#listen its connected to the fact she worked at a coffee shop

[loverontheleft]

Strip Poker (revised)

Original request: ooo I have a suggestion. So what if b is hosting like a poker night or some sort of game night with his guy friends and the reader is bored watching so she pulls up a chair beside him and then starts messing with him under the table and gives him a hand job? Haha sorry if that’s stupid - O DAMN BUT WHAT IF poker turns into (totally consensual, all parties very much cool with it) strip poker which just makes b hot because he knows he’s the only one who actually gets to touch you, his friends might get to look at you, might even fantasize about you, but it’s his bed you’re in, and goddamn if he doesn’t wanna flaunt that fact occasionally

Brendon x reader.

Warnings: language, dirty talk, arguably public sex, voyeurism, sex.

Word count: 3.8k➡️8.6k

-||-

You’ve had a very long day shopping with your sister and her children at the mall, and while you love them, they’ve exhausted you. All you want now is to curl up in Brendon’s arms. He’s wonderful at taking your stress away just with his presence, plus you love his hands on your body. The way he strokes your hair, caresses your waist and holds you close, or just spoons you on your couch makes any tension melt away.

You can picture your evening now: the two of you intertwined on the couch, Sinatra playing in the background, a bottle of wine and whatever he’s made for dinner on the coffee table, and the way his kisses turn more urgent and his whispers more suggestive before he takes you to bed. You can practically feel his soft tongue working between your thighs and his hands all over you; Brendon gets you so hot and desperate for him, but he always delivers.

“Brendon, love, you home?” You enter your home from the garage, drop your purse on the kitchen island, and listen, head cocked to the side. Your gaze shifts; through the kitchen window, you can see that his car is in the circular driveway behind the house, along with several cars belonging to his friends. You can hear a low rumble of chatter from downstairs now, and you remember: Brendon’s hosting a game night in the lounge of your newly remodeled basement.

It’s a huge space; what used to be one massive unfinished area has been renovated into multiple rooms. The stairwell opens into the lounge and game room, which in turn connects to the hallway with its multiple doors: there’s the theater with a fully stocked wet bar and walk-in wine fridge, three guest suites, a soundproofed recording studio and office space, and, behind a double-locked door in the studio, is the only room that isn’t quite done yet—what Brendon playfully calls your sex dungeon.

It’s a dark, luxurious space, and while you both agree you didn’t really need a separate area designated for sex—because you regularly fuck all over the house—it’s still nice to have an ultra-private retreat that’s dedicated to each other’s pleasure. With the walk-in closet’s shelves for toys and accessories installed yesterday, you can finally start unpacking the dozens of packages strewn across the floor and actually organize the space. Brendon insisted on stocking the room with duplicates of all your favorite things, mostly because he didn’t want either of you to be searching for something, only to realize it was two floors away in your bedroom. Nothing, he’d said, would kill the mood more than pausing to walk up, and then back down, two flights of stairs.

The only thing that’s left to add is the furniture; the rope rigging is arriving in the next few days, and the bondage-friendly headboard and frame should be here within a week. Meanwhile, the California king mattress and box spring are on the floor, waiting more patiently than you. You’ve told him that he needs to be stretched and hydrated whenever the bed is officially assembled, because you will be dragging him to it and keeping him there for many orgasms. You’ve been fantasizing about being cuffed to the headboard while Brendon works you over with a paddle, and you know he’s game to act out any scenario you suggest once the bed is ready.

“B,” you call as you head down the stairs, beaming when you find your husband, Spencer, Zack, Jake, and Dallon gathered around the card table in the lounge. Brendon has a deck of cards in hand, and there’s several empty beer bottles on the table.

Brendon’s eyes light up when he sees you. “Hi, sweetness! You’re home!” He beckons you over, but quickly abandons the cards to meet you halfway as you cross the room. He scoops you up as you fling your arms around his neck; his hands curve under your thighs, and he kisses you longingly. You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squealing a little when he moves to settle back in his chair with you in his lap.

“I’ve got you, my love. Don’t worry. So happy my sweet girl’s home,” he murmurs against your lips. You love when he holds you and uses his petnames for you around others; it’s just one of the ways he makes you feel special and brings a little intimacy to everything he does.

Once he’s seated comfortably with you straddling him, he kisses you deeply, his hands framing your face and tongue teasing yours, and you both ignore the reactions of his friends. They’re used to how affectionate you two are, and you’re used to their over-the-top responses. They always tease that you two are shameless, while Brendon always retorts that you’ve got no reason to be ashamed.

When he pulls away now, he strokes a thumb over your cheek tenderly while his eyes meet yours. “Damn, you are so beautiful, sweetheart. You had a good day? It’s late—did you all get lunch out? I’ll make dinner later if you’re not too hungry now. Or we can order in. Whatever you’re feeling. How’s your sister? The kids?”

You fill him in on your day, and he leans over to kiss you again, just as intently. “Sorry to pepper you with all the questions. I missed you today, babydoll. Now that this tour has been announced, I feel like I’ve got to take advantage of every moment I’ve got with you. Love you so much.”

You murmur it back to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all breaking in the game table.” You turn to eye the pile of chips. “Poker?”

“We just now started another game. You want me to deal you in?”

“No, that’s okay; thank you though.” You snuggle in closer. You’d wanted alone time with him, but he’s great at making you feel special even in a crowded room, and you get along well with the guys. It’s a change from your anticipated evening, but not a bad one. And after all, they’ll go home eventually, so you can use this time now to work Brendon into a horny mess—you know he won’t mind. “I’ll just watch for now. You need another beer?” You twist in his lap to glance around the table. “Anyone need one?” The guys look at Brendon, and Brendon shrugs.

“If you’re buying.” He grins and swats your ass when you hop off of his lap, making you shriek with delight as you head for the small kitchen in the corner of the lounge.

“My love, I’ll always ‘buy’ for you.” You crack open the fridge, grab five bottles and return to place them squarely in the center of the table for everyone to grab. “As long as we keep the fridge stocked. But the next round will require a trip to the full bar in the theater, because this fridge is now empty. We should really think about putting a full bar in here too.”

Brendon murmurs that he’ll get the next round and talk to the contractor tomorrow, and then he pulls you down into his lap again, one arm draped over your waist with his other hand holding the cold bottle. You settle back against him happily as he kisses your cheek, but then realize you might be blocking his view. “Will you be able to play with me on top of you? I can pull up a chair,” you offer, and Brendon reluctantly nods.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he sighs. “As much as I love having you on top of me and in my lap, playing will require my full focus. I fear having you on me will draw my attention elsewhere, making me crave a different game—one for just me and my pretty girl.” He nuzzles your neck with this comment while his fingers stroke your waist.

Zack groans under his breath at the innuendo, and you grin, standing to grab another chair and dragging it to Brendon’s side. You might not need to do too much work to get him where you want him; his mind seems to be headed there already. “Oh, we’ll play later, don’t you worry. I’ll try not to be too distracting for now though,” you promise, leaning your head on his shoulder and resting your hand on his thigh.

-||-

“Shit,” Brendon groans, and Spencer chuckles, leaning forward to drag the pile of chips towards him. “I really thought that was a good hand.”

“It was a good hand,” Spencer concedes. “Mine was just better.”

“Fair enough.”

You rub your husband’s upper thigh soothingly. Zack and Dallon both folded in the second round, while Jake and Brendon both pressed onward enthusiastically, only to fall short of Spencer’s straight flush.

“Sweet baby, that feels so good,” Brendon murmurs against your hair as he turns to kiss the top of your head. You smile, slipping your hand up higher, pinky pressing along his zipper. You know he can feel it, because he inhales sharply, coughing to cover it up.

“Just doing my wifely duty to cheer you up,” you reply softly, eyes closed as you move closer and adjust your hand to cup him fully. He knows how much you like to tease, and you know how much he likes you to tease him. “Is it working?”

“Oh baby, you know it is. Alright, Dallon,” he sighs. “Deal.”

-||-

“Read it and weep, boys; read it and weep,” Brendon declares, showing his hand, and the others swear as they realize he’s got a royal flush. “You,” he declares, pulling you in for a long kiss, “are my good luck charm.”

You grin against his mouth. “So now would be a bad time to ask to be dealt in?”

He groans, and you laugh, speaking quickly to reassure him. “I’m just kidding; I’m happy to stay arm candy and your good luck charm.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “You’re so much more than just arm candy or a lucky charm. And you’re more than welcome to play. Double our odds of winning.” You nod, standing to retrieve another round of beers for the table, and you’re considering a glass of wine for yourself.

“Wait,” Brendon protests, standing after you and catching your hand. Your fingers now interlocked, he pulls you close. “I said I’d get the next round.” He seems to read your mind, because he adds, “and I’ll get you a glass of wine, doll. That case of the 2011 Malbec you like so much was delivered earlier. But feel free to walk with me; I love your company, and I’ll need help carrying everything.”

You give him a quizzical look, because you have no idea what wine he’s talking about. Instead of giving any clarification though, Brendon just wraps an arm around your waist as he walks you out of view of the table and down the hall.

In the back of the darkened theater, he grabs you by the hips, lifts you easily up onto the bar counter, presses a quick kiss to your lips, and then whirls around to grab more beer from the fridge. “Don’t move, babydoll. I’ll be right back. Let me just get them their beers first, so they don’t come looking and interrupt us.”

“Interrupt us?”

Instead of replying, Brendon winks at you and disappears back to the lounge where the guys are waiting. When he returns moments later, he moves with purpose towards you and captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

“Thank god this is what you meant,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding against his growing erection. “Need you, B. Missed you so much today. I fucking need my man. You promise they won’t interrupt?”

His hands are in your hair, his tongue is exploring your mouth, and he groans your name when you scratch at his back longingly, begging for his fingers. “They won’t interrupt if we don’t take too long, so we don’t have much time,” Brendon murmurs, sliding a hand down the front of your leggings. “My best girl, always so damn wet for me.”

“Always,” you whimper, rubbing against his fingers desperately. “God, I’ve needed this so badly. Want to come all over your hand, fuck!”

Brendon nods and curls his fingers, smiling into the kiss when you whine. “That’s it, baby. All over my hand. Grind on your husband’s fingers; let me feel your pussy when you come for me. You gonna come on my fingers, all hot and wet? Wish I could lick and suck your clit, get you coming on my face and tongue, but—shit, you like that? Can feel how wet that made you. Yeah, you love the dirty talk, don’t you? Be my dirty girl and come on my fingers; let me lick them clean. Want to taste my girl.”

He hisses in a blend of pleasure and pain; you’ve dragged your nails down his back and are biting at his lower lip as you come. You’d apologize, but you know he loves the pain. Your thighs are tense around his hand, and you’re trembling from the way Brendon’s got his fingers still curled and flexing. When you finally go limp and are left clinging to him, Brendon slips his hand from your panties and slides two fingers into his mouth. He winks at you playfully as he shows you his tongue twisting around them, and you groan, scratching at his chest.

“That’s not fair,” you whine, making him laugh. “Don’t tease. My underwear is already soaked.”

Brendon raises one eyebrow, but chooses to say nothing as he finishes sucking his fingers clean. Instead, he helps you slide off the bar and holds you close for a long moment. You relish his warmth and the firm pressure of his body against yours; you’re already fantasizing about getting him alone after the guys leave.

He seems to share your thoughts, pressing his lips to your temple and promising you can have him soon. His hips rock forward a little, letting you feel how hard he is for you. “Soon,” he repeats. With that, he adjusts his erection in an attempt to hide it a bit better, ducks into the walk-in wine cellar, grabs a bottle to pour you a large glass of wine, and leads you back to the lounge.

-||-

You eye the pair of cards you’ve been dealt and consider, glancing at the three community cards. “Call,” you finally declare, nodding at Brendon, and he looks at you with interest as your other hand slips over the bulge in his jeans. He pushes more chips into the center for you, and Jake raises his eyebrows.

“Why are you handling all the chips, Brendon? It’s your wife’s bet.”

Brendon grins, saying nothing; his hips rock ever so slightly when you squeeze. “Y’all are probably being gross. We should do a hand check,” Jake muses and calls as well. You wonder if he has any idea of how right he is. They can all almost certainly see your arm disappearing under the table at an angle, clearly reaching toward Brendon’s lap. One thing you don’t miss about touring is the spontaneous ‘hand checks’ the band implements for you two; the ones that inevitably mean Brendon slipping his fingers from you or you releasing his cock during movie nights and any other group activities on the bus where you can get cuddled up together under a blanket. Fortunately, Jake seems to be kidding for now.

Zack calls too before standing to go to the bathroom, and you know now is your chance. Once the toilet flushes, you quickly unzip Brendon’s jeans under cover of the sound. He glances over at you, and you smile innocently, wrapping your hand around his length through his boxers. Brendon’s hips raise ever so slightly; you can tell he’s enjoying your touch.

Spencer deals the final community card, making you laugh merrily. “That’s a little scary,” Dallon comments, and you give him a wide grin. “That’s not helping. Okay; two pairs,” he states, sounding only somewhat confident.

Jake tips his cards. “Three of a kind.”

Zack laughs grimly. “Three of a kind.”

Brendon looks at you, and you look back; your fingers tighten a little, and you raise an eyebrow. He caves. “Flush.”

You smirk, stroking a hand over his cock to ease the blow. “Four of a kind, gentlemen.”

-||-

At Brendon’s nod, Zack has made a trip to the bar and returned with a large bottle of Jack Daniels and a single can of Coke. That round of strong drinks, plus your glass of wine and the men’s multiple beers, means you’re all more than a little tipsy. Brendon is leaning back in his seat; you’ve worked your hand into his boxers and are stroking a little faster. It’s probably the liquor’s influence, but you’re not worried about the rest of them seeing anything. Honestly, they’ve all been on tour with Brendon, which means, even with their hand checks, they’ve seen much dirtier behavior from you two than a handjob under a table.

Jake and Dallon once found the two of you contorted around each other in an empty storage closet, Brendon’s hand down your leggings as he loudly encouraged you to come on his fingers.

You’re positive they also witnessed The Germany Incident, in which Brendon had been laying naked on a green room couch with you, also naked, reclining against his chest in his arms and on his cock. He’d been fucking you with deep, urgent thrusts; you had your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder while he used one hand to tease your breasts and had the other stroking over your clit while he worked his cock into your wet cunt from beneath you.

You can still hear his voice, telling you to use your man, use his cock, come all over it, all over him, just let go, really soak him and the couch. He’d pinched a nipple then with wet fingers, making you squeal and cling to his arms. It only became an ‘Incident’ with a capital ‘I’ because you’d come hard and promptly lost consciousness—you later blamed the intensity of the orgasm, but also sleep deprivation from travel, plus some mild dehydration.

At the time though, Brendon had naturally freaked out when you went limp on top of him after shrieking his name, and—according to Brendon’s recollection of the Incident—Jake and Dallon had been there almost immediately to help get water, ice packs, and whatever else Brendon could think of—before he’d even had a chance to call for help.

When you’d regained consciousness, you were laid out on the couch, still naked but covered in a fleece blanket from the merch table with an ice pack wrapped in a t-shirt on your forehead. Brendon had tugged on sweatpants and was seated on the floor by your head stroking your hair, and Jake and Dallon hovered in the background. For the rest of the tour, neither could look at you without flushing deep red.

In hindsight, Brendon admitted, they’d probably been watching from the cracked doorway that had a direct line of sight to the couch. This had made you laugh; you’d kissed him hard and agreed that seeing you sprawled on top of him, legs spread wide while he fucked you desperately, noisily from underneath almost certainly had something to do with their awkward behavior.

As for Spencer, he'd walked in on Brendon eating you out in a dressing room post-show. You’d dragged your husband back there, begging for his tongue, and he’d dropped to his knees without hesitation. Leaning against the wall and hitching your dress up, you rolled your hips forward; Brendon had taken the invitation readily. The tip of his tongue on your clit with two fingers thrusting and spreading and curling in you had driven you wild.

You hadn’t seen him in six weeks at that point, and you were climbing the walls with desire. He’d been on edge too: you heard the zipper of his pants followed by the urgent sound of his hand stroking over his cock. Your eyes were closed in bliss, one hand cradling his head as he worked his tongue over you, and the other reaching down to spread yourself for him with two fingers.

Your eyes were still squeezed shut as you came with a sharp cry, your hips bucking and back arched off the wall; Brendon, his face still buried in your pussy and tongue moving frantically, let out a desperate groan that told you he’d just come all over his hand. At that exact moment, you heard the door open, followed by a low swear and the door slamming shut again. The only way you and Brendon knew it’d been Spencer was the set of drumsticks on the floor.

You can’t even pick the filthiest moment Zack has witnessed in your relationship. He’s found you both in various and complete states of undress in bus bunks, hotel rooms, showers, dressing rooms, elevators, cars, and, on one memorable occasion, an inflated lifeboat on a friend’s yacht.

Brendon had been on top of you, his swimsuit tugged down in the front just enough to get his cock out, and he’d pulled your bikini bottoms to the side so he could fill you. You can still hear the urgent squeak of the rubber and Brendon panting over you, telling you how badly he needed to feel you come for him. His low groan in your ear after you came and he finally spilled into you is still one of your favorite sounds. You didn’t love hearing Zack swear when he came around the corner and then mutter, “you fucking perverts,” but Brendon laughing in that exhausted, post-orgasm way of his and rolling off of you to bury his face in your neck is always fantastic, no matter the circumstances.

Now though, here in your basement, they all might get a live and up-close viewing of Brendon coming all over your hand. It’s not ideal, but you have no intention of stopping, of leaving your husband throbbing and in need of release. Brendon bites his lip, and you’re not sure if he’s close or if he’s just reacting to the newest community card. His hips are twitching though, and he’s giving you a long look, as if to ask, ‘how?,’ and also, just as important, ‘where?’

These are things you hadn’t considered when you started this little tease. You really can’t make him come like this; he’s wearing a dark shirt, and the way he’s slightly sunken down in his chair means he’d definitely come all over his chest. You’re pretty sure it has to be in your mouth. Not that you mind—you love swallowing for him. It’s just the logistics of your current situation.

You briefly consider dropping your phone and crawling under the table to let him finish in your mouth, but there’s a few problems with that. It would probably take too long, Brendon probably wouldn’t be able to keep silent, he definitely wouldn’t be able to maintain a neutral face, and it would just generally arouse his friends’ suspicions. Although, and you glance around the table, you can get rid of them temporarily by appealing to their stomachs.

“Jake, I got that French onion dip you really liked,” you say, trying to control your voice. “You and Dallon should head upstairs and get it. I’m too tipsy to try the stairs.” They nod and stand, and you smile to yourself.

“Zack,” Brendon mumbles, his eyes locked on yours, “will you show Spencer the list of new tour locations? They’ve added a few since we last talked. The complete schedule is in my office.” Zack gives him a confused look but nods, and he and Spencer head down the hallway to Brendon’s office and studio.

As their footsteps fade, you slip out of your chair and under the table. Brendon shoves his jeans and boxers down his thighs, groaning and coming the moment your mouth closes over him. “Jesus fuck, that’s it; swallow for me, babydoll,” he grunts, both hands in your hair as you suck greedily; your head is bobbing as you take him deeper and swallow happily. “This is exactly what I needed; goddamn, my gorgeous wife sucking my cock—making me come, yes, that’s it, swallow, honey—fuck, you make me come so hard; that’s all for you—my cock is all for you, it’s all fucking yours. God, you’d better believe I’m gonna eat your pussy later til you’re screaming my name; I need to get your sweet cunt all over my face before I fuck you the way you deserve.”

You can feel his hips tense as he finishes—he’s fighting the urge to thrust in between your lips. Normally you’d gladly let him fuck your mouth since that’s a good way for him to get hard again, but you both know you just don’t have the time. The guys could be back any moment.

Instead, Brendon’s petting your hair and breathing hard; you’re still between his legs, tongue softly licking him clean and your hand stroking his length gently when you hear footsteps.

“Shit,” you hiss, pulling off of him. Zack and Spencer come back just as Dallon and Jake come downstairs with bowls of chips and dip. You crawl out from under the table while Brendon tries to catch his breath. His friends stare between you down on your knees and Brendon, with his head tipped back, his eyes closed, face flushed, and his lips slightly parted. In your mind, it’s pretty obvious what’s just happened, but your pride requires an attempt at a coverup. “I dropped my phone,” you offer casually, wiping at your lower lip with your thumb.

“It’s on the table,” Zack points out dryly, and you shrug.

“Whoops. I’m drunker than I thought. Could’ve sworn I dropped it.”

“Where were we?” Brendon asks the question loudly to distract the group, and they settle back in their chairs, picking up their cards. “Spencer, I think it’s your turn to act on this round.”

He folds, and Zack deals the last card. It’s your turn; you fold. Brendon and Jake eye each other. Brendon ultimately folds too, and Jake turns his attention to Zack, who tips his hand. Three of a kind. Jake sighs and shoves the pile of poker chips to Zack before downing the rest of his drink. You stand and grab the bottle of whiskey, refilling the drinks in front of each of you.

-||-

“Dammit,” You swear as Brendon flips the fourth card. “Shouldn’t have folded.”

Brendon grins and eyes you. “You know,” he drawls, “you can get back in. For a price.” You arch an eyebrow, and he laughs. “Piece of clothing…or a truth. No dares when we’re this tipsy.”

Jake leans forward, rubbing his hands. “Strip poker; excellent.”

Zack snorts, while Dallon sits back in his chair and says nothing, but his eyes are bright. Spencer nudges Jake hard and looks between you and Brendon, who shakes his head a little, clearly amused by the silent conversation happening between the guys.

“I’m not opposed,” Spencer finally says. “I just don’t want…anyone to feel uncomfortable.” He’s clearly offering this to you; Dallon and Zack agree. You shrug, telling Brendon he plays dirty while tugging your hair tie out and freeing your ponytail.

He leans over and ruffles your hair affectionately. “You love when we get dirty together, doll. The hair tie will work to get back in for this round, but just know that if you lose…you owe another piece.” He looks at the rest of the group. “Are we doing all losers or just the lowest hand?”

You scoff. “All losers.”

Zack laughs. “You’re feeling confident, aren’t you?” You nod smugly as Brendon flips the fifth card. Spencer doesn’t react, Jake calls, you call, and Dallon and Zack both check. Brendon studies his hand, your face, and the community cards before calling as well.

Dallon and Zack both have two pairs, while Spencer sits comfortably with his three of a kind. Jake reveals his flush and you grin, showing off your full house. Brendon shakes his head with a smile. “Sorry, sweetness.”

He drops his cards to show his four of a kind. “You can take the truth if you want,” he offers casually, and you glance at him.

“Do you want me to take the truth?” You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but Brendon appears to consider the question as he takes a long sip of his drink.

“If you’re comfortable stripping, then I’m comfortable with you stripping.” He looks at you meaningfully as he sets the glass down, and you nod. You knew he’d say that. What’s left unspoken is that he knows his friends won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you; you both know that the possessive part of him loves when others can’t stop staring at you.

You both also know it’s a little backward, but you love knowing that they’ll look at you, think about you, and even want you —yet, ultimately, everyone at this table understands he’s the only one you’ll take to bed; he’s the only one you’ll ever want. You pull your cardigan off, letting it hit the floor.

The other guys are more modest and each sacrifice a sock, and you roll your eyes. “You’re all lame.”

Brendon laughs, leaning back in his seat. “They’re just starting slow because they know it’s gonna get a whole lot worse for them. Like you with that hair tie.” He throws a glance at you. “But someone feels confident—going right for the cardigan, hmmm?”

You nod, accepting the two cards you’re dealt and wait patiently.

-||-

“Take it off, baby!” You giggle, helping Brendon get his shirt off before standing and wriggling out of your tank top to reveal your blue lace push-up bra. If the guys notice Brendon’s jeans are still unzipped and half-open from your interlude under the table, they don’t comment on it.

“I don’t even mind losing, because you’re getting naked with me,” you say, reaching out to stroke his bare chest while he traces a finger over your bra strap.

“Gross,” Zack deadpans, crossing his arms. He’s won this round, while Jake has lost his other sock at this point, Spencer too, and the rest of you are shirtless. Brendon is gazing at you steadily over the edge of his drink, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Fortunately, you don’t have to wait long.

He sets his drink down and turns to Zack. “You’re just jealous,” Brendon tells him with a smile, and Zack grins, shaking his head. “You don’t have to admit it; I already know. Everything my wife brings to the table and she looks like this? Fuck, just look at my girl. We don’t mind you guys looking. How could you resist? She’s fucking gorgeous.”

You stretch and preen under Brendon’s praise, and he watches you hungrily. “Yeah,” you murmur, “you can look all you want—just remember I’m all his.”

Brendon finishes your sentence. “And more importantly, I’m all hers, which makes me the luckiest guy at this table.”

He beckons you into his lap, cupping your face as you straddle him. “I can’t even say I lost this last round when you’re on me like this,” he murmurs while he draws you in for a deep kiss. You return the kiss eagerly, moaning into his mouth when his fingers start caressing your breasts. “Can’t ever lose when I’ve got my girl half-undressed and on top of me, rubbing against my—shit, guys, go get more beer. I need a minute with my wife.”

“Only one minute?” Dallon teases in a slightly strained voice, but Brendon is already kissing you again, one hand working its way into your bra and the other grabbing at your ass to keep you moving on top of him.

“Go away,” you moan, grinding down against Brendon urgently while flinging a hand at Dallon and the rest of them. “Go get beer or something, and then count to three hundred.”

“You heard the lady,” Brendon mumbles, rocking his hips up to press his cock into you. “My wife needs five minutes with me.”

You hear their chairs push back, and you rise up high onto your knees above Brendon’s lap once they’re gone.

“You’ve got me alone for the next five minutes. Now what?”

“Now I make my girl come.”

Brendon slides a hand down the front of your leggings. “Fuck, your panties match this bra, don’t they? Can feel the soft lace; wanna get you out of them with my teeth and then lick your clit until you come on my tongue.”

“We have like four minutes left,” you murmur, rocking back and forth on his hand urgently. “You know I want you to eat me out, but we’re running out of time.”

“Grind on my cock then, babydoll; come on your man, get off from rubbing your wet pussy all over me. God, but what I wouldn’t do to get my cock in your perfect cunt right now and feel you lose control.”

He slips his fingers from you; you’re moaning loudly into the embrace, tugging at his hair, and pressing down onto his cock throbbing under you. It feels so good, but you both know that in order to come the way you both want to come, you need to really ride him. “Need you in me,” you groan, and Brendon nods desperately, telling you to do it, take whatever you need, he’s yours. His jeans are still open from earlier; it’s easy to grasp his cock and pull him free. You consider just shoving your leggings down slightly, but you know you won’t be able to straddle him as long as you’re dressed. Instead, you slide your leggings and underwear off fully.

Finally, you spread your legs over him again and, grabbing his cock to press it against your pussy, you sink down onto him. You gasp, tossing your head back as you take him inside you, whining as you settle in his lap. You can feel every inch of his cock, and it’s creating the perfect amount of pressure. Moving urgently, desperately, you grip his shoulders. “Bren, tell me—”

“Fuck yes; you’re so damn hot. That’s it, ride my cock, you’re my best, dirtiest—”

He’s cut off by Dallon yelling from down the hall that you have two minutes left.

You’re both breathing hard. “Running out of time,” Brendon groans. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.” Order given, Brendon buries his face in your cleavage, licking and suckling at the exposed skin. You know you both need more, so you abandon his shoulders to shove your bra cups down. Your nipples now exposed, you gasp happily when he closes his mouth over one and starts rolling it with his tongue.

“I’m gonna fucking come,” you whine, grinding down against the base of his cock while he thrusts up into you. “Shit I’m close; right there, give it to me just like—give me your cock, yes, Brendon yes! Fuck me, oh shit, oh fuck I’m—Bren, now!”

He sucks hard at your nipple, and you shriek, tugging his hair and riding out your climax.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, still moving on him as you come back to full awareness. “God, you’re so hard—you gonna come in me, B?”

“Could,” Brendon grunts, gripping your ass with both hands. “Just need—fuck, a little bit more t—”

“Time’s up,” Zack yells, and you both groan. Brendon rests his forehead against yours and lifts you off of his cock. You make a small sound of protest, but you know it’s no use. Brendon gives you a longing look, and you know he’s just as disappointed as you are. You love when your husband makes you come, but you’d always rather come together. “Fix your clothes, you freaks,” Zack adds. “We’re coming back.”

Exhausted, you guide your bra back into place, slide out of Brendon’s lap, and tug your underwear and leggings on. Before you can get both up over your hips, Brendon slips a hand down between your thighs and moans low in the back of his throat. He loves feeling you after you’ve come for him, loves getting you sprawled out in bed so he can explore your body and see all the different reactions he can coax from you post-orgasm. You both know Zack means it though, and you don’t have the time.

Brendon pulls his hand back, you get your clothes back on, and you curl into his side, nuzzling his bare shoulder. He drapes an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “To be continued, sweet baby,” Brendon promises in a low voice before sucking his fingers clean.

The guys walk back in, and Brendon gives them a not-entirely-playfully dirty look. “You guys are the worst. Not even a little grace period?”

They pile back into their chairs, and Dallon shrugs. “She came, didn’t she? What else was there to do?”

You roll your eyes and lean on Brendon’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his cock slowly. You love the way he throbs at your touch. “She could’ve gotten her husband off too,” you tell Dallon, who mimes gagging. “He was close, and you all cock-blocked him. But I’ll take care of my man later. Now,” and you direct this at Spencer, “it’s your turn to deal.”

-||-

You glance at the two cards on the table and wait. You don’t really want to fold, but you don’t have a good feeling. Sure enough, you end up with one pair; you sigh, going for the waistband of your leggings. Brendon’s eyes flit between your face and the delta of your thighs, and it dawns on you.

You can feel how wet your lace panties are, which means the guys would probably see how wet you are through them. That’s a little more than you want them to get right now. You make the decision. “I think I’ll opt to answer a question. Does Spencer get to ask it because he won this round?”

Spencer glances around the table, unsure of what to ask. “I yield the floor,” he jokes, and Dallon leans forward to claim the question.

“What were you really doing under the table when we came back downstairs with the snacks? We know you didn’t drop your phone.”

You exchange looks with Brendon, who just grins and shrugs a little. You take it as permission. “Sucking my husband’s cock,” you say casually, and Jake chokes on his drink. Brendon starts laughing, and Dallon points out that Brendon didn’t actually need to come during your five-minute interlude earlier, since you’d already gotten him off.

“I knew it,” Zack says triumphantly, prompting questioning looks from both you and Brendon. “I mean, I suspected. I didn’t know for sure, obviously. Although you did crawl out from under the table, wiping your mouth with that smug smile.”

Brendon keeps laughing and pulls you closer. “I need another, stronger drink,” you tell him, and he nods decisively. “Shots. Tequila, probably,” you add, and he grins, gesturing for everyone to follow him to the bar.

Once in the theater, he situates himself behind the bar, grabbing a selection of shot glasses, a bottle of tequila, and pouring across the glasses.

“Come and get ‘em,” he announces, and everyone reaches for one. The tequila leaves a warm trail down your throat, and you each set your glass down in front of Brendon. “Another?”

When you all nod, he fills them and his own again. You reach for yours, and he shakes his head. “No ma’am,” he says with a teasing finger wag. There’s a longing look in his eyes, and you think you know where his head is at. “You have to earn your second one. Hop up.”

You know exactly what he wants, and you love it. Doing body shots off of each other reminds you of being on tour with him in the early days: sneaking around, fucking in dressing rooms, and generally partying without any care for the consequences. Just as in love, just as wild about each other, but even more uninhibited and reckless in the best ways.

You accept his hand and lay yourself flat out on the bar, smiling up at him. His eyes roam over your body. “Jesus,” he sighs, taking you in with hungry eyes. “You’re so damn pretty, doll. I’m so fucking lucky to be yours.” With that, he reaches for your waist, and you know what’s coming next. If he’s okay with it, you are too. You both like showing off.

Brendon guides your leggings down, revealing your very wet underwear. You glance around the room in amusement. It’s just like being on tour: Zack and Spencer are taking another shot and studying the ceiling, clearly trying not to notice the way your leggings hit the floor, while Jake and Dallon are both openly watching Brendon’s fingers tease your skin.

“Don’t move,” Brendon warns you now, moving the waistband of your underwear down just a little to lick the newly exposed skin between your hip bones.

“Fuck, I love your mouth,” you whisper, squirming. Brendon winks, grabs the salt shaker, and sprinkles the coarse salt onto you, nodding decisively when it sticks to the wet path he’s left with his tongue. You reach down to your side for a lime wedge, placing it between your teeth.

“Don’t shiver and make a mess.” He maintains eye contact with you as he pours the shot onto your stomach.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and his tongue scoops up the salt, his lips suck up the tequila, and his teeth snap at the lime, sucking hard to tug it out of your mouth. Lime sucked and discarded, Brendon’s lips are back on yours, and he’s kissing you desperately. The combined taste of residual tequila and Brendon’s mouth has your head spinning.

“You earned your second shot,” he murmurs, but you’re not interested in just taking the shot.

“Let me take it off you,” you beg, sliding your legs to the side and finding your footing. Brendon grins, tucking your full shot glass into the waistband of his jeans while leaning against the bar.

“Should’ve known my baby would’ve wanted to get her mouth on me.”

“Damn right.” You lick greedily at his collarbone, pour the salt, and pop the lime wedge in his mouth. “You ready?” You hope he is, because you’re ready to make a scene. The two of you perfected the upright body shot during his Vices tour, and even though it’s been a few years, you know you’ve still got it. Even Zack and Spencer are watching you closely now.

Brendon nods, and you run your tongue back over his collarbone before moving down his body, lips closing over the shot glass and pulling it out of his pants, knocking your head back sharply to take the shot. You drop to your knees in front of him and, finally using your hands, set the glass aside. For the last step, you grab his waistband to bring him to his knees too, so you can seize the lime from his mouth.

“Well shit,” Jake breathes, and Brendon laughs, tugging you close and kissing you deeply. He rocks back off his knees and sits, his fingers running through your hair, and you need him.

“More,” you insist, crawling into his lap, rubbing against him. His hard cock is pressing into you through his jeans, and grinding on him in just your underwear is creating amazing friction. “Get your pants off entirely, B. Let me ride you again, get you coming in my hot, wet cu—”

“Audience,” Spencer interrupts, and you groan, pulling your mouth back.

Brendon is breathing hard, eyes dark and locked on you. “I’m gonna kick our audience out so I can fuck you,” he tells you, ignoring the fact that your audience is present and listening. “Poker night is over; I’ll see you guys later,” he mumbles in their direction without breaking his gaze with you, and they head for the stairs.

“Make good choices,” Zack calls, and Brendon flips him off without looking as he kisses you again.

“Once they’re out of here, you’re mine,” he tells you, and you rock your hips against his.

“I’m always yours,” you remind him and he nods, grasping your hair and tilting your head back gently so he can kiss your neck. “Bren, your mouth feels so good, need you to bite my neck while you fill my cunt; give me all your cum,” you moan, admittedly louder than you intended, and Dallon yells back that they’re still in the house. “Whoops,” you giggle, and Brendon grabs your ass, nipping at your skin.

“Bad girl,” he teases in a low voice. “Letting our friends hear you.” Your eyes flutter closed as his lips move over your neck and down to the swell of your breasts in the push-up lace. “They were so damn turned on by you,” he whispers, running a hand up your side to pinch one of your nipples lightly. “Blowing me under the table, sending them away so you could get off on my cock, letting me lick you all over in front of them, watching you drop to your knees for me…fuck babydoll, they’ll never admit it, but they are so hot for you. Their wives and girlfriends are in for such a good fuck when they get home.”

“God, Brendon…you like your friends getting all horny from me?” You’re murmuring this in his ear as you snake a hand down the front of his boxers. He groans, and you grasp his cock, jerking him off slowly with one hand while the other shoves at his jeans. “You like that, B?”

“Yeah, fucking love it. Love letting them see how goddamn sexy you are, letting them see exactly why I’m so fucking wild about you. Letting them see how I’m wrapped around your finger, completely yours—you’re the only one who gets me, and I’m the only one who gets you.” He moves to your mouth and lets his tongue explore before pulling back. “I don’t quite remember when, except that you were in the bathroom— but Jake leaned over and asked how good of a girl you really are.”

You arch an eyebrow in question, and Brendon smirks. “I told them you let me fuck you any and every day, in any and every way I want, and you don’t just let me; you positively beg for it. You say my name so sweetly when you come and then you plead with me to come in you.” While the possessive part of him loves others getting turned on by you, the possessive part of you loves when he brags about your sex life.

His fingers slip down between your bodies, and he groans when he feels how wet you still are. “And you get so damn wet for me; you really want me to fuck you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper urgently, bucking against his fingers. “Give it to me, Brendon. Fingers, tongue, cock. Anything, just give it to me.” He brushes a hand over the side of your face.

“And you beg so nicely too,” he comments, rocking up on his knees a little bit to shove his jeans down further, arm tightening around you so you won’t slip backwards. “Slide your panties to the side, honey, and ride my cock, bounce on it like we love.” You obey, body quaking when he’s fully in you. “That’s my best girl,” he groans quietly, unsnapping your bra as you work yourself along his length. “Love watching your tits move while you take my cock.”

“Brendon, you feel so good,” you whimper, and he bites your earlobe. You love being on top, because you can control the exact pace and angle; you can make sure his cock presses right where you want and guarantee you’ll come hard. Plus, the look on his face is always incredible—you love knowing he’s feeling that good just from having you on him. However, sometimes you really want him to take charge and take you.

“Want you to fuck me, B.” He nods, understanding. He curves over you with a hand pressed to the small of your back so you’re lowered gently to the carpet and he’s above you. Your hips are still twitching against his, and he kisses you hard.

“Let me take care of you.” He grabs one of your thighs and lifts it over his hip so he can fill you at a sharper angle. His hair has fallen into his eyes and he flips it out of the way, fucking you quickly with short, rough strokes. “You feel fucking incredible,” Brendon whispers, closing his eyes for a moment, relishing the way you meet his thrusts.

You’re breathing hard, panting, and your fingers are digging into his shoulders. “Incredible,” you echo, desperate for more. “Make me come,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Rub my clit and make me come.”

“Not yet,” he groans, taking both of your hands and pushing them over your head. He’s leaning over you, forehead to forehead, and you arch to kiss him. It’s sloppy and dirty, your tongues teasing and moving together, but neither of you are complaining. “You know,” he pauses to grunt sharply when you contract around him, “fuck, your sweet cunt—you know I like to come together. But I’m so close, babydoll; give me a few more moments, and I’ll come for you.”

“Brendon, I want you to come in me.” The words are plain, and you’ve said them before because you always get the same result. He gasps, his rhythm faltering. “Come in me, just let go and come inside your wife.”

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, thumb rubbing your clit gently until you grab his hand and apply more pressure. “Oh god, baby, I’m gonna—”

“Fuck Brendon, I—”

“Fuck, fuck, fu—gonna take it all?”

“Yes, fuck yeah, I need it, gimme that hot cum, oh my god, oh— fuck!”

“You want me to give your pussy all my cum? You want it filling your cunt, a hot, slick reminder of who fucks you best?”

“Oh fu—you fuck me best; oh shit, only ever you—god, Bren, fuck my pussy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yes, give it to me, B, fuck! Right th—oh—!”

“Coming,” Brendon finally gasps in your ear, and you let yourself go with a sharp cry as he comes, fast and hot. The heat spreads through you, and you moan, clutching his back and clenching around him. Your entire body is quivering, and his hips move in little spasms as your pussy milks his climax from him.

“I can’t—Jesus, Brendon. I can’t stop— you’re the only one who—makes me come like—” you kiss him, and he lashes his thumb over your clit. “Again; oh God, oh Brendon, baby, yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against your lips while you thrash under his touch. “I love watching you come,” he tells you and you tremble, coming down from your high. “You’re so beautiful.”

“The same to you,” you say with a grin, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath while running your hand through his hair. “Love you, Brendon. So much.”

“Love you too, babydoll. So fucking much.” He pulls out of you, groaning your name. “I’m gonna take you upstairs now, and we’re gonna take a hot bath.”

“Mmmmm,” you purr, tracing a finger down his chest. “And then what?”

“Then, tomorrow I’m going to call the contractor to have them add a whirlpool tub to our sex dungeon bathroom so we can clean up and relax there after.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he laughs, gesturing between your bodies. “Want to be able to drag my wife right to the tub after I fill her up with cum and make her soak my cock. Stairs sound miserable.”

“Agreed,” you murmur, clinging to him. “But while you’re on the phone with the—”

“Don’t worry, love,” Brendon whispers against your forehead as he presses a gentle kiss there. “I’ll also mention the full wet bar in the lounge, because that was a great, highly necessary idea. Even if it means we won’t be able to send the guys out of the room or sneak away under the pretense of getting alcohol.”

“No pretense needed. I’ll just tell them I want to ride your dick and I don’t want them to watch, so they need to go amuse themselves in the theatre for ten minutes. As we’ve learned, five isn’t enough.”

Brendon smiles down at you. “My best, dirty girl,” he teases. “So clever. But tonight, after this bath upstairs, I’m going to tease you by licking and sucking every inch of you except your pussy, until you beg for my tongue. And then, I’ll eat you out til you can’t say anything but my name. Once I’ve made you come a few times with my mouth and we’ve made out with the sweet taste of your cunt on my tongue, I’m gonna get you on your hands and knees, so I can give you my cock from behind, just like you like it.”

You whimper, clinging to him and nodding. Brendon strokes a hand over your hair, murmuring, “I know you love feeling me fill you like that, slamming my hips into your ass, working my cock deep into you, rubbing your clit with two fingers and making you lose control.” His soft voice is a contrast to the explicit words, and you love it. “What do you think of my plan, pretty girl?”

“I think you’re the smartest, sexiest, best man I could ever ask for, and I’ll come up with some very explicit ways to thank you for your hard work and generosity.”

“That’s all I ask, babydoll.” Brendon kisses you softly before nuzzling your neck and scooping you up. “Now, let’s head upstairs.”

[ncisladaily]

Kathy Bates transforms into a lawyer on the hunt for justice in CBS‘ Matlock, but the series premiere revealed in its final moments that her mission has a more specific focus than she’s let on. Madeline “Matty” Matlock has assumed an entirely fake identity that explains this reboot’s connection to the original 1980s TV show. The Andy Griffith legal series isn’t being recreated here. Rather, it’s directly referenced by the central character through her deep emotional connection to the series.

Matlock‘s premiere episode — which premiered on Sunday, September 22 at 8/7c but will switch to Thursdays at 9/8c starting October 17 — began with Bates’ unassuming grandma snagging a job at the prestigious Jacobson Moore law firm. She does so by sharing key information about what a legal opponent is willing to dole out in a settlement, securing an extra $4 million for the firm in the process. Matty used her innocent grandmother persona to listen in on this man’s conversation at a coffee shop that morning and to sneak into the Jacobson Moore office right in front of everyone’s noses. She got the job and immediately began revealing small, unexpectedly personal details about her life.

For starters, Matty said she’s a widowed grandmother who lived in a loveless marriage before her husband died and left her in considerable debt. Her daughter also died, she revealed to her colleagues, leaving her to raise her sassy teenage grandson whom she says hates her. Matty challenges presumptions about her with comedically sexual statements and an undeniable charm, and she proves herself a worthy hire through her willingness to lie to get potential sources to share information. All of these details make Matty quirky and likable and prove her skills as a lawyer.

The entire narrative is flipped on its head in the episode’s final scenes when it’s revealed that Matty is actually quite wealthy — wealthy enough to have a personal driver. Said driver takes her home to the massive house where her very much alive and adoring husband, Edwin (Sam Anderson), is waiting, as is her grandson who worships the ground she walks on. “Matlock” is really Mrs. Kingston, and she’s chosen Jacobson Moore for a reason. Her daughter really did die, leaving her and her husband to raise their grandson. And all three of them are in on an elaborate plan to avenge her death, caused by an opioid overdose.

According to Matty one of the firm’s top lawyers — either Beau Bridges‘ Julian Sr., Jason Ritter‘s Julian Jr., or Skye P. Marshall‘s Olympia — knowingly buried documents that would’ve gotten opioids off the streets a decade earlier. They’re determined to prove this and avenge all of the innocent lives lost to opioid addiction and their families. Matty is using the fact that she’s “damn near invisible” because of her age to secretly investigate the firm’s alleged wrongdoings.

Sonja Flemming / CBS

The O.G. Matlock connection comes from Matty and her husband’s history of watching the series with their daughter, a tradition continued with her own son. They’re inspired by the character to take legal justice into their own hands and use the character’s name as an alias to top it all off.

Showrunner Jennie Snyder Urman knows a thing or two about creating a layered story with a big twist. She did so with Jane the Virgin, which slowly drew out the story of Jane’s (Gina Rodriguez) unbelievable life that culminated in a fantastic reveal of the show’s series-long narrator in the very final episode. Here, Urman explains the Matlock twist, from how they made it work to Bates’ reaction to it, as well as the twists to come to TV Insider and TV Guide Magazine’s Kate Hahn.

Big twist at the end. Huge twist. Didn’t see that one coming. I don’t think any viewers are going to see that coming at all.

Jennie Snyder Urman: I hope so. I love that feeling of being genuinely shocked. And it’s rare because audiences are sophisticated, so we were really hoping that it would be as shocking as you’re saying it was. So that’s good.

When Kathy first read that script, what were your conversations with her about this huge twist?

That was what made it the most compelling to her. At the beginning when you’re reading and watching, Kat Coiro (the director) and I were really conscious that you don’t even want to smell a twist. You don’t want to smell moody. You want to be on a satisfying journey of a fish-out-of-water older woman joining a very slick law firm and appreciate that that could be the show. I wanted to make sure that that worked on its own. And then the twist added all of these other layers and allowed us to know that we were going to go in deeper and darker, and there were going to be secrets and twists along the way.

When Kathy got to the twist, she realized that, oh, this character is playing so many levels all at once and everything is not as it seems. And there was going to be a lot of complexity to the character. That’s what she looks for in roles, the juiciest, the most layered. And so our conversations were all about that and how exciting it could be, and then continuing to talk along the way [to make sure] that we build all of that specificity into the performance.

Going forward, what can audiences expect? Is there going to be more that we learn about this, about why she’s there, about her past?

You will continually learn more and more about Matty, about what her life was like before, about her past, about how she got into this, about why we continue to deepen the reveals as we go in terms of character revelations. But also the show is structured so that there is a surprise at the end of every episode. Some will be bigger, some will be smaller. I have plans for achieving ones that are hopefully as shocking as the pilot, but they’re not all going to be. But they all will have a secret and there will always be a twist.

There’s always a sense in the writer’s room of, here are the cards that we’re showing the audience, and here are the cards that we’re keeping down and waiting to reveal at the end. That gives it an exciting energy.

She was a lawyer before, so what’s the chance of someone walking into this law firm who knows her from her real life?

She was a lawyer, and she’s in a totally different area of the law. She was sort of at the end of her career, so she’s coming in under the radar. She has a totally different name. She is counting on the fact that she won’t be recognized. And who knows if that holds true.

Who’s the most likely in the law firm to start to become suspicious of her?

Yael Grobglas plays this human lie detector, this jury consultant who can sniff out the truth. [She is] definitely somebody who comes into the office and throws Matty off a little bit early on.

Olympia’s pretty smart. What can we say about how Matty starts to feel ethically, morally when she gets closer to these people?

That’s the spine. You go in and you expect it to be one thing, you’re moving chess pieces along and then all of a sudden these chess pieces start talking to you and they have feelings and you get closer and suddenly it’s not a chess game. It’s a human game.

That is what becomes really hard for Matty, because I will say the love story at the center of this show is the love story between Olympia and Matty. It’s a hard-earned love story, and it’s a friendship that comes with peaks and valleys and they both learn from each other. They both grow and change. And when they come together, it’s incredibly satisfying and incredibly deep and meaningful to both of them. And then Matty’s still lying to her.

It just takes everything and amplifies the tension, and it makes it so much harder for Matty and makes her so much less comfortable with what she’s doing. She has to constantly make these moral and ethical decisions that she just didn’t anticipate when she was gaming out her strategy.

Brooke Palmer / CBS

She has also enlisted her grandson, who is 14. Does that become an issue at all?

She and her grandson both have this hole at the center of their lives. At the base of this is grief. The loss of a child or a parent; I can’t imagine anything more life-shattering. Life keeps moving and you’re just like, but wait, how? That is what these two have between them. They get so close. It’s a way of healing themselves, grieving, doing something for their mother [and daughter] that they both felt like they didn’t get to over her lifetime.

And then Edwin, Matty’s husband — played by Sam Anderson, who’s really wonderful — is the one who’s saying, I understand that he wants to be doing this, but should he be doing this? Is this really the path to healing? How about his life? How about his school? How about what we’re teaching him about deception and subterfuge and using people and manipulating people? Everything becomes more complicated, and his involvement in it becomes a more fraught piece between husband and wife.

There are some great almost espionage moments, which he’s part of. Tell me about what an audience is going to look forward to as far as those high-stakes moments she’ll get.

What I think is so exciting is that after the pilot, you get to be on the inside with Matty. So whereas we couldn’t smell any mood and we didn’t have to see twists coming [in the pilot] and we didn’t want to feel that tension, we get to feel it all the way through now ’cause we’re on the inside. We know the stakes, we know what she’s hiding, and we know what she’s after most of the time. That just gives this extra sense of, “No, don’t get caught!”

I really wanted the show to have these moments of espionage. There’s always going to be a little mission that she’s got to accomplish within the episode. There’s the larger legal case, there are the emotional stories, and then there’s going to be the mission of the episode, which is the spy element of what she has to get, what piece of information she’s trying to uncover on her way to solving the larger mystery. And sometimes she wins and gets it, and sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she’s almost caught, and sometimes she is and has to talk her way out of it. All of that is a fun tension that we get to play with now that the audience is let into the twist.

You said in some other interviews that when we get to the end of this first season, there’s going to be another reveal where Matty was fooling the audience. What can you tease about that?

It’s not that suddenly the whole show is going to flip and what you thought was true is no longer true. It’s not that, certainly not. It’s more just, we continue to reveal things and hopefully you’ll get a sense of surprises. And the case has its own reveals in what she knows and how she knows. But the person that she tells us she is at the end of the pilot is the person she is.

[riris-dock]

Ooga booga mindless self insert brainshits

[volleychumps]

Congrats on 3k!! SO its canon that Osamu loves onigiri n even opens his iwn shop in the future, I want to request a scenario where Osamu meets this girl who chill n nonchalant n loves onigiri(n all food!) just like him and isnt interested in him like all the other fangirls yk n hes just slowly falls in love yk hehe (set in high school pls!) Thank you!! I love ur blog!

Aight bet- I’m finally working on this piece skfkjdsfkjsdf

Genre: Fluff, one-shot 

Warning(s): mild cursing, mild nsfw themes at the end 

Foodie. (Osamu Miya) 

- the one in which your love for food perks Osamu Miya’s interest- 

-----------------------------------------

“Whoaa, Samu- why so much today?” Suna sweat drops at the sight of his friend’s lunch box as the gray-haired boy runs a hand through his fringe, shrugging lightly as his friend pulls up a seat to eat lunch with him at his desk. Breaking his chopsticks apart, his voice falls to a casual tone. 

“Took ‘Sumu’s.” 

“Why would you take your brother’s if you have the opportunity to get like six bentos a day?” Suna poked a straw into his juice, tilting his head with a lazy smirk. 

Osamu visibly shuddered, pretending not to see the group of girls peering around the corner and into his classroom, knowing better. The first time he had accepted a bento from any of them, it had obviously been store-bought and rearranged to make hearts and such. The gesture would have been ignored and eaten if he didn’t find a few stray hairs in the octopus weiners, and the thought of someone’s hands rearranging perfectly good food made him queasy.

“I wish ‘Sumu’s rejects didn’t come to me.” Osamu mumbles, and Suna chuckles lightly, setting down his juice before peering to his right at the classmate who had settled back down in her seat from having her lunch in the courtyard. 

“Oi, Y/N-san. That looks good.” 

“You want the rest?” You offer, having made too much onigiri the night before, stopping the movement to put the lid atop your bento. You were done with it anyways, and the leftovers usually got put in the fridge to be forgotten about. 

Suna glances at the onigiri, shrugging before taking the two left in the box as you smile cooly at his thanks, putting in your earbuds before laying your head on your desk to catch some much-needed shut eye before class resumed. 

Osamu looks up, not really paying much attention to Suna’s interaction, with a now cleaned out bento-box as his dark eyes land on the now outstretched onigiri in Suna’s hand. The middle blocker shrugs, eating the pointed top of the onigiri with a content look on his face: it was good. 

“Where’d you even get that?” Osamu’s voice was on edge as Suna rolls his eyes, pressing the ball of rice further. 

“Some place safe, I promise. If you weren’t too absorbed in your food you would know.” 

Osamu looks at the onigiri in his hand warily, seeing there were at least no hairs on it before sighing and taking a cautious bite. Onigiri was something he loved most, and he hoped taking this mystery rice ball wouldn’t ruin his- 

wait. 

Suna swore he could see stars in his friend’s eyes as Osamu took a second, larger bite, snapping his head up to meet Suna’s what the hell expression. 

“Where did you even get this?” He repeated his last question, staring at the onigiri as if it had to be sheltered, protected, and loved under his care as Suna lazily finishes his last bite. 

“Tuna mayo. I used special seasoning in the rice when I formed them.” You interrupt, yawning with a stray headphone out of your ear. “Turned out good, no?” 

“Oh. I’m not interested in dating right now, sorry.” 

The beat of silence that followed Osamu’s blunt sentence was heavy, and you amusedly look at Suna, who had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. 

“Oh. What a shame.” The teasing tone filled your voice as Osamu arched an eyebrow, and you glance at the slightly glaring group of girls before connecting the dots. Still, you couldn’t really find the meaning in explaining that his assumptions were surely not the case, settling for sticking your headphone back in and resting your head back on your desk. 

Suna sighs as Osamu blinks, realization dawning onto him. 

“Wait...she wasn’t-” 

“No. She wasn’t. Idiot.” 

The bell rang as Suna got up to return to his desk, and Osamu Miya casts a glance at the girl who sat next to him, tiredly pulling her earbuds out again to listen to the next lecture. A part of him wanted to apologize, but the thought of that had sent an unexplainable heat to the tips of his ears. 

Instead, he rummages in his bag-

and you blink when a can of coffee hits the corner of your desk with a slight tap, Osamu pulling his notes out as if he hadn’t in the first place. He sits forward, feeling your confused stare as he flips open his notebook. 

“For the onigiri.” 

-------------------------

“Again? Another one?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t get them too.” Osamu sighs to his brother, shifting the letters around in his shoe locker to get his actual shoes. “This is all your fault, anyways.” 

“The little pigs never learn, do they?” Atsumu grins, and his twin rolls his eyes at the brashness of his words as Atsumu’s shoulder touches the lockers. “You coming to practice today?” 

“Do I have a choice?” 

“Nope.” Atsumu pops the p, spinning on his heel. “I’m going ahead, sweet brother of mine.” 

“Bite my ass.” Osamu replies evenly, shoving the letters deeper into his locker.

“No, mine is better. Thanks for the offer though.” 

The wing-spiker runs a hand through his silver hair, seeing out of the corner of his eye a group of girls hyping up the girl in the middle, looking in his direction as he witholds a sigh. He didn’t hold the brashness of his brother, but he did get tired of the endless confessions sent his way, based soley on his looks- nothing else. 

His mental preparation for rejecting her was interrupted when a hand reaches out, and dark eyes widen slightly when you lean into him, your hand resting on the area of the side of his body. Osamu arches a brow at your easy smile as your face remains inches apart from his own. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Give it...twenty more seconds.” You reply, and Osamu blinks in utter confusion, about to ask what the absolute hell you’re talking about before a series of footsteps run away, a few whimpers in the mix as you pull back abruptly. 

“They’re gone.” You say, opening up your own shoe locker before slipping the pair out casually. “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, hope it was at least better than having to deal with another crying girl.”

Osamu remains silent as you tap the point of your shoe against the ground twice before glancing at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

“You don’t have to be so...emotionless about it, you know? A simple apology afterwards would be enough. But hey, you don’t have to listen to a stranger.” You wink, waving backwards. “Sorry again, I thought I’d thank you for the coffee. It woke me up, Miya-san.” 

Your footsteps stop when he finally speaks. 

“...Osamu.” 

You glance back in surprise. 

“You can call me Osamu.” 

“Y/N.” You smile a little, nodding your head before continuing to walk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Osamu.” 

Osamu didn’t reply as you walked out of the school, watching from behind you as you untangled your headphones in the midst of walking-

not understanding the foreign feeling of being on the other side of a crush, usually being the one crushed on all this time.

-----------------------------------------------------

“Y/N, got any free food for me today?” 

“Suna, I swear-” 

Suna grins lazily at you as you cross your legs, rolling your eyes playfully as Osamu scoffs at the audacity of his friend. Today, you ate your lunch with the two boys in your classmates you had somehow grown closer to, ignoring the heated stares on the back of your neck. 

“I’ll trade you a tamago for a kaarage.” Suna says finally, and your eyes light up at the offer.

“Deal.” You say immediately, Osamu hiding the beginnings of a smile at your love for food behind his hand as he continues to eat. Suna easily swipes one of the pieces of chicken from your box, putting into his mouth before nodding as he chewed in appreciation for the flavor. 

The silver-haired middle blocker found himself not eating anymore when Suna held a rolled egg up to you on that same pair of chopsticks. You look at him strangely, and Osamu, the quieter one of you three, could only watch as you ate it anyways. 

“It’s good, right? I made it.” 

“Tell your mom I send her my regards.” You reply nonchalantly, and Suna groans at how easily you had figured out his lie before you notice that the quiet Osamu had somehow grown even quieter. 

Did...did you two just indirectly...?

You and Suna exchange glances, and the dark-haired boy simply shrugs before going back to his lunch as an idea pops into your head. 

“You want to try, Osamu? I won’t make you trade anything for it.” 

“Favortism, much?” 

The middle blocker feels his chest swell when you lift your own chopsticks up to him, grinning when Osamu’s spirits immediately lift. 

“You and food, it’s abnormal-” 

“Suna, no one likes your commentary.” You bite back, and you tilt your head slightly when Osamu takes your wrist, steadying your hand as he eats the kaarage at the end of your chopsticks.

You’re wide-eyed when he pulls back, chewing with the beginnings of a smirk on his features at the doe-eyed expression on your face. The place where his hand held was warm. 

“ S’ delicious as always. Thank you.” 

----------------------------------

The sky swirled with dark clouds forming over head as you looked up, frowning while tightening your hands on your grocery bags. Osamu glances at you, the light patter of rain hitting the pavement as you look at him guiltily. 

“Sorry ‘Samu, I shouldn’t have asked you to come shopping with me after school.” 

The unlikely friendship had developed to the point where you and Osamu were really good friends, the silver-haired boy even seeing you home on some nights after an unplanned hangout with Suna after their volleyball practices. 

You even called him ‘Samu, and he didn’t correct you. 

....In fact, he liked it when you called him that. 

“Mm. Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” 

“I hate you.” You pout, and Osamu puts a single hand atop your head, shrugging while smirking a little. 

“No you don’t. Got anywhere to be tonight?” 

“Nah, no one’s home right now.” You chewed on your lip, knowing Osamu was watching you as you stared at the coming rain. He knew you hated storms, and in all honesty wanted to get you somewhere safe with people as soon as he could. 

“Want to come to mine? ‘Sumu’s practicing extra and my parents are working.” 

“...are you sure?” You say in unease, and Osamu clicks his tongue before taking the bags from your hands and setting them down, shuffling in his practice bag for a second.

“Here. We’ll run to mine, it’s not far from here. Pull the hood all the way up.” 

“Awh, do you care about me?” 

Yes. “Nah, don’t get your hopes up.” 

Osamu watched as you slipped the oversized material over your head, coughing to hide the smile that came at the sight. 

“You’re telling me we’re going to run? In the rain?” 

“Do you want to protect the food you bought or not?” 

“...you’re right, let’s go.” 

-------------------------------------

He could definitely get used to this. 

Almost immediately, Osamu had shoved you into the bathroom after turning on the hot water, ignoring your whines about how you were fine before setting a folded pile of one of his shirts and sweatpants in front of the door. 

It felt comfortable, the pouring of the rain outside, as Osamu mixed broth in a pot while knowing you were here with him in the safety of somewhere he knew you’d be okay. Months of friendship hadn’t made him take any particular advances towards you, seeing as you hardly noticed his feeble attempts anyways. Suna’s advice to just go for it, rang in his ears, the silver-haired boy becoming so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t see you enter the kitchen. 

His breath hitches at the bareness of your legs, his shirt covering down your form to mid-thigh as he quickly returns his attention back to the pot. 

“I left pants there, you know. Real comfy.” 

“They don’t fit.” You shrug, approaching the sink. “Do you need me to wash the vegetables?” 

He merely nods once, fighting to keep his heart rate under control as you do so, continuing to bring the broth to a boil. Still, he physically liked the atmosphere of you here in his kitchen, wearing his shirt while making dinner. Your hair was damp and pushed to one side, and you hum a light tune to yourself as you begin to chop carrots. 

“My curry is going to knock your onigiri out of the water.” 

“I’m offended.” Osamu glares at you as you giggle, looking down at the final product after an hour. You offer him a bit of the broth on a spoon, rolling your eyes at the cautious look on his face when he sips it. 

A pleasant look crosses his face before he can stop himself, and you grin, not really thinking about it as you put the spoon in your mouth to get a taste for yourself. You cheer, jumping up and down cutely as Osamu leans against the counter, crossing his arms with a small smirk as you open up the rice cooker. 

“Man, wish Suna was here. We made way too much.” 

A spike of jealousy flits through his stomach as he watches you begin to plate the food, his jaw clenching. 

He wanted this. He wanted your banter, your cooking, your love for food, and your nonchalant personality.

 He wanted you. He wanted you with no risk of losing you to anyone else, no matter how platonic. 

Just go for it.

“Y/N.”  

“‘Samu, can you grab the-?” 

You never finished your question. 

Osamu took two wide steps across the kitchen, hand grabbing your waist to pull you into him tightly while his other hand rested against the counter top on your side. He gripped onto the stone countertop as he kissed you, roughly and impatiently, as you sigh into it as if you had been waiting for it. 

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping your lips as the hand on the counter moves to entangle in your hair. He uses his weight to lean into you, lifting you slightly to sit you on the counter as he stands between your legs, the smell of your clean skin filling his lungs in the now heated kitchen. 

When a sound slips your lips, he’s pulling back, wide-eyed at the fact that he had let every bit of pent up emotion spill out of him. You bite your slightly swollen lips, pulling him closer to you with your hand on the side of his neck. 

“It’s about damn time.” 

“Whatever.” Osamu says, the corner of his lips quirking up as he kisses down your neck sweetly, loving the way your bare legs tightened around him. All the sexual tension, every moment of heavy silence that seemed to say all the words he had feared to say, all combusted in this moment. 

“Samu?” You pipe up, pouting when his hand begins to slip up your thigh. 

“Hm?” 

“Can we eat first?” 

Osamu stares at you for a second before chuckling, resting his head on your shoulder as you kiss his temple. 

“Of course we can eat first. God, I love you so much.” 

----------------------------------------

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046 @let-me-have-my-own-name @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @aprettyfruit @wisepandaslimeland @h0ngh0ngh0ng @lmkjimin @therestless101 @orangegiraffe7 @dai-tsukki-desu @kac-chowsballs

[destieldailynews]

John’s Journal, Indian Missions and the Lesbian Nuns

January 16th, 2021

By @lateral-org​

Our staff had a lot of conversations about how to frame this topic. None of us are Native American so we wanted to make sure we didn’t spread any misinformation while still using our platform. Our compromise was to try to speak using sources for information rather than personal opinions.

TL:DR

It is our responsibility to educate ourselves on Native American history. Even moreso as Supernatural fans, since so much of the show’s mythology is derived from Native American beliefs. Native Americans are still forced to live under oppressive laws constructed by the people responsible for the deaths of millions of their forefathers. Raising awareness is the first step to combatting this injustice. Links to more resources and places to donate are at the end of this post. 

We’ve gotten a few confused asks about how this post relates to John’s Journal entry. In the post it makes some remarks connecting the journal entry to children being tortured. The aim of this article is to provide the missing context linking the two together and why it matters. 

Here’s the quote from John’s Journal:

January 24: Dean turns seventeen today. We went shooting. Then I sent him out on his first hunt. I’ve let him take the lead before, but I’ve always been there to back him up. This time he’s on his own. Partly it’s a test, and partly I wanted some time with Sammy. Should be no problem for Dean. Ghosts of two nuns haunting St. Stephen’s Indian Mission in Riverton, Wyoming. Simple salt-and-burn mission. Nuns in love with each other, then discovered. Killed themselves. We scoped the situation out, figured that something must be left behind that’s now a focus for the haunting. Bible, rosary beads, some small article that’s hidden somewhere in their room. I figured Dean would take care of it no problem, but I still stayed close by with Sammy... [Sam wants a normal life] … Dean took care of the nuns just like I thought he would, but I don’t think I’m going to be sending him on any more solos soon. That one was a little tense.

And that’s all she wrote. So why does this matter? It doesn’t talk about killing kids, just about lesbian nuns who were part of an indian mission. What’s the problem? Well, let’s start with the basics. 

What is an Indian mission?

Basically, an Indian mission is a reeducation camp for Native Americans. 

From an article published on History.com about indian missions in California:

The main goal of the California missions was to convert Native Americans into devoted Christians and Spanish citizens.

Spain used mission work to influence the natives with cultural and religious instruction.

Another motivation for the missions was to ensure that rival countries, such as Russia and Great Britain, didn’t try to occupy the California region first.

Why is that so bad? 

Indian missions contributed to the loss of hundreds of thousands of Native American lives. 

From the same article:

The mission era influenced culture, religion, architecture, art, language and economy in the region.

But, the missions also impacted California Indian cultures in negative ways. Europeans forced the natives to change their civilization to match the modern world. In the process, local traditions, cultures and customs were lost.

Some critics have charged that the Spanish mission system forced Native Americans into slavery and prostitution, comparing the missions to “concentration camps.”

Additionally, Spanish missionaries brought diseases with them that killed untold thousands of natives.

Prior to the California missions, there were about 300,000 Native Californians. By 1834, scholars believe there were only about 20,000 remaining.

Now back to the post that spawned this question: 

When OP (@fettcockfriday) says, 

spend some time thinking about why you latched onto “lesbian nuns” over “children being tortured and murdered.” did you not know what an indian mission was? did you think it was less interesting, or less important? sit with that for a while. 

To someone who doesn’t know the history of Indian Missions and wasn’t paying close attention to the journal entry, this feels like it's coming out of nowhere. With context, though, you can understand where this comes from. 

In the journal entry, the Indian mission only has the weight of any other convent nuns could reside in. This is a problem rooted in the american habit of erasing the ugly parts of its history. I highly doubt that Alex Irvine thought twice about the relevance of indian missions when he wrote that into the diary entry, which is the problem. 

From IllumiNative: 

American students learn some of the most damaging misconceptions and biases toward Native Americans in grades K-12. In fact, 87 percent of history books in the U.S. portray Native Americans as a population existing before 1900, according to a 2014 study on academic standards. For many Americans, we no longer exist.

With minimal mention of contemporary issues and ongoing conflicts over land and water rights or tribal sovereignty, Native Americans have become invisible and it can be argued that it makes it easier for non-Natives to take the lead on creating their own narratives about us. Our invisibility makes it easier to create and support racist mascots or over sexualize caricatures of Native women in everything from fashion to Halloween costumes.

For the well-being of Native peoples and future generations, these false narratives, the invisibility and erasure of Native peoples must end.

Native Americans are still disenfranchised, suffering under oppressive laws constructed by the people responsible for the deaths of millions of their forefathers. Attempts to reeducate native children are still happening to this day. The only way to move forward is to face the past and listen to the voices who have been kept quiet for so long. 

Resources:

Links for educating yourself:

The Traumatic Legacy of Indian Boarding Schools-The Atlantic

The Erasure Of Native America

History of Residential Schools- Indigenous People’s Atlas of Canada

We Were All Wounded at Wounded Knee-TikTok

How this affects white Americans: 

Whose Land Are You On?

Did You Know... All These States Have Native Names!

UNIST'OT'EN | Background of the Campaign

Thanksgiving - Tumblr

Knowledge Center- First Nations 

Ways to Donate:

#settlersaturday, gofundmes for native people

Ways to Give- First Nations

Support Us - Native American Rights Fund

Support the Wet'suwet'en Hereditary Chiefs!

17 Organizations Providing Emergency Food Relief to Native Communities During COVID-19

Support Native American businesses: 

Birch Bark Coffee Company

Indigenous Cosmetics

Red Planet Books and Comics - Unleash Your Indigenous Imagination

Orenda Tribe Clothing

20+ Native American-Owned Businesses to Shop

Please tag, submit, or link any other accounts or resources related to this topic to us @destieldailynews​, we will reblog as much as we can.

[angryschnauzer]

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing:  August Walker x OFC Freya (Forest Nymph) Original Female Character is described as white/pale, short and of small build, hazel eyes, long dark hair.

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of past abusive relationships, on the run, alcohol consumption, Daddy Kink, DD/LG, Pet names, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, hyperspermia, cum play, cum feeding, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy test.

Previous Parts: 

Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand  Castle Under The Stars. Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1 Vampire Walter: Chapter 2

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

The blood slowly trickled across the board and off the table, coating the floor before running into the drain. August raised the heavy cleaver, and with one thunderous swipe severed the femur clean in two. The cleaver made a metallic clang that echoed around the stark tile lined room, and wiping his hands on his apron he lifted the product of his work and inspected his efforts closely. A smile spread over his lips as he looked up;

“There we go Mrs Mackenzie, a nice juicy bone for your dog”

The old woman smiled, her purple tinted grey hair in tight curls that barely moved as she nodded;

“Oh yes, that’ll be perfect! My Clarence will love it!”

At that very moment Clarence started yapping outside where he was tied to the specials chalkboard that sat on the sidewalk outside Walkers Meats, 10lbs of teeth, fur and anger wrapped into the body of a small West Highland Terrier;

“I’m sure he will. I’ll wrap it up for you and Freya will finish ringing up your order for you. We’ll get it delivered this afternoon…”

August walked around the counter and set the wrapped bone into the box, nodding to his assistant to finish up the order. She knew that the bone would be free of charge, but that Mrs Mackenzie would insist on tipping and sliding her $10 which August was more than happy for Freya to keep. The slight girl turned and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, before she quietly nodded and continued with her duties.

Returning to the butchery area August glanced up and caught sight of his reflection in the painted mirror, the design obscuring the scarring on the side of his face, giving him that moment of relief from those memories of a past long ago, a life he had left behind when he had sought out quiet solitude in the peaceful mountain town of Blackwater Lake. People minded their own business there and didn’t ask questions. If you had a skill that could help others you were welcomed into the community. How August got into the meat business is a story for another day, but as his gaze travelled across the mirror to where Freya was measuring out the wild herb mixes into small mason jars he smiled and remembered instead how she came into his life.

-

Pulling the sign in from the sidewalk August was exhausted. Running a business completely on his own had seemed like a good idea when he’d started, he enjoyed his own company and he distrusted anyone else to do the job to a standard he would approve of. What he hadn’t counted on was the residents of this sleepy little town not only accepting him, but joyous that he was there and wanting to talk endlessly every time they visited his store. Although he was always polite and did his best to end conversations quickly, after eight hours of it he had jaw ache and knew he would need to work well into the night on the new sides of beef that had been delivered that morning if he were to have any stock to sell the next day. He glanced longingly at the small sign that sat propped up in the window; ‘Help Needed - Enquire Within’, yet he hadn’t had any takers in the month the sign had been up. 

The icy winter wind curled at his neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he let out a sigh, heaving the heavy sign into the building so it didn’t blow away in the night as a icy squall blew in from the mountains. As the door slammed shut behind him it echoed a knock around the store, but when it came again he turned and let out a far from masculine yelp; the face of a pale young woman stared back at him like a ghoul in the darkness. Clearing his throat and smoothing down his blue and white striped apron, he approached the door and opened it;

“May I help you Miss?”

She nodded down to the sign;

“Do you still need someone?”

Her teeth were chattering, and it was hardly surprising as she was barely dressed for the weather, the knitted cardigan doing little to ward off the cold wind. August opened the door to allow her to enter, looking down at the top of her head as she slunk past him.

“Let me get a pot of coffee on, you must be freezing”

As he disappeared into the back office he set the pot of coffee on to heat before grabbing an old jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, returning to where his visitor stood in the store a few moments later, handing her the jacket;

“Its cold in here, we can’t have the heat on because of the meat”

Nodding she took the jacket, her teeth still chattering;

“T-t-thanks… its still warmer than outside”

He handed her a mug of steaming coffee;

“Sorry, i don’t have any creamer or sugar…” She wrapped her delicate fingers around the mug using it more for heat than sustenance as he leant back against the counter on the other side of the store; “So… you’re wanting a job? What experience have you got? You worked in retail?”

She shook her head and muttered a quiet no, keeping her eyes averted from him as she spoke;

“But i will try anything… just looking for a new start”

“Are you running from something?” A gentle nod of her head and the way she clutched the mug tighter told August it was a someone not a something; “Look, if you’re willing to learn, work hard and pay attention, i’ll give you a trial. I’ve gotta level with you, you’re the only person who’s shown any interest in the sign, and i’m getting desperate, so if you want you can start tomorrow”

Her head snapped up and for the first time he saw her eyes, deep hazel peering out from behind long strands of dark brown hair;

“Really?”

“Yes. Really” he stated in a matter of fact way; “I’ll need to get your address and details for the wages…”

“Oh… i’m not… i’ve not got anywhere. I guess i’ll find a cheap motel…”

August paused;

“Kid, there’s no motel in town… at least not this time of year. But i might have a solution for you”

Her eyes widened in fear and August realised whatever she was running from had done more damage than she showed;

“No no, not that” he assured her; “There’s a small apartment above the shop - two in fact, i’ve got one and the other i’ve never rented out, never got round to it… its small but completely self contained, your own entrance and everything, completely secure”

Once a few forms had been filled out August had gotten the girl settled in the small studio apartment. He’d shown her how the fold out bed worked, explained that the hot water fed off the furnace for the whole building so she could use as much as she wanted. A couple of minutes after he’d left her in the apartment he knocked at her door, surprised to hear the locks sliding across at first, but then realising she needed to feel safe. When she peered around the door she almost looked surprised to see him there, as if it would be anyone else;

“Umm yeah?”

August handed her a box of things he’d scavenged from his own kitchen;

“Here’s just a few things to see you through the night… I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, but the bread was in the freezer and it’ll defrost pretty quickly if you put it in the toaster”

He handed the box to Freya, surprised at how smooth but also small her hands were as she took it from him as they brushed against his own. She nodded and smiled;

“Thank you Mr Walker”

“Night. See you bright and early tomorrow morning” 

-

The next morning August woke to an insistent knocking on his door. Grumbling to himself he pulled on his robe and stalked across his small apartment, pulling the door open with a thunderous look on his face, ready to give whatever maniac that was knocking on his door at 5am a piece of his mind;

“WHAT THE… oh… hi…”

Freya was standing on his doormat, a look of shock on her face;

“Hi… i’m ready to start”

“To… start?”

“Work. You said bright and early”

August ran his palm over his face;

“I… When i said…” he let out a long slow breath; “I meant 8am”

“Oh.”

That was a long day, but by lunchtime Freya had mastered the cash desk and had already started to come out of her shell, the locals more than welcoming for the tiny girl with the woodland eyes, and with her help August was able to catch up on his work.

Over the following month her input had helped August expand his products, suggesting a range of seasonings in reusable jars, where if the customer returned the mason jar they’d get a discount off the next one they purchased. He discovered she had this unfathomable knowledge of herbs and plants, but also had this connection with nature he couldn’t quite understand. He’d sometimes catch her staring out of the window at the trees blowing in the wind, as if listening to their songs that were beyond his own ears.

One thing was for sure, there was a sense of magic to her and August thanked the stars above that she walked into his store on that cold winter night.

-

Back in the present August was busy cleaning the cutting table as Freya busied herself with her jars - it was her own little enterprise now and one she was absolutely proud of. He could see that she kept glancing outside, gnawing on her lip;

“Freya, everything ok?”

“Yes Mr Walker. I was just thinking, the next batch wild garlic is ready to be picked, if i collect some this afternoon i can have more chimichurri mixed ready for tomorrow, and that’s when the beef delivery is coming in”

August let out a chuckle;

“How many times do I have to say to call me August…” he met her gaze with a smile; “And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. The store’s quiet and i’ll be doing deliveries in a while, so sure, go exploring”

“Thank you Mr Walker”

August rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, watching as she hung up her apron and grabbed her foraging basket, skipping out of the door and towards the creek that fed into the lake a couple of miles away.

-

Three hours later August was driving back along the gravel road that led into town, having made his deliveries. The spring air was damp but warm, rain threatening to spill but the clouds unwilling to release their bounty just yet. Rounding the bend he looked out over the soft marshland, the grass knee high already and he saw a familiar figure stepping through the green undergrowth. With a smile he pulled his SUV to a stop at the side of the road, stepping out of the vehicle he leaned against the door as he watched Freya as she slowly made her way through the field, before she stopped as her attention moved to the treeline. Following her gaze he watched as a bear emerged from the woods and his heart sank. The native wildlife would be coming out of hibernation, and would be grumpy and hungry. He went to shout but a sudden rush of wind silenced his voice, watching as she held her arm out and the grass flattened in front of her as if a wind devil had made its way through. Glancing back to the bear it had stopped in its tracks but was still staring at her, but then started to circle around on the spot before settling down as if for a nap.

August anxiously watched, knowing if Freya ran she could make it to the car as long as the bear was weak, but he didn’t want to risk that it hadn’t had a belly full of salmon yet, so he quickly reached into the vehicle and pulled his unregistered handgun from beneath his seat. Back at the side of the road he raised the firearm at the bear, glancing at Freya who had now spotted him waiting for her. She started to quicken her pace through the grasses, eventually breaking into a run as she neared the embankment of the road. August glanced to where the bear had been and let out a yell as he saw it was starting to approach them;

“Freya, RUN!”

Doing as he instructed she broke into a sprint, her legs carrying her through the grass and up the embankment. Flinging his door open he motioned for her to dive in, her basket being launched into the passenger footwell as she tumbled across the centre console and into the passenger seat, August launching himself into the driver's seat and gunning the engine as he slammed the door shut, the urgent crunch of tyres on loose gravel dulling the sound of the grizzly’s roar as it had caught up, but was now rapidly disappearing into the distance of the rear view mirror.

August only slowed down as he reached the urban centre of Blackwater Lake, Freya’s breathing having finally levelled out as she turned to him;

“So… there’s bears here?”

He slowed the vehicle and pulled to a stop in a parking lot before turning to her;

“Yes. And moose and cougars and mountain lions… hell sometimes I even hear howls in the night so there’s probably something wolfy up in those mountains too… We need to get you better prepared for nature” August paused; “And what was that thing you did with your hand? That made the grass flatten and the bear sit down…”

Freya shrugged;

“I’m not sure… it's just this thing i’ve always been able to do, calm animals down”

“Huh. Didn’t seem to work this time…”

She glanced at him, her eyes wide;

“I think that was because you were there…”

August let out a laugh, before sitting back in his seat;

“Okay, point taken. I need a drink. We’re at Big-G’s, I'll buy you dinner…”

-

August regretted his decision. He hadn’t factored in how slight Freya was in comparison to her ability to consume alcohol, so three drinks later where all he’d had was lite beer, Freya was completely wasted. The giveaway was when she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder whilst he’d been talking to Geralt - the bar owner - and she’d started to drool on his shirt. Geralt had told him to ‘get his girl home’ with a wry laugh, telling August his meal was on the house. Something had stopped August from correcting the ashen haired man, looking down at the imp of the girl leaning on him. 

He’d managed to carry her to his car fairly easily but the journey up the steps at their building had been more of a challenge. He’d managed to get her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but had been surprised when she’d also wrapped her legs around his waist. Although it meant he could use one arm to hold her up, the feel of her warm body clinging to his sent a rush of heat through his stomach straight to his groin, he was just thankful she was so out of it she didn’t notice the tent in his pants. 

As he juggled his keys he found the spare for her apartment but then thought better of it, unsure how she was when she’d had alcohol, and instead opened his own apartment. Crossing the almost dark room he reached the couch and slowly lowered her down to the cushions, her whimpers of loss as he started to pull away making him pause;

“Mmmm Daddy, you’re so warm…” 

Holding her still a low rumble slowly bubbled through his throat when she nuzzled against his neck;

“Daddy smells so good…” and she pressed a kiss to the stubble on his chin.

August knew she was drunk, probably didn’t even realise it was him, after all who would want someone as broken and scarred as he was, but for that briefest of moment’s he relished her touch and what was going on in her tequila addled mind. He couldn’t help himself and pressed the briefest of kiss to her cheek;

“Time to sleep now little Kitten” he muttered before reluctantly uncoupling himself from her grasp, pulling a blanket over her as she dozed on his couch. Raking his hand down his face he let out a sigh, before grabbing a glass of water and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her. A scribbled note on the back of a flyer explained that she was drunk and he wasn’t sure if she would need his help, and he didn’t want to invade her privacy of her own apartment.

Having poured himself a generous glass of vodka, August withdrew to his own bedroom, silently closing the door before stripping for bed. It was an early night but without the TV to entertain him and no desire to get lost in a book, he settled on top of the covers in just his underwear, sipping at the ice cold liquor as he willed the swelling of his loins to subside. However every time he tried to clear his mind, all he could imagine was Freya. The thought of her small body beneath his, their bodies sweaty and writhing as one. Finally with a curse he gave in to his desires, pulling his underwear down and taking his hard length into his hand, pumping dry to increase the friction as his mind descended further into taboo territory. He imagined it was her hand, calling him Daddy as she asked if she was doing it right, that her perfect lips would duck down and take his bulbous tip into her mouth, her tongue lapping at his slit as her hazel eyes would stare back up at him, wide with innocence. With a strangled cry he came in violent spurts, covering his hand and stomach in ropes of his cum, thoughts of the delicate woman in his lounge lapping at his spent seed prolonging his orgasm until he was aching and empty. With a curse he looked down at the mess he’d made, realising he needed to clean himself up.

-

The quiet click of his front door woke August the next morning, pushing himself up off the pillow as he heard small footsteps down the outside of the building and the quiet beep of his car being unlocked. Wondering what the hell was happening he leapt out of bed and peered out of the window, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw a dishevelled Freya gathering the wild garlic that had been scattered around his inside of his vehicle the day before.

A few minutes later the thud of his keys falling onto his doormat where she’d posted them through the letterbox sounded through his apartment, and when he went to collect them he found a small note with them;

‘Mr Walker, thank you for your help, I hope I didn't make a fool of myself last night. Your car stinks of garlic now, i’m going to walk up the creek and collect some herbs that will help reduce the odour, Freya x’

-

An hour later when she hadn’t returned, August set off towards the creek through the pleasant woodland, the sunlight leaving dappled patches of gold on the forest floor. Coming to the wide bend in the creek where the water was shallow, he saw the swing over the water that someone had put there years ago, mismatched ropes and a wooden seat, and how someone had now woven wildflowers into the ropes, and as he glanced upstream he saw Freya knee deep in the water, a butterfly dancing on her hand.

Something overcame him and he pulled off his boots and socks, rolling up his pants as he stepped out into the water and sat on the swing, silently watching as she charmed nature beyond a simple human’s comprehension, having control of the elements like a forest nymph. August had seen a lot of unusual things in the time he’d lived in Blackwater Lake, he knew those that had something a little special about them gravitated towards the sleepy little mountain town, so as he watched Freya make her way upstream towards him he realised there was magic in the air. Small water spouts rose from the water as she took each step, as if chasing after her touch as she stepped from rock to rock submerged under the water. 

As she approached the shallow bend in the creek she finally looked up and saw August, a smile spreading over her lips;

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Its so pretty here, isn’t it?” she asked wistfully

“Beautiful from where i’m sitting”

She approached where he sat, stopped at arms reach, a hint of blush warming her cheeks;

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate last night… thank you for taking care of me, i’m not a big drinker”

“You weren’t inappropriate…” he reassured her; “But it's been a while since a beautiful woman called me Daddy… since before… since before i was broken...”

Her gaze moved to the scar on the side of his face, and without a word she stepped forward and pressed her hand to the spidery scarring. In that moment August felt the magic in her touch, prickling at his skin before she nimbly climbed onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist and she lowered her lips to his, softly brushing against his as she spoke;

“You’re not broken, no more than I am…”

The kiss was soft and slow, and as her tongue started to gently tease at the seam of his lips she eased her weight completely onto his lap, her core pressing to his, the heat of their growing lust growing like an ember between them. 

Her small tongue licked into his mouth, tasting him as she pressed her body flush to his chest, small whimpers coming from her as his hands splayed over her back and pulled her firmly down onto his growing arousal. When the need for oxygen finally took precedence August’s lips traced a path of kisses down her jaw and neck, her fingers winding through his dark curls as her head fell back to give him better access to the pale expanse of her collarbone;

“Oh Daddy…”

“That’s it my little one, i’m going to treat you so well, my little Kitten…” August’s mustache brushed against her heated skin as he spoke, the gentle sway of the swing letting their bodies move against each other.

Just at that moment an ominous creak sounded above them, drawing their attention up into the tree’s canopy, just in time to see the rope that held the swing up snap, plunging them down into the shallow creekwater below.

With shouts and screams the moment of passion was lost, taken over by the shock of the water hitting their heated skin. August helped Freya up, her dress plastered to her skin in much the same way his shirt was, soaked head to toe he shook the water from his hair;

“Home?”

“Yes Daddy” Freya purred, pulling into his touch as he wrapped an arm around her to help her out of the water.

-

Pushing in the door to his apartment, clothes were being pulled from each other's bodies even as the door was still ajar. As he pulled his shirt off, Freya’s hands were curling into the hair on his chest, an almost feral growl bubbling from her lips as she ran her hands down to his stomach and rested on the buckle of his belt. Catching her hands in his he held them gently, only speaking when she looked up and met his gaze;

“Kitten, I want to be sure you want this… You’re in total control here, you set the boundaries, you say when you need to stop. But if you do want this, i’ll be your Daddy and take care of you like a Princess”

Freya voice shook as she spoke;

“I want this… my last… he wanted to be my Daddy but didn’t treat me right. He took more than I could give…”

August lifted her small hands to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with such great care and tenderness her heart almost melted before she finally spoke again;

“We should really check for leeches”

“WHAT?!”

Freya had never seen anyone strip their clothing off quite as fast as August just had. For a big man - and a pretty tough one at that - the mere thought of little blood suckers had him stripping completely naked in a matter of seconds, Freya pulling her dress off a little slower until she stood in just her simple underwear. August was still patting himself down, turning to look at his behind;

“Am I ok?”

Freya couldn’t help herself, stepping forwards and taking two handfuls of August’s pert asscheeks, giving them a squeeze before running her palms over the perfectly rounded globes of his buttocks;

“More than ok”

In the following moments August carried her to his small bathroom, turning the shower on before he stepped under the warm jets of water, pulling her with him so he could soap her down. The scent of sandalwood of his soap as he carefully washed every inch of her body was overwhelming, taking care of her to wash any last traces of creek water from her body. He paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, waiting for her agreement which she quickly nodded for him to continue, his large hand sliding between her legs and caressing her lips. His skilled fingers soon sought out her pearl, teasing it gently from its hood before he slid a finger into her waiting heat, a cry falling from her lips which he quickly swallowed with a kiss. His work calloused hands quickly drove her to an orgasm - a first of many - and as she came she called his name, like a prayer on her lips. 

Shutting the water off, August carefully lifted her out of the bath, wrapping a large towel around her before scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed. On the messy covers her hair clung to her skin, before he carefully lifted the long tendrils from her chest and was able to take in the sight of her petite naked body laying fresh and prone on his bed. Her hand reached out for him, pulling him close;

“Daddy, I want to feel you…”

August smiled;

“Will you be a good girl for me Kitten? Do you think you can take me? You’re awfully small, and I'm pretty big…”

She sat up, pressing a hand to his chest;

“Can I try? Can I go on top?”

Nodding August lay on the bed, propped up against the pillows, lifting her petite frame on top of him. He watched with pleasure as she wriggled down the bed, her hands gripping his thighs as she settled between his legs. Wrapping her small hands around his generous length she looked up at him as she started to give small licks to his hot flesh, her fingers struggling to encircle his meaty girth. Opening her mouth she took a good three inches between her lips straight away, a litany of curses falling from August’s lips as he felt the hot wet heat of her mouth engulf him. It was better than he could ever had imagined, and he had to grip at the bedsheets to stop himself from cumming at that very moment. Steadying his breathing he let out a low sigh before he reluctantly pulled her off, a trail of spittle hanging between his dick and her mouth;

“But Daddy, I want to taste your cum…”

“I know Kitten, but it's going to be a lot the first time, and I want to see your cunt dripping with me, knowing your tight little pussy is going to overflow with the amount I'm going to pump into you. Now be a good girl and see what you can do, let's make it fit…”

Straddling his thick thighs she positioned herself over his hard shaft, her hand holding him steady as she swiped him through her folds to douse his gnarled girth with her juices, before settling with the tip at her entrance. August ran his hands up and down her arms, comforting her and hoping to get her to relax. He was a patient man but the feel of her soaked flesh pressing against his crown was becoming a struggle not to grab her hips and pull her down until he was balls deep in one swift thrust.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Freya slowly lowered herself onto August’s shaft, going at a pace she could cope with, but the strain of holding back caused perspiration to bead on August’s forehead;

“Doing so well Kitten… I know its a lot, but you can do it… you’re so fucking tight…. Fuck…”

Taking a deep breath Freya finally let herself fall the rest of the way, feeling him part her silken walls until she was settled on his lap. Tears fell from her eyes, tiny diamonds adorning her cheeks at the overwhelming sense of fullness she was experiencing. Seeing these August kissed them away, his praises made her swell with pride as he admitted to her he was struggling not to cum from just the feeling of her tight walls engulfing him. He pushed a hand between their bodies, resting his palm on her stomach;

“Put your hand here… you’re so tiny I can feel myself deep inside you, your little tummy blown out with my dick…”

His thumb crept down and grazed at her pearl, making her cry out before yearning for more. With his ministrations she was soon relaxed enough to start to ride him, her nimble thighs bouncing on his meaty counterparts, feeling the slick push and pull as he filled her whilst she drove them towards their peak. 

Unsurprisingly Freya came first, the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her body was all too much to hold back, and she came with a silent scream, her body gripping August so tight it set him off, pushing in so deep he was sure his dick had kissed her cervix, before flooding her with endless ropes of his thick seed, soothing her inner core with his milky gift. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her to his chest, holding her tight as the floods of emotions surged through her, stroking her back tenderly.

Eventually he carefully lifted her onto the bed, peppering her bare skin with bristly kisses, before parting her thighs and leaning back to admire his handiwork, a thick sheen of white covering her swollen petals. With a single finger he carefully swiped through his mess, before holding it to her mouth;

“Taste Kitten… taste our passion…”

Holding onto his wrist she sucked the digit into her mouth, her tongue tasting their combined essence. When his finger finally dropped from her lips his gaze fell down and hers followed, her eyes going wide when she saw he was hard and ready for more. Laying back she hooked her hands behind her knees and spread herself open for him;

“Daddy, will you fill me up again, please?”

Positioning himself at her cum soaked hole August smiled, a dark hint of lust glinting in his eyes;

“It would be my pleasure Kitten”

-

Three weeks later

Freya chewed nervously on her lip, having circled the isles of the drug store too many times to count now, waiting for a time when there was no-one near what she needed. Finally it was the right moment and she slunk into the isle, grabbing the thin rectangular box before stepping back and bumping into someone, her item tumbling to the floor as a third set of feet appeared;

“Freya! Mrs Syverson! Good Morning!”

It was Sue from the coffee shop, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere just as Mrs Syverson had backed away from the opposite shelf to keep little baby Luna from grabbing the glass bottles of antacid medicine. Mrs Syverson immediately clocked what Freya had been holding;

“Oh Freya, could you just reach those things for me? I can’t reach down with Luna here…”

With shaking hands Freya handed the bag of cotton wool balls and the pregnancy test to the woman only a couple of years her senior, who in turn smiled at Sue as she laughed;

“Sy’s always keeping me on my toes… in more ways than one” She winked before tugging on Freya’s arm; “Sweetie, I need to place an order for a big cookout we have coming up for Sy’s birthday…”

Steering her away from town gossip Sue, Mrs Syverson lowered her voice;

“I’ll meet you outside sweetie, don’t worry about it, i saw you circling the shop”

A few minutes later Mrs Syverson appeared at the door, two drugstore bags in her hand before handing one to Freya;

“My advice, tell August now, do the test together”

“Are you sure? Do you think he’ll be angry?”

“Angry? Hell no, i think it’ll be what he wants, and no matter what the result he’s always had puppy dog eyes for you, we could all tell from the moment you walked into his life”

Peering into the bag Freya saw there was also a bag of Hershey’s kisses;

“You’ll need the sugar, to calm your nerves afterwards”

“Thanks Mrs S… i appreciate it”

“No problem Freya… and i’ll see you tomorrow, i really do need to place that order, but get today over and done with first”

That afternoon Freya and August took the test, then feasted on kisses of every kind.

[mozak-hh]

Genshin impact headcanon:

How they find out they’re in love with you

I was just listening to, “love songs,” by Kaash Paige and I got really imspired to do a cute little headcanon. I would recommend listening to the song while reading this cus it is a major vibe ;)

Pairings: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, albedo

Songs to vibe to for the headcanon lol

Zhongli:

Zhongli’s not used to feeling puppy love, those feeling are beneath gods. Especially after all of his years alive, he thought love was something that had run its course. In his earlier centuries, perhaps, but never now.

After meeting you for the first time, he grow fond very quickly of your childish remarks and youthful attitude. It refreshes him to know that not everyone is made of stone. And after your first encounter he goes out of his way to bump into you more and more often.

This usually disrupts your tasks with Childe, so he is the first one who catches on to Zhongli’s little interest in you. Childe will often bicker with Zhongli about it, but instead of snapping back Zhongli will just act oblivious about it.

Zhongli isn’t the type to think extremely deeply about things, so I don’t think he’ll have trouble accepting his feeling about you. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be surprised, and it might take him a while to really figure it out.

He goes back to the place you first had lunch with him and steals collects the cup from where you sat, holding the fragile price of antique in his hand and turning it slightly, inspecting it. He then circles the brim with his thumb, sighing and putting in his pocket. He then puts it on the shelve in his office. Looking at it time to time.

Further on into your friendship with him. Zhongli finds himself idolising your form and appearance. Caressing you hair when you hug him, lifting the stands to his face for a closer look, you’ll never know that though.

He’ll offer his arm to you when you walk around the harbour with him. Letting you wrap you hand around it while talking about your latest discoveries in Liyue. Rest your head on his shoulder and you may hear him suck in a breath. Trying to compose himself. It’s not everyday gods get attached to humans. So when it does happen, you can expect them to be way more possessive than the average significant other.

Albedo:

this man is quite awkward with his feelings ok? he could write a 30 page essay on the essence of human life but not one sentence could describe the way he thrives when your around him. 

he would see you walk past the alchemy shop everyday, smiling and talking to the shopkeeper. Before he met you he wouldn’t think to much about it, but after the events in Dragonspine, he grows fond of staring at you outside the shop window, leaving his notebooks and research to sit idly and gaze. On some occasions he may even draw you, search through his notepad the next time the two of you meet and you might find out how many pages exactly he has of you. 

the first ones to catch on to his little antics is his apprentices, Sucrose mainly. Though she wont pry too much, as Albedo would often call her ridiculous for thinking such things, she’ll giggle every time she sees Albedo at the window. Knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

One day, while you are staying in Diluc’s tavern, Albedo goes wondering around the stalls in Mondstadt, buying flowers from the little girl near the gates. using his magic he evolves them into luscious blooms of colour, and begins his trek to the tavern. It is only once he reaches your room door does he realise what he’s actually doing. This is when it hits him. That perhaps you are worth more to him than his hunger for knowledge. He lets the flowers drop to floor. So many months of drawing your figure and longing for the taste of your touch and now he’s too scared to even knock on your door? he slouches and walks back to where he came from. Not bothering to pick up those beautiful flowers left behind. It is when you finally open your door to get fresh air do you almost step on them. Noticing their other-worldly hue, you knew only one man would have the kind of abilities to make these.    

A week goes by, and you and Albedo are up in Dragonspine once again to do research on more artefacts he collected. He treads lightly in the snow, gazing at the way your eyes light up as you talk. he then flinches slightly when he feels your warm hand reach for his own, and you look up at him with a smirk. “The flowers where so beautiful, it’s a shame you didn't bring them to me yourself,” you then lightly kiss his cheek and walk off, leaving him a blushing mess in the cold.  

Diluc:

Diluc is known to have little to no interest in women. Much to people’s dismay, this man has no intention of marrying a women so they can steal his money. That is until he met you, of course. 

With him money has no limits, so expect to receive many gifts during your nights out with him, or seeing him after he’s been away on business. Whether that be an embroidered lace from fancy stores, or a jade necklace all the way from Liyue, Diluc will show you a world of luxury. 

Diluc will always place you beside him at dinner parties or fancy ball. Since he’s been surrounded by vicious women his entire life, it calms him to know you’re right beside him. 

there is always a room in the tavern for you, whether you need it or not. The bartenders on duty always know you are allowed to stay after hours, and the drinks always come free of charge. 

After a month or two of receiving these perks, you grow tired of seeing so much of Diluc’s purchases, but never enough of the real him. So you seek him out at his winery. 

you have no luck finding him however, so you opt for waiting in his office until he eventually shows up. While you wait, you notice a large stack of letters, all of which have your name on it. 

Elegant, handwritten love letters. Each and every one of them. Telling you how beautiful you are, and how your smile is always on his mind. In fact, everything about you is edged into his memory, all these gifts you receive having some sort of connection to reminding him of you. The fact that when you wore the dress he bought you last week, it took him days to shake the heat from his body, the longing to touch you. 

After an hour or so of reading these letters, your face is completely red. And as soon as you begin to calm down, the red haired gentleman strides thought the door with a fat stack of papers he needs to sign. You jump from your seat, letters falling out of your lap and down to the floor as you do so. He takes one look at the papers surrounding you, and immediately know what they are. Perhaps if he had been brave enough to send these to you, he may of not been this embarrassed. 

“As much as I am glad that you finally understand my emotions surrounding you, I would have been more keen to have spoke them to you in person. But that can wait for now. How about you join me for dinner?”

Kaeya: 

This lover boy is actually very helpless when it comes to real love. After exposing himself to the elements of your personality, he falls head over heals for you. Possible one of the toughest men to come to term with their feeling to be honest. His flirty and obnoxious behaviour deceiving him in the end. 

Kaeya would prefer to see you in the morning. Having coffee before work with you is his personal favourite. It is these genuine outings that he loves most. Unlike the occasional nights of pleasure he has had beforehand. With you, he feels his heart is more precious to you, not his body. As many women would eventually go with a one night stand with the lesser brother of a rich man, than to have conversations with him over a cup of coffee. 

On a more positive note, Kaeya will start to recruit you for more and more missions just to enjoy your company. It wont be long till people start to assume you are his personal assistant for the knights. Seeing you accompany him on everyone of his outings. This is where you start to use his office.

The both of you slowly start to share the same working space after a few weeks of being on his team. Memories in his office are some of his fondest when it come to you. staying in and having dinner with him after a long day at work. Sharing stories with him during those mountains of paperwork. Joking with him during work breaks. More importantly, comforting him after heavy battles. 

When Kaeya starts to act more like a puppy around you, it is Diluc that teases him bout being a fool in love, and this is what causes Kaeya to finally understand it. Like a break in the ice. All of these months devoting his time to you, never to act on his feelings because on uncertainty. But know he knows he has you, and unlike many of these other women, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

Kaeya sits impatiently at the local café, tapping his finger on the table as he glows a light shade of pink. Once he’s sees you coming towards his table, his blush sharpens as he stumbles to grab the flowers he bought you beforehand.  

aaaand there! Another genshin headcanon, sorry such the long wait. I’ve been pretty busy at work :p comment if you have any suggestions x

[shirophantomvox]

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

[hawksky]

You wake up on your ex's fire escape; wc 2.5k

A/N: I don't really know how to categorize this ? starts as funny, gets into angst with a happy/hopeful ending. I might write this again for another character and make it 0 angst but using Megumi just let this get away from me. Thank you @sixeyesgojo for reading through my first draft, it helped me edit a lot since 😘. Although I have not looked over the ending since I wrote it, I'm done working on this fic so sorry if it falls flat.

CW: Mentions of excessive alcohol consumption.

Suggested listening: song 1 and song 2 you can pick just one to cater your experience (they are VERY different vibes) or switch over around the shampoo situation.

Objectively, there were good ways to wake up. In the arms of a beautiful person, with cold sheets and a warm body, or with the scent of your favourite breakfast wafting through the air. No disrespect to mornings at all, there were good ways to wake up, you were mature enough to recognize this.

A perplexingly rough, wet, and warm sensation gliding across your cheek, while last night’s jeans dug into your waist, and there was a pounding in your head? It was fairly safe to say this was not a good way to wake up.

It spoke volumes for how out of it you were that it was only just beginning to register in your brain that you weren’t at home, you were not even on a bed, and that the continued licks across your face were the work of animal far too large to be one of your friends cats.

“Fucking hell you’re supposed to be intimidating” you hear a voice grumble without much heat behind it.

As you forced your eyes open you are met with an excited dog tapping its paws in excitement of your presence, and the man behind the half hearted grumble. His gaze was unmistakably familiar, but his expression could not be more foreign to you.

“uhm, Hi” you croaked out while plastering a wide grin in hopes he wouldn’t murder you.

His eyebrow raised on instinct in response. You knew he was waiting for you to explain what you were doing, but the reality was you didn’t have an answer.

“I wish I could explain, but honestly I’m not sure what happened – last thing I remember was being bought another shot… Wait, where am I exactly?” You were desperately hoping you came off as charming instead of pathetic given the circumstances.

“How out of it are you?” he scrunched his face in confusion as he muttered to himself. “You’re on my fire escape, it’s in Ikebukuro? Tokyo… Japan, in case you needed the reminder”

It felt infantilizing to have him scold you like this, which only made this next part all the more difficult. You were not supposed to be Ikebukuro. You were not supposed to be in Tokyo. You were supposed to be in Yokohama. What was even more concerning is that you were definitely not supposed to be on your old fire escape, the one connected to the apartment your ex still lived in.

As you painstakingly pushed yourself upright, a warm weight laid on your upper thigh, a furry face nuzzling into your stomach – you wondered if she was aware of tension between you and her owner. You scratched behind her ears, letting Jade know she was in fact a good girl despite the earlier reprimand from her owner.

As much as you’d love to spend the day sitting on a fire escape petting your ex’s dog, you had to go home, you just need to call –

Your phone. Where was your phone? You felt around frantically for your phone, only to come up with nothing. A light sense of panic bubbles in the pit of your stomach, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“it’s already charging, I plugged it in last night, you dropped in inches away from falling down”

So, he was still watching you despite having returned inside long ago. It was difficult for you to parse this sort of gesture, how caring could it be to plug someone’s phone in when you still left them to sleep outside? Maybe he was just doing everything he could to get rid of you. It was too much to try and analyze for someone who blacked out and woke up in a different city.

“Why did you come here?” you hear him bite out from inside. It sounds harsh, but it feels like his stange way of inviting you inside.

“I don’t know what you’ve picked up from these circumstances, but not knowing is kind of a part of the problem. Believe me, there’s no amount of conscious desperation that would leaf me to sleeping on a fire escape, even yours”

You glanced around the apartment to avoid his void expression; it was spotless. But it was even harder noticing, the turned over picture frames, your favourite quilt still on the back of the couch – remnants of the past living in the present.

This tension only increased as a mug of freshly brewed green tea was placed in front of you. How thoughtful to remember you hated coffee, to realize your throat was probably killing you – you would have tasted a creeping bitterness from all these emotions, if it wasn’t overpowered by what was the distinct taste of your favourite brand that had to be special ordered.

He had always complained, there were plenty of good options for tea at the grocery store, why wasn’t that enough for you? It was so much extra effort to special order from a tea shop across town, the only place that you were able to charm the owner into ordering for you.

“How are you still so fucking awful at taking care of yourself?” he spat the words out like an insult, it was jarring honestly. Despite the time away from each other, it was no less strange to feel his detachment.

He moved towards the door beckoning Jade to follow. “There’s a towel and change of clothes in the bathroom, you should probably take a shower. If I’m not back by the time you leave, just lock up before you go, I haven’t moved the spare key.” Without looking back or waiting for a response he left.

You were starting to recognize your growing frustration – you had known him how long? Dated and lived together for a not-insignificant amount of time? Yet here you were, no idea how to interpret this strange morning, much less his last comment. Did he want you to be here when he returned? Were you supposed to leave and act like you had never been there? Could he genuinely be as indifferent as he wanted you to believe? It pissed you that your feelings were probably plain on your face.

You searched for your phone, finding it on what used to be your side of the couch. It felt ridiculous to think you ever had a side of the couch, but you were both creatures of habit and slowly without even thinking you both made your own little sanctuary mere metres away from each other.

You awoke your phone, expecting a flood of texts and phone calls from your friends, only to find nothing. Not a single check in from anyone. You open the group chat and furiously tap out a message.

<Hey assholes who let me go home on my own last night? Anyways good job I blacked out and I’m on Fushiguro’s fire escape! You are all absolutely useless to me I swear to god.>

Your phone vibrates rapidly as you place it down but you’re not in the mood to field their questions.

You’re tempted to leave now, just to get it over with, go home and crawl into bed and forget any of this ever happened. But, you felt gross, it was late enough in the morning that you could run into someone you knew, and you missed the water pressure here.

As you got ready for your shower you surveyed your options. You refused to smell like him, but the only other bottle in the shower was doggy shampoo. Surely dog’s fur and human hair weren’t so different right? Jade did have a beautiful coat, very soft and shiny… You reprimanded yourself for the ridiculous idea, but the point remained, there had to be something else for you to use.

Your brain, far more alert than it was 30 minutes ago, thought of all the things he hadn’t changed, all the fixtures still in place. You had always kept an extra set of all your supplies under the sink. By the grace of all that is good on this cruel cruel earth, they were there, in all their dusty glory, your prized hygiene products sat unmoved under the sink. It would have been sick and twisted to have to leave your ex-boyfriend’s apartment smelling exactly like him, left to spend the rest of the day agonizing over whether you should take another shower.

As you entered the shower you wondered more. He had to have noticed the softness in your eyes, the faint smile you wore just having an ounce of his attention again, the way ti widened at every caring gesture, and falling with every biting remark.

Yes, it hurt every day missing him. Yes, it would hurt if he hated you. But none of that compared to the feeling of not knowing. What were you supposed to do with all these residual feelings that have yet to go away? Were they worth the suffocation or should you strip them away?

You were proud of yourself, all these reminders of what you once had, in a place you once loved, and you had yet to break down, not even shedding a tear. If you weren’t wrapping yourself in a towel, you would’ve given yourself a pat on the back. This victory was short lived, everyone’s strength has its limits and you had taken yours too far past it already. But then you saw it, something you were completely unprepared for.

Laid neatly on top the closed laundry basket was THE outfit. It was nothing special to anyone else, just a grey sweater and loose joggers, but how many days had you spent alone breathing in his scent for comfort while he was gone? How many hard days at work had you reaching for these exact pieces as if they were the cure to all your problems?

Unable to support your own weight anymore, you fell to the tiled floor, tears spilling out, as your already sore throat grew even more hoarse – you felt like everything was collapsing around you. You weren’t expecting to see him, and you certainly weren’t expecting to need him in so many little ways. It was easy to forget how easily he weaves himself into your life, encroaching on everything you do.

The world disappeared behind each shallow breath, and an endless stream of tears you couldn’t control. Your fingers scratch against your forearms repeatedly, trying to ground yourself in some reality you could no longer grasp. It is so exhausting trying to be over him, going through these cycles of strong emotions, over and over and over again.

Suddenly, for the second time in as few hours, you felt an overwhelming weight encompass your body.

Of course, his stupid fucking perfect dog would still know how to bring you out of a panic attack like he had spent so much time training when you started dating. You clutched to Jade as your breathing slowed, but it did nothing to stop your sobs, if anything it was just another painful reminder of everything you let go.

“Uhhh….” Megumi was frozen at the door, for the first time today he didn’t know what to do. His indifferent façade dropped as he observed the scene on his bathroom floor.

There’s nothing left to lose, not for a moment that he has seen this morning have you possessed more than an ounce of dignity, “So that’s it? You don’t know what to do either? You know it’s been a whole fucking year and I still haven’t figured out how to live without you. A whole year and I’m still a mess. I can’t survive being reminded of us, look at me. And yet every attempt to get over you was a knife twisting because they’ll never be you. Now I’m here and I get to witness the wonderful Megumi Fushiguro, unaffected, and you… you have it all together.” You trail off, giving to him everything left in you.

You weren’t expecting the confused and indignant expression on his face, “You think this is having it together?” His voice lightly raising with each word “This place might as well be a sealed shrine to you and our relationship. I haven’t thrown a single thing out, moved any furniture, bought anything new – the only thing that’s ‘new’ is your stupid tea I keep buying even though I hate it, and for fucks sake y/n I should’ve moved out. Every part of me that looks like I have it together is just my version of a mess.” He brushes a stray strand out of your face, his own face moving far too close for this to be purely platonic anymore “y/n I’m no better off than you are, I’ve just kept everyone from looking”.

“So what are we supposed to do with all this?” Your eyes shining, naïve hope seeping through your defenses at the confirmation that he couldn’t live without you either.

“We could try again” Somehow, it wasn’t quite what you needed to hear. “I, am going to get dressed, and then we’ll talk, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He nodded lightly, pulling himself up and exiting with Jade on his heels.

Dressed in the clothes you thought would burn your skin to even touch let alone wear, you let out a long sigh as you sit on at the breakfast nook. “Look, Megumi, I need to know if you’ve worked through it, any of it? I can’t, I can’t wait another three years for you to tell me you can’t say the words I love you, that you can’t commit to more than a yearly rental, I can’t just have you here I need more security than that”

He pursed his lips, unsure of what he could say to that, how he could make sure you didn’t leave again.

“Megumi, I don’t need you to say it to me today, I don’t need you to commit to anything today, but I have to know you’ve tried that I can’t keep waiting for you”

“I… Just give me a minute, please” his voice weak pleading with you. You waited, knowing better than to rush him, laying a hand on top of his assuring him you weren’t going to run out the door.

“y/n, I’m supposed to be honest and vulnerable, I’m supposed to tell myself that people won’t abandon me just because I give them access to who I really am. I want to tell you I love you, because there’s no other explanation for feeling this way. For feeling like your eyes outshine the stars, that your mind is more brilliant than the sun. I’ve tortured myself for a year with the idea of you meeting someone who could give you everything I couldn’t, and selfishly I prayed they were awful, I wished you were miserable so I pretend the truth wasn’t real that I was not enough for you, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. I’ve never seen a loving relationship, certainly not for long enough to form memories, but I look at you and I can’t imagine anything else”

Your thumb reaches to brush away the stray tear sliding down his face as he spoke to you. Manoeuvring yourself around to be on the same side of the nook as him, you pull him into you, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck. You placed a gentle kiss into his hair before whispered into his ear “You were always enough, I just needed you to know it too.”

not not a tag list: @satosuguslut @sandyscastle

[adminbryantsaki]

Tick Tock

(Hello there, I’m back with the Bnharem’s collab. This month is a Soulmate’s AU. I picked Aizawa. And decided to throw Hizashi at him then throw them into a closet to see what the results are. I hope you enjoy what I put together for you all. I don’t own Shouta Aizawa/ Eraserhead or Hizashi Yamada/ Present Mic. Horikoshi Kohei does. Here is where you can read all the other stories and art done for this collab. And here is my own master list. The banner was made by @nocturnalazura. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee, move on.)

Tw: ABO, mentioning of a heat/rut cycle, mentioning of male pregnancy, slightly abusive household.

Wc: 3,683

Aizawa stared at the timer on his forearm. It read about a week left before he would meet his soulmate. He had the entrance exam to U.A in a week. Would he meet his soulmate then? He didn’t know and at the moment he didn’t really care. He heard his dad call him to come down for breakfast before he sent him off to go training. He didn’t want to go training. He wanted to lay in bed and not have anything to do and not have to go anywhere.

“Shouta! Time for breakfast!” His dad called from the base of the stairs. He groaned and slid out of his bed and stumbled into the bathroom to get changed and help his brain wake up a bit before he had to face his father. He looked at the little bright green and red moon on the underside of his left wrist. He was glad that it was still there. He noticed some music notes appear on his arm like on a music sheet. He was a little confused by it but waved it off as something his soulmate doing. He finished getting dressed and pulled on a hoodie to hide the writing on his arm. He walked downstairs where his family was sitting having breakfast.

“Good morning, Shouta. Did you sleep well?” His mom asked as he sat down at the table. “I slept fine.” He spoke as he served himself some eggs and miso soup. He ate in silence before his father lowered his newspaper and addressed him. “Son, did you see that other boy in your dreams again?” He asked with a hint of venom in his voice that his son’s soulmate was another male. Shouta remained silent and looked at the moon tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

“Well? Did you or not? Answer when you’re spoken to, Shouta.” His father said harshly.

“Yes, I saw him again. I see him every night, dad. You need to get used to the fact that my soulmate is another guy!” Shouta retorted.

“Finish your food and get to training. You have to be ready for your entrance exam into U.A.” His father spoke. Shouta remained silent and ate his breakfast. He finished quickly and put his dishes into the sink before he went downstairs and began to warm up. He focused on the days counting down to when he would meet his soulmate and he could get to be free from his family.

§§§§§

Across town, Hizashi was walking down the street to a café that he liked to spend his time after school. He would mostly do his studying there or write out a script for a potential talk show he wanted to have one day. He also likes to draw so he would take his sketchbook and doodle as he thought of ideas for the talk show. He was waiting for his drink since the café’s policy was that you needed to buy something off of their menu to be able to hang out there. Hizashi didn’t have the best relationship with his parents and he seemed like a quiet kid. This was all because of his quirk. His quirk was connected to his voice, and he had a hard time controlling it. He came out of the womb with his quirk in effect. His parents were wary of him growing up and being frustrated or angry. That’s when his voice would get out of control and people within range of him would get injured. He hated hurting people that he cared about so unless he was in his room or their basement that his parents had soundproofed, he remained quiet and hardly spoke in case his quirk activated. He doodled music notes on his arm, not knowing that his soulmate was seeing them. A waitress came over with his drink and he silently thanked them and covered the mark on his neck as he received his drink. The mark that he covered was the Greek letter Alpha. He didn’t want anyone to think that he or his soulmate was an Alpha. He took a sip of his drink and pulled his sketchbook out along with his pencil. He closed his eyes and began to draw.

§§§§§

After Shouta warmed up, he decided to go on a run. This helped him think and clear his mind after his dad upset him.

When his tattoo appeared on his wrist when he was about 10, he was confused and showed his parents. They told him that the moon meant his partner would be a Luna. He was lucky that his soulmate was a Luna as they were rare in the world. His father was just as confused as he was and asked what a Luna was as he had never heard of one. His father took him to a doctor to have it explained. The doctor explained that a Luna was like an Alpha but they were able to conceive and have a litter like some Betas and Omegas did. His dad let out a sigh of relief that day that his son would be able to produce an heir. What if he didn’t want kids? What would happen then? Shouta tried to shake the thoughts out of his mind as he ran around the block again before he went inside. He grabbed his wallet and left the house saying that he would be back by dinner. He walked to his favorite park where several cats he knew hung out there. He went to the swing set and sat lazily on one of the swings before an orange tabby cat came up to him and brushed up against his leg. He reached down and petted its head and smiled. “You’re lucky to be free and not be tied down by a stupid quirk and a greedy father.” He spoke. The cat meowed and sat down. He slid down from the swing and scratched the cat’s head which he got meows of approval. He stayed there with the cat for a little while before he got hungry. He went to the sandwich shop down the road that he had gone to before, unaware of the cat now following him. He entered the shop and noticed the cat trying to sneak in. He knelt down and addressed the cat. “You have to wait out here, baby. I’ll bring something out for you.” He told the cat. They stayed and he went inside. He came back out a few minutes later with a fish sandwich that he shared with the cat. He then walked around town just to kill time before it grew dark. That’s when he began to head home. He walked through the front door and went up to his room just before his mom called him down to wash up. He washed his hands then helped set the table and helped his mom bring food to the table before he sat down. His dad was either down in the den or at work. He hardly was around, and when he was, he would say something rude to either him or his mom. He thanked his mom for working so hard and served himself some of the food. He ate in silence before his mom spoke to him. “How was your day out, Shouta?” She asked as they ate. “It was good. I met a new cat in the park. They followed me to the sandwich shop and I fed them part of tuna sandwich before I just walked around town.” He said in a neutral tone before he took a drink of tea.

“That sounds like an eventful day.” She responded. Shouta nodded and finished his food. He put his plate in the sink before he went up to his room. He grabbed a washable marker and wrote something on his arm to his soulmate. “Hey. How was your day today?” He wrote. On Hizashi’s end, the words appeared on his forearm and he frantically looked around his general area to find some kind of pen or marker to respond. He found a marker and wrote back. “It was fine. Spent some time at a Café drawing. How was yours?” He responded. “My dad still doesn’t like that you’re a guy and that we see each other in our dreams every night.” “Don’t listen to him. We can be happy together when we meet. How long does your timer say?”

Aizawa pushed his sleeve up to see the timer now saying six days. “Six days and change. So, we meet sometime in the next week. I have the entrance exam to U.A. what about you?”

“I’m applying to go there too! I hope we both get in.”

“Me too. I’m going to try and get some sleep. I’ll see you in my dreams.”

“Ok. Sleep well, Shouta. I’ll be there soon.”

He smiled and got changed for bed. He then slid under his covers and closed his eyes. He went to the dreamscape where he typically saw Hizashi. He went about laying in a field of flowers where he would stay until Hizashi joined him. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was filled was with stars. He gazed at them for what felt like hours until he felt someone slide next to him. He looked over and saw Hizashi laying next to him. He smiled softly and held his hand.

“I missed you,” Aizawa spoke quietly. “I missed you too,” Hizashi responded. “Can we just lay here quietly?” He asked. The blonde nodded and he propped himself up on his elbow and ran his fingers through Aizawa’s hair. Shouta hummed and leaned into his touch. Hizashi rubbed circles on the base of his soulmate’s skull which earned him a satisfied groan. He stopped and pulled away as he was afraid that he had hurt him even in their dream realm. Shouta looked up at him confused. “Why’d you stop?” He asked. “I thought I hurt you.” “You didn’t, it felt good. Keep going, please.” Shouta told him. Hizashi sat up and crossed his legs in a sitting position. Shouta shifted so his head rested in his partner’s lap. Hizashi massaged his head until he dozed off and woke back up thanks to his alarm going off. He groaned and held his head. Waking up from the dreamscape like that usually left him in a bad mood and he had a headache. He looked at his phone and saw that it was Saturday. He could sleep in today. He slid back under the covers and went back to the dreamscape. He was lucky to find Hizashi still there looking a little bummed out. “Sorry about that, my alarm went off. I can sleep in today. That means we have more time together.” Shouta said with a soft smile. His partner grinned and hugged him. They laid out on the grass and relaxed. “When we meet in real life, can you do the head massaging thing on me?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to meet you.” He told him and ran his fingers through his soulmate’s hair. He hummed and eventually laid down next to him and held his hand.

“Goodnight, Shouta. I hope you have a good day.” He said before he closed his eyes. Shouta closed his eyes too and woke up to his alarm waking him up. He opened his eyes and pulled his blanket a little tighter before he got out of bed and packed a couple things before, he sneaked out his window and went down the street. He sat down on a bench while he waited for a bus. He pushed his sleeve up and grabbed a marker before he wrote something out on his arm. “I don’t think I can wait six days. I want to meet you now.”

“Aren’t we supposed to wait? What’s going on? Why do you want to rush your timer? Is it something with your dad again?”

“I’m tired of the routine. I want to meet you and spend time with you. It’s getting too hard to not be able to touch you and hold you close.” He wrote back and held his head in his hands. “I’d come to meet you but I have my last music class today. I’m sorry Shouta.” He wrote back. Shouta looked up as the bus pulled up. He got on and paid his fare. He didn’t care where he was going. He just wanted to be away from his parents and his house. He sat in the back of the bus and leaned back. He watched as a few more people boarded the bus and the bus began to drive off. He looked out the window and watched the buildings and landmarks go by. He rode on the bus for a couple of hours before he got off at the mall and spent the rest of the day there. He did catch the bus home knowing he would be scolded for leaving the house without a word. He snuck back into the house only to find his father sitting at the table.

“Shouta. Where have you been today?” He heard his father ask. “Out. I needed to get away from here.” He responded. “You could’ve at least checked in and told us you were alright. You had both me and your mother worried sick.” “I can understand why mom would be worried. But why you? Was it because I didn’t come down and have you give me some kind of training schedule that would take up my whole day? I just want to be a normal kid.” He spoke. “You aren’t normal, Shouta. You have a wonderful gift. Your mother and I want the best for you.” His father said. “Did you ever think that I want this? That I want to have to wear an eyepatch for weeks on end until I can control my quirk out of one eye? I’m tired of it! I want to have breaks! I want to be able to go out and have fun either on my own or be able to actually make friends, did you ever think of that? Do you even listen to my teachers when they’ve told you that I haven’t been able to make friends at school because they only want to be friends with me because of my quirk and that’s it!” He let out. “Go to your room.” His father said. “I plan to!” Shouta yelled before storming to his room and slamming the door shut. He changed into nightclothes and flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep and went into the dreamscape. He met again with Hizashi that night and he told him what had gone on between him and his dad earlier that evening. Hizashi listened and played with his soulmate’s hair as he talked.

“We have what? Five more days until we see each other? We can make it through this, Sho. Don’t worry. “Hizashi spoke and smiled. Shouta sighed and relaxed with his head in the blonde’s lap.

“I’ll do my best not to. I’m just glad we get to see each other every night… I have a question. If we weren’t soulmates... do you think we would be friends?” Shouta asked.

“Yeah! I think we would.” Hizashi responded and kissed his forehead. Shouta gave him a soft smile before drifting back to sleep.

§§§§§

The next five days went by quickly and soon it was the morning of the exam. Shouta grabbed his gym bag and ran downstairs to eat some breakfast before his mom would drop him off at the gate of U.A. He glanced down at his arm and the timer said about half an hour. He was excited and his dad could sense it. “What are you so excited about today?” He asked. “I’m excited for the exam dad,” Shouta responded as he ate his cereal.

“There’s something else. Are you going to meet your soulmate?” He asked. Shouta froze and looked up at him. “How did you know?” He asked. “I was the same way before I met your mother. Good luck on the exam son, I hope you make a good first encounter with your soulmate.” He spoke. Shouta thanked him and his mom drove him up to the gate. Shouta got out and checked his timer again. Only twenty more minutes before he would run into Hizashi. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he was both nervous and excited at the same time. He also had the feeling of wanting to puke his breakfast up. “Good luck, Honey. I’ll be back when the exam is over. Just text me and I’ll be here.” His mom said. He nodded and walked into the school. He was led to the gymnasium where they were given the introduction and rules to the exam. He swore he could feel his soulmate in the room. He pushed his sleeve back again and only fifteen minutes remained. He grabbed a pen and wrote something. “Where are you? I swear I can feel you in the room with me.”

“I don’t think I can see you. It's too dark in here. What training ground are you on?”

Shouta checked the little card he received when he was registered.

“I’m in B, what about you?”

“I’m in the same one. I guess we will see each other out there then?”

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

“Me too.”

The instructions were given out and all of the students were told to get changed into whatever they were going to wear for the exam. Shouta got changed into his workout clothes and a basic form of a kind of scarf he used in his training to capture villains. He practically ran to the fake city where his soulmate, himself, and a few hundred other hopeful students were hoping to get into this school. He arrived along with a few others and looked around the small group trying to spot the blonde hair of his soulmate. He checked his timer again and only five minutes remained. He groaned and watched as other kids like himself arrived. He watched his timer count down and reach the last thirty seconds before he squatted down and watched the numbers tick down to zero. Someone was standing over him and he knew that the person standing behind him was his soulmate. His eyes widened and he stood up. “Hizashi?”

“Hi, Shouta. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” He spoke.

Shouta slowly turned around and saw his face. He raised his hands shakily and cupped his face. He didn’t care if people were watching them. He let his bottled-up emotions pour out and hug his soulmate. “Hey, hey. I’m glad we could finally meet too. The exam is gonna start soon. “I know I just never thought I’d get to meet you, even if the timer ran out.” He told him. He pulled away and held Hizashi’s hands and looked into his eyes. He felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“You ready to go get into U.A.?” Shouta asked.

“You bet. Let’s do this!” Hizashi responded. §§§§§

After the exam was over, they were told that they would get letters in the mail in a few weeks as to if they got into the school or not. The pair were leaving the school when Shouta’s stomach growled. “Do you want to grab some lunch? I know a good place around here.” Hizashi suggested. “Sure. Let me text my mom.” Shouta responded as he pulled his phone out and told his mom that he was going to get some food with Hizashi and she responded wishing them to have a good time. They held hands going down the mountain and to a café where they got some food. They sat down in the café and talked for a bit. Shouta looked intensely at his soulmate. “Do you have a symbol somewhere on your body? I have a red and green crescent moon on my wrist. I’m guessing it means that you’re a Luna?” He asked.

“Yeah. I got a little ‘a’ on my neck. I was told that it means you’re an Alpha. I was told when I hit puberty and my dynamic manifested was that I’m a Luna. I don’t know if you looked it up or not but it’s a variant of an Alpha.” He explained. Shouta looked a little confused and leaned back. “So, you’re like me. But not?” “I have both a rut and a heat. So, in the future, I can have kids if we ever want any.” He spoke. Shouta blushed hard and hid his face. He then ate his food. Then they spent the rest of the day together. Shouta even got to spend the night at Hizashi’s place that night.

A few weeks later they both got their acceptance letters into U.A. The both of them celebrated by having a sleepover and then getting supplies that they would need in class. The day of them going to U.A. inched closer as they grew more in love. Shouta did spend one heat cycle with Hizashi before school started and he marked him. The mark appeared as a simple cat head.

They walked into school hand in hand. They were in for one hell of a life together.

The end.

[danielleslegacy]

For the Soul || Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

Request: yes / no

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Reid Request because you gained a follower with your recent story!!: Can you do one where Reid and the (non-BAU) reader have a flirtationship and he’s trying to hide being a genius/being FBI because she’s more “on track” with their age range and he doesn’t want to freak her out (idk how specific you take your requests lmao)  

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: it is just fluff that is all, its tooth-rotting, you’ve been warned.

Pairing: fem!Reader insert x Spencer Reid

All writing is my own, so please don’t steal this. Also, I would appreciate any feedback/comments/requests! xx

*GIF IS NOT MINE SO CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER*

“Amazing Coffee for the huge loser in the corner,” I shout out, a grin stretched across my face. The man stood, a magnetic smile on his face, and walked over to the counter.

“Is that any way to talk to a loyal customer, Y/n,” He says, taking the black coffee (with like 6 sugars) and bringing it to his lips. I lean down onto the counter in front of me, resting my chin on my hands.

I roll my eyes in response, “What are you gonna do? Report me to the manager?”

He smirks up at me, knowing good and well that I own the little coffee shop that we’re currently standing inside of. “That and all of the other patrons might take offence,” He gestures to the empty cafe.

A laugh erupts from my chest, “We’re only empty because it’s after hours, you’re the only one that drinks coffee at this time of day, Spence.”

“We get it, you’re successful,” Spencer says, a smile still playing on his lips, “And I’m not the only one that drinks coffee at night thank you.”

“Oh yeah?” I say teasingly, raising an eyebrow in question, “Tell me, who else is drinking coffee right now?”

“Well, statistically speaking,” He begins and it's almost as if he catches himself, and he stumbles for a moment, “With there being seven billion people alive right now, there is bound to be at least one other person drinking coffee.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he says breathily, stifling his laugh, he leans down onto the counter too so that our faces are level.

I rake my bottom lip between my teeth, his eyes watch the action intently, “I’ll have to take your word for it, pretty boy,” I say, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“I like to think you’re the pretty one,” He says smoothly, “Must be why I keep coming back to this god awful coffee.”

My mouth drops open with a gasp, “How… DARE.. you, Spencer!” I shout, taking the cup of coffee out of his hands, “You’re not allowed to have my amazing coffee anymore, I will ban you.”

He lets out a hearty chuckle that makes my heart squeeze with affection and takes the coffee out of my hands again, “I was joking, it’s my favourite coffee.”

“That’s much better,” I say a grin spreading across my face, “How was work?”

“Long,” He says, taking another sip, “I’m just glad to be home. I missed my bed.”

“And me,” I finish for him, giving him a wink.

He nods his head bashfully, “Yes and you.”

“Where did you go?” I ask rounding the bench and begin packing away the rest of the furniture for the night.

“Florida,” he says, grimacing.

“Oh gross,” I say with a laugh, “What was happening there?”

“Nothing really,” He says quickly, “How’s the shop been? Uneventful without me dropping in at,” He checks his watch, “Seven-thirty?”

“Same old, same old,” I say waving my hand, “Can you throw me the spray and wipe?” And he does, “We had one guy come in on Tuesday morning completely hammered, he could barely stand, I had to ask him to leave.”  

“You okay?” Spencer asks, walking over to hand me the tools and I begin to wipe down the tables.

“Yeah, but he was freaking out my employees, kept talking about the FBI and stuff,” I huff, “He must have been drinking at the Bar across from Quantico and walked down the street to try and have breakfast here. But I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from him and neither did the girls that were working so I asked him to leave.”

“What was he saying?” He asks, voice completely serious.

I wave my hand, “Just saying things like the FBI, only consisted of robots and people who wanted the world to burn. You know normal conspiracy theorist stuff.” I laugh. Spencer doesn’t. In fact, I can practically feel his discomfort radiating off him. I finish the table I'm on and turn around to face him, “What’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, he left pretty quickly, I wasn’t too worried. I think a couple of my regulars are agents so I wasn’t too worried that he would get violent,” I say, letting him know that it’s not something that was bothering me.

He nods his head and leans against the counter once more letting me finish my cleaning.

After finishing it all up, I throw the spray and wipe into the back room, and walk back out to Spencer. “What’s your plans for the night?”

“I’m about to head home,” Spencer says, finishing his coffee and handing the cup back over to me, “Why?”

“I was planning on a quiet night,” I say honestly, placing the cup into the sink for the morning crew to deal with, “But if you didn't have any plans, did you want to stay here a little longer? My apartment is upstairs.”

When I was looking at a place to start my business, I remember meeting the landlord, who loved me and offered to rent me the place above it for a decreased rate if I accompanied both places, and I was quick to jump on the offer. I knew how convenient it was to be so close to my workplace and it was in a prime part of town. And quite honestly I loved the place before I even stepped into the space. It was a fairly small apartment, pretty much entirely open plan except for the bathroom, and a small space that I had turned into my study. My bedroom, living area and kitchen were all connected, with no walls separating them. And I loved it that way.

“Yeah sure,” He says, following me around and up to my apartment.

“This is where the magic happens,” I say opening the door and gesturing for him to enter, “And by magic I mean the cooking and sleeping kind.”

Spencer lets out a hearty chuckle. He throws his eyes around my apartment, and they land on my coffee table, which is littered with books. “I didn’t know you were a reader.”

I nod my head, “I love it, it lets me relax before I sleep. What about you?”

“You could say that I enjoy it,” He says taking a seat on my sofa and pick’s up the book that was on the top of the stack, C.S Lewis’ “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. “I’ve read this one before, it is speculated that Lewis was actually experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs when he wrote the book. So it’s not really the innocent story that it seems like originally.”

“Okay, wow, how did you know that?” I ask, impressed with his knowledge of the book.

Spencer adverts his gaze, “I think I read it in a journal once.”

I take off my coat and come to sit down next to him, sitting on it sideways, so that I can face him. “So you’re a smartie,” I say giggling.

He places the book back down and turns to me, “My coworkers like to call me the resident genius,” He says, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

“Wow, impressive,” I say smiling up at the man, “What other things do you know?”

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” He says facing me, “I know a lot about a lot of things. That’s kind of my job.”

“What?” I ask, slightly shocked, “What do you do?”

“I’m with the FBI,” Spencer says, voice laced with self-consciousness, “I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Spencer!” I say enthusiastically, “That is so cool! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out, it’s a pretty intimidating job, and I didn’t want to lose you,” He says honestly, placing a hand onto the one I have rested on the top of the sofa.

I take his hand in mine, “I am continually surprised and impressed by you mister Spencer Reid.”

“It’s actually doctor,” He smirks, his confidence building.

“Sorry, Doctor Spencer Reid,” I giggle, “so tell me, mister FBI, what’s it like?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “It’s not as fun as you would think.”

I nod my head, listening to him tell me about his job. It’s almost like a different version of Spencer appears as he talks animatedly about each of his coworkers and what it is that he does. “And my eidetic memory helps me remember all of the things I need for cases.”

“Okay, when you said that they call you a genius you weren’t joking.”

The blush rises in his cheeks and Spencer bites his lip softly. “This isn’t freaking you out?”

“No, Spence,” I say shifting so that I’m closer to him, “Not at all, it’s incredibly attractive.”

His eyes flick down to my lips, and before either of us could make a move, his phone lets out a loud ring. To which Spencer groans and throws his head back, fishing it out of his pocket. “Sorry, it’s work,” he confesses.

“It’s fine, answer,” I say, smiling at him.

“Hello Garcia,” He begins, and I get up and walk away, to give him a little privacy.

“I’m actually with a friend,” He says, his gaze drifting to me, “Is he sure? Okay, I’ll get back to you. Bye.” He hangs up and stands, crossing the room so that he’s in front of me, “What we’re your plans for the night again?”

I look at him sceptically, “I was spending time with you, why?”

“Would you like to come to dinner with my coworkers, well they’re more like my family, because I spend so much time with them,” He starts rambling obviously nervous.

“Yeah, I would love to come, Spence,” I cut him off, “You want to drive or me?”

Tension releases from his shoulders and he beam at me, “I’ll drive.”

Once in the car, Spencer tells me that his whole team is having a group dinner, a kind of team bonding session. He briefed me on each of the members, trying to help as much as he can.

“You know I can take you back home if you’ve changed your mind, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” He says as we pull up in front of the impressive mansion, and turns the car off.

“Spencer Reid,” This draws his attention towards me, his eyes lock with mine, “I’m excited to meet them, no need to be worried.”

He nods his head and we exit the car and walk up to the door. Spencer rings the doorbell and is quickly back at my side. Nerves begin to bubble in my chest, until hours ago I didn’t even know who these people were, and they most definitely didn't know me. What if they don’t like me? Or that I’m not welcome or don't fit in? I don’t think Spencer would stop being friends with me over that, but my growing feelings for the man would complicate the situation. It’s almost as if Spencer can feel my doubts, as his hand reaches down to join with mine, he squeezes it softly.

“Thank you, pretty boy,” I say, throwing him a wink. The door opens to reveal a man, with a cloth tossed over his shoulder.

“Ey, Reid,” The man says, pulling a laughing Spencer in for a hug, and a kiss to each of his cheeks.

“Rossi,” Spencer says, stepping back, “This is Y/n.” He gestures to me.

“Hi,” I say softly, extending my hand out to shake his. But instead, the man wraps me in a hug and I let out a surprised laugh and hug him back.

“Sorry I’m a hugger, I’m David Rossi, but please call me Dave,” He says once he releases me. “Come in, Come in. We were just about to pour the wine.”

We make our way into the large kitchen and I notice the group of people stood around the island. Their laughter and conversations subside as they notice our presence. My eyes flick over the group. Each of them wears a matching expression, surprise, eventually my eyes make it to a familiar face.

“Wait, JJ?” I say, my face breaking out into a grin. The woman makes her way over to us and wraps me in a hug, which I return quickly. Once we release, she hits Spencer’s arm softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew, Y/n?” JJ says accusatory.

“Wait, how do you know each other?”

I let out a giggle, “JJ was my first customer when I opened my shop, and now shes my second most regular customer, I can always guarantee that she will come in and order her black coffee as soon as I open the shop.”

“Hey, I can’t help that the coffee is so good,” JJ says, shrugging.

“So you know JJ and Spencer, but not the rest of the team. So let me introduce,” Rossi says, placing a hand on my arm to guide me over to the rest of the team, JJ and Spence following soon behind. Dave introduces me to each of the members, all of them give me a warm smile and tell me that they’re glad I’m here.

“So how long have you two been dating?” The dark-haired woman, Emily, asks. “Uh,” Spencer stutters, “We’re not dating.”

“No?” Morgan questions, clearly puzzled.

“Nope,” I say, “We’re just friends.”

“Pretty boy come on,” Morgan groans.

“That’s what I call him,” I laugh, to which Morgan hums, asking what I meant without words, “Pretty boy.”

Morgan lets out a laugh, muttering that he likes me already under his breath.

“Wine?” Dave calls out to me.

I shake my head, “No thank you, I’ve got the morning shift.”

“Wait you didn’t tell me that, when do you need to be home?” Spencer quickly interjects, clearly unsure if I should be out, as he knows that I have to be up to open the shop at 4:30 if I’m on the morning shift. I wave my hand letting him know that it’s okay. Looks are thrown between members of the team, all silently swooning of Spencer and I’s obvious feelings for each other.

“Where was your shop again Y/n?” Penelope asks, a smile on her face.

I smile back at the woman, “It’s actually just down the street from where you guys work, next to Taylor’s bookshop.”

“Wait, what was the shop's name again?” Hotch questions.

“Pour l'âme, It’s french,” I laugh, “It means for the soul, but doesn’t the french version sound so much better.”

“Spencer has definitely brought group coffee to the BAU from there at like 9 o’clock at night,” Morgan says, “And there is no way that you’re open that late.”

My eyes flick to Spencer, whose face is red, “You would be right.”

“So that means that you’re making at least seven coffee’s for dear boy wonder here in your after hours,” finishes Penelope.

I nod my head in response.

“Far out Reid, if you don’t make a move I will,” Emily jokes and the group lets out a collective laugh.

The rest of the night goes on without a hitch, the team continues to make jokes at Spencer’s expense, and I'm sure that it's a normal thing for them to do anyway.

The clock ticks over to ten thirty, and Spencer and I say our goodbyes to the team. Each of them gives me a hug, aside from Hotch who had already left.

“Thank you for dinner, Dave, and thank you for having me everyone, it was great to meet you all,” I say, placing my coat over my shoulders, hoping they understand how truly grateful I am to be included.

“You’re more than welcome at my dinner table any night of the week,” Dave says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

The rest of the team makes comments that suggest they agree. And my heart squeezes, they have successfully made me feel so welcomed and like a part of the family already. We throw goodbyes over our shoulders, and Spencer's hand falls into mine and we walk down to his car. He opens the door for me, but before I get in I wrap my arms around his waist.

“Thank you for taking me, Spence,” I say, burying my head into his chest. Spencer’s arms wrap around me and we just stand together for a moment. My heart races at the intimate moment.

“I’m so glad that you could come,” He mutter’s into the top of my hair, “I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to come without you anymore.”

I let out a laugh and pull away from him and get into the car, and we travel back to my apartment. Spencer parks his car and gets out following me to the back entrance to my apartment. We stand outside of my front door.  

“I don’t want to leave you yet,” I confess, a surge of confidence racing through me, “I like being around you. In fact, I think I’m going to surgically attach us together so that I’m always around.”

The two of us laugh. Our eyes lock in the light of the moon, cliche I know, and I can tell that Spencer’s eyes are concentrated on me. His eyes flick down to my lips and I rake my tongue over them.

“I like being around you too,” He whispers, inching closer to me. I can feel his breath on my face at this point, the cinnamon scent that he's always wearing envelops my nose and I feel at home, I feel safe. He leans down slowly and hovers his lips over mine, leaving me time to pull away if it’s not something I want. And oh god do I want it. I step up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his, bringing my hands up to hod his face. His own go around my waist and pull me closer to him. Our lips move together in perfect harmony and it's almost as if the rest of the world slips away. I swipe my tongue over his lips and he opens his mouth to me. We fight for dominance and eventually he wins, pushing me backwards a little bit and we hit my door with a thud, causing us both to laugh and break apart. I grab the back of my head.

“Ow.”

“I’m so sorry,” He says laughing. He places a hand to the back of my head, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say smiling, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth slightly. “So, when are you finally going to ask me out?” I tease.

He lets out another laugh and steps back from me, oozing confidence, “Hey you're the one that told the team that we’re just friends.”

“We are just friends,” I quip back.

He shakes his head, “Do you want to be just friends?”

I shake my head no.

“Good, me either.”

Taglist

@saucybeeches​ 

[lizaloveslevihan]

Title: An Accidental Date

Summary: When Hange is late to their night out, Levi and Moblit are forced to spend the entire evening together and are surprised to find that they have a lot more in common than what they had initially thought.

Ao3 Link: Here

Notes: My levihan secret santa gift for the amazing @fanmoose12 ! Thank you for contributing so much to the entire levihan community! So many of us find solace in your work and your blog and I am personally grateful to you for all that you do in the name of levihan <3 I hope you enjoy!

It was a hip, rooftop bar that had recently opened up in their city around a month ago, which meant that everyone wanted to get in. This was why it was fortunate that Moblit had gotten there a little earlier and managed to secure a spot in the line before it got too long.

Hange had invited him yesterday, and a couple of others as well, so that she could formally introduce her new boyfriend, Levi what’s-his-name, whom she met a few weeks ago at a coffee shop. Moblit had already seen him pop up a couple of times in the lab they worked at where he often kept to himself and talked only to Hange. He had to admit — though he made Hange rather happy, he wasn’t looking forward to spending an evening with the man. There were rumors about how he was secretly part of a notorious gang in the city, and Moblit was afraid he’d wake up one day and hear about how his best friend’s body ended all chopped up in a ditch somewhere. Hange Zoe, as brilliant as she was, didn’t really need any more recklessness in her life. 

He looked up and noticed how he was quickly nearing the entrance. His phone conveniently rang with some notifications at the same time, and he pulled it out from his pocket, surprised to see the message, or rather, messages, that were left in their group chat. 

“I’m sorry, something came up. I can’t make it!" — Nanaba

“Same :( I’ll try to see if I can still go later!” — Nifa

“Mike and I are still at work. Don’t know if we can catch up.” — Erwin

Moblit sighed. He was disappointed, but really, what else could he do about it? His friends were busy people and were prone to dip on outings such as these. As far as he knew, he was only left with Hange and Levi as company. That didn’t seem too bad. The night was still salvageable, especially if Hange was going to be there to talk endlessly. Though Moblit suddenly realized, it did imply that he’d be the third wheel. Damn it. 

As long as the booze was good, he supposed, all should be well. 

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice how he was directly in front of the bouncer until they cleared their throat rather loudly. 

“Invite?” the man in front of him asked. He was on the younger side, but towered over Moblit by a couple of inches and had his large hand outstretched. He looked both wary and unimpressed, his piercing blue eyes giving Moblit a once-over. 

“Uhhh,” Moblit stammered. He started patting down his pockets, well aware of the fact that there was nothing in them but his phone, wallet, and keys. Did they need an invite? He just assumed that all you had to do was wait in line like in Disneyland. None of his friends mentioned having to have an invite. 

“I don’t have one?” Moblit spoke nervously. He didn’t normally go out to places such as these, so he was totally out of the loop when it came to handling these sorts of things. Did he have to slap a twenty-dollar bill on his hand or something? Did he have to threaten anyone? Did he have to lie? Damn it, what was he going to do now? Before he could even make a move, he heard someone call his name. 

“Berner?”

He turned and was startled to see none other than Levi whats-his-name. He wore a leather jacket on top of a gray sweater, black skinny jeans, and a pair of boots. He was raising an eyebrow at Moblit, clearly surprised to see him too. 

Moblit cleared his throat, making sure to remain eye contact with him. “Levi.”

Now that he finally got a clearer view of the man (since the only times he saw him were stolen glances every time he dragged Hange out of the lab and such), he was surprised to see that he was much shorter than what he had initially thought. He had to lower his head to be able to meet those steel, gray eyes. However, despite the height difference, Levi what’s-his-name still radiated an intense aura of intimidation. Moblit wasn’t scared of him — dealing with Hange every day and trying to prevent her from blowing herself up was much more terrifying — but he couldn’t deny that there was just something about those eyes that made him want to stay on his good side as much as possible. Levi didn’t seem like someone you wanted as an enemy. As if Moblit had any anyway.

The shorter man narrowed his eyes up at Moblit as if making sure it was really him. After a few seconds, he sighed and turned his gaze to the bouncer. “He’s with me, Reiner. Let him in.”

Reiner’s eyes widened and he immediately stepped away, “Of course, Mr. Ackerman.”

Ah, so that’s what his last name was, Moblit thought in surprise. He never really bothered with knowing it. To him, he was always either Levi, or shorty, or Mr. Grumps, or whatever name Hange referred to him as. He figured it was safer if he’d stick with the first one. 

Moblit darted his eyes back and forth the two. He didn’t like what that little detail of “knowing the bouncer” implied. What if he really was a gangster and he had all those connections in the underground? What if he posed a threat to Hange? What if he was involving her in some illegal activity in a move to exploit her knowledge—

“Tch,” Levi spoke, rolling his eyes. He started to make his way inside without looking back, “Aren’t you coming, Berner?” he called. 

Pulled out from his thoughts, Moblit darted off and quickly followed him. They went through a small receiving area before turning and going up a plight of stairs. As he stared at Levi’s back, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Hange saw in him. He seemed cold and distant, someone who he couldn’t really see keeping up with her enthusiasm. But maybe that’s how it works. Opposites attract, after all. He did seem to care for Hange — if he didn’t then he wouldn’t be picking her up every day after work and made sure she got home safely. A small part of Moblit wanted to get along with him, maybe get to know him better for her sake. Hange dated a few men and women who weren't really the best of people, only looking to mooch off of her and all that. Some of them didn’t even treat her right, their egos unable to handle the idea of dating a smart woman like Hange. Hopefully, his thoughts about Levi being this gangster were just the stress and wariness seeping back into his brain. 

Once they reached the top, Levi opened the door and allowed him to go first. Moblit nodded as he passed him, and his eyes widened once he finally got a good view of their vicinity. 

The first thing that demanded his attention was the immaculate view of the city behind a glass wall that prevented anyone from falling to the concrete pavements down below. They were surrounded by a stretch of buildings and towers with lights that twinkled all around them. The place itself was buzzing with activity. There were so many people, all dressed to the nines, lounging around the many sofa chairs, conversing by the wide, open bar, or even loitering around the small stage at the far corner that a couple of people were setting up for some sort of stand-up act. Jazz music blared through the speakers as glasses were clinked together and Moblit couldn't help but feel like this was the missing piece he was looking for in his life. Maybe drinking alone in his apartment while watching “Friends” wasn’t the only option. 

He also couldn’t help but wonder exactly how Levi knew the bouncer and how he had access to this obviously exclusive place. If his gang theory was correct, then that would probably explain it. Hange didn’t really give him details about Levi’s personal life. 

Levi made his way to the very back and sat at a secluded sofa chair, right next to the glass wall. Moblit followed suit and sat on the empty chair right in front of him. He turned his head and leaned in to take a view of the busy streets and was surprised to see just how far up they were, considering how that plight of stairs wasn’t exactly long. 

“I’ll have the usual, Eren,” Levi suddenly spoke up, and Moblit turned back to look at a young brunette that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He wore a nervous expression along with a blue button-up and jeans and held up a pad paper and a pen. His shoulders were stiff as he quickly scribbled down Levi’s order before turning his attention to Moblit. 

Moblit hesitated for a couple of seconds, considering his options. He quickly glanced at Levi who gave him an expectant gaze before looking back at the young man, “Vodka,” he said, going with his favorite, “on the rocks, please.”

The Eren kid nodded and wrote down his order as well. But before he could leave, Levi suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him down to his level. Moblit noted the obvious discomfort and anxiety the young man was harboring as he gulped and listened to every word the midget said. 

"I did,” Eren nodded profusely, a drop of sweat making its way down his face as Levi pulled away, “She’s just talking to Mr. Kenny downstairs. I can go get her if you want—”

“No,” Levi said firmly, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair. He stared at Eren, a threatening look plastered across his face, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing any funny business, Yeager. You understand?”

“Yes sir.” Eren laughed nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. He bowed his head and all but ran off. 

Moblit couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at him. Was that how he treated waiters? It seemed like he knew the kid, but still, it didn’t excuse how rude he was to him. A person’s character could always be deciphered by the way they treated waiters and waitresses or people who just generally worked in service. And by the looks of it, Levi didn’t have a good one. Moblit didn’t like that one bit. His previous thoughts of trying to get along with him were slowly exiting out of the door. 

“Where are the others?” Levi asked, looking at Moblit boredly. 

Moblit crossed his arms. “They couldn’t make it.”

“The fuck?” Levi spat, narrowing his eyes, “What do you mean they couldn’t make it?”

“Everyone was busy. They all texted me in our group chat the moment I got to the front.” Moblit explained skeptically. The excitement he felt from coming to this new environment was slowly fading as he spent more time with Levi Ackerman. Sure, he didn’t want to be on his bad side, but the way he treated that waiter really rubbed him the wrong way. 

Levi’s face immediately turned sour. “I fucking go through all this trouble and you’re telling me—”

Before Levi could continue, his phone rang abruptly, cutting him off. He didn’t even check the caller ID before answering it and pressing it to his ear, “Where the fuck are you, shitty glasses?

Moblit’s eyes widened at the mention of Hange, and he carefully observed the way Levi listened to her. It was quiet for a bit as Hange rambled off an excuse, and Levi’s face turned even sourer. Moblit had a feeling of what her excuse was, and he mentally scolded himself for not dragging her with him when he left the lab. 

“The fuck?” Levi said annoyingly. He paused before glancing at Moblit, “Yeah, Berner is here. I can’t believe you. You dragged me into this damn mess and you and the rest of your friends aren’t showing up?” Moblit narrowed his eyes at Levi’s harsh and dictatorial tone, “You dragged me into this mess so you better show up, okay? And don’t blow yourself up for fuck’s sake.”

Moblit didn’t like the way he was talking to Hange one bit. Sure, it was pretty annoying to have someone flake out on you, but you didn’t need to be an asshole about it. Was Moblit disappointed at Hange for leaving him alone with this guy? Absolutely. He was more pissed off than anything. But he knew better than to blame her and make her feel bad about it. He may have only known Levi for a couple of minutes, at best ten, but he decided then and there that no matter how “good” this guy is — him talking to Hange like that, or to anyone for that matter, was completely unacceptable. He felt the anger bubble in his stomach at the thought of him speaking to Hange that way every day. 

Levi gave her a couple more short responses before hanging up. “Tch.” he scoffed, glancing at his phone and shaking his head. Once he pocketed it, he met Moblit’s irritated gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“You don’t have to talk to her that way,” Moblit sneered, his line of defense rising, “she’s just stressed with work. You have no idea—“

“I know enough,” Levi cut off, carefully leaning forward, he spoke: “the way we talk to each other doesn’t concern you. Mind your own damn business.”

“It is my business because she’s my best friend,” Moblit huffed out, matter-of-factly. He leaned in as well, mimicking Levi’s movements, “And I won’t let some asshole like you talk to her like that, especially when it comes to her work. You have no idea how much it matters to her.” 

“Of course I fucking know how much her work is important to her,” Levi emphasized, clearly offended, those gray eyes starting to catch fire, “and what did you just call me?”

“An asshole ,” Moblit responded, all hesitation now leaving his body. Who cares if he was Hange’s boyfriend? Or if he was some sort of notorious and dangerous person? The way he talked to waiters and women was not okay and he deserved to be held accountable. “You better not talk to her like that again.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s how we normally talk to each other.” Levi growled, clenching his fists, “You have no business snooping in another person’s relationship, even if they’re your best friend.” Levi paused as if he just realized something. Moblit noticed how his fists clenched tighter by the second. He pulled back and crossed his legs, those gray eyes now holding a blazing emotion Moblit couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Whatever it was, it was worse than earlier. “Unless…” Levi started, scoffing, “I’m missing something here, Berner?”

Moblit raised an eyebrow at that statement. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it means.” Levi spoke, each word coated in that dark emotion again, “Your job doesn’t exactly require you to be away from her now, does it?”

Moblit looked at him curiously, “And what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Before Levi could reply, Eren appeared with their drinks. 

“Black tea for you, Mr. Levi.” Eren placed the cup in front of him on the table. “And a vodka on the rocks for you, sir,” he said, placing a glass filled with alcohol in front of Moblit. 

“Thank you, Eren,” Levi said, his eyes never leaving Moblit’s face. He glanced down at the drinks, his eyebrows scrunched together as if contemplating something. After a few seconds, he finally spoke up: “You know what? Why don’t you get vodka for me too? It’s gonna be a long night.”

Eren’s eyes visibly widened. “Uhm,” he started, looking at Levi strangely, “Are you—”

“I’d like to order a bottle,” Moblit cut off, copying Levi’s movements. “If you would be so kind. Thank you ,” he said, emphasizing the last words. 

Eren darted his eyes between the two men as silence suddenly enveloped them. Sensing the upcoming argument, he simply nodded and left as quickly as he came. 

“Look, man. I don’t want any trouble.” Moblit started, uncrossing his arms and grabbing his glass. “I just want what’s best for Hange and so you better learn how to talk to her properly to her or there will be damn consequences.”

Levi rolled his eyes, which further irritated Moblit even more. “That’s how we always talk to each other, Berner . It’s our relationship. How dare you think I would ever disrespect shitty glasses like that? You don’t know shit. Stop assuming. And what the hell? Consequences? Really now? ”

Moblit wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could do anything consequential to the likes of Levi, but he sure as hell was going to try. “Who the hell talks like that to their girlfriends?” Moblit said, changing the topic, his eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced with Levi’s reasoning. 

“I don’t have anything to prove to you. It’s our relationship,” Levi huffed, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “As much as I really want to fucking leave you alone right now, she said she’ll be here in an hour or so. So can you stop being a fucking snoop or shit while we wait?”

Levi broke off eye contact and looked at the twinkling city lights on the horizon. They fell into an uncomfortable silence once more as Moblit grabbed his glass and gulped it down in one go. Eren arrived and left a bottle of vodka which he placed in the middle of the table before eagerly disappearing again. He felt slightly guilty for going off on Levi like that, especially since he was the one who got him into the bar in the first place. But still, his rudeness was unnerving. Moblit also didn’t like how Levi implied something about his and Hange’s relationship. Sure, he had felt something for her before, but it had been ages ago. She’s grown to become something more as a friend to him — family even. Besides, Moblit already spent way too much time with her. He loved Hange, but even she could be too much for him sometimes. All he wanted was for her to be happy and treated well by anyone she goes out with because that’s what she deserves. Call him overbearing and all but he just wanted to protect his best friend. Especially since there were so many assholes out there these days. 

Assholes like Levi Ackerman. 

Before Moblit could indulge himself with another glass, his phone rang. 

He checked the caller ID and felt a sense of relief to see Hange’s name on the screen. He quickly answered and pressed the device against his ear, “Hey, Hange.”

This garnered the attention of Levi, who immediately looked at him with wide, yet narrowed eyes.

“Moblit!” she spoke exasperatedly, and he heard some shuffling noise in the background, “I know Levi is there with you, but I’m really sorry I’m going to be late! I swear, I was going to leave but then—” 

“You found where Sawney and Bean were hiding, didn’t you?” Moblit cut off. 

“Yeah! How did you know?”

He darted his eyes towards the sky before looking back down again, “You wouldn’t be staying back at the lab for any other reason.”

Hange chuckled nervously. “I saw Nana and the others cancel on us, man, I’m sorry! I swear, I’ll just be really quick and I’ll get there.”

“It’s okay,” Moblit said softly, glancing at Levi who was glaring at him. He smirked a little bit before proceeding, “Take your time. I’ll still be here when you get off from work.”

“And Levi?” Hange asked expectantly, her voice going a little soft, “He’s all right? I feel really bad for dragging him out and being late and all.”

“He’s fine . We’re fine .” Moblit lied, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Remember where their food is, and don’t forget to leave their cages locked this time.”

“Jeez,” Hange laughed, “You and shorty are really starting to sound like each other these days. Anyway, I got it! I’ll see you guys in a few. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before Moblit could say anything more and ask about what she had meant, Hange hung up. 

“Is she still coming or what?” Levi scoffed, drinking his tea and finishing the cup in one go. 

“She will,” Moblit said, pouring himself another glass, “In a few. Which is going to be around thirty minutes to two hours.”

“I’d say she’d be here in three hours,” Levi rolled his eyes, “Are you willing to wait that long?”

“I have nothing else to do.” Moblit answered immediately, taking another swing of vodka, “you can leave me alone here.”

“Not a chance,” Levi said, taking the bottle of vodka and pouring it in his now-empty teacup, “I have all night,” he said before taking a huge gulp. 

“Good for you, then,” Moblit responded. They fell back into the uncomfortable silence as they finished the bottle. 

Levi glared at him, his cheeks turning a little red, “You don’t seem drunk.”

Moblit scoffed. “I know my way around alcohol. A bottle is nothing .”

“How about three then?” Levi challenged. 

He raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him. “Are you trying to prove something here?”

“Just curious as to how long the guy who dares to call me an asshole can last.”

Moblit swallowed. He did know his way around alcohol, but he didn’t like the challenging gaze Levi had on his face. “Fine,” Moblit said as Levi raised his hand and waved over Eren who quickly scurried back to their table. “You’re on.”

*******

One would think that a guy like Levi Ackerman, with his leather jacket, intimidating aura, and steely gray eyes, would have a rather high alcohol tolerance. And so Moblit wasn’t expecting to see just how tipsy he’s become after about five more glasses. His black hair was disheveled from the sweat that had accumulated, his eyes a little bloodshot, and his jacket laid discarded on the other side of the sofa. They ordered a couple of snacks from the bar, such as nachos and enchiladas, but they were mostly left untouched. He felt people drilling holes at the back of his head, but they kept their distance. He supposed it had something to do with his new drinking buddy. Moblit had to admit, he didn’t think a guy like him would go along with this thing. But it really did seem like he had something he wanted to prove. They had only been doing this for an hour and thirty minutes at most. 

But Moblit wasn’t any different. Though he was accustomed to drinking (something Levi clearly wasn’t), he couldn't deny the fact that his senses were off. He did hear his heart beating rapidly against his chest. Huh.

Before he could pour himself another glass, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He grabbed it with his aching hands and saw a message from none other than Hange herself. 

I had another discovery, Moblit! OMG. Tell Levi I’m really sorry but I gotta check this out. It’ll take me thirty more minutes. See you guys! — Hange

Moblit groaned and slammed his phone down on the table. He didn’t know if he could take this anymore. 

“Let me guess, she discovered some new bullshit again, didn’t she?” Levi said, stretching the last word. 

Moblit, as apprehensive as he still was, nodded in agreement, “I should have dragged her here when I left the lab. Now, look at what happened.”

Levi slumped against his seat and started massaging his temples, “And why didn’t you?”

“She said she was going to ‘follow soon’ after finishing up some paperwork,” Mobit rolled his eyes and finger-quoted. He reached out and took a nacho chip, finally getting some food in his system. 

“Please, she always says shit she doesn’t mean,” Levi sputtered, his face getting a little redder with each passing second. He reached out and sloppily got some food as well, “Like how she keeps telling me ‘Oh Levi, I took a bath!’” Levi imitated her voice as he waved around his piece of nacho chip and stared at Moblit with wild eyes, “But every time I smell her, she obviously doesn’t. Like how the fuck does her hair look all nice and soft and shit and still smell like actual shit?”

Moblit couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “That’s why I am so glad we have to wear masks at work sometimes. She used to go on weeks without taking a bath, like, it got so damn bad to the point a couple of people asked to be transferred to a new department.” Moblit said, finally grabbing more food. He didn’t realize just how hungry he was. “I leave little hints too! I’d say ‘Uh Hange, I think the test subjects need to be in a clean and objective environment or something.’” Moblit imitated as well. 

“You? You actually say shit like that to Hange?” Levi asked in disbelief, pointing a finger at him like a child. 

“I have a nose too! Have you ever sniffed someone who didn’t bathe for weeks?” Moblit gasped, “It was hell. It didn’t help how dense she is and didn’t take the hint—”

“Ha!” Levi suddenly exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, “Shitty glasses is so fucking dense! We’ve been seeing each other for almost two months now and it only took her… what? Two weeks ago to figure out we were… something? ” Levi scoffed as Moblit looked at him with wide eyes, “She gave me all this bullshit about being really good friends and shit.” He glared at Moblit, using his hands and arms expressively, “You don’t fucking make out with your friend at a coffee shop parking lot! Twice! ”

“Seriously? ” Moblit asked incredulously as Levi poured himself another glass and drank it, “She never mentioned this to me.”

“Probably because she wanted to preserve your friendship or something,” Levi muttered bitterly, only enough for Moblit to hear. “It’s all shitty four-eyes’ fault,” the small man droned out, leaning back against the chair. He groaned, rubbing his temple, “She kept… yapping about this night out and shit, and I just wanted to make her happy…

“She fucking means so much to me!” Levi exclaimed, slamming a hand back on the table. This garnered the attention of more people around them. Moblit suddenly started to feel a little embarrassed amongst other things. He supposed they weren’t going to get kicked out due to the nature of Levi’s influence, which still very much remained a mystery. He was also rather surprised at the things that were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t realize just how… deep Levi and Hange’s relationship were. 

“She… fucking… means,” Levi glared, slapping his hand on the table again, “so much to me!” He glared at Moblit, “You’re just a jealous and shit cause you,” Levi coughed, “like her too.”

Moblit had been drinking another glass when Levi said that, and so of course, he really had no choice but to spit it out all over the table. “What?”

Levi immediately stood up, which was a bad idea, considering he was far from being his normal self. “The fuck!” he exclaimed. He fell back into the chair ungracefully, “Yeah! You! You like her and shit… and I just… you always take care of her and I’m glad you do because she would be blown up by now…”

“‘Oh, Moblit! I discovered this thing!’” Moblit said, imitating Hange’s voice once again as he waved around his hands. Okay, perhaps he was drunker than he initially realized, “She’s always trying to blow herself up! And then she tries to test things without seeing if it was safe or not. Like who does that? Don’t you have a bloody Ph.D. or something? Like why do I have to be the responsible one? How did you even get through grad school? What the hell?”

“Exactly! It’s like I’m babysitting a fucking child.” Levi rolled his eyes, which he probably shouldn’t have done since he looked like he was going to be sick. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? Top of the class at some fancy-ass university? Why the fuck do I have to make sure you eat three meals a day and make sure you take a fucking bath and wear all the proper clothes and shit? Like.... the fuck man?” He drank another glass. 

Moblit did the same as he nursed his glass, “It’s cause you care about her man,” he said, starting to feel a little emotional. What the hell was going on with him? “Cause she means a lot to you, right? And she means a lot to me too... but…”

“Okay!” Moblit suddenly exclaimed, feeling some of the tears build up behind his eyes, “She really helped me through college, man. I was in deep shit cause I didn’t have the motivation but she came in… and just helped me turn my life around? Like I don’t know how she did it, she was crazy let me tell you, I mean she still is… but she always pulled through for me. She means so fucking much to me, and sure I had fucking feelings for her ages ago, but I realized we were better off as friends. I mean, look at you, already having so much trouble. I just wanted her to be treated nice and all, especially since she dated a shit ton of assholes before you....”

Levi nodded as if he understood what it was like to have your life fucked up and saved by Hange Zoe. “So you… don’t like her and shit…?” Levi asked, his face a little guarded. 

“I fucking love her,” Moblit declared firmly, “but not that way.”

Levi looked as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he actually looked rather calm and collected despite the obvious mess he harbored. “I swear, the way we talk is all bickering and shit… I would never…”

“No man, I understand that now,” Moblit cut off, feeling bad. Even though he didn’t get that whole communication they had, he could see how much Levi cared for Hange. “I was being pissy and snooty about it.”

Levi agreed, not even denying it. He absentmindedly drummed his fingers on his thigh, as if trying to figure out how to say his next words: “She’s lucky to have you, you know? Four-eyes probably would have been rotting on the ground if it weren’t for you.”

“Well,” Moblit coughed, his head starting to feel heavy, “Thanks for making her take a bath. And you know… making her happy.”

Levi blinked. He leaned and looked at Moblit curiously, “I… do?”

“Man, she’s always extra livelier at work these past couple of days.” Moblit explained, moving to the enchiladas and stuffing a bit to his face, “You can see it in her eyes and crap. They’re all extra... sparkly.”

Levi snorted and scratched the back of his neck. Moblit could have sworn his cheeks became even redder. “Man, when I saw her at that coffee shop, I wanted to stay away as far as possible. She was so fucking loud and... obnoxious and shit. But she kept coming back and shit and I kept coming back too…”

“Love at first sight, huh?” Mobit scoffed. He really needed to stop drinking. “I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy who’d be into that.”

Levi narrowed his bloodshot eyes at him, “And I didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy who could handle alcohol really well.” the small man spoke disbelievingly, “I thought you were some fucking nerd. But a quiet one.”

“Hey! being Hange Zoe’s assistant is something that requires weekly alcohol consumption.” Moblit droned out, “And here I thought you were some gangster or shit.” Moblit laughed nervously, hoping Levi would disprove it immediately. To his surprise, Levi didn’t. Instead, he nodded and shrugged. 

Moblit paled. So the rumors were true. Damn it, he thought. He insulted Levi and had gotten him all pissed drunk. Just as he was starting to open up to him, this happens. As he started to think about a possible escape plan (he needed to get an Uber or something since he was obviously in no place to drive himself, but his phone was dying and it was nearing midnight), Levi let out a small chortle. Moblit looked up and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Throughout the night, Levi had kept an impassive face that had switched between anger and annoyance. He never imagined Levi would grace him with a small smirk. 

“Tch, you should have seen how constipated your face was, Berner .” Levi said amusedly, leaning to grab another glass, “You looked like you were... about to shit your pants.”

“Wait, so…” Moblit started, feeling a little dumbfounded. The alcohol wasn’t doing any help clearing his mind either, “You’re not part of a gang or something illegal like that?”

“That’s fucking hilarious! The only thing I’m part of is this family business,” Levi said, waving to the place around them, much to Moblit’s confusion, “And if I were a part of a gang, like those things at like aha… the TV and you know, movies… and shit fucking shit like that, I wouldn’t be telling you .” Levi said, emphasizing more words than the others. 

“So you actually fucking own the place?!” Moblit cried out, waving his hands all around. So that explained his whole connection with the bouncer and the waiter. He was their boss . Moblit couldn’t decide if this was worse or not. 

“Scream it louder for the whole city, Berner!” Levi said as he slammed his fist on the table, “Yeah idiots!” Levi screamed as he stood up, gaining dozens of eyes on him, “I fucking own the place!”

“What are you doing?” a disbelieving voice suddenly asked. 

Moblit turned to see a young woman in all black — a black shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Her red scarf being the only pop of color on her body. She appeared out of nowhere right in front of their table, crossed her arms, and looked at Levi expectantly. She had the same steely gray eyes, raven hair, and stoicism Levi had but was much taller than the man himself. Levi squinted his eyes, peering at her curiously as if he didn’t recognize her. “Satan?”

“What the—” she shifted her eyes to the bottles and untouched nachos on the table and finally to Moblit. After a few seconds, her lips turned into a small smirk. 

“I was going to reprimand you for talking shit to Eren again, but oh wow , when he told me you were actually drinking alcohol, I almost couldn’t believe him.” the woman said in disbelief, the smirk on her face becoming more apparent. Her voice was stiff and very straight-forward, but she harbored a sense of amusement as of the moment. She pulled out her phone and directed the camera towards Levi. “This is gold.”

“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you brat!?” Levi sputtered out as he tried to grab the woman’s phone without much success. She raised her arm and suddenly Levi wasn’t the intimidating figure he once was. 

“Blackmail, obviously,” the woman rolled her eyes, “This is what you get for scaring Eren again, you boomer.” 

Levi fell back onto the sofa chair after multiple attempts and had no choice but to glare at the figure looming over them. He breathed in deeply as he massaged his temples once more. 

“What exactly did you do to my brother, and how can I make him do this again?” the woman coughed, turning her gaze towards Moblit. “This is the first time in our lives he’s ever been this drunk.”

Moblit hiccuped. Ah, he figured these two were related. The physical resemblance was almost uncanny, but not as much as their resemblance in personalities. “I just called him an asshole. Seemed to do the trick.”

The young woman narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head, “You’re kidding, right? No way,” she said incredulously, her phone still filming the sight in front of her, “I’ve been calling him that all our lives. What the hell?”

“Oi! Mikasa! You better fucking stop that shit,” Levi sputtered, moving to stand up, but failing. “I don’t want Hange to… Hange...look at me like this.”

“Ohhhh, so this is all about Hange then,” the woman—Mikasa scoffed as she raised an eyebrow, “He’s been obsessed with her ever since they met. So that must mean…” she looked Moblit up and down, “you’re Moblit, aren’t you?” 

Moblit nodded. His eyes were starting to close. What was exactly going on again?

“He’s been so jealous of you, it’s annoying . He keeps muttering to himself how much he hates you cause you spend all that time with Hange and crap. And he thinks he’s not loud enough for us to hear him.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, “The boomer is fucking whipped.” 

“I can still hear you, satan,” Levi sneered, waving her away as if she could disappear, “I’m not fucking deaf.”

“Uh-huh,” Mikasa said, smirking at her phone screen. “This is what you get for always crapping on me and Eren. Don’t worry, boomer,” Mikasa hummed, placing a hand on her hip, “I’m sure Hange will still like you and shit.”

As Levi mumbled curses after curses, it was then she darted her eyes toward the end of the bar. Her eyes widened as if she just had a brilliant idea. 

“You need some water or crap.” Mikasa declared. She raised her hand and waved once. Eren was once again by her side, a little calmer than before. 

“What are you doing?” he whispered-yelled, eyes wide. 

Mikasa grabbed his arm, pulled him close, and whispered something to his ear. Eren’s eyes widened even more as he pulled back. He gave her a crazy look that said “really?”

“No,” he coughed, backing away from her, “that’s a horrible idea.”

“He’ll be fine ,” Mikasa scoffed, giving him a pointed look, “he won’t know.”

“Of course he will , someone’s gonna post it on YouTube or something.” Eren argued, “Which is probably going to be you .”

“Have you seen him? He’s a fucking boomer .” Mikasa retorted, “He doesn’t know how to work that crap. Besides, it’s payback from that stunt he pulled with you last week.”

“I told you! It’s fine if he makes me work extra shifts! I need them anyway!” He darted his eyes back to Levi who seemed to be just staring into the space in front of him now. “I really think this isn’t a good idea, Mikasa.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. I’ll take the blame and he’ll probably be too hungover to remember anything.” Mikasa told Eren firmly, “It’s gonna be great .”

Eren hesitated for a couple of seconds before sighing and leaving. Moments later, he was back with two bottles of water. 

Mikasa took one bottle and handed him her phone and instructed him to keep pointing it at Levi. She carefully approached her older brother and kneeled in front of him, “Oi! Boomer! Drink up,” she said, throwing the item on his lap, “You don’t wanna look like a mess in front of Hange now, do you?” 

Levi eyed the bottle of water curiously before looking back up to Mikasa who now had a passive expression on her face, “What the fuck is this?”

“Water, obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “You blind now? You gotta drink that crap so you can start being sober. Isn’t Hange going to be here soon or something?”

Levi looked at Moblit who simply shrugged in return, “Can I have one too, by… by any chance…?”

Mikasa glanced at Eren for a quick second before handing Moblit the other bottle of water as well. “Sure.”

Before Moblit could even open the bottle, Levi was already drinking his. The moment he drank the first sip, he gagged. 

This isn’t water, Mobit thought to himself, inspecting the bottle and sniffing it, it was more alcohol.

He didn’t even get a chance to warn or say anything to Levi as he had already finished the bottle. 

Moblit shrugged and finished the bottle as well. 

“Okay boomer, let’s get you up.” Mikasa said slyly, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder, “I think I see Hange over there at the far end of the corner.” She looked on over to Moblit as well, the smirk coming back to her face and deepening further. “Oh, this is going to be amazing.”

*******

They were going to kill her. 

Of course, her experiments with Sawney and Bean, their beautiful and lovely lab mice Hange had initially lost the day before, ran longer than expected. She couldn't help it — she felt extremely bad for losing them under her watch. She had finished around thirty minutes after her last message to Moblit, and she would have gotten to the bar much earlier if only her car’s battery hadn’t died on her. It was lucky she had charged her phone before she left the house today and was able to get an Uber. There weren’t any buses this late into the night anymore, which would have been a huge problem. 

She was rather tired from today’s activities, but the thought of hanging out with at least Levi and Moblit had been enough to keep her awake. She was sad her other friends couldn't come, but at least those two had pulled through. 

On the car ride there, other than her thoughts of hanging out with her best friend and her boyfriend, she scrambled to think of an excuse on what to say to the latter. She had wanted Levi to meet her friends for so long so that maybe Levi could not only get out of his shell, but they could also possibly schedule more hangouts as a group. Levi only really hung out and worked in his family’s bar with his uncle and his little sister. Hange didn’t want the others to know he was the owner out of fear of her friends possibly freeloading and putting him in an awkward position. Which was why she just omitted that little detail when she called for everyone to get drinks. Levi had been hesitant to go forward with the meeting but had agreed anyway, which made her feel incredibly guilty about being the one late. 

She also wondered just how well he was getting along with Moblit. Though, she was pretty confident things were going to be, or they already were, awkward between the two. Another thing to add to her guilt list. 

Hopefully, she thought as the car stopped in front of her destination, her scolding wouldn’t be too bad. From either of them. 

She paid the driver and got off and scanned the long lines in front of her. Normally, she would have waited in line like any other normal person out of respect, but she was already running late. Mumbling apologies, she headed straight to the entrance where Reiner stood. 

“Oh! Hange! You’re finally here!” the blonde exclaimed, his face lighting up at the sight of her, “The boss already went in with another guy a couple of hours ago. I heard it was pretty crazy up there.”

“Hi, Reiner!” Hange smiled warmly, “Yeah, I had been too preoccupied at the lab and almost lost track of time! I’m here now, though, so hopefully Levi won’t scold me too much.” she said sheepishly. 

Reiner instantly stepped away to let her in, “I’m sure he won’t be too angry with you. You are his number one after all.” which made Hange blush and look down on the pavement, “Have fun!”

Hange gave him another smile before hurriedly making her way inside and up the stairs. She almost tripped a couple of times but had managed not to. Throwing open the doors to the rooftop, she panted, eyes searching for the two. Knowing Levi, he would be in his usual secluded spot by the very back. However, she was surprised to see how virtually empty that side was. She then directed her gaze towards the other side to the small stage where a comedy act was usually situated at. Her eyes then widened at the sight in front of her, and she had to do a double-take to make sure what she was seeing was real and not a figment of her imagination. 

“There were moments of gold and there were flashes of light!” Moblit screamed with his eyes closed. His hair and his button-up shirt were a certified mess. He threw an arm around… Levi?

“There were things I'd never do again!” Levi, the normally quiet, stoic, and clean person screamed into the microphone he held as he wrapped a free arm around Moblit’s waist, leaning towards him. His eyes were also closed, his normally tidy and neat hair a disheveled mess covered in sweat. “But then they'd always seemed right!”

“There were nights of endless pleasure!” Moblit sang in an extremely ridiculous high note which made Hange visibly cringe. The crowd that had formed in front of them, however, thought otherwise and all started cheering him on and clapping, “It was more than any laws allow!” Moblit dipped a little backward at that last note. 

“Baby, baby!” they both screamed as they let go and proceeded to face one another. 

“If I kiss you like this, ” Levi said, placing a hand on Moblit’s neck as he opened his bloodshot eyes. Yes, he was absolutely wasted.  

“And if you whisper like that,” Moblit sang affectionately as he cupped Levi’s cheek. The crowd gave another holler at the action. 

“It was lost long ago!” they sang together, holding onto one another for dear life, “But it's all coming back to me!”

“If you want me like this,” Levi whispered almost… seductively? That’s it. Hange must be dreaming. There was no way in hell this was happening. What was worse was how both men knew each line of that Celine Dion song and had it memorized. She stood frozen in her spot, unmoving, not knowing whether she should laugh, cry, or take out her phone to record first.  

“And if you need me like that,” Moblit yelled, pulling Levi close to him once again. The shorter man wobbled and held onto him for support, “It was dead long ago!”

“But it's all coming back to me!” they screamed together before tumbling down. The crowd gasped and laughed at the sight in front of them. The instrumental music kept playing as Hange heard a wretched puking noise. The crowd all collectively groaned in disgust and dispersed, enabling Hange to get a better view of the fallen men. 

What the actual fuck.

They both had puked their guts out, and so they were both covered in chunky pools of vomit. Moblit had passed out immediately, his arm still wrapped around Levi’s. The smaller man’s eyes were lidded and bloodshot, trails of vomit still leaking down from his chin. He looked around, confused, before screaming: “Oi! Four eyes! It’s no funty!” he groaned, attempting to wipe away the vomit from his chin but instead spreading it even more, “The brat said you were here already! Show perself! I just want to be with youuuuu!”

Hange’s mouth fell open. The shock she felt was even bigger than the comedy of the situation, and she had to slap herself to make sure all of this was real. How did they even get to this point? How in the world had Levi allowed himself to get to this point? He didn’t even drink, with tea being his go-to beverage. His uncle was the alcohol guy. And Moblit, calm and normally shy Moblit, how the hell did he get to this? Hange knew he was accustomed to drinking, so he had an incredibly high alcohol tolerance. So for him to get wasted like this must have taken a hideous amount of alcohol consumption. Which meant that whatever Moblit had drunk Levi had as well. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” Mikasa appeared next to her, holding up her phone and recording the entire… situation. Hange gaped at her, still dumbfounded at the sight in front of them. Mikasa gave a deep breath, obviously trying to hold in her laughter, “They’ve been quite lonely without you.”

“What. The. Hell. Happened?” Hange asked, appalled. She was so damn close to breaking down in tears. Both good and bad. 

At the last word, Levi let out a large groan and exclaimed, “Hangeeee if you don’t come back here with your shitty ass glassesssss I’m gonna dump you and date Berner insteaddddd!” he slurred, punching the air and then passing out next to Moblit, right on the pool of vomit they created together. 

“Oh wow, the boomer is gonna replace you after just one night with another guy? What a joke.” Mikasa scoffed, fiddling with her scarf and shaking a little bit from quiet laughter. “I don’t think they’ll be waking up anytime soon.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as some of the staff started to clean up the mess, only leaving the bodies untouched before the shock finally left her body and Hange found her voice: “You gave them Spirytus Vodka mixed with rum, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you recorded the entire thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you know what my email address is?”

“Yes. I’ll also send you the YouTube link later tonight.”

“You know he’s going to come after you, right?”

“But I have you as a backup.”

“Touche.”

“Can you run me through the story of how they ended up like this?” Hange asked, looping her arm with the younger Ackerman. 

“Sure,” Mikasa said, turning off her recording and leading Hange to the bar. “Pina Colada?”

“And some cheesy fries.”

Hange didn’t need to worry about those two. There’d be enough pictures and videos about them tomorrow on social media. Though, she was rather worried at the prospect of her best friend stealing her boyfriend from her. Now that would be a really difficult situation. 

[aliciameade]

Full Reveal

Title: Full Reveal Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Extra Fun Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Chloe and her [very famous] girlfriend Beca escape into anonymity at a Las Vegas burlesque performance, though the show has other plans for them that stir up some playful feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that beg to be addressed.

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Ladies? If you’d follow me?”

“I saw that,” Chloe teases in Beca’s ear, fingertips tickling Beca’s lower back through her sheer black shirt.

Beca’s response is little more than a side-eye and a smirk as she shoos Chloe’s hand away. Chloe takes no offense, of course. They are less than alone as a concierge leads them through a dark, sultry hallway teeming with people in various states of inebriation. Their escort is an attractive blonde wearing a black three-piece suit and stilettos, though she seems to have forgotten to don the shirt beneath the vest to leave ample cleavage on display and Beca hadn’t been very discreet about looking at it.

They’re in Las Vegas for the weekend. Beca is there ostensibly for work—she’s performing tomorrow night at Mandalay Bay—but when she’s not scheduled for soundcheck, press, meet and greets, and the concert itself, the weekend is for the two of them. They’ve sacrificed the privacy and seclusion of the embarrassingly large home they share in Malibu in favor of a weekend of fun. 

They’d sacrificed anonymity years ago when Beca decided, with the support of their friends, to take the leap into becoming a solo artist, leaving behind the frustrating and often unfulfilling career in music production she thought she’d been made for.

It turned out that performing was a lot more fun for her.

The paychecks were also a lot bigger.

And Chloe was by her side for the breakneck launch of Beca’s new career, quietly smiling as she trailed a few steps behind on red carpets, tucked herself into corners of green rooms while Beca entertained VIPs after concerts, and watched her girlfriend present at award shows from backstage monitors.

The general public doesn’t know who Beca is dating, or if she is dating anyone at all. She doesn’t talk about having a current relationship in interviews, just tales of bad ones in her past. There are plenty of rumors and theories, and some people are correct in their hypothesis that the friend often accompanying Beca to parties or seen grabbing coffee or grocery shopping with is more than just a friend.

It’s a privacy thing for Beca. She is out and proud, finally, and she had decided she didn’t owe the public more of her than she was already giving them. Chloe respected that decision; she waited so long for Beca, she probably would have agreed to the wildest of terms if it meant finally being in a relationship with the woman. But simply keeping their relationship status away from the public wasn’t a big ask. Their friends and family knew. Beca’s team knew. But the public was left to its own conjecture.

It helped that part of why Beca didn’t want to share that part of her life with the public was because she wanted to protect it.

It was really damn romantic for Chloe.

It’s also fun. It’s like they have alter egos and tonight they are attending the midnight performance of Luxury X Lace in a small cabaret venue in the depths of a massive casino as nothing more than two friends having a girls’ night out in the city that never sleeps. It was the hottest ticket in a town full of hot tickets, an X-rated burlesque that confiscated cell phones at the door in exchange for your choice of black, silver, or gold masquerade masks to help strip patrons of their identity and inhibitions and immerse them into a world of high-end debauchery.

Beca’s publicist had made a phone call and Beca and her good friend Chloe were invited to the Friday night performance. Phones were exchanged for masks—black for Beca and silver for Chloe—to be led into the cabaret hall.

It’s far more intimate than Chloe had expected. There are a dozen tables arranged around the X-shaped stage and three lines of booths curving around the wall behind the tables. The stage is empty save for a single black chair positioned at the center of it. Music pulses around them.

They are shown to the center booth on the first level, something Chloe suspects is likely the choice seat in the venue. She’s been with Beca long enough to recognize plenty of such perks.

She prefers other types of perks that come with being with Beca, though. Like the way Beca’s hand immediately comes to rest on Chloe’s bare knee just below the hem of Chloe’s gray pleated skirt. Chloe smiles to herself and peruses the themed cocktail menu, content with their proximity and connection. She knows there will be more tonight once they are back in the privacy of their suite at the Mandalay.

“What are you thinking?”

Chloe lets herself smirk, knowing Beca will see it and read exactly what Chloe was thinking, though she knows that wasn’t what Beca was asking. “I think I’m going to try this one, the ‘Satin Sheets,’” she says, tapping on the menu before rotating it so Beca can choose as well.

She watches other patrons arrive to be shown to their tables, the air of excitement growing around them as scantily clad waitresses start to weave their way from table to table collecting drink orders. They spend time flirting with everyone and Chloe notices the way they don’t hesitate to offer a friendly touch to their customer: a playful nudge of a shoulder, fingers through the short hair of the men, winks, and close examinations of manicures or rings on the women.

When a blonde arrives at their table, Chloe thinks that perhaps they will be exempt from this flirtation. Their seating in the booth is not conducive to a waitress sidling up next to someone as can be done at a table and chairs on an open floor, but to compensate, the waitress simply slides into the booth next to Chloe and offers a well-practiced sultry smile.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Jasmine, and I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of tonight.”

Chloe thinks Jasmine might recognize Beca, even with the mask. There’s a bit of a hesitation in the way her eyes linger on Beca. Or maybe she’s just appreciating Beca’s eyes and lips and jawline the same way Chloe does. Or maybe she’s just working on a good tip. But Chloe knows they are in the high roller seat and it wouldn’t take much for the waitress to connect the dots. And that means she and Beca need to be best friends. Not girlfriends.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Chloe offers and can’t help her smile when the attractive woman leans in to slowly wrap a lock of her red hair around a finger.

“I love this color,” Jasmine purrs and even though Chloe knows exactly what the waitress is doing, her own natural inclination to flirt responds.

“It’s natural,” she purrs right back, leaning into her space. She can feel Beca’s blunt fingernails press into her knee before her hand disappears. That is another perk to their secret romance: getting to experience Beca’s possessiveness. It rivals her own for Beca.

“Can you prove it?” The waitress lets her eyes drop unabashedly to Chloe’s lap before they’re back on her eyes.

“Yes, she can.” 

Chloe sees the amusement on Jasmine’s face at Beca’s interjection and the waitress backs off, interpreting Beca’s answer as asserting her dominance.

Beca asserting her dominance is nothing new. She’s been good at that since she was in college. Taking control of situations. Putting people in their place. Making people listen to what she has to say.

She asserts it everywhere but in the bedroom that she shares with Chloe.

Jasmine is unfazed by Beca, even if she does stop touching Chloe. Her demeanor is still dark and flirtatious and she redirects her attention to Beca. “Mmm, I love your voice.”

Chloe’s sure Jasmine knows now. In fact, it’s entirely possible that every employee of the production knows that Beca Mitchell is their special guest this evening. That is often the case if they attend some type of event when Beca insists she makes the calls to get the best seats and the backstage access and whatever else she thinks Chloe should have.

Chloe’s attention shifts to Beca and her reaction, but she’s well-versed in this act as well. Chloe’s bared witness to Beca emerging from her cocoon of early adulthood and her wavering confidence and awkwardness. Chloe knows Beca can charm her way into anyone’s pants nowadays, with or without the game.

She charms her way into Chloe’s on a regular basis.

“Then you’d love how it sounds moaning your name. Jasmine, was it?” Beca’s voice drips over the waitress’s name and Chloe feels her own thighs clench at her tone.

Chloe tries to mask her reaction—arousal and amusement—by adjusting the way her hair sits over her shoulders. She knows this is a game for them. It’s hot to watch Beca flirt with other women knowing it’s Chloe’s skirt that her hand will be up on the way home. So many people wanting her girlfriend but her girlfriend only wants her.

God, she can’t wait to get back to their room tonight.

“She’s going to have the Satin Sheets,” Beca continues, ordering Chloe’s drink for her. “And I’ll take the...Pillow Princess,” she concludes.

Chloe’s no fool. She knows why Beca chose that one; she knew she would the moment Chloe saw it on the menu.

Maybe Chloe really, really likes it when Beca uses her tongue. And maybe Beca likes using it just as much. Chloe’s not ashamed one bit that she asks for it with the frequency that she does.

“A perfect combination,” Jasmine says, reaching across the table just to graze her fingers over Beca’s knuckles. Working extra hard earning the big tip from the celebrity table. “I’ll be right back.” Her exit is as practiced and graceful as her appearance was and Chloe feels Beca’s hand back on her knee, maybe an inch or so higher than it was before.

“You’re such a flirt,” Beca says with a sly smile. She knows the game, well, too.

“Well, she has great tits,” Chloe answers with a shrug, playing along with their evening of Gal Pals.

That manages to ruffle Beca's feathers the tiniest bit, and she knew it would. Cleavage is something Beca definitely excels at and it’s on display tonight thanks to the black push-up bra she’s wearing beneath her sleeveless sheer black top. Chloe had unbuttoned it almost completely while they were in the elevator, leaving only the last three buttons remaining fastened. It created a wonderful peek-a-boo effect, sometimes revealing bare skin, sometimes not, and she’d given in to the temptation to press her lips to the swell of Beca’s right breast before the doors had opened. She can still see the faint imprint of her lipstick on it when the light catches it.

Beca narrows her eyes and pointedly brushes one side of her open blouse aside as a reminder of her own assets—as if Chloe could ever forget—and Chloe lets her eyes roam over the expanse of skin, tongue wetting her lips with obvious want.

That seems to rectify the situation. The corners of Beca’s mouth twitch and Chloe has to bite her lip at the way Beca’s fingers suddenly sweep up her inner thigh to graze between her legs before her hands are both above the table to accept the drinks their waitress has already returned with.

“Enjoy,” Jasmine says with a wink before departing once more.

“Mmm, we will,” Chloe says as she takes hers in her hand. “Shall we toast?”

Beca nods and lifts her glass as well. “To what?”

“To seeing where the night takes us.”

Beca’s mouth pulls into the attractive smirk Chloe fell in love with so many years ago. “What happens in Vegas…” she says and taps her glass to Chloe’s.

They drink together as the lights dim until the room is in near darkness. Under the safety of the shadows, Beca presses herself closer, her fingers moving absently but sweetly over and along Chloe’s knee and thigh. Not progressing. Just touching. Chloe lets her arm slip over Beca’s shoulders, something that is more conspicuous, but the only people who know who Beca is are those focused on putting on a show. 

A single spotlight hits the chair center stage and a figure emerges from the darkness behind it, dark hair, long legs, sparkling lingerie, platform stilettos.

They watch the performance in silence. It’s a mixture of blatant sex appeal and tongue-in-cheek humor, the performers—mostly women but a few men—each having their own unique talents and schticks, an androgynous emcee by the name of Angel guiding the audience through the evening.

Angel is funny and personable as they flirt with patrons and performers alike, cracking one-liners between performances.

Chloe watches as several performers make their way out of the wings and onto the stage until the X is occupied by eight women in matching sparkling red lace lingerie, a ninth waiting at the center wearing a black leather bustier, thigh-high boots, and holding a riding crop.

Her appearance earns a particularly boisterous round of cheers from the audience and Chloe has to admit that the woman is the most attractive person on stage, all legs and tits and long, purposely mussed blond hair.

Beca’s fingers have stopped wandering. Instead, they’re tapping along to the beat of the music. She finds rhythms woven and hidden in the instrumentals that Chloe would never hear if not for Beca’s keen ear. The soundtrack for the evening largely consists of remixes of popular songs. They’re recognizable but without the vocals, not distracting.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, neither, both, and those yet-to-decide,” Angel says with a dramatic flourish as they slowly turn in place as if addressing each person individually, “Scarlet needs a victim—I mean, a volunteer.” 

A murmur of excitement rolls through the audience and Chloe thinks she feels Angel’s attention land squarely on their table. She can’t be sure due to the lighting; it’s possible they’re eyeing everyone in the room to increase the tension. Chloe can feel it in the way the initial excitement is now silent other than the thumping bass of a remix of a remix of a song Chloe can’t quite put her finger on in her pleasantly inebriated, slightly distracted state.

Beca seems to recognize the song, the tapping on Chloe’s knee shifting to one of confidence. It registers with her just as she senses Beca turning as if to whisper something in her ear but Chloe beats her to it.

“Hey, this is your—” is all she gets out before a lace-clad woman is taking Beca’s hand to invite her out of the booth. 

“It seems we have a volunteer!” Angel initiates an encouraging round of applause from the audience.

Chloe watches with equal parts amusement and trepidation as her very famous and very secret girlfriend is led—willingly, she notices—down through the tables and toward the stage while a version of one of Beca’s biggest hits thumps and swirls around the room. She wonders if Beca knew this was going to happen for as ready as she was to slide out of the booth to be taken to the stage where Chloe watches her climb the three steps.

“I didn’t tell you to sit,” Scarlet chastises as soon as Beca moves to sit on the chair in the center of the stage.

It makes Beca laugh and stand up straight, hands clasped in front of her.

“You didn’t even let me give you a proper welcome,” the new host says with a shake of her head and Chloe can tell she’s looking Beca up and down appreciatively.

“Sorry.” Chloe can’t really hear Beca; she doesn’t have a microphone as Scarlet does, but she sees it on her lips.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Scarlet scoffs toward the audience, causing laughter to bubble up from the tables. “Now, what should I call you?” She extends the microphone to Beca who hesitates before speaking.

The premise of the club is anonymity to allow everyone to indulge in their dark desires, but she still answers, “Beca.”

It makes Chloe’s heart stop. She knows it will take people a matter of seconds before they figure it out. She might be wearing a mask, but with her song playing and saying her name, there’s no hiding exactly who has been selected for the main event. She’s grateful that cell phones were confiscated upon arrival. If they hadn’t, she knows this would be broadcast on Instagram Live. The excitement in the room is palpable as the audience puts the pieces together.

“Beca? Everyone, let’s give Beca a warm welcome.”

The applause is not a polite smattering this time. It’s boisterous and full of whistles and shouts and Chloe just sits forward to prop her chin on her clasped hands. This wasn’t how she expected their night to go.

“Okay, Beca,” Scarlet says, her stance so casual despite her costume, “would you like to sit down?”

Beca moves to sit and yelps when Scarlet makes quick work of the riding crop. It was so quick Chloe didn’t even see it but she’d clearly used it to stop Beca from taking a seat.

“I didn’t tell you to sit. I asked if you would like to sit.” Scarlet shakes her head as she says it and the audience laughs, fully engaged in watching pop star Beca Mitchell get womanhandled. “You see, Beca, I’m the one in charge here.”

And womanhandled she gets. Scarlet’s hand, the one not holding her microphone, is on the back of Beca’s neck and wandering across her shoulders and into her hair in a way that makes Beca visibly shiver. It also makes Chloe clench her jaw.

“I know you’re a woman who holds a lot of power, but something tells me you like to give up control now and then. Am I right?”

There are teasing whistles when Beca laughs and says, “Yeah,” into the microphone.

“I think you mean, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca repeats.

“Good. Obedient,” Scarlet praises, starting to circle Beca slowly though still managing to not stop touching her. “So you’re going to listen to me, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl. Now sit.” A hand in the center of Beca’s chest pushes her down into the chair. It makes the audience whistle again.

Beca makes eye contact with Chloe once Scarlet is out of the way and flashes a smile and the small hand gesture they came up with shortly after they began dating, something they could do inconspicuously to let the other know, ‘The situation is okay, not to worry, I love you.’ They use it on red carpets, at press junkets, interviews, and appearances. Chloe was always so worried Beca was being pressured into sharing more than she wanted to or getting upset that people would confront Beca about dating rumors on national television. It was a good solution and one that has grown to have a deeper meaning for them both as time has passed.

It helps Chloe relax. It means Beca’s fine. That she did, in fact, probably agree to this in advance when she made the arrangements to attend. Chloe sits back in her seat though is no less attentive to how Scarlet is touching Beca. 

It’s fifteen minutes of amusement and agony for Chloe as she watches Scarlet entertain the audience by catching Beca misbehaving, taking action before being given permission to do so, or forgetting to say, “Yes, ma’am.” It’s particularly painful when Scarlet’s stiletto thigh-high boot gets planted on the seat of the chair right between Beca’s thighs. She’s instructed to kiss it and Chloe watches with rapt attention as Beca hesitates before doing so, kissing Scarlet’s knee.

Chloe doesn’t like it, not one bit. But she does enjoy it, which is more than a little confusing. The one thing she is sure of is that she wants the show to end so they can go back to their room where Chloe can show Beca just how much she enjoyed her performance.

It’s fifteen minutes of Beca being ordered to her knees, to lie down, to stand up, to answer questions, sometimes messing up and getting swatted across her ass with Scarlet’s riding crop. It’s entertaining for everyone, Beca included who is smiling most of the time, except when she’s ordered to wipe it off her face. Everyone is entertained by the sexy blond dominatrix making sexual innuendos with Chloe’s girlfriend, touching her, spanking her, making her laugh, and assuredly blush as the crowd gets way more than they paid for. Not just a night at Luxury X Lace but fifteen minutes of Beca Mitchell, whose concert tickets top out in the $500 range for premium seats, being sexually teased and willingly degraded.

By the time it’s over and Beca’s sliding back into their booth, Chloe has to check to see if her own fingernails have made her palms bleed from clenching her fists so hard.

“Was that fun?” she asks, making no effort to hide her irritation from her voice.

It doesn’t seem to bother Beca, though, who ignores the question and leans in to kiss Chloe. It’s hard and demanding and not something they should be doing in public and Beca’s hand returning to her thigh under the edge of her skirt makes Chloe forget why she was annoyed in the first place.

“Everything okay?” Beca asks when they part after a few more seconds.

“Um,” Chloe feels dazed, “yeah. Um...people?” She reminds tilting her head toward the rest of the seating area.

Beca just smiles and slides her hand higher up Chloe’s skirt. “No one’s watching us.”

It makes Chloe grab Beca’s hand to stop it and turn to look around. Beca’s right. The show is continuing and even though Beca’s cover is blown, their privacy in the booth remains in-tact. The audience is more interested in the mostly naked women and men on stage, not what the celebrity is getting up to with her secret girlfriend at the burlesque show.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe breathes. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to what Beca so immediately suggested upon her return. But something about what she watched did things to her. Turned her on. Made her want to remind Beca who was really the one in charge, and their name isn’t Scarlet. She nods and kisses Beca again while releasing Beca’s hand to let her do what she wants.

Beca’s smooth about it. They’ve had years to memorize perfect angles, perfect rhythms, and Chloe hates (and kind of loves) that Beca pulls back from their kiss to watch Chloe’s masked face respond to her fingers moving up and slipping beneath her lace thong.

Beca’s smile is annoying and Chloe knows exactly what she’s thinking: Chloe is way too wet for two minutes of kissing. She’s been enjoying the show. Specifically, Beca’s role in it.

“Fuck,” she quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Beca’s lips before turning her attention back to the performance. She knows they could probably get away with a lot more than Beca’s hand up her skirt, but that’s what makes it fun. The game. Will they get caught? Will the world finally know who Beca’s talented, multi-million-dollar mouth is making come nearly every night?

She feels Beca settle comfortably next to her, one hand lifting her drink to her lips, the other pressing two fingers into Chloe to start fucking her slowly. Chloe hates that she knows Beca’s intentions: if she hadn’t done that, if she’d just kept her fingers teasing Chloe’s clit, she’d be coming in a matter of a few minutes.

But she won’t now, not like this. Not with Beca fucking her almost leisurely, a slow pace that reaches as deep as the angle allows. She hikes up her left knee to prop her foot against the leg of the table and open herself wider. It doesn’t make Beca move any more quickly, but it does help her push deeper.

It makes Chloe’s head tilt back to rest against the booth. She doesn’t need to watch the performance. No one cares. No one’s watching them. The music is loud and Angel is narrating and people are applauding and Chloe lets herself moan.

She slips her arm behind Beca’s shoulders to keep her close, playing with her hair to make her shiver as Scarlet had. But it’s Chloe whom Beca is fucking in public. Not Scarlet. The thought makes her fingers twist and they tug maybe a little too hard on Beca’s hair because she hears her gasp in her ear.

Chloe wonders how long Beca will torture her. She’s so turned on but Beca’s not driving her any closer to her climax. It’s a prolonged plateau and Chloe starts to feel that it’s less about getting her off and more about Beca wanting to do something risque when people know who she is.

It’s not the first time; they’ve snuck off to bathrooms and coat check rooms many times over the years for quick fun, but Beca has never been this bold.

She clenches around Beca’s fingers and feels them curl inside her. She thinks it might encourage Beca to speed up but instead, she pulls out completely.

It makes Chloe’s head snap up, ready to complain about the loss only to open her eyes to Beca sucking on her fingers before she’s clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience and dropping a trio of hundred-dollar bills on the table to tip their waitress.

The show is over and Chloe has no idea how it ended. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is how much she needs to come and how quickly they can get back to their hotel.

People are still clapping when their escort upon arrival appears. “Ladies? Let’s get you out before the mass exodus.”

Beca finishes off her drink and scoots out of the booth, reaching back for a slow-to-move Chloe to take her hand and help her. Chloe isn’t drunk, far from it in fact. But she’s so aroused she’s not thinking very clearly and smiles her appreciation as Beca helps her out and to her feet.

Her mind clears a bit as they walk, though she can feel how wet and swollen Beca’s made her with every step she takes. She’s grateful for the early exit; Beca no longer being anonymous means she is fair game to anyone who can get to her. They’re led not the way they entered but through a side door that drops them right next to the desk where they’d checked in. Phones returned but masks retained, they turn to make their way out of the casino.

“What were you thinking?” Chloe asks as they walk with notable speed through the maze of slot machines following signs pointing toward the exit.

Beca’s smile is really more than a smirk. “Are you complaining?”

Chloe doesn’t really have an answer to that. She’s not complaining. Maybe some notice about being the featured guest would have been nice, but she doesn’t want to talk about celebrity life and privacy right now.

Right now, she needs Beca to finish what she started.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Then, driven by need and adrenaline and the fact that word has probably not yet spread that Beca Mitchell is in that particular casino and they still have their masks, she pulls Beca aside and up against the side of a bank of slot machines to kiss her.

She wants to do it right there. She wants to tell Beca to kneel like she did for Scarlet and put her head under her skirt and make her scream in front of everyone.

Instead, she kisses Beca hard, tongue and teeth and hands on her ass until it’s Beca who moans this time.

Chloe pulls away abruptly just as Beca had when the show ended and it’s her turn to smirk at how disoriented and aroused Beca looks. “Come on,” she says as she takes her hand and pulls them toward the path to the exit once again.

It takes longer than it should to get back to the Mandalay Bay. If they could manage to make it more than two blocks without someone being pushed against a wall, a planter, or a vending machine to make out, it would only be a fifteen-minute walk.

Instead, they’re finally in the elevator forty-five minutes later behaving themselves because there are three other people riding up with them. They both know they’ll be the last ones off; Beca’s suite is on one of the uppermost floors. It makes Chloe tingle with anticipation because she knows it’s going to be a competition of who does what first as soon as they are alone.

It’s Chloe who wins. The last person steps off and before the doors are even closed, she has Beca against the rear wall of the elevator, tongue in her mouth and hands up her shirt and under her bra. They have six floors to go which is only a matter of seconds but it’s long enough to make Beca say, “God, I need you,” when it ends and the doors open.

They’ve had their share of rushing down hotel hallways to lock themselves in increasingly upscale rooms to ravage one another and this time is no different. It’s a choreographed dance at this point. Chloe’s the one who has the key out and ready because Beca usually can’t find hers or can’t focus long enough to insert it.

Chloe’s able to unlock it by touch at this point because so often she has Beca pressed up against the door, sometimes kissing her, sometimes breathing hotly in her ear while her hand wanders to indecent places. With a quick click, the door swings open and they spill into the palatial suite. It’s a dance as well, removing shoes while careful not to trip over each other or furniture or bags as Beca pulls her mask off and tosses it aside, followed by Chloe’s before she’s pulling Chloe down onto the oversized couch in the center of the room.

“Can’t even wait ‘til we get to bed?” Chloe asks with a smiling kiss before she moves back so she can unbutton Beca’s jeans.

“Whatever,” Beca says. She arches her back and reaches under herself and Chloe watches her strip away her bra, pulling it out through her shirt.

“I was getting to that. No, leave it,” Chloe adds when Beca starts to unbutton the sheer top. It leaves nothing to the imagination, but seeing Beca without her bra, perfect curves and stiff nipples Chloe knows she’ll have her mouth on soon enough… 

Beca stops what she’s doing and instead lifts her hips to help Chloe peel her jeans and underwear away.

“You were trying to make me jealous,” Chloe says matter-of-factly as she yanks the tight jeans from Beca’s feet with a little more force than is necessary.

Beca’s holding herself up on her elbows and she looks entirely too proud of herself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you let everyone know who you were.” Chloe’s hands start making their way up Beca’s bare legs, parting them to make room so she can back up and lie down between them. She settles Beca’s knees over her shoulders to kiss her inner thigh. It makes Beca shiver and sends hands down to tangle in Chloe’s hair. “And I can’t believe you fucked me.” Another kiss, higher, to make Beca’s breathing quicken. “Anyone could have caught us. Think of the headlines: ‘Beca Mitchell caught red-handed...knuckles deep in her best friend’s sopping pussy.’”

She can tell Beca wants to laugh but it comes out as a moan of impatience instead. Tired of waiting herself, Chloe shifts higher to tease her tongue against Beca’s clit.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Beca groans, pulling hair and lifting her hips as if she’s the one who had been left needing more at the show. Her impatience means Chloe’s done a good job turning the tables on her little stunt.

“Did you like that woman spanking you?” Chloe knows she’s toeing a line. They both might be, but she was jealous. And she is turned on.

Beca’s hesitation is telling and she finally nods when Chloe licks her again. “Yeah.”

“Did you like her telling you what to do?”

The answer is immediate this time. “Yes. Fuck, Chlo, please.” She lifts her hips again wanting more of what Chloe is withholding.

Chloe’s going to come back to the conversation. For now, she has needs and she needs to make Beca come. She’s never been able to resist her long, not when she begs her in that voice, not when she pulls Chloe’s face between her legs pleading Chloe to fuck her.

She’s not going to torture her the way Beca did. She has a second need which is to make Beca finish what she started, but she will deal with one thing at a time.

Beca is wet under her tongue and Chloe wraps her arms around her thighs to hold her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other parting Beca to be able to lick exactly where she knows Beca likes it. Fast. Focused. Exactly what it takes for Beca to— 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come already, I hate you.” She moans as she says it and Chloe can taste the way she’s starting to unravel.

It makes her smile. Beca doesn’t hate her. Not one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact, and Chloe takes pride that it still annoys Beca that Chloe can get her off so quickly. And it’s not that she’s annoyed that Chloe’s good, it’s that she doesn’t want it to end.

(Though rarely does it end after just one orgasm from Beca.)

She savors Beca’s voice in her ears and taste on her tongue and eases her down from her quick, surprisingly intense climax.

Though maybe not so surprising when she thinks about how desperate Beca had been after her little game of Scarlet Says. Which reminds her…

“Get up.” She says it with an edge to her voice as she sits up and moves back from between Beca’s legs.

It’s clear Beca’s startled by the sudden mood change and her eyes are wide as she stares down her half-naked body, chest still heaving as she’s not yet recovered. “Dude, what the fuck?” she bites. She’s not just startled, she’s incensed by Chloe ripping away from her the way she did. It’s not normal behavior by any means.

It’s precarious; Chloe knows it. She’s springing some kind of role-play on Beca without talking about it first and she’s ready to drop it if Beca pushes back again. She levels her gaze to look directly at Beca. “I told you to get up.”

There’s the slightest twitch to Beca’s lips and Chloe knows she’s realized what’s happening. With a nod, she sits up and somewhat tiredly pushes herself up to her feet and turns around to face Chloe.

Chloe eyes her as she gets herself situated on the couch, turning to sit properly and makes a bit of a show of crossing her legs primly. She’s still fully clothed unlike her girlfriend waiting for directions wearing nothing but her half-unbuttoned sheer blouse that stops at her hips.

“I didn’t realize you like being told what to do so much,” Chloe says airly. She wants to keep Beca unsteady. They’ve played with power dynamics in the bedroom before, of course. After this long, there’s not much they haven’t tried. But they had never pushed it to the point of commands and obedience. “I guess I’m not that surprised,” she continues, smiling at memories of how Beca had reacted to simple requests in the bedroom in the past. She hadn’t explored it further. There wasn’t a need to; someone usually came minutes later. Now she understands why.

Beca takes a breath like she’s about to speak but instead snaps her jaw closed.

It makes Chloe’s eyebrows lift. She hadn’t had to do much of anything and Beca has already fallen into her role, primed, no doubt, by the events at the burlesque show.

“Did you like that woman touching you?” she asks. When Beca doesn’t answer, she has to work not to smile. “You can answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” Beca answers. “I thought they were just going to ask me questions and give me a lap dance or something.”

Chloe finds it endearing the way Beca’s trying to defend herself. Chloe’s not upset about it; a hair bothered, maybe, but nothing worth getting mad about. Possessive, though...it’s definitely worth reminding Beca who’s been in her bed every night. “That isn’t what I asked,” Chloe says as she leans back casually. “I asked if you liked it when that woman touched you.”

She can see Beca trying to choose the right words, which is amusingly telling. “It was...fun,” is what she decides to answer.

Chloe looks at her in surprise. “Fun? I’ll show you fun. On your knees.” She snaps and points at the floor as she says it and watches as Beca sinks to kneel obediently on the plush carpet. It’s thrilling to watch and does more for her than she thought it would. “Come here,” she continues with a crook of her finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca says as she shuffles forward until she’s as close as she can be, Chloe’s right leg crossed over the left stopping her from getting any closer. 

Her response is spine-tingling. Chloe wants to draw this out; she wants to see just how obedient Beca can be, but her patience is thin after being so aroused for so long with no release. She can save that for another day. “Would you like to know what I want you to do?” She teases Beca’s bare stomach with her toe as she says it.

“I bet you’re about to tell me,” Beca says as she squirms a little; she’s ticklish there and Chloe knows it.

“Sassy.”

Beca shrugs.

“Let’s give your mouth something better to do.” She uncrosses her legs as she says it and enjoys the way Beca’s eyes fall automatically to look, though Chloe knows she can’t see anything. Not with her skirt resting how it is. “You ruined my underwear at the show. The least you could do is take them off me.”

She can see the way Beca’s eyelashes flutter; she’s excited and ready as she reaches for Chloe, hands sliding up her thighs to hook her fingers into the waistband of Chloe’s thong to pull it down. She lifts her hips to let it slip out from under her and watches Beca pull it the rest of the way down her legs until she’s tossing it over her shoulder with more confidence than someone ordered to her knees ought to have, but Chloe doesn’t mind. Not when Beca’s hands almost reach for Chloe’s thighs again but stops herself and they fall back to her own naked lap.

“So patient,” Chloe smiles. Beca giving up control like this is turning Chloe on far more than she had expected and she knows she isn’t going to last very long. She parts her knees and hikes up her skirt. Not too much. Just enough that Beca will be able to see how much she needs her. “But I’m not.”

Beca’s eyes snap up to meet Chloe’s and she can see the excitement in them, the desire to please Chloe in more ways than one.

“I want you to make me come”—she pauses to glance at her non-existent watch—“in less than five minutes.” When Beca doesn’t move, she adds, “The clock is ticking.”

She can tell Beca is amused by the challenge, even excited by it as her hands do what they had probably meant to do after stripping Chloe of her underwear: land on Chloe’s knees to part them before they slide higher, pushing Chloe’s skirt with them.

Chloe leans back, relaxing into the couch as she spreads her legs wider until she decides to bring her right foot up to rest on the edge of the couch, knee fully bent, holding her ankle to keep it there. It opens her up splendidly and she watches with rapt attention as Beca shifts closer, tongue already at her lips as she leans down.

Chloe can’t help the moan that comes with the first touch of Beca’s tongue. She’s been waiting for it for hours, really since they left the hotel to attend the show. 

Beca seems to take her directive seriously if the way she’s using her tongue is anything to judge by. She’s lapping at Chloe in exactly the way Chloe likes it the most: messy and lewd, her arousal audible in the way her clit slips from Beca’s lips when she sucks on it. She likes it because Beca’s so passionate about making her feel good, and her passion only makes Chloe want it more.

She weaves the fingers of her free hand through Beca’s soft hair, watching as Beca fucks her perfectly. “Just like that,” she sighs as she lets her hips start rocking. “Use your fingers, too, baby.”

They both groan as Beca sinks two fingers into her and she clenches around them. As soon as she relaxes, Beca is fucking her, hard, and it makes her gasp. She hadn’t been ready for that, forgetting for a moment about her self-imposed deadline.

“Beca, fuck,” she moans, ass coming off the couch from the sudden onslaught of pleasure and she watches as Beca ducks her shoulder under the leg Chloe isn’t holding so she can tuck herself even closer. Her fingers twist in Beca’s hair and it might be too tight but it doesn’t seem to bother her. “So good,” she says and feels Beca’s tongue flicking at her clit impossibly faster. “You’re so good,” she repeats and feels her fingers speed up, too.

She knows Beca likes being praised. It’s served them both very well in the past and it’s serving Chloe impeccably well right now. Beca moans at the comment and glances up at Chloe through dark eyelashes, eyes meeting before she closes them to lose herself in fucking Chloe.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with the way Beca starts sucking on her clit and doesn’t let up. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she moans again, grateful for the massive room offering plenty of insulation from the prying ears of the only other room on that floor. “You’re gonna make me come, Beca.”

Beca groans in response and doesn’t change a thing; her pace is relentless and Chloe can feel how hot her body is under her leg from working so hard and she’s so, so grateful for her hard work as her orgasm crashes through her.

Beca’s moaning through it with her and it makes Chloe drop the pretense. She wants Beca. Now. Her cunt is still pulsing around Beca’s fingers when she pulls her up by her hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the point.

“Come here,” she breathes, pulling Beca in to kiss her wet mouth as she drops her leg back to hang over the edge of the couch and make room for Beca to climb into her lap, straddling her on her knees.

Beca’s hand hasn’t left her with the change in position and though she has less room to move, she’s still working her fingers against Chloe’s overstimulated clit as Chloe reaches between Beca’s legs to slide her fingers into her soaked cunt.

The way Beca moans into Chloe’s mouth through their heated kiss is sinful but not as sinful as the way she immediately starts riding Chloe’s hand. Her hand tangles in Chloe’s hair as her hips roll and grind, all restraint gone as she chases her orgasm.

She’s so far gone that she’s not paying close attention to how hard she’s touching Chloe. It’s borderline painful for a few seconds until something in Chloe clicks and the force becomes delicious and somehow not enough. She grinds the heel of her hand up into Beca, slipping a third finger into her with how wet she’s become, dripping into Chloe’s palm and Chloe knows she’s just as wet. She’s thankful she’s sitting on her skirt. She’d rather pay to dry clean it than reupholster the hotel couch.

“Fuck,” Beca whimpers against Chloe’s lips before her hips suddenly change from riding Chloe’s fingers hard to riding them fast.

Chloe can feel how close she is with the way she’s starting to tremble around her fingers. Beca’s fighting it and she doesn’t know why until she thinks maybe Beca hasn’t dropped the pretense like Chloe had.

She’s waiting for permission.

The concept quickly spools Chloe’s orgasm into a coil ready to spring at any second and she has to fight it, too.

This is hot. This is really hot. She loves when Beca is wild and desperate and there are no other words to describe her right now.

Chloe pulls back from the kiss. “Do you want to come?”

Beca’s jaw drops at the words and Chloe feels her clench hard but the climax doesn’t follow as it normally would. “God, yes,” she exhales after a few seconds. Beca is still fucking them both. Riding Chloe’s fingers. Rubbing Chloe’s clit.

Chloe’s free hand catches Beca’s chin and lifts her head to make eye contact with her. “Ask me nicely.”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt Beca as wet as she is tonight and it doesn’t stop. She thinks she can even feel it increase as soon as she says those words.

“Please,” Beca whines immediately. “Please let me come for you.” She holds Chloe’s stare as she says it and she tightens around Chloe’s fingers again.

Chloe hesitates with her answer. The moment is so intense, so erotic she’s not quite ready to end it. They’re existing on another plane of sex than most of their nights. She hopes it continues through the night.

“Not yet,” she finally answers and Beca almost sobs at the response. “Stand up,” she demands, lifting with the hand between Beca’s legs until Beca’s moving.

“What…?” Beca starts, only to say, “Oh, my God,” when Chloe guides Beca’s left knee up and past her head to rest on the back of the couch.

Chloe pulls her forward with the fingers inside her until she has Beca’s clit against her tongue. Beca’s hands immediately fall to Chloe’s head for balance as she rocks her hips forward into Chloe’s face.

It’s Chloe’s turn to be brutal with the pace of her fingers, fucking up and into Beca as she lets Beca ride her tongue. She knows Beca’s orgasm is going to be massive when she lets her have it and Chloe wants her coming in her mouth.

The change in position bought them a few minutes, distracting Beca long enough that she’s not about to lose it any second but Chloe knows it’s barreling down on her again. “You taste so good,” she says between licks.

Beca moans in answer and Chloe feels the wetness increase again. She can hear it, too. It’s obscene. It sends her other hand between her own legs to pick up where Beca left off.

“I’m going to make myself come,” she says before sucking pointedly on Beca’s clit. “Don’t you dare come with me.”

“What?” Beca laughs somewhat desperately. “Fuck, okay.”

The obedience makes Chloe moan and she fucks herself, rubbing hard circles into her clit. She embellishes her moans to make it even harder for Beca to resist until she’s moaning again and again into Beca’s pussy, coming as Beca clenches around her wantonly. 

She looks up at Beca when it passes but she can’t see her face, not with how Beca’s leaning forward, eyes squeezed closed, face determined and desperate to obey as Chloe comes without her, still fucking her, not letting her let go.

“That felt so good,” she says. “You turn me on so much, Beca.”

“Yeah, same,” Beca answers quickly.

“I think after I let you come…” she says it thoughtfully even as she lavishes attention on Beca’s impossibly swollen clit, “I’m going to take you to bed,” she gives it a long suck, “bend you over,” she curls her fingers and massages them into the spot that makes Beca’s eyes roll back, “and fuck you so hard you’ll feel it at your show tomorrow,” Beca’s entire body is trembling with the need for release, “in front of twelve thousand people and you’ll remember the way you’re going to be such a good girl for me and take my strap all night.”

She knows Beca’s losing her grip on her orgasm. Chloe can feel it starting, pulsing around her fingers and she thinks she might need it as much as Beca does.

“Come for me, Beca,” she says and immediately slides her tongue into her as she withdraws her fingers, using them instead to stroke her clit. She can see Beca’s wetness and how it’s all the way to Chloe’s wrist and she groans as the way Beca’s cunt contracts so hard around her tongue she couldn’t remove it even if she wanted to.

‘Massive’ isn’t the term for it.

Beca’s orgasm is earth-shattering and Chloe’s free hand has to shoot up to press against her chest to keep her from toppling forward and over the back of the couch as it rocks her again and again, voice ringing in Chloe’s ears.

Chloe feels Beca’s knees buckling as it passes and she catches her as she folds until she’s sitting in Chloe’s lap again, slumped against her forehead-to-forehead. Both of them are breathless but Beca’s far more winded and Chloe gives her a chance to recover, hands moving slowly and gently over her back, to her hair which she lifts away from her neck to help her cool down. Her blouse sticks to her skin and she feels kind of bad she didn’t let Beca take it off before, but she hasn’t complained about it.

“Fuck,” Beca finally says with a weak laugh as she lifts her head and sits back enough that they can look at each other comfortably, her hands toying with the hem of Chloe’s shirt, still on despite it all. “What the fuck, Chlo?” She smiles as she says it. She brings her hand up to wipe at Chloe’s face. “You’re a mess.”

Chloe smiles in return and lets Beca clean her off. “Problem?”

Beca cocks her head to the side and huffs again, not quite a laugh. “Uh, no. But can you take this off now? You’re overdressed.” She tugs at Chloe’s shirt and Chloe lets her remove it, lifting her arms so she can slip it over her head.

“Better?” she asks, even though she knows it’s definitely better. Her body is on fire and the cool air is a godsend.

“Much,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s shirt aside to rest her hands on her bare shoulders.

“So,” Chloe starts after a few comfortable seconds of silence, hands wandering around Beca’s ass to her waist where she finally finishes unbuttoning Beca’s shirt. “Still think it was fun to be touched by that other woman?” She cocks an eyebrow as she says it.

She knows Beca knows she is the one in control of what happens next; they both know what will happen depending on her answer. One answer will send them to the bedroom and Beca onto all-fours. The other will send them to the shower to clean up while they wait for room service to bring them something to eat.

Beca rakes her hands through her own wild hair after she lets Chloe flip her shirt over her shoulders and off to leave her fully naked in Chloe’s lap. Her eyes are still dark, as are her well-kissed lips which start to curve into a smile. “Yeah, I had a great time. I wonder if she’s free. Maybe we could invite her to join us?”

“Fuck you,” Chloe laughs before kissing her. “Hold on,” she mumbles against her lips and feels Beca wrap her arms around Chloe’s neck and her legs around her waist so she can stand to carry Beca to the bedroom.

“Make me feel it tomorrow,” Beca whispers before kissing her as they cross the threshold into the bedroom.

Chloe drops her onto the bed with a smile. “You will. Turn around.”

The End

[spinster-sisters]

Sunflower. Pt.2 LTY

Warnings: there is some mild sexy time thing but lemme tell you this relationship is toxic as fuck and get pretty heavy on the verbal fights so please don’t read if you are senstive to this kind of stuff.

THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG

The minutes ticked slowly by on the clock.

You didn’t dare check the time, scared of how late it was, and how early you had to wake up in the morning. You were now in your senior year at university, and it took no genius to notice you had been somewhat distracted over the past year or so. And your grades took the fall for it, so here you were at the ungodly hours of the night, juggling fixing your grades and working at your part-time job.

And speaking of distractions, you hadn’t seen Taeyong in 5 days. He, as far as you knew, was in a similar boat, having put off school in favor of parties and drinking, he was somewhat distant to everyone that past week or so. You are fairly certain that the only people who he has even seen the past couple of days are his two best friends, Johnny and Jaehyun.

You had met them both a couple of times before, and they were very similar to Taeyong himself, though you had to admit, they were a bit nicer. But you had never gotten to close with them, certainly not close enough to ask about their friend. (Who you weren’t even dating)

As the hours went by you found your mind straying farther and farther away from the material of the book laid out in front of you, instead of to the beautiful man who had your heart. You were worried about him, you missed him. Your mind thought of the last time you had seen him. It had been at the last college football match, and since you hung around in similar circles your two groups of friends often sat near each other at these kinds of things. Not that he sat next to you, no way in hell. He kept his distance laughing and joking with his friends, barely glancing your direction. But you hardly even looked at the game, instead choosing to watch the expressions of the heavenly man only a few rows away. He had been wearing a graphic T, which had hung loosely of his lean shoulders,  and was tucked into his jeans. Your friends sitting next to you would elbow you in the ribs now and then notify you of something happening in the game, but not even the roaring crowd of thousands of happy college students could make you drag your eyes away from Taeyong as he jumped up, elated like his friends.

As the game came to a close you pleaded silently that the two groups of friends would stay together for the after-party, but your roommate (the person most aware of your infatuation) pulled you away from the festivities reminding you of the many hours of homework ahead of you that evening.

The party, you heard, was an eventful one. There were whispers through the grapevine that some disgruntled players from the opposing school found their way to the party and (though there are about 15 different versions of the story) Taeyong was the main reason 2 of them left with a black eye. You don’t know how much you believe that, Taeyong was many things but violent was not one of them, but it worried you none the less. Especially since he has been MIA since that night. I mean, what if he got hurt? What if he was in the hospital?

You pulled your mind out of the speeding train of thought. Your eyes were burning after staring at the pages of your textbook in the dim light for so long, and lateness of the hour only added to the heaviness of your lids. Not to mention the hard surface of your cheap desk and chair were a great discomfort to your aching bones after the long shift you had finished not 4 hours before. You finally gave yourself the relife of rubbing your bloodshot eyes and stretching your crackling spine. Now you looked at the clock next to you on the cheap yellow wood of your desk.

2:13 am.

As though the number themselves triggered it, you opened your mouth in a shaking yawn that moved its way through your body in waves.  The exhaustion and desire for sleep were so severe you wondered whether you would make it all the way to your bed about 4 feet away. After coming to the realization that continuing to stare blankly again at your textbook would change nothing, you moved to stand up, lifting your arms above your head and arching your back side to side feeling the pleasant cracks. But your movements twords your bed were halted by your phone notification flashing. Lifting your phone closer to your head, straining your tired eyes you read. It was a simple question from your friend about your plans the next day (something you planned on replying to tomorrow morning) but the alert sent a thought to your brain.

Maybe you should call him.

You don’t know why this came into your head, it’s not like he had the best track record for answering you, and it’s not like he is likely to respond after being away for so long. But your earlier thoughts and fears resurfaced in your head, enough so that you typed out a quick message to the man and sent it before you could think twice:

To: Taeyong

“Hey, don’t know where you’ve been but I missed you”

[2:15 am]

The train car stank slightly and rumbled severely, but the giddiness bubbling in your tummy at the thought of the day out with those closest to you had all negative thoughts pushed out of your mind. Soon the monotone robotic voice sounded over the PA informing you of your arrival. Your roommate took the both of you by the arms and safely guided the three of you off the stain and above ground. Though it was still early morning the sun shown brilliantly against the glass windows of the surrounding buildings.

Pushing the thoughts out of your brain you crawled into your bed.

———————————

The plans you and your friend had for the day was simple, heading into the city your campus was on the outskirts of. Both of you had been spending the past two weeks working your asses off so as a reward you, your best friend and your roommate were now sitting on the subway heading to the heart of the city.

Besides time and a meeting place, you and your two companions had no real plan for the day, instead, allowing the day to take you where it will. As the sun moved through the sky so did your group through the city, going from shop to shop or park to park, even possibly a wedding reception (though your roommate dragged you and your friend away before it could be considered “wedding crashing”)

As the day drew to a close, the sun finally falling behind the towers, your best friend had the sudden idea to do something daring. The day had been an all-round success and had even managed to keep Taeyong out of your mind for the past few hours which was a feat in itself, so you decided to indulge your friend and ask her what she had in mind.

You were stopped at a street corner outside a quaint looking coffee shop and the time for nightlife was just beginning. The three of you were stood in a circle and as your friend spoke she leaned in, giving her words a childish giddy tone.

“Let’s get tattoos!” she spoke in a whispered shout. You scoffed at the idea leaning back in disbelief.

“Why would I spend my hard-earned money to have someone draw on my skin?” you asked allowed, expecting to have your roommate, ever the sensible one, back you up. But after being met with silence your head whipped to her to see the pensive yet optimistic look on her face.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re ok with this?” You asked in disbelief, gesticulating madly in her direction. She gave you a sheepish smile and said;

“Well, it is our last year of undergrad, might as well do something to remember it” all the while speaking with a bashful smile on her face.

“What?!” you could not believe the words you were hearing. Looking back and forth between your two friends did nothing to ease the confusion on your head. But after staring at them for a minute, them looking determined, you spoke;

“I’ll come with you but don’t expect me to get anything” you spoke resolutely. At this your friend, the initiator of the idea refuted,

“No, absolutely not, we are doing this together or not at all!”  She looked defiant.

The longer you considered the darker it got and as much as you didn’t want to admit it you had been sort of detached from the people closest to you because of Taeyong and it sounded nice to be apart of the group again. You continued to mull it over for a few more moments before speaking apprehensively.

The day was now over and you were comfortably laying on your bed sprawled out over the covers like a starfish with a content smile etched onto your lips as you watched the blades of your ceiling fan revolve, listening to the gentle hum of voices from whatever your roommate was listening to in her room.

“Fine, something small”

———————

The parlor had been intimidating and severe but after walking out with a small sunflower tattoo on your right ribs (easily concealable in the future)  you felt like a new woman. The three of you pilled into the nearest public restroom to take an Instagram picture of your new “Ink” (as your friend so childishly put)

The peace was broken however when the blaring sound of your ring tone sounded through the room. Your heart jumped at the initial sound but you quickly calmed and reached out to answer it. Whatever spike your heart received at the ringtone was nothing compared to the jolt at the name flashing on your screen:

Taeyong

You stared blankly at it for a few moments before rushing to answer it, practically shooting upright on your bed while bringing your phone to your ear. The eagerness that boiled inside of you whenever you were around the beautiful man grew as you awaited the sound of his voice.

“Hello?” you said almost too quickly before the call completely connected. You half expected the kind of brooding silence he usually gave you to build anticipation when he called you for sex, but instead, he spoke almost as quickly as you did.

“Let me in” the voice was not the smooth or a rich as honey as it usually was, in fact, it was almost coarse and rough. But this fact did nothing to stop the growing need in your heart knowing he was so close.

You barely choked out a ‘sure’ before running to meet him. The fact you were barely covered in an oversized t-shirt you bought yourself and underwear and the fact that you did not tell your roommate what was happening did not cross your mind as your body acted practically of its own accord, flinging your front door open and running down the several flights of stairs to the main door. Only when you reached the main entrance did the state of your dress and the lateness of the hour occur to you. But you didn’t have time to be embarrassed with Taeyong on the other side of the door. Panting you pulled open the door.

The sight of him was as beautiful as always, to you, he carried a glow around him that made him stand out from everyone else. Your mind already fogging over from the proximity after being apart for so long. While you were starstruck at the sight of him, his eyes only narrowed as he looked you up and down once before shoving his way through the door. dazed, you allowed him to drag you wordlessly back up to your apartment by the vice grip he held on your wrist. The entire way up the stairs your eyes did not leave his back. Even in the thick hoodie he was wearing your eyes could almost see where the toned muscles of his back would be if you could see them, your mouth watered at the thought and your head swam with the desire to hold him as close to your body as possible. Taeyong gave you no such opportunity, instead of keeping himself at least 2 steps ahead of you, dragging you limply behind him.

When you finally made it back through the threshold of your apartment Taeyong kicked the door closed behind him a continued the pull you twords your room. Your roommate called out, “Y/N? What’s going on?” from her room, clearly still preoccupied with the TV show she was watching. You awoke from your daze the tinnies bit but before you could answer Taeyong spoke loudly in response:

“None of your damn business”

Pulling open the door to your room pushing you in ahead of him and slamming the door so forcefully you briefly thought it might break off the wall. Distantly, as though it was coming from underwater, you heard your roommate scoff as though unsurprised. But this was inconsequential to you right now, all your mind seemed to fully understand was Taeyong standing before you with a scowl etched on to his perfect features.

Normally Taeyong would take his time working you up to near insanity before acting but tonight he was a man on a mission, merely pushing you back onto the bed. You instinctively slid back till your back hit the wall but your eyes did not leave his. Honestly, it was rare to have his full undivided attention even when he was toying with you, but the penetrative stare made you feel as though he could see every inch of your body with x-ray vision and the sensation was intoxicating.

Taeyong wasted no time in climbing on top of you and caging your head between his arms. Your head was swimming, Taeyong, his weight pressing down on you and, his heavenly musk being the only thing any of your five senses you perceive. Your heart was racing a mile a minute and your throat constricted the closer he got. You’re sure he could feel the eagerness radiating off your body.

Taeyongs hand slid from their place on the mattress to the hem of your shirt and in one quick motion he pulled it off. An instant cold hit your now exposed chest, but after a year of encounters with Taeyong, you knew better than to cover your now hardening nipples from the cold air. But Taeyong didn’t seem to notice or care about your compliance with his tastes and rules, instead, his eyes were fixed, unmoving from the dark lines etched into your skin covered by the clear wrappings. His eyes swam with unrecognizable emotions but you, who are so attuned to him, knew after only a few seconds that he was not pleased with what he saw.

Your heart sank and dread-filled your chest, in a childish attempt to keep him from looking so disapprovingly at the mark you moved your hand to cover it. But the damage had been done.

The disapproving look did not leave his eyes as they slowly moved from the inky skin upwards to your hardening nipples. A low rumble came out of his chest as he moved you farther back onto the bed placing his body between your automatically parting legs. He moved his head closer and began leaving bites and bruises on your neck and chest.

You were in euphoria as the feeling of his wet plush lips moved up and down on your neck, leaving a cold slick trail in their wake. It did not take much for Taeyong to get you keening with desire, and though this was not his usual tactic of reducing you to putty by merely his words before even laying a finger on you, it was still working like a charm. As you looked down at your bodies pressed together and his beautiful hands sliding up and down your torso you had a feeling that he could feel the slick in your panties and the heat radiating off of them.

Eventually, Taeyong pulled back just enough to watch your expressions, one hand slowly slid from its place on your waist up your body to the roots of your hair, and the other slid lower, trailing the skin above your panties briefly before slipping into them. At first, he did nothing but stare at you. You were panting with anticipation, practically mewling at the mere thought of him. You are sure the desperation could be seen in your eyes, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to know how much he means to you especially in this way where no other man could give you the same satisfaction.

His hand was cold where it sat securely cupping your heat, your body started to buck slightly into his hand, pleading him to just do something.

“How badly do you need it?” He questioned allowed in a surprisingly amused voice. You whined out a response and bucked your hips once more into his hand.

“That’s, not an answer baby,” He remarked casually as the heat the pooled in your abdomen burned even stronger, sweat was beginning to form on your brow as your body worked itself up into a fervor. You wanted him more than anything you have ever wanted before. Your head swam with thoughts, but the only discernable thing in them was the face of the godly man before you, who glowed in the yellow lights of your bedroom.

“I need it so bad Tae” You spoke, your voice came out raspy.

“And who do you want to give it to you?”  He asked, finally moving his hand the slightest bit to slid between your folds. Your breath hitched so severely that you nearly choked. And when one long slender finger found it’s purchase providing your entrance you lost the ability to breathe at all.

It felt like you had done hard drugs with how intensely your mind spun. Every inch of your body tingled with desire for Taeyong.

“You, Taeyong, please” You pleaded so desperately, closing your eyes to shield yourself from the powerful glow that radiated off of him. But just when you thought he would grace you with the pleasure you so desperately desired, his hand pulled away and out of your panties abruptly. A pitiful whine so long and drawn out it was shameful, escaped your lips as your body attempted to curl in on itself to fill the spot where Taeyongs hand was not moments ago, but his lean body was still positioned over yours keeping you in place. The hand that had been in your hair tightened dangerously as he forced your dazed eyes to meet his clear ones.

“So just to be clear,” he spoke in his scarily dominating voice, “You need me” He spoke every word with such a definitive tone. Your eyes had gone wide in shock after the initial stupor and feeling of emptiness subsided. You pressed your back into the mattress and nodded at him, after all, it was true.

Taeyong leaned back onto his heels, still kneeling on the bed, still keeping you securely beneath him.

“When I saw it on Instagram I hoped it was a joke.” He stated plainly, crossing his arms after gesturing vaguely to the marks on your stomach. The disappointment that dripped from every word made you want to crawl deeper and deeper into the blankets. You had disappointed him, you shouldn’t have let your friends talk you into getting it.

“And to think I was going to reward you next time I saw you.”  you burned with embarrassment.

“And what exactly were you thinking” He accused, leaning back over you with a severity you had never heard in his voice. The shame was unbearable.

“Marking up your skin?” He nearly spat at you. You felt awful like you had failed him, the only person who mattered to you at all. But in his next words, his voice shifted to a sickly sweet tone.

“My baby girl doing something like this without asking me?” He asked allowed as if it was a scandalizing thing for you to do.

But his words caused something to snap in you. You were coming down from the dazed high that seemed to permeate your brain whenever Taeyong was around. You felt hurt and cut deep, and possibly for the first time, a twinge of anger rose in your chest as his accusatory glare still shown down on you.  

Your face hardened as the anger rose. Fuck this.

You forced yourself into a sitting position and pulled your discarded shirt over your head. Taeyong was thrown off balance by this and fell slightly onto the bed. His face held shock but anger was still the predominant emotion as he pushed himself off the bed to stand on the floor in front of you.

You had never acted out against him before so both of you seem equally surprised at your actions and certainly, neither of you knew what you were going to do next. Your brain was still quite a bit fuzzy but was gaining clarity quickly but the only thing you truly felt at this moment was, for the first time, you wanted Taeyong out. So that’s what you went with.

“Leave” you demanded simply, breaking eye contact with his smoldering gaze. Even as you spoke a significant portion of your hear was calling out to you to stop. To not let yourself push away the man you craved so intently. Taeyong made no move to leave only raising an eyebrow. You could tell that he was not taking you seriously, as he never has, so you repeated yourself, firmer and meeting his eyes.

“Leave”

“I’m not going to do that” he replies cooly, it was clear to him that he still held the power in this interaction and he was determined to keep it.

“Now how bout you tell me what’s bothering you so I can get back to dealing with this little act of defiance,” he remarks, causally gesturing to the patch of skin beneath your shirt. He was treating you like a child. Like a dumb little girl throwing a tantrum. You began to seeth where you sat staring up at him. He made a move to reach out to you but you shoved his hand away. Fixing your face with a determined expression.

“Taeyong, get the fuck out of my apartment,”  The mild amusement in his face disappeared. His eyes darkened dangerously, a sign you had become accustomed to. He was getting angry as well, but he still made no move to leave. The longer he stood there to more your blood boiled and the more you glared at each other the higher the tension rose.

“Watch your mouth, babe” He growled at you.

“Don’t tell me what to do Taeyong” You said raising your voice and pushing yourself off the bed to face him. You had never been anything but compliant with him, scared to lose whatever affection he had for you. Even in the moments he frustrated you or broke your heart you would still obey his every command because the idea of being without those few minutes with him was worse than enduring the hours of pain that he caused. But now as you stand here you could not stop the flow of words escaping your mouth, though deep in your heart you knew you would regret them later.

“Do not tell me what to do Taeyong. I am sick and tired of this shit! You come into my life, maybe twice a week if I’m lucky, fuck around with me and my emotions, make demands, make me act a certain way, only to leave me and disappear for days! and yet I still come running any time you call just for the chance to be in your presence. You treat me like I am a child and even when I am with you it’s like I am the 3rd thing on your priorities list!”

You took a panting breath.

“God fucking damn it Taeyong, you have stopped in the middle of fucking me just to go off to some party and you think you have the right to come in here and take ownership of my body?” You screamed out every word at him and with every word his face hardened.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I have the right, I know I do” he growled out, “Because in case you haven’t noticed it is you that comes crawling back not me, it is you who hangs on every word I say, it is you who fell in love with me.” Spat out at you, voice dripping with malice.

“Yes I do treat you like a child because you are one, it’s like you are completely dependent on me and its pathetic! You call me and text me every fucking hour of the day like it’s my job to listen to your cries. I have better things to do than comfort you over every tinny inconvenience.” His speech was filled with more emotion than you had ever heard come out of him, and honestly, you wanted more.

“Fuck off Taeyong” You spat turning away from him and staring out your window.

“Oh, no no no, you wanted to fight, now we are going to fight!” He practically roars at your back, stepping closer to you where you stood your ground.

“You are the neediest and most obsessed person I ever meet. Remember I don’t need you, I really fucking don’t. And yet you get crazy every time I don’t talk to you for a day, what the fuck was that by the way 'Hey, don’t know where you’ve been but I missed you’ If I thought it was important that you knew where I was I would have fucking told you. I don’t fucking love you so why are you so obsessed with me”  He calls out to you. You rounded on him.

“Do not act like you didn’t want me to fall for you possessive son of a bitch! You were so scared of sharing your toys you made it a point to make me care about you so that others would stay away!”

Your voices were getting louder and louder with each passing jab.

“Yeah, I don’t like sharing! I never said I was a good guy Y/N, I don’t give a fuck about your feelings but I will be fucking damned if I let some random ass guy of the street touch you or let you put black shit in your skin! I know you better than anyone and you know what the best part is? It will fucking stay that way, cuz I know that right now you are just eating up all the attention I am giving you aren’t you, you pathetic bitch!

Just as he was about to continue the door was thrown open and your roommate stocked into the room. Her expression was hard and emotionless. She marched right up to where Taeyong stood motionless, grabbed the man by the collar and flung him twords the door. She spoke with the kind of finality that sent shivers down your spine.

"Taeyong, its time your you to leave.”

After processing her words he gave her a quick once over as if deciding if it was worth fighting. And as he turned and walked out the door you had the sinking realization had he had decided that you were not worth the trouble.

After the sound of the front door opening and closing your roommate turned to were you stood and addressed you for the first time.

“are you alright?”

It occurred to you now for the first time that you were crying. Because Taeyong was right, you did like it in those moments where it seemed for the first time that you were truly the sole object of his attention.

[somersetmummy]

(A/N): This fic is part three of the continuation of the story taking place following book 1 chapter 11 (after being rescued by Sam from Sofia's closet). I’m sorry this took so long post, I’ve been dealing with some things in real life and unfortunately writing fell to the bottom of the list!

Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair (M!Sam Dalton x MC Katie Hide)

Original characters - all property of PB: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Jenny Blake, Robin Flores

New characters: (present in part 3 but not mentioned by name) Serena-Rose Warren, Tessa Finch, Lucinda Hansen

Rating/Content warning: 15+ (a little bit of lust & desire, a few naughty words but nothing graphic)

Word Count: Around 3000, I lost count!

Summary: While out with her friends, Katie bumps into a familiar face, will the night lead her home to Sam or elsewhere?

- Scroll to the bottom for bonus text messages and group chat -

Part Three

As the newest bar on the New York social scene, Atlas had drawn quite a crowd. Hopeful revellers huddle together in the queue outside teased by the sound of merriment within each time the door opens for one of the guest list elite. Katie tentatively approaches the doorman, politely name dropping her way in, wondering to herself in disbelief how this is in fact her life.

Once inside, the unmistakable energy of Jenny and the gang pulls her towards their table in the middle of the room, a melting pot of silken hair, sequins and stilettos, it's hard not to be captivated by the glamorous group she calls her friends.

As she cautiously makes a beeline for the table Jenny notices her approaching, her face lighting up in recognition of her friend. Looking effortlessly edgy as usual, her short dark hair matches the black silk tank top tucked into a feathered black mini skirt. She eyes Katie and unapologetically wolf whistles in her direction.

With her new found confidence, Katie removes her jacket and saunters over to her friends, inwardly basking in the attention of several male pairs of eyes drinking her in along the way. While skimming through the crowd, a blush spreads delicately across her neck and cheeks as she feels one pair of eyes in particular playing close attention. Before she can take a good look around she's embraced by an overly enthusiastic Jenny, almost knocking the wind out of her.

Grinning sincerely back at Jenny, she then moves to Lucinda, Serena and Tess in turn, hugging them tightly and instantly feeling herself relax more than she has done in months, all memories of the drama of her new life checked at the door.

When she had first moved from England for her grad programme, Katie met Jenny almost immediately. One unsuspecting Sunday morning, having escaped the deafening throbbing of heavy bass coming through the wall she shared with her neighbour, Katie was in need of a quiet space to seek refuge and study. She came across an unimposing coffee shop a few blocks away and was immediately drawn to the homey interior as she gazed through the window. As she stepped in, calm washed over her, it felt like home. Settled with her head in her books, it wasn't long before a tornado of colour, energy and expletives tore its way across the room towards her. Jenny.

Taken aback by the intrusion, Katie sat in dismay as this whirlwind of a person rambled on about needing some kind of cover story for being there as her ex sat at the other end of the room with a decidedly less chaotic redhead in his arms. Katie graciously agreed to play along and let Jenny sit with her. It wasn't long before the ex was forgotten as the two women got caught up in conversation, the more they learned about each other the more they found that despite being complete opposites, they blended effortlessly. From that day on, Jenny had taken Katie under her wing and the rest, as they say, is history.

A few minutes after settling on the tall metal stools at the pristine granite topped table, a bucket of Dom Perignon on ice arrives along with 5 glasses. The group look to one another, perplexed, nobody owning up to the extravagant order.

"With compliments of Mr Dalton..." the bartender explains before turning to head back to the heaving bar.

With only Jenny knowing the truth about her as yet un-named relationship with Sam, the rest of the girls just assume it's part of his flashy, rich guy MO, unaware that there could be any other meaning to this gesture than of him having the means to do something nice for his hard working nanny. Jenny on the other hand is about as subtle as a brick and leans in immediately, at least with the decency to lower her voice to a whisper.

"Someone's wanting to impress your friends...and it's working!!"

As Katie throws daggers at Jenny in response, she can't stop her lips from curling in amusement. Turning to take one of the glasses and join in with their toast to friendship, she feels a warmth radiating from her heart reminding of the incredible man waiting for her at home.

After a couple of hours of conversation and countless cocktails, the friends make their way down the stairs to the packed club in the basement, the chic modern décor highlighted by atmospheric blue lighting illuminating the room.

As she slips through the throngs of people to the middle of the dance floor Katie once again feels like someone is watching but can't pinpoint where they might be in the crowd, instead shrugging it off and throwing herself into dancing with the girls.

Unbeknown to her, the pair of dazzling green eyes which she felt boring into her belong to a very familiar face, still watching with a bemused smile as she dances sultrily to the rhythm of the music.

Completely entranced and thoroughly enjoying the view, Robin, who had been leaning against one of the VIP booths at the back of the room with a drink in hand, can't help but pull his phone out and capture the moment on camera.

His favourite past time of getting one over on his semi-brother had never been easier since meeting Katie. He'd quickly realised that flirting with her was a sure fire way to get under Sam's skin. Without a second thought, his fingers get to work tapping away on his phone's screen. As expected, a barrage of messages are swiftly returned warning him against doing anything remotely 'Robin'.

Rolling his eyes and with a heightened sense of determination, he pockets his phone and downs the rest of his drink licking the lingering taste of whiskey from his lips. He has no intention of listening to his brother's warning to stay away, after all Sam isn't here and surely what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Completely oblivious to him moving towards her, he cuts through the crowed with laser precision until he's standing a hairs breath away from the delicious porcelain skin of her back. Her cheeks once again tingle with blush and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels the same, now familiar, gaze upon her once more. This time the intensity courses through her body, urging her to turn around.

Cautiously spinning on her heel, a short gasp stifled by a giggle escapes her as her eyes lock on Robin's mischievous grin. He beams at her, challenging her as his hands reach shamelessly for her waist.

"You look amazing out here," he quips, "but I think this song sounds better when you're dancing with someone."

Her cocktail induced daze prevents her from thinking about objecting. Instead, rising to his challenge, she throws him a playful smile and turns back around, pressing her hips into his crotch and swaying seductively to the music.

His hands delicately slide up from her waist, his fingertips stroking the bare skin of her back before caressing her neck and finally moving up her arms to meet with her hands which skim through the air as she sways. Their fingers interlock as he pulls her arms back down to her hips, spinning her round to face him, both breathless.

Instinctively she throws her arms around his neck while his swiftly fall to the small of her back, igniting small sparks up and down her spine.

Robin can't quite believe his luck and thanks his lucky stars that he accepted the last minute invitation to join some old friends at the hottest new bar in town, when what he had really wanted to do after his long day was go home and order pizza.

They move to the music together for a few songs, comfortable with each other's presence and both enjoying the close attention they so rarely receive from anyone else.

Perhaps it's because of their shared experience of looking in on the Dalton's world from the sidelines, but there's something so familiar and natural about being this close to Robin and a kind of ease she's never felt with any man before.

Sure, Sam insists that there is something real between them, she feels it too and their undeniable magnetism between proves there's a connection. But he's never committed 100% to her, at the end of each day he still goes to bed engaged to someone else and she can't help sometimes feeling like she's just an observer to his life.

Lost in their blissful cocoon, it isn't until another pair of hands snake around her waist that she is reminded of where they are. Warm breath from lipgloss stained lips tickles her ear causing her to take a step back from Robin, sobering her to their surroundings.

"Babe, we're heading over to the bar for a refresh, time to leave lover boy!"

Jenny winks at Robin, unapologetically looking him over like he's a piece of meat she wants to devour. She clearly doesn't realise that 'lover boy' is in fact Sam's brother, a fact which Katie doesn't intend to share. She can only imagine the probing that would follow if Jenny knew the truth.

"I'll be right there."

She offers a gentle push to Jenny's rear, encouraging her to move on. Fortunately she complies and slinks off towards the bar, not before giving an impressed nod, clearly approving of Katie's dancing partner.

Turning back to Robin, the space between them has grown and the anticipation in the air dissipated as they reluctantly realise their time together has come to an end.

Without missing a beat, Robin flashes a devilish smile as he steps close once again, reaching for her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Until next time Katie..."

He shifts even closer causing her heart to skip a beat. His hand caressing her cheek as it slides through her delicate tresses tilting her head upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into hers for what fees like an eternity before his lips tantalisingly brush against her ear.

"Unless you want to take this back to my place?"

Her breath catches as a warm glow rushes through her veins. The question hangs in the air around them like a fog clouding her judgement.

Of the two brothers, Robin is by far the easier choice, he is after all available without any strings attached.

His stature is much the same as Sam's, his skin slightly lighter, with a similar warm tone. But the eyes....those dazzling emerald green eyes which she could get lost in, framed by delicate laughter lines painted across his beautiful face. His relaxed demeanour and ability to always smile no matter what is going on around him is infectious.

Yes, being with Robin would be easier, life simpler and undoubtedly endlessly fun but as she stares back into those hypnotising green eyes, their foreheads touching, she realises with a pang in her heart that it undeniably belongs to someone else.

In defeat she licks her lips, a small movement which immediately captures Robin's attention, and shakes her head in reply.

"Oh Robin, as tempting as that sounds, I think we'd be wise to go out separate ways tonight."

He returns her smile with a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I guess I'll just have to wait until next time"

Winking, he slips away into the crowd like a ghost and for a moment she wonders whether he was even there at all.

After making her way back to the penthouse in a daze, Katie gingerly steps out of the elevator, tiptoeing carefully down the hall. Her heart skips a beat as she catches sight of Sam fast asleep on the couch.

She can't help but smile to herself as her eyes trace the outline of his sleeping body, that magnetism she so often feels when she’s around him pulling her across the room until she's standing over him.

He looks beautiful, peaceful, almost vulnerable. She realises she's never seen him sleep before and hopes it’s not too creepy to stay and watch him for a few minutes as she slinks down to sit on the footstool between the couch and the coffee table, her knees brushing against Sam's thighs.

Lying on his side, his strong arms are folded across his chest as if protecting himself like armour. His chiselled chest gently rises and falls with each breath, eyelashes fluttering delicately as he dreams, his lips slightly apart, tempting her to kiss them.

She leans closer to him, elbows resting on her bare knees. A curl of his dark silken hair has fallen in front of his eyes and she tenderly stroke it back across his forehead and he involuntarily smiles at her touch.

Staring down at this beautiful man a realisation rushes into her mind like a car speeding out of control. She is completely and utterly, hopelessly in love with Sam Dalton.

Mind slightly fuzzy, her cocktail induced confidence and new realisation makes her brave, encouraging her to gently press her lips to his while cupping his face with her warm hand. He responds immediately by sliding his arm around her waist, kissing back softly, still half asleep. She leans closer still, lips grazing the top of his ear, her voice a whisper.

"I'm home, it's late, you should've gone to bed."

His eyes flicker open, adoration pouring over her, his hand still clinging to her waist.

"I couldn't sleep until I knew you were home safe"

Her lips curl in amusement. "You do realise I’ve just woken you up right?!”

Laughing softly to himself, he sits up so his knees are touching hers and their eyes lock while they share a secret smile reserved only for each other. He runs his hand through his hair and checks the time on his Rolex.

"Oh man, I didn't realise it had gotten so late....did you have a good time with your friends?"

"It was amazing. I miss seeing them...as much as I love being here with you and the boys I've realised it's still good for me to have some time for myself."

He softly skims his hands up her thighs, his slightest touch stoking the fire within.

"Of course, I want that for you too."

Leaning in to one another, the air crackles between them, their night apart building as much desire as any foreplay. As the space between them closes, their breath tangles together. The drumming of their heartbeats the only sound they can hear, until the shrill cry of Katie’s phone cuts through the air.

Pausing with their foreheads resting together they both turn to stare at it willing it to stop, but the phones persistence echoes around the room as it continues to ring.

"That'll be Jenny checking I've got home...I'd better answer or she'll keep ringing." She sighs, hesitantly pulling away from Sam while lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hey Jen.”

Sam’s whole body slouches, visibly defeated. He shakes his head before lightly kissing her cheek as he stands, the moment regrettably over.

"Goodnight Katie" he sighs quietly, so only she hear.

Jenny animatedly chatters on about the hot cab driver who asked for her number, though Katie barely hears her as she zones out watching Sam's back retreating to the boys room to check on them before he goes to bed.

"Goodnight Sam" she sighs in resignation, her words swallowed by the now empty room.

TAG list: @shewillreadyou @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @chemist-ana

- Bonus -

Text messages between Katie and Sam after the champagne.

Text messages between Robin and Sam about Katie.

Girls group chat the morning after, completely unrelated, just for fun, just to show their dynamic!

[obeymefictionwriting]

The Master of Spells

The streets of the Devildom were busy as always: lessons have finished and students finally got time for themselves. Demons of all sorts were passing by; I noticed a few openly glaring at me but they were of no interest - in about ten minutes or so I was about to meet the best among them so why bother about the others and their unwanted attention?

I agreed to meet Satan near our bookstore (“our bookstore” - how cool does it sound?). I arrived a few minutes earlier but I was sure he’d be there too - and he was indeed. But not alone.

I froze as I looked at a beautiful woman placing her delicate hand on his shoulder. She was wearing an amazing dark-blue dress and her black hair was flowing on her open back. She had bright blue eyes, full red lips, and a smile that could charm the coldest heart. And there he was, looking in her eyes and smiling back!

Satan finally caught my eye and immediately shook her hand off his shoulder. She didn’t seem disappointed though; instead, she just blew him a kiss and vanished in the crowd.

He quickly walked to me and tried to hug me but I stepped back. By the faded smile on his face, I knew he understood what was wrong.

“Are you upset because of this girl?” He asked with a worried look on his face.

I bit my lip. I was ashamed of admitting I felt immensely jealous when I saw them together - when I saw how beautiful she was and what a great couple they made…

Of course, I spent a lot of time with Satan and I could swear he knew he meant more to me than a friend. But we never talked about it and he never officially asked me to date him. So maybe this whole relationship thing was just in my head and he saw me as a friend only? It was painful even to think about it but yet, seemed like it was true.

Satan was still looking into my eyes as if trying to find a hidden message under all my worries and sadness. I saw that he was genuinely worried about me and I felt it wasn’t right to make him feel this way. If he is happy, I am happy - that’s what friends are for, right?

“Everything is fine,” I smiled and he immediately smiled back. “Shall we come in? It’s a bit windy outside”.

“Better now?” He asked as he put his jacket on my shoulders. I immediately blushed. His jacket still kept the warmth of his body and its scent was a wonderful mix of coffee, cinnamon, and lime. Caring yet bold. Destructive yet so tender. This is what I loved about him so much - Satan successfully combined completely different personalities. He could be the most sarcastic and cold-hearted person in the room but then, within mere seconds, he smiles with such a warm smile it could melt me.

I sighed silently. As he was putting the jacket on, he put his hands on my shoulders and kept them there as if he wanted to protect me from any negative thoughts. More than anything did I want to stay like that but then I remembered the girl and the way he looked at her. So I gently stepped forward, releasing myself from his spell.

“Shall we go?”

When we got inside the bookstore, all my worries faded away. I have always loved reading and here, in Devildom, there were so many new and exciting books to discover! As I was wandering across the bookshelves, picking books one by one, I saw Satan looking at me in a sneaky manner and smiling with just the edges of his lips. But I was too excited with all my new books to think about that. I will give it a thought later when I go to bed. For now, I let myself loose and decided to just enjoy the moment.

We spent a few hours in the shop though it seemed like seconds. While standing at the counter, Satan asked “Mind if I pay for your books? I want to make you a present.”

He blushed a bit and I gazed in admiration at this sight. He got embarrassed for a second but immediately pulled himself together. After all, Satan was one of the most reserved and confident creatures I knew, apart from Lucifer of course. And Satan was a tough nut to crack: I never knew a hundred percent what was going on through his mind. I wanted to hope he liked me but I was never sure whether his words and actions were just friendship or something more than that.

Something that connected him and that girl?...

I shook my head, making the thoughts go away. Satan already bought the books and was waiting patiently at the doorway. His green eyes were piercing me as if he wanted to tell me something, but not a word left his lips. Silent and patient as always, he gently took my arm and we got out of the store, back to the busy Devildom streets, full of chattering students of all kinds.

“Want to eat something before we get home?”

“I don’t feel hungry yet,” I admitted. “Maybe we should head back. Oh and I promised Asmo I’d help him pick an outfit for the party - he must be waiting for me”

Satan seemed disappointed with my answer but did not object. When we got to the House of Lamentation, he helped me carry the books to my room and said he’d see me later. I saw that his thoughts were already elsewhere; in his mind, he was opening the book he just bought and immersing deep down it.

I sighed and headed to Asmo. I was not in the mood of picking outfits but I made a promise and therefore I have to stick to it.

I approached the door to Asmo’s room and knocked gently.

“Come in!”

The second I stepped in, I got caught in a bright and fragrant carnival of Asmo’s dwelling. Flowers of all sorts were everywhere, creating a unique and captivating aroma - as unique as their owner. Bottles, fragrances, jewelry, bags, and fabric - colors and textures of all sorts were all around, and this colorful chaotic composition made me smile.

“Ah dear, FINALLY!” Only Asmo could stress the words so much. “I’ve been waiting FOREVER. Now, come on, there is no time to waste! How about this one… Hey? Is everything all right?”

I did not realize at first that Asmo was addressing me but when I did, I gazed at him in surprise. He noticed my expression and laughed; his laugh sounding like melodic silver bells.

“Dear, I love you and I want you to be happy when helping me become even more gorgeous than I am. But how can you put your mind to it if something bothers you? I can sense such things, you know. And I can’t let you style me in a bad mood. So, what happened?”

“Well…” I didn’t know how to start. “I was meeting Satan in the bookstore… And there was this girl.”

“Ohhhh!” Asmodeus got excited. “Describe her!”

“She was… she was really beautiful. Long black hair, wonderful eyes, a really charming smile. And I think, she is close to Satan. She stood so close to him and he… he seemed to enjoy it.”

I blushed and my face got extremely red. Surprisingly, Asmo seemed really serious while listening to me. He thought for a moment and then said “Must be Tarissa”.

“Who is she?”

Asmo hesitated for a bit.

“Well, our Satan is known for being known to all sorts of people. And all these people are really fond of him. Tarissa is a witch that works in an art exposition. I think they met there, there was some sort of gala or something. I was there too actually, as a model. So I saw her approaching Satan and trying to charm him. He seemed really uninterested, to be honest. I think she tried to chase him and she even tried putting a spell on him but that’s Satan we are talking about, right?”

“But he smiled at her so kindly…”

“He is a gentleman, dear. And all his smiles - well, almost all! - are just a deceit. An illusion to get what he wants from people”.

“So he used Tarissa?”

“Who knows? Maybe it was a flick or maybe he really went on a couple of dates. I frankly do not know and I cannot say I care much. She is not that pretty after all. You are way more gorgeous and don’t use manticora serum to keep your skin so fresh and lovely. Now, what’s with the outfits?”

Asmo’s words brought relief but I still felt like something was not right. There is no way anyone could ignore such girl, especially if she is a witch… And there is no way I can seem more interesting - at least, not in my own eyes.

The rest of the evening was quiet and I almost calmed down when my D.D.D. rang, right before I was going to bed. I opened the message box, curious, and the D.D.D. almost fell from my hand.

“Meet me tomorrow@bookstore, 9PM. T.”

She was texting me?!

Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night. In fact, I looked so tired that Mammon, who always woke me up, actually got worried:

“Hey, you okay? Ya need some medicine? Aren’t ya ill?” He bombarded me with questions.

“Just a nightmare” I smiled in an attempt to calm the Avatar of Greed. “I’ll be in a minute. Will you walk with me to school?”

Mammon gave me the brightest and biggest smile and nodded in enthusiasm.

“Of course I allow you to walk with the Great Mammon! That would be an honor for such a mere human like you so cherish the opportunity and enjoy every second of it!

As we were walking out of the House of Lamentation, I saw Satan looking at me but he quickly averted his gaze. I wondered what was wrong but soon forgot about it as Mammon distracted me with chatting and jokes.

By the end of the day, I was growing more and more anxious. The text from Tarissa was bothering me and I had no idea what she wanted. Was it something about Satan? Maybe she wanted to ask me not to mess with their relationship? Uhhh no idea.

Once the last class was over, I stood up, ready to go but all of a sudden, Satan appeared in front of me.

“Hey,” He called and gently pulled me closer. “May I ask you for a favor?”

Honestly, if he asked me to jump off the cliff, I’d gladly do it. He had his hypnotic power over me because only Satan could be so demanding and caring at the same time. Lucifer was too dominant, Mammon was too needy… Satan was perfect. I felt a burning sensation in my chest. If only I was brave enough to simply admit that more than anything I wanted to kiss him and look in his green eyes first thing in the morning...

I swallowed and mumbled, “What’s that?"

He suddenly stepped closer as if he was about to embrace me. I felt a wave of heat coming from his body, along with the scent of coffee and lime. I saw his muscles moving under a thin blazer and thought what it was like to be held by his arms.

He didn’t embrace me though - instead, he placed a necklace around my neck. A wonderful emerald stone in a delicate setting on a thin silver chain - elegant and stylish at the same time.

“I want you to hide it under your sweater - just like that”.

Satan’s fingers touched my bare skin and I took a deep breath. I was already too excited and nervous before meeting Tarissa and couldn’t afford to faint in front of Satan because of his touch.

“Please promise me”, He stared deep into my eyes. “Do not take it down and do not show it to anyone. Please. It’s important.”

“Okay”, I nodded. “Will you tell me why?”

“Later. I have to go now so I will see you at dinner.”

He gave me a smile and left. I sighed silently and touched the gem. It seemed warm and comforting. It gave me… hope? But what kind of hope? Too many secrets for one day!

Finally, I arrived at a place. I immediately spotted her, standing right in the doorway of the store. Tarissa was way too gorgeous and everybody was looking at her in admiration but she ignored their looks completely. She was greedily staring at the crows and spotted me.

I approached and she just nodded coldly.

“So that’s the famous exchange student,” She said. “They could have made a better choice”.

“I’m glad you were not the one choosing,” I replied. “You seem to lack the sense of beauty”.

She gasped and hissed at my words; I got petrified with shock. I did not mean to say rude things but it just… happened! I didn’t know why but deep down, I guessed why I blurted these words: I did not want Satan to be with her! I want him to be mine.

“You think Satan really fell for you? He is just bored and you are a shiny new toy from the human world!” She snapped. “I’ve known him for centuries and I am the one he comes to when he needs comfort! What do you know about that, you pathetic human?”

She got silent and eyed me keenly. I got scared but only for a second - then something happened to her! All of a sudden, Tarissa’s skin got wrinkled, she kind of shrank in her size and her hair lost its beauty and strength. In front of me now was some sort of a gremlin, who was screaming curses in an unknown language.

I stood in amazement, looking at the creature. Suddenly, it shrieked towards me, in an attempt to attack but a flash of green color appeared in front of my eyes.

Satan was there, holding me. He pressed his forehead against mine and his lips were so close I could feel his breath. He whispered “Stay still” and put his left arm behind his back.

Everything went silent behind us. As he stepped back, still holding me, I saw that the creature disappeared. At the same time, I felt a warm sensation on my chest. I took the gem out and gasped: it felt as hot as if it was under the sun for hours!

“What’s happening?” I was lost for words. “Satan, what’s happening here?”

“Sorry, I should have warned you - but the spell won’t work then. Tarissa wanted to hex you and I came up with a way not only to prevent that but to backfire. As you see, it worked.”

He seemed really delighted with his plan but I couldn’t help asking:

“Why would she want to hex me? I did not do anything to her!”

“Well, you put me under your spell” He replied, smiling. “Isn’t that enough?”

He saw the expression on my face and laughed:

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know! I love you - from the first time I saw you, back there at the University! More than anything do I love being with you and I thought I made myself quite obvious - but apparently not enough! Come here”.

He kissed me; a thousand fireworks exploded in front of my eyes as he pressed his lips against mine. Satan was demanding and controlling but I felt his love and passion and gladly gave in to him. His arms squeezed me, never letting go, and I felt like I was out of breath as he was kissing me more and more.

Finally, he allowed me to catch my breath, watching me with a smile. And I had one more question left for him.

“She said you come to her when you need comfort… Is that true?”

Satan laughed loudly.

“I used to come to the gallery, that’s true. Unfortunately, it’s the only decent gallery here. And notice how I said “I used to”. Because from now on, I intend to come to your room only. Did I make myself clear?”

I nodded and smiled as he leaned to kiss me again. And maybe I should decorate my room with some paintings - if we ever get time to look at them.