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sha-n-dowbannedlol · 2 years

Text

blankets

Rohan Kishibe x GN!Reader

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and Bakin is barking. It's going to be a good day, or so Rohan thought.

WARNINGS: uh, reader is sick?

yo, its been a while. had a major burnout so i allowed myself to actually take a break for once. felt nice. anyway, rohan fic :D

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The sound of small yelps coming from the new addition to Rohan's little family was what woke the mangaka up that morning. In all honesty, he still wasn't quite used to having a pet after not having one for so long, but the small labrador retriever seems to have captured your heart the moment you laid eyes on him — and Rohan would be lying if he said he hadn't felt the same.

Another small yelp from the puppy prompted the mangaka to snap out of his thoughts and finally open his eyes.

"What is it, Bakin?" The green-haired man asks sleepily as if the puppy sitting on the floor, looking up at his owners sadly would give a decipherable answer.

Rohan then sat up, letting his legs hang off the side of the bed and his feet land on the floor, now getting a good look at his new 'son' who has his tail wagging as he waits for his 'father' to pet him.

"Ah," Rohan grumbles annoyingly, though the action was only half-hearted, "They spoiled you with too much attention, didn't they?"

Leaning down, he pets the puppy who seems to have brightened up since he finally achieved the attention that he longs for. After giving Rohan's hand a few licks as thank you and as a show of affection, the puppy then turns to leave the room and play with one of his toys.

At the sight of Bakin leaving, Rohan turns to look at you. He lets out a light amused chuckle at the sight of your hogging all the blankets to yourself, your back to him. He was about to stand up to leave, but his observant eyes noticed something that wasn't right about you. He looks back at you and furrows his brows, sure enough, you were shivering. It was a very minimal movement, and Rohan would have missed it from the bundle of blankets you cocooned yourself with had he not taken a closer look.

He frowns as his eyes shift outside the window, the sun was shining brightly today and there were no signs of a bad- or even a cold weather, the air conditioner wasn't turned up that high either, and yet you're so cold that you're still shivering even though you're practically already hiding under the covers.

His brows furrowed as he crawls over to you, and you can feel the bed shift as he approaches you. You can also hear the sound of your name being called very faintly as if it was being called from the other side of the house. Your head is pounding, it aches so bad that you can't find it in you to even your eyes, and you feel so weak and your throat dry that you weren't able to muster up any words to tell the person calling you to stop and leave you alone.

The frown Rohan is wearing deepens when you only hum weakly in response to his calls. Balancing his weight on one arm, he uses the other to remove stray hair from your face before lowering himself down to press his lips against your temple. The furrow in his brows deepens as he pulls away before pressing his lips against the center of your forehead this time to be sure.

Your forehead was hot against his lips which made the mangaka's face scrunch in concern, but it was enough to confirm his suspicions that you were sick. His eyes glance over the clock in your shared room that has been ticking so quietly that he only heard the sound once he acknowledged the thing's existence in the room.

Curses were muttered under his breath when he realized he woke up quite later today than he usually does, his eyes sweep over to your form again as he debates in his mind what he should prioritize for today.

Sure, if this were any other day, the answer to his question would be taking care of you—except that he has a deadline coming soon and you pulled him from his work yesterday to spend time going around town. He didn't regret allowing himself to be enticed by you, he does, however, regret missing out on a whole day of work. If he had a wonderful inspiration at the moment, it would only take him a few hours to finish at least two days of work, unfortunately, the last time that happened was when he met Koichi for the first time.

With a defeated sigh, Rohan crawls out of bed before approaching the cabinet to fetch a hand towel, before making his way to the bathroom. Spending even more time thinking about what he should do would just eat up the time when he can already be doing something. With that, he decided to do what he can for you at the moment before he actually starts working.

When he came back into the room, he had a thermometer in one hand and the now wet towel in the other. The folded towel is placed on your forehead and he watches as you flinch at the cold sensation, before using the thermometer on you. Sure enough, the loud, rapid beeping of the thermometer was enough for Rohan to know that you had a fever, the numbers blinking back at him.

39° C

Not good.

He places the thermometer on the table next to your shared bed before exiting the room once again. The first thing he did was to check if there were any medicines still left or if he needed to go out—fortunately, he still had a decent stock left, he retrieved some for you in case you'll need them before heading to the kitchen. Rohan gave Bakin the puppy's food as he debated whether he should make you breakfast now or later since you're still very much deep in the dreamland before his mind reminded him that he won't be able to make some for later so he better do it now.

When he entered the room again with a curious Bakin following him, you were still asleep, discomfort obvious on your face which made the sides of his lips tilt downward slightly. He places the newly made food next to the thermometer, along with the glass of water and medication. He reaches out for a sticky note and wrote in it to be left next to your food.

The food might be cold by the time you read this but eat up and drink your meds. Yell out or text me if you need anything.

Looking back at the time after he placed the note for you, he then only realized that he forgot to make food for himself. He berates himself for that before shrugging it off, he doesn't have the time right now, maybe he can eat a quick snack later instead.

Another sigh escapes Rohan's lips as he sat down on his chair, his dominant hand picking up his pen, he can't help but wish he could use Heaven's Door on you—but alas, there is only so much that his stand can do, and that does not include healing illnesses.

At the mention of the stand, an idea suddenly popped up in the mangaka's head and he didn't waste any time. His stand manifested next to him, the familiar look of the protagonist of Pink Dark Boy looking at him with an inquisitive gaze, floating in the air as it patiently waits for his orders.

"Look after them for me, would you?"

Heaven's Door didn't need to be told twice.

The moment you felt conscious, it immediately dawned on you just how horrible you feel. Your head is pounding, yet numb, your eyelids feel hot and like it was glued to your eyes, your throat felt dry, and the blankets are too heavy, sticking to your skin which makes you feel hot.

You tried to kick them away, not noticing the extra pair of child-like hands helping you remove them in a much more graceful way than you would have had you continued kicking them on your own. However, the moment the blankets were off your body, the cool air that hit you sent goosebumps on your skin, and you immediately blindly reached for the blankets once again and pull them close to your being.

Finally opening your eyes, you were grateful that the lights were off and the blinds were covering the sun from shining its bright rays upon you. At first, you thought you might have woken up in the middle of the night, but the lack of heat coming from beside you in bed tells you otherwise. The next thing you noticed was the pair of emerald eyes looking over at you, shining with concern, which made you turn to look at the being floating on the bed to check on you.

"Good morning, D," You murmur, but the small nod the stand gave you told you that it heard your greeting loud and clear. Your eyes start to droop shut once again but you were awakened by the feeling of Heaven's Door gently tugging at the blankets.

"I'm cold," You informed him, thinking he might have misunderstood your intent earlier, but the constant tugging from the stand allows your fever-hazed mind to know that removing the blanket from you was not its intention.

Upon seeing you crack an eye open, Heaven's Door hovered over to the bedside table where the things Rohan placed lay, waiting for you. With a groan, perch yourself on one arm to examine what your partner has prepared for you—breakfast, a glass of water, medicine, and a note left for you. Not far from those, you can see the thermometer that you assume he used on you earlier. The stand moved to hand the note to you so you can read it and you can't help but crack a small smile before sitting up and doing exactly what he told you to do.

Surprisingly, the food was still a bit warm, which tells you that either it hadn't been long since Rohan made it or Heaven's Door decided to reheat it itself (or maybe, it used its ability on it? Can Heaven's Door even do that? You decide to think about it some other time as it just makes your head hurt even more). You only finished half of it before deciding that you have had enough and wanting to just go back to resting, you drank the meds, praying it works soon enough and downing it with room temperature water that was next to it.

As you lay back in bed, Heaven's Door helped return your blanket back and disappears to the bathroom for a moment, before returning with a damp washcloth and placing it on your forehead with a reassuring smile. You let out a soft 'thank you' before your drowsiness became too much to fight against.

Seeing you look a bit better than you had the morning its user found you helped calm Heaven's Door a bit, fetching the empty glass on the bedside table, he left for a moment to refill it with water for when you wake up feeling thirsty, its eyes glancing over the clock in the room to take note of the time you took your meds so it can relay the information to Rohan later so you can drink them in time.

When the stand got back to the room, it was surprised to see Bakin looking up at you from the side of the bed. It felt like slow motion for the stand as it watched the puppy stand on his two back legs, looking at you with every intention to bark to get your attention—perhaps because he needed affection, or perhaps out of worry for his owner—but Heaven's Door was quick to move before the puppy can interrupt your rest.

The puppy fell to his side on the floor as his pages open up, the door to the canine's heart now opened before the stand. Letting out a relieved sigh, Heaven's Door placed the glass of water on the bedside table before writing inside the pooch, commanding it to not go near you for the whole day—the stand assumed you'll be sleeping the whole day away anyway.

Undoing its ability, Bakin immediately got up to his paws and left the room. Presumably, to play with his toys in the kitchen, or maybe to annoy its other owner.

Heaven's Door turns to look at you, still asleep, and he can feel the stress his user must be feeling from having to work at a time when he should be taking care of you and the stand moves to sit on the bed next to you to look over at you more effectively.

After all, it's going to be a long day for the little stand.

blankets - fantompower

Canon!Rohan taglist: @runichu @thus-spoke-gee @transparentmochi @diurit @outofthiszawarudo @cloudcoco @zeldan7 @parkeepingparker @thusspokeleena @musingsofanextrovert @determinedchannel @insolumn

#rohan kishibe #rohan kishibe x reader #rohan kishibe x y/n #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jjba #jjba imagines #jjba x reader

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

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jkstompers · 4 years

Text

noise complaints | myg

pairing: min yoongi x female reader

summary: yoongi is tired of his loud, video game addicted roommate, so he decides to move out and get his own apartment for some peace and quiet. but with his luck, gets you as his neighbor: a girl who plays bass in a band and hates the feeling of earbuds in her ears.

word count: 5.8k

genre: neighbor!au, producer yoongi, bassist oc, pwp ( ；∀；) i tried but rlly it’s just... smut

warnings: mature!! (18+!), explicit language, smut, making out, fingering, dom!yoongi, he’s a little mean

author’s note: hi!!!!!! in honor of yoongi’s birthday, i wanted to post this fic that i had sitting in my drafts! i hope u enjoy!! (´⌣`ʃƪ) pls let me know what u think!

banner pic creds here <3

yoongi doesn’t know how to tell his roomate, mark, that his gaming obsession has driven him to take extreme measures that consist of: moving out. he never stops playing video games. all day, all night, his eyes are fixed on the computer or tv screen, always screaming to his team mates about where to go or who’s fucking up. yoongi’s not sure if he can take it anymore.

he’s finally saved up enough to move into an apartment of his own, he’s been planning this for almost 6 months; already visited the apartment complex, discussed prices, background checks, etc. all yoongi really needs to do is finish signing the papers and start moving in.

he decides to just let mark know, no sugarcoat. as yoongi expected, mark practically begs on his knees for him to stay. his parents are paying for his share of the apartment but only if he splits the cost with a roommate, but yoongi’s gone through two years of it already, he’s over it. over the next few days, mark watches yoongi dejectedly as he packs his things.

by the end of the week, yoongi has finished packing and already signed the lease. he tells mark ‘good luck’ and leaves him in the dust, hopefully he’ll find another roommate, but that’s beyond yoongi’s concern now. all he has to worry about now is unpacking his boxes in his brand new apartment.

he looks around at the empty space, with the boxes cornered in one section. he smiles to himself, no noisy roomates, no unwashed dishes, no dirty laundry, ah, finally. peace and qui—

and that’s when he hears the blare of your speakers, it’s not loud enough for the entire complex to hear, but the music obviously bleeds through the shared wall. yoongi groans, knowing that this could be a complete repeat of mark. he’s not sure if he should knock on your door and ask you to lower the music down, it’s only his first day here. don’t you treat your neighbors with respect? why are you so loud?

yoongi decides to ignore it for now. he unpacks his things and starts furnishing the room so he can have a place to sleep for the night. when everything is put together, he feels the weight of the day; how much he’s been lifting and how he’s now renting an apartment hits him all at once. the dull pain resonates in his arms, his head starting to ache, and you’re still playing your fucking music. he can’t take it anymore, especially not with this ache getting worse.

yoongi feels his fist knock angrily against your door three times, he waits for you to open the door. except, he was not expecting a pretty girl to answer, he was expecting maybe an obnoxious frat guy; he’s absolutely flustered. you stand there and look up at him confused, “hi? did you need something?” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“i’m— uh, i’m your neighbor, i’m sorry to disrupt, but if you could just lower your music down a bit, i’m really tired, and—” he starts but a gasp of excitement leaves you, cutting him off.

“my neighbor?! that apartment has been empty for so long! i’m so sorry, i was just so used to no one being able to hear! welcome! i’m ___!” you greet him cheerfully, taking his hands into yours and shaking them. yoongi feels his cheeks turn pink, your hands are soft and you’re so pretty.

“my name is yoongi,” he replies, he stands there not really knowing how to respond to the way you’re so excited. he wishes he could reciprocate but his head is pounding, all he wants to do is sleep.

you pick up on his energy, letting go of his hands to wave him off, “i’ll turn the music off for today, get some rest, yoongi, if you need help, some sugar or something, you can always just knock on my door,” you smile.

yoongi nods, “thank you, ___, goodnight.”

“goodnight, yoongi! nice meeting you,” you reply, closing your door. you blush behind the door, a neighbor? a cute one at that? there’s a sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins, testing you, telling you to blast your music just so he could come back and you could look at him one more time. but you decide it’s better not to, he said he was tired, maybe tomorrow.

yoongi returns to his apartment, thankful that you kept to your word and kept the music off. his body drifts his pounding head to sleep.

two weeks had gone by before yoongi’s eyes, he spent most of it buying furniture since the apartment looked so bare. one upside to a loft apartment was that he didn’t have to buy too much furniture, a bed, a couch, a tv, and maybe a rug was enough for him, for now of course.

in the time that’s passed, he’s learned that you like playing music when you’re studying, cleaning, when you’re doing anything really. whenever he thinks it’s too loud, he knocks through the wall, you get the hint most of the time. he’s also learned that you can play the bass and that you’re in a band. speaking of that, you’re having a meeting with them right now, and yoongi can hear every word of it.

your band mates decided to barge into your apartment today, waking you from your study nap and telling you that you all need to practice. the volume of their voices is jarring, you never realized how loud you and your surroundings were until yoongi moved in. you’re suddenly conscious about your volume at all times, his knocks whenever you were loud always made you feel terrible, but you couldn’t help but blush whenever you thought of him. you were torn, be loud and get his attention or be quiet and get on his good side.

“___! grab your shit and let’s go!” jungkook shouts. he’s the guitarist and lead singer of the band; he gets impatient sometimes.

“oh just let her daydream for a little bit, she’s probably thinking about her hot neighbor,” seulgi teases. she’s the drummer and your best friend. you don’t let her comment pass so easily, but you try to ignore the way your face heats up.

“you think he’s hot?” you quip back. a smirk on your face as you zip your bass into it’s case. yoongi is surprised at the way he can hear your voices so clearly, he wonders if you guys always talk this loud or if the walls are really that thin. “you haven’t even seen him yet,” you lug your bag over your shoulder.

“he sounds hot.” she shrugs, taking a bite of the apple she stole from your fruit basket. jungkook grows more and more antsy the longer you both talk.

“where’s taehyung anyway?” you ask. the realization comes to you when you feel a missing presence, knowing your 4th member would say something about yoongi.

“how nice of you to finally ask, he’s been waiting in the car for you slow pokes, let’s get going.” jungkook rushes, pushing you and seulgi out of the door. you turn to lock the door when you hear the door to your left slide open.

“oh my god, jungkook look, he’s hot.” seulgi smacks jungkook’s shoulder to make him look. your eyes are glued on the figure standing outside of apartment 77.

“hi— hey, yoongi,” you greet him while locking your door. it’s embarrassing the way the three of you are all almost drooling at the sight of him.

“hi, ___,” he sends a small smile to you, looking over to your bandmates hesitantly. yoongi notices jungkook, an assumption is made in his head almost immediately, boyfriend?

you scramble next to them and introduce them, “yoongi, these are my bandmates, seulgi, she plays the drums, and jungkook, he plays guitar and sings, there’s taehyung too, he plays guitar too but he— he’s um, in the car.”

“ah, nice to meet you.” he nods, greeting them as well. “i actually have to get to work, but it was cool meeting you all,” he excuses himself. you all wave to him.

“way to be fucking awkward guys,” you scold them when you’re all walking to the car. taehyung looks up from his phone to see the three of you walking his way, he starts the car once you open the door.

“hey, not our fault he’s good looking,” jungkook shrugs and seulgi holds her hand up for a high five, which he gladly gives her.

“not fair! you guys got to see ___’s hot neighbor while i was stuck in the car? i knew i should have just came in,” taehyung grumbles, pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“it just so happened that he was leaving his apartment the same time we were, maybe you’ll meet him too tae,” you rub his arm. a somewhat sarcastic tone in your voice. taehyung rolls his eyes, starting the drive to the studio.

the music in the car was overshadowed by taehyung and seulgi arguing about when you and yoongi would finally hook up. you had to remind them that he hasn’t even been here a month yet, and that you guys barely talk besides the small hellos and awkward run ins when you’re doing laundry. it seems to keep them quiet, taehyung parks in the lot and you all move into the studio, making your way to the practice room the owners thankfully let you use to rehearse.

a couple songs are played and you all vote for a break. taehyung and jungkook having a guitar battle, seulgi leaning back against the wall on her phone, and you, need to pee! you leave the room and use the bathroom as usual, but a familiar bleach blonde head turns the corner and starts to walk down the hallway towards you, the breath you’re holding turns into a gasp when you realize it’s him. “yoongi?! why are you here?”

he looks up from the ground, looking as surprised as you when he realizes you were talking to him, “i work here, why are you here? are you following me?” he grills, you scoff at the question.

“i’m with my band, we’re rehearsing,” you explain. he raises his eyebrows, you’re not sure what it means. “you don’t believe me?” you pose.

“it’s just a little suspicious,” he shrugs, yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing. he hopes his hint makes sense to you, he’s never really been good at flirting. a familiar feeling erupts in his stomach, one that people could call butterflies whenever he saw you. he really just wants to see you play, and to hear you sing, that’s what he wants the most.

“uh, i can bring you to them? i promise i’m here with my band,” you laugh, warmth spreading to your cheeks. there is no way in hell that you’re going to play in front of yoongi. you were confident sure, but your embarrassing crush on him will make your fingers shake when you try to press the strings down. it’ll be a shitshow!

“can i pee first?” his small laugh brings a smile to your face. boys pee fast, you’ve learned that over time, so yoongi doesn’t take long. you’re both walking back down the hallway, “your boyfriend isn’t angry that you’re with me?” the random question makes your steps stutter.

“i’m sorry, what? boyfriend?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare up at him, his face isn’t showing any sign of humor, he’s serious.

“you’re not dating one of your band mates? isn’t that how it usually goes?” his lips purse as you continue to walk to the room that your band is occupying, he’s so serious that it makes you laugh.

“oh my god, yoongi, i’m single as a pringle, they’re my best friends, our number one rule is to never date within the band, that’s how things get messy,” you explain. a weight is taken off of yoongi’s shoulders, it wasn’t his fault he thought of it; you’re beautiful and surrounded by people that probably want you as much as he does.

“oh,” he answers, you both turn the corner and approach the door, “good to know.” the door opens to your three members looking at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“oh my god, it’s him,” seulgi points to yoongi with her drumstick. you wave your hand to signal her to put it down, ‘it’s rude!’ you mouth.

“are you yoongi?” taehyung asks, taking his guitar and putting it down on it’s stand. yoongi nods, holding his hand out to shake taehyung’s, which he doesn’t take. instead taehyung pulls him into a hug, yoongi doesn’t expect the sudden action of affection, his arms not knowing what to do. “it’s so nice to finally meet you! ___ talks about you a lot,” taehyung’s confession makes your face flush.

“taehyung! what the fuck!? i’ve talked about you like twice, yoongi, i swear,” you defend yourself, pushing taehyung off of him. you laugh awkwardly, yoongi shoots you both a gummy smile.

“nice to meet you, taehyung,” he completely ignores your defense. he finds it cute, your flustered face as you try to tell taehyung to shut up.

“anyways,” you huff. “yoongi thinks i followed him here, so i am showing proof that i’m actually here with you guys and not stalking him.”

your friends snort at the same time, “actually, yoongi, we have no idea who this girl is! i think she’s following you,” taehyung whisper-shouts, you smack his shoulder.

“no but really, ___ we were just gonna call it a day, seulgi said she has to go to a family dinner soon and taehyung said he was hungry,” jungkook speaks up. it’s then that you realize that their instruments were almost all packed. yoongi looks down at you, a small smile on his face once he realizes what they’re trying to do.

“i leave to pee for five minutes and you guys hatch a plan to ditch me?!” you cross your arms over your chest.

“well… we just told you, so, technically we didn’t ditch you, also i can’t drop you off, yoongi, you can drop her off, right?” taehyung smiles to him.

“i—“ yoongi starts but you cut him off with plans to scold your members. they knew exactly what they were doing and you weren’t having it.

“taehyung, you’re dropping me off, let’s not bother yoongi,” you move to pack your bass but yoongi shakes his head.

“i can drop you off,” he smiles.

“oh, see! perfect! thank you, yoongi.” taehyung grabs his hand and gives him a good shake, before you know it your members are out the door.

you sigh as you lift your case and sling it over your shoulder, “it’s okay, yoongi, i can walk.”

he rolls his eyes, “don’t be ridiculous, are you hungry? we can eat first.”

his hand is outstretched and you’re not sure what it means, does he want to hold your hand? but no, he’s asking for your bass, so he can hold it instead of you. you reject his offer, “i can hold it.”

“you’re really stubborn,” he notes. it makes you snort.

“you’re not into stubborn girls?” the joke slips from your mouth before you can think.

this is the perfect time, yoongi thinks. “if it’s you, maybe i’ll make an exception.”

you try your best not to show any type of reaction, but you can’t really ignore the way your heartbeat quickened. yoongi leads you to his car, putting your bass in the trunk as you get comfortable in the front seat. he follows you soon enough and is driving out of the studio parking lot.

“you don’t have to work?” you question. getting into the car of someone you barely know is quite risky of you, but he was your neighbor, and he was hot. that doesn’t give you a reason to trust him, though for some reason, you think you can rely on yoongi, it’s a gut feeling.

“technically i work all day, i’m on my own schedule, i basically spend the entire day in the studio,” he explains. his focus is on the road but from his peripheral he can see your body turned to him, and your eyes glued on him.

“workaholic?” you guessed, he smiles.

“you could say that.”

“that’s good then, i’m giving you a reason for a break!” you clap, your nervousness fading as you start to get comfy with yoongi.

a friendship blooms from that lucky, odd encounter that day.

you forgot how long it’s been since you officially met yoongi and spent the day with him, maybe two months? three months ago? you never kept track. but you do remember that things changed after that. the two of you so obviously flirting with each other whenever you had the chance. yoongi would offer you a ride to the studio, which you greedily took whenever he asked; because he was a cool guy to be with, and in all honesty you were trying to put the moves on him. you’re not sure if he’s taking the hints though, you’ve never been good at the shy type of flirting, most of the time you’re upfront.

speaking of being upfront: yoongi hasn’t really been complaining about your noise lately, and it’s been eerily quiet on his end. no knocks on the wall when your volume was a tad bit higher than usual, no texts telling you to ‘be quiet’ when you were practicing late at night, nothing. you figure it’s because the two of you have grown a lot closer. hanging out together and even making some inside jokes together type of close.

it’s soon that you figure out why yoongi hasn’t been upfront, complaining to you about your noise, because he talked to your apartment manager about it. you knew namjoon well, he was one of your classmates in college. his father originally owned the place, so he’s been taking over for him. you’ve grown close to namjoon due to situations that left you outside of your apartment multiple times without your keys. his master key saved your ass one too many times. so, when you received a letter from him in the mail this morning with a big red ‘important’ stamp on it. you knew you were in trouble.

the words noise complaints, your neighbor, and eviction were the only ones you needed to read for you to be stomping towards yoongi’s apartment. you didn’t care that it was ten in the morning and you’re banging on yoongi’s door. you knocked nonstop until he opened up. his sleepy face scrunched in confusion as he stood before you.

“___? what’s wrong?” his morning voice could have made you melt, if you weren’t so fucking angry. you step past him, moving inside his apartment. “okay, come in, i guess,” yoongi says as he shuts the door behind you.

“you complained about me?! i got a fucking letter from namjoon! he never sends letters!” you raise your voice. it’s too early in the morning to be yelling, your voice is a bit rough, it sounds like you’re croaking.

it’s also way too early for yoongi to be dealing with this, so his voice is soft when he says, “be quiet, we’re gonna get complaints from the other neighbors now too.” he walks up to you and your very angry expression. he just looks so kissable right now, it’s making you angrier. how could he look so perfect when you’re mad at him? that’s so rude!

you lower your voice when you ask, complying to his demand. you cross your arms over your chest, “why would you do that?”

yoongi laughs.

it makes your eyebrows furrow. was he not taking you seriously? you loved this apartment, you needed to live here. it makes the anger boil a little hotter. “you think this is funny, yoongi? i’ve—” your voice is raising once more.

this time yoongi rolls his eyes. “shut up.” his voice grew deeper than it already was, the bass traveling straight to your lower belly.

you try to act as if it had no effect on you, but your small silence before you spoke made things a little obvious. “excuse me? shut up?” you scoff. your feet carrying you closer to yoongi, breaking the distance in effort to intimidate. yoongi wasn’t one to be scared, if anything, he found it funnier.

but the way that your pretty face looks when you’re angry makes yoongi want to do more, wants to push and push because he can feel the tension between you both. you can too. “yeah, you’re so goddamn loud all the time, shut the fuck up.” he moves a little closer, the distance between you both is almost none.

it makes your eyes flicker to his lips. here you were, thinking that you were gonna teach yoongi a lesson, yet you want to kiss him. “want me to shut up?” your eyes move back to his, making eye contact. he licks his lips in anticipation. “make me,” you press.

you feel his soft hand against your cheek first, leading you to his lips. then it was the plush of his lips against yours. this feeling could definitely make you shut up. before you knew it, you were pushing yoongi over to his couch. he breaks the kiss to plop down onto the couch, you follow suit, straddling his lap.

“if you wanted to make out with me, you could have just asked.” you spoke before reattaching your lips.

he smiles into the kiss, “where’s the fun in that?”

the kiss deepens, tongues exploring each other’s mouths and small whimpers escaping your throat. they go straight to yoongi’s groin, you can feel his hard cock against your core through your sweatpants. instinctively, you grind down, the feeling makes him groan out.

his large hands move to your ass, running over them and trailing up to your waist. his hands sliding under your shirt, you know you aren’t wearing a bra, and yoongi finds out soon after. his thumbs running right over your hard nipples, “eager?” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “i’m just cold.” the lie makes yoongi scoff, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index fingers. now, goosebumps raise over your skin, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“take your shirt off,” he speaks against your lips. usually, you weren’t one to follow orders, your rebellious spirit screaming in your head, telling you to take control. but you’ve never wanted anything more than to let yoongi have you, let him do whatever he wants to you. because outside of this, he just seems so nice, never mean, never demanding. you can’t help but indulge in this new side of yoongi you’ve discovered.

so you’re taking your shirt off, the breeze created by his air conditioner makes you shiver, but yoongi's warm hands are there to comfort you. running them over your breasts, squeezing them just right as he kisses down your throat. “y-yoongi—” you whimper. his lips find a certain spot that has you grinding harder onto his dick.

“you aren’t very patient,” he speaks against your skin. “i’ll let it slide this time.” a tender kiss to your neck is placed before he lingers on the spot a little longer, sucking and licking, making sure to leave a pretty red mark. he makes his way to your nipple, wrapping his mouth around the bud and sucking. the feeling makes you throw your head back, his hand tweaks your other nipple, refusing to neglect it.

it was true, you were not patient. you hated waiting too long for something, just like how you hate the feeling of your warm core go uncared for. the grinding wasn’t enough at this point, you wanted more, needed it really. “are you gonna fuck me or not?” you push him gently off of your nipple.

an almost annoyed gaze is painted on his face, “are you going to beg?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you weren’t one to plead, “no.”

“then no,” he asserts. you purse your lips, complete dissatisfaction displayed on your face. “don’t worry, kitten, i’ll make you feel good.” yoongi gives in. he didn’t know how long he could hold back, your attitude makes him want to check you, make you cum as many times he wants you to until you’re obeying.

the nickname makes you drip. he’s pushing up from below, his leg kneeling onto the couch as he lays you down. your head lays against the pillow he has on the couch, yoongi gives you a swift kiss before he moves down, trailing kisses on the valley of your breasts and your stomach, stopping just before the waistband of your sweatpants. “yoongi,” you mewl.

“hm? wanna beg now?” he challenges. his fingers teasingly slipping under the band. your body reacts so easily to his touch, your hips slightly jerking up at the graze of his hands.

but you’re stubborn, not wanting to let yoongi win even though the only thing you want right now is for him to make you feel good. “no, never.” you shake your head.

yoongi doesn't verbally reply, instead, nodding and smirking to himself. “can i eat you out then?” he asks. you don’t trust your words, so you nod, knowing you’ll fall into the trap yoongi has set. “i need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“yes,” you quickly say.

yoongi quirks a brow. “yes, what?”

you roll your eyes, just once, you tell yourself. “yes, please.”

“good girl,” he praises. you hate to admit that you liked the way he called you a good girl. your sweatpants and panties are pulled down at the same time, revealing your wet pussy. “so pretty, baby.” he positions himself between your spread legs. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

kisses against your thighs and pubic bone are what he starts off with, then a brief kiss to your clit that makes you gasp. “oh, god—” you lean your head back against the couch.

“also, just to let you know, the letter was a joke,” yoongi breathes. mouth ghosting your lips, where you need him the most.

at first you didn’t pay attention to what he said, a hum leaving your lips until then you realized, “what?!”

“i thought it’d be funny to scare you a little bit, namjoon and i are friends, i asked him if he could do it for me.” he explains with a smile on his face.

you rolled your eyes. you knew it was too serious to be namjoon, his style was more so speaking, not letters. you couldn’t be mad at him, at least you weren’t in trouble. but you play it up for the fun, “will you make it up to me?” a sly look on your face.

“what do you want?” he leans his head against your thigh, waiting patiently for your answer. his fingers ever so gently running up and down your thighs.

“your cock,” you demand with a mischievous smile. your hands run through his hair, eyes pleading because you won’t allow your mouth to let the words out.

yoongi acts like he thinks about it, but all he truly wants, is to devour your and make you feel so good. “you don’t deserve it.” he denies you of the pleasure you want, but he surprises you, running his tongue along your slit.

“oh— oh, yoongi,” you mewl. your hands moving to play with your boobs, but yoongi knocks your hands away. he directs them to his hair, telling you to pull. his hands replace yours, playing and tweaking with your nipples as his tongue does the work.

“taste so good, baby.” yoongi loves the sight of you so vulnerable in front of him. you’re bare, naked while yoongi still has all his clothes on. he loves it. your eager body twitching from the ministrations of his tongue. he pulls away for a second, “don’t cum until i say so.”

“that’s not— umph!” you start but yoongi retracts his hands from your breasts, bringing them back to your thighs to spread them further apart. your lips reveal your sweet spot for yoongi to take, and he’s relentless. the taste of you on his tongue drives him crazy. “that’s not fair,” you moan out.

yoongi doesn’t care. he loves being in control. so when your phone starts to ring, yoongi thinks this is the best time to assert dominance. “answer it,” he commands. he pulls away from your pussy, the loss of the feeling of his tongue makes you groan out in displeasure. in turn, yoongi rubs his middle and ring fingers against your clit. it makes you gasp. he slips the fingers in, your walls pulsating against his fingers. another moan leaves your lips. you were completely ignoring the rings coming from your phone. he repeats himself, “answer the phone, baby.”

“but,” you spoke. your worry being that you were so wound up and yoongi’s fingers were still residing inside of you. you knew it would be way too obvious.

“they won’t know,” he assures. a gentle touch against your thigh comforting you, making you believe this was a good idea.

your fucked out brain obliges, your hand moving to reach for your phone. jungkook’s contact name displayed on the screen, you press the green button and place the phone next to your ear. “jungkook? what’s up?” you answer. yoongi’s eyes locked onto yours as you speak.

“speaker,” he mouths. you nod, mindlessly obliging. taking the phone away from your ear and pressing the speaker button. his fingers dangerously still in your pussy, ready to cause chaos whenever he felt like it.

“dude! guess fucking what!” jungkook shouts over the phone. yoongi pushes deeper, bottoming out his fingers. it makes your eyes roll back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

you’re moving the phone away so he doesn’t hear it, but yoongi is pushing your hand back into position. “what?” you cough, trying to cover the noise.

“you okay? you sound… weird.” jungkook snorts over the phone, you can hear seulgi and taehyung in the back, their bickering all too familiar.

“i— i’m good.” you nod even though he can’t see you.

“okay, well, this guy from a record label called earlier, he said he wants to take us all out to eat and talk about our future!” jungkook informs. your eyes widen. a record deal?! even yoongi reacts, a cute, surprised look on his face. how funny was it that you were receiving this news with yoongi’s fingers fucking you.

“you’re lying.” you sit up a little bit, leaning onto your forearm. yoongi decides to be nice, letting his fingers stay stagnant in your hole so you can enjoy the news.

“i’m serious! we’re on the way to yours right now to pick you up, be ready in five minutes,” he tells you.

“right now?!” you exclaim. yoongi smirks, starting to pumping his fingers in and out of you, making your breaths a little more labored. “oh— fuck,” you groaned, you tried to cover it up by making it sound like you were annoyed. but anyone could be able to tell what you were doing, the squelch of your pussy loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear probably.

“what the hell are you—” jungkook starts but you cut him off, yoongi’s fingers moving faster and the string in your belly about to snap from the tension.

“okay, jungkook! bye! love you! see you in a bit!” you rush the words out and press the big red button to hang up, throwing your phone onto the floor as yoongi leans over you with a smile on his face.

“congratulations, baby.” he punctuates his sentence with a quick circle around your clit. you’re so wound up, you could feel tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“yoongi, please, please let me cum.” you beg, giving in to his desires. the sound of your begging is music to his ears. he smirks, quickening the tight circles around your clit. your legs spreading wider if that was even possible.

yoongi’s plans were cut short due to your new plans, but he didn’t mind. he was happy for you, and he’s never wanted to make someone cum as much as he does now. “alright, kitten, cum whenever you want,” he whispers in your ear. his fingers coated in your wetness gliding against your clit, it feels way too good. the string in your belly snapping as soon as he gave you permission.

you found yourself letting out some of the loudest moans because yoongi was just that good. “holy fuck, yoongi,” you gasp. your chest rises and falls quickly, taking in as many breaths as possible.

“good job, baby.” he kisses your neck, letting you recover before slipping his fingers out and bringing them up to your lips. at first you furrow your eyebrows, this isn’t something you usually do; but when he says, “open,” you find yourself obliging easily. “good girl,” he smiles as you suck your cum off of his fingers.

you pull his fingers from your mouth when you’re sure you’ve sucked them clean, “i got a record deal dinner, min!” you rush to put your clothes on. yoongi tries his best to help, but all he wants to do is give you a big hug. he lets you put your clothes on before he’s holding you in his grasp, while you’re trying to make your way to his door. the two of you wobbling to his door.

“let me kiss you first, rockstar.” he smiles, his hand gently taking ahold of your face and giving you a kiss. it tastes just like you, the sultry memory that will live in yoongi’s brain for as long as it’s able.

he tries to kiss you once more, but you’re pushing him away. “i gotta go, yoongi,” you giggle. his hands holding you close to him, your back pressed against his front door as you kiss each other sloppily. “yoongi!” you smile, more laughs erupting as he helps you open the door. as soon as the door slides open, yoongi’s eyes move behind you, a sly smile on his face.

you turn to see your three band mates, all of their mouths agape. “i fucking told you! pay up, idiots!” seulgi smacks the both taehyung and jungkook’s shoulders.

your face blushes tomato red. you try to hide your face as you open your apartment door. before you turn the key, you hear yoongi congratulate the four of you. “good luck at your label meeting! make sure they don’t scam you,” he advises. your bandmates laugh, thanking yoongi and moving into your apartment. they don’t let you live down the embarrassment for the entire night.

when you come back home, you sit on your couch. a smile taking over your face when you think about how great the day was. you think the dinner went perfect, and when you hear a knock on your door, it has you rushing to open it.

yoongi stands outside your door with a cupcake and a single lit candle stuck in it. “congratulations!— it went well right?”

you stand in front of him, a sweet smile on your face as you nod. “i think they loved us,” you pull him into your apartment.

“of course they did! you guys are amazing!” yoongi hugs you, holding the cupcake above your head so it doesn’t get in your hair.

the rest of the night you and yoongi enjoy each other’s presence and the two of you talk about everything and nothing.

yoongi says the cupcake is just for you, but you take a knife and split it, “for us.” you give him a quick peck before eating your half, and then kissing him once more.

for us. it repeats in yoongi’s mind.

us.

yeah, he’d like that.

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jellyfishloveletterghosts · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Man Part 1

Mrs. Annette Harrington (@neonponders I liked the name you used for her so much I decided to start using it 🥰) decides to buy Steve a companion android to both protect and care for him.

Build-A-Man Part 1

Mrs. Harrington looks at the model of androids on display, nothing here sparking any interest, none of these floor models are good enough for her baby. She wanders around a little more looking for a sales associate she knows when she spots the owner himself coming in, a large man with a busy mustache and mods that blend perfectly undetectable to the naked eye. As soon as he spots her he is smiling widely and walking over to her waving off an associate that is about to come to her aid and no doubt treat her like some common fare.

"Annette what brings you in today?" Mr. Harold Perkins asks a longtime family friend, their children grew up together practically inseparable in their youth and remain best friends to this day.

"I'm looking for something special for Steven." Annette says lips going flat, it has only been a month since her husband's latest bad business deals got Steve nearly kidnapped. He was already a bit of a shut in and recluse dedicating all his time to writing but somehow they had still found him and she cannot just leave him without protection and maybe someone to keep him company.

"I take it you didn't find anything up to your standards out here, come with me I have a selection of one of a kinds in my back office and of course we can upgrade any of them with the bodyguard package." Mr. Perkins says holding an arm out for her to take well in the know about what happened to Steve, Carol had taken nearly two weeks off work to keep an eye on him to sooth her own worries.

"He's never had an interest in owning an android so it has to be exceptional and attractive of course. Oh and affectionate, I worry he isn't getting enough attention especially after his last break up." They share thinly valid looks of disgust, Steve’s last few partners have not been good enough for him but the last one had left a lasting mark and made Steve unwilling to even try these days.

“All of our models can also be upgraded with the love package.” Mr. Perkins points out as he leads her through his office into his personal store room. It’s a large room but Mr. Perkins is a collector of sorts always looking for that special model of android and the place is littered with them. He tries to keep them organized, keep them from ending up pushed together but sometimes when he is tinkering with one he needs space and they end up with their limbs tangled together and pressed into the corners of the room.

“It has to be more than that, you know how he is, he needs something beyond the basic love package, he’ll get all squeamish otherwise. Assertive, he needs an assertive android that’s going to take care of all his needs, not just intercourse and protection.” Annette says as she looks over the closest huddle of androids, most of them are too bland for her taste, too ordinary, not nearly attractive enough for her Steven.

Mr. Perkins hums as he walks over to a corner carefully activating and moving models out of the way so he can find what he is looking for. “I might have an idea, technically this model isn’t for sale. Got taken off the market and the rest destroyed but it might be what you are looking for.” He says dragging Annette’s attention away from another crop of androids she has no interest in, not for Steven, she does spy a pretty dark harried one she may want to drag home for her own enjoyment. She shakes her head, she is here for Steve not herself.

“Why such extreme measures?” She asks as she steps away from the corners and follows the sound of his voice through the mess.

“This particular model had a habit of becoming too invested in its human companions.” Mr. Perkins says as he finds the one he is looking for, attractive and well built in every way, a model he is sure Steve will appreciate the look of. He pushes the button behind its ear, holding until bright blue eyes blink open, head cocking slightly as it waits for a command.

“It didn’t hurt them?” Annette asks as she finds him through the throng of androids and sees the model he is moving out of the corner before he starts moving the other models back out of the way. She moves closer to the model in question, it is certainly attractive, all golden tan skin pulled tight over muscle, she moves in closer and spies the freckles dusting it’s skin, yes definitely attractive enough for her son.

“Oh no, nothing like that. From the records jealousy was an issue with this model, possessiveness, it’s a foreign model, from a small company that went under, it never made it here but from what I could find none of the android's human companions were injured. The only humans hurt by this model were ones trying to hurt or take away their companions.” Mr. Perkins explains as he moves back over and directs the android over to sit on a bench. Mrs. Harrington follows after him, watching as Harold presses a few select spots on the android's chest and the skin starts splitting away from the left side of its ribs revealing a glowing screen and several plugins.

“That actually sounds perfect.” Annette says as she watches the android being plugged in and sees the screen flash with the model name, The Billy 1.0, before it goes blank for a second and then a list of menu options come up.

“I thought so.” Mr. Perkins says, sharing a grin with her as he hands over a tablet full of behavior modifying program options. “Now how about we build Stevie the perfect companion.”

Steve is sleeping, passed out on the couch, television on and pages from his latest draft sticking to his face as banging on his door startles him awake. He flails hard and falls in the space between the coffee table and the couch, elbow catching a hard edge and making pain shoot up his arm. Steve lays there for a long moment, hand protectively cupped over his throbbing elbow as the banging continues.

Steve thinks distantly that the noise should scare him but it does not, in his experience people trying to hurt you do not bother knocking. He stays laying there hoping whoever it is will just go away. He does not feel like getting up to answer the door. He hears the sound of keys in the door and the lock clicking and wonders who it is, his mother or Carol?

He gets his answer a few moments later “Steven? Where are you, I know you’re here, your car is in the driveway.” The, you have not left the house in weeks, goes unsaid. It is not like he left all that much before content to stay in, away from crowds, he has never particularly liked them, lost one too many times by his father as a kid. But after the kidnapping attempt and the investigation showing that they had been watching him for weeks before hand, he just cannot help feeling like he is being watched when he goes outside, a nagging worry plaguing him.

Steve does not answer but he does not need to as his mother comes into view a few moments later standing over the back of the couch and looking down on him with equal parts worry and disapproval. “Have you been sleeping on the couch again, it’s bad for your back.” She says, eyes narrowed as they flick to the clock on the wall and Steve knows she is barely restraining herself from complaining that he is sleeping the day away.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Steve lies, judging by the purse of her lips as she looks over him the creases pressed into his skin are still very obvious giving him away. “I wasn’t!” He denied again, finally moving from his prone position, sitting up and being careful of his elbow as he tosses his draft on the table.

“Right and when is the last time you ate? You look like you’ve lost weight again.” Mrs. Harrington asks with a sigh, it has only been a few days since she last saw him but she would swear he has lost a few pounds and she does not like the bags under his eyes, he looks like he is not getting enough rest, is not taking care of himself.

“I’m fine mom.” Steve says with a sigh, it is better than trying to answer, he is not actually sure when he ate last, he forgets sometimes, just gets caught up in what he is doing, he is sure he ate sometimes last night but he cannot remember what he ate or when that was.

“Are you sure? You look like shit.” Steve flinches as he suddenly becomes aware that there is another person in his home, a beautiful man coming up to stand next to his mother and looking him over.

“Billy be polite.” Annette huffs but honestly Billy is right, Steve does look terrible and it just makes her sure that he needs Billy in his life to take care of him.

“I’m going to make you something to eat, hopefully you have something that isn’t just processed sugar around here. You’re going to lose your ass if you don’t eat better.” Billy says, ignoring Annette, she showed him pictures of Steve before bringing him here, he knows what his new human companion is supposed to look like and it is not this. Billy is not going to let him waste away, he is here to take care of him, a job he takes very seriously and Billy has always been an ass man. Billy turns on his heel heading for the kitchen as Steve splutters up at his mother.

“Who the fuck is that?” Steve hisses, cheeks ruddy with embarrassment as he tries to remember when he last showered, he really hopes the answer is sometime yesterday but he is pretty sure these clothes are at least two days old.

“That’s Billy your new companion, I picked him out with the help of Mr. Perkins.” Annette informs him painted mouth grinning widely, both of them can hear Billy in the kitchen complaining about the contents of the fridge.

“Mom I don’t want a companion, if I wanted an android I would have bought one myself.” Steve hisses flushing and this is worse than her just bringing some stranger into his home unannounced. What the hell is he supposed to do with a companion and why is it so annoyingly attractive, Steve pouts.

“Too bad because you fucking need one. Do you have anything that isn’t microwavable in your freezer?” Billy shouts from the kitchen and Steve lets himself sink down against the floor, because no, no he does not because he never learned how to cook and every time he tries he burns it or starts a fire and he is pretty sure Hopper if going to murder him if he sets the place on fire again.

“He’s here to protect and take care of you baby.” Annette says as she slides onto the couch and holds a hand out for Steve, he takes it and lets her pull him back toward sitting up, resting his head against her knee as she slides her hand through his hair. “Something you obviously need.” She says when her hand touches his greasy locks. “When’s the last time you showered?”

Steve whines at the question, he does not know okay, he does not have an answer, just a guess he does not want to admit to. He just gets distracted and who cares if it has been days, no one is usually here to judge him for it. “Alright baby, you go take a shower, wash your hair, and I’m going to go to the store with Billy so we can get you something that isn’t gummy bears and tv dinners.” Steve pouts and presses his head harder against her knee, a shower actually sounds good, he is feeling kind of grimy but why did she have to go and get him an android, he can take care of himself, really he can, he just, he has not felt up to doing much lately.

“Are you deaf, go get in the shower before you start attracting flies.” Billy pipes in entirely too close and Steve jerks, narrowly missing knocking into the android hovering over him. Steve narrows his eyes, he is pretty sure androids do not have a sense of smell.

“Billy don’t make me take you back to the shop.'' Annette threatens but she is not being sincere. Steve can read it as she tries not to laugh with a bitten off smile. Billy just scoffs at her and rolls his eyes like he knows it is empty too and Steve cannot help staring intrigued at such a casual human gesture. It makes him notice the freckles dusting Billy’s cute nose and he flushes, shaking his head as Billy grins down at him like he knows Steve finds him attractive. Steve decides making an escape is better than arguing and being under that intense gaze any longer so he finally climbs to his feet and hurries to the bathroom, and it feels like he is being watched but it does not set unease in him the way it does when he walks outside alone.

Part 2

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #fanfiction #St fic #Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington #Android Billy Hargrove #wip #wip wendesday

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

piano lessons || soft!dark Frank Adler x reader

multiple requests for soft!dark Frank Adler led me to write this today, hope you guys enjoy!

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (dub con!!), drinking, semi-public dub con touching, Frank being a bit creepy/pushy, slight obsession/yandere vibes?, that’s pretty much it, sorta short but hey it was unexpected

PIANO LESSONS, for children and adults

take one!

Frank examined the sign as he pulled one of the tabs from the bottom, pocketing the phone number and not even thinking about it again for a few hours. If only he’d known once he met you that his life would never be the same.

“My piano teacher says that it’s important to practice every day,” Mary reminded him firmly as she swung her legs on the wooden bench.

“Yes, but I don’t think the owner of this store likes us coming in here to practice on pianos with no intention to buy one,” Frank countered, noticing the way the old man was glaring at them from across the room.

“Then we should buy one!”

“Mary, we can’t afford a piano,” Frank chuckled.

“Maybe we can go to my teacher’s house! She has three pianos,” Mary remembered.

Frank figured you would charge for daily practices, but when he called in desperation, you actually took pity on them. And that was how he ended up seeing you every night, so Mary could practice on a real piano.

“Thanks again for letting us do this,” Frank nodded to you quietly as you both sat on your couch, hearing Mary’s practice from across the hall.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured, “she’s my best student, and she has a real talent and love for it. She’s always welcome here.”

“Am I?” Frank pressed, and he loved your smile as you laughed.

“Until she can drive herself,” you answered jokingly.

“Since you won’t let me pay you for daily practices, I insist you let me buy you dinner instead,” he offered.

“Alright,” you agreed, “I can do that.”

A week later, he showed up at your door with a 6-pack and Thai takeout.

“Dinner in!” you realized with a smile.

“The best kind,” he agreed, stepping in and setting it on the table. “I got a bit of everything since I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“You’re too kind,” you sighed, sounding a little enamored already. This was going so much better than he’d planned.

As the night went on, and the beers were emptied, you started to get a little more comfortable with him. He moved to sit a little closer to you on the couch, even putting his arm around the back when you sat up to put your empty bottle down on the table.

You seemed to notice that he was a little closer than before, looking down shyly as he leaned in a bit.

“Mary loves you, you know,” he reminded you in a low voice, loving the way you looked so flustered all of a sudden. “It’s hard for her without a mother figure.”

He watched as you bit your lip slightly, nodding and meeting his gaze again with those sweet, innocent eyes.

“It’s hard for me, too, without somebody to... share all this with, somebody to talk to, to hold at night...” he trailed off, letting his finger brush over your cheek.

“Frank,” you gasped, blinking rapidly as he leaned in.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered back, cradling your jaw in his hand as he pressed his lips against yours.

For a moment you started to push back against his shoulders, but your resistance was lost quickly as you began to kiss him back, the taste of you distinct behind the aftertaste of beer.

His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap; he deepened the kiss carefully, wrapping his arms around you when he felt your hips rocking slightly against his.

Just as he started to move his grip down to your ass, guiding your movements, he kissed his way down to your neck as you moaned quietly.

“Frank, we shouldn’t—” you began to mumble.

“Shh,” he soothed, biting down on your pulse just enough to make you whimper.

He let his touch wander up your shirt, fingers teasing around your bra until he finally reached under it as well and groped your tits in his palms. “Ohh, fuck,” you moaned, and he realized he’d never heard you swear before.

It made his cock hard instantly.

He flipped you down onto the couch, slotting his body between your legs as he caged you in between his arms. “Fuck,” he groaned as he pressed his hips down against you, feeling the warmth of you against his cock even through his jeans and your shorts.

Your hands reached up to squeeze his biceps, and he grinned proudly; he’d caught you staring at his muscles a few times before, which is why he was sure to wear a shirt that showed off the guns tonight.

But it was time for it to go, so he sat up quickly to pull it off over his head, laughing when you gasped audibly at the sight of his tattoos.

“I knew you were hiding something under those hawaiian shirts,” you giggled.

“And what are you hiding?” he purred, pushing your shirt up to get a glimpse at what he’d only felt so far. He growled a little at the sight of your nipples already hard, looking perfectly pinchable which is exactly what he did, making your back arch. After a moment of that, he leaned down to suck one into his mouth eagerly.

“Ohh my god,” you breathed, “Frank, fuck…”

“So sensitive,” he praised, reaching down to pull down your shorts roughly.

When he had you bottomless, your shorts and underwear thrown aside, he licked his lips and spread your legs.

“Oh, baby,” he grinned, “what a pretty pussy you’ve got, and you’re already so wet… all for me?”

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” you rushed suddenly as his hands moved up your thighs, and he shook his head.

“It’s not,” he promised sternly. His thumb pressing against your clit seemed to get you back on track, your eyes fluttering shut as you took a shaky breath.

He teased you that way for a bit longer, but his cock throbbing in his jeans reminded him of his own needs, and he stopped to quickly open his button and fly— you watched him nervously, making a poorly-hidden face of shock when he took his cock out and stroked it slowly.

“What do you think?” he asked with a smirk, watching your pussy flex a little all on its own.

“Um… I’ve never…” you stammered. “S’big.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning forward to rub the head over your clit for a moment, finally sliding down to just barely breach your entrance.

“W-wait, do you have a condom?” you asked quickly.

He pretended not to hear you as he pushed forward, groaning at the feeling of you— hot, and silky, and gripping him so damn tight he could barely breathe. “Baby,” he whispered, capturing you in another kiss as he thrusted slowly, savoring every inch of you.

Your body shivered beneath him, but it certainly wasn’t from the cold. If anything you were burning up, your skin warm to the touch as he grabbed your tits again and sucked a mark onto your neck.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demanded roughly. “Tell me how my cock feels inside you.”

“So good,” you breathed, “so… so deep…”

He grinned and placed his hand on your lower stomach, pushing down so he, too, could feel how deep he was inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you choked on your breath, and he became more determined than ever to see you like this every day from now on. “Anybody ever fucked you this good before?” he asked darkly, confident already in the answer.

“N-no, Frank,” you shook your head, “no, just you…”

“Gonna ruin you,” he promised through his teeth, “for anyone but me.”

The shock on your face made it obvious you weren’t used to or expecting that kind of talk, but the way wetness seeped out around his cock until it was dripping down his balls also made it obvious you liked it.

“Oh, sweetheart, I can feel you getting tighter… you gonna come?”

You nodded, sweet little whimpers falling from your lips every time he buried himself in you; he grabbed your hips for leverage and began moving even faster, harder, slamming his hips into yours. Your back arched as your head fell back, your moans getting louder and higher-pitched until he watched you crash down all at once, one more gasp of his name that made his heart clench.

“Fuck, so pretty when you come for me,” he groaned, brutal in his movements now as he chased his own high. “Gonna make me come, too, beautiful, so fuckin’ hard…”

Your legs wrapped around his hips and he smiled proudly, knowing you wanted it deep inside you— and he was happy to provide, in fact he was already about to bust and he normally had much better stamina. But it was different with you; everything was different with you.

Including his orgasms, apparently, because he already felt his whole body getting all tense and tingly as he drew close to the peak, your pussy trying to milk him for all he was worth with the contractions around him: you felt like heaven, honestly, and now that he’d had a taste he was never gonna let you go.

He stuttered out his moan as he finally filled you, his cock flexing as more come than even he had expected poured into you. You breathed heavily against his ear, your arms weakly pulling him closer, and he smiled before giving you another slow kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised with a whisper against your ear.

And he did. He saw you every day, because of Mary’s need to practice, and every time you tried to resist him but failed completely.

“Frank, stop,” you breathed as you tried to push his hand off your thigh, “she could hear something.”

“She’s busy playing, she won’t hear anything,” he dismissed, “as long as you can stay quiet… it might be hard for you, though, we know how much you love to moan my name when I make you come…”

He slipped two fingers inside your panties— honestly, the fact that you were trying to act like you didn’t want it when you were wearing a dress, giving him such easy access, was laughable yet adorable— and found your clit right away, circling it slowly as your breathing sped up a bit.

“Yeah, is that how you like it honey?” he cooed right against your ear, pulling your body closer to his until you were basically sitting in his lap. “Nice and slow?”

You didn’t answer, so he gave you a spank right on your clit that nearly made you yelp; but you kept it down, like the good girl you were. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“I like it however you do it, Frank,” you finally whispered back, and fuck if it didn’t go straight to his cock.

“Ohh, sweet girl,” he groaned, “tryna make me fuck you right here, huh?”

“Y-you wouldn’t,” you gasped.

“I could,” he shrugged. “I could get my cock out, plant you right on my lap and bounce you on my cock until you come for me… wouldn’t even take you that long, I bet.”

Just when you almost seemed ready to agree to it, he took his fingers out of your underwear and readjusted your dress back to covering you properly.

“But, unfortunately, we’re out of time,” he grinned as he kissed your ear and lifted you out of his lap, setting you on the couch beside him before he stood up. Just as he had predicted, the piano music in the distance stopped and Mary came bounding into the room.

“I’m done practicing!” she announced.

“Then I guess I’ll… see you tomorrow,” you mumbled back, struggling to compose yourself much to his delight.

“I really like her,” Mary explained as he guided her back to the truck, and he chuckled a little.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, looking back at the door and knowing he’d be here again soon for another day of piano practice.

#soft!dark frank adler #soft!dark frank adler x reader #dark!frank adler x reader #6k party

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hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years

Text

Magenta Lilacs

Han Jisung x reader; non idol AU; 1.5k words; super fluffy, mild crack

A/N: I've written a couple of rather angsty scenarios recently, and I figured I need a more fluff something now. And who better for a fluff than our quokka?

"How do I look?," you ask your best friend Seungmin as he helps you get dressed for your date with your crush, Han Jisung, later that evening.

You and Jisung have crushing on each other for almost a year now, and while it was painfully obvious to every single one of your friends, you two remained blissfully oblivious to the other's feelings. That is until Felix, your classmate and Jisung's best friend, locked you two in a broom closet, refusing to let you out until you kissed. The kiss was... memorable to say the least, being equal parts awkward and sweet. When Felix finally did let you out, Jisung shyly asked you out on a date. Nothing too fancy, just some coffee at the campus cafe. You guys have been hanging out frequently since that day, and today would be your fourth date. You're going to the yearly carnival, and you can't help but feel fireworks going off in your stomach at the thought of finally confessing your true feelings to Jisung, something that Seungmin has dared you to do tonight.

"If you're gonna go on your date looking like that, I'm afraid you won't be able to confess tonight, babe." You whip around at that, confused. "Because Hanji is gonna pass out as soon as he sees you," he smiles, before setting your hair properly. You shove him playfully, before saying, "I'm nervous, Minnie. What if he's not ready yet? What if the dates are just casual outings for him? What if I mess everything up?" "Hey hey hey," he says, grabbing your shoulder. "Take a deep breath. You're gonna be okay, and trust me. He's just as serious about these dates as you are. He'll be your boyfriend before midnight strikes tonight. And on that note, don't you dare stay out after midnight, young lady," your best friend says suddenly, with mock strictness, making you shake your head at his antics.

As if on cue, your doorbell rings, telling you that Jisung has arrived to pick you up. You hug Seungmin goodbye, and open the door, revealing Jisung standing there, looking gorgeous in a denim jacket with a plain white T-shirt. You catch yourself staring at him, and, once you step out of your trance, you notice that he's doing the same. You smile and snap your finger in front of him, making him scratch his neck in embarrassment. "You look really nice today, Ji," you smile. He replies, "You look very cute too, Y/N," making you blush. "Ready to go?," he asks. "Lead the way!," you say. You walk to the festival in comfortable silence, occasionally talking about random stuff. After a while, you notice that he slips his hand into yours, making you stop short. He stops too, and starts removing his hand from yours. You grip his hand tighter, while softly saying, "They fit together really well." He smiles at this, and you continue walking. Once there, you both drag each other towards different stalls that pique your interest. You bring him along to a shooting game, winning him a teddy bear. Jisung then brings you along to a flower shop, telling you about their meanings. "These magenta lilacs are my personal favourite," he tells you. "What do they mean?," you ask. "Love and passion," he says shyly. You bite your lip, just as the shop owner says, "Go on, buy them. These flowers are all the rage among young lovers these days, and you two sure make a cute pair." You both start blushing, before Jisung silently thanks the shop owner and buys a bouquet of the flowers. "Thank you, I really love them," you say. The two of you visit many other stalls. Laughing at the house of mirrors, sharing a single candyfloss, having a competition to see who can eat a plate of dumplings the fastest, you guy lose track of time, and soon enough, it's a quarter to twelve. "Let's go to the ferris wheel," you suggest, thinking back on the plan Seungmin had been feeding into your brain for the past two days. "That's funny, because I was just going to suggest the same thing," smiles Jisung. Unbeknownst to you, Felix had set him up to the exact same task that Seungmin had assigned you, with the both of them hoping that even if one of you chickens out, the other will end up confessing. With that, you get in line, and by the time it's five minutes to midnight, it's your turn to board the ride. You feel your hands shaking, but thankfully from nervousness for what's to come, but thankfully, Jisung takes your hand into his at exactly that moment, helping you relax. "What's the worse that could happen, right?," you mentally ask yourself. Your brain replies, "Oh nothing much, he could just reject you, giving you the most awkward five minutes of your life. Or, the ride could suddenly break down, killing you all." You scrunch your nose at the pessimistic thoughts, but don't have much time to ponder over them, as your ride starts. Two minutes to twelve, and you two are just sitting there in silence. This is the first time during the date that the silence has felt awkward, and it doesn't do much to ease your nerves. Once your watch strikes twelve, you turn to look at Jisung, only to find him already looking at you. "Ji, I have something-" "Y/N, I wanted to tell you-," you both start at the same time, causing the both of you to giggle. "You first," he says. "Okay, so here goes," you start, closing your eyes. "We've been on quite a few dates now, and I've really enjoyed the past month and a half of spending time with you. You're so smart, cool, funny, witty, sweet, soft, and every other good adjective, with just the right amount of loudness. I love hanging out with you, and spending time with you. Being with you makes me feel giddy inside, and I think I know what this feeling is," you open your eyes right before your big confession, but instead of your next line, you end up saying, "What?," with a confused expression. "What?," Jisung asks, tilting his head. "You're looking at me funny," you say, causing him to laugh nervously. "Oh, uhm, yeah, because I kind of, know

what you're gonna say next," he says, rubbing his neck. "You do? How?," you ask, with an even more confused expression. "Because I've been practicing the exact same lines for the past two days, minus the adjectives, of course. Because I had a different set of those ready," he says, shy all of a sudden. "Look, let me come clean," he continues, "I like you, a hell lot. And I've been trying to confess to you, so Felix created a plan for me to tell you how I feel, today at midnight. I was going to say the exact same things you said just now, and finish with a super smooth, 'A new day is just starting, so how about we make this the start of a new relationship for us, as well?,' but I guess you beat me to it." By the time he's done, you are staring at him with your mouth agape. "I was going to say the exact same thing too!! And it was Seungmin who suggested this to me," you exclaim. Just then, you both realize that your turn at the ferris wheel is over, and you get off the ride. After walking a few feet, Jisung stops you. "So, if you were going to say the same things, then does that mean you like me too?," he asks nervously. "Of course Hanji, is that even a question?," you giggle. "So what does that mean for us?," he asks with a smile. You give him a small hug, before whispering in his ear, "I guess I'm gonna start calling you my 'boyfriend' now." "I'd like that," he says, hugging you back, before taking your hand again. "In all honesty though, Seungmin and Felix are dead meat," you laugh, with him joining in.

Once the two of you stop laughing, you realize how close your faces are. You stare at him, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and back. This doesn't escape his notice, and he softly asks you, "Is it okay if I kiss you?," you simply nod, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is equal parts soft and sweet. It is just like you had imagined. Your lips molded perfectly together, and he tasted like the candyfloss you had eaten earlier. You smile into the kiss, which makes his shoulders, that he didn't know were tense, relax. When you finally break away, he pulls you in for another hug, kissing your forehead softly.

"Should they be dead meet though? I feel like we should be thanking them for daring us to confess, or else I don't know how many more dates it would have taken. Although I admit, the dialog they came up with was way too cheesy," Jisung says. To this, you reply by snuggling into his chest even more. "Might as well be the reason why they don't have partners yet. But we'll think about them tomorrow. For now, you're all that's on my mind."

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luckysevenwrites · 3 years

Text

I don’t want to keep things casual

Yuta is off traveling for work, Y/n is keeping busy with their job, and both of them are struggling with being apart from one another. When Yuta calls Y/n and Yuta have a conversation about their relationship and what they want from one another.

Part of the long term couples series

Walking through the house you have recently purchased you scribble down notes of parts of the home you are going to update, walls that are going to be removed, and any other ideas that filter through your mind as you pass each room. You could hear your partner in the front of the house talking to the rest of your team about when they should be here and if they would be working under you or him. Their voices fade as you enter the master bedroom. You loved this room it was the whole reason that you had wanted to buy the house in the first place. It was at the back of the house and had large French doors that led out to a patio.

In your head you were picturing the future owner of this home waking up and walking through those doors and out onto the patio where they would sit in comfy chairs and eat their breakfast while sipping coffee. There would be lazy weekend mornings where they would spend their whole time out there enjoying the beauty of their yard and each other’s company. Your plan was to make the rest of the house feel as calmly as this bedroom and patio made you feel. It was going to be a lot of work the previous owner had not taken care of the place and let a lot slip. You could see the potential in this home and your partner could see it as well. That was why after walking through the home one time the two of you had put an offer in.

This project had come at the perfect time. It was going to require a lot of attention and was the perfect distraction from Yuta. The two of you had agreed on just being friends with benefits. Yet, you found yourself wanting to be around him all the time and wanting to get to know him better and he seemed to be on the same page as you. When he had told you that he was going to be gone for a few weeks you had thought that it would be good for the two of you. It would remind you both that you were supposed to keep things casual. In reality all the separation has done is make you realize how much you want to be with him and miss him.

“Y/n you done with your walk through?” Turning towards the doorway Alex stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes accessing the room before they land on you. “I sent the team home and told them that we would get started tomorrow on everything.”

“Thanks, and I think I have everything down that we need. I might do one more walk through just to make sure we haven’t missed anything. Are you heading out or staying?”

“I got to head out. I promised the boyfriend that we would have date night tonight since I canceled our last one and I can’t miss this one. He might break up with me this time if I cancel.” You laugh at that there was no way that Alex’s boyfriend would break up with him. They loved each other completely and it would take more than a canceled date to break up the two of them.

“Alright, tell Jun hi for me,” you hug Alex and walk with him back to the front of the house.

“I will and he told me to tell you that you are not fooling anyone, and he wants to meet whoever you’re seeing soon,” your mouth drops open at that statement. How in the world did he know that you were seeing someone? You hadn’t told anyone about Yuta and had made sure not to give anything away about you seeing someone.

“Don’t ask how he knows. I’ve learned to stop questioning his skills a long time ago. Just talk to whoever it is and let them know that their time as remaining a mystery is numbered.” Alex bumps his shoulder into yours before heading down the walkway. You watch as he gets into his car and drives off before turning back to the house to do your final walkthrough.

As your writing down some ideas that you have for the kitchen your phone starts to ring. Looking over at it you smile as you see Yuta’s smiling face on the screen, requesting that you facetime with him. Picking up the phone you answer the call and hold it up to your face. In a few seconds you see Yuta’s smiling face, hair fanned out as he lays on his bed. Just looking at him steals your breath away and you are once again reminded how much you have been missing him these past two weeks.

“Hi, did you just get back to your hotel?”

“Hmm,” Yuta nods, “today was busy and I’m going to sleep but I wanted to talk to you and see your face before I did.”

“Ah have you been missing me?” you coo while leaning onto the counter.

“I have a lot actually,” Yuta admits, and you smile back at him.

“I’ve been missing you a lot as well,” the admission comes out easier than you thought it would. You hadn’t planned on telling him that you were missing him but hearing him say it made it easier for you to tell him how you were feeling.

“So much for keeping things casual,” Yuta laughs, and you join him. The two of you were ridiculous for thinking that this was going to be casual and for only realizing now that you’ve spent weeks apart that you don’t want to be without the other.

“I think we were doomed from the start. We should have known from the moment that we had breakfast together that we weren’t going to be able to keep things casual,” thinking back to that morning you remember how you had felt when you saw him in your bed and then taken him to breakfast. You didn’t want your time with him to end and that should have been your first clue that the two of you were never going to be able to keep things casual. There was already so much chemistry between the two of you and the more time the two of you spent together the stronger your connection got.

“It’s your fault if you wouldn’t have shared your breakfast with me, I would have dropped you right then and there,” stresses Yuta, you roll your eyes at that comment.

“No, you wouldn’t of. You have been falling for me from the moment we met!” A blush starts to appear on Yuta’s cheeks, and he looks off to the side avoiding eye contact with you. When he looks back at you, you raise your eyebrows up challenging him to say otherwise.

“Where are you by the way?” Yuta leans up closer to the phone like he is trying to get a better look at your surroundings and effectively changing the subject. “That’s not your place.”

“It’s not I’m at work,” you confirm.

“Work is someone else’s kitchen? Just what is your job?”

“Nope nice try but I’m not telling you anything. If anyone is going to win this bet, it’s going to be me.” You stress.

“Come on you should tell me since I’m the one who admitted first that I miss you and can’t do the casual thing.”

“You didn’t admit that you don’t want to do casual you just admitted to missing me and sucking at keeping things casual,” you point out not wanting to let him win this argument.

“Fine,” Yuta sits up and brings the phone close to his face, looking straight into the phone and locking his eyes with yours Yuta says, “Y/n I miss you all the time and I don’t want to keep things casual between the two of us. I want to be with you all the time. I want to tell my friends that I’m with you. I want to go out on dates with you instead of just holing up in your place with you. I want more. How’s that for an admission?”

Dam you should not have challenged him. How were you supposed to respond to that? You were not expecting him to just lay it all out like that.

“Um it was pretty good,” you stutter, “but I’m still not telling you what my job is.”

Throwing his head back Yuta laughs. You could watch him laugh forever you think, and you find yourself bringing the phone closer to you just to enjoy his face and laughter more.

“Alright I’ll let it go for now. But I’m going to figure it out eventually. Especially since we aren’t keeping things casual anymore you can’t hide it from me forever.”

“You can’t keep yours hidden forever anymore either! If we are really going to do this, I’m going to find out your job as well. And we can’t have secret between us anymore. Relationships are a completely different thing from hook ups.” You inform him wanting Yuta to know that if you two are really going to move from casual to an actual relationship that things are going to be different.

“Oh, don’t worry Y/n I know that things will be different. I’m counting on it,” there’s a glint in Yuta’s eyes and you are starting to wonder what you have gotten yourself into.

“Guess we’ll see who figures it out first,” you tell him not wanting to give in and enjoying the silly game the two of you are playing.

“I guess we will! I should probably get going. I have another busy day ahead of me,” Yuta frowns and you understand how he feels. You don’t want to end the call either.

“How much longer are you going to be gone?” You ask.

“Two more weeks and then when I get back, I’m taking you out on an actual date,” you smile widely at that. An actual date with Yuta you couldn’t wait.

“Hurry back then,” Yuta nods and right before the two of you end the call you remember what Alex told you and you get a wicked idea, “oh and before I forget you have to meet two of my friends, they already know about us!”

“What?” Yuta practically shouts, his eyes wide. You laugh as you give him a wave goodbye and end the call. Laying your phone down you smile at it as you think over the conversation that the two of you had.

When you answered the call, you had figured it would just be the two of you flirting with one another and making plans to get together when he returned. You did not think that it would lead to the two of you admitting that you miss one another and want more. You definitely did not think that it would lead to Yuta telling you that he wants an actual relationship with you and then him telling you that when he returns, he would be taking you out on an actual date. Your phone pings and you see a message from Yuta.

Yuta: If I have to meet your friends you have to meet mine. They were onto me weeks ago

Laughing you reply to Yuta and shake your head at yourself. How the two of you thought you could ever do casual was beyond you. You were both clearly bad at it, from hiding it from others, to keeping your feeling in check it was a failure a wonderful failure.

@readers-posts

#nct 127 imagines #nct 127 reactions #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 oneshots #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 fanfic #yuta x you #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #yuta fluff #yuta imagines #yuta reactions #yuta scenarios #yuta oneshot #yuta drabbles #yuta fanfic

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givemethatgold · 4 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet! (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it.

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet.

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?”

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest.

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!”

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to.

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov

#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Catfish Morales #frankie x reader #catfish x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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demonictales · 4 years

Text

BITTERSWEET - XUE YANG X READER

this wasn't requested but i got this idea shortly before i fell asleep so i figured I'll give it a try and see where I'll land with it. let me know what you think, aite? characters briefly featured: nie huaisang, nie mingjue, wei wuxian, lan wangji about 3k words

TW: MURDER, CHILD ABUSE, DEATH

It was a bright day in Yueyang as you walked quietly next to your father, only sweet eight years of age. You were the youngest of clan leader Chang Ci'an's children, your older brother Chang Ping, at home complaining why you were allowed to follow your father to Yueyang on this day while he had to learn swordman ship. It was your birthday, so you begged your father to let you come along and you did. Looking out of the window of the ox cart you were riding the eyes of the young child were looking left and right, dazzling items everywhere. But the toy stall was mostly what caught your attention.

"Diē diè, can I have some toys?" The angel like soft tone of your voice making your father laugh heartily. " How much more do you want today ? " He responded patting the place next to him. "Pretty please? It's my eight birthday. -- " You argued. "After I am done with my business here we'll walk the market." It was his final word and you were more than happy. Perhaps you'd even bring something for your brother. Not long after spoken words and a few hours after midday you finally enjoyed the market running from stall to stall until a sweet scent filled your nostrils. Your eyes became big when you spotted the freshly baked sweet pastries on a stall, running for it and it seemed you weren't the only one being lured by the sweetness flowing through the air of the Yueyang market. Next to you stood a boy, probably around your age, a bit taller than you and not as clean. His clothes were ripped apart and dirty, a beggar you concluded. It kind of made you sad but you couldn't do anything about it. One of the servants had caught up and you ushered him to buy you some pastries, delightfully taking a bite as you saw the boy next to you eyeing them. He could take them off of you if he'd ran fast enought but fate had different plans. You handed him some, two pastries, because you wanted too. He seemed hungry and you hated the feeling of being hungry to an extrend that made your eight year old body angry in a different way. You'd throw quite the tantrums. Perhaps that came from being to spoiled by your father. And speaking of the devil here he came, voice rough and loud. " Boy, do you want some pastries? " Ci'an asked, but you knew his tone, he wanted something in return. Your father did not even let the boy speak at all while pulling out an envelope. " If you can deliever this letter, young boy, I'll buy you the pastries. Find me afterwards." That was something nice you thought to yourself. Making him word but giving him food as payment. What your naive little mind did not know was that your father had other plans in mind and simply kept walking away from the pastries stand, leaving you to walk around on your own for a little while longer before asking you to hop onto the cart again to leave for home as it was soon dinner time. Xue Yang did gladly do as he was told for he could have some sweets and finally some food in his stomach. Yet the encounter didn't go as planned, instead he was angering the recipient of the letter and the boy had to deal with the consequences. Being dragged to the nearby liquor shop next to the stall where pastries were sold Ci'an and his daughter were long gone, leaving a young naive boy hungry outside, waiting in despair for trusting people. All the boy wanted was something to eat, so he roamed the streets until he found the man and his ox cart, a girl's head looking out of the window excitedly as she spotted the boy. "Diē diè! Diē diè!" You spoke loudly, rushing your father to stop the cart as the boy was running behind. " The boy has returned. You have to buy him pastries now." Though, as naive as you were you saw another side of your father that day, changing moods from being so generous to annoyed and angry. You had never seen him like that. And he did not stop the cart, not until the boy ran in front of it, halting it on his own terms. The scene played in front of your innocent eyes, making you cry. This was not how you knew your father to be, not in your eyes. The sound of the whip beating flesh making you fall back onto the ground of the cart, begging your dad to stop as it scarred you. Crying like a coward, just like the display of your father made your anxiety well up. For far you enjoyed your day, your birthday. Getting more toys, even finding something for A-Ping, your older brother and even sharing pastries with the boy outside just to see it all turn into a small nightmare during day. The sudden movement of the cart made you fall back again onto the ground until you heard a scream from underneath. It was not something you wanted to ever hear again. But the yells from people

around reminded you of what your father had just done. 'How cowardly to hurt a child. ' ' He really has no shame. ' 'Chang Ca'in you bastard.' 'Stop involving others in your quarrels. ' Peaking outside, you only saw a small group of homeless people gather around the boy who's name you never learned. Lying on the ground bleeding in pain and agony, holding his hand while crying. If you could only help him as you rode further away from the scene, back home. The past few days did not change a lot, you practically begged your older brother or any servant to take you to YueYang to find the boy and eventually one servant gave in. It took you a lot of convincing but you tried your best to find the boy. You had packed a small bag with bread and cheese and fruit. It wasn't a lot but it should be enough for a day or two. You even stole money from your father, hopefully it was enough to let a doctor help him. Ever since that day you saw your father in different eyes and learnt quickly he wasn't as great as you thought he was. You were only eight but you grew up faster than you wanted it to be true. You had spent all morning trying to find the boy until noon, you asked any beggar on the street, any stall owner, anyone you could probably think of and find until you found him dozing near the liquor shop next to the pastries. Their sweet scent filing the air around you once more. Carefully you approached the young boy, afraid you might scare him. He looked peaceful lying there and you did not want to wake him up. He sure had to be in pain. As quietly as you could you put down the small bag with food next to him, along the way you even bought a small bottle he could fill up with water. You wanted to apologize for your father's actions but you did not want to disturb him so you whispered something while being crouched down next to him. "I'm really sorry, little brother. Please eat well and get treatment or medicine. I wish it would not have happened.. Hopefully, you can accept my sincere apology." Little did you know he was listening as your eyes scanned his hand, you could not imagine the pain he had gone through, but there wasn't much more that you could do. You knew you were in trouble if your father found out you apologized to a beggar, especially to someone he caused harm to. Yet no one but Xue Yang knew that the two of you would meet soon again.

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

You had soon learned to leave your home as fights with your father became bigger and more unbearable. You were ashamed to be a part of his cowardly behaviour and did not tolerate it. So eventually when you turned eighteen, you left the manor and roamed the cultivation world, working on yourself, getting to know yourself and making aquaintances. One of your aquaintances was Nie Huaisang. He was a refreshing young man you'd enjoy drinking with, leading you to meet Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng and even the most famous Lan Wangji along your journey. Nie Huaisang had become a good friend of yours, eventually you were a welcome guest at Qinghe. It was rare but welcomed, you saw him as family, a brother you enjoyed spending time with. Even now, you resided at Qinghe having Nie Mingjue talking sense into you for going back home on your mother's birthday and visiting her. Your father's reputation had spread wide and far over the years, making you embarrassed to even carry the last name of Chang but here you were, bowing to the clan leader and biding your farewell. Qinghe might never be your home nor would the Nie Clan ever be your family, but at least you had a place to stay and you were more than thankful of it. Many times had you spoken to Mingjue and expressed your thanks and all you could do was to repay his hospitality with loyalty. Hard to earn but easy to give and be accepted. Leaving at dawn it took you about two days to arrive at Yueyang. At the gates of a place you called home, though the atmosphere around it did make you shiver as you tigthly held onto your sword. Something seemed terribly off and it was a feeling you hadn't felt in years, nothing except one thing could compare to it. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, as you slowly approached the gates of what was once your home. Unbeknownst to you, someone was watching rather excitedly from the rooftop, ready to attack at any given moment. The quietness drove you mad as you kicked the door open, being greeted by hanging corpses yet the scenery of mass murder unfolded behind them. There was you clan, wiped out from existence. Elders, children, servants and anyone you once knew, lying in their own poodles of crimson colored blood. What happend? Who did this? Where was your brother? Where was your mother and your father? All security forgotten you run forward, looking for your parents. " Mother! --- Mother! " Unwillingly your vision became blurry as you stumbled through the corpses of what once belonged to your name. The stinging smell of death making it hard to breath. How many days were they laying there for already? A loud dull thud was heard as you fell to your knees, tears running silently down your pale cheeks as you cradled your mother's cold body to your chest, sobbing without content. Oh how he enjoyed the drama unfold in front of his eyes, better than any theater you could see at the market. Though even he did not let one person live, something about her seemed familiar. He could not pin point it, all he wanted was the revenge for what this man had done to his hand. It was worth the massacre and the now free show as he landed quietly a few feet behind her. She must've been the last remaining person of this god forsaken clan and his last victim to get full revenge. "I should never have let home in the first place. I'm so sorry, mother. I'm so sorry.." Your words were swallowed by your mothers dark hair. You would mourn her for a long time, she was a gentle lady. A few feet away you saw you father, nothing but anger welled up in you as you placed your mother down onto the cold ground, your robes stained by her blood. You had never felt this much rage or anger inside of you as you grabbed your sword, ready to hit whatever flew into your way. Standing above him, you could not hold one piece of respect for him. It was his fault again, for you to feel so painfully lost once more. " What kind of father are you? --- You cannot even protect your own wife. " Broken words had left your lips. " All because you were so cowardly, playing bigger than what

you could pay for. " Quietly those words left your lips, " Now we are no more. There is no more Chang clan, all because of your greed. " Out of nowhere someone started clapping, as if he waited for just the right moment. Faster than lightling you pulled out your sword, facing the young man in front of you, close to where you kneeled moments ago next to your mother's body. "What a tragedy! But brilliantly spoken. ----- It was indeed his fault. " Xue Yang crossed his arms behind his back as he came closer, step by step. " It seems I have not yet fully killed every single member of this clan. --- Who might you be? " He smiled mischieviously at you, but you answered either way. " Chang Y/N. -- Only daughter of clan leader Chang Ci'an. --- " "Today must be my lucky day then. I will for once and all end all of the clan members life. -- " Xue Yang dashed forward, a devilish smile as both of you fought amidst the chaos created by him. Usually something like that would excite you, you could flaunt your skills thought it was a different matter as you landed on the roof, holding him away from you. "What have we done to deserve being slaughtered?" You questioned him, not even bothering asking for his name in return. All you knew was that he had to die today, for the sake of your clan and that they may rest in peace. "Fine with me. " He grinned. as he held up his hand, turning it to look at it at every angle. Silently you watched as he turned around, voice raising. " Once upon a time there was a child, all he wanted was some food. ----- He met a men on the marked here in Yueyang, saying that if he'd delivered a letter, he'd buy him the pastries. As young and naive as the child was, he did so, the only thing on his mind was the food he would get. " The story seemed awfully familiar to you as you remembered the day, your eight birthday. "Though, he did as he was told, Chang Ci'an left without ever paying his debt to the boy. Instead the boy was beaten up, kicked out of the liqour shop and left hungry on the street. Dumb as he was, he confronted the man just ----" "--- just to get whipped and his hand crushed by an ox cart. " You finished his sentence as Xue Yang whipped around in curiousity, wondering how you knew. "You're the boy I met back then. The boy my father hurt. ------ " It was a moment of carelessness from your side, letting your guard down bit by bit. A change of attitute in your behaviour. " I came looking for you, to apologize. I left food and drink and even money to get yourself treatment. " Xue Yang's head was slightly tilted, oh he did remember, but that did not still his urge to have the clan burned down to ashes for what they did to him. She had shown him care indeed, but that was long forgotten he had no mercy, not the elders or children, not even you. "Why? --- Why di------" The sound of metal falling on the bricks of the roof filled the early evening. You had lost the grib on your sword when you looked down, the blade that pierced your back turned red with your blood dripping down, stopping you mid sentence. He had taken advantag of you being distracted, but could you blame him? No, you couldn't. Falling forward onto your knees, you started coughing up blood until you were kicked down, landing onto the stairs of the entrance, feeling the hit of the stone underneath you in your bones, shattering you into pieces from the pain you felt. Turning onto your back in pain, you saw him looking down at you. A huff left your lips, coughing again, quietly choking on the blood that filled your lungs. " What--- what is your--- name?" Words came out in pieces, all you could do was lay there, barely able to move as your own blood colored your robes in dark wet liquid that was warm. "Xue Yang!" "I'm sorry, little brother Xue Yang.." Your words were barely above a whisper as your head fell aside, your vision becoming darker by the second, all you remember was a young boy you once handed two pastries too because he seemed hungry. What you did not see was the smile that had left Xue Yang's features, the agony that

he enjoyed before hearing your words, the same words but with his name, the same words you'd spoken as you thought he was sleeping. In the end, you had the last word, not him. And your friend had to witness you and your clan being whipped out of existence, reporting to his brother that you had passed away at home being murdered.

For Xue Yang hearing those words being spoken lastly, it was everlasting terror.

#mdzs x reader #mdzs reader insert #xue yang x reader #cdrama x reader #the untamed x reader #mdzs x y/n #anime x reader #xue yang #mdzs: xue yang

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 years

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Day 5 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!! 🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: For the Love of My Husband

Summary: Bilbo is a thief and a conman who has tricked Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, to marry him as an escape from a tight spot. He thought their marriage was happily enough, but Thorin feels a disconnect from the hobbit he’s married. To appease his family and strengthen their bond, Thorin asks Bilbo to take the Trial of Souls with him. Problem is, Bilbo doesn’t want Thorin to know anything about him because they are most assuredly not Ones. And if Thorin learns the truth, Bilbo will find himself back in the streets or worse...

In a darkened pub deep under the kingdom of Erebor, a hobbit and a dwarf squared off. The waiting crowd was near silent as they waited to see what would happen next. The dark haired beast of a dwarf looked fairly confident as he shared a smirk with his two friends directly behind him.

“What’ll it be, Took? Fold or settle?”

The hobbit nonchalantly lifted his overturn cup to sneak a peek at the two dice lying inside.

“How about I raise you instead?”

It was silent for a moment before the dwarf, Drulik, burst into laughter followed by his cronies.

“Raise? You have nothing left to bet with.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Bilbo stated before pulling out a silver harp-shaped brooch with thin golden strings.

The dwarves surrounding the gamblers all began murmuring at once, some trying to lean in for a closer view.

“Is that…?” One of Drulik’s dwarves gaped.

“Yes.” Bilbo announced calmly. “The Courting Gift of our dearly departed queen, Mahal rest her soul.”

“How did you get that?” Drulik demanded.

Bilbo gave him a wane smile as he tucked back into his vest with a pat. “It doesn’t matter. The question you should be asking is how much do you think it’s worth?”

The gambling den awaited Drulik’s long drawn out answer. It almost made the hobbit want to roll his eyes at the melodrama. However, after years on the streets, he knew a good show could sometimes be the difference between success and failure. And Bilbo didn’t fail. Finally, Drulik pulled out another bag, spilling the golden coins onto the pile between them.

“Settle.” Drulik demanded before revealing the contents under his cup.

The crowd cheered and whistled much to Drulik’s ego at the combined total of eleven from his dice. Nine Rings was a gambling game loved by Durin’s Folk and Men alike with a very simple premise. Highest total won. So you bet and bluff to convince your opponent that you have as close to twelve beneath the cup as possible. However, there was one small exception. Nine always trumped any other number. Therefore, when Bilbo lifted his cup to reveal the five and four, there was a near frenzy of excitement. Drulik was rendered speechless as Bilbo lifted his pint in cheer before downing the ale all in one go. Producing a sack from his coat pocket, he raked all the golden coins towards him.

“Well lads, this has been more excitement than any hobbit can take, but I think I’m going to leave now while my fortunes are in my favor.”

“You cheated.” Drulik growled. “You had to have.”

“Check my dice if you wish.” Bilbo offered with a shrug.

The tavern owner, Nifror, who ran as honorable a den as one could for thieves and ruffians was at their table in a flash. Bilbo had heard a tale that the last dwarf who cheated at the game got their loaded dice pinned, one to each hand, with a knife made by Nifror’s wife. He threw the dice a few times and each time they landed with a different number. He shrugged.

“The hobbit’s clean.”

“But that’s impossible.” One of Drulik’s own gaped.

“Yeah, we loaded them ourselves!” The other snarled.

There was a pause and then Old Nifror was on them in a flash. Some moved to help the old barkeep out. The rest roared and placed bets on the winner. Meanwhile, Bilbo used this as the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He dropped the loaded dice he had smuggled into his pocket on the ground with a snort. Like he would be that stupid. Now most would have worried walking around with that much gold around the dregs of Erebor’s underworld. Fortunately, Bilbo was a professional at remaining quiet and unseen. A talent he had been forced to pick up early in his life. Which is why he nearly screamed when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Make a good haul?” The dwarf smirked.

Bilbo turned around with a glare. “You know you don’t have to be so smug every time you manage to catch me off guard.”

Nori, Bilbo’s oldest and dearest friend, just raised an eyebrow as he tried and failed to hide the mischievous superiority oozing from his every pore.

“Just like to remind you, you’re not the best just yet.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he continued on his way knowing the dwarf was following.

“We both know I was headed to your place eventually so is there a reason you’re bugging me now?”

“Can I not worry over the sake of my friend?” Nori gasped overdramatically.

Bilbo snorted but made no arguments or agreements.

“Well, if I were coming to find you, it might have something to do with the fact that your husband finished up his duties early today to surprise you.”

The coin he was holding nearly slipped from his suddenly numb fingers.

“Valar above!” Bilbo swore. “That dwarf. He’s positively incorrigible!”

“He’s in love.” Nori pointed out.

Bilbo scoffed. “Love. Well shit, looks like you’re going to have to take this to our hiding place for me.”

Bilbo shoved the bag of gold into the dwarf’s chest before power walking towards the secret tunnels. Nori kept stride with him, clearly not done delivering bad news.

“Are you anywhere close to the right amount?”

“I’ve nearly two-thirds at this point.”

“Bilbo, you only have a week left.”

“I’m well aware, Nori! Maybe it's enough to...buy me more time.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the whole point of you marrying some rich noble supposed to give you easy access to the treasury?”

“It was, but there was one teeny detail we didn’t take into account.”

“What’s that?”

Bilbo paused, his face falling into a grimace. “In-laws.”

***

One of the first things Bilbo and Nori did upon their rushed and unplanned move to Erebor from Ered Luin was scope out the best places for a quick getaway. They just so happened to make kind with a chatty miner named Bofur who, while deep in his cup, told them that the royal wing originally was meant to be on the other side of the mountain. When the architects realized the disadvantage of having the royal family so far from the guards’ posts and war meeting rooms, rather than just move the furniture back down only to go back up on the correct side, they cut unmapped tunnels around the outside of the mountain. It also had the added advantage of getting their monarchy out quicker in the case of a coup if the knowledge hadn’t been lost through time. It was perfect for the thieves’ needs. In almost no time at all, Nori and Bilbo had found the tunnels and utilized them fully.

Something the hobbit was thankful for now as he flew down the tunnel to get back to his room. He welcomed the blast of mountain wind to rapidly cool the sweat on his face before ducking back into the opposite entrance. There was a small alcove where Bilbo’s fancier clothes lay and he all but threw himself out of his worn threads for the finer silks and cotton. The last thing he did was pocket the brooch before sprinting back down the tunnel braiding and beading his hair on the run. Once he was back in the royals’ wing, he ducked his head out to make sure the coast was clear, and then silently made his way to his suite. After closing the door behind him, Bilbo relaxed against it, heaving a sigh of relief.

“And just where have you been, Husband of Mine?”

Bilbo prided himself on the fact that he did not squeak even if he did jump nearly two feet in the air. Thorin, Prince of Erebor, was lounging in the armchair by the fireplace looking rather pleased with himself. Bilbo attempted to calm his racing heart as he stepped forward, plastering what he hoped to be a loving grin on his face.

“Just a walk on the cliffs with Nori. Surely, you would not deny this hobbit the feel of fresh air and sunshine?”

Thorin stood at that point, meeting him about halfway. His thumb gently caressed Bilbo’s cheek.

“If I had it my way, I would deny you nothing, ukradê (my greatest heart).”

Bilbo hummed in practiced delight as he met his husband’s lips with his own. The hobbit was at least content with the knowledge that as far as dwarves went, Thorin was stunningly handsome. Not a sentiment necessarily shared with others of his race. Which worked out just fine for Bilbo as it left a prince of all things, uncommitted and available.

“By the way, look what I found this morning.” Bilbo stepped back with a teasing smile as he produced the brooch from his pocket.

“My mother’s brooch!” Thorin gaped as he took it reverently. “Where…?”

“It was under my bed. You must have dropped it when you paid me a surprise visit last night.”

Thorin smirked as he latched onto Bilbo’s hips. “I remember the night well.”

Oh, and he was a really, really good bed partner. No, Bilbo was well aware he could have it much worse. It was just the dwarf’s nauseating romanticism that nearly caused him to roll his eyes more than once. Thorin gave him a long lingering kiss before he bent forward to press his forehead against Bilbo’s own. Their hands found their way into each other’s naturally interlocking.

“I promise, it won’t always be like this.” Thorin murmured when he finally pulled away, his blue eyes shining brightly.

Like this. The dwarf was so dramatic. It constantly made Bilbo feel like some player performing for the court. Heaving a sigh as he looked down between their conjoined hands.

“We’ve been married for eight months, and two of those have been spent here in Erebor. If your family was going to accept me, they would have done so by now.”

Thorin released his hands so he could lift Bilbo’s chin to look at him.

“Don’t lose faith yet, amrâlimê (my love). I have a plan.”

It was a good thing Bilbo was a talented actor. He laughed, causing Thorin to smile.

“You have a plan? That sounds dangerous.”

“Tease all you want, but I have all the confidence in this plan.”

“Well, out with it. What have you come up with?”

Thorin shook his head teasingly. “You’ll have to wait. I want it to be a surprise.”

Bilbo linked his arms around the dwarf’s neck for leverage as he started showering him with kisses at his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and his throat.

“And I couldn’t persuade you to tell me any sooner?”

“You are cruel, thundanûd (tiny embrace).” Thorin moaned, his hands resting on Bilbo’s arms.

“It’s only cruel if you don’t accept the invitation.” Bilbo teased back as he pulled at the prince’s tunic to allow him access to his collarbone.

Thorin shuddered once with want before finding the strength to pull away. He grasped Bilbo’s hands again as he kissed him deeply as an apology.

“Later. There will be time later. But now...we are having dinner with my family.”

Bilbo’s building fire of lust was immediately doused, a small frown settled on his forehead that Thorin attempted to kiss away. Lovely, the in-laws.

It certainly wasn’t that Bilbo wanted them to like him. He could honestly care less. It was just their dislike of him that made it really difficult for him to do...well, much of anything. Thrain, still mourning the loss of his dead wife, remained suspicious and hardened against Bilbo for the sheer fact that he was a hobbit. Their marriage had yet to be announced to the Council or even the mountain in general. Keeping Bilbo out of the public eye was Thrain’s number one priority which was certainly no hardship. It was Frerin and Dis he had the biggest problems with. Thorin’s brother and sister, ever loyal to him, seemed to think Bilbo wasn’t good enough for the dwarf, and constantly had Balin, the royal advisor, keeping tabs on him. Bilbo was reluctant to admit the dwarf’s keen eyes and sharp wit, but it had taken quite a few of Bilbo’s best moves to lose his tails before entering the secret tunnels.

Therefore, coming together in the Royal Dining Room for “family dinners” was a...stilted affair. There were only two redeeming features to those evenings. One, it was always the best food Bilbo had ever eaten in his life. And two, Thorin’s nephews, Fili and Kili, were not the least bit bothered by him and had some story worth telling that took the edge of him for a little bit at least.

“And then the axe sailed through the air and straight into the boar’s head. So technically, technically we aren’t responsible for the mess in the trophy room.” Kili finished.

“No.” Vili, their father snorted. “Just responsible for startling the poor guard that set off the chain of events.”

“Well how were we supposed to know he was right there?” Fili defended.

Bilbo snorted in spite of himself. “Watch the shadows.”

He immediately tensed after he said it as he waited for the barrage of insults to be hurtled his way.

“Spoken like a true thief.” Dis sneered.

Yep, right on cue.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t corrupt my sons.” She continued.

“Namad…” Thorin warned softly.

Thrain’s hand met the tabletop in a harsh bang. “What have I said about speaking our language in front of the Halfling?!”

Bilbo sighed and turned his attention to his soup as the line of Durin flexed their tempers. Thorin rising to his defense, Dis and Thrain attempting to argue their points louder, Frerin leaving snide quips here and there, and Vili trying and failing to keep the peace. The joy of family dinners.

“Actually, while we’re on this subject, I have something to say.” Thorin demanded, his voice low and regal. “I will be gone the remainder of the week.”

Everyone, including Bilbo, froze and stared up at Thorin in relative confusion and outrage. The prince’s eyes were boring holes straight into his father whose scowl would be enough to frighten wargs off at this point.

“And just where will you be?” The king finally spat.

Thorin reached down for Bilbo’s hand making the hobbit supremely discomforted. Thorin’s eyes were soft and pleading though as they met his.

“We will be taking the Trial of Souls.”

“We’ll be doing what now?” Bilbo questioned.

“Thorin…” Dis murmured at a surprisingly subdued volume, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Finally! A sensible idea!” Frerin declared.

All eyes rested on the brunette as he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think? I mean, to put it bluntly, everyone at this table has been trying to convince Thorin out of this marriage in some way. When they don’t emerge from the tunnels together, that would be a pretty good indicator of the truth.”

“We haven’t. We like Bilbo.” Kili reminded softly.

Bilbo shot the troublemakers a quick smile of thanks. They were idiots, but they were sweet. Meanwhile, Thrain was rubbing his beard in thought before nodding once.

“Yes, this will do well. In fact, if you make it through all five chambers, I’ll hold a feast in honor and publically accept your union.”

Thorin nodded, still looking rather cross with his father. “As I’d hoped.”

Bilbo found he couldn’t take it anymore. “Now, wait! Wait just a minute! What is this...Trial of Souls?”

Thorin stared at his father for permission, and the king granted it almost the picture of satisfaction. Being a gambler, it made Bilbo largely nervous as Thorin turned back towards him.

“It’s a series of tests to prove two dwarves...or in our case, a dwarf and a hobbit, are Ones.”

Bilbo’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no words were able to come out.

“Problem, Halfling?” Dis questioned with mock innocence.

“Thorin, a moment if you please.” Bilbo was finally able to say as he pulled his stone-headed husband out into the hall.

“Are you serious?!” He finally rounded on him.

“What?” Thorin questioned.

“Thorin, I…” Bilbo fought for the right words without making this worse. “I don’t understand. What exactly do we have to prove? We’re married. Shouldn’t that be enough?!”

Thorin sighed. “It should. You are correct, ibinê (my gem). But don’t you see? It’s perfect! My family will be satisfied by our success at the Trials, and it’ll be irrefutable evidence to the rest of the mountain if any rose to challenge us. And politics aside, I want this for us.”

“Us?” Bilbo repeated too numb to be completely in control of his mouth.

“Yes!” Thorin nodded eagerly. “Couples that pass the Trials of Souls find they become closer than ever. Our...relationship hasn’t been for very long, and I respect that your past is painful to you, but I want to know you azyungel (love of loves). I want to know everything there is to know about my husband, and share myself in return. What do you say?”

Now being a hardened thief, the hobbit knew a thing or two about how to get out of a seemingly hopeless situation. However, as his mind swirled and swirled around the damnable logic of Thorin’s decision, he found himself becoming dizzy and nauseated. That was it then. Bilbo was doomed. He had just enough time to get out a soft ‘nope’ before he fell over in a dead faint.

#birthdayplotbunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #starterdrabbles #Bilbo would be much happier if his husband would quit trying to love him

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