#told a manager i was going to the bathroom and she straight faced said Nope and then laughed when i believed that😐

[charlottan]

seriously why is a whole cornerstone of allistic humor just Lying

[azrielsbxtch]

CHAPTER ONE OF AN UNNAMED MODERN GWYNRIEL FIC I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT…

**********************************************

Gwyn woke up to her new roommate Blair blasting some pop rock song and singing along to it. She groaned and pushed her hair away from her face rubbing her eyes. It had been like this for two weeks and she didn’t know how long she could take it.

Ever since her other roommate Daffodil had his heart broken by a spirited water Nymph,he’d started sleeping around. The girls never lasted more than two days but somehow Blair had lasted three whole weeks. Gwyn didn’t know if it was the ashroots they always smoked or if the sex was just that good,but Blair had managed to stick around.

And to make matters worse,Daffodil had officially made Blair their roommate and she had taken over the last room in the loft. This had all happened without Gwyn’s approval and when she confronted him,he said it was too late anyway and the landlord didn’t mind. Of course the landlord didn’t mind,he was Daffodil’s second cousin or something. And so for the last three weeks,Gwyn’s apartment had turned into her own personal hell.

Groaning,she got out of bed and headed into her bathroom. She took a quick shower and dressed in some jeans and a baggy Tshirt. It was too late to do anything with her hair so she left the red locks hanging down. She was looking for her keys when her phone rang and her best friend’s face appeared on it.

“Hey Nes” she answered while packing up the last of the things she needed for today into a tote bag.

“Okay I changed my mind again. I think I want the party at Rita’s”

Gwyn groaned and said “Nesta you’ve changed the location five times already. The party’s tonight I don’t think you can just change the location”

“Sure I can. I’ll just tell the decorators to go there instead”

Gwyn walked out of her apartment narrowly dodging Blair who was dancing round the living room clearly high. It was seven in the morning for fucks sake.

“I know you can but too many things could go wrong. I don’t know why you’re overthinking this. It’s a birthday party not a fricking mating ceremony”

“You’re pissed at something and it’s not me Gwyneth. What is it?”

Gwyn sighed and waved hello to one of her neighbors before leaving the building.

“Blair and Daffodil”

“Of course”. Nesta muttered.

“She woke me up with her awful music and last night she actually came into my room and unplugged my phone to charge hers! It ended up dying because it’s a piece of crap and now I’m late because my alarm didn’t go off”

“I keep telling you. Just move in with me.”

“I’d love to but I cannot be a third wheel. You and Cassian are deliriously in love,it’s disgustingly beautiful and I love you,but no. And unless I plan on moving to Illyria,Emerie’s not an option either. Have you told her about you changing the venue by the way?”

“No she’ll yell at me. She thinks I’m too indecisive. You’re way more patient about all of this”

“I regret that everyday”

“Are you at work yet?”

“Nope. Merill is going to skin me alive”

“I could call Feyre -“

“No Nes,it’s fine”

Nesta sighed. “Okay. I’ll call you later with updates”

“Are you 100% sure you’re moving the party to Rita’s.”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later”

“Love you. Bye”

Gwyn dropped her phone in her bag and walked faster.

***********

Eleven hours later,an exhausted but thankful Gwyn trudged up the stairs to her loft. She left early today because Merrill traveled to the Winter Court museum for a transaction on a rare artifact. She’d be gone for only a day but it counted as a vacation in Gwyn’s book. Her luck seemed to continue as she found an empty apartment. It was trashed and from the faint odor coming from the kitchen,she was sure they’d left a mess but still….it was empty.

She had to get ready for Nesta’s party so she headed straight to her room. She took another shower and even had time to style her hair into a sleek chignon. She wore a strappy silver gown that hugged her lean frame. She added a pair of heels and some jewelry before locking up her room and flagging a cab to Rita’s.

When she arrived,she was let in immediately and gasped when she saw the transformed club. Somehow Nesta had managed to turn the sexy nightclub into an elegant yet fun environment.

She looked around and spotted her friends standing around. Her friends who also happened to be the most powerful people in the Night Court. The High Lord and Lady,Rhys and Feyre stood with Nesta and Cassian. Cassian was his army general and he was mated to Nesta who was Feyre’s sister. The third sister was away traveling the continent with her mate.

Next to Nesta and Cassian stood Amren and Morrigan,all members of Rhysand’s inner circle. Only one of them was missing and being the workaholic he was,she was sure she wouldn’t see him anytime soon.

Nesta spotted Gwyn and rushed over to hug her.

“You look so beautiful!” Gwyn gushed.

“Cassian picked out my dress.”

Gwyn smiled. “Where’s Emerie?”

“She went to the bathroom after scolding me for changing the venue again. Come on let’s go get you a drink”

“I certainly need it after the day I’ve had” Gwyn muttered.

They walked over to the bar and Nesta signaled the bartender who swiftly prepared two drinks and handed them over. Gwyn and Nesta walked back to join the others. Emerie came over to hug Gwyn and they all launched into conversation. More people started to arrive and Nesta got distracted by all the well wishers. Some people took to the dance floor and soon enough it became a full blown party.

*************

Some hours later,Gwyn was swaying slowly to the music and sipping on a cocktail. All the others were occupied in conversations or were taking a spin on the dance floor. Gwyn had rejected about 14 dance requests already and was currently hiding behind a pillar.

“Nice hiding spot” a quiet voice said into her ear.

Gwyn started smiling even before she turned to see Azriel standing behind her in an all black tailored suit,shadows swirling around him.She could bet her entire jewelry collection that he was coming straight from work.

“I don’t know if you noticed Azriel but it’s a party. You could’ve at least dressed the part”

He chuckled before stepping forward and engulfing her in his arms.

“Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever”

“That’s because you hardly leave your tower”

Azriel was Rhysand’s spymaster and shadowsinger.He was also a literal genius with computers. Combine all that with him being one of the most powerful Illyrians ever and a brutal skill set that made even the most dangerous warriors quiver when they heard his name,it made him a very busy male. If he wasn’t hacking into something he shouldn’t,he was putting his famed knife Truth-Teller to good use against their enemies.

He was also her best friend.

“What was it tonight? Evil overlords threatening the fragile peace in Pythian?”

“I guess we could call Beron an evil overlord” he said with a shrug.

Gwyn laughed and one of his shadows darted out to curl around her hair. She took his hand and led them out of the hidden alcove.

“Come on. You haven’t seen the birthday girl yet”

They headed over to where the others were standing and Azriel hugged and kissed Nesta on the cheek wishing her happy birthday. The party went on into the night and everybody was having fun. Eventually though Gwyn had to leave. Merrill was coming back the next day and she had a ton of work to complete. She found Nesta and Emerie and hugged them.

“I’ll bring your present over tomorrow okay.” She said to Nesta. “I kinda forgot to bring it I left in a rush”

Nesta nodded and Gwyn waved goodbye to Feyre,Mor and Amren. The guys were on the other side of the bar in conversation with Eris. It looked serious so Gwyn left without saying goodbye to them. Nesta’s chauffeur pulled up just as Gwyn came out of the club and she smiled to herself knowing Nesta had called him for her. She got in and the faerie pulled off the curb and headed to her house.

***************

Despite all the fun she’d had,Gwyn was more than ready to jump into bed and get some sleep before morning. Only when she opened the door to her house,a full blown party was going down in her apartment.

Her house was filled with random fae ,wraiths,illyrians and all sorts of people she’d never met. She struggled to find Blair and Daffodil over all the noise but couldn’t see them. The worst part was that in the middle of all the pandemonium,some idiot making out with his girlfriend had knocked down her door and they were on her bed having sex.

Gwyn could barely see through the rage engulfing her as she screamed at them to get the fuck out. They broke apart startled and ran out,the male fae’s pants still hanging around his knees. Why the hell was she saddled with such inconsiderate idiotic people! She could feel the pressure of tears threatening to fall and was desperately trying to keep it together.

She went into the bathroom and called Emerie.

“Hey what’s up!” She shouted still at Nesta’s party.

Gwyn’s said in a shaky voice “You mind if I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course! What’s wrong? Wait hold on let me go to a quieter place!”

Gwyn heard some shuffling and then heard Emeries voice clearly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I came back to my apartment and there’s a fucking rager going on here and they broke into my room and I just feel so fucking violated -“

“Holy shit. I am so sorry Gwyn. I’m gonna come get you okay.”

Gwyn didn’t even notice that she’d started crying but she nodded,then realized Emerie couldn’t see her so she said “Okay. I’ll pack some things before you get here”

“I’ll be there in five okay”

“Okay”

Gwyn got out a small bag and started throwing stuff in. She didn’t know how long she’d stay at Emerie’s but she couldn’t stay here for another second. She’d find someone to winnow her back and forth to work. She was throwing in some underwear when her phone rang again. It was Emerie.

“Hey. Um so slight change of plans. Azriel’s coming to get you”

“Wait what? Why?”

“Well I went back in to get Nesta and when I told her she kind of got angry and told everyone that this had been going on for three weeks now. Azriel well….he left to come get you”

Gwyn let out a sigh. “Okay I’ll see you soon”

“We’ll watch reruns of Real Housewives of Illyria okay”

Gwyn smiled. “Okay”

**************

Gwyn had just finished packing her bag when the entire apartment fell silent. She left her bathroom to the living room and saw the door open,Azriel standing there with the landlord who was barely holding it together at the sight of the shadowsinger. They all knew who he was….what he did.

Azriel eyes slid to hers and he walked over to her.

“You done packing?”

She nodded. He frowned when he saw the tear tracks on her face.

“This is the last time you cry over these fuckers” he muttered before brushing past her to pick up her bag.

He came out and led her to the door. No one had moved. It was as if his presence had frozen them in their spots. She was sure even after he left,the party wouldn’t continue. Blair and Daffodil would probably stay awake all night…knowing they were officially on the Shadowsinger’s radar. It brought a small smile to her face. The landlord scrambled out of the way as they walked past. She heard him gulp nervously.

Azriel led her to where his car was parked. She used to wonder why he had so many cars when he had those magnificent wings but Cassian had told her it was an indulgence for him. He had a fascination with cars and loved to collect them,tear them apart and rebuild them. This one was a sleek black number. How would his wings even fit?

She got her answer when they reached the car and she saw Nuala,one of the wraiths under his employ in the drivers seat. He dropped her luggage in the back and said to the wraith,

“To the Penthouse”

Nuala nodded before driving off.

“Wait. Penthouse? I’m going to Emerie’s”

“No you’re not. You’re moving in with me” he said before gathering her in his arms and taking off.

[alwaysmarveling]

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were. 

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

-

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

-

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

-

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

-

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover. 

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years. 

-

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[scuttling]

Present

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 4,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Voyeurism, Masturbation in shower, Sexting, Oral Sex, Dom/sub, Protected Sex, Established Aaron/Sophie Summary: Sophie sends Aaron a sexy video while he’s away on a case, Spencer watches it, and smut ensues. Collection: Part 1 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr because I was thinking about it today. 🤤 Link to A03 or read below! “I sprained my ankle. I’m not injured, not really. I can even walk on it,” Sophie assures as she pours them each a cup of coffee in the break room. She sets the carafe down, takes a step, wobbles, and Aaron catches her around the waist with a raised eyebrow of judgement. “Okay, so I can’t walk that well, but I can certainly sit in a conference room bouncing ideas around and drinking coffee. That’s all Rossi does, anyway.” He chuckles softly, knows she’s still… warming up, to Rossi and his idiosyncrasies.

“You know the rules.”

“Yeah, because we’re so good at following the rules,” she teases with a smirk, running her hands down his stomach, stopping at his belt. He looks over at the bullpen out of the corner of his eye, shoots her a warning look that makes her sigh and pull away.

“Think of it as choosing our battles,” he suggests, hoping that might get her back on track. “If you want to continue making out in my office, you have to stay here this one time.” She smiles, crooked, nods her head.

“Okay, when you put it that way, I’ll take the make outs.”

“I thought you might. Plus, you get to spend all day with Garcia. I figured that would be like a dream come true.”

“It is, definitely. It’s more the long, cold, nights that I’m worried about.” He sighs, because she’s being so dramatic, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of making him smile again. He can’t be looking as smitten and infatuated with her as he is all of the time. “I’m going to be so lonely.”

“Oh, I think you’ll manage without sex for a few nights,” he teases, and she looks scandalized, as if that wasn’t exactly what she was getting at.

“It’s not about sex, it’s about intimacy, comfort, sharing my bed with a big heavy man who scares away the bad dreams.” She grins lecherously and he prepares to roll his eyes. “And who has a dick that won't quit.”

“Like I said,” he enunciates, taking his travel mug of coffee for the road, “you’ll be fine for a few nights. If you do decide to touch yourself, though, make sure you send me a present,” he reminds her, because they aren’t separated often, but when they are, a couple of racy pictures or videos almost always exchange hands. He bends for a quick kiss on the lips, brushes her cheek. “I love you. Behave.”

“I love you,” she murmurs, all tenderness and no heat, now. “Be safe.” Two days after taking the case, the team is on the jet for a night flight home. Spencer is tired, but he can’t sleep; JJ is stretched out on the couch, Morgan and Emily are slumped over in their seats up front with pillows and headphones, and Rossi has been snoring softly since they took off, so it’s just him and Hotch awake. They are in seats next to each other, Spencer by the window, because he knew he would be a little restless, and that Hotch wouldn’t sleep, so it seemed like the safest bet if he didn't want to disturb anyone’s rest.

He also enjoys the comforting presence of the older man, always, but especially in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the flight home.

He tries to listen to music, a podcast, but he eventually pauses it and just rests his eyes, his head, listens to Hotch as he flips pages or taps away at his phone. He’s probably texting Sophie, who’s home with a sprained ankle and who hasn’t stopped grumbling about it since. He smiles at the thought, likes when she’s comfortable enough to complain to him. Likes being someone she turns to.

He sighs. Feelings are complicated. Sometimes he hates being part of such a tight-knit team because it makes the things he feels all the more confusing, especially when the two objects of his (totally manageable) affection are in a relationship together; he feels like the odd man out, as always, can’t deny that it hurts sometimes.

He’s drifting in and out of the not quite asleep stage when he hears sound coming from Hotch’s phone, shuffling, ambiguous noises. He lifts his eyelids just slightly to see a video up on the screen, a wall that looks vaguely familiar, like a bathroom, maybe. There’s nothing particularly intriguing about that, but then he sees a pair of smooth, bare legs standing inside a bathtub and his interest is… piqued.

There’s another sound, unmistakably a shower being turned on, and then the woman—it is Sophie, no doubt; even if he can’t see her face, the tattoo on her forearm is easily identifiable—squats down, and she is so gloriously naked that he just… freezes. His body and his mind are suspended in a conflicting state of this is wrong, I shouldn’t be seeing this, and this is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and why is Hotch watching this right now, with me right next to him, and hnnng.

She pulls the shower head into view, lets it pour over her hair from what he can see of it, then down her breasts, her stomach, arms and legs; after that, she adjusts it to a stream that is harder and more controlled than one would typically use in the shower. He wonders why, thinks it could be uncomfortable, until she moves it to hover over her pussy, moaning softly, and then he really, really gets it.

His heart is racing as she runs her hand over her body, thumbing at her nipples, sighing at her own touch. She rocks back and forth a little so the stream of water hits her clit, then lower, between her lips, against her opening, and Spencer swallows hard.

“Mmm,” she sighs, and the sound goes straight through him; he feels himself getting hard as she murmurs, pressing her hand against the rim of the tub for leverage. “Mmm, yeah.” He can see that Hotch is breathing heavily next to him, eyes fixed on the screen. It’s too dark in the cabin to see his lap, but he knows he must be aching in his pants, too, wonders what it would be like if he reached out and touched him there.

Sophie is incredibly gorgeous as she works to reach her climax, bouncing lightly on her heels as the pressure builds, her moans longer and louder, but it’s when she stops moving and presses the shower head closer, directly over her clit, that he knows she’s almost ready to come.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” she whines, pinching a nipple, arching her back, and her voice is high and breathy and addictive. He would give anything to be in the same room as those sounds, to pull her wet body close and help her get off. “Fuck, mmm,” she purrs, bringing the stream even closer, and she comes, short, loud moans that sound like they’re being ripped from her throat as her thighs shake, her chest heaves.

She drags a slow hand down her body, like she’s soothing herself, and then shudders, pulls the shower head away like maybe the pressure is too much where she’s sensitive. With a sigh, she reaches for the phone, tilts it so her face is in view, cheeks flushed and wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She turns up her lips in a coy smile. “See you soon.” The video ends.

It takes Hotch a moment to lock his phone, and he looks a little dazed when Spencer risks a glance up at his face—with good reason. If he was on the receiving end of videos like that, he would never be able to focus on anything.

The rest of the trip is quiet, certainly uneventful in comparison. Spencer makes a show of opening his eyes fully, stretching, thinks it would be too awkward now to admit he saw and heard every incredible second; Hotch looks over at him with an expression he can’t read, and then flips open a new case file.

When they land, he and Hotch are the last two to grab their bags, and Hotch brushes up against him in a way that feels purposeful, but is probably wishful thinking. “Do you have anything going on for the rest of the night?” he asks, and Spencer shakes his head.

“Nope, nothing.” Maybe masturbating—definitely masturbating—but he doesn’t need to know that. Hotch nods, thoughtful.

“You should come home with me.” Spencer looks at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“We both know that you saw the video,” he says in a low, no nonsense tone that makes him gulp. “I told Sophie, and she seemed… interested in the prospect. So you should come home with me. If you want to.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Hotch raises a hand, halting his train of thought.

“I may have had a suspicion that you were awake when I chose to play the video, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” Spencer looks at his face, trying to determine if he’s saying what he thinks he’s saying. He did that on purpose? He knew that Spencer was watching? “No pressure, if you don’t want to come over. I would never want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I do want to… do… whatever it is we’re doing,” he rambles awkwardly, and Hotch chuckles.

“What we're doing is having sex. And I won’t touch you, or anything, if you don’t want that. It can be me and Sophie and you and Sophie.” Spencer swallows hard again, so turned on and breathless that it makes him feel bold.

“What if I do want you to touch me?” he asks, and Hotch leans in slowly, hot breath at his ear.

“Then I’m going to touch you.” When he pulls away, his fingers brush over Spencer’s jaw. “Do you want to come home with me?”

His answer is an emphatic yes. Aaron is due home any minute, and Sophie is vibrating with nervous energy, puttering around the apartment in her robe, couldn’t sit still if she tried. She waits for him on nights he has to work late and can’t bring it home, sure, but it’s almost never like this, where they are apart for days on end. It’s seriously affecting not only her sex drive, but also her mental state, which she hadn’t expected; she feels clingy, needy already, wants to smell him and touch him and taste him and be caged in by him, and it’s frankly getting a little out of hand.

It doesn’t help, she guesses, that she sent that video, but she was horny and wanted his attention… and boy, did she get it, had several texts come through a couple of minutes after she sent it, all very sweet and dirty and good.

Then she saw one about Reid, wanted to be mortified, but she just… wasn’t.

A: So, Reid saw me watching your present.

S: Oh, really? Did he like it?

A: Yeah, he liked it.

A: I bet he’d come pretty quick if he got to see the real thing.

A: Touch you… taste you.

God, how can this calm, controlled man make her such a whimpering mess with just a couple of texts? It’s unfair, is what it is.

S: Maybe we should invite him over sometime.

S: I’ve seen him looking at you, too.

S: Imagine how pretty he would look between us.

That was about an hour ago, and the only thing she received in reply was a brief message letting her know they’d landed and that he was on the way home. She hopes she didn’t upset him, knows that he’s mentioned being interested in men but that he’s never slept with one, hopes she didn’t hit a sore spot. She promises herself they will talk about it when he gets home.

But when he gets home, he kisses her so deeply she feels faint. Her body is lit up in an instant, suddenly desperate for more of him.

“I brought you a present,” he says, so low and sexy, and she grins, breathless, wraps her arms around his neck.

“Ooh, you know I love presents. What is it?”

“It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Spencer says, then, from the open doorway, and she glances between them, bites at her bottom lip. He steps inside and closes the door.

Fuck.

“Hey, Spencer,” she greets, but she can hear the tremble in her voice when she does. He looks to Aaron, and Aaron reaches back, wraps a hand around his wrist, guides him closer.

“I told him what you said, about how pretty he would look between us. He happened to agree, so I figured, why wait?” He looks her over intently, like he’s making sure she’s okay with this.

She is so okay with this.

She wants to speak but she’s so out of breath, her heart beating so fast, that she just pulls him down for a kiss, messy and graceless, and then she reaches for Spencer’s shirt and pulls him close as well, doing the same. She takes turns kissing them, ten kisses each, probably, until Aaron pushes her back gently with a soft laugh.

“Easy, baby. He’s going to stay the night; we have time to go slow.” Her chest is heaving, and he walks around so he’s standing behind her, unties the sash of her robe, pulls it off to reveal the lacy black bra and panties she thought would be a sexy surprise.

He kind of outdid her in the surprise department, but she’ll forgive him this once.

He runs his hands over her panties, her stomach, her boobs, and she bends her neck back, arching up for his lips, moaning against them. Spencer approaches, a bit hesitant, puts his hands on her hips and kisses her exposed throat, her chest. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven, two pairs of hands on her, two mouths, her body pressed between them tightly. She thinks offhand that she’s glad her ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, because she could stand between them all night long, if they keep this up, would be content to never move again.

Then one of Spencer’s beautiful, incredible hands slips down the front of her panties, and they stop kissing her to kiss each other, and she whimpers, and her knees give out anyway.

“So dramatic,” Aaron whispers teasingly in her ear as he holds her up, big hands on her body, and she shakes her head, wets her lips.

“Not being dramatic. This is so fucking sexy.” Spencer—apparently not worried about the fact that she almost collapsed on them because Aaron wasn’t—slides two fingers over the slippery wet lips of her pussy, and she groans. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take all the attention,” she murmurs, moving her hips against his hand. “Kiss some more, please.” Spencer huffs a laugh and leans in, catches Aaron’s lips with his. From her point of view she can see the slide of their tongues, lips pressing together, and she groans again.

“If it’s okay with you,” Spencer says to her when they separate, “I would really like to eat your pussy now.” He kisses her softly on the cheek, and she exhales, shaky.

“Yeah, please—please do that.”

“I’ll hold you,” Aaron whispers, lips at her ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.” She hums, leans back against him, and Spencer drops to his knees, guides her panties down. She’s so wet there’s slick on the insides of her thighs, and when he lifts one leg to hook her knee around his shoulder, he licks it away. She shudders.

She feels like she should have known how hot and skillful his mouth would be, because he talks so fast sometimes that his brain—his incredibly high-functioning brain—can’t even keep up, and she usually finds his mouth cute, but right now she finds it sexy, will probably never be able to look at it without thinking of the way he feels with his tongue in her pussy.

He is very enthusiastic, licking her quick and deep, with one hand on her waist and the other rubbing her clit like he’s got a PhD in bringing girls to orgasm, and she knows she’s moaning like a slut, gets even louder when Aaron bites at her earlobe, kisses her neck, squeezes her breasts. “Fuck, oh fuck, yeah,” she pants, reaches a hand down to wrap it in Spencer’s hair, making him groan; she rocks against his delicious mouth, which he encourages, moving his hand to her ass and guiding her closer.

“Come for him, baby,” Aaron urges, hand inside the cup of her bra to pinch her nipple. “Isn’t he pretty, down on his knees for you?” She drops her head back against him, brings a hand to his hair, too.

“So pretty.” He stoops down to kiss her as best as he can, and Spencer’s looking up at them, gorgeous, and she comes tugging on both of them, panting into Aaron’s mouth.

When Spencer stands up and kisses her, mouth soft and wet after working her through her orgasm, and then Aaron leans in to taste both of them on her lips? It’s a wonder she doesn’t get weak in the knees again. Sophie is soft and pliant after she comes, clinging onto them, and Aaron lifts her into his arms and carries her to the bedroom, Spencer following closely behind. He sets her on the bed, unhooks her bra and pulls it off; Spencer watches closely as he does, kneels down to kiss her, brush his hands over her bare breasts, and she sighs at the treatment.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asks them, getting down on his knees as well, and he kisses them, thrills at the similarities in their soft lips, soft skin.

“I wanna suck you both,” she says, and he touches her face gently.

“Are you sure you’re up for that? You look a little fuzzy.” He didn’t think that she would get submissive so quickly, since he hadn’t actually dominated her, but can see how feeling at the mercy of two men might make her go to that place; he just wants to make sure he does what’s best for her while she’s there.

“Might not be able to get you off, but I want them in my mouth. Can I?” She looks up at him, then at Spencer, who swallows visibly. Aaron gave him a little insight on the way there about how they normally interact with each other, how she likes to ask for permission and he likes to give it—or deny it, depending.

(Aaron Hotchner’s crash course on having a submissive girlfriend—he might have to find a way to monetize that, somehow.)

“You can, for a couple minutes. Then what do you want?” He looks to Spencer to see if he has anything in mind.

“I don’t—I’ve never done this,” he says quietly, and he and Sophie both touch him, and she nuzzles against his shoulder.

“Neither have we, it’s okay. You want to, though?” He looks at them with soft, open eyes, and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, I want to.” Aaron takes his face in his hands, kisses him deeply.

“Okay, good. Sophie,” he says softly, touches her face too, “do you think you would be alright being with both of us at the same time?” She licks her lips and frowns a little like she’s confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could lay you down, and one of us could be inside your pussy, and one of us could be inside your mouth. I’ll take your mouth,” he decides quickly, because she doesn’t like it too fast or rough and he knows her limits, doesn’t want to hurt or overwhelm her. “You’ll be full of us, baby. Do you think you want that?” She closes her eyes, nods, and Spencer touches her throat with long, gentle fingers.

“You’d give us that?” he asks like he’s in awe, and Aaron gets it, knows how much it means that she trusts them with something like this. “You’re incredible, Sophie,” he murmurs against her lips, and she sighs, pulls him closer.

Watching them make out is a very enjoyable thing, made all the more so when he decides to come up behind Spencer to unbutton his pants, untuck his shirt. The younger man moans at the feel of his hands helping him undress, and he presses back against Aaron’s chest, panting and eager. He guides him to stand, gets him naked, and wraps a hand around his long, hard cock, stroking it a couple times.

“You want her mouth on you while I get undressed?” he asks, and Spencer bucks up into his hand, nods quickly. Sophie reaches for him, pulling him closer, and she licks at the head, moans. “Gently,” he murmurs in Spencer’s ear, “let her be in control.” He nods seriously, presses a hand to Sophie’s cheek when she takes him in.

Between the two of them, their moans are so filthy, wanton, that he craves the heat of their mouths, so he captures Spencer’s in a kiss when he can, pulling off his clothes slowly so they can enjoy the time together. “Sophie,” Spencer murmurs, and she looks up at him, and Aaron’s arms around him, and whines. She pulls off of him, licks her lips looking hungry.

“I’m ready for you guys.” The simple sentence makes his dick throb, and he lays her back on the bed, kisses her soft and sweet and slow. Spencer curls around them, kisses them and rubs his hands over their bare skin.

“Spencer, can you get in that drawer and take out a condom?” he has presence of mind to ask, glad that the ones they have should fit him, and he stretches up, all long, lithe muscles, grabs one and tears the wrapper open, rolling it on. Neither Aaron nor Sophie can take their eyes off of him, and when he’s finished, Aaron moves out of his way so he can settle between her legs. She hitches up her knees, and he knows first hand how inviting that can be, understands completely when he shivers with pleasure.

Aaron kisses Sophie a few more times, whispers sweet, loving words into her ear, and then he crawls up by her head, the tip of his dick at the same level as her mouth.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, running his hands over her breasts, and she nods, puts her hands on Spencer’s hips and pulls him closer until he is fully sheathed inside her; he keeps still, panting, and Aaron leads forward to brush his hair back. “You’re so gorgeous, Spencer,” he coos, and then he presses into Sophie's mouth, sighs.

She takes him in hand, guiding him in and out at a pace she’s comfortable with, so he just lets her take the lead and runs his hands over her body, Spencer’s fingers where they press against her thighs. He is pumping into her deeply now, an easy rhythm Sophie matches with her hand, and the room is filled with a symphony of soft, wet sounds and moans and hums that Aaron doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

He is wholly unsurprised when he is the first to come, because watching Spencer’s hips move against her, his hands careful where he holds her down, and feeling her moan around his cock because she loves feeling full, it’s all too much for him. He spills with a groan, and Spencer watches his face like it’s art, which makes him feel warm in his chest. Something to explore at a later time.

Sophie lets go of him, panting, and he slides down to his belly so he can kiss her mouth, caress her. He looks up at Spencer, who appears to be trying so hard not to come, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and he rubs Sophie’s clit to help get her close, so he’ll stop trying so hard and just let himself feel good.

“Oh, god,” Sophie whines, brings her hands up to squeeze hard at her breasts. “This is good, so good, mmm.” She starts bucking hard against him, her neck stretched long, and he knows the instant she comes, her mouth opening in a wordless moan before she all but howls her pleasure. Spencer groans, shifts his legs a little so he’s hovering over the both of them, and he thrusts for a few more seconds before finding his own orgasm. “Hmm, yes,” Sophie sighs, and he kisses her slowly, passionately; Aaron rubs both of their bodies as they shiver with aftershocks, and they all sink into the mattress, deeply spent.

They cuddle together for a few minutes, until Sophie complains she has to pee, and she and Spencer go into the bathroom together to take care of business. Aaron runs a hand through his hair and exhales long, because this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen, while also being one of the most unforgettable nights of his life; he knows they’ll look to him for guidance about what to do next, and he’s really not sure what to say when they do.

When they amble back into the room, they’re both smiling softly, and Aaron smiles because he can’t help it. They climb back onto the bed, Spencer in the middle, though Sophie reaches across him to rub at the hair on Aaron’s chest.

“So that’s a thing that happened,” Sophie says eventually, propped up on her elbow, looking over at their two blissed out faces with nothing short of affection. “Is it a thing that’s going to happen again, or a thing we swear up and down didn’t happen?—No pressure, only asking so I know how to compartmentalize my many, many thoughts.”

Aaron looks to Spencer and can’t help but feel like there’s something more worth exploring, there. He thinks Spencer feels the same when he pulls him in for a tender kiss.

“I think it should happen again,” Spencer murmurs, and Sophie leans down to kiss him too.

“Yeah, it should happen again.” Aaron sits up, smiles at his girl, guides her mouth to his.

“Okay, then.” They kiss again, easy, sweet, and he breathes a laugh. “We owe you for this, you know: you and your little shower performance.”

“Oscar worthy,” Spencer says with a grin, and Sophie shoves him playfully.

“Hey, a girl has needs.”

“And we’ll help you meet them,” Aaron promises, running a hand suggestively along her body, and she covers it with hers.

“No way. I’m tapped out, buddy. Unless I get sleep or pizza, no more sex from me tonight.” Aaron feigns hurt, pulls away, flops onto his back with an exaggerated sigh, and she crawls past Spencer to straddle his waist. “So dramatic,” she teases, leans down for a kiss, then climbs off the bed altogether. “I’m good with pizza—I don’t want to go to sleep just yet, not when I’ve got two pretty boys in my bed.”

“I second pizza,” Spencer murmurs, his face pressed against Aaron’s bicep. Sophie pauses in the doorway, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Do you think they’ll do a third veggie, and a third pepperoni, and a third Hawaiian? Or am I gonna have to order two pizzas?” She comes back over to the bed, kisses them both soft, affectionate, and smiles. “Always complicating things, Spencer Reid.”

[lostinthewiind]

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳

Tsukishima Kei - Haikyuu

Synopsis: before you met Tsukki, Yamaguchi was the go-to person for girls who wanted to confess their love for the tall, blonde middle blocker. Now that the two of you are friends, however, you collect love confessions for him on the daily. And why shouldn’t you? You and Tsukki are just friends; you say so yourself all the time.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

You shook your head as you took the letter and box of chocolates from the small, trembling girl before you. “No, not at all.” You forced a sweet smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

The girl grinned wide, her face lighting up. “O-okay, thank you! I don’t think I could ever tell him in person about how I feel.”

“He’s really not as scary as everyone likes to think he is,” you said as you tucked the gifts of affection into your bag, pretending to pay careful attention but in reality, not exactly caring whether the card got crumpled or if the candies melted. 

The girl’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red and she chuckled. “Really? Maybe I’ll try talking to him at lunch then!”

“You should.” You feigned interest, not quite sure why you were encouraging this girl to personally confess her undying love for the boy that you yourself held deep feelings for. Maybe it was because you felt that if you played the part as the supportive best friend, you would eventually just fall into that roll and forget all about how his smirk gave you butterflies or how your heart skipped a beat whenever he offered to share his music with you.

“Okay, I will!” A wave of confidence flooded over the girl’s features. “Well, class is about to start, so I better get going. Thanks again!”

“No problem.” Your assurance fell on deaf ears as the girl turned and headed to class with her friends, the lot of them giggling and whispering as they went. 

As soon as the gaggle of girls had turned the corner and disappeared from sight, you exhaled and turned on your heel to head toward your own classroom. Managing to make it just before the first bell rang, your mood lifted as soon as you spotted your friend sitting in his assigned seat beside yours, eyes closed and headphones positioned over his ears, almost as if they were a permanent fixture of his head.

Fishing the offerings out of your bag, you dropped them down onto his desk rather harshly to get his attention as you slid into your own seat. Hearing the items drop onto his desk and feeling the vibrations through his arms, which had been folded across the tabletop, Tsukki eyed the card and chocolates and sighed.

“Again?” He pulled his headphones away from his ears and hung them around his neck, the music still blaring enough that you could faintly hear the bass. 

“Again.” You confirmed with a slow nod. 

Yamaguchi, who sat on the other side of Tsukki, stared at the gifts with wide eyes. “Wow, Tsukki, you really are popular!”

“I really wish I wasn’t.” He picked up the small box of sweets and tossed them onto Yamaguchi’s desk. “Do you want them?”

Yamaguchi, who was used to laying claim to the rejected love offerings, nodded happily and accepted them. Sometimes he gave them to you as well, and as much as you appreciated the thought, eating the physical representation of unrequited love wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, so you usually ended up just throwing them out when you got home.

“I wish you would just stop being so mean to everyone who isn’t Tadashi and I, that way people would actually confess their love for you to you and the two of us would be left out of it,” you grumbled. “It’s getting annoying.”

“How do you think I feel?” Tsukki lazily ripped open the card and scanned its contents quickly with his eyes, scoffing at the girly handwriting and hand-drawn hearts. “Pathetic.”

Without a second thought, he handed the card over to you so that you could read it as well. You chuckled to yourself as you took in the words of affection that resembled a Victorian-era love poem. You felt a little guilty about snooping on the private emotions of a girl who, as far as you could tell, seemed perfectly nice; however, you couldn’t deny the joy you experienced when Tsukki shared yet another sappy love note with you, inviting you to participate in the flat-out rejection and tug on your heartstrings just a little bit more. 

As long as he didn’t love anyone else, there was still hope for you. 

“‘The way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight makes my heart sing.’“ You read a particularly descriptive part aloud before handing the card over to Yamaguchi. “If only these poor girls knew that their most vulnerable feelings get scrutinized by a panel of three cynics like us.”

Yamaguchi chuckled heartily as he took his turn reading the card. Before another word could be said on the matter, however, the second bell rang and the teacher strolled into the room, bringing a halt to any and all side conversations.

By the time lunch had rolled around, you had almost completely forgotten about that morning’s events. Your stomach grumbling and your only thought being getting something to eat, you stood up to grab something from the vending machine but stopped in your tracks when you saw the girl from earlier standing by the door, her face even redder than it had been that morning and her eyes drifting from you to Tsukki, who had yet to notice her.

Suddenly, you remembered that you had encouraged the poor girl to talk to Tsukki herself, which even you knew was a horrendous idea. Sure, you had told girls that in the past, but never once had one actually followed through. Usually, you received a love confession, you gave it to Tsukki, you laughed about it together, and the girl would take her broken heart and retreat with her tail between her legs when Tsukki never so much as acknowledged her existence.

This was uncharted territory and you had no idea what to do. 

Turning to Tsukki, you pulled his headphones off—which he absolutely hated, but that was besides the point—and looked him dead in the eyes to set him straight before he could snap at you. “You see that girl by the door?” you asked him, and after glancing past you, he nodded. “She’s the one who gave me the card and chocolates to give to you this morning. She’s going to come in here and talk to you and I need you to not smash her heart into a million pieces. Okay?”

Tsukki opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the girl had worked up enough courage to make her way into the classroom and was now standing beside the two of you. 

Smiling sheepishly, you backed away to give the two as much privacy as possible and pretended to be busy by digging through your bag for something.

“Tsukishima-san, did you get my card and chocolates?” the girl asked, her fingers intertwined together and her feet shifting weight nervously as she spoke. 

Tsukki simply nodded. With that, Yamaguchi returned from using the bathroom and you stood next to him near the door, the two of you watching from afar as the unknown girl confessed to Tsukki in the partially-full classroom. 

“What do you think he will say?” you inquired out loud.

Yamaguchi shrugged, never taking his eyes off of the interaction before him. “No. He’s never interested in any of the girls that confess to him. I don’t imagine this one will be any different, even if she is doing it in person.”

“Yeah . . . I just hope he doesn’t make her-” You stopped talking mid-sentence when the tears started welling in the girl’s eyes and she turned to rush out of the classroom. “. . . cry,” you finished your thought. 

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your desk, having completely forgot about getting something to eat from the vending machine, and looked to Tsukki, who was completely unfazed. 

“That looked like it went well,” you quipped. “Remind me to never confess my undying love for you.”

“All I did was tell her that I wasn’t interested,” he explained. “I don’t know how I could have possibly been any nicer.”

“Well, no offence, but considering you are you, I’m sure there was a way.”

                                ━━━━━━━━━━━

For the following 24 hours, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get the look on that poor girl’s face after being rejected by Tsukki out of your head. Of course, you had no idea what he had actually said to her, but whatever it had been had been enough to make her cry . . . would he say something as equally insensitive if you ever decided to tell him how you felt?

By some stroke of luck, Tsukki wasn’t at school the next day, giving you time to clear your head without having to put up a facade for hours on end. However, you hadn’t been completely alone the entire day, and Yamaguchi was more observant than you had originally thought he was.

“Something’s bothering you,” Yamaguchi said out of nowhere as the two of you walked home after school that day. “Do you want to tell me or do you want me to guess?”

You chuckled softly. “You have three guesses and if you don’t get it right, you have to buy me a snack from the corner store when we pass it.”

“Deal.” Yamaguchi nodded, an aura of self-confidence practically radiating off of him. “Okay, let’s see . . . you got a bad test grade?”

You shook your head, convinced there was no way he could possibly guess correctly. “Nope.”

“You don’t like what your parents are cooking for dinner tonight?”

You snorted. “Nope, that’s not it.”

“Ah, okay. One guess left.” He was silent for a moment as he thought. “Could it be that you’re upset with how Tsukki turned down that girl at school yesterday because you have feelings for him but now you’re afraid that he will reject you in the same way?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping. Yamaguchi just grinned. The sneaky bastard had been playing you all along.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He played it off as a lucky guess. “Does this mean you’re buying the snacks then?”

“I . . . I guess so?” You were unsure how to respond. “But, wait, how did you know?”

“Tsukki may be completely oblivious to the general concept of feelings, but I’m not,” Yamaguchi said as he started toward the store that was in sight in the distance. “Now come on, I’m hungry!”

Completely shaken, you moved forward without really thinking about it and followed Yamaguchi. After you paid for two candy bars, the two of you continued on your way, Yamaguchi munching happily as if nothing had even happened and you staring at the still-wrapped treat in your hands, at a loss of words.

“If you knew I liked him this whole time, how come you’ve never said anything?” You finally found your voice.

“Because I figured you would share when you were ready,” he answered. “But now I think you’re never going to tell him because you’re too scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!” You threw your arms into the air dramatically. “You saw the poor girl running away with tears in her eyes. You’ve seen how he laughs at sappy romance stuff. How could I possibly feel anything but scared?!”

Yamaguchi thought for a moment. “Well, sure, it’d be scary if you were anyone else . . . but you’re not. You’re you. Judging by this whole situation, you don’t know this, but he likes you too.”

For the second time in less than an hour, you had been completely floored. “He what now?”

“Did you think he really hung out with you all the time and blatantly turned down other girls’ confessions in front of you because he just thinks you’re a good friend?”

You nodded, flabbergasted. “Y-yes?”

“You two are so unbelievably oblivious it’s actually hard to watch you guys running in circles around each other. Just tell him how you feel. I guarantee he won’t turn you down.” Yamaguchi suddenly stopped in his tracks and gestured to the house behind him; Tsukki’s house. 

Without even realizing it, Yamaguchi had lead you right into your waking nightmare. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You conniving little-”

 “You’ll thank me later. You both will.” He shoved you up the walkway to the front door before continuing down the road to his own house. “Good luck!”

“Yeah . . . thanks,” you huffed, eyeing the closed door in front of you. You had stood on this porch a hundred times before, knocked on the door a hundred times before, but today was different. 

Maybe Yamaguchi was right. Maybe Tsukki did like you back, and the only way to know for sure was to simply ask.

Before you could psych yourself out or change your mind, you pounded on the front door three solid times and glued your eyes to the doorknob, waiting for it to turn. 

Less than a minute later, you could heard footsteps inside and felt heat rush to your face. Were you actually going to do this? 

When the door swung open and Tsukki stood before you, dressed in pajama pants and a sweater, definitely looking a little on the ill side, you felt your heart jump into your throat. 

“Hey,” you greeted. “How are you feeling?”

The boy eyed you curiously. “Better now, thanks. Why are you here?”

“I, um . . . I have a confession for you,” you said before you could stop yourself. The words just sort of tumbled out of your mouth and now there was nothing you could do to avoid the situation. 

An amused look spread across Tsukki’s face. “You didn’t need to come all the way to my house for that. Just throw the card out and eat whatever candy came with it. You know the drill. It’s just another girl who-”

“There’s no card or any candies,” you told him and he cocked a brow. “And it’s not from just another girl . . . this one is from me.”

His face paled and his hand dropped from the doorknob he had still been holding onto, an indication that he had been ready to say goodbye to you pretty quickly. Now, however, he seemed to sense the seriousness of the conversation and had decided it was worth sticking around a little longer for.

“I won’t stand here and tell you that your eyes sparkle in the sun or that my heart does backflips when I see you, because you’ve heard that shit a million times,” you said. “But I will say that I like when you share your music with me or when you let me in on your inside jokes. You make me feel really special and I like that. I like you, Kei, and I just thought that I should tell you.”

“Oh.” He looked eerily similar to a deer in headlights and you were just waiting for him to slam the door in your face. But he didn’t. His hand did reach for the doorknob once again, but instead of closing the door, he opened it wider. “Do you want to come watch a new documentary with me?”

That hadn’t exactly been the response you had been expecting, but considering you weren’t currently a sobbing mess, you knew it could have gone a lot worse.

“I would like that.” You smiled and stepped into the house. “I might not have a whole box of chocolates, but I do have this.” You pulled the candy bar out of your pocket. “We can share it.”

“I would like that.” Tsukki closed the door behind you.

From that day on, even though you and Tsukki never officially declared your love for one another or referred to each other as ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’, you knew you had moved on from simply being friends.

And sure, sometimes you still got confessions for him from random girls, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much anymore. How could it when you knew, without a sliver of a doubt, that Tsukki only had eyes for you? 

[tare-anime]

2. Was it worth it…..? (AO3)

Prompt: “You said you would stay safe! Getting shot isn’t staying safe!”

````````````````````````````````````````````````

Pop!! Pop!!

Loid tried his best to avoid the lethal shots aimed at his head. 

“Loid!! Come over here!!” Yor screamed at him, only for him to ignore her plea.

He would not give up. Not when he was this close. 

Just a little bit more….

The man held onto his position with a steady resolve.

Suddenly one managed to land on his face. Even though he had moved to cover his face, it still managed to burn his skin.

He hissed. 

But he would win this battle no matter what. 

“Loid!!” once again Yor screamed in horror while hugging their daughter.

“Just stay right there. It will be done in a moment!” He told his family.

At long last, the color of the crispy pork skin turned a beautiful golden brown. Just as he liked it.

The man then turned off the stove and served it on to a plate.

He proudly showed it to the frightened family in the dining room.

“Tadaaaahh!”

Yor growled as she stood up, took the plate from him, and put it at their dining table. 

She then pulled him by the arms towards the sofa.

“Come and sit here!” Yor pushed her husband to sit, “And stay put!”

She then rushed to their bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

When she returned to his side, opening the first aid kit box in a hassle, Loid tried to pacify her saying, “It’s nothing, Yor.”

“Which part of this is ‘nothing’??” She berated him, shoving a cold wet towel at his face. “Here, press it on the wounds.”

Loid sighed and did as he was told. “Seriously, none of these are serious injuries.”

“You said you would stay safe! Getting burned with hot oil isn’t staying safe, Loid! Especially this...” She groaned, pointing at a burn, “So close to getting into your eyes! That’s why I told you we should just buy the thing!”

“It’s different! Making it yourself gives more satisfaction!" 

Suddenly a noisy crunching sound could be heard from their dinner table. That made both parents stop their argument and turn their heads towards the source of the noise. 

"OmG!!!! This is sooo delicious!!!" Anya exclaimed with glee as she gulped down her portion. 

"Waroooo…." Bond whimpered pitifully, begging for some crumbs. 

"Nope, Bond. These are mine," for once Anya sternly dismissed the idea of sharing her pork with her faithful friend. 

This made Loid smile and pointedly look at his wife. "You see what I mean?" 

Yor sighed in defeat, "It is truly wonderful. But it's still not worth it if you get hurt during the process." 

"To be honest, that was my fault. I should've known that vinegar would make the oil pop like crazy. Next time I promise to be prepared with a pan lid nearby."

Yor chuckled at that, "Please do. Now stand still. I'm going to clean the wounds. This will sting, but you have to stand still, otherwise, the potion and ointment may get into your eyes. And we don't want that." 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

Truth was, these so-called burn wounds were nothing for Loid. He’d had it worse and still lived through it. But of course, this time he had to play good husband and obey his wife's command. 

Loid then faithfully looked at the floor in respect of Yor, because by standing that close, should he look straight then he might look directly at her…..

Stop it, idiot!!! What are you thinking!

As much as he already anticipated the stinging sensation, he couldn't help but wince when the cold liquid touched his wound.

"So-... sorry…." Yor whispered and blew at the site, in hopes of easing the pain, before continuing. 

"No problem," the man said as he tried to glance at his wife, yet he hissed at another sting. 

"I try to be careful." 

"I know." 

Attempting to distract himself from the pain, Loid forced his mind to focus on other things. 

Like mission reports waiting to be written.

Like the sound of Anya happily eating the pork dish.

Like the smell of something soft and warm emanating from his wife.

Huh? 

Standing this close, he just noticed that Yor smelled of something faintly floral and woody. 

Somehow it felt like a warm cozy blanket, wrapping around his tired mind and body. 

Perhaps that’s why she likes this sweater so much? Maybe it also feels soft and warm?

In a trance, he lifted up his hand to try and feel the cozy red fabric and maybe snuggle his face into its warmth….

“.... id? Loid?? Loid!!”

A soft hand forced his head to turn up and look directly at concerned ruby orbs. 

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?” snapping out of his haze he stammered, “Yeah. Good.”

“You sure?”

Just then he noticed that Yor had finished treating his wound. 

“Yeah, I’m -.....” the grumbling of his stomach saved him from having to come up with any excuse.

Yor giggled at that. “Okay then. Let’s have our dinner.”

Loid glanced at their dinner table and chuckled when he saw Anya had already gobbled almost half of the meal herself. “Yeah, let’s. Before Anya finishes up all my hard work.”

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

NEXT >> 

<<PREVIOUS

MASTERLIST

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 6)

Summary: The reader’s relaxing plans for Dean at yoga class are anything but. However the rough evening turns out to be exactly the opposite when it helps Dean get over his fears...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, smut, drugging & overdosing

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

________

Reader’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Yoga is exactly what I need,” you said, throwing your head back. You grabbed Dean’s arm as he chuckled on your way into the studio. “You don’t have work tomorrow right?”

“Nope. We are both off from now until next week. I can’t wait to give you girls a proper thanksgiving again,” he said, opening the door for you.

“Does family come or is it just friends?” you asked.

“Mostly friends. We uh...there’s a lot of crap that’s happened to a lot of us. Some have lost people. Some left bad situations like Sam and I did. My Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen will normally come though. They don’t talk to my parents anymore,” he said.

“Well I am looking forward to meeting anyone you consider family,” you said, showing him to your locker. “So you can put your coat and shoes in here and I will go get you a spare mat.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You whistled as you went over to the front desk and got a rental for Dean, seeing some other people there for class.

“Hey Y/N. Been awhile,” said Kerri as you headed back to the lockers. 

“Yeah. Life’s been a bit crazy. I managed to get my boyfriend to come with tonight,” you said. “He could use with some relaxing too.”

“Oh is he cute?” she asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” you laughed as she walked in with you. Dean turned in your direction, gaze going right to Kerri. “Dean this is Kerri. She’s one of the instructors here.”

“You look so familiar,” she said to him. “Have we met?”

“Yes,” he said. He turned back to the locker and you saw him tense and start pulling on his winter boots again. “Y/N I got an emergency call. I need to take this.”

“Do you want me to…” you said, Dean walking out with his jacket under his arms. “Uh, sorry. He’s a doctor. There must be an emergency.”

“Oh no trouble. I definitely remember him now,” she grinned. You raised an eyebrow and she laughed. “It was a one night stand years ago. There was nothing to it. He was very fun to play with.”

“Fun to play with how?” you asked.

“Most guys aren’t into fingers...in places,” she said. You stared at her and she looked around. “Maybe it was just a phase. He was into all sorts of kinky shit.”

“Walk away,” you said as it dawned on you.

“What?”

“I said walk away before I punch you in the face.”

“Don’t be such a prude. He asked for-”

“He asked for you to stop. That’s assault what you did.” You clenched your fists, catching her size you up and down. She was tall but slim and didn’t have the muscle you did. 

“Wait in the car,” said Dean, his hands on your arms tugging you backwards. You glared up at him but he pushed you back towards the door. You grumbled and went outside, Dean returning less than a minute later with your coat and yoga mat. He tossed them in the backseat and drove off, pulling into a parking lot after a moment. “Y/N I don’t need you to defend me.”

“I wasn’t defending you. She pissed me off. I’m never going there again,” you said. You crossed your arms and he looked out the window, leaning his head against the glass. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“You didn’t know. I didn’t know. I never knew what she did for work,” he said.

“Can we just go home?” you mumbled. Fifteen minutes later you were in your bedroom, Tessa and Toast over Hailey’s, Sam out catching up with some friends. You tossed your yoga mat in the closet and ran your hands over your face.

“You did promise me yoga,” said Dean. You moved your hands down to catch him picking up the mat. “Show me?”

“I don’t know how to teach.”

“A few moves then,” he said. He held out his hand and you took it, following him out to the bedroom. You laid out the mat in the open space, pausing when Dean took off his shirt and tossed it aside. He stood by the end of the mat with a smile and shrugged. “What’s up first, boss?”

“We’ll do a little light stretching,” you said. You stood at the opposite end, Dean matching you work your arms and legs a bit. “Let’s just do a little three move circuit. Pretty beginner stuff. Let’s do cat cow so get down on your hands and knees. I’ll do it first and then you can try.”

You went down to the floor beside him, arching your back and then bowing it, doing it a few times for Dean to catch on. 

“Like this?” he asked as he arched his spine.

“Yeah. It works your lower back,” you said. He did the pose for a minute or so when you got up to your feet. “Okay. We can do a quick warrior. This one stretches your legs and hips.”

You got into position, Dean mostly matching you aside from leaning too far forward.

“Tuck your hips back,” you said. 

“Uh, what?” he asked.

“Can I?” you asked. He nodded and you put your hands on his hips, pulling them back a little. “Now put your weight forward...and keep your back straight...and there you go.”

“This feels weird. Like a stretch and strength at the same time,” he said. 

“Welcome to yoga,” you said. “Now try with the other leg forward.”

He turned and faced you, letting you help him put his hips in the right spot again. He lowered his arms and rested his hands over top of yours, standing up, moving you with him. 

“You uh, have one more pose,” you said, Dean not saying a word when you ran your thumbs over his skin.

“Maybe another time,” he said. You started to move your hands away when he caught your wrists. You laid them back on his hips and gave a cautious squeeze, Dean taking a sharp breath. “If I hadn’t come in, what would happened back there.”

“She’d probably have a black eye right now.”

“You shouldn’t be violent.”

“People shouldn’t hurt you. She would have deserved it. She does deserve it.”

“I told you that you don’t have to defend me.”

“Well I’ll defend you whether you like it or not. You’re my boyfriend. You don’t like it, tough shit.”

“Touch me. Please.” You stared at him and he slide your hands up his chest. “Y/N.”

“Where?” you asked softly.

“Everywhere.”

“Does everywhere include down there?”

“Yes,” he said, leaving your hands on his pecs. “I am so not afraid of you. I never had to be.”

“I’m gonna freshen up quick. If you’re so inclined to take off the rest of your clothes while I’m gone, I’d have no problem with that,” you said. You raked your fingers down his torso gently and he shivered. “Been awhile for me too, Dean.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said. You kissed him briefly before you ducked into the bathroom. You peeled off you workout clothes and stripped down, washing off your face. You waited a beat and opened the door, the bedroom darker now. Dean’s back was to you and you smirked at his perky cheeks, Dean spinning around with a smile.

“Hey.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he said. 

“I know,” you teased, Dean chuckling long enough for you to walk up to him and kiss him. “Tonight’s about you, alright?”

“Why not the both of us?” he murmured, dipping his head low to your neck before he started kissing the skin. You arched it back for him and put your hands on his ribs. He shuddered but it looked pleasant that time, his hands gently landing on your hips. 

“Mostly about you then,” you said, gripping his sides. 

“I can agree to that,” he said. You broke off and climbed up on the bed, pulling Dean with you into the middle. He sat back and let you take charge of a kiss, his hands lazily wandering up and down your back. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you breathed out as you caught your breath.

“I can touch you right?” he asked.

“Yes, Dean,” you said with a smile. “I highly encourage it actually.”

“Just wanted to make sure.” 

“Why don’t you lay back and we can take this nice and slow.”

“Alright,” he said. He scooted further down the bed and lay back, gazing up as you straddled him and dipped your head low. “Wait.”

“You okay?” you asked, sitting up as Dean smiled.

“Yeah. I got condoms in the drawer is all,” he said, nodding towards his nightstand.

“And you already know I’m on birth control,” you said. “You good to keep going?”

“Yeah,” he said, your head dipping low once more and kissing under his jaw. “Stealing my moves on me sweetheart.”

“Good,” you mumbled against his skin, kissing him softly, running your hands all over his shoulders, his arms, his chest. You gripped his sides carefully, Dean’s eyes fluttering shut. “You’re all mine, you got it? Gonna take good care of you.”

“Why?” he asked as you gave kitten kisses down his chest. “Would you want me to be yours I mean?”

“Cause you’re my boy,” you said with a smile, cupping his cheek and giving him the gentlest kiss you could. “You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend too,” he said softly. He reached up and pulled you flush with him, kissing you deeply. He roamed a hand down the curve of your spine, dipping in the hollow of your back before traveling up again. “I trust you.”

“Good,” you said, kissing him and reaching over to the nightstand. You dug around and found the box, pulling out a condom. You tore it open and sat back, Dean propping himself up on his elbows. He nodded and you lightly grazed his cock, Dean’s breath hitching. It was mostly hard already and you slipped the condom over the head, rolling it down slowly, Dean throbbing under you. You smiled and leaned back, waiting a beat to wrap your lips around his tip.

You bobbed up and down slowly, only a few inches, focusing on the head when Dean’s hips bucked and he groaned.

“Gotta stop,” he said and you pulled off. “I’m too wound up. I was about to come already.”

“You come as many times you want to,” you said. He grinned and you moved closer to him, hovering over him, kissing him again, Dean exploring more with his hands. Goosebumps broke out over your skin while he touched you, smirking when rolled your hips against nothing.

When his hands rested on your hips you slid back and lined yourself up with his cock, sinking down slowly, Dean squeezing gently when he bottomed out.

“Same,” you said, lifting off and back down, Dean letting out a tiny laugh.

“Ah, that feels so good,” said Dean.

“Like I said, lay back and enjoy.” You rolled your hips and started a steady pace, Dean’s palms landing on your thighs after only a minute.

“Y/N, I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead,” you said. You went a hair faster and before you knew it, Dean’s hands were on his hips and you felt him tensing beneath you, Dean gasping when you clenched around him. You rode him for a few more thrusts, Dean enjoying every last second of his orgasm. You giggled and lowered your head, kissing him quickly. “Feel good?”

“Definitely,” he said. “Come here.” 

You cocked your head and he lifted you up, pulling you forward, your hands slamming against the headboard.

“Dean what-” you said as he slid down, holding you over his face as he ate you out. You slammed your hand again when he teased your clit, Dean chuckling under you. “Dean.”

You breathed hard, Dean knowing exactly what he was doing as he swiped his tongue over you. You moaned when you came, Dean holding your legs as they quivered. You panted and slumped back down beside him. 

“Fuck. Me,” you said. You sat up and reached over, removing the condom before you got up. Dean giggled in bed as you threw it away in the trash, grabbing onto the doorframe of the bathroom when your legs wobbled.

“I still got it,” he said with a big stretch as you cleaned yourself up.

“I will definitely take more of it,” you said. You walked back up to the bed and reached under the covers, wiping him off with a washcloth as he looked up at you with a goofy smile. “What?”

“You’re cleaning me up,” he said. 

“I like taking care of you,” you said. You tossed the washcloth in the laundry basket by the closet, Dean wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” He kissed your temple and smiled, holding you to him. “I had a lot of fun tonight all things considered.”

“Good,” you hummed as you shut your eyes. “Still kinda wanna go kick Kerri’s ass.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” laughed Dean. He played with your hair and you burrowed down into him, starting to drift off when there was a knock at the door. “Yes?”

“Guys I don’t feel good,” said Tessa. You sat up and Dean pulled on some boxers and sweatpants by the time you put on his shirt and a pair of underwear. He opened the door and Tessa was leaning against the wall. Dean put a hand on her head and glanced back at you.

“You feel okay before Hailey dropped you off?” he asked as he checked under her jaw. She shook her head and he walked her into your bathroom where you saw how pale she was. He got out the first aid kit from the cabinet and took out a thermometer, sticking it in her ear. He pouted when he pulled it back, showing you.

“Ninety eight?” you asked, Dean nodding.

“Tessa tell me what else is wrong,” he said. He felt her abdomen but she just shut her eyes. “Tessa.”

“I’m tired and cold and achy and feel like I’m gonna throw up and my skin’s weird, like tingly, and I’m just really like off,” she said. He crossed his arms and she blinked hers open, Dean pinching the bridge of his nose. “What?”

“Your eyes are dilated. Did you take drugs tonight, yes or no?” he asked. She scoffed and he ran a hand over his face. “Tessa. I’m serious. Yes or no.”

“I don’t take drugs. I had a headache so Hailey’s mom gave me an advil,” she said.

“Tessa, I’m not joking around.”

“I’m not laughing,” she shot back. 

“Tessa,” you said, her face softening. “What did you take?”

“Her mom gave me an Advil!” she said. 

“Call Hailey’s parents and find out exactly what medication she gave her,” said Dean. You left the room and found your phone on the bed stand. You walked back a few minutes later with Dean still checking Tessa over. “Well?”

“Heather I’m gonna put you on speaker,” you said. You tossed the phone down and Dean took a deep breath.

“Heather this is Dr. Dean Winchester. We met a few weeks ago when the girls were in the car accident. Tessa’s just gotten back home and is showing some serious signs of drug side effects. I need to know what and how much you gave her,” said Dean.

“It was just a painkiller. My doctor says it’s just like Advil,” she said. Dean rolled his eyes but bit back a comment.

“Heather I need to know the name of the drug and the amount of milligrams you gave Tessa. It’ll be right on the bottle,” said Dean.

“Fine. Give me a minute.”

“Are you aware that it’s illegal to give prescription drugs to anyone that’s not the intended recipient,” said Dean. There was silence on the other end and Tessa leaned back against the counter, gripping it tightly. “Heather.”

“Yes, yes. It’s Hydrocodone. I gave her three pills since she said it was quite bad,” she said. 

“Tessa, throw up right now,” said Dean. He pulled her over to the toilet and she stared at him. “You need to put your fingers to the back of your throat and trigger your gag reflex. Do it right now.”

She paused only a moment before she forced herself to, Dean holding her hair as she wretched.

“Y/N. 911. Tell them she’s overdosing on an opioid,” said Dean. You hung up and dialed, your local fire department showing up within four minutes. You let them in and showed them upstairs, one of them opening up a bag when they got into the bathroom. 

“Deano. Not the way I wanted to meet the new girlfriend,” said a guy. He pulled out a syringe and Tessa hurled again. He stabbed the needle into her leg and she yelped, scooting back into Dean. 

“That’s gonna help buy us some time,” said Dean. He picked up Tessa and carried her downstairs, Toast pacing around frantically. “She’s gonna be fine, buddy. Y/N, why don’t you ride with your sister and I’ll follow behind in the car, okay?”

“Alright,” you said, an ambulance there by the time you walked outside. She threw up a few more times in the ambulance and they rushed her into the ER, jabbing her with some needles. Dean jogged in with a fire department shirt on, handing you a pair of sweatpants as he stepped inside the room.

“Paramedics say Hydrocodone overdose?” asked some doctor that was tearing open a black package.

“Yeah. Three pills intended for an adult woman about thirty minutes ago,” said Dean. “Didn’t get milligrams.”

“She’s been vomiting,” he said.

“First time tried to flush out what was left in her stomach. She hasn’t stopped since,” said Dean. He grabbed your arm when he saw a black capsule in the doctor’s gloved hand. “Y/N you don’t want to watch this.”

“Dean, it’s-”

“I will stay right here with Tessa.” You nodded and stepped back. “The police will show up soon I’m sure. I’ll come get you when she’s ready to see you.”

“Is she-”

“She’ll be okay,” he said. “I think we caught it real early. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You pulled on the pants and took a seat on a bench in the waiting room, Dean coming back about ten minutes later to get you.

“Hey,” said Tessa wearily, her lips stained black and some streaks down her chin and neck. “I really liked this shirt too.”

“We’ll get the stains out,” said Dean. “Doc this is the big sister and guardian.”

“Alright big sis. Tessa’s gonna be just fine. Her vitals are already all back up in the normal range. We’re gonna keep her overnight and flush out her system. She’ll be able to go home in the morning.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“Thank him. He made my job easy,” said the doctor. “A nurse will bring some paperwork over in a minute to get her admitted.”

“Thank you,” you said. He left along with most everyone else in the room besides a nurse, Dean finding your hand and giving it a squeeze. “And thank you. Really.”

“I like the little dork,” he said, ruffling Tessa’s hair. She gave a half smile and closed her eyes. “Tessa I’m sorry if it sounded like I was accusing you of taking drugs. You were very ill for a second there and I was scared.”

“Why?” she asked. “Don’t you deal with stuff like this all the time?”

“In med school I did. But you’re like my little sister. It’s different,” he said. 

“I like having a family again,” she said quietly. She nuzzled his hand for a moment and you smiled. “I should get all the credit for getting you two together you know.”

“You’re delusional,” you joked. “Hey you want ice cream in a little while? I can run out and get you some.”

“Yeah. My throat hurts,” she said. 

“How about I run home and get you some clean clothes and ice cream and you’ll be all set for it by the time I get back?” said Dean. She nodded and you promised you’d be right back as you walked out with Dean. You took a deep breath out in the hall and he pulled you into a big hug. “She’s okay.”

“I know. You really care about her,” you said.

“If I’m overstepping-”

“No. Not at all. She likes having a big brother. Two of them. Trust me. She tells me things.”

“She reminds me of Sam sometimes,” he said.

“I will happily take someone else watching her back. As long as I get to watch yours every once in a while too,” you said.

“Mmm I will take you up on that tomorrow. You still owe me a post-sex cuddle,” he said.

“Sadly I think we’ll have to do it again if you want the right mood for it,” you smirked.

“Such a shame,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” you said when you saw Dean in the hallway an hour or so later, Tessa watching TV in her room. You were speaking to a detective and after Dean brought Tessa her ice cream, he stepped into the hall with you. “Detective Hawkins this is my boyfriend, Dean.”

“Y/N’s told me about your involvement tonight. I’d like to get your statement,” he said, flipping to a new page in his notebook. “Just take me through your evening sir.”

“Um…” said Dean as he glanced at you. 

“Sir this isn’t a group statement,” he said. Dean sighed and started to recant you two having dinner and then what happened with yoga. He didn’t give any details about your bedroom antics until Tessa showed up. 

“Then I left to go home and get a change of clothes for the girls and some ice cream for Tessa. I just got back,” said Dean. He nodded and bit his lip for a moment. 

“Would you like to press charges against this Kerri person?” he asked.

“No,” said Dean quietly. “I have no proof anyways. I’d rather forget about it.”

“Alright. There are counseling-”

“I understand,” said Dean. “I’m more concerned about the fact a prescription opioid was given to a teenager so nonchalantly. A teenager with a history of seizures.”

“I’ll give it to you straight,” he said, tucking his notepad away. “There’s a reason you’re speaking to a detective about this and not a regular cop. This is not the first incident involving the Locke family and the severity of this one has raised it up the chain. There’s a class action involving two other families pending. I would suggest you get involved with them if you intend on suing.”

“Yeah but courts don’t tend to…” said Dean before the detective gave him a look. “Oh. Oh. The parents are…”

“Mother is also a doctor. You get the picture,” he said, giving Dean his business card. “I’ll be in touch with you two and Tessa.”

“Thank you,” said Dean. He nodded and the detective left as you cocked your head. “Tessa’s mom is pushing pills.”

“What?”

“She’s got access. She gives a younger person free dosage, makes ‘em feel good, gets ‘em hooked and then she collects. You mentioned Hailey has older siblings. I guarantee those are who that cop is talking about.”

“Hailey is her best friend. I’m supposed to tell her she can’t see her anymore?”

“Her best friend’s mom tried to give her a drug addiction. She nearly killed her. Hailey didn’t do that though.”

“Guys,” called Tessa from her room. You both ducked around the corner, Tessa sat up in bed and toying with her pint of ice cream. “I think Hailey knows. She’s been acting weird lately and like, talking to the stoner kids a lot at school.”

“Well that might-” you said before Hailey held up her phone.

“She texted me and told me not to say anything to get her mom in trouble,” she said. 

“I’m gonna go get the detective before he leaves,” said Dean. He jogged out of the room and you took a seat on the side of the mattress. Tessa put her phone back in her lap and poked her ice cream again.

“Tessa it could be coincidence.”

“But it’s not. She’s so sketchy lately and she doesn’t even care I’m in the hospital. She didn’t care about Toast getting hurt. It’s her fucking fault my dog lost his leg. She didn’t even care. She’s been this way since the summer and fuck her.”

“Do you want to sue? It’s your call,” you said. She nodded and you gave her a hug. “Okay. We’ll get all this sorted out as soon as we can.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 7 here!

[rebelwrites]

Nothing But A Pirate

Killian Jones x Reader

Summary: When the reader thought they had found true love they didn’t think that true love would leave her with a broken heart

Requested by @thenocturnalsyren // Hi. I don’t know if you’re taking requests right now but can I get a Hook x reader where the reader is Regina’s younger sister who she’s very protective of. Regina’s not entirely thrilled that her sister is getting close to Hook, a pirate, and threatens to tear his life apart if he doesn’t break it off before the relationship progresses to just more than friends. Reader is heart broken until one night when Hook drunkenly confesses what happened and his feelings for her.

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Killian Jones Masterlist

“Thanks for a good night Killian” you grinned as he walked you to your front door.

“You needed it” he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear making you feel like a teenager again.

“I hope you realise you aren’t getting this shirt back any time soon right?” You giggled resting your hands on his chest.

“I know, I mean it looks better on you than it ever did on me” he winked

“I best get going before Regina realises I’m still out” you laughed.

“Love she’s not your mum and you are 26” he smirked.

“I know but you know how overprotective she is of me” you shrugged “but I will see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah you will love” he nodded “now go get some sleep you have work in the morning”

“Oh if I’m tired I’m fully blaming you” you giggled.

“Guilty” he winked.

“Night Killian” you smiled standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N” he smiled hugging you.

Quietly you unlocked the door, waving at Killian before you closed the door as quietly as you could hoping Regina wasn’t still up. You didn’t know what you and Killian were, but you couldn’t deny you were falling for him. Leaning against the front door you couldn’t help but smile at how amazing the night had been, yes you might have been slightly buzzed from the rum but you needed a night like this.

“What time do you call this Y/N/N” Regina said appearing from the kitchen.

“Shit I didn’t realise you were still up” you sighed.

“Where have you been?” She asked raising her eyebrow at you, she didn’t need to ask she knew where you had been but she wanted you to say it.

“Just out” you smiled.

“You were with him again wasn’t you?” She asked.

“Yes I with with Killian” you nodded.

“I’ve told you he is trouble, he is nothing but a pirate” she sighed.

“And I’ve told you before Ree, we are just friends” you sighed as you realised that’s all you would ever be.

“Somehow I don’t quite believe that” she frowned.

“Can I go to bed now?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Yes” she sighed, moving from the bottom of the stairs to let you up.

Regina had always hated how close you and Killian were but you never let it bother you, he made you feel like no one else had ever done and you were just friends. So her being over protective couldn’t wipe the smile on your face as you made your way into your room.

You couldn’t help it as you got changed for bed, you were going to sleep in his shirt, the smell of leather and spice was intoxicating and you knew you were going to get the best nights sleep wearing his shirt.

Morning soon rolled around, you were disturbed from your sleep from the sound of your alarm blaring in your room making you groan. You were tired from only getting 4 hours sleep but it was so worth it. Rolling out of bed you wiggled your toes in your fluffy rug as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

You knew you didn’t need to start getting ready straight away so you pulled on a pair of shorts, grabbing your phone you headed downstairs for some much needed coffee.

“Morning Aunt Y/N” Henry grinned from the breakfast bar.

“Morning kiddo” you smiled ruffling his hair making him groan.

“So mums not happy with you” Henry said resting his head on his fists.

“When is she ever happy with me” you laughed as you poured yourself a coffee.

“You went out with Hook again didn’t you” he grinned.

“Yeah I did” you smiled leaning against the counter next to him. “But I don’t know why you are so happy about that kiddo”

“Well you see, you and Hook are meant to be together” he smirked.

“Let me guess it’s in your book!” You asked raising your brow at your nephew. “Look kid, me and Killian are just friends and that’s all it will ever be”

“Trust me” Henry winked.

“Don’t you need to be getting ready for school?” You asked nudging him.

“Nope it’s Saturday” he smirked making you laugh

Checking your phone you saw a text off Ruby asking if you could come on a bit earlier and open up as Granny wasn’t feeling too well.

“Gotta go kid, gotta get ready for work” you nodded kissing Henry’s head.

“You wanted to see me Regina” Killian asked walking into her office.

“Yes take a seat” she nodded. “I wanted to speak to you about Y/N”

He couldn’t help it, a smile formed on his face as your name was mentioned.

“I don’t want you seeing her anymore” she said coldly.

“Excuse me” Killian said in shock “we are just friends”

“See I don’t quite believe that, I’ve seen how you both flirt with each other and nearly every night I know Y/N sneaks out to see you.” She said with no emotion “you are a bad influence on her Killian”

“Like I said we are just friends” he said standing his ground.

“And if you don’t back off and break whatever it is you have going on with my sister before it progresses to more than just friends then I will tear your life apart” she hissed “do you understand?”

He just stared at Regina taking in the words she just spoke. There was nothing he could do, he knew if he didn’t follow her orders she would make your life hell as well.

“You know this will crush her?” He sighed running his hand over his face.

“She will get over it” Regina shrugged.

“You know if you make me do this I’ll have nothing to look forward to. My life will be empty” Killian said quietly.

“I’m sure you will find something to fill your time but it sure as hell won’t be from my sister” she glared “now pass me your phone if you know what’s good for you”

Reluctantly he handed his phone over to her and watched as she typed a message out before handing it back to him.

“Remember Killian I can make your life hell so don’t try anything” she smirked.

Instantly his heart felt heavy as he left the office but there was nothing he could do when Regina had backed him into a corner. As he was walking through the building he checked what she had sent.

New message to: My Trouble Maker 🔥

We can’t see each other any more, I was never your friend. I just felt sorry for you. Do not contact me, I’m done.

And in that moment he felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Ruby I’m taking my break” you shouted as you were walking out the door.

Your break always consisted of taking your coffee and going for a stroll through Storybrooke. You were in a good mood until you got a text off Killian. A text that made you freeze and tears fall instantly. He was just using you. Everything he had ever said was a lie. It was like the weather matched your mood as the bitter wind picked up making you pull your leather jacket tighter around your body. Cutting your wall short you stormed back into the diner and into the bathroom.

Leaning against the sink you tried to calm you breathing down but it was no use, you couldn’t control the sobs as you punched the mirror, watching it shatter like your heart. You knew nothing would ever happen with him but the fact he was just cutting you out of your life stung more than your now bleeding knuckles.

You didn’t even hear the door to the bathroom open until you felt the gentle touch of Mary-Margret as she placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Oh Y/N what happened?” She asked softly.

“Killian fucking Jones happened” you sobbed as she pulled you into her arms.

“Come on let’s get you out of here, we will get your knuckles cleaned up and we can talk” she whispered.

“Okay but what about work?” You whimpered.

“I will speak to Ruby” she said, guiding you out of the bathroom.

As you were waiting by the door, you felt every looking at you. You knew you looked a mess but didn’t care. That was until a certain pirate walked into the diner.

Before he could even reach you Mary-Margret stepped in.

“Don’t even think about it, I don’t know what you have done but you have broken Y/N so just go somewhere else” she hissed as she placed her hand on the small of your back guiding you out of the diner.

You were now sitting on Mary-Margret’s sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around you. You had finally managed to stop crying.

“So what’s got you so upset over Killian?” She asked “I thought things were going well with the two of you”

“I thought the same” you sighed “we had an amazing night last night sitting on his ship, drinking rum and him teaching me about the constellations but then today I get this text from him”

Passing her your phone she read the text and sighed.

“Oh Y/N” she whispered.

“I know we were just friends but I thought we could be more you know” you sniffled “he made me feel like no one else has ever done, and then there’s the flirting but I guess it was all lies and I don’t know what to do”

“Why don’t you help me with the fundraiser tonight, it might help take your mind off things even if it is just a couple of hours” she whispered squeezing your knee.

“Thank you” you whimpered. “To make matters worse Henry thinks Killian and I are destined to be together. I don’t know why he thinks that but I know he is going to try and convince me things are going to work out but I really don’t think they will”

“Maybe he is right Y/N look at me and David we had a rocky start but look at us now” she smiled “just give yourself some time, your heart will mend eventually”

“It just hurts” you whispered as a few more tears rolled down your cheek “I thought I meant something to him”

It had been a month and a half since your heart was shattered into a thousand pieces and you were still heartbroken, you weren't as lively as you once were. Nothing felt the same anymore. And right now you didn’t want to be drinking cocktails at Granny’s with Emma, Ruby, Mary-Margret and Belle but they forced you to come out. So you put your best fake smile on and pretended to be having a good night.

Hearing the bell ring as the door opened, you looked up wishing you hadn’t. You walked as Killian stumbled into Granny’s, it was obvious to anyone that he was drunk. And he was making a b line directly for you.

“No I don’t think so Mr” Ruby snapped as she stood up in front of you “she doesn’t care what you have to say especially not when you are drunk so just turn around and go away”

“Y/N please” Killian pleaded.

All it took was one look into his piercing blue eyes for you to cave.

“You have 5 minutes” you sighed, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Are you sure?” Ruby whispered, placing her hand on your arm.

“Yes Rubs I’m sure, if I’m going to get closure to move on I should hear him out” you nodded.

You followed Killian outside, and were relieved that no one was out here. Sitting at one of the tables you placed a cigarette between your lips not wanting to start the conversation.

All it took for Killian to start sobering up was you agreeing to give him 5 minutes of your time and seeing you so broken helped sober him up a bit.

“Love” he whispered sitting next to you. “I’m sorry”

“Is that all you have to say” you scoffed rolling your eyes “because if it is I’m going to go back inside”

“You know I’m never good with words” he sighed “it wasn’t me that sent that text”

“Oh so someone took your phone and sent it then” you laughed.

“Something like that” he nodded “look I didn’t want to cut you out of my life but I had to”

“You didn’t have to do anything Killian” you sighed leaning back in the chair.

“Regina threatened me” he said.

“No you are lying, my own sister wouldn’t do that to me” you snapped.

“She didn’t like that you were spending so much time with me and warned me that if I didn’t break off whatever was going on with us before it progressed then she would tear my life apart” he said as tears burnt his eyes.

Looking up at him you sighed, you knew when people were lying and right now you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

The two of you sat in silence as you lit another cigarette.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her” Regina’s voice appeared from behind you. “Or have you forgotten what I said.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, he was telling the truth all along.

“Excuse me” you spat standing up, squaring up to your older sister. “It was you”

“Yes it was” she said “I was only doing it to protect you Y/N”

“No what you were doing was making my life hell” you hissed “I’m a big girl now Regina, it’s my life and I can do what I want”

“Can’t you see he is a bad influence on you Y/N, he is just a pirate and he will never change” she said.

“I don’t care if he is just a pirate Ree” you shouted “you had no right doing what you did, and yes to you he might just be a pirate but to me he is more than that, he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“You know that’s all I want” she nodded.

“Then back the fuck off and let me live my god damn life, and if I want to spend my time with Killian I will damn well do so” you screamed.

“Fine but don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart” she said “I’m only doing this because I love you”

“You know I love you Ree but right now just go before we both do something we regret” you sighed taking a step back.

You watched as she left, taking a deep breath you ran your hands through your hair knowing full well Killian had just heard every you had just said.

“So” he smiled as you sat back down at the table.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you” you whispered, not looking at him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner what was going on” he said placing his hand under your chin lifting your face up so you were looking at him. “And I’m also sorry for not coming clean about how I felt, I didn’t know if you felt the same way and I thought I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than nothing else. Every night we spent on my ship, drinking and watching the stars were the best nights of my life”

You could help but smile as he wiped away the tears that fell, the feeling of him touching your skin was electrifying. And you couldn’t help but let your eyes flicker down to his lips before looking back into his eyes.

[nanamismoonchild]

 pairing: CEO! Namjoon x black Assistant! Y/N

genre: fluff, angst, boss/employee relationship, f2l

warnings: mention of racism/discrimination in workplace, very indirect mention of domestic abuse

Summary:   Losing your job was one of the worst things that could possibly happen to you. Bills started piling up, and soon enough you were in complete debt.  By a miracle, you were offered the position of assistant to the CEO of Persona who turns out to be a real sweetheart.

WC: 5.6k--i think this is the most i’ve written. i could’ve written some more but ya girl was losing that thing called inspiration. 

A/N: This fic is the definition of what a Hallmark movie is. First it takes you on a straight-forward path then BAM! But you gotta love them for that.  Remember was originally supposed to be called Deceiving the Moon, but I changed the plot entirely into this one and I can’t but love this version more so now it is Remember. And I hope you’ll remember to enjoy it!

beta-reader(s)-- @birbdae​ thank you for the praise and the tiny criticisms bby. they made me smile! 

The pink paper slip seemed to burn your hand as you held it.  The tears in your eyes did nothing to persuade your boss of three years to keep you on the project that you held dear to your heart. The new girl he had hired to replace you couldn’t meet your eyes as she handed you the box filled with your personal belongings from your office space. 

“Oh, ____. Before you leave, can you email the final preparations for the toy drive? We would like to get started as soon as possible.”

The bastard smiled up at you as he practically ripped your heart to pieces. The toy drive had been your idea from the start to beginning. You were the program manager as well the assistant to the CEO who had wanted nothing to do with the project until he learned of the tax cut he was able to receive.  

Then he replaced and fired you. Now he was asking for your hard work that you manifested.  

You had dealt with a lot of shit regarding this company. Racist comments while being the only black woman on the team, being told you hair being in braids was not professional, and being paid the least out of everyone including the new assistant. Yet you had stayed. Your dreams of finally managing to pull off a huge event in your name had made you persevere and smile in the face of the evil work environment. 

The dream slowly crumbled as you stared at the assistant, the boss, and the pink slip. There was no way you would give him anything you had created.  

“No. Start the entire project yourself. I’m sure your new assistant knows how to program manage. I’ll be taking my toy drive elsewhere. I will not be letting the kids down because of your incompetence and willingness to fire me two months before the charity was supposed to begin. Fuck you.”

The CEO’s smile dropped quickly hearing those words. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But before he could retract his statement of firing the one person he knew he could count on, you left the office, head held high, middle finger in the air. 

 Three weeks later, the many jobs you had applied for had not replied to you, and your last paycheck from the previous job was slowly dwindling. If nothing came up soon, you wouldn’t be able to afford the rent for the next month. 

Your friends Seokjin and Jungkook offered to help; however, your pride was getting in the way and you would only use them as a last resort if you couldn’t find a job in time. 

For the time being, you tried to relax and avoid thoughts of the impending bills that threatened to pile up. 

Putting on a bonnet and pouring a glass of wine, you prepared to pamper yourself with a little Netflix binge. Seokjin had brought the wine as soon as he had heard about what happened. He worked at  Persona and couldn’t believe the unjust condition that had been forced on you. Persona was the best company to work at according to your older friend. He had once tried to convince you to apply there. Yet you hadn’t listened. There might not have been a chance to grow there seeing as many interns went there after graduating like Seokjin, and you prefer not to work with friends. As much as you loved Seokjin, you knew how childish he could be despite the mature attitude he tended to exude. You were the same way. Putting you two together in the same building was a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

The day he brought the wine, he told you the CEO--Kim Namjoon- was looking for a new assistant and would more than listen to your project proposal. 

Not to mention, he would pay you more than what you received at your old company. 

The idea tickled in the back of your mind as you sipped your wine. As much as you would have liked to work somewhere differently, the bills were waving at you in the distance and the employers you had contacted seemed to be uninterested. At least Seokjin could put in a good word for you. 

Picking up your phone, you dialed the number you knew well. 

“___! “ “Jinnie!” You could hear Jungkook in the background, yelling something that was unclear to you. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need food? I just made those dumplings that you like so much. I could run them up to you.”

“Please. I haven’t eaten anything all day. But that’s not why I called. I want to know how to apply for the position of the assistant.”

Seokjin audibly gasped and made a sound keen to a squeal.  

“You apply by showing up tomorrow in your best business apparel at eight am sharp tomorrow at my doorstep so I can take you for open interview sessions. And bring your portfolio--no resume needed.”

“No resume?”

“Nope.”

“Oh...Alright. Eight am sharp. Best business clothes. Portfolio. Got it. Thank you Jinnie.” “No problem, __. Anything for Jungkook and I’s best friend who tends to steal our hoodies,” he said, a smile practically being heard through his voice.

“Those aren’t your hoodies anymore first of all. Second of all, I don’t steal. I borrow without the possibility of giving it back.  Third of all, bring me my food. I’m starving.”

“I’m already at your door. Open up. And Jungkook came here too. He brought that silly game of his.” Hanging up, you stand up to adjust your bonnet and the pajamas you had lounged in. You walked over to the door and opened it to see your friends’ arms full of snacks and games to play for the night. 

“We’ll be done with our mini get together for you to get enough sleep and prepare for your interview. Right now, we’re going to help you mope around,” Jungkook told you as both he and his older roommate stepped into your apartment.  

“Somehow I doubt it, but I’ll give you the time of day since you brought dumplings.”

All three of you laughed. 

 The next morning, the alarm blared at six o’ clock. Sitting up and stretching your limbs, you pushed yourself off the bed and into the bathroom. You needed to look your best for the interview and show you were the best candidate. And that started with a nice, hot shower. The lavender soap washed the stress off of your body and the water carried it into the drain. 

Jungkook had helped pick out your outfit while Seokjin had helped prepare your portfolio.Your hair was braided, and it was too heavy for you to set it into a bun of some sort, so you let it stay down and applied a little coconut oil.  

 Everything was ready and set. You were ready. 

At exactly eight o’ clock, you stood outside of Jungkook’s and Seokjin’s shared apartment. You could hear shuffling coming from right behind the door, alerting you that Jin was going to open the door. As he swung the door open, you leaned over to see a slightly disheveled Jungkook throwing on his backpack. 

“Late for class again?”

He grunted and moved past you. 

Jin laughed and locked the door before pushing you towards the exit of the apartment. 

“You ready for the open interviews?”

“I think so. Scratch that. I know so.” Your momma always told you confidence was the answer to everything.  

“You’ll wow Namjoon. You’re more than qualified and Namjoon could use your ideas. That’s why I said bring your portfolio.” “Thanks.”

 The drive to Persona was quick and easy. And loud as Jin played his favorite tunes and sang along to them. It uplifted your spirits and calmed some of the butterflies that blossomed in your stomach. You knew a lot about Namjoon from what Jin told you whenever he came home from work and bothered you. 

He was sweet and caring. His employees came first to him and took their opinions seriously.  Any criticisms anyone had was dealt with right away as a group or one on one. 

On one occasion, an employee’s car was destroyed because of her ex and she couldn’t find a way to work other than Ubers. It began to get too expensive, and she told Namjoon her dilemma. After a brief meeting, he was convinced to begin a carpool service for his employees at no cost to them. 

Your old boss was neither of those and only cared for the profits that came. If someone didn’t have a ride to work, it wasn’t his problem.

Namjoon’s handsome according to Jin. Tall, tan, and handsome had been the exact words Seokjin had said. Namjoon’s smile brightened everyone’s day when he smiled and nodded good morning to everyone. He always wore tailored suits--clothes fitting him to a T.   

You didn’t necessarily need these details for the interview, but knowing exactly what type of boss Namjoon would be would set your mind to achieve your goal of getting the job through any means. 

Seokjin walked you to the door of his boss’s office and knocked twice. A deep voice told you to come in.

The butterflies in your belly  picked up full speed. As you tried to calm yourself down, Jin opened the door. 

“Namjoon! ____ is here!” Jin announced.  

The man in particular was seated at a mahogany desk in a  leather chair that seemed much too small for him. As big as he was though, he exuded a calming aura, and not one of arrogance.  

He stood up, a huge smile spreading on his face. His dimples were pronounced and it made your heart skip a beat or two. Jin had not mentioned dimples. They were your weakness. 

“Thank you Seokjin. You can go get started on your work,” he dismissed the older man and turned to you. “ Hello,  Ms ___. A pleasure to speak to you today.” “Um, it’s my pleasure to speak with you as well.”

He circled around back to his chair, and motioned for you to take the chair across from. As you made your way over, you took in the decor of the office. It was bigger than your previous boss’s.   There were many statues that you knew were from the KAWS collection. You had a few yourself, but not as many as this man had. The statues were placed in display cases that were scattered around the room. The room was not stark white, and had small bouts of brown and orange around the room. It was unusually calming--helping those butterflies in your belly. 

Sitting down, you smiled at the man in front of you, not knowing how to start the interview. 

“So I presume Seokjin told you about the position and what I’m expecting, correct?”

“Yes, and I believe that I can do more than what you’re expecting of me.”

Namjoon nodded, “That’s good. An assistant who wants to do more is exactly what I’m looking for. My last assistant was an intern, and though she was great, I wanted a little more. I see you brought a portfolio. Tell me a little about what is in it.”

This was the moment you had prepared for. Even though you had anticipated it to be later in the interview, you knew exactly what to say.

“This portfolio actually contains some of the projects and the work I developed at my previous job. One of them includes a toy drive. I was fortunately able to keep the project for myself, and I planned on getting funding from a local bank in order to kickstart it again. The toy drive would consist of donations and toys I buy myself and giving it to domestic abuse shelters for the mothers and children-”

“When was this supposed to take place?” Namjoon interrupted, curiosity clear in his voice. 

“Oh, it was supposed to take place next month. December. It’s a time crunch but I believe I could do it. The other projects were for my boss who couldn’t be bothered to do anything for himself--Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Completely fine.” He drummed his long fingers on the table, encasing them in silence for a while. 

You hadn’t meant to ramble on about the toy drive, but the passion you felt for the charity event was incredible. Your mother had owned a domestic abuse home, and the amount of women and children who had to spend Christmas hiding away was consistently on your mind. You wanted to do something for them. 

“___?” 

“Yes?” You steeled yourself for another question. 

“On the basis that you continue this toy drive, and it is successful--I have a feeling it will  be--the job is yours.”

You practically jumped out of your seat, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and shaking it in excitement.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You will not be disappointed. I will be the best assistant to you and this toy drive means too much to me for it to fail.” 

Namjoon grinned, his dimples showing out again. “You can talk to Jung Hoseok in the HR department. He’ll get you ready to be an employee of Persona. I want you to work tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, you moved to stand up and leave before remembering to bow in respect. 

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. Not only will I have some of this paperwork done, but I’ll be getting very good advertisement for the company. It’s a win-win.”

“Right. How much paperwork do you have exactly?”

“It’s been about two months since my intern left, so…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll be here bright and early then,” you said giggling. “See you tomorrow.”

Closing the door behind you, you glanced around for your best friend. You found him near the coffee machine in the far corner. As you sidled next to him, you poked him, making him jump.

“___! That didn’t take too long. How did it go?”

“We should probably wake up early enough to eat breakfast before we both have to be at work.”

 The news took a minute to  register in his brain. He took your hands and brought you in for a hug. 

“I told you you’d get it! And no, we’re not waking up that early. We can breakfast here--there’s an all-day buffet set up in the kitchen. Speaking of, you might not even know where that is, so I’ll have to give you a tour of the place. But there’s a few hours til I have a lunch break.”

“It’s fine. I have to go to HR anyway and fill out some paperwork.” 

“Min Yoongi was just about to go there. Weren’t you?” Seokjin turned towards the stranger in question. Min Yoongi had been completely hidden from you because of Jin’s broad shoulders.  

“Uh, yeah. I can take her.” 

Yoongi held two cups of coffee in his hands and a manila folder tucked into his armpit. He was only missing a bluetooth speaker in his ear and you can say he looked like all of the clients your previous company dealt with.  He was handsome with pale skin and droopy brown eyes. 

You gave him a small smile, and let him lead the way to HR. It was a few floors down so you had to take the elevator. It was a slow ride down. 

“What’s your name by the way?”

“I’m ____. Just got hired.”

“Min Yoongi. You already know that though. I’m a financial analyst.”

“Sounds cool.  How long have you been working here?”

“I was hired last year. I’m assuming you know Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I’m his best friend.”

The conversation came to an awkward pause. Thankfully, the elevator arrived on your floor and Yoongi led you to the office of Jung Hoseok before heading off in the other direction. 

Jung Hoseok was seated behind a desk; his eyes were focused on the computer screen in front of him. He glanced away from his computer to focus on you and smiled.. Everyone here at Persona seemed to have easygoing smiles and it helped settle any uneasiness you had about accepting the job and getting to know your new co-workers. You had rarely interacted with any of your former coworkers outside of meetings.  You hoped to change that. 

“I’m assuming you’re ___? I have the paperwork on that table over there. Salary information, bank information, the usual. Please fill it  out and I will have you as an employee in no time. Take as much time as you need--I won’t be going anywhere soon.”

The paperwork was easy to fill out, taking only a few minutes of your time. You would be paid more than what you were being paid at your former job. You had thirteen vacation days and thirteen sick days, totaling twenty-six days in all for you to take care of yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been able to stay home from work for even having a rough day. There was an employee handbook at the end of the stack that you would take home and read. 

“I’m done.”

Hoseok startled, having forgotten you were in the room from how silent you were. You handed him the papers and promptly sat back down, avoiding all conversation with him.  He reminded you of everything you didn’t want in coworkers. 

It took him at least twenty minutes to get you into the system. He turned to you with the prettiest smile on his face. 

“Congratulations! You’re now an employee of Persona. I’ll have an ID ready for you tomorrow when you come in. I’ll meet you in Namjoon’s office.”

Working with Namjoon was poles apart from working with your old boss. He didn’t give you an ungodly amount of work to do just because he could. He let you catch up on the work that had yet to be completed by his intern and gave you enough time to plan the toy drive. 

You’d get so into your work, you’d lose track of time and he would have to guide you out of the office to eat lunch. He treated you to many lunches on several occasions always saying it was in his best interest to keep his assistant fed. You felt it was for more than that. 

Namjoon was very attractive and was definitely your type. Boss-employee relationships only worked out in fanfictions and movies unfortunately. And there was the small detail of the employee handbook strictly advocating for non-relations in the office. 

You’d discern a hint of flirtiness whenever he complimented your outfit for the day. Of course, you thanked him. But you refused to flirt back. There was no point in indulging in the flirting game. He was your boss and that’s all he would be for as long as you had this job. 

Biting into a sandwich that you brought for lunch, you go over the email once more. It was an email for the employees of the company to donate any toy they could. The deadline was the 24th considering everyone had Christmas off. A week and then the children could have a special Christmas filled with toys and cheer.  You only needed Namjoon to approve it and send it off. You had asked Park Jimin, who was part of the marketing team, to create little animations for you. They were the cutest things ever and made the email a lot more friendlier. A snowman waved, there was snowfall, and even Santa bringing a toy to a child. Jimin had completely outdone himself for you. 

Namjoon would be back from lunch in a couple of minutes, so you decided to sit in his office and wait for him.  It was only next door to your office so you didn’t mind and you could straighten up his filing while you were in there. 

Soon you were lost in the work of rearranging his file system. It was weird to see that man was usually always well-kept, but his organization skills were a little lackluster. No wonder he hired you on the spot. A picture was at the bottom of the file cabinet--Namjoon didn’t want everything to be on the computer for emergencies. Picking it up, you see a dimpled child with his arms around what you assumed was his mother. His face was covered in chocolate but you knew that it was a young Namjoon. They were sitting at a table filled with different foods and you could make out a Christmas tree in the background. A familiar tree. 

You had spent many hours and years in front of that tree. It belonged to your mother’s shelter. Your favorite ornament to hang on it was a Strawberry Shortcake ornament that your father had given you before the three of you moved to South Korea. That's how you recognized the tree. The ornament hung low from the Christmas tree exactly where you always put it. Namjoon had been there. You couldn’t remember ever meeting him considering you always spent your Christmases in the shelter with the families. 

You would have recalled seeing dimples as deep as his. 

A tiny gasp alerted you that you were being nosey. 

“Namjoon! I’m sorry. I was just re-organizing the cabinet. I didn’t mean to pry..but I found out something you might want to hear.”

“And what would that be?” His tone wasn’t angry but it still had a little attitude. 

“You used to stay at my mom’s shelter. Small world,” you started to giggle before realizing what exactly his and his mother’s staying truly meant. “Maybe you don’t want to hear that.”

To your astonishment, Namjoon smiled at you. A small one but your heart still fluttered. He wasn’t entirely mad at you. 

“Yeah. When Seokjin mentioned you for the position, I instantly recognized your name. I wanted to hire you right then. You had been so nice to me and my mother that it stuck with me for all these years. Obviously you don’t remember me as much as I remember you though.” 

“It’s probably because I’ve been so focused on the toy drive. I really want to surprise them this year. It’s the most I can do to show them that they’re not completely alone in the world. That people are thinking of them and want to help them.” “And I think this gesture would make everyone happy. I know I would have loved something like this.”

“And I would have gladly given it to you. But I was only ten years old at the time. But for right now, I need you to approve this mass email that advertises the donations of toys.”

Namjoon let out a guttural laugh and sat in his chair to review the email. 

 It was the 24th--the final day of the donation drive. Your co-workers had been dropping off toys since the email went out. The storage room on your floor was filled to the brim and you were beyond ecstatic.  There were doll-houses, kitchenettes, monster trucks, board games, painting sets, bicycles (with the training wheels), and even things for the older kids staying at the shelter. Namjoon had thought some of the toys could even go to another shelter in the city. You decided to pick a homeless shelter knowing there were a few kids there as well.  

Namjoon had helped you rent a truck for the day that would aid in loading and transporting the toys across the city to the shelters. Jin, Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi, and the new intern, Taehyung, had offered to help as well.  You were grateful for the help and thanked each of them for giving up a portion of their Christmas to help you deliver the toys.  

Loading the truck took hours as there were many toys. You treated everyone to a few drinks and dinner for all the help they were giving you. 

“Here’s to seeing the smiling faces on the children tomorrow when we deliver the toys!”

Throwing back the shot glass of soju, you whooped and whistled along with the men around you. The plan wasn’t to drink too much as you had to be up bright and early in order to deliver the toys to both shelters in time before the children woke up.  

The shelter leaders had already promised to try and keep them from going near the tree before nine that morning. 

After eating, you all made your way to your cars--of course you had back with Seokjin and Jungkook. You reminded everyone to meet at the office. You and Namjoon would be driving the truck, while everyone else trailed after you in their cars.

The morning could not come soon enough for you. 

 Waking up wasn’t hard for you at all. The exhilaration coursing through your body was enough to get you to hop off the bed and into the showers without so much as a grown. The bonnet you had placed on your head the night before had kept your hair in tip top shape as usual. You could always trust a bonnet. 

Finger combing out the curls that had flattened a little through the night, your afro soon came to its puffy and natural state of bouncy curls.  

You rushed to put on the ugly sweater outfit you had bought for this occasion before rushing out of the door, colliding into Jungkook and Jin. They, like you, were excited for the day ahead of you. 

The three of you packed yourself into Jin’s car and blasted Mariah Carey’s Christmas album for the short ride to Persona. 

The rest of your group was already waiting for you. Jimin had made hot chocolate for the lot of you, and after a brief moment of making sure the toys were all packed into the truck, Namjoon and you climbed into the front seats, and took off. 

Namjoon was singing off-key to ‘What Do the Lonely Do on Christmas’--a classic love of yours--creating a symphony of giggles from you. The Christmas cheer was big in all of you, especially the tall giant that is Namjoon.   He was showing a much goofier side of him that you would have loved to see more of in the office. The man was carefree most of the time,but he always held this air of seriousness. You couldn’t help but wonder if his childhood had created some of that. 

The shelter was slowly moving into your vision as you got closer and closer. You heartbeat picked up, realizing just how much you missed being here with your mom and dad. They were some of the best memories you could ever have. However, your mom began to think that the shelter wasn’t the best place for you to grow up in and made you stay with your father at home or in his office. You had always come back, but it was always too crowded and the children never wanted to play with you since you were in high school. You thought it was because they couldn’t relate to you since you hadn’t been in their position. 

Namjoon pulled into the drive of your mother’s shelter, parking the car to where the trunk faced the door for easy access. 

Your mother was waiting for you at the front door and gave you a tight hug. 

“Hey baby girl! I’ve been waiting for you. The kids are going to love waking up to these.”

“I know Mama,’ you turned to introduce the boys. A bashful Namjoon was already behind you.

“I’m not sure if you remember but this is Kim Namjoon.  He used to stay here.”

It took your mother a minute to recognize him. He had grown up so much from the scrawny little one he used to be. Always hiding under his mother unless he was playing with you. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Kim Namjoon. Son of Kim Eunha. Boy, look at you! Come here and give me a hug,” your mother said, her southern drawl prominent in her voice.  She pulled Namjoon into a hug, making the huge man blush a deep red. 

Holding back a giggle, you stuttered, “Mama! Mama! Let him go. We gotta get the toys out the truck or the kids are going to see nine Santas putting  toys under the tree. And it’ll just ruin everything.”

“You’re right. But I won’t be helping,” she laughed.  “Y’all have fun with that. Imma go make some cookies.”

You shook your head, laughing. Namjoon was laughing as well, indicating he remember just how boisterous your mother could be.

“It’s a black mother thing,” you told him. 

Unloading the toys didn’t take as long as loading them did to all of your surprise. The toys that were to be taken to the other shelter stayed in. Namjoon and you were staying here while the rest of the boys took those. 

The living room of the shelter was filled with toys for the little girls and boys, and you couldn’t be happier. For years, it had only been a few toys under there. Most of them had been from your family but you couldn’t afford too many.  

Your ornament on the tree was in the same place it always was. It was slowly losing a few of its colours, but Strawberry Shortcake could still be made out. 

“The famous Strawberry Shortcake. You know, I asked you if I could put it on the year I stayed here. You let me.”

The memory popped up as soon as he said it. 

You were both tired from running around in the snow for hours until Jack Frost started nipping at your noses. You only had enough energy to fix up the tree. Namjoo had asked to put it on, and you almost threw a fit before recalling why he was here. You obliged, and saw how happy it made him.  

“I did. You looked so happy. I think I wanted to kiss you.”

“We did. Right under that mistletoe.”

Blushing, you turned towards where Namjoon pointed and saw the old mistletoe your father put out to trick your mother into kissing him. He put it in the same place knowing she would stop right under it: the entrance to the kitchen. 

“Oh wow. Why am I just now remembering that. We had no idea what we were doing and you even bit me!”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you totally bit me,” the shriek of laughter you let out was enough to wake the entire shelter, but the memory was too amusing.  How had you forgotten it?

Before he could think of apologizing for the mishap and offer to re-do it, the laughter and shrieks of children waking up and bounding down the stairs interrupted the both of you. 

“Santa came! Santa came! Wow! Look a bike!”

Various gasps and squeals exploded through the living room. The mothers all had cups of hot chocolate, holding back tears of appreciation. Some of the older kids noticed the tablets that had been laid out on the “big kid” table and were soon immersed in figuring out who would get what. 

Your heart squeezed seeing all the happiness unfold around you. This was what you wanted. Just a day for the children and mothers to have a little hope.  

You picked up a gift that you had bought personally the day after seeing that Namjoon had stayed at the shelter. You had lied and said that you hadn’t remembered everything. But you remembered this one.

“Namjoon!” You held out the present for you. It was wrapped in spiderman paper wrapping but it was all you had left.  

He tore it open with vigor and let out a tiny gasp seeing what it was. 

“You remembered?”

“Yep. It was my pinky promise before I left. I always keep my promises.”

It was a leather notebook with a fountain pen. It was something that he could easily buy himself but you recollected the exact conversation you had years ago before leaving the shelter. 

 “Oh, you’re leaving ___?”

“Yeah,” you kicked at a frozen rock, “Mama thinks it’s not safe for me to be here right now. So I’ll be spending time with my Dad in his office from now on. I’ll still come here though. This place means a lot to me. “

“Cool. I won’t be after next week though. My mom finally found a place for the two of us.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you. You owe me another kiss.”

“”And I’ll miss you. I promise you another kiss if you promise me a leather book with a fountain pen.”

The surprised look on your face made him laugh.  

“Uhm, why a leather book with a fountain pen?”

“I want to be a business owner one  day. A leather book and fountain pen are fancy and I’ve seen your dad use one.” “It keeps him organized according to Mama. But I doubt it. Dad would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.”

You both laughed and pinky promised. 

 As much as you didn’t like boss-relationships, you had known Namjoon since your childhood technically. And you would like to get to know him more. Obviously your relationship was going to bloom had you two not been separated.  

Not to mention, he had let you finish the toy drive. Had it not been for him remembering who you were and loving your idea, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. Working for him was a Christmas miracle if you said so yourself. 

It was meant to be.  

“I think you owe me something now.”

Namjoon placed both of his hands on your hips, bringing you in closer to him. His smile showed you the dimples you had come to love to see.  

“I promise this time with no biting.”

Namjoon’s index and thumb lifted your chin up and his soft lips pressed against yours. 

Around you, the kids were tumbling around with their new toys and the teenagers were still fussing over the electronics. 

But the kiss is all that mattered. 

Merry Christmas to you. 

[engagemachine]

For the emoji head cannons. Any or all - you know I’m asking about J and Tay 🥰

💜🧺👀🚪

Alright, kids. BUCKLE UP. There's some seriously good stuff in here, including some headcanons written by a good friend and reader, and you don't want to miss it!

💜— How do they say goodnight?

J doesn't—at least not unless Taylor comes and says it first. Usually, he's not even home at night, and she's resigned herself on those nights to having to go to bed without him. She used to try and wait up for him, but she always ended up falling into a fitful sleep, usually on the couch or sometimes slumped over on the barstool at the kitchen counter, her head pillowed on her forearms, a little spot of drool on the counter. She'd wake sometime later, usually with an awful crick in her neck, or with the knowledge that school's in a couple of hours and Mr. J still hasn't come back yet....

It's hard to sleep when he isn't there, and her nightmares are always worse on those nights. Sometimes she gets herself really worked up, convinces herself he's not coming back, that he's abandoned her, that he's bored, he's moved on. It's embarrassing, how quickly she's capable of working her entire body into a full-blown panic attack. She hugs his pillow to her tummy and curls around it in the fetal position, closing her eyes, smelling him, the scent he left behind. Gasoline. Smoke. Sweat. Smells that should affront her, but she finds comforting instead. It's all she's ever known.

A couple of times she's woken after falling asleep at the counter, her homework all spread out around her in a half-moon circle, with a pair of strong arms picking her up. She's usually so sleepy by then that she just does what's natural—wraps her legs around his waist and winds her arms around his neck. He puts her in her bed, as he always does—and without fail, usually twenty minutes later, or maybe an hour—she's creeping into his bedroom and slipping under the covers, scooting across the expanse of the bed until she's curled up against his back. Finally she can whisper "good night", barely audible in the darkness. She traces a tiny heart on his spine with her finger, and then she drifts to sleep.

🧺— Random domestic headcanon

Taylor manages to finagle Netflix from Mr. J--and boy, she had to work for it--but now that she has it, she's obsessed. She can finally watch all these shows that everyone on Instagram and Youtube are always talking about. There's a little community of people on this Youtube channel she likes to watch, this girl who does her make-up and reviews TV shows at the same time. It's so fun, and it always puts her in a good mood. Sometimes she leaves comments on the videos, and one time a couple people commented back! It was so exciting, and she likes chatting with these strangers, especially because she has no one else to talk to, and sometimes she thinks Mr. J gets bored listening to her prattling about stuff he doesn't care about.

Anyway, she's started watching this one show. She asks Mr. J if he wants to watch it with her, but he always says no... and then proceeds to stand next to the couch for half an hour squinting at the TV, as if the events unfolding before him deeply confuse him.

"Mr. J, just sit down!" she says, laughing. But he always says he has to finish working... and then stands there for another thirty minutes until the episode is over.

It's kind of their thing, now, and she thinks he's starting to get really into the show, which is exciting. Maybe she can finally talk about it with him?

But then... but then. She had to know that this episode would come, they've only been hinting at the sexual tension with all the grace of a sledgehammer for the past five episodes, and now, episode six, they're finally doing it, and Taylor. Is. Mortified.

Mr. J is, of course, perched right next to the couch throughout the entire event, standing, hovering way too close, now that she thinks about it, and she reaches for a nearby pillow and holds it up to her face in a poor attempt to shield her blush from him. The characters are moaning so loud, oh my god, she might as well be watching porn--and Mr. J's standing right there! She peeks up to glance at him, once, twice, and the third time she does it, she catches him staring at her, smirking, and she flushes so hard that she gives herself a headache from the intensity of her bloodrush.

Oh, my god. This is the worst.

"Something the matter, sweet pea?"

Oh, he knows. She knows that he does.

But she plays innocent. She's not gonna tell him how embarrassing this is. No way.

"Nope," she squeaks. "I'm fine."

She leaves halfway through the scene, abandoning the couch with some mumbled excuse about having to go to the bathroom--and she hides out there and peeks between the crack in the door until the scene's done.

When she returns, Mr. J looks at her and frowns, picking up the remote.

"Shame you missed the good part," he says, completely straight-faced. She looks at him, blinking.

"Oh," she says, "Well, I--"

"Don't worry," he says, smirking in a way she knows can't be good. "I'll rewind it for you."

👀— What’s their favorite body part on themselves? On their partner?

Okay, so my good friend @darkobsessions1989 was kind enough to provide an answer for this prompt before I had even been prompted with it, and she wrote a gorgeous scenario for both J and Taylor, so with her permission, I'll share both of those here:

She's been sketching his hands a lot lately. Trying to convey their rugged elegance, the sinewy length of his fingers and sharp knobs of his knuckles. She wants to capture their strength and duality. The way those hands have the capacity to be as soft and gentle as they can be harsh and rough. How sometimes, they can even be both at once.

She isn't really sure that's something she's even capable of conveying through lead and paper, but she's been trying anyways. Her sketchbook is a filled with countless renderings of his hands. Various versions of his fingers, knuckles, and palms. Close ups that detail all the little lines and scars across his skin, and more distant takes that sometimes travel a little ways up his forearms. Most are in pencil, but a few have been executed in pen or fine tipped markers--whatever she had closest on hand at the time, really.

She often thinks about the time he'd caught her watching him while she scribbled away on that sort of project. How he'd asked to see what she was drawing, and chased her through the house to pin her to the bed when she was too embarrassed to show him.

She remembers the thrill that rolled through her when he made that suggestive, "If I'd only known..." comment, and how that thrill had doubled as he advanced on her. She remembers just exactly how his weight had felt atop her, how her heart had hammered away in her chest, her tummy jumping with anticipation as he slid her arms up over her head and pinned them against the mattress under a big hand.

She'd been half convinced he was going to escalate things as he'd slid his free hand down the front of her body, and she'd been all too eager to tip her hips up to accommodate. Much to her dismay, he'd backed off. But she thinks--now that she's had more experience with him in this regard--that he might not have if she'd told him what he'd wanted to hear.

She knows now that there are certain things he really likes hearing. The mere thought of most of those things makes her flush crimson. But sometimes... sometimes it makes her do more than just flush.

Which is why she hasn't really been bothering with trying to hide any of what she sketches. She does it right in front of him, even though it kind of makes her antsy when he pays too much attention or stares right back. She tells herself that if he ever sees her drawing his hands again and calls her on it, she's gonna tell him.

She's gonna tell him that she likes his hands, likes everything about them. Their size, their texture. The length of his fingers and the wide width of his palms. The way they look. Their impossible heat, and how they feel pressed against her skin. On her tongue. Inside her.

It occurs to her that maybe that's a part of why she's been drawing them so much. Maybe she's just been looking for another excuse. An opportunity to show him that she does know how to use her words.

Maybe she won't manage to say it all without clamming up, but she thinks she'd like to try. She thinks he'd like that.

--

His favorite body part of hers? Honestly, there really isn't any part of her that doesn't peak his interest in one way or another. He's got damn near every inch of her mapped out in his head, her visage cast and carved out across the meaty ridges of his brain like some grisly work of art. He knows her. Inside and out, both corporeally and otherwise.

That said, if he had to choose just one part of her, he supposes he does have a rather particular fondness for the nape of that long, skinny neck. The faintly raised notch of bone that protrudes there between where the back of her neck and shoulders meet. The way that stretch of tissue, skin and bone seems tailored just for him. For his cupping of the fragile curve of her spine in his palm of his hand, just below the base of her skull.

Sometimes he likes to spread his fingers there, slide them up into her hair against her scalp, or squeeze just a little too tightly at the sides of her neck. He likes the way her breath catches, how she often tries to ease the pressure of his grip by getting closer. He likes the little baby hairs that dust along her hairline there too. How they they get a little frizzy and stuck to the dampness of her skin whenever she works up a sweat.

Truthfully, for how often and closely he's studied her, he could compose an entire anthology dedicated solely to the intricacies of her body--not that he ever would.

🚪— What would kill their trust in their partner/close them off? Could this ever be amended?

Ugh, this is a great question. Taylor's seen (and found out about) a loooot of stuff that the Joker has done that she doesn't approve of/doesn't like. She knows he blew up Gotham University, and she knows about the camera he planted in her room, and the fact that he's been drugging her (which she has been blissfully willing to ignore after their little couch encounter at the end of chapter seven) and obviously a bunch of other horrible stuff he's done. So that being said, if J were to do something to close Taylor off/kill her trust in him, it'd have to be something pretty big. She's tolerated a lot so far in the story, but she isn't unbreakable. It's hard to answer this question without spoiling anything, but suffice to say, you'll have this question answered at some point in Burn.

As for J, I think even if Taylor were to go to the police/were to do something behind his back, these behaviors would certainly be grounds for him losing trust in her--but I also think he'd be of the mind that these little "infractions" could be amended. He'd just have to work extra hard to get her back on his side again--but he wouldn't give up on her. No way.

[emcon-imagines]

Finally Okay, Pt. 3

part 1, part 2

gif

characters: Wanda Maximoff x reader words: 2194 summary: reader and Wanda are close friends, one joining the Avengers and one going rogue after Sokovia. But after one terrible night, Wanda is forced to face the reality of your mission for revenge. a/n: ahhh fingers crossed please don’t let this flop lmao I worked real hard on this part and you can catch up if you haven’t read parts 1 + 2 yet!!! but anyways surprise and merry christmas!!!!! it’s like a little additional gift to you guys and the conclusion to this trilogy. tagging: @moonlit-imagines​ and @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​, who both expressed interest in a part 3!

You sat with Wanda for a long time in containment, saying nothing, but her familiar presence calming you down enough that your stomach started to churn less and less, and the shaky, panicky feel began to dissipate into exhaustion.

“You still with me?” Wanda murmured as you laid into her, head resting against her shoulder. She squeezed your hand again, trying to get a read on where your mind was. “You seem better.”

You lifted your head up as the door opened, simultaneous with the mechanical beeping of it unlocking. Wanda seemed to sense you tense and she didn’t let go of your hand, even as you clenched hers harder.

“Y/N?” one of the SHIELD agents in the doorway asked. “We’re going to have you stop by the lab to get checked out one more time, and then someplace more permanent for you to sleep tonight.”

You looked at Wanda, uncertainty etched across your face, as you mouthed the word “lab?” with the fear unmistakable in your eyes.

“They’re gentle,” Wanda said. “They’re not going to hurt you. Probably just make sure...” she nodded at the bandage on your stomach. “Well, you really tore yourself up there,” she said, almost ruefully.

You considered her words and finally nodded, sliding off the cot and wincing at the muted stab in your side, still hugging the shawl over your shoulders, as if it could offer some sort of protection from the unknown. When you got to the door, the SHIELD agent waved over to Wanda, who had gotten up as well, but was still standing on the other side of the room.

“Coulson asked if you could stay with y/n,” the agent said. “It’s better than...” he trailed off, glancing down at you and then back at Wanda, who was glaring at him.

“Sedating them again?” Wanda asked. She stepped over. “That’s what HYDRA used to do. You scared them, working on them while they were asleep.”

“That wasn’t my call,” the agent said, quietly. “But... I’ll let Coulson know.”

“It won’t happen again,” Wanda said, and you weren’t sure if she was talking to you or the agent.

The journey to the lab was quick, though you couldn’t ignore the stares from other agents, and the way many of them stopped walking completely to let the five of you, the main agent accompanied by two others, pass. You tried to look braver than you felt, standing up straight, putting up the same mask of anger that had helped you survive for so many years with HYDRA, your eyes dark and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a hard slash.

It was clear that Wanda wasn’t comfortable around the agents either, perhaps she would have preferred Natasha or Clint be the liaison instead, but if she did feel that way, she didn’t say anything about it. She’s here, isn’t she? Not her hero friends. Wanda came.

There were only two people in the lab when you arrived, but it seemed busy enough for ten times that amount of people. Not like any of the labs you had seen before. It was well-kept, though lived-in, a mug of tea here, a sweatshirt tossed over a chair there. Work covered the lab benches; you could only begin to guess what SHIELD was working on.

“Hi,” the new woman said, and gestured to a medical station set up behind a glass partition. “You can sit right over there, I’m just finishing something up first.” The others agents stopped at the door, not going any further, and you stepped into the lab cautiously, as if breathing could break something.

“Fitz, where did you put my notes when you moved them?” the woman asked. “Was two tables not enough space?”

“I put them over there,” Fitz said, pointing to where you had been directed to sit.

“Oh.”

You said down on the edge of the cot just as the woman, who you realized must have fixed you up earlier, joined you, finding her notes. “Sorry about that,” she said. “We’re all over the place today, Fitz is trying to build a... well... never mind, that’s a whole other thing.” She pulled a tool off a shelf, something that looked like a gun and you flinched. “Mind if I take your temperature again?” she asked. “I want to see if it’s gone down at all.”

You relaxed and nodded, picking at the paper unrolled on the cot underneath you. She held the thermometer up to your head and read it when it beeped.

“Hmm. You’re still a bit warm. How are you feeling?”

“Y/N runs warm,” Wanda interrupted, and you looked over to see her leaning against one of the lab benches, her arms crossed. “Something to do with their powers. It’s why they’re always cold, too.”

“So, you radiate it all out?” Simmons asked. “And so it’s like you leave none for yourself?” She smiled a little as she put the thermometer away and scribbled a note down. “That’s neat.” She glanced back at you. “I mean, it’s just interesting is all.”

“Thanks.”

Simmons raised an eyebrow at Wanda, they talk?, before picking up her notes and writing something else down. “When was the last time you had a doctor’s appointment?” she asked. “I mean, a real one.”

“Um...” you glanced down at your feet. “Never?” You had managed to avoid doctor’s all these years, even the time you had the flu, or the time you nearly cut your own finger off trying to cook. Glancing at the nasty scar on your thumb, you began to think that maybe that was a mistake. From the other side of the room, you heard Wanda’s exasperated sigh.

“Right, okay,” Simmons said. “Well, I’m going to try to make this as painless as possible, as long as... well... you’re going to have to promise to help me out here. Have you eaten yet? I can send Fitz to the cafeteria to get you something to eat while we talk. What do you like?”

“I’m a bit occupied at the moment,” Fitz said from the other side of the lab, earning a hard look from Simmons, under which he finally relented. “Sorry, what do they like?”

Simmons kept her promise, which surprised you, and you kept yours, which maybe surprised you even more. She checked on your wounds and changed your bandages, tried to find out if anything else hurt that she had missed when you arrived, and only gave you one shot-- a flu shot-- of all things. And you finally ate, picking at the layers of the sandwich Fitz brought, eating one ingredient at a time, swatting Wanda’s hand away when she tried to steal one of the apple slices Fitz brought as well.

“You’re not going to share?” she asked, nudging you and giggling.

“No.”

“Brat,” she said, but she was still smiling. “After all this, you won’t even share one?” You saw red magic light up around her fingers and you clutched the bag of cut apples closer to you, knowing what she would try. “What if I--”

“Nope.”

Simmons’ exam ended shortly after that, and the SHIELD agents returned to escort you to your next destination, which the scientists had referred to holding. It was a stark white room, the walls made up of the same material your original containment cell had been made of, but this room was warmly lit, with a real bed, couches, a desk, and even a television screen. There were clean clothes laid out on the bed, grey sweatpants, socks, and a grey SHIELD sweatshirt, heavier than you expected. Warmer. There was a bathroom, too, already stocked with tiny soaps and shampoos, and you finally got to scrub the blood and soot off of yourself, turning the water as hot as possible and watching the grit run down the drain.

“Better?” Wanda asked, when you got out of the shower, examining the sweatshirt you had changed into. “You look better.”

You nodded, flopping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, just as the door opened again, and Wanda stood up from the couch to see who was there. “Hey, how are you?” Phil Coulson asked, stepping through the doorway, tablet in hand. You looked at Wanda, who gestured back to Coulson.

“He asked you, not me.”

“Tired,” you said. “Um... but all right.”

“I’ll take that as a good thing,” Phil said sitting down on the couch. He turned to Wanda. “Natasha dropped some things off for you if you want to grab them and clean up as well.”

You realized that Wanda still had blood, your blood, under her fingernails, and that she had been there the entire time you had. Did she not even leave this place once? When Wanda did step out, you sat on the edge of the bed, eying Coulson, still trying to figure him out. Is this someone I can trust?

“This won’t be too long,” he said. “I’m going to let you rest. I just wanted to talk with you a little more. Is that all right?” When you didn’t respond, he went ahead, glancing down at something on the tablet. “So, Simmons mentioned something in her notes here about your temperature readings. I’m assuming that has something to do with your abilities? Can you walk me though that?”

You paused, staring at your hands. “Um. They said I run hot. I heat things up with my hands... usually.... but sometimes without even touching them.”

“Is that how the fire started?” he asked softly, and you nodded.

“I didn’t want that to happen,” you said. “No one was supposed to be there.”

“I know you didn’t,” Coulson said, and you blinked, surprised. “Powers can be unpredictable. Scary, if you’re new to them, or if you were never trained.”

“I was trained to burn things,” you said. You remembered the trials, trial after trial, leaving you colder and weaker each time, unable to stop shivering, curled up against the glass wall of your cell, where a heat from the lab had warmed the glass enough for you to sleep.

“Wanda told me,” Coulson said. “I’m sorry for what you went through there.” He took another read through of his notes. “We’re going to bring someone else in to do a psych eval tomorrow morning. He’s one of the best, even helped our own. I think you’ll benefit from talking to him. And we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You nodded once, and Coulson stood back up, adjusting his suit as he looked around the room. “Get some rest for tonight. Simmons might be by a few times to check on you, and if you need anything in the meantime--” he pointed at a button under the screen “--call button is right there.” Just as he prepared to leave, the door unlocked and opened again, Wanda stepping back in, having cleaned up and changed herself, dropping a duffle bag by the door. She and Coulson nodded at each other as he left, the lights in the room dimming in his wake, something more suitable for sleeping.

You leaned back on the bed, sinking into the pillows, though the constant undercurrent of anxiety prevented you from relaxing completely. “Can you stay?” you mumbled, not daring to ask the question any louder, afraid of the answer. “Just until I fall asleep.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, too,” Wanda said, crossing the room and sitting down on the other side of the bed. “Okay?” You had pulled her shawl over yourself again and she reached over to tuck it tighter around you, you pulling away for a moment.

Oh.

It was love. All of it, all around you, you realized, was love. Something you had been certain you didn’t deserve, especially in places when there was so little to go around, acts of kindness existing only in mercy. 

Wanda paused, waiting for you, as your heart beat a little faster. It was too much, sometimes, overwhelming to think about, these people with so much love to give, relentless until you were ready to accept that perhaps you deserved some peace after all. Not despite your past, but because of it.

Finally, you laid back down on the bed, leaning into her, tucking yourself in close to her warmth, sighing as a burden was lifted off of you. “There you are,” Wanda said, her hand rubbing your back as she pulled you in closer, and this time, you didn’t feel like you had to escape. It was okay. You were okay.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shutting your eyes, already drifting off.

Wanda planted a kiss on your forehead and you smiled in response, the first smile she had seen in a long time from you. It was safe to sleep here. There was enough warmth to go around. Your head rested in the crook between her arm and her chest as she laid back as well, her hoping maybe you finally would sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

“I’ll be right here in the morning,” she repeated again, the last thing you heard before you finally rested, finally okay at last.

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (3/3)

Summary: All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I had such a fun time writing this trope-filled, ridiculous story, and you all have made it better with your excitement over it! I was not expecting that at all, and it’s been a fun ride! I hope you enjoy this last chapter! 🎄❤️

Ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

Oh my God.

Like, oh my freaking God.

Emma groans. Or at least she thinks she does. She can’t hear much of anything over the pounding of her heart and the hissing steam coming out of her ears like an angry animated character.

Seriously, Mom. Seriously. What the hell?

“No,” Emma manages to say, pulling back from Killian. She snatches her hands away from his chest and moves her lips from his mouth, but the bastard still has his hand planted on her ass, keeping her pressed against him on the kitchen table.

Oh shit. She was just about to sleep with Killian on the kitchen table where she did her homework growing up, where she has breakfast with her family.

She was just about to sleep with Killian.

What the hell is wrong with her? Did she take medication she’s not aware of because this is...this is definitely not her.

(Or it is, but she doesn’t want to admit it.)

“Yes,” Killian mutters seconds after her. “Yes, you were.”

She gapes at him and then slaps his chest, and he glances away from her mom to look at her, eyebrows raised and slightly swollen lips smirking at him. It makes her realize her face is sensitive from the scratch of his beard, and she reaches up to touch her mouth.

What is she doing? What has she done?

Emma shakes her head. “What are you doing down here? You and Dad went to bed.”

“Um,” her mom hums, switching her feet, “I was going to get some water, but I don’t need it now. I’ll go back to bed and see you two in the morning. Happy Christmas Eve, Emma. Killian. Goodnight.”

“Happy Christmas Eve, ma’am,” Killian says back. Emma doesn’t think she can speak anymore, especially when Killian’s hand is still on her ass.

Emma was buzzing earlier tonight. That is long gone.

She watches as her mom walks away, the old stairs giving away her movements, and even when all the noise begins to disappear, Emma finds her feet planted in the same place they were. That has to stop.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, pulling back from Killian enough that they’re separated. “Oh my God. What the hell?”

Emma starts pacing, her hands tugging on her hair, and she really, really wants to scream at the top of her lungs right now despite knowing that would be a bad idea. The last thing she needs is her dad waking up and coming downstairs to find her in the state she’s in. The state Killian’s in too. His pants are ridiculously tight, and they don’t hide much.

Holy crap, she did that.

“Emma, love,” Killian begins, and she does a horrible job at ignoring how destroyed his voice sounds, “that was – ”

Emma spins around to look at him. “A one-time thing,” she finishes. “We can’t do that again. We’re tipsy, we’re not thinking straight. We just need…what we need is to get ready for bed and sleep it off. Tomorrow is Christmas, and then we’ll be going home early the next day. They’ll be no more of this idiotic putting on a show for my parents, and we’ll get back to thinking like rational people. Agreed?”

He looks down before looking at her. “Aye, agreed.” Killian stands from the table and brushes past her. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a cold and bracing shower. Feel free to finish making your hot cocoa.”

He walks out of the room, and Emma is left in the kitchen staring at everything spread out across the counter and the now-cooled milk sitting in the pan on the stove. Her body is still on edge, desire a permanent fixture deep in her belly, but she refuses to think about any of that. She had her little moment of fun, and now it’s gone. She’s back to just trying to survive this time at home before she gets to go back to Boston and try to survive her time there as well.

What an awesome recurring theme for her life.

Emma puts away all the hot chocolate ingredients, pouring the milk down the drain and rinsing off the pan before she turns off all the lights downstairs and walks upstairs. Killian is in the bathroom, so she strips out of her dress in her room and quickly changes into some pajamas she bought today on their way to the play. That dress was freezing last night, and she needed something that covered a lot more of her skin since she still hasn’t managed to get around to washing her clothes.

She’s so glad she did that now.

She makes do with makeup remover wipes, hoping her skin forgives her for one night of not washing her face, and she does the same with her toothpaste, rubbing it on her teeth with her finger. She could wait until Killian gets out of the shower, but since she knows exactly what he’s doing in there, she’d rather just deal with the cards she’s been dealt and go to bed. That way she doesn’t have to see him or talk to him for the rest of the night. It’ll be better that way. There will be fewer opportunities for her to mess everything up.

Emma turns her ceiling fan off, hating the way it creaks when it spins, and gets under the covers, pulling them up and basking in how warm her bed is. She needs to invest in one of these mattress heaters back in Boston because damn, this is great.

She’s comfortable, tired, still a little tipsy despite her mom’s interruption sobering her, and on any other night, she’d easily be able to fall asleep. Tonight, her mind has decided to run a marathon in record-setting time.

Seriously. What’s wrong with her? Why would she do this? Why is she always making dumb decisions like this? It’s got to be a medical condition at this point, and whatever pills she needs to go on to make it stop, Emma is willing to sign up.

Why would she kiss Killian?

He was the one who started it, sure. She was going to make them hot chocolate even if it was her third mug of the day, and they were probably just going to chill on the couch and find a movie to watch like they’d been doing most of the day. Then Killian came up to her and pressed up against her. He was so warm and smelled fantastic, and when he ran his nose against her ear, Emma could have melted.

She doesn’t melt over guys. Nope. She is not that type of girl. She is not freaking Frosty the Snowman.

It’s a physical attraction. That must be it. She knows he’s hot, she knows he thinks she’s hot, and it’s not something they’ve necessarily denied all this time. There are always jokes and little looks and a hell of a lot of teasing moments, but it’s never been anything deeper than that.

More importantly, they’ve never acted on any of it.

Tonight was just a blip on the radar, the one-time thing like she said, and when they get home, everything will be normal. This week and all of its weirdness will be forgotten. If not, she’s going to have to go sleep on Ruby and Dorothy’s couch.

The bedroom door slides open, a sliver of light from the hallway coming in with Killian, and Emma closes her eyes. She tries not to move, to fall asleep, but she’s aware of every one of Killian’s steps as he closes the door behind him and gets into the bed. He shifts a little, but other than that, he stays far enough away that she can barely feel the heat of his body.

Good. He can stay far away, and Emma can get a peaceful night’s sleep.

-/-

Emma doesn’t get a peaceful night’s sleep.

Not even close.

She never really drifts off. Instead, it’s this constant almost. She almost falls asleep all night long, but instead of blacking out into darkness, she lives in this state of dark gray. So close but so far away from what she wants.

They made a mistake. That’s all that happened, and Emma has to live with that. It won’t be nearly this awkward when she and Killian go back home. Then they’ll have their own rooms, and more importantly, their own beds. This will all be some distant, funky little memory. Emma can act like it’s all fine and normal for the next twenty-four hours.

She’s been acting like things are normal with her parents for years. She can do the same thing with Killian Jones.

Emma sighs and flips over. Killian is still on his back, his chest rising and falling slowly, and she’s jealous he can sleep so peacefully. She’s jealous that his mind isn’t running and freaking out over everything. He probably got everything he wanted out of her and is moving on fine.

That’s the attitude she should have.

Emma flips again, grabbing her phone off the nightstand. It’s five in the morning, and usually, she’s not allowed downstairs this early on Christmas morning. But she’s twenty-eight. It’s not like she believes a magical old man is climbing down the chimney leaving presents anymore.

Quietly, Emma gets out of bed and takes her phone with her. She walks downstairs and makes a beeline for the coffee maker. It takes far longer than it should to be ready, but eventually it’s ready. Her dad will make them a big breakfast this morning like he has most mornings she’s been here, so Emma doesn’t bother fixing herself food. She shivers at the thought of having to eat at the table and be able to keep a normal conversation with her parents. Ignoring that awful thought, she moves to the living room with her coffee and turns on the TV.

Emma is unsure of what exactly she’s watching for the next several hours but in the darkness of the morning with the Christmas tree glowing next to her, it’s enough to make her forget everything until her parents come walking down the stairs and the dark thoughts rear their ugly heads.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” David greets at the same time Mary Margaret says, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Emma returns with a smile.

“Where’s Killian?”

“Still asleep.”

“Why don’t you go wake him?” her dad asks. “I could use a hand cooking breakfast.”

“I think I’ll let him sleep for a little bit more, but I’ll get him before you start cooking the eggs, okay?”

David leans down over her and kisses the crown of her head. “Sounds perfect.”’

The movie on the television ends, the credits quickly rolling before another one starts. She doesn’t recognize it and knows it’s probably not any good, but she watches it anyway. When she was a kid, Christmas morning was so different. She’d wait at the top of the stairs and then rush down them when she was allowed to see what Santa left under the tree. It was like real-world magic.

When did Emma lose that sense of wonder?

The stairs groan behind her, and Emma turns to see Killian walking down them, hair and t-shirt rumpled. He got the memo on not bothering to do anything with his appearance, apparently.

Suddenly, she’s thankful to have her mother here as a buffer. He won’t try to talk to her about last night when they’re still faking it in front of her parents. For the first time this entire trip, she hopes her mom never leaves to go sit in another room and talk on the phone with one of her friends.

“Morning, darling,” Killian whispers when he walks up to her. Emma cranes her neck back, putting on the show for her mom, but she nearly jumps when he leans down and lightly presses his lips over hers. They haven’t been doing that. It’s strictly been cheek or forehead. Bastard. “Happy Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you. I think Dad wanted you to help him cook breakfast. Are you up for that?”

He smiles. “I knew I’d grow on Dave. I’d love to help. You just stay on your ass and watch TV, being the most unhelpful person in this house.”

“Watch it, Jones.”

Killian’s brows dance across his forehead, and he teasingly grabs onto her earlobe before walking into the kitchen. Emma shakes her head and smiles as she brings her coffee mug to her lips.

“I’m so glad you’ve found Killian,” her mom sighs from her spot on the other end of the couch. “It’s good to see you happy now that you’ve found him. You’ve been so miserable lately.”

You have got to be kidding me, Emma thinks, her knuckles going white around her mug. She tries to take a few deep breaths, to calm herself down, but it’s been year after year of this same damn conversation without her mom listening.

Sometimes Emma thinks she’s shouting from the rooftop of an abandoned building with only empty rooms around to hear her.

If a woman yells in a forest and no one is around to hear her, does she really make a sound?

“I’m so sick of this, Mom,” Emma sighs, placing her mug down on the coffee table and bringing her knees to her chest. “I love you. I do. And most of the time I can understand where you’re coming from, but I was happy before I found Killian. Not totally, but I was happy. And you never seem to get that. You think I have to be in a relationship to have self-worth. God, is that why you’re still so friendly with Neal? I can’t think of any other reason other than you feel like I need to be with someone.”

“He’s a good man, sweetie. He was your first love. He’s – ”

“He’s not a good man!” Emma slaps her hands against her shin. “He broke my heart and ruined my life! He made me not pursue a stable future because he convinced me he knew what was best for me and then left me with nothing in the middle of the night. That isn’t a good man. That’s the opposite of a good man. If you had ever bothered to ask me why we broke up instead of immediately assuming I did something wrong, maybe you’d know that instead of inviting him into our house and acting like everything is fine.”

It feels damn to get all of that out even if Emma knows she’s about to send her mother into a tailspin.

That’s years of pent-up resentment and anger, or at least the beginning of it, and it’s…it’s, well, cathartic, even if it’s only the beginning.

“But he was - ”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma laughs, and she hopes the fan in the kitchen is loud enough that her dad and Killian don’t hear, “if you say he was my first love, I will leave this house right now and never come back. I get that you and Dad worked out, but that’s because you’re good for each other. I can guarantee Dad never abandoned you in the middle of the night, and I can especially guarantee that he didn’t pretty much emotionally abuse you for years of your relationship. Do you know what it’s like to have the one person in the world you love most basically tell you that you’re nothing? I’m not nothing. I was never nothing, but Neal could never see that.”

Emma hasn’t thought about her relationship with Neal in years. It’s something she pushes back and hopes to never have to deal with, and yet, here she is digging it all up because her mom made a comment Emma couldn’t let go.

Merry Christmas to us all.

“Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Emma shrugs and looks into the living room where Killian and her dad are standing side by side cooking. She’s pretty sure her dad is about to try to poison Killian or stab him with a kitchen knife, but that’s a problem for another time. “But you should have. You should have when I called you crying, you should have when I told you I wanted to change my name because I felt like it could be a fresh start as my own person with no one holding me back. Instead you demonized me and put Neal up on a pedestal that you’re still putting him on. He’s engaged, Mom. I’m with - well, like you said, I’m with Killian. And even if neither of those things were true, you should be able to listen to me enough to know that being with him has never been good for me. So, please, God, just let me live with my life. I’m never going to be you. I’m never going to be perfect.”

Her mom wipes underneath her eyes, and Emma now feels like the shittiest person in the world for making her mom cry before eight on Christmas morning. How can she be so pissed off and sympathetic all at once?

“I am obviously not perfect,” Mary Margaret sniffles. “You’re my only daughter, and I apparently haven’t known you at all despite trying. I just can’t believe you changed your name. Was that really necessary? I - ”

“Nope.” Emma holds her hand up and stands from her chair. “I’m not having this conversation again. Maybe at another time we can hash all of our shit out, but I really don’t feel like doing it right now. I can’t get into that with you again.”

Emma picks her mug up from the coffee table and walks into the kitchen where Killian is moving a plate of her dad’s pancakes to the table.

“Mmm,” Emma sighs, “something smells delicious.”

Killian nearly drops the plate to the floor, but he saves it at the last minute. It’s not until he looks at Emma with raised brows and a million forehead lines that she realizes what she’s said.

Yeah, nearly having sex on her parents’ kitchen table goes high up on the list of Emma’s worst ideas.

“Everything alright with you, love?” Killian asks. He brushes his hands on his pants and then walks toward her, dipping his head down until he’s eyelevel. It’s unfair how blue his eyes are.

It’s unfair how much she notices stuff like that now.

“Yeah,” Emma lies while her heart races, “everything is just fine.”

-/-

Nothing about any of this is fine.

She shared too much with her mom, and even with it all out in the open, Emma doesn’t think she’ll ever be understood here. They were so blind to so much. One conversation can’t open the floodgates to knowing it all because they’ll never really understand the hell she went through, and now instead of being at peace with it, all Emma wants to do is pick fights with her parents

Like a totally rational adult woman.

So that’s not fine. What’s also not fine is the way Killian is sitting pressed up against her on the loveseat as they open presents. It’s too close, and it’s too much to watch him open presents from her parents that are genuinely thoughtful despite them only knowing each other for three days.

It’s all too much, and she is ready to get home, sleep in her own bed, and go back to the monotony of her life.

Because there she doesn’t have to think about any of this. It’s out of sight and out of mind, just the way she likes it.

They eat breakfast leftovers for lunch and dinner, and slowly but surely, the day fades away, the lights on the tree dimming a bit the closer to midnight it gets. Her parents leave to meet some of their friends for a drink, and she and Killian stay in the house, still lounging on the couch in their pajamas barely saying a word to each other. All day they’ve been having to play up their relationship, more than they have been, and she’s exhausted from it. At one point she wanted to let the truth fly, but she’s not evil enough to hurt her parents more than she already has.

She also doesn’t have the energy to get into another fight.

“You okay, Swan? You’ve seemed a little down today.”

Or maybe she does.

“Fine,” she mutters, pulling her blanket higher up her chest.

“Are you sure?” Killian prods. “Because we haven’t talked about last night, and I heard a bit of your conversation with your mom this morning. It’s perfectly alright not to always get along with family. It’s complicated. I understand that.”

Emma blows air out of her nose and turns away from Killian to watch the TV. “Please. You’ve got peanuts compared to the full-blown circus I have.”

It takes Emma approximately two seconds to realize that she has, to put it gently, fucked up.

Killian rises from his side of the couch and brushes his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands until they fall in his face. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, defeated. “I am never going to dismiss how you struggle with your parents because it obviously affects you, but you do not get to sit there and say shit like that to me when I am only here with you because my family is all dead. I would give anything to have my loved ones here to fight with because at least then there would be the possibility of repair.”

He shakes her head and clicks his tongue before running it over his bottom lip. “Happy Christmas, Swan. I’m going to bed. We still set to leave at nine tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. Killian, I’m - ”

“Don’t bother. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

He walks up the stairs, and Emma falls back onto the couch. The new year is a week away, but she’s already asshole of the year.

Way to go, Emma.

How the hell is she supposed to fix this?

Emma pours herself another glass of wine and falls asleep on the couch after an hour of beating herself up about her general shittiness as a person. She only wakes when her parents come in and there’s a gentle push at her shoulder.

“Emma,” her mom whispers, “Emma, come on. You’ll hurt your neck if you sleep down here.”

Emma opens her eyes and groggily stands as her mom hovers over her. She’s still half-asleep as she hobbles out of the room, her mom following behind her up the stairs, and before Emma closes her bedroom door, she pokes her head out to look at her mom.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Mary Margaret smiles, but it’s a little sad. Emma’s got no clue how to fix what’s between them, and she knows it’s not all on her to fix. At one point they were so close, and for so long this distance has been because Emma has refused to extend the olive branch and refused to be honest.

But also because her mom refused to see a lot of reality.

At least they’re both still here and have the opportunity to heal what’s been broken.

“I love you, too, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers. “It’s been so nice having you home.”

She doesn’t say it, but despite all of the crazy things that have happened in the past few days, it’s nice to be home and to have someone care about her by making sure her neck doesn’t hurt from sleeping on the couch or by fixing her breakfast in the morning.

By pretending to be her boyfriend so she didn’t have to deal with an ex.

Emma nods and steps into her room. She’s as quiet as possible when getting into bed, and she doesn’t even say anything when she notices Killian is more on her side of the bed than his. Instead, she slips into that small space and hopes she can be forgiven too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers before closing her eyes.

-/-

She’s half asleep in the morning when she first feels Killian move. They’ve done a pretty good job in staying in their own space while sleeping, but considering where he was when Emma got into bed last night, Emma wasn’t holding high expectations for this morning.

Not that she really thought about it.

But there’s definitely a hand on her boob and a half-erect dick pressed into the crevice of her ass, and as much as she doesn’t mind the feeling, she’s thankful when Killian moves, leaving her to the chill of an empty bed as he leaves the room to do who knows what outside.

-/-

What he does is shovel snow with her dad, help her mom with some last-minute tips on the renovation of their barn out back, and pack up their bags for the drive home. He’s cordial and affectionate as she says goodbye to her parents, promising to video chat with them more often so they can talk more, which Emma is simultaneously dreading and looking forward to, kind of like this ride home.

-/-

The drive back to Boston happens in almost complete silence, and if Emma didn’t have the radio to keep her company, she’d scream because the silence is so damn loud.

-/-

It’s the new year now.

Has been for about a week or so, and Emma spent the holiday out with Ruby and Dorothy and all of their friends. She wore a sparkly, slightly slutty dress that had her freezing all night long, but everything about it felt wrong.

Everything about everything feels wrong.

Well, that’s not true. For the first time in a long time, when she talks to her parents, it feels like they actually listen instead of projecting their own hopes and dreams to her. They see her as a person with feelings and failure instead of an idealized daughter who fits into their little, perfect box. She has to talk about shit she doesn’t want to talk about more often than not, but Killian’s words keep ringing in her head.

At least she has family around to fight with and to have those hard conversations with.

Killian isn’t around the apartment much. He comes in and out to eat and sleep, but ever since the car ride from hell, he’s been scarce. She’s tried to find time to see him, to apologize for being a dick and for all of Christmas as a whole, but that’s hard to do when she lives with the invisible man.

That’s hard to do when she has trouble admitting she was in the wrong.

It’s even harder when she has trouble admitting to herself that she has feelings for Killian Jones that far surpass just roommate feelings. Emma doesn’t know when the hell that happened or what to do with it, but it makes every night that she can’t talk to him torture.

How is it that she always screws everything up? And how does she go about fixing broken things when she’s still holding the hammer that broke the glass?

Maybe all she needs is an opportunity to talk to Killian where she can’t run away.

Yeah, all she needs is to just see him.

-/-

Why is he at this bar right now?

Okay, the real question is why is she at this bar right now? She had a hellish day at work, and all she wanted was to sleep. That’s all she wants to do lately, mostly because it means she doesn’t have to share the common area with Killian. If she’s sleeping, she doesn’t have to see anything, and everything is much, much better.

Or much, much worse, but Emma is trying not to think about that.

She’s trying not to think about Killian at all, which is decidedly not working out well when she thinks about him at least thirty-seven times a day. Thirty-eight now that he’s standing at the other side of cozying up to the most gorgeous woman Emma has ever seen. She’s tall and tan and has legs that go on for days. She looks like Ruby, and while Emma doesn’t know her, she seriously does not like her.

Because she’s lost her mind and has developed fucking feelings when she hasn’t wanted to do that, especially with someone she can’t get away from.

“Hey.” Ruby nudges her shoulder into Emma’s. “Why do you look like you want to punch someone? Am I that someone? Please don’t mess up my face. My makeup looks fantastic today.”

“Is that the only thing you’re concerned about?”

“Look at me. Doesn’t it look great?”

Emma rolls her eyes and sips on her wine. “You look great. Is that why you dragged me out here?”

“No, it was because you’ve been moping ever since you came home from Storybrooke. I know your relationship with your parents isn’t the best, but it’s not bad enough to have you grouchy for two weeks.”

How much would it be for Emma to drink the entire bottle of wine?

“I mean, it sucked, but I feel much better about my parents than I have in a long time. It’s more...I don’t - it’s - ”

“Killian Jones.”

“How did you know that?” Emma looks at Ruby, but she’s looking over Emma’s shoulder and toward where Killian was standing.

Ruby shakes her head. “Huh, no, I didn’t. That’s Killian standing over there. Wait.” Her red lips part. “What happened with you and Killian? Oh my God, did you fuck Killian when he went home with you?”

“Quiet,” Emma hisses, as if Killian could hear her over the music and the yards of distance between them. “No, I didn’t fuck him. I mean, I almost did, but my mom walked in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ruby gets in Emma’s face, and Emma really wishes Dorothy would show up and distract Ruby. “I need details.”

“That’s all there is to know.” Emma tips her glass to her lips, but there’s nothing left. Dammit. “We’d had a little to drink, and it...happened. Nothing else to tell.”

Ruby arches her brow. “So that’s why you’re not talking to him but staring him down and wishing you could pull that girl’s hair out?”

“I’m not doing either of those things.”

“Emma Swan is a li-aaaaar.” Ruby raises her hands and yells across the bar. “Hey, Jones!”

“Ruby Lucas is de-aaad,” Emma sing-songs back before straightening her back and sitting as tall as she can. To get the best leverage to kill Ruby, of course, not to make her boobs look good in this sweater.

“Hello, Ruby, Swan,” Killian greets. The woman who was hanging onto his arm is gone now, but Emma is sure she’ll see her back at their apartment later. “You both look lovely tonight.”

“Same to you, handsome.” Emma rolls her eyes as Ruby drags her finger down Killian’s button-down. It, of course, despite the cold temperature, is half-buttoned. “So, Emma hasn’t said it, but you two need to talk and get over whatever tiff you’re in. Whatever Emma did, she’s sorry, and she really wants to make out with you again.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Emma mouths to Ruby as she slides her forefinger across her throat. “Seriously.”

“Love you,” Ruby says, blowing Emma a kiss and walking across the bar to where Dorothy just walked in. Now the woman decides to show up. Of course. Why couldn’t she have been here two minutes earlier?

In a perfect world, Killian would laugh Ruby off and walk away, but this is not and has never been a perfect world. Hard conversations aren’t avoidable. Instead, they come at you like a freight train with no breaks. You either crash or jump on. Emma is wondering if she can simply jump off the tracks.

“Swan,” Killian starts, but Emma decides she’s going to jump off the tracks. She doesn’t want to do this. She grabs her coat and heads out the door, pushing past Ruby and Dorothy on her way out. This will cause ripples in her relationship with Killian no matter what. She can’t imagine he’ll want to stay living with the woman who was an ass to him and dismissed his brother’s death because she was so caught up in her own issues.

Seriously. Asshole of the Year. It’s officially official now.

It’s stopped snowing in the hour since she entered the bar, and instead of a fresh white coat, the ground is covered in slush that’s been walked over hundreds of times, footprints burying down to show the sidewalk. It’s wet and disgusting, and Emma tugs on her coat as she flees to keep her from getting hypothermia or some other awful disease.

There’s a tug on her hands, and suddenly she’s being pulled backward. She braces herself for a fight, but when she sees it’s Killian, she braces for another kind of fight.

He arches his brow. “What? You going to make a man drink alone in there?”

“I’m not in the mood for a drink. Or a man. Besides, it seems like you already had company with that freakishly long-legged woman who was desperate to make out with you.”

Emma knows that’s mean. She wishes she had legs like that woman, and she wishes she were the one who could hang out at a bar and flirt with Killian like that.

She really messed up there before things could begin.

“Why, Swan? You jealous?”

Emma scoffs and turns away from him. “Like I’ve said, in your dreams.”

Killian drops her hand and moves into her space. He’s always doing that. Personal boundaries are nothing to him. “Aye, quite often.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you dream of the girl who was rude to you and can’t seem to apologize and makes you chase her out of bars even though you live together and could just talk at home. But I imagine you’ll have what’s-her-name there, so I don’t think that’ll be a great time for me to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Love,” he teases, moving his brows and absolutely smirking, “I’m not angry with you over what happened on Christmas, not anymore, and while I’d like to talk about that later, I’d really rather talk about how jealous you are thinking of the possibility of me kissing Victoria in there.”

What a cocky jerk.

Seriously. Who thinks that highly of themselves just to say something so arrogant?

“You can kiss or not kiss whoever you damn well - ”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Killian surges forward and presses his mouth against hers, not letting her speak or think or breathe as he kisses her.

And kisses her well, she might add.

Okay, well, that was unexpected.

Like, seriously unexpected. She thought he was about to tell her to go screw herself and find a new roommate because honestly, that’s what Emma would do if she had to live with someone who is as messy as she is.

It’s a lot to deal with, and her heart is still racing from their argument and her being on the verge of a meltdown, but much like the slippery, gross snow underneath her feet, she melts into the kiss (okay, so maybe she is one of those girls who melts like Frosty-the-freaking-Snowman), wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands come to rest just above her ass, tugging her further into him. This feels different than that first kiss, softer, slower, and maybe something else she just can’t place.

Right now, she doesn’t care to search for that word when for the first time in a long time, her life feels right.

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” Emma laughs against his lips.

“Did it work?”

Emma quickly glides her lips over his. “Maybe.”

“Good.” Killian presses his forehead against hers, and not to be Hallmark-level cheesy, but she has that thought again about something just feeling right. Terrifying but right. “And Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s fucking freezing out here. Do you want to go back to our place and have what I can only hope is some amazing make-up sex?”

“Can you have make-up sex if you’ve never slept together before?”

Killian pulls back and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in until he kisses her temple. “We could find out. Or we could go home and see what’s on Netflix, eat some of your leftover Halloween candy.”

“Oh, bud,” Emma laughs, patting his chest and tilting her head to look up at him, “I stress ate that the day we got home from my parents’. But don’t worry, I bought some more last week.”

“I know,” Killian whispers, “I ate some of it when I was still pissed at you.”

Fair. she deserves that. She deserves much more than that, and she expects at some point, she and Killian will have it out like they deserve. She doesn’t get to just skip over the bad and into the field of lush flowers no matter how much it seems like that right now.

But at least there are flowers on the horizon.

“Was it the milk chocolate that made it all better?”

“Aye, it was.”

Emma drops her shoulders, and if she weren’t so sure she was awake, she would swear this was all a dream or part of her imagination from the emotional whiplash she’s experiencing.

“I guess I’ll have to find a new place to hide the candy then.”

“Oh, love, I’ll always find it.”

-/-

(PS: You can have make-up sex even if you’ve never had sex with that person before.)

(Emma and Killian were quick to test that theory out.)

(And eat the chocolate.)

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @lu123sworld​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @marrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @elizabeethan​ @jrob64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @inth-trees​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @captain-emmajones​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @capthamm​ @donteattheappleshook​ @eleveneitherway​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

‘Round Here

Drabble, one shot? Who knows!

"Reader is chased down after crossing the wrong biker.” + Bucky! as requested by anonymous

"Reader walks into the wrong bar." + Bucky as requested by 👀 @navybrat817​

Warning: noncon sex, fingering, unedited.

“Are you serious?” You asked Maddie as you looked around the smoky bar.

The cloud of cigarette smoke was your first hint that this was a dive. Actually, your second as Maddie always managed to find the scummiest places. It truly was a gift. Not an enviable, but nonetheless, a skill.

You sat at a table for two and tried to ignore the leers from the table next to you. You regretted wearing a skirt already. A particularly greasy looking man with a beard to his belly button grumbled something lewd into his beer. You were thankful you hadn’t understood his words, though his tone made his intent clear.

“What do you want?” The terse waitress chewed gum as she approached you with hand on hip. Her leather vest covered a fringed crop top and her skirt was barely longer than that.

“You got tequila?” Maddie asked.

“It’s a bar,” The waitress rolled her eyes and popped her gum.

“No tequila,” You argued with Maddie.

“We’ll have two shots of tequila alongside two rye and gins,” She ignored you and tossed back her curly hair.

“Fine,” The waitress shrugged. “We ain’t got any limes left.”

“Amazing,” Maddie said dryly and smiled at the waitress. You were left with haughty glare and huff.

“I don’t think this is the place to harass the staff, Mads,” You looked around nervously.

“Oh, bleh. You know, my dad used to hang out in places like this.” She trilled. “It was fun. My uncle was even part of the club.” She lowered her voice and leaned over the table. “They don’t like being called a gang.”

“Well, Maddie, I think as a kid you might not have seen the whole picture,” You uttered. “You told me we were going dancing.”

“We dance here,” She paused and listened to the dingy classic rock and bobbed her head. “Yeah, sing it Axel.”

“This is Van Halen, you weirdo,” You hissed.

The waitress returned and set down your drink, paying no heed to the way the spilled over the rim with her force. Maddie offered her a card and was greeted with another sigh. The waitress marched away and returned shortly with the receipt and the card. She flicked it onto the table and took off to the next.

“Alright, if none of these goons kill us, she definitely will,” You shook your head.

Maddie pushed a shot toward you and took hers with a devious smile.

“Have a little fun for once in your life,” She chimed. “Jesus.”

“Fun? Maddie your fun isn’t fun. It’s scary.”

“On three,” She raised her shot. “One, two, three.”

You knocked it back and coughed as you slammed it back down. You hated tequila, not least because of the taste. The last time you had a taste, you remember the inhumanly lean which had you using a chair to stand.

“Mmm,” She looked around for the waitress.

“No more,” You slid one of the rye drinks in front of her. “You got another drink to nurse. I mean it, take it easy. I don’t wanna carry you out of here.”

“Boo,” She took her glass and drank half in a gulp. “Look at all these strong men, they’ll help.”

“You don’t want their help,” You sputtered. “Mads, I mean it. After this drink, we’re finding somewhere else.”

You brought your glass to your lips, irritated, and peered around the bar with a scowl. As much as you worried for your safety, and especially Maddie’s given her lack of a filter, you were tempted to give her a good smack yourself. 

Why did you even trust her anymore? You recalled very clearly her squatting in an alley only a month ago, pissing on the pavement as you tried to figure out where exactly you were. Fun.

You stopped as your gaze met another’s. You blinked and averted your eyes as you lowered your glass. You glanced over your shoulder, foolishly. There was only a wall there. You look at Maddie and smiled nervously.

“Oh man,” She shifted in her seat. “Wish I hadn’t downed that vodka before.”

“What?” You huffed. “Maddie, how much have you had tonight?”

“I dunno but, whew,” She slapped the table. Her glass was empty. “It’s time to break the seal.”

“Wait, I’m almost done, we can go--”

“Nope, too late,” She stood. “I mean it, if I don’t find the bathroom, I’m gonna piss on this chair.”

“Maddie, you always were so eloquent,” You snipped. “Just hurry up.”

She winked and walked away clumsily. She flagged down the grouchy waitress and was pointed towards a doorway on the other side of the bar. You glanced around and again, found the same set of eyes watching you; deep, blue sapphires. You looked down and grabbed your purse. You slipped out your phone and unlocked it.

You pretended to be interested in it as you hugged your purse to you. You just wanted to go. Now.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” The voice had you rigid and your head snapped up as your fingers tightened around your phone. “You need a refill.”

“No, I’m not done,” You grimaced and tapped your glass. “Thank you though. My friend is just--”

“Ah, don’t worry,” He turned to the table next to you and snapped at a man in a skullcap. The man stood and spun his chair to offer to the man. The stranger sat and shuffled the chair closer. “Name’s Bucky.”

You stared at him. You glanced over at the doorway Maddie had disappeared through and swallowed. You gave your name without looking at him and instead checked the time on your phone. You chewed your lip.

“Actually, you know, me and my friend have a reservation.” You said as you rose. “I’ll just go check on her.”

“She didn’t seem in such a hurry.” He stood and blocked you. “What’s the matter? You don’t like me?”

“It’s not-- Look, I’m just… gonna…” You skirted around the table and flitted past him. “I gotta make sure she’s okay.”

You felt him watching you as you wove around the tables, barely missing one with your hip. You ducked through the doorway and found your way to the ladies’. Inside, Maddie was sloppily lathering her hands up in soap.

“Hurry up,” You sneered. “Now. We’re going.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pooper,” She moped.

You reached and shoved her hands under the faucet. You tore a length of paper towel free from the dispenser and forced it into her grasp. You dried your hands and hers, like she was a child, and you pulled her out of the restroom.

You peeked into the barroom then further down the hall. You dragged Maddie down to the fire exit and angled her through into the back alley.

“What’s going on?” She giggled. “You’re acting weird.”

“Mads, look, we couldn’t stay there,” You hurried out to the sidewalk and turned down the street. “We can go wherever you want, drink as much as you want but we’re not staying there. Okay?”

“Fine, fine,” She wrenched her arm away from you. “Jesus, you sound like my mom.”

“Let’s go to Nova.” You coaxed. “Remember when we danced on the table!”

“Oooh,” Her eyes focused. “Okay, but this time you can’t ditch me.”

“I didn’t, you pushed me off,” You elbowed her. “Come on, I think it’s ladies’ night.”

☠

When you got to the club, it was already packed. Even so, Maddie pushed her way to the bar and forced another drink on you. You found a spot on the dance floor but it wasn’t long before she recognized someone else and you were joined by several other girls and even a few boys.

You danced and tried to forget the rocky start to the evening but still found yourself on edge. You set aside your empty cup and tried to get more into the old 90s tune. You spun, almost drunk enough to really get wild, and stopped dead, your arms falling to your sides. 

You squinted through the flashing lights. It was him. That man from the bar. Oh, fuck, he was heading right toward you. He seemed to march across the floor between the bodies, barely flinching as his shoulders were knocked by inebriated dancers. Only a few feet away as he smirked at you.

You turned and dove into the circle of Maddie’s friends. She was too tipsy to notice as she tried to twerk. You pushed past them and tripped as you barrelled into another dancer. You didn’t even apologize as you kept on and headed for the door. You kept low, unable to see if the man was following you through all the bodies.

You got to the back stairwell, marked staff only, that led from one floor to the next. The club had three levels; one for retro, one for modern hits, and the lower floor for rock. You slipped through the door and caught your breath on the other side. You didn’t stop for long as you stumbled down the steps on your chunky heels.

As you tripped and hit the wall, you heard the door open again. You pushed yourself straight and wobbled around the corner to the next flight. You peeked up as the man came into sight. So certain he barely rushed as he descended after you.

You scrambled down the next flight as he got closer. You felt your feet tangle and prepared to fly into the wall face first. He caught the back of your shirt before you could and his arm wrapped around your waist. He stepped down onto even ground behind you.

“Ah, we don’t want that pretty face gettin’ messed up,” He purred as the dull pulse of music came through the wall.

“What do you want?” You grabbed his hand as it crept lower on your stomach.

“I think you know, sweetheart,” He grabbed your hip and turned you around. He pushed you into the wall and pinned you with his other arm across your chest. “You come into my place and won’t even say hello.”

“What are you-- No, I--” 

“Shhhh,” He hushed as he leaned closer, his arm heavy against you as his other hand brushed over your skirt. “You don’t wear this,” His fingers curled under the hem along your thigh. “And not want attention.”

“Stop,” You tried to grab his hand as he ripped your skirt up. “Stop!”

“Go on and yell,” He chuckled. “You think anyone will hear you.”

“Someone will--”

“And what are they gonna do?” 

He shoved his hand against your crotch and kicked his foot between yours. He forced your legs apart and pressed his fingers to your panties. He rubbed you through the thin cotton and you felt as if your chest would collapse as his other arm kept you in place. 

He carefully drew your panties aside and ran his finger between your fold. You gasped and pushed on his shoulder.

“No,” You breathed. “Please--”

“Please,” He growled and added another finger, dragging them back and forth until he felt you slicken. “You don’t sound very convincing, sweetheart.”

He played with your clit and you bit into your lip. It felt good as your drunken wits slaked away easily. As your pleasure overwhelmed your fear. He continued to swirl his fingers around until your breath was thick and shallow.

He poked around your entrance and sank inside. You pushed your head back and moaned. He pulled his fingers in and out as your walls quivered around him. Your hand slipped down his shoulder and his own arm fell from your chest. 

He smoothly undid his fly and pushed his jeans open. He withdrew his fingers from your cunt and grabbed his swollen cock. He grabbed your leg and hiked it up against him as he leaned into you. He guided himself blindly over your fold and crushed your arms between your bodies.

He took you off your feet as he impaled you. You cried out and grasped the front of his leather jacket. Your lips formed an O as you stared into his darkened blue eyes. He thrust as he held your leg against him, rocking to the beat of the music. 

He lifted your other leg and had you propped up against the wall as he sped up. You freed your arms and stretched them across the painted concrete as he crashed into you over and over. You tried to hold in your pathetic whine as the heat of delight mixed with that of the alcohol that seared your stomach. Your eyes rolled back as you came, your purse smack against your side as this man held you at his mercy.

He hissed as his hips stuttered. His fingers pressed into your hips and he trembled. You opened your eyes as he pulled out suddenly and drew a hand back to stroke himself through his climax, his cum spurting onto the skirt bunched up around your waist.

He shuddered and grinned as he looked up at you. He slowly lowered you to your feet, your legs were like jelly. You stood straight, warily and he caught your arm. He spun you to face the concrete and pressed himself against your back as his voice gristled in your ear.

“You don’t really think we’re done here, do you?”

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 4

Author’s Note: Okay so I got a bit carried away with this chapter but I couldn’t help myself so it’s about twice as long as previous chapters. This is where things really start to get more plot based so the story will really get moving from here. The way I’ve planned out the plot so far though it’ll be several chapters long so get buckled up!

Warnings: mild cursing, suggestive language, Jack “Whiskey” Daniels needs his own warning

Length: 2,586 words

Not A Whiskey Drinker Masterlist

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

“She almost broke the man’s arm Champ!” said Whiskey, phone to his ear.

“I don’t care. If you’re exaggerating this skill of hers she’ll be a liability.”

“She won’t be a liability!” Whiskey was seething at this point. Yes it had only been a few days, but somehow he had become protective over you. Seeing you twist the man’s arm back at the bar lit a fire somewhere deep inside his stomach. Whiskey heard a sigh through the phone.

“Fine. You’re training her and she’ll be your responsibility. Don’t fuck it up Whiskey.”

With that Champagne hung up. Whiskey was buzzing with excitement. With the combination of your quick wit and your apparent hand to hand combat skill you were definitely capable of becoming an agent with the Statesmen.

The ding of the elevator stirred Whiskey from his thoughts. Strutting out of his office he quickly caught up to you.

“Whiskey.”

“Mornin’ Y/N. How’s my lovely little lady today?” you rolled your eyes and shook your head, continuing towards your office. Along with your normal bag you had also brought a tote bag that contained some office necessities. After setting your bags down you pulled out an electric tea kettle and made your way towards a shelf to find a spot for it.

“Y/N think fast!” came Whiskey’s voice as he threw the mug that sat on your desk. You quickly spun around and caught the mug before it could smash on the floor.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Not a coffee drinker either?” Whiskey said, eyeing the variety of teabags you pulled from your tote.

“Nope. Coffee is a slap in the face. Tea feels like a hug.”

Whiskey gave his standard full body laugh.

“You really are somethin’ darlin’.”

“Out.” you said, ushering him out of your space. “Come back if you need me.”

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re the boss and I’m the assistant.” Whiskey leaned against the door frame as he said this.

“Whiskey…” you said with a grumble, trying to push him from the door, but the man wasn’t budging. Bending down he whispered in your ear,

“I am a mighty fan of switching up the dynamic every once in a while.” he said and you could almost feel his smirk against your skin.

“Out!” and you shut the door on his face.

‘I swear to god this man will be the death of me.’

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

The rest of the day was fairly standard. Random errands Whiskey needed, picking up lunch, sorting through notes, etc. The only difference between today and the previous was the fact that Whiskey kept throwing things at you any chance he got.

“So I organized these files and highlight all the—“ Before you could finish your sentence you looked up as a pen, a baseball, and a full bottle of whiskey were flying at you. Quickly you caught them all and managed to keep the files you were holding in your hands as well.

“Whiskey what the fuck?”

Initially it felt like Whiskey’s standard teasing, but at this point it was ridiculous and was getting on your nerves. If you didn’t catch the whiskey bottle it would’ve made a huge mess and you were most likely the one who would have to clean said mess.

“Wouldn’t have thrown ‘em if I knew you weren’t gonna catch ‘em.” said Whiskey from behind his desk, propping his feet up on the wood and stretching his arms behind his head.

You were too focused on the files when you entered his office that you didn’t realize Whiskey had taken off his blazer and tie. He was wearing his standard white dress shirt and some suspenders. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and you couldn’t help but stare at his tanned arms. You didn’t realize how much muscle the man had. You shook your head.

“Why do you keep throwing shit at me?”

“Oh darlin’,” Whiskey stood up and pulled the bottle of whiskey and the baseball out of your hands, set them down on his desk and leaned on the wooden table. “just testing your reflexes and reaction time.”

“Ginger was right.”

“Hmm?” said Whiskey, pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and popping open the bottle of whiskey. You stared as he brought the bottle to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he took a swig. He licked his lips and you felt a shiver run through your body.

“I’m waiting darlin’.” he said with a smirk. He knew you were staring. He had made sure you were staring.

“She said you were a character.”

“I have been called larger than life.”

“Uh, anyways here are the files.” Reaching out to hand the files to your boss, his hand met yours and once again the two of you froze. The only movement coming from the room was the rise and fall of your chests and Whiskey’s thumb making slow circles on the back of you hand.

“Jack I— oh.”

You immediately moved your hand and Whiskey took the files from you at the sound of Ginger’s voice.

“Sorry.” said Ginger, giving you an apologetic look. “Champ gave me some…” Ginger paused, looking for the right word. “updates — classified updates — that you need to hear Jack.”

“Guess that’s my cue.” you said, making your way out of the office.

“Get home safe Y/N.” said Whiskey giving you a smile. Your heart fluttered in response.

‘Stop. You cannot have feelings for your boss. Especially Whiskey.’

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

It was finally Friday after work and to say you were exhausted was an understatement. The rest of the week had been pretty straightforward minus some odd behavior from Whiskey. He continued to randomly throw things at you or ask seemingly random questions.

‘How quickly can you run a mile?’

‘About 7 and a half minutes.’

‘Ever got in a fist fight?’

‘No, but I’ve prevented some from starting.’

‘How flexible are you?’

That question you decided to ignore. There was one question, however, that kept replaying in your mind over and over again.

‘Have you ever shot a gun?’

When he asked the question you stopped in your tracks. Sure he was from the South so he most definitely had experience with firearms but you? Nope. Frankly, guns scared the shit out of you. Why did he want to know?

‘No. My dad and brother would go to shooting ranges occasionally but never took me. But if they asked I would’ve said no.’

You pondered his reasoning for all these questions as you took a shower. The questions could’ve been an attempt to get to know you better but they were nothing along the lines of ‘where did you grow up?’ ‘do you have any pets?’ or ‘what’s your favorite color?’. You were stirred from your thoughts by a knock at the door.

Parker.

“One second!” you called, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel around yourself. You rushed to the door leaving a small trail of wet footprints behind you.

“You really had the audacity to knock while I was—“

“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes.” came a thick accent. Your eyes widened immediately and you swallowed.

“Whiskey?”

“You gonna let me in darlin’?”

You were too shocked to do anything other than follow his request. Stepping aside to allow him to enter you shut the door behind you.

“Nice place. Nice getup too.” he said with a wink.

You were suddenly hyperaware of the current state of your appearance. Your hair was dripping wet and you were naked other than a much too small towel wrapped around yourself. Your boss (your very attractive boss) was in your apartment and you were essentially naked.

“One second.” you said, and ran back to the bathroom to change into the clean clothes you pulled from your closet before. Throwing on your sleep shorts and a large shirt you stormed out of the bathroom to confront Whiskey.

“Firstly, how the hell did you get my address and secondly, why the fuck are you here?”

“Firstly,” said Whiskey, putting his hands on your shoulders attempting to make you calm down. “I told you we did a background check. And secondly,” he guided the two of you over to your small couch and placed a plastic bag on your coffee table. “I brought dinner.” You narrowed your eyes and glared at him.

“What is it?” your voice still tinged with anger.

“Sushi.”

After a minute you responded.

“Okay fine you can stay.”

Whiskey took several boxes of sushi out of the bag and all your favorites were there. Your mind was doing flips to figure out much all this costed. Sushi was not cheap, especially from the restaurant he got it from.

“How’d you know sushi is my favorite?”

“Background checks.”

“Okay now I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Whiskey just gave you a smile and dug into the food. The two of you ate in silence. While scarfing down your sushi as politely as possible, it had been a long time since you had your favorite food, you observed the man next to you. He still had his black Stetson and black cowboy boots, but his slacks and blazer had been replaced by some tight fitting jeans and a matching denim jacket. The same camel coat he wore when you first met was hanging on the hook on the back of your door.

“Those gears in your head are turning darlin’.”

“Why’d you actually come here? I doubt it was just to buy me dinner.”

“Straight to business sugar? I do have to admit you’re not wrong about my intentions.” Whiskey pulled off his hat and sat it down on the coffee table. A hand went up to smooth his hair down and he turned to face you directly, a serious look on his face.

“As you’ve probably noticed Statesman Brewery is… different. We are a brewery but we’re also something more. First and foremost we are a secret independent intelligence agency.”

You choked and almost inhaled the gulp of water you were swallowing.

“I know it’s bizarre darlin’ but please don’t hurt yourself,” he said, placing a hand on your knee. “even if I wouldn’t mind doing some CPR on a catch such as yourself.” You gave him the standard look you gave him when he said these types of comments. “I wasn’t just throwing shit at you to scare you and those questions I asked? Bit of a verbal test if you will.”

“Okay now tell me the actual truth.”

“I’m serious Y/N.” his eyes darkened slightly. “You have the makings to be an agent.”

“And you think that because I caught some random crap you threw at me and because I can run a mile slightly faster than the average person?” you leaned against the couch, arms crossed. Whiskey seemed serious about what he was saying, but you weren’t fully convinced yet.

“You were at The Parking Lot on Tuesday.”

“Okay what the fuck are you stalking me now? More ‘background check’ stuff?” you said, making air quotes with your fingers.

“That was pure coincidence. Promise on my late mama’s soul.” Whiskey raised a hand and traced an ‘X’ over his heart. “I saw that ungodly man try to have his way. Was close to stopping things myself before I saw you twist his arm around his back. You were faster than a jackrabbit.”

“You saw that?”

“Sugar, the whole bar saw it. But even if the bar didn’t, I still would’ve. The second I saw you and your friend walk in, well, let’s just say I wasn’t interested in watching the football game anymore.”

Whiskey had been watching you. He saw you act fast and save yourself from that dick at the bar. Subconsciously you pulled your shoulders back and your heart swelled with pride.

“You showed him who’s boss.” Whiskey winked, repeating the phrase that seemed to keep coming up.

“Okay okay so let me get this straight. You’re some sort of secret agent, whose coverup is a business man in the alcohol industry.”

“So far so good sugar.”

“And you’re suggesting that I join this secret intelligence agency?”

“Not so much suggesting as I am insisting but other than that you’re right on the money.”

“Did you hire me as your assistant with the intent of offering me a position as an agent?”

“That, darlin’, was all you. You impressed me that night. Spoke to Champ and Ginger about it and convinced them that you’d be a good agent.”

“Champ and Ginger are agents too?” Your eyes widened. “Is Sara the receptionist one too?” Whiskey laughed at this question and your curiosity.

“No Sara is not an agent. Only a handful of people in the New York and California offices are agents. The rest of them are at the Kentucky branch.”

You paused thinking about your next question and looked down at your hands. You couldn’t help but fidget, anxious about how Whiskey would answer the next question.

“And what if I say no?”

“That’s not really an option.”

You swallowed hard and looked back up to meet Whiskey’s eyes. He had a serious look, but that seriousness slowly melted into something softer. Hope? Encouragement? Something else? He shifted on the couch so his knees touched yours.

“I have seen what you can do. You’ve got reflexes like a cat, almost broke a man’s arm.”

“He deserved it.” you grumbled.

“No arguments there darlin’. You have what it takes. Sure you’re gonna need training and whatnot but you’ll get the best of the best at Statesman. Besides, you’ll have the top teacher we have to offer. Me.” There was that million dollar smile again.

“Okay initially I was on board, but after hearing that I’ll have to spend more time with you? Kill me or dispose of me or whatever the ‘not option’ option is.” You jumped at the intense laugh that came out of the man in front of you.

“Darlin’ you’re breaking my heart.”

“And you’re breaking my sanity.” you rolled your eyes and started to put away leftovers from dinner. When you closed the door to the fridge you heard Whiskey’s voice in your ear.

“You haven’t said no.”

You turned around, practically chest to chest with Whiskey.

“Doesn’t really feel like I have a choice cowboy.” giving him a smirk. Whiskey reached around your waist to grab a pen that was on the kitchen counter. It felt like he was cornering you, but something inside you welcomed it. Whiskey scribbled on the notepad that sat next to the pen, ripped the page off, and pressed the paper into your palm.

“Pack your stuff for a week long trip. Meet me at that location on Monday morning at 6am.”

With that Whiskey turned and grabbed his coat and hat, making his way to the door.

“Sweet dreams darlin’.” he said, tipping his hat and closing the door behind him. You glanced down at the paper. His handwriting was much nicer than you were expecting. All that was on the paper was an address located in a really nice part of the city and a phone number. You could only assume it was Whiskey’s cell phone number. The only other thing on the paper was a small heart with a ‘W’ inside it. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but seeing that doodle made warmth spread across your chest.

taglist:  @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @littlemissoblivious @agingerindenial @mack4676 @loveforminato @thats-one-tender-foot @xwingsandohs @purplepascal042 @harami-mami @nova646 @lesbianlena @computeringturtle @cassandras-nest

[slafkovskys]

just like your momma / o. lindmark

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from lady by brett young

warning! brief mentions of labor and childbirth

-

slivers of light pour from the house behind you, illuminating the scene in front you as the sun had set hours before. you sigh as your feet push through the water, hands pressing against the old wood of the dock as you lean forward. besides the frogs croaking along the bank and the moon high above you, you were alone, left to your thoughts.  

the creaking of the boards behind you causes you to jump, whipping your head around quickly. owen pauses, smiling sheepishly as he holds up two cans. you shake your head before turning back around, silent as he sits down beside you.

“my apologies,” he mumbles, holding out a can for you.

“i can’t, owen, but thank you,” you send him a grin before looking down into your lap. you pull on the drawstring of your sweatpants while he tilts his can against his lips.

“what’s going on, y/n?” he asks, looking out over the lake. you turn to look at him and he diverts his eyes to you before shrugging and turning away, “you’ve been, i don’t know, weird this week. plus, i have never seen you turn down a drink.”

“i’m pregnant,” you announce, getting it over with. he inhales sharply and you nod, “i’m new to this, but i do know that alcohol isn’t the best thing for me right now.”

“oh shit,” he whistles and you hum. he takes another sip from his can. he clears his throat, “is it, um, the dad-”

“yep.”

“is he gonna-”

“nope,” you tilt your head back and close your eyes, “as a matter of fact, he made a phone call immediately after i told him, and now he’s got his parent’s lawyers drawing up the papers to sign away his rights as quickly as possible. he didn’t even consider it, being a father that is.”

“okay,” you hear the aluminum of his can hitting the surface of the dock. he sighs, “i’m sorry.”

“why are you sorry, owen? you have no reason to be. it’s not your fault that i’m knocked up by some asshole at twenty,” you turn to him to find him looking out over the lake just as you had been. “hey,” you call, “are you mad at me?”

“no, god no. why would i be mad at you, y/n? i’m mad at him. i’m just trying to convince myself why it would be a bad idea to drive to his house and beat him up,” he scoffs, looking at you. “not coming up with any cons to that. what about you?”

“it would make me really upset if you got caught,” you send him a soft smile, “and, plus, he’s not worth it.”

“still, he’s an asshole,” he shakes his head. he seems to be thinking for a moment before he speaks again, “that’s why you’ve been acting different, huh?”

“what do you mean?” you lift your feet out of the water and rest them on the dock, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head on your knees.

“this week, you’ve been different. you haven’t been wakeboarding, jumping off the boat, doing the stupid stuff with us like you usually do. i saw you with drinks, but, now that i’m thinking about it,  i never saw you drink out of them.”

“my baby will not be born knowing what a white claw tastes like,” you announce and he chuckles. you sigh, “guess i wasn’t as good at acting normal as i thought i was then.”

“i mean, i probably would’ve caught on at some point, but now that you’ve told me, a lot of things are making sense,” he says and you smile.

“gotcha-” you cut yourself off with a yawn. you scratch out your legs before pushing yourself up, “i think that i’m going to go to bed. i’ve been out here for a while.”

“okay, see you in the morning,” he calls after you as you head towards the house.

you close the door behind you and head to your room down the hall. you changed out of your clothes into something looser and more comfortable before sliding into bed. you closed your eyes and waited for unconsciousness to consume you, but it never did.

you tossed and turned for what felt like hours, but when you turned to look at the clock, it had only been thirty minutes. with a sigh, you push the covers off of your body and leave your room. the house was darker now, a couple of lights still on in case someone got thirsty or needed the bathroom during the night. you grip onto the banister as you ascend, heading for owen’s room.

you push open the door and quietly slip inside. you pad over to the bed to find him taking up most of it, arms and legs splayed out. you push his arm aside as you slide in and even though you try to be quiet, he lets out a groan, “y/n?”

“were you asleep?” you whisper, turning on your side to face him.

“no, i just got back in here,” he lies easily, rolling onto his side. he peaks open his eyes which you’re barely able to make out, “what’s going on?”

“i’m scared owen,” you admit, pulling on the covers to go above your shoulders, “i’m really fucking scared.”

“you’re keeping it, yeah?” he asks, reaching a hand out and rubbing your arm. you bite your lip and nod. he hums, “then i promise you now, you have nothing to be worried about. you’re not gonna go through this alone. no matter what, i’m here for you. you always have me.”

“you promise,” you let him pull you closer and you curl against his chest.

“i promise.”

-

what floor are you on?

you read the text a few times before you respond: why?

because y/n i’m standing in the lobby and everyone is looking at me funny

they’re gonna get security any minute and i’m telling them your name

i won’t go down alone

you sigh before sending him a ‘4’ and waiting for his response. he liked the message and didn’t respond causing you to press the side button on your phone and drop it in your lap. you turn your head towards the frosted door and wait for a figure to approach.

he wasn’t actually here, was he?

it took a minute or two before a distorted figure approached and pulled open the door. the brunette walks in and your mouth drops. he sees you and smiles, walking over to take the empty seat beside you, “good morning.”

he was.

“why are you here?” you look at him bewildered. it was barely ten o’clock in the morning and you knew that he had a lecture. a lecture that started thirty minutes ago and was almost five hours away.

“you thought that i was going to find out the gender over facetime?” he lets out a ‘psh’ noise and relaxes against the chair. “c’mon y/n. it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“owen, you’re supposed to be in a lecture right now and you-  madison is so far away. what time did you leave?” you ask him, suddenly very concerned. “are you gonna get in trouble?”

“i talked to my professor last week and after i explained what was going on, she said it was okay for me to miss a class. i also have to tell her what you’re having,” he reaches over to rub a hand over your bulging stomach. “and i left before four, somehow managed to beat traffic, and surprise you.”

“i’m definitely surprised,” you say, crossing your legs and turning your body towards his. his hand still rests on your belly as he scrolls through his phone. it wasn’t as if you minded because honestly, you’d grown used to it. “what about practice?”

“y/n, stop worrying. i’ve got all my bases covered. i’m good,” he looks at you with eyes that you want to believe were telling you the truth. he looks back down at his phone, “oh, but on the off chance that you do get a call from coach, you’re eight months pregnant and think that you’re having contractions. okay?”

“owen!” you whisper shout just as a nurse pushes open the door and calls your name. you grab your bag and stand, shoving his shoulder as you walk past, “i can’t believe you.”

“just making sure that our story is straight, y/n. geez,” he teases as he rubs his shoulder. he takes your bag before you step onto the scale, throwing it over his shoulder. “what do you have in here?”

“you’re so funny,” you make a face as the nurse charts your weight and leads you into one of the rooms. owen takes a seat in the chair against the wall while you get on the bed, answering the questions as the nurse fires them at you. with a grin, she rolls over to measure your belly. you lift your shirt for her and you hear owen sharply inhale. you look at him confused, “what is it?”

“you just- it just didn’t look that big when you facetimed me the other day,” he says, bewildered at first but he quickly realized what he had said and quickly backtracked, “i didn’t mean big as in big. i meant big as in the baby-”

“i know what you meant owen,” you giggle and so does your nurse. “i’ve just popped since you saw me last. it’s normal.”

“for twenty-two weeks, you’re actually a little bigger than normal which may mean a big baby,” your nurse states and you sigh. “maybe they’ll let us find out what they are today?”

“oh, i hope,” you sigh.

at your last appointment, you had been far enough along to finally find out the gender. your baby, however, had other plans. the way that they were positioned made it impossible to conclusively tell what you were having so you just gave up and decided to wait the extra four weeks to see.

“do we have any predictions?” she asks, rolling the machine over and letting you lean back.

“i just want my baby. i don’t care what they are,” you say as she tucks the paper in the waistband of your leggings to shield them from the gel that would go on your stomach.

“what about you, dad?” she says and the air almost shifts before owen pipes up without missing a beat.

“boy. i want to put him in hockey,” he looks at you knowingly.

“they’ll play if they want to play. he’s not going to be forced,” you don’t mention that owen wasn’t the father, but it weighs heavy in the back of your mind as she flicks off the light and squirts the gel on your stomach.

“let’s see,” she moves the wand around, looking for your baby. she finds them and you can’t help but smile as they show up on the screen. they shift a little and owen whistles. you turn your head and hold out your hand, the nerves suddenly getting to you. he stands quickly and grabs onto your hand as the nurse presses some buttons and chuckles, “well, it looks like you’ll need to start researching co-ed teams.”

“it’s a girl?” you ask for confirmation. she nods and you look at owen who, despite his earlier admission, is staring at the screen with a smile on his face so wide his cheeks have to be hurting. “baby rue,” you whisper and owen squeezes your hand.

the nurse lets you hear the heartbeat before taking some pictures and flicking the light back on. the black and white picture of your baby, your daughter, was still on the screen and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as she cleaned the gel from your stomach and raised you back up. “your doctor will be here in a few minutes to talk to you, alright? congratulations!”

“thank you!” you say as she walks out of the door.

as soon as the door shuts fully, owen squats down and gets right beside your stomach, “hey buddy, can i still call you that? thank you for letting us finally see what you are. i hope your stubbornness doesn’t transfer when you’re born. you're bigger than you should be which i guess is a sign your mom’s feeding you good? anyway, i can’t wait to see you, rue, and i love you so much and so does your mom.”

his lips press to the side of your stomach and you sniffle, causing him to look up. “my hormones are out of whack, owen. you can’t make fun of me.”

“i wasn’t gonna,” he chuckles, leaning over to kiss the side of your head. “besides if anyone should be emotional, it’s me. i had fifty bucks on this baby being a boy and now i’ve got to pay cole.”

before you can scold him for betting on your child’s gender (though you're not surprised that he did), your doctor walks in and makes you forget about it. thirty minutes later, you’re walking out of the office building with a strip of sonogram pictures and your next appointment. you give one to owen and you didn’t miss him carefully placing it in his wallet after he got into his car or when he took you out for breakfast, staring at it when he slid his card out to pay.

-

“did you even shower?” you ask as you pull away from owen’s embrace. “i haven’t gotten sick since the first trimester but i genuinely think that you’re bringing it back.”

“you know exactly where to hit me where it hurts don’t you,” he shakes his head, fixing the beanie on top of his obviously wet hair. “i did, actually. ask cole.”

“don’t ask me anything,” cole shakes his head, holding your phone in his hand. “now smile, pretend like you're happy to see each other. rue’s done eight months hard time and it needs to be documented, i was told.”

“eight months?” owen asks as you wrap an arm around his waist and he throws one of his around your shoulder.

“i’m not gonna see you when i hit eight so we’re rounding. now, happy face,” you smile towards cole and owen sighs before doing the same. cole takes a few pictures as you’d instructed before handing you your phone back. “thanks cole!”

“anytime,” he smiles before looking towards owen who was leaning against the wall beside you, “are you sure that you don’t want to go out with us?”

you look up at owen who was busy sending cole a death glare. you nudge his side with your elbow, “you don’t have to stay in just because i’m here, owen. you should go out and celebrate with your teammates.”

“what about you though?” he tugs you gently into his side, leading you towards the door with cole following a few steps behind.

“i’m twenty-one years old, owen. i can get myself back to your apartment just fine. i’m tired anyway. i’ll probably take a shower and crash immediately afterward,” you shrug.

“please don’t use the word crash,” he grumbles as he opens your car door for you. you shake your head and slip into the driver’s seat. he leans in, “are you sure? i don’t mind coming home with you.”

“go have fun. i’ll be there when you get back,” your cheeks burn as he places a kiss on the top of your head. “don’t do anything stupid.”

“you know me,” he chuckles before shutting your car door. he waves his hand before heading off in the opposite direction.

you sigh before starting your car and putting it in drive, pulling away from kohl center. of course you had planned on owen coming back to the apartment with you, but you weren’t going to stop him from going out and having fun just because you couldn’t.

that wasn’t fair to him nor was it right of you.

the drive back to his apartment wasn’t bad considering that most of the game traffic was gone. you went straight up to his floor and practically collapsed onto the couch after depositing your stuff onto the kitchen table.

you run your hand over your stomach as her foot nudges your side. you grin, “shouldn’t you be sleeping rue?”

as if she could hear you, she shifts around before stilling. you sigh, looking around the apartment. it was obvious that four college boys lived in it, based on the posters and the dishes that were in the sink when you had arrived yesterday. even though you had only been able to visit a handful of times since they had moved in, there were little touches of you dotted around. some examples being the sonogram duct-taped (directly beside a perfectly capable magnet but “we wanted it to stay”) to the refrigerator door, the scrunchie on the counter that hasn’t moved since you forgot it there two months before, and the silver ‘it’s a girl’ balloon that hung off-center above the couch.

and in owen’s room, which you had pushed yourself up off the couch to retire to, was an obvious sign that you had been here. the body pillow splayed across his bed because you couldn’t sleep on your back anymore, the perfume bottle you left on his dresser just in case you forgot yours back home, the purse that you keep forgetting to grab from his door handle when you leave, all evidence of how you had integrated into his life so quickly, so easily.

your shower was as quick as you could make it and after brushing your teeth, you slip under owen’s warm comforter. it was strange not having him there beside you. you had grown accustomed to it actually, him running his hand through your hair as you slipped peacefully into unconsciousness as he tells some story about something that had happened in the locker room. the bed felt empty, cold.

i shouldn’t have told him to go.  

you shake your head at the thought before closing your eyes, hoping to drift off quickly. unfortunately, that doesn’t happen and you toss and turn for another hour. you weren’t sure what time it was when you heard someone enter the apartment, but you wouldn’t be lying when you said that you got a nervous feeling when a single set of footsteps approached owen’s bedroom.

you shut your eyes, like that would ward off an intruder, as the doorknob twists and someone walks in. there was a sigh, a familiar one thankfully, as you hear him slip off his shoes. it takes a minute before a weight drops down onto the bed and a hand touches the covered skin of your stomach.

“hi rue,” his voice is gentle as it always was when he talked to her, “it’s me, owen, but i hope that you would know that by now. you’ve grown a lot since i last saw your mom which isn’t a bad thing, keep doing that.

“mom says that you’re making her back hurt and giving her heartburn. i know that you can’t help it, but if you could lay off of her a little bit i think she would like that a lot. also, the braxton-hicks, rue i know that you want to come out, but you’re not ready yet. your mom has done a good job being your home and i know that it’s getting cramped in there, but you just need to hang out in there for a little longer, okay? we both want to meet you really bad, but we want you to be healthy when we do, deal?”

you raise a hand to run through his hair. he looks up and you grin, “you’re sweet.”

“and you were awake that whole time?” he asks and you nod. he shakes his head, “this is an a and b conversation, so if you could c yourself out of it, it would be much appreciated.”

“what are you, thirteen?” you giggle and he stands up. you rest your hands under your head, watching as he starts to change out of the suit. you can’t stop yourself before the words spill from your mouth, “our daughter is lucky to have you.”

he freezes and so do you. you quickly try to backtrack, “no, i didn’t-”

“don’t apologize,” he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his legs before turning to face you, “i want to be that for her. if you’ll let me, of course.”

“be- be what?”

“her dad. her father figure at least,” he stands beside his bed and holds out his hand to help you sit upright. he hands you your water bottle before taking up the space across from you, “y/n, i love you. i want to be a family with you and before you say that i’m not thinking, i am. i’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

“owen, i couldn’t ask you to do that,” you shake your head, playing with the lid of your bottle. “you’re nineteen. your career has barely begun. you don’t want to be a dad right now.”

“i didn’t until you got pregnant and now,” he shakes his head before tentatively reaching for your hand, “i can’t imagine not being in her life. i want to dress up in tutus and tiaras, have tea parties, or even teach her hockey if she wants. i want to be her dad and i have never wanted anything more.”

“it doesn’t bother you that she’s not yours?” you ask, rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand.

“it used to, i’m not going to lie, but in every way except biological, i feel like she’s mine. i’m the one who’s gone with you to your appointments. i’m the one who felt her kick for the first time. i helped you pick out names. i’m the one who even put together her crib.”

and he had. the thing was, you hadn’t even asked him to do that. you woke up from a nap one day to find him not beside you but instead across the hall with a half-assembled crib and a confused expression on his face. “this is gibberish,” he held out the directions for you to read over.

your stomach turns again and you were positive it wasn’t your daughter kicking you. it was a feeling you had never felt before. it was good, so fucking good though. owen wanted your baby, wanted her to be his, to be yours together. he wanted to raise her as if she was his own and, just as he said, in every way that meant something, she was.

you look up at him, “you can’t change your mind. i know that i have no idea what i’m doing, but i want her to have stability. if you’re going to be her dad, you don’t get to pick and choose when you get to act like it. it’s a forever type of commitment, owen.”

“i am aware of that y/n,” he smiles, “you don’t have to give me an answer tonight. i know it’s a big decision and it’s completely up to you. i just want you to know that regardless, you both have me. forever.”

“pinky promise?” you whisper and he, without hesitation, hooks his pinky with your own. “oh, um, before i forget, ryder asked if i would make breakfast in the morning. do you have any requests?”

“he asked you to make us breakfast?” he raises his eyebrows and you nod. “does he know that you’re seven months pregnant?”

“i would be very surprised if he hadn’t noticed.”

-

it happened so quick, labor did.

one minute, you were on your ball pleading with your daughter to make a move and the next, you're frantically trying to get a hold of owen who was minutes away from hopping on a plane to boston.

he barreled through the door a few hours later, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled, and suddenly everything felt right as he approaches the bed.  

“how are you?” he asks, grabbing onto your hand when you reach out for him. his lips press to your sweaty forehead.

“i feel fat,” you mumble, joking a little bit.

“baby, you’re gorgeous-”

“i didn’t say i was ugly owen, i said that i was fat,” you deadpan. his face flushes and you crack a small grin, “i’m just messing with you. lighten up.”

“how can you joke right now?” he looks at the monitors that you were hooked up to. “how far dilated are you?”

“seven centimeters. i was four when i came in so she’s progressing pretty well,” you squeeze his hand as another contraction hits. he breathes with you through it, assuring you how good you were doing. “contractions are very close together now and she should be back to check me again in like twenty minutes or something.”

he runs a hand through your hair, “can i get you something? a snack? some water?”

“the only thing i can have is ice chips in case something goes wrong or she doesn’t want to come naturally and they have to-” you trail off, both of you knowing what you were referring to.

“so, we wait.”

and you didn’t wait very long.

four hours later, her cries filled the room as she entered the world. you look at owen in shock as they lay her on your chest to find him crying. you look down at your daughter, “hello, sweet girl.”

“i’m so proud of you,” owen presses his lips to the top of your head before he’s handed the scissors. he follows the nurse over to where they carry your daughter to wrap her up while the nurses tend to you.

once you’re finally left alone with her, owen sits beside you on the bed, holding her close to his chest. “i’ve never loved and i will never love anyone even a fraction as much as i love you.”

“thank you for being with me,” you mumble, watching as the pacifier bobs between her lips as she sleeps, “and her.”

“i didn’t have anywhere else to be,” he grins and you swat at his thigh. he grins at you before looking down at the baby in his arms, “so, what’s the final name decision mama?”

“maya ruby,” you pause, resting your head on his shoulder, “lindmark.”

his grin grows impossibly wider, “i like that sound of that.”