#wow this list is longer than anticipated

[nine-of-diamonds]

A List of References in Keep Your Enemies Close (Wait, Not That Close)

Since it’s somehow been a year since I posted KYEC (to the warmest reception I’ve ever gotten from a fic!! Seriously y’all are the best—I can’t believe I’m still getting comments a year after publication), I compiled a complete (as far as I can remember, at least) list of all of the references (with a few explanations about my writing choices) within the fic for funsies (and also bc I put Way Too Much effort into melding all of these elements together and wanted a full list of all the things I put together that were not intended to be put together lmao)

Oh, and if it wasn’t obvious… spoilers for the fic lol — if you haven't read it but are interested in what the heck I'm talking about, it's here on ao3!

(I’m just calling every segment separated by a line break a scene even though some of them aren’t reallyyy an actual scene for the sake of clarity)

Scene 1:

One line in and I’ve already name-dropped the Watchers: not much to say about them at this point since it’s pretty much the usual “godly beings that resemble indigo biblically-accurate angels that watch people.” All I really added here was the threads of Fate mention that’ll become relevant later

Scene 3:

Grian-proof vault: this one’s a double reference! The obvious one is from Season 9 (Grian’s ep 10) where Mumbo challenges Grian to get into his vault without breaking blocks and it turns out to be a decoy vault, but the second one is from Season 6 (Grian ep 100), where Grian, Bdubs, and Iskall (as the Dragon Bros) break into Mumbo’s vault to induct him into the cult club by guessing the code to be 1-2-3-4 (the “I didn’t plan for someone to come in and start jamming codes in” and KYEC!Grian’s response, “It was the second thing I tried” are reworded from their follow-up convo about it in the next episode)

KYEC!Grian’s stolen diamonds: okay I’m pretty sure this Season 6 arc started in Grian’s ep 73, where he mentions for the first time that his diamonds have “mysteriously gone missing” — KYEC!Grian’s got the same problem, only most of his diamonds are accidentally stolen and are causing more problems than economic deficits lol → we’ll get to the completion of this arc wayyy later, but this was the very first plot point to fall into place for this fic

Detective Grian: going even farther back into Season 6, we have the Sherlock Grian arc (begins in Grian’s ep 56) — once again, we’ll get back to this one

Fun fact: the moment where KYEC!Grian’s “skin prickled with the distinct sensation that someone was watching, waiting for him to do something” was meant to be foreshadowing that would become obvious at the end bc I originally planned to have KYEC!Grian’s time traveling be onscreen — that scene was meant to show Future Grian traveling to the past to steal his diamonds, but getting the timing slightly off so he was still in the apartment when this convo takes place, and is therefore the mysterious watcher mentioned here; I didn’t end up writing out that scene, though so now it just looks like another surface level Watcher reference

Scene 4:

KYEC!Grian’s powers: the wings don’t require explanation but here’s my rationale for the “perspective-shifting” (which, lemme tell you was cool in theory but SO annoying to figure out what to call/describe) → it’s basically just being able to go into F5 mode (the range limit for him is basically that he can move what I’ll call his mental camera to any point provided that at all times, his body is visible to the mental camera from some angle, i.e. he can’t see into the next room if there are no doors/windows but he can see around corners and objects); this power’s another Watcher parallel but also a contrast to Scar’s in that it’s good for revealing “the truth” while Scar’s power is deceptive in nature

Scene 5:

Hotguy!: fun fact, I actually started writing this fic before I knew about Scar’s Hotguy persona (I was grievously behind on Season 9 when I started this fic in mid 2022) so KYEC!Scar’s original hero name was Goodfellow and he used a staff, not a bow — but obviously, I swapped it to fit the Hotguy we all know and love (and for the sake of keeping track of episode references, I’m naming Scar’s Season 9 ep 5 as the first Hotguy mention in canon, don’t @ me if I’m wrong lol)

KYEC!Scar’s powers: alright, here’s a lil secret, there’s actually smth going on with his bow that never gets brought up in this fic and that I will be keeping secret bc I may or may have smth in the works. I can, however, talk about his illusions! While KYEC!Grian’s power lets him change how he sees things, KYEC!Scar’s lets him change what other people see. The illusions are also a nod at Scar’s terraforming + building skills since he can create intricate landscapes 

Xelqua (as KYEC!Grian’s villain name): other ideas for KYEC!Grian’s villain name included Poultry Man + Watcher but I settled on Xelqua since it’s commonly associated with Watcher!Grian but feels more like a name than just plain Watcher, and then afterwards, I developed the actual Xelqua lore

Xelqua (the lore one): obviously we have the nod at our tried and tested fanon “he was only meant to watch” but the mention of him “engineer[ing] countless games… with gods and men alike” is a blink and you’ll miss it Life series reference (I suppose it could also be a reference any of Grian’s other minigames but the Life series was what I had in mind lol) → also, the whole “Ultimately, the Watchers located Xelqua after he succumbed to his nature and began stirring up trouble again” bit of lore was just me riffing off that fable about the frog and the scorpion, which traumatized me as a kid and therefore lives in my brain rent-free

Scene 6: 

Harmless pranks: rapidfire references, let’s go! “a bit of ‘misplaced copper’” = Mumbo’s copper “lagging” into Grian’s inventory (Grian Season 8 ep 13), “a few disappearing doors” = Grian being a chronic door thief (...pretty much all of Season 7), “a few chests filled with eggs” = Grian + his quest to clog up his messaging system with Mumbo (Grian Season 6 ep 22 + many, many more instances)

Scene 7:

Roofed forest: very, very random but I did write this scene with Scar’s first Third Life episode in the background and was imagining the roofed forest he and Grian decimated as the scene he projects here

Also, I need you to know this fight scene was fully rewritten at least four times ;-;

Scene 9:

Mumbo unlocking Grian’s handcuffs: this wasn’t a reference when I wrote the fic but now it’s a reference to the Mumbo side fic I wrote for this au that writes out this scene

Scene 11:

KYEC!Grian’s comment: “I was broke and in need of a flatmate so he could’ve been an arsonist for all I cared, as long as he didn’t touch my stuff” → can I just cite all of the Life series here

Okay, I SWEAR the line, “You watch, Mumbo, I’ll be so subtle that you’ll forget I’m a supervillain” was based on an actual Grian line (or several) that start the same way but I can’t remember where it’s from

Scene 13:

More stolen diamonds: here’s the unofficial start of the Jangler plot lol — the moment this fic’s foundation really “clicked” for me was when I noticed mysterious diamond thievery appeared in both the time travel arc and the Jangler arc, and I was like “I can work with that”

Jellie: I want you to know the staging of this scene was specifically so I could have a reversal of the “villain stroking a cat while scheming” trope where Scar is a) wanting to do a good deed not a villainous one and b) basically getting a plan fed to him

Scene 14:

Okay pretty much this scene’s basically the transcribed version of a scene from Grian’s Season 6 ep 56 lmao but ig I’ll just talk more about how I thought to include the Jangler plot in the first place; originally, the premise of this fic was adapted from an abandoned non-MCYT fic draft I had floating around in my WIP folder, where the two characters were university dormmates who were unknowingly also vigilante partners + there was a whole Miraculous Ladybug style love square going on (on second thought, I was basically just making MLB with vigilantes lmao). When I got the idea to adapt it to a Desert Duo-centric superhero trying to catch supervillain fic, I wanted to make it platonic since most of the superhero aus I’ve read for the pair are romantic and I wanted to do smth different — the problem was that getting rid of the romance also got rid of a lot of the tension between the characters, so I needed smth to replace it — hence the detective/Jangler dynamic being included to make sure both characters were actively hiding a secret from the other at all times

Scene 16: 

This is probably a little obvious on second read but I did leave a comment to myself on one of my draft docs pointing out that KYEC!Scar decided to continue going out as the Jangler (even though he’d already technically fulfilled the returning diamonds thing he’d invented the persona for) because he overheard Grian talking about how he’d prefer to have more to work on + would get money from it 

Scene 18:

Attempted murder: back on the Season 6 reference train we go! This is from Grian’s ep 12 where he pranks an AFK Jevin by putting him on a flying machine and the game glitches and sends Jevin falling to his death

Scene 20:

The foreshadowing here is very obvious but this scene was a last minute addition I did not plan to include but was compelled to write bc I needed something to lighten the mood a bit since it was getting too serious and also bc I wanted to include the “sweet job” pun. Yes, I know it’s terrible. Yes, I laugh at it every time.

Scene 21 + 22: 

Cookie trail: here’s another “mostly transcribed” scene from Grian’s Season 6 ep 57 — I ran into a little problem logistically since flying isn’t the norm in this world but is in Hermitcraft, so I had to shove in the whole “flying machine to reach the top of the cookie” thing lmao 

KYEC!Stress: she does not make an appearance but I gave her ice powers bc of her ice castle base in Season 6

Scene 24: 

This entire scene is just Desert Duo dancing around each other trying to keep their secret identities secret but KYEC!Scar’s comment, “I always forget what information’s public” is a bit of irony that made me laugh while writing bc it comes straight after he accidentally reveals he knows where the cookie was

Scene 25–28:

Hitman after KYEC!Grian: yep this goes back to Grian’s Season 6 ep 14 where Jevin puts out a hit on Grian after the AFK prank that Iskall tries to carry out 

Grian’s trap: this is obviously just the trap for Iskall that Grian makes to stop him but I would like you to know that I went back to the episode to count the number of pistons used to make sure it lined up lmao

Scene 28 is also basically just a very dramatic version of the chase scene in this episode with some Watcher paranoia for spice

Scene 30–31:

Time machine: time to circle all the way back around to this plot lol — I didn’t think it made sense for KYEC!Grian to build a time machine himself during all of this but he still gets access to one in the end thanks to Mumbo. Grian’s Season 6 ep 79 has him go back in time to stop his diamonds from being stolen, only to realize he’s the one who stole them in the first place, and I thought it was a fitting way to end the fic after all the diamond stealing shenanigans

And hey, that's it! That list totally didn't take me like two hours to write up and find the episodes for! No wonder I had to restructure this fic like seven times when writing it!

Anyway, if you read this far, thanks for indulging my madness :) And to anyone who's engaged with any of my fics, thank you thank you thank you for every hit, kudos, comment, and bookmark!

[tsukimefuku]

in another life ʚɞ higuruma hiromi

In another life, I would've loved doing laundry and taxes with you

Higuruma wasn’t one to stare, but the moment you looked back at him sitting by the counter and smiled, he realized his gaze must have lingered on you longer than he anticipated. He quickly averted his eyes elsewhere, fumbling around with Keita's case files on the table before taking the cup of coffee and giving it a big gulp. He felt somewhat silly to be gazing at a random woman in a random cafe one day before Keita’s second trial, but oh well, here he was.

You happened to be at Morioka for the past week, still working as an underground healer using your RCT, glad enough that Jujutsu High hadn't caught up with you. This was your last day in Morioka before leaving for Hokkaido, for yet another job, and your mind wandered around until you noticed this man looking at you. 

You saw him when he came inside the cafe, carrying a big briefcase, some folders with what seemed to be piles of papers inside, and the most tired, exhausted face you had ever seen on anyone. He had a black suit on, wore a black tie and had a tiny pin on his lapel. The man, however, didn’t seem to notice you eyeing him as he put down his order for a single cup of black coffee before taking himself and his papers to a table in the farthest corner of the place.

Maybe it was the fact that you'd be leaving the city in a few hours, or that you instantly found him to be charming in an understated way, but you grabbed your own latte and walked towards the man, not failing to notice there was an empty seat in front of him.

”Hey,” you called, pulling his eyes towards you, “is this seat taken?”

Higuruma was surprised, confused, and wondered if maybe you wanted to take the chair to use on another table.

”No, it’s not.”

”Great. Can I sit with you?”

Now he felt even more confused.

”Why?”

You chuckled a little, and cocked your head to the side.

”Because I saw you staring at me, and would like to tell you I was staring at you too when you walked in. That should be a nice conversation starter.”

Oh, caught red handed, he thought to himself. That’s what you get from getting distracted instead of working.

”I...” he began, wanting to say he was about to start working, that he was busy and couldn’t possibly entertain any type of company, but out of his mouth simply came “yes, you can.”

Satisfied, you pulled the chair and sat with him, not placing your beverage on the table to avoid the risk of an accident involving your coffee and his seemingly very important papers.

”So, change of scenery? Came to work at a cafe for the day?” you asked, leaning back.

He seemed out of his element - something he probably was. Higuruma couldn’t recall the last time he went on a date sandwiched in between his gruesome working hours. Having an attractive woman sitting with him and asking him questions was definitely not on the list of things that might happen when he stepped foot out of his apartment that morning.

”Yes, I was feeling trapped inside the office,” Higuruma mindlessly replied, putting his papers down for a moment, “I’m concerned about this trial tomorrow and wanted to read these files again.”

Then, it clicked. The suit, the pin - that now, up close, was clearly a sunflower - and the put upon face.

”Oh, you’re a lawyer?”

He nodded. “You?”

”I’m a nurse,” was the trained answer you already had for when people asked you that. “What about this case is making you nervous?”

You had no idea why you were asking this man so many questions, but he seemed unendingly interesting to you. Something about him just drew you in.

He scratched the bridge of his hooked nose for a second, apparently pondering on his next words.

”I’m afraid my client, who was relieved to be acquitted the first time around, might end up getting crushed by the cogs of the criminal justice system.”

”Oh, so you’re a criminal lawyer?”

”Yes.”

”Wow. That’s...”

Crazy in a country with such a high conviction rate. Delusional. Dangerous.

”Admirable.”

He was taken aback, and his eyes widened a little as you both locked gaze.

”I mean, Japan has a very high conviction rate, right? I read it somewhere,” you noted, taking a sip from your latte.

”Yes. 99%, in fact.”

”99%?!” you exclaimed.

He nodded and kept silent, realizing how ludicrous that was. The fact that only 1% of criminally pursued cases ended up in acquittals. After so many years, one can get accustomed to any and every type of absurdity, it seems.

“Why do you do it?” you asked him.

”Because I have a terrible habit of not being able to ignore unfair situations. If I see someone being a victim of injustice, I just have to do something about it.”

“And how has that been working out for you?”

Higuruma thought about it for a moment, yet no words came to him. He could feel himself slipping away, but denied the very notion that working with what made him feel fulfilled was the same thing that was silently chipping away at his soul, one wrongful conviction at a time.

Realizing you might’ve hit a nerve, you thought it’d be better to change the approach, asking, “is your client innocent? The one who’ll be retried tomorrow?”

Higuruma acquiesced. “Yes, yes he is.”

You sighed, and with one big gulp, finished your coffee.

”Life isn’t fair anywhere, but I’m glad there are people like you trying to tip the scales back in place,” you told him, sparing him a warm smile.

He was slightly embarrassed, not knowing how to respond to the compliment.

”And you said you were a nurse, right? Why?”

You sighed and shrugged, “I wish I had the same ‘this is what I’ve always wanted’ drive, but it’s just where life pushed me towards.”

“And why did you wish you had the same drive?”

“Because... I guess, it’s because I only became a nurse after losing everything and everyone I wanted to keep in my life. There was nothing else for me to do.”

This seemed like an oddly intimate conversation to be having with a random stranger, but it felt comforting in a way. His attentive eyes, probably from years of hearing clients crying and pleading, never seemed to look past you. They stated, silently, I’m listening. I see you. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” he noted, being someone able to pry out the truth out of people even when they didn’t realize they were lying - to someone else or to themselves.

”What do you mean?”

”You’re what? In your mid twenties? Early thirties?”

You were confused. “Hm... Yes?” Is this some kind of pick up line?

”You probably had some years to acclimate yourself to that profession. You answered me quickly when I asked, which suggests that you’re accustomed to telling people you’re a nurse for a while now. What I mean to say is that you look at peace with that choice, and I’d guess you haven't tried changing careers or anything of the sort.”

The man really read you like an open book, and you were speechless, widening your eyes a little.

”I’ll take that as a confirmation to what I’ve just said,” he stated, noting your silence.

You scoffed and chuckled a little, realizing that you were now the one figuratively getting surprised with a random person butting themselves in your table. 

“I... I think I do enjoy healing people, even though it takes a toll on me, sometimes.”

Higuruma didn’t notice how his coffee had gone cold by this point, his papers now forgotten as you both talked for a good while.

”What did you mean when you said you lost everything before becoming a nurse?”

Your mouth fell agape, but no words came out. In a second, trying to look elsewhere to mask your uncomfortable feeling, you took a quick look at your watch, realizing that you had been chatting for a very long time. You had to run or you’d miss your train.

“Oh, that’s a conversation for another day, lawyer man, I have a train to catch.”

”Another day, huh?” he inquired, and you smiled, aware that he understood what that meant. 

You definitely wanted to see him again.

You pulled up a paper note, writing your name and number on it. Swiftly, you offered him the paper, and he took it from your hands, reading it.

”Now you have my name and my number. What should I call you?”

”Higuruma Hiromi.”

“It was nice to meet you, Higuruma Hiromi, criminal defense lawyer.”

He was surprised to realize how much he liked hearing his name in your voice. He hadn’t had what felt like genuine conversation for a very long time, and could say he was even pleased you had butt in his work to probe him around with questions.

He felt heard and seen, too.

“I unfortunately really have to go now, I’m leaving for Hokkaido for a few days,” you stated, blushing slightly before proceeding, “but you should give me a call.”

He nodded your way, and for the first time during this entire interaction, actually spared you a smile.

”Okay.”

***

It had been probably hours that Higuruma laid inside this full bathtub reminiscing on the last days of normalcy before his fallout. He suddenly remembered the day prior to Keita’s conviction, and how he met you at that cafe.

It all felt like a faint dream of events that happened years ago, and not something that had taken place only a few weeks prior.

Maybe I should’ve called her. I wonder if she’s safe.

He got the gist of the Culling Games from kogane, especially the fact that the Games didn’t stretch so far as to Hokkaido. Pulling him from apathy, he felt the mildest hint of concern and hope, expecting you’d be actually safe, given you were leaving for Hokkaido that afternoon.

At Hokkaido, you followed the news about the Culling Games, glad you had been out of the ground zero when shit went down. You wondered if the people you met in the past - friends and acquaintances, mostly - were alright, and for a second, the image of that lawyer came into your mind.

You wondered if he was safe too.

Unfortunately, only one of you two would be proven right. 

—

End notes: I have The Big Sad today and decided to turn into everybody’s problem.

[page551]

can you list out some of the unhinged things sp has done? im re-reading orv rn and it just genuinely amazes me how seriously i took this guy when his arc came about XD prior to that he was just the silly chill dude that sent weird silly messages lol

sp enjoyer pipeline be like: hehe silly guy -> wow thats terrifying -> he's pathetic actually <3 -> oh he's so sad 😢 -> he's so pathetic <3 -> good for him honestly -> he's so pathetic-

i will try my best to list as many things that i remember but also note that im aware not every message kdj received was sent by him as opposed by the kkomas but i Might overlook some of these since the kkomas are part of him too

sp was shown to like kdj at his most wicked, as he calls it, just for him to call him pathetic in front of yjh. it's okay beloved ik this was crucial to your character development

he finds the idea of yjh impregnating kdj to be ridiculous and then sponsors kdj 600 coins (yes ive checked)

speaking of sponsorships that one time he basically mocked the constellations of silla by sponsoring kdj the coins that mjw was trying to give to kdj lol he's a shit disturber at heart (his 666th turn exists after all)

he also congratulated kdj when he became sys's sponsor (isnt he cute) and then kdj went on a tangent about how theres no way sp is ordinary cuz no glucose guardian can possibly be weak and ordinary regardless of the simple titles

he can comfort a sad swk and gossip about joongdok to uriel (well probably kkomas but REGARDLESS theres at least one kkoma thats a fudanshi. thats enough for me)

he crashed the constellation banquet like it was nothing. shit disturber as i said

when fourth wall is deactivated briefly, sp 'snaps' at the outer gods/great ones trying to spy on kdj while simultaneously spying on kdj himself

he sacrificed his fingers in order to save kimcom and when kdj tried to "rebel" like !!what if i dont do what you want? he went i still have more fingers left. like kdj bestie ur not winning an argument against him rn

he showed up in white, a color yjh very much "detests" and kidnapped kdj in front of yjh. not only that but he also mocked yjh's powerlessness while he was at it. it's the way the only reason sp hates this version of yjh is bcs he has kdj and he didnt for me

he's created 1.8k+ chibi dolls of himself

next is the 2nd kidnapping. can you call it unhinged if one of your exes shows up at your door and she immediately realizes that theres someone you desperately want to protect even after ruining so many worldlines?? idk tis up to yall

when he mentioned to poseidon that he has already killed him 25 times just for shits and giggles and then proceeded to kill him again

when astronaut yjh was abt to die and sp shows up like "bitch u wish for that luxury" "anw this will be the last time i save your weakass cuz unlike you i actually got a kdj to take care of. bye lmao"

anw this got longer than i anticipated but here it is. my lil list of sp's unhinged moments. im pretty sure I've missed a few here and there but this guy is mentioned like 800 times in the novel and i dont have the patience to look through it all without getting distracted

[slippinmickeys]

Okay if you feel like this is interesting for a Proof of Life fic...

just little windows into their first pregnancy, lounging and being happy, traveling for work maybe, and then meeting the baby for the first time or something.

1. He is staring at her face, but he doesn’t care. He is clocking every shift of her eyes, every microexpression; dying, dying to know if he’s done well, if he’s done the right thing. 

She stopped next to the real estate SOLD sign and is studying the outside of the house. It is modest, especially for this neighborhood, but it has nice lines, and verdant hydrangea bushes out front weighed down with so many pink and blue blossoms that you can hardly see any green.

“It’s got great curb appeal,” she says, and Mulder lets out an enormous sigh of relief. 

“Let me show you the inside,” he says, digging deep into his pocket for the set of keys the realtor had handed him only that morning. 

It takes two tries to get the door open, and Scully stands there wearing a patient smile, her hands resting on the soft swell of her stomach. 

“There we go,” he says, and he stops halfway over the threshold. “Do you want me to carry you in?” he asks, turning back toward her. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“Let’s save your back for the boxes,” she says. “I’m afraid you’re on your own for all the heavy lifting.”

“Roger that,” he says, and reaches out instead to grab her hand, pulling her into the small foyer. 

“A front closet,” she immediately observes. “That’s good. And room for a bench and shoes.”

With every nice thing she says, pounds upon pounds of weight lift off his shoulders. 

She was in Haiti far longer than either of them anticipated, and he offered to fly back to the States to start looking for a house for them to settle into once she was done. She’d given him a long list of requirements, and he’d kissed a lot of frogs before finding this house–a mid-century modern ranch in Alexandria with three bedrooms, two baths, and a check mark next to everything she’d requested. When he’d looked at it the first time, he’d felt it was right, and his realtor told him that if he wanted to put an offer down, he shouldn’t wait. 

“There are fifteen offers on it already–I mean, at this price, in this neighborhood?” She’d said. “But it’s an older couple that’s downsizing and they want it to go to a young family. I may have mentioned your wife’s condition and there’s a possibility I showed their realtor your picture from the Pulitzer ceremony.” She had glanced at Mulder with a look that screamed I hope I did the right thing. “They’re waiting on an offer from you. If they don’t get one today, they have another buyer picked out.”

And so after three phone calls to Scully’s cell phone that all went unanswered or were met by a recorded voice telling him the number he is trying to reach is unavailable, he put in an offer, which was accepted twenty minutes later and by the time Scully called him back, they were homeowners and she hadn’t so much as seen a picture of the house. Mulder had been there for the inspections, and escrow closed while she was still on Hispaniola. 

He likes the house. He hopes she loves it. 

“The kitchen is through here?” she asks. He nods and follows her in. 

“Wow, the appliances look new,” she says, and he simply smiles at her. 

They are new. Brand new. He’d bought them himself and had them installed before she got back to the States. The ones that came with the house were archaic–avocado green monstrosities with abysmal energy ratings. But the kitchen layout was great, and the countertops and cabinetry were acceptable and could be improved or replaced in the future. 

She runs her hands along the mantle in the living room, peaks out the window to look at the spacious backyard. She wanders into the master bedroom, complimenting the closet space, and when she gets to the back bedroom, she stops in the doorway. 

“The nursery,” he says quietly, putting a gentle hand on her lower back. 

The room is painted a soft yellow, and in the corner stands an enormous stuffed giraffe with a large bow around its neck. 

“From James, and the crew at the We clinic,” he says. “They say his name is Twiga.”

She turns to him with tears in her eyes. “Perfect,” she says. “It’s all perfect.” 

2.  “I can’t believe the only piece of furniture you own is a coffee table,” Scully says, putting her feet up on said object. 

Mulder is in the kitchen fiddling with the various bags of take out, assembling plates for them both. 

“You’re lucky I had it,” he calls to her over his shoulder. “Seeing as how Ethan got everything in the divorce.”

“Don’t even joke about that man,” Scully says, reaching down to adjust her wedding and engagement bands, making sure the small Indian diamond Mulder got her is perfectly centered. “When I moved in with him, he had nicer furniture, so I got rid of all mine. You know this. But even my old coffee table was better than this one. It’s hideous.”

Hideous might not be the right word, but it is certainly not to either of their tastes. She doesn’t know furniture styles all that well, but it looks practically colonial, with wooden legs that round into clawed feet, and nearly all of it is covered in intricate carving. It’s like a miniature version of the Resolute Desk. With feet. 

He appears from the doorway that leads from their kitchen to the living room carrying two plates laden with at least five different kinds of Chinese takeout. 

“That one has history. It has provenance. There’s a reason I kept it.”

He kept nothing else. He’d had a small storage unit in Boston with the coffee table and twelve boxes of photography equipment.

He sets his food down on the aforementioned artifact and hands her the plate he made up for her, along with utensils, a cheap paper napkin, paper-wrapped chopsticks and a fortune cookie. She dumps the chopsticks and fortune cookie on the table next to his and balances the plate on the enormous rounded drum of her stomach. 

“You don’t even need a table, Scully. You’ve got one built-in.”

She has to admit it is handy. It is next to impossible to pull up to a dining table (not that they had one) with the enormous mass of her stomach, so couch eating, using her stomach as a platform makes for a comfortable, tidy solution. Unless the baby kicks, then all bets are off. 

She gives him a look and continues to gaze at him. “If there’s provenance, I want to hear it.”

“My dad had it in college,” he says, taking an enormous bite of egg roll that he has to fully chew before he can go on.

“So far I’m unimpressed,” Scully says, turning to look at the table and then her plate. The plate is absolutely laden. She doesn’t know where to start. 

Mulder wipes his mouth and continues. “Dartmouth. One of his roommates was this super rich guy from Hyannis Port. Grew up next to the Kennedys. Rose was particularly fond of him. When he moved off campus in college, she found out and gave him a shitton of furniture from one of the Compound rooms she was redecorating to outfit the new digs. When Dad’s roommate graduated, he took everything but this.”

“I can’t blame him for leaving it,” Scully says, winding a bite of lo mein onto a fork. “It’s awful.”

“It’s interesting,” Mulder corrects her. “Probably three generations of Kennedys have put their scotch down on that table. It’s historic Americana.”

“I bet the Kennedys used coasters,” she says. “This piece of historic Americana,” she gestures to the table. “Looks like it was made from the captain’s berth of a whaling ship and is sporting what looks like at least five different water rings from Dartmouth Pabst.”

“At least one of those rings is mine and it was iced tea,” he says, standing up. “Speaking of…you want one?”

“Sure.” 

“Captain’s berth or not, this is what we’ve got for now,” he says, coming back into the room and handing her a cold Snapple. “Once we add a few more water rings and the dazzling crayon stylings of Scully Jr., we’ll donate it to the Smithsonian.”

“All I took from what you just said was that we can eventually get rid of it.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “But please keep in mind that the only furniture we currently have is a mattress still in plastic, the couch we’re sitting on which is on loan from your brother until his next posting and the Dartmouth Pabst Americana coffee table.”

“Hey, that’s a lot for two people who mostly lived in tents the last half decade.”

“And how,” he answers. 

Scully takes one more bite of food and slides the plate onto the only table they own. 

“You okay?” Mulder asks, instantly tender. “You barely ate.”

“If I eat more than five bites I’ll be up all night with heartburn,” she explains. 

Mulder obliviously wolfs down the last three bites of his own food and sets his plate down. 

“Here,” he says. “Swing your legs up here and I’ll rub your feet.”

Scully doesn’t hesitate and Mulder is digging into her aching arches before her head even hits the arm of the couch. 

She lays there blissed out for a moment. “Want to split a fortune cookie?” she asks after a moment, reaching for the one she set on the table. 

They break it in half like a wishbone and Scully gets the half with the fortune in it. She pulls out the little piece of paper and takes a crunchy bite of the cookie. Heartburn be damned, she can’t resist.

Mulder raises his eyebrows. “So?” he says. “What’s our fortune?” 

“You will soon find yourself in a Pottery Barn,” she reads. 

3. It’s the first time he’s been away from her overnight since she’s been back in the States. He hates it. She hates it. They both hate it. But they have a month to go before the baby is due, and he’s still looking for a full-time job. When he got a call asking if he wanted to be a part of a week-long photography symposium in California for a decent amount of cash, it was an opportunity he couldn’t turn down.  

He calls her as soon as the plane’s wheels touch down at National. He can’t wait to hear her voice. 

“Hey,” he says when she answers. “I just landed.”

“How was the flight?” she asks. Her voice is a little breathy, like maybe she was walking up a set of stairs. 

“Not bad, all things considered. A little weather over the Rockies. Are you out and about?”

He really hopes she isn’t. All he wants to do is go home, plant a massive kiss on her lips and then fall into bed with her in his arms and sleep until next Tuesday. 

“No, I’m home,” she says. 

“Oh,” he says. “Good.” 

“You’re taking the Metro home, right?” she asks. “You left your car at the Kiss & Ride?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t want you to have to come and get me.”

“Okay,” she says. There’s an odd quality to her voice that he can’t place, but forgets about it when she says “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he says, his own voice going soft. 

The woman in the seat next to him looks at him and smirks, but he doesn’t care. 

“Listen, we’re about to pull into the gate. I’ll see you soon. Love you, Scully.”

“You too,” she says on a breath and then disconnects the line. 

The next hour is a pain in the ass. His luggage takes forever to come in and his hard case of camera equipment is dented on one side, so he has to go through each piece of equipment one at a time to check for damage. Luckily everything checks out. Outside, it’s a rush hour mob scene and the rain makes the train cars humid and smelling of funk and he’s half soaked by the time he makes it to his car. It’s not a long drive from the lot, and once he’s on Fort Hunt Road the traffic has finally thinned, but he has to stop for gas. By the time he pulls into their driveway, it’s dark, and he’s exhausted. He half hopes Scully’s asleep so he can just slide into bed too and lose himself to oblivion. 

He enters and kicks off his shoes, leaving his luggage by the door. The house is quiet and the lights are dim. He tries the master bedroom first, but she isn’t there. 

“Scully?” he calls out.

There’s a noise from the living room. When he enters, his stomach falls into his socks. 

Scully is half on the couch and half off, her arms resting against the cushions as if they're holding her up. It looks like she has maybe fallen. He cannot see her face.

“Scully!” He skids to her side on a bright burst of adrenaline and she turns to look at him weakly. 

“What happened? Are you okay? What’s-” The words all tumble out of his mouth one after the other and she reaches over and squeezes his arm, shutting him up instantly. 

“I’m fine,” she breathes. “It’s just…” She clenches her teeth, unable to finish, and Mulder instantly reads the situation. She’s in labor. A whole damned month early. 

“How far apart?” he asks her, breathless. 

The contraction seems to have passed and she gives him a weak smile. “Not very.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You got teleporting abilities I don’t know about?” she asks, and he helps her move up and onto the couch. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You should have called your mom, you should-”

Another rough grab of her hand to his arm. “I’m not doing this—any of this—without you.”

4. They’re not left alone, the three of them, until they’ve been moved out of the spacious and plush Labor and Delivery ward and into the small, confining cell of Recovery. When at last the on-call nurse leaves the room with a smile and instructions on how to use the call button, the room descends into peace. A quiet, hovering peace. 

The baby is asleep, nestled into the crook of Scully’s arm, warm and oddly heavy.

Mulder still has a dazed and exhausted look on his face and is wearing the same clothes he traveled in yesterday, rumpled and a little bit worse for wear. He also hasn’t stopped smiling. A single, gentle click punctuates the silence and then he sets his camera down on the bedside table.

He is as quiet as the room itself and leans over the bed, staring at the baby. He only moves his gaze once, to flit his eyes to Scully’s, running a soft hand through her hair. 

“You did it,” he whispers. 

“I did,” Scully says happily, tiredly, following his gaze to look down at the small miracle of their child. 

The baby has a button nose, orange peach fuzz, and eyes that so look like Mulder’s that Scully can hardly look away herself. 

“Can I hold her?” he asks tenderly. “I don’t want to wake her, but…” 

He’d cut the cord, he’d gotten to shout “It’s a girl!!” He’d held her while the nurses helped Scully into the wheelchair to move floors. But he hasn’t yet had the chance to commune with the life he helped create, and Scully knows that’s what he wants and she knows it’s something he needs. 

“Of course,” she says, immediately moving the tiny child up and around so that Mulder can take her, tubes trailing down from the IV line taped to the back of her hand. 

His hands are gentle and tender as he lifts her, and big, so big that the baby practically looks like an egg in a baseball mitt.

“Hi,” he says to her once she’s settled in his arms. He wears a big smile, brushing eyes with Scully before staring back down at his daughter. “Hello Emily,” he says, like he’s trying on the name. The baby snuffles, settles. 

Beyond the walls of the hospital, airplanes cross and fly overhead. Beyond the walls of the hospital, are arguments, traffic accidents, war. People are kidnapped. People are killed. Beyond the walls of the hospital is everything else. 

Mulder settles into the chair in the corner of the room, his daughter laying snuggly in his lap, and he doesn’t move for a very, very long time.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Changing of the Guard, Part 2

WoW Birthday Whump Day 13: Natural disaster / Shock collar / "Shut up!"

Prompt List

first part

TW: imprisoned, electrocution, earthquake

Context: It has been several weeks since Henry has been appointed as Dragon Keeper. Arcturus has come to value their friendship. But the magic designed to keep Arcturus imprisoned might be stronger than Henry had anticipated.

-----

It wasn’t the distant rumbling that signaled to Arcturus that something was off. He was used to inexplicable phenomena in a world where wizards could conjure storms and create fire with nothing but a source to draw from. Earthquakes were uncommon in the valley, sure, but not unheard of.

It was when Henry arrived hours before he was supposed to.

During the weeks since his appointment as Dragon Keeper, Arcturus had gotten to know Henry quite well. More than he had any of his previous Keepers. And the boy had not raised his hand against Arcturus. Not once.

He had a good heart.

Surprising, given the upbringing Arcturus had come to expect of the Order. But such was the passage of time for humans. Death came knocking, and new generations replaced the old, removed from the reasons for their ideologies. And so cultures change. Such a thing was obvious to someone with a longer lifespan, such as Arcturus. But anyone who’s studied history can come to the same conclusion. 

From what Henry had told him during their visits, it was pure luck which resulted in his appointment. He was one of many apprenticed wizards, never even set his sights on Dragon Keeper. But when Lars fell ill, the Order drew lots among the apprentices. It was clear by their actions they did not understand what sort of person was expected to be a Dragon Keeper.

In a way, Arcturus pitied Henry as much as Henry seemed to pity Arcturus. The boy was a black swan among his predecessors. It was only a matter of time before one of the more rigid members noticed his milder disposition. 

So the first thing on Arcturus’ mind when Henry entered the cavern, long before the day had elapsed, was that the Order had discovered what was happening.

“What are you doing here?” Arcturus asked softly.

The boy hesitated, the golden light floating above his hand flickering briefly before stabilizing. He’d gotten better at keeping his magic from reacting to his emotions under Arcturus’ guidance, but he still had far to go. “An earthquake has struck the valley,” he said, “I was sent to make sure you haven’t caused it.”

Arcturus snorted, wisps of smoke puffing from his nostrils. “These chains greatly hamper my magic. I might be able to shake my cavern, but not the entire valley to such magnitude. You know this. Why are you really here?”

Henry was silent for a long time. Far away, deep in the valley, the earthquake continued. The vibrations reaching Arcturus’ prison were pitiful, but it must truly be devastating if he could sense it even at this distance.

“I’ve decided,” the boy finally said, his light brightening, “that we are leaving.”

Arcturus blinked in surprise. “Leaving? We?!” It had been a long, long time since he’d been rendered nearly speechless from shock.

“Yes,” was Henry's response before he crossed the cavern, purpose in his stride. Arcturus watched him carefully. Was this some sort of trick? As the thought crossed his mind, Henry reached Arcturus and put his hands on the chains. He murmured the words to a disintegration spell, one Arcturus hadn’t heard in many, many years.

As the chain crumbled into dust, it glowed with electricity, a last-ditch effort in case of escape. The pain that followed was like a thousand sharp needles digging underneath Arcturus’ scales, burning across his body like wildfire. His muscles spasmed, and he could only watch as Henry crumpled to the floor, shaking and thrashing, the scent of burning flesh heavy in the air.

The shock passed as soon as it had begun, and Arcturus lay limp, focusing on his breathing and trying to remember the spells for healing. The chains were designed specifically for him, they would have released enough electricity to incapacitate him.

The boy had taken most of the bolt upon himself. He wouldn’t survive without intervention. 

And Arcturus would rather spend an eternity imprisoned than do nothing for the first human he ever considered a friend. The words of a healing spell fell from his lips as he struggled to get off the ground. The magic flowed around Henry, mending the damaged skin of his hands and sinking into his body. His muscles relaxed, and his breathing eased as the magic put him into a healing sleep. When he awoke, his memory would be the only thing remaining of the injury.

Arcturus didn’t dare do the same for himself. With Henry now incapacitated, it was up to him to get them both out. He gently picked up the boy in one of his claws and, for the first time in decades, walked along the tunnel to the outside world.

It was snowing, the tiny frozen droplets cold against his scales. Far below, the grove in the valley shook, still affected by the earthquake. Arcturus breathed the freezing air in for several moments before setting his sights south and spreading his wings to their full span.

How good it felt to finally stretch them out after all these years! He doubted he would get very far on them, weak as they were, but it would be far enough. The Order would never find them again.

“Don’t worry, Henry,” he said softly to the sleeping boy, “we’re going home.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[shadowbends]

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)

Hello again, cultured turtle fans! Do you enjoy good fanfic? Hopefully so, because I’m back with more recs! Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!

This rec list is the second of three and focuses on short stories in the fandom, with a length between 5,000 and 15,000 words each. Much like a stuffed crust pizza, they’re the perfect option when you’re feeling for something indulgent, but don’t want to go all out. If you want to browse a little more though, feel free to check out the other lists below!

NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS)

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS) — You’re here!

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)

If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.

Now, let’s get to the recs. Bon appétit!

➤ ➤ ➤ PRE-SERIES

The Corner Store by KicsterAsh

12,790 words, 5/5 chapters

Character Focus: Raphael & his brothers, w/ Splinter coming in later

Genre: Fluff, Adventure

“I know what I’m spending my three dollars on,” Raph said. He and Donnie dragged Leo to the machine, which was near the front desk of the store, and sat him down against the wall. “Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep,” Raph said to his other siblings, before rushing to the front desk.

The man, who had been watching them since they dragged Leo into view, looked at the turtle as he ran over. Raph tried ignoring that he noticed this and only looked back once he had reached the counter, where his chin just reached over the top.

“Hello, Mister,” Raph said as politely as he could in his urgency. “How much is a small cup of hot chocolate?”

The man pushed up his glasses and looked at the machine. “It’s two dollars and seventy-five cents after tax,” he said.

“I dunno what tax is, but here.” Raph slapped three dollars down on the counter and then pointed at the machine. “Can you show me how to pour one, please? I’ve never done it before.”

I have such a soft spot for this fic; it was one of the first I ever read for the fandom, and it has the perfect blend of adorable turtle tot hijinks with just enough risk involved to make you concerned and keep the story gripping. To summarize the premise: Splinter lets the boys play topside in the snow while he scavenges for food and supplies, but is gone longer than anticipated. As the hours pass and the temperature drops, a young Raphael decides to break the rules and seek out human shelter to keep his brothers from freezing. All of the turtles’ budding personalities shine through in this story, but good older brother Raph is especially a treat here.

Lost and Found (Family) by ashtreelane

7,007 words, 2/2 chapters

Character Focus: April & Michelangelo, April & The Family

Genre: Fluff, Adventure

"Wow!" April says, her eyes wide with fascination. "Are you some sort of…turtle alien?"

"Yeah! Well- not the alien part, but I am a turtle!“

"So how can you talk?" April asks, leaning in to peek into Mikey's head hole. Her voice echoes slightly in the shell.

"Cause I'm not allllll turtle, duh!" Mikey says, smiling. "Our dad doesn't really like to talk about it, but he says that we’re the product of parental love and ‘unholy sorcery’!

"Oh wow! That’s way more interesting than how I got born!"

After being left behind on a field trip and struggling to find a way home, a young April finds someone just as lost as herself. A charming little story that tells how April met the turtles for the first time.

responsibility by TheWhitesOfYourEyes

11,733 words, 4/5 chapters (last updated 11/07/21)

Character Focus: Splinter & his kids

Genre: Character Study, Family Drama

Hamato Yoshi never wanted kids.

In fact, he found the very idea sickening. The thought of having to care for another life shook him to the core, reminded him of responsibility and clans and forgotten family. Whenever his longest lasting girlfriend (before she turned out to be a giant spider) would tuck a strand of white hair behind her ear and mention the idea of children, sheepishly, a sly grin on her face, he would sputter and make an excuse, change topics, find a way to get out of the situation. Once, drunk, he’d even puked.

The Hamato clan would end with him, he’d decided as a child as he watched his mother disappear into a haze.

And yet life, as always, throws the most vicious of curveballs as he retreats from the crumbling lab with four bundles in his arms and hair sprouting from his legs.

So we can all agree Splinter’s been through some <i>shit</i>, right? Well, this fic decides to unpack all of that, from the loss of his mother, his many one-night-stands and the betrayal of Big Mama, being type-cast as an actor, to his painful mutation and more. The early challenges of fatherhood are where this fic truly shines, though. While it may be incomplete, these four chapters stand well on their own and make for a compelling read.

warmly in the dark by bobtheacorn

8,923 words, 4/? chapters (last updated 10/23/2022)

Character Focus: Donatello & Leonardo, Ensemble

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort

"You want the lights off, too? Donnie?”

He realizes Donnie probably can't hear him around the headphones and reaches in to lift one of them, repeating the question.

Donnie hums.

"Want some mood music?”

Donnie hums a negative.

"Okay okay, last question, I promise. I'm gonna get my Jupiter Jim comics - want me to read them outloud? I'll do the cool voices!"

Another negative.

"Boooo," Leo says.

Just some vignettes about Leo and Donnie growing up together over the years and looking out for each other. Chapter 3 is set when they’re teenagers, but everything else has been set during their younger years, hence its placement in this category. Each chapter can stand well on its own, and there’s a nice mix of humor and feelings all around.

➤ ➤ ➤ NEBULOUS TIME

Feel the Colors in Between by GalacticDreamer

9,520 words, 1/1 chapters

Character Focus: Leonardo & ???, Ensemble

Genre: Suspense, Whump

They’re asking what he is talking about. But what kind of question is that? They’re playing hide and seek, wasn’t that obvious? And Lemon-Lime was being too loud, which could get them found by the person who’s ‘It’, which was the pure opposite of the point of hide and seek.

He tells them such. He tries to explain it all to them to the point that he is running out of breath. But they’re still not getting it. He knows they’re not getting it. But how could Lemon-Lime not, when they were hiding with him in the first place? Instead, they’re asking something else that should be known:

Who is ‘It’?

The world becomes brighter, free of its shadows. The wall in front of them is no longer where it used to be. In its place stands a large, snake-like figure towering over them, blindingly white save for the drifting, purplish, prisms that make up their clothes. Hundreds upon thousands of diamond prisms are embedded into their skin, shifting and melding together before reforming their individual shapes in a never ending cycle as waves of rainbow pulse across their entire body.

They’re familiar. He knows them. They’re ‘It’, he’s certain of it, just as much as he’s certain that the feeling inside of him is disappointment as he tells Lemon-Lime they just lost the game.

Leo plays a deadly game of hide and seek while on an acid trip from hell. Not that he’s aware of that—he’s having a pretty good time. And if he can’t remember who or where he is, much less what he’s lost? It’ll be fine, probably. Don’t worry about it. :)

Freezerburn by ashtreelane

8,225 words, 2/2 chapters

Character Focus: Michelangelo & Family

Genre: Angst, Medical Drama, Hurt/Comfort

Leo kneels down, grabbing his brother's wrist, pressing his fingers into the soft skin.

It's still. The room is quiet as he searches.

He can't feel it.

He can't feel his pulse. His heart isn't beating. His baby brother's heart isn't beating.

He hears his breath hitch, he knows his expression must be terrifying.

"Leo." Raph says, his voice pitching up in panic. "Leo, please, please."

Leo doesn't know what he's begging for. Maybe just for Leo not to say it.

Things I didn’t know until I read this fic: box turtles can be frozen alive but still survive, even if their heart stops. Too bad Mikey’s brothers don’t know that! This fic is mean, but an absolute delight if you enjoy your angst with a hope spot.

the kids aren’t alright by Werepirechick

8,710 words, 2/2 chapters

Character Focus: Michelangelo & April, Draxum & The Turtles

Genre: AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“How badly did you want her to escape?” Donnie asks in a quiet mumble, eyes fixed elsewhere. “Badly enough for this? To risk-?”

“Yes,” Mikey says without hesitation.

That makes Donnie stutter, mouth twisting in a scowl. He recovers, hissing, “It’s inevitable, Mikey. Draxum is going to beat humanity, and we’re going to help him, this setback is just that. A setback. We’ll get the carriers back, or- or make more, and it will happen. You’ve just prolonged it all, this didn’t change anything.”

“It changed things for her!” Mikey snaps without meaning to. Donnie glares, but he doesn’t cower. “…It changed things for her,” he repeats, calmer.

An AU where Draxum raised the turtles, after capturing them five years after the lab accident. How loyal they are to him varies, however, which comes to a head when a certain human wanders into their base looking for her new pet... All around, this is a great read—I only wish it were a little longer.

Of Soft Shells and Little Brothers by ihaveathingforpink

6,717 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Donatello & Leonardo, w/ Mayhem

Genre: Action, Hurt/Comfort

“Leo,” Don pushed, voice a rare gentle tone.

Leo glanced at him but said nothing. He seemed almost determined to remain stubbornly silent, and a dark thought crossed Donnie’s mind.

“Leo, why’d you offer to stay back with me?”

Leo shrugged and replied, “Because whatever you were finishing sounded important to you, and Pops wouldn’t have let you stay behind by yourself, and Raph and Mikey have been looking forward to this for weeks. So I volunteered. Why’d you ask?”

When Mayhem goes missing one Thanksgiving when April’s trapped by family and can’t get out of the house, Donnie volunteers to find him. To his surprise, Leo comes as well. What follows is one hell of a chase scene and a look into the two brothers’ relationship; the kind of reflection only acts of extreme violence can bring out. 

Side Character by technofantasia

5,775 words, 1/1 chapters

Character Focus: Leonardo & Donatello (Leo-centric)

Genre: Character Study, Hurt/Comfort

He wasn't lying when he said he queued this up on a whim, even though it felt like a lie saying it. It really is just that he hasn't seen it in a while! Too long. It always used to be his comfort movie, so that kind of gap of time between viewings is just unbelievable.

…Though, watching it now, with the experience of one-and-a-half-or-maybe-two years under his belt (and the craziest one-and-a-half-or-maybe-two years of his life, at that), he's a bit startled to realize that it isn't quite as comforting as he remembers. He's noticing some things about it he never noticed before, like, well…

Well. The fact that it seems kind of bad, and it's suddenly really hard to like it.

JJ films are always cheesy, that's just a fact of life. What else could you expect from low budget sci-fi made in the mid-20th century? They're cheesy, and wacky, and Leo loves cheesy and wacky, he really does! But he's only now noticing that this film in particular is maybe a little bit too cheesy and wacky. Even though it's obviously trying to be a cool, epic adventure, half the lines are just lame jokes that ruin the atmosphere, and that's not even mentioning how the plot is completely unbelievable, and all because of how weirdly annoying…

…Anyway.

Unable to sleep, Leo decides to watch one of his old favorite movies, but it doesn’t hold up as well as he remembers. Honestly what’s really impressive about this fic, though, is how it showcases elements of Leo’s personality that don’t get addressed in canon until the Rise Movie—despite being written well before its release! The Jupiter Jim film Leo and Donnie watch in the fic is such a perfect mirror for the Krang invasion that I had to check the post date twice, but no, it really pre-dates it. Parts of this story get blisteringly intense, but it’s a great character study delving into Leo’s insecurities, balanced by love and support at the end. A very good read.

➤ ➤ ➤ SEASON 2 (SET DURING OR AFTER)

Culture Shock by JustAndrea

8,486 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Splinter & The Boys

Genre: Family Bonding

“What are you doing?”

Raph flinched, surprised to see his dad in the doorway, though not embarrassed at all at being caught in the middle of his lessons. “Oh, hey Pop! Or- kon'ni chee-wa, otōsan.”

Splinter blinked. “Uh, konnichiwa to you as well, Red. So, you are… learning Japanese?”

“Yeah!” Raph grinned, “I mean, I just started a couple weeks ago so I still got a ways to go, but I think I’m startin’ to get the basics down! Hmph, though, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to write it for a while.”

Splinter chuckled a little. “Hiragana and katakana are not so bad. Now kanji? That is when it can get complicated.”

Raph gave him an incredulous look. “There’s more than one way to write it?!”

Set after the Season 2 finale and with thoughts of family history on the mind, the boys take an interest in their cultural heritage. Splinter gains a new appreciation for how meaningful that can be. This is a sweet fic that’s perfect for anyone who craves content where everyone grows closer as a family.

Happiness is a Warm Puppy by JustAndrea

8,567 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Raphael & Michelangelo, w/ Todd

Genre: Fluff, Family Bonding

“Ugh...“ Raph pinched the bridge of his nose while Mikey just giggled. He could already tell that Mikey wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Still, he had to at least try. “Mike, I already told you, I’m just a little tired. I don’t need a special break or anything-”

“Who says you have to need it?” Mikey said simply, dropping all amusement, “Can’t you just enjoy it?” Raph huffed, but didn’t give an answer, instead choosing to look down at the silver wrapper still in his hand.

Leaning forward, Mikey put his hand over his brother’s. “Like you said, things have been rough. This whole situation is just… a lot. But we’ve all been working hard to move through it, especially you! Don’t you think that work deserves a reward?”

Post-S2 Finale, Mikey decides Raph really needs a break after all that stress. What better way to relax than to play with a swarm of puppies and some one-on-one time between the biggest and littlest bros? This fic is a fluffy bonding experience, with cameos from Todd that gave me a good laugh. 

salvageable by bobtheacorn

6,038 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Donatello & Family

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor

It was Donnie's idea to come scavenge for all of his broken (useless) tech, but now he's just standing here staring at the scattered vestiges of what is essentially his life's work. All the time designing and building weapons, and for what?

The Shredder tore through all of it like paper.

(See, he is the funny one.)

Set early in Season 2 after “Many Unhappy Returns”, Donatello throws himself into working on his damaged tech to stave off confronting how affected by the fight he really is. This obviously works perfectly, zero complications. Just ignore the panic attack. 

Sr. Hueso, After Hours by obsessedwithstardust

7,616 words, 5/5 chapters

Character Focus: Señor Hueso & Leonardo, Ensemble

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

“What about… a dishwasher?”

“I have an automated one that does the job very well.”

“Oh c’mon BM, you know what I mean!”

“Pepino, while I appreciate the sentiment, most of my guests prefer their glasses in one piece. You’ll find they are more effective that way.”

“That’s just rude! I do the dishes at home all the time!”

Hueso maintained his flat stare.

“Okay, some of the time.”

“Hm.”

“Fine! Very, very rarely. But that’s just ‘cause I hate chores, not ‘cause I break them!”

Confession: I love Señor Hueso, he might just be my favorite of the many new characters Rise introduced to the franchise. Imagine my delight, then, when I found this little gem! It’s a charming 4+1 setup featuring Hueso being forced to deal with Leo’s antics until the young turtle grows on him.

superfight by swordfright

11,719 words, 3/3 chapters

Character Focus: Leonardo & Donatello, Donatello & Raphael, Ensemble

Genre: Humor, Family Drama, Angst

“Prepare to meet your ĐǿƠ𝓜, brother.”

The rest of his family looked up.

“Pfffft.” Leonardo rested his chin in his hands. “As if anything you come up with is gonna beat former U.S. President Fillard Milmore and his bumblebeard, let alone me .”

“Millard Filmore,” Donnie corrected. “And honestly, Leon, you ought to cease running your mouth, lest it catch flies~!”

Leo glared. “Alright, that’s enough theatrics. Lay your cards down and we’ll see who the real winner is.”

Donnie laid down his cards.

“See, the thing is,” he said, smugness oozing from his voice, “I agree: I really can’t beat you, Leo. No one can. And that’s why I win.”

Set after the quartet of “Tales of the Hidden City” episodes, this fic is actually more of a response to “Lair Games”—namely, how hard Donnie’s had to struggle to catch up with his brothers, combined with Leo’s propensity to be a poor loser. It’s not all drama, though. The first two chapters are mostly humor-focused, with some incredibly strong dialogue that had me hooting. It’s also not angst for the sake of angst—I really loved where both boys end this fic at emotionally. 

➤ ➤ ➤ POST-MOVIE

Aftermath by ItsJustKade

9,195 words, 3/? chapters (last updated 10/07/2022)

Character Focus: The Boys, Ensemble

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Action

“That’s what this is about?” Hypno asked, standing up and dusting himself off, “Aw geez, I didn’t mean to bring up old wounds. I was just trying to rob a bank. You know, low-grade villian stuff!”

The four looked at Hypno, a little dumb struck. Donnie spoke up. “What?”

“I mean, we all went through quite a lot with the alien attack, especially you guys. I thought something light and non-threatening like robbing a bank could get us all back on our feet.” Hypno explained, waving a cloth and somehow making a circular table appear, the cloth acting as a tablecloth. Out of thin air, Hypno pulled out five stools and set them up by the table, then somehow grabbed a teapot and teacups and set them up too. “Tea?” He began pouring.

There are a lot of fics out there tackling how the turtles work through everything the movie put them through, but this one sets itself apart by how episodic it is. I mean that in a good way. There’s continuity between all the chapters, but each one has a different setup and focuses on a different problem. Each of the boys are fully fleshed out here, and there’s some fun cameos. Like Hypno!

bad blud by bigdamnher0

9,051 words, 3/3 chapters

Character Focus: Leonardo & Donatello, Ensemble

Genre: Supernatural, Hurt/Comfort

The bracelets were haunted—that, or turning 18 had unlocked a whole new meaning to the phrase “twin telepathy.” They entered rooms together, poured milk into each other’s cereal bowls, finished each other’s sentences, which meant the arguments never really ended; they only paused indefinitely until one of them realized they weren’t arguing out loud.

The yokai who sold Leo the bracelets said they amplified strong threads between siblings or friends or lovers; the kind of rare ties only lucky people had. You look the type, she said, and what else could Leo say to that? (The bracelets were also discounted for AAPI month, but Donnie didn’t need to know.)

Ohhh, this fic is an absolute treat. There’s not a lot of fic out there that play with Rise’s mystic elements, which is a shame because it’s one of the strengths of the series. Imagine my delight, then, when I first found this gem and its vivid portrayal of cursed baubles and yokai folklore. It’s a lovely package for the emotional focus of the story, which centers on Donatello and Leonardo growing older and growing apart, and the uncertainty of where that leaves them. This is a must-read.

Cracked Shield by JustAndrea

8,094 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Raphael & Splinter, Raphael & Leonardo

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

“...I think I might be a bad older brother.”

“Nonsense.” Splinter reached across the table, squeezing his eldest son’s hand. “You are no such thing, Red One. You are selfless, kind-hearted, protective, and far more patient than most. You are far from being a bad older brother.”

“Hmph.” Raph still kept his eyes locked on the old wooden table they were sitting at, his father’s compliments just bouncing off him. “Alright, then I’m a bad influence.”

For a long time, Raph has built his identity on being the oldest—the protector who would do anything for the sake of his little brothers. He has a harder time accepting them doing the same for him, though. How do you deal with that?

decompress by Tenka

13,254 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Leonardo & Family

Genre: Humor, Family Bonding, Hurt/Comfort

"I do not want to be in your brain," Leo says, poking at Donnie’s forehead, who swats his hand away. "What am I gonna do if you start on one of your nerd rants? I'm not gonna be able to run away from my own head."

"Wow thanks Leo, and now that I think about it, melding my mind with yours would probably only decrease my overall IQ, and we'd all die the moment we'd have to perform basic arithmetic."

"I would love to have a session with Dr. Delicate Touch and the both of you," Mikey says, serenely, and Donnie and Leo both wisely scoot away from Mikey and closer to each other for safety. "A mind meld would mean no escape for either of you."

"Maintain eye contact, and make slow, careful movements," Leo warns, grabbing Donnie and clinging to him with his one good arm. "Never turn your shell on him."

"Heeey," Donnie says, clinging back to Leo. "How about. Instead of Dr. Delicate Touch. We have a chat with literally anyone else. Like. Dr. Feelings…?"

"Oh!" Mikey says, snapping his fingers. "That's a great idea and you just reminded me. Leo! Let's talk."

In terms of emotional catharsis, this might be one of my very favorites for the Rise fandom. Leo may be the focus character here, but the rest of the family gets a strong showing with top-notch dialogue and meaningful moments. There’s a section where Raph and Leo try a mind meld, and no joke, my heart was so full I cried. Other features of this fic: well-intentioned sibling hijinks with Mikey and Donnie with the kind of banter that could be taken from the show, as well as a thoughtful heart-to-heart with Casey. And don’t even get me started on Splinter’s section; that made me cry again. Twice, with this fic! As for Leo himself? I don’t say this lightly (because there’s SO many good fics out there tackling this subject), but this might be one of the most satisfying portrayals of how he comes to confront his mistakes and trauma. Honestly I could gush for days about this fic, I can’t recommend it enough. 

How to spruce up your lair in 10 easy steps! by bigdamnher0

7,776 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: The Hamato Family

Genre: Family Bonding, Hurt/Comfort

On the news, New York was rebuilding. Why couldn’t they do the same? And when was the last time they showed the lair a little love?

“Far too long,” Donnie agreed, his first words after weeks; the whole family went quiet to fish-gape at him. Post-Kraang, the adrenaline swirled out of his system and Donnie had clammed up. Nothing but the mechanical churr from his lab for days. "What?” He blinked. “Well? What are we working with here?”

Raph cleared his throat. "Guys?"

Splinter raised his hand.

“Dad, I cannot replicate your favorite Hollywood suite," Donnie said blearily. "If you haven’t noticed, we live in a sewer. I cannot build you a veranda with a lake view."

Huffing, Splinter lowered his arm.

The family copes with the aftermath of the invasion with some home renovation! It goes about as well as you’d expect, and may or may not be a metaphor for how not well they’re dealing with it. Strong hurt/comfort, with a healthy dash of hijinks. 

I Can’t Lose You Again by Sparklepool101

8,258 words, 3/4 chapters (last updated 10/17/2022)

Character Focus: Michelangelo & Family

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

He went to grab the sandwich, but pulled his hand back the second he touched the bread, taking in a sharp breath.

It hurt. Like pins and needles, but worse. Almost like electricity. It spread along his hands, up his arms. Pulling them close to his chest, Mikey winced, feeling the tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes. His toes curled up and he bent down, hunching over his lap.

“Mikey? Mikey, you okay?”

“Orange, what’s wrong?”

“Master Michelangelo?”

He couldn’t answer, couldn’t say anything, too focused on trying not to cry.

Some Mikey-centered fallout content post-movie, which sees him with some growing separation anxiety after what happened to his brothers, as well as chronic pain from the consequences of opening the portal. The sunshine boy’s really going through it in this one.

Secondary Colors by NotMichelangelo

10,248 words, 5/8 chapters (last updated 09/10/2022)

Character Focus: Donatello & Michelangelo, Ensemble

Genre: Action, Fluff, Angst

“Say, ‘Angelo,” The soft-shell started slowly, “What if we… What if we did a solo mission?”

Mikey’s eyes widened. “You mean, like, just you and me?” Donatello nodded.

“Think about it. You feel like you have something to prove, which is unnecessary but your feelings are acknowledged nonetheless, and I feel like I… Also have something to prove. If we can beat these guys, just the two of us, we’ll have nothing else to prove to ourselves, right?”

About time we reached some adventures with the B-Team! Feeling some inferiority to their brothers, as well as frustration for how overprotective they’ve become, Donnie and Mikey set out to show they can manage things on their own—only to find this isn’t just a simple robbery, and that they may have bitten off a little more than they can chew.

Trepverter by ATrueDonaldist

11,726 words, 4/? chapters (last updated 09/11/2022)

Character Focus: Leonardo & Family, Ensemble

Genre: AU, Angst, Sci-Fi

"Sensei, are you okay? You went still for a moment," the boy noted softly, eyebrows furrowing together in concern. His clothing left much to be desired as well, consisting of brown rags and mismatched patches of colour and thread, each equally covered in dust from the wind.

Leo opened his mouth to ask who he was, where they were, but something else left his mouth entirely.

"I'm alright, Casey. Just tired after scouting.”

His right hand (he didn’t move it, he wasn’t moving it, he wasn’t in control,) reached out to pat the boy—Casey, it seemed—gently on the shoulder.

There was almost a detached amount of horrified interest as Leo watched his arm reach out. Or rather, watched not his arm, but… Raph’s arm?

Figuring out which category to put this fic in was a struggle. Technically it’s set weeks before the movie is set—though it’s plot will surely see it catch up to the events of the invasion—yet huge, important sections of it detail the events of the apocalypse timeline, and— WELL. Can you see my struggle?? Even so, this fic has a intriguing setup, and is well worth the investment. The premise? Long before things are meant to go wrong, Leo starts to experience his future self’s memories and has no idea what to make of it. These memories become harder and harder to dismiss, but it’s unclear what they mean just yet, or what changes will come about as a result. 

➤ ➤ ➤ APOCALYPSE TIMELINE

Echoes of What Never Was by SairenHaria

10,662 words, 2/? chapters (last updated 09/01/2022)

Character Focus: Ensemble (focus varies by chapter)

Genre: Angst, Action

"Greetings, you rebellious insects. I have a special show for you today," Kraang said to the camera.

Of course Kraang understood how to demoralize people, he was too smug to not know-

"It seems one of your leaders finally came out of his shell," he said, the cameras moving to focus on Donatello, and he hated how he saw fear on his face. He hoped that it wasn't so clear to everyone else, that the wideness of his eyes, the clench of his jaw seems more like determination than terror.

His family would know the truth though.

"It was quite the plan he had to try and hurt the Kraang. A virus to disrupt our systems. I'll admit, I didn't expect any of you to be smart enough to figure out how to do that," Kraang said coolly and pulled up Jeremy's body. "Would you like to tell them what you did, hero? The cost of your little program?"

Donnie looked at Kraang. Then at the camera. He still had his plan. He still had his plan.

This is another one of those fics where each chapter stands fairly well on its own. I don’t know if the author intends to continue it, but the first chapter alone dug its hooks in me with its tale of Donatello’s last stand—and his farewell to Leo, Mikey, and April. It pumped me up and broke my heart all in one go; that alone would be enough to get it on this list, but the second chapter is fairly strong as well, detailing the family’s first encounter with the Krang, in the timeline where Casey wasn’t there to assist, and haha, it hurts. But in the best of ways.

Perfectly Similar by TheArchaeologist

6,683 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Leonardo & Michelangelo, Ensemble

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“So, what’d he do? Help dye Shelldon’s hair behind you back? Switched your toothpaste with glue?”

“Leo.” Donnie-boy says again, this time with the kind of exhaustion usually reserved for post-battle failed surgery. Turning to look at him, Don’s face is ragged, haunted, too much like... when Dad died.

Sitting up properly, Leo regards him. “Don?”

“He-” Cutting himself off, that deep-set anger returning to Donnie’s eyes. After a moment, he huffs, though it’s closer to a snarl, and flings his hands into the air. “It’s all this stupid mystic bullshit! We never should’ve gotten involved with it. We were fine before, and now-”

“Donnie. What’s he done?”

“It’s what he wants to do that’s the problem.”

The idea to use a timegate comes long before we see Michelangelo use it in the movie—long before the end. In the face of that, Leo makes him a deal. A nice look on the history of the bad timeline, and who else was lost long before the turtles were reduced to a duo. 

Posted: 10/27/2022

[theminecraftbee]

so talking to someone made me realize that i hadn’t actually explained what bdubs’s deal is and why he’s coms on team scar, so...

as mentioned, as the wishing star gets closer and the spirits are free longer, more and more civilians gain the ability to do minor magic. most of them never even realize this, some of them start using it, and some of them... don’t get a choice. bdubs is in that last category; whenever the moon is out, bdubs starts seeing visions of events and getting knowledge of the world. this is very frustrating, because it means he can no longer sleep through the night, making him perpetually a little exhausted and irritable.

thanks to this, he figures out who scar actually is pretty quick, as well as cub. and he’s like. wow. they get cool magical battle powers and he gets THIS STINKING NONSENSE. so he decides to get their phone number to try to give them a piece of his mind. notably, he never considers more effective revenge, like ‘leak those names or phone numbers to the press’, who by the time bdubs joins team scar are following every move of team scar. they may be famously anonymous vigilantes who’s lives would be ruined by bdubs leaking their information, but consider: bdubs doesn’t actually want to ruin their lives, just stop them from sleeping through calling them whenever bdubs is woken up by a vision. there’s a difference.

(later, to bdubs’s chagrin, he’ll learn that scar and cub never get enough sleep anyway. it comes with being superheroes. dangit.)

before he can go through with his dastardly plan, however, he has a vision of the shadow organization actually managing to capture scar, and what would happen if they managed that. bdubs panics. he uses the phone numbers he ferreted out and shouts them through averting his vision. he’s, uh, not the most QUIET comms guy, but he’s better at coordinating them than anyone would have anticipated, and he does get them out of getting disappeared by a shadowy organization, so.

he goes to sleep to get what sleep he can and wakes up to them having figured out where he lived because his phone is still listed in a public phone book, a thing bdubs didn’t even realize still existed. that would have made finding their contacts SO MUCH EASIER. scar and cub are like. yo you’re really cool do you want to help us. and bdubs is like. can you help me sleep. and they just laugh at him. (once again: they don’t sleep either.)

he joins up with them anyway. he doesn’t regret it. he’s the shoutiest comms guy in the history of comms. he doesn’t fight much, even once he gets his own magical girl transformation, because he’s more a communications and warnings kind of guy. when he does fight, though, he ironically picks up an attack that makes whoever’s hit with it sleep. it doesn’t work on himself. he does eventually learn to control his magic better and sleep through the night, at least.

[widowbitessting]

Is it too early in the fic for me to be hoping she gets sick from being out in the cold rain and the girls have to take care of her? I’m loving sugar mommies! Could I be added to the tag list please?

Wow this turned out to be longer than I first anticipated!! I’d say this is set a year or so after their first meet. 

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. Some typos and cruddy writing but that’s it

Word Count: 2122! 

Thanks for the ask! Hope this is okay for you! 💋

Poorly Baby (SMU)

Submit a Prompt or an Ask about the Sugar Mommies Universe and I’ll write something for you!

💋    💋    💋    💋

You flop unceremoniously onto the sofa, dragging the large fluffy blanket over your soaking wet body and just lie there. Your book bag lies in a wet heap on the floor besides your uncovered feet.

Fuck. Will you ever learn to take a coat or an umbrella out with you to class? The short answer is: no, probably not. Only this time, Carol didn’t come to your rescue and you had to walk home in just a sweatshirt and leggings with shoes on your feet that are defiantly not 100% waterproof, despite what the bloke at the shoe shop had told you. 

And to make things worse? You’re sure you’re getting sick from the rain. 

From somewhere in the penthouse, you can hear Wanda singing to herself and it makes you smile, despite how crappy you feel. You fall asleep listening to her voice. 

💋

When Wanda walks into the front room, she’s humming under her breath and tapping out a quick text to the group chat. No one replies instantly which makes her tut.

“Where the hell is everyone?”

Her phone buzzes and Wanda quickly looks down.

NattyBear: Be back soon, bunny! Carol’s driving xx

Wands: Okaaaay, is Y/N with you?

It doesn’t take Natasha long to reply. 

NattyBear: No, her class should have finished by now, ring her? Xx

Wanda does just that; hitting your number and lifting her phone to her ear. God, she’s misses your voice. 

Only, she’s sure she can hear buzzing coming from somewhere nearby. 

“What the…”

She finds your phone in your hand and your face squished - in her option, very cutely - against the couch cushions with the massive blanket draped over you in a pile.

Wanda takes a picture and sends it to the group chat, tagging it as: Found our sleeping beauty!♥️

She moves the blanket off your face so you don’t suffocate when her fingers trail over your forehead. She immediately presses her hand down to feel your temperature, your clammy skin hot against hers.

“Oh God.”

Wanda rips the blanket off your body and sees your damp clothes. She resists the urge to roll her eyes yet lets out a small huff from her nose.

“Detka.” She whispers, pressing her hand on your cheek now. “Detka, wake up for me.”

You shuffle, nose wrinkling as you’re brought out of your slumber.

“Don’t wanna…” You sigh, snuggling in on yourself.

“I need to move you.” Wanda presses a kiss to your temple.

You slowly open your eyes and smile groggily up at her.

“Hi.”

“Hello there darling.” Wanda smiles down at you. “Did you forget your coat again?”

You nod pitifully, sticking your bottom lip out.

“The rain crept up on me.”

Wand huffs out a laugh, leaning down to peck your nose.

“Did it jump out and attack you, detka?”

You nod, reaching your arms out to her.

“Carry me, mommy?”

Wanda’s eyes darken at her name before she shakes her head.

“Clever girl, using my name against me. C’mere.”

Wanda lifts your trembling body from the sofa and after a second to readjust you, she carries you bridal style to the bedroom on the second floor. As the two of you go, you nearly end up coughing a lung; weakly resting your pounding head on Wanda’s shoulder once you’ve finished. She mutters sweet nothings to you as she climbs the stairs, your dead weight proving to not be an issue with her iron grasp that she has around you. 

When Wanda sets you down on the luscious duvet, she immediately tells you to strip down, kissing you chastely before disappearing into the bathroom to go and run you a bath. Wanda adds a generous amount of her personal supply of bubble bath and sends a text to Natasha. 

Wands: Y/N is sick. Can you bring some supplies with you before you come home? I love you xo

She quickly clicks on Natasha’s other reply to the group chat, seeing her heart the picture of you; her reply underneath saying: God she’s so fucking cute x

Smiling, Wanda puts her phone back in her pocket and checks the bath, returning back to you, where you’ve given up part way through pulling your soggy sweatshirt over your head. You’re lying on the bed, face and arms covered by your sweatshirt, legs dangling off the side of the bed. Wanda tilts her head and crinkles her nose as she smiles, swearing to herself that she can hear little snores coming from you. 

“Silly girl.” She mutters, walking over to you. She can now see just how wet you are and she makes a mental note to clip an umbrella to your bag pack, and to mother you about a coat every time you leave the house for the foreseeable future. 

Wanda removes your shoes first, grimacing at the state of them before moving onto your socks. When she takes your pants and underwear in one motion, she can’t help but plant a kiss to your hipbone with hopes it’ll wake you up - knowing and loving the sounds you make when she does - but you don’t stir. The only thing she gains are the goosebumps rising from your flesh. Your pants land with a wet thump on the floor. Wanda straddles you when she tries to gently remove your sweatshirt, shifting your body this way and that to try and pry it from you without disturbing you too much. 

You’re pretty much dead to the world. 

Your sweatshirt is deposited on the floor and next is the top you’re wearing, leaving you in just your bra that Wanda really has a time removing. When she finally manages to squeeze her arms behind your back, her fingers struggle to find the clasp and after a couple more times fruitlessly trying to locate it, Wanda drags her arms back, settling them either side of your head before sighing. 

She tries to front too but comes to no avail so decides on covering your chilled body with a towel and waking you up. 

“Baby, wake up.” She shakes you gently. “I’ve run you a bath, come on. It’ll warm you up.”

You sleepily swat at her. 

“No...” 

“Come on detka.” Wanda lifts you into a sitting position which forces your eyes to narrowly open, teeth beginning the chatter. “I even used my special bubble bath. Nat and Carol don’t even get to use it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, now come on.” 

“O-okay.” 

Wanda wraps her arms around you as you stand, kissing the side of your temple over and over while you slowly shuffle towards the bathroom. 

“S-should I be concerned that I’m partially stripped down?”

Wanda’s fingers tickle your sides. 

“Shut up.” She says. “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times before.” 

“Didn’t realise you were into somnophilia, Wands.” You mutter, letting her remove the towel once you’re in the bathroom. “You really need to consult me when you figure out new kinks.” 

“God, you’re incorrigible.” She laughs. “Now get in the bath before you keel over from hypothermia.” 

You get in the deliciously warm bath, muttering, “Screw this bra.” as you sink under the water with a loud sigh. 

Wanda settles beside the bath, dipping her fingers into the water to trail your thigh. 

“How are you feeling baby?” She asks. 

“I’ve felt better.” You reply, eyes drifting shut again. “I’m warmer though. Thank you for the bath, mommy.” 

“It’s my pleasure.” Wanda smiles. “Any excuse to see my detka in a bath.”

You smile and lean forward, smiling softly as you press your lips to hers. When you try to kiss her deeper, Wanda pulls back. 

“You’re sick, sweet girl. You need rest.” 

“No I’m not...” Your body it seems, proves otherwise, and you are quick to sit up as a cough rattles through you. You lie back once you’re done and bashfully look at Wanda. “I can rest after...” 

You pull her closer, smashing your lips back together and this time when you silently lick out with your tongue, Wanda opens your mouth to her. 

Things were going great until someone yanks Wanda away and laughs. 

“What you need baby girl, is a dominant with more willpower than Wanda here.” Carol says with a lopsided grin. Natasha walks into the bathroom, a carrier bag in hand. 

“Why do you still have a bra on?” 

You shrug, sinking back into the bath. 

“I never liked this bra much anyway.” You say. “Plus Wands couldn’t figure it out.” 

“The clasp at the front, baby.” Natasha laughs, passing the bag to Carol before kneeling besides the bath. Her hand reaches down to your chest where she effortlessly unclasps your bra and watches with delight as it falls from your chest, revealing you to them. 

“It wasn’t that hard, Wands.” Natasha smiles. Her hand moves to your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

“I feel okay. A bit cruddy.” 

“She didn’t take a coat again.” Wanda tells them. You glare at her.

“Traitor.” You mumble. 

“Payback for throwing me under the bus about your bra, detka.”

“Y/N, how many times do we have to keep telling you to take a coat.” Natasha frowns. 

“I’m sorry...” 

“Did you walk all the way here?” Carol asks, dropping the carrier bag to the floor and joining her partners beside the bath. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you get an Uber? Or the subway? Hell, you could have waited at class and we’d have picked you up!”

“I...I...” You sink lower into the bath, eyes downcast. “I was almost here when it started to rain and I tried to get a cab but this old lady was waiting for one too so I let her have mine...I’m really sorry guys. I am.”

Carol sighs and hold your hand to her lips, kissing your fingers a couple of times. 

“Let’s just focus on getting you better, okay? We can’t have a sick kitten on her birthday now, can we?”

At the mention of your birthday, your eyes lighten up. 

“Why? What do you have planned...?” 

“Nothing unless you get better.” 

“Fine, fine.” You say. “Do I at least get a hint?”

“No.” Carol says, reaching for a take out cup behind her. “But what you do get is a hot chocolate, a kiss and some cough medicine.” 

She hands you your drink, leans over to peck your lips and then digs through the bag to find the cough syrup Natasha picked out. You spy it over the rim of your cup and pull a face. 

“Don’t complain, baby. It was either that or leeches.” 

You can’t help but laugh. 

Carol fills the lid with the sticky goo and holds it near your mouth. 

“Come on, open up.” 

You pull a face.

“The sooner you take this, the sooner we can cuddle in bed with crap food and some good movies.” 

“Do I get to choose?” You ask, eyeing Natasha briefly as she begins to massage the foot closest to her. Wanda continues to trail her fingers over your thigh. 

“You take your medicine, yes.” Carol replies. 

You open your mouth and Carol pours the cough syrup straight in, grinning when you shudder as you swallow it. 

“Ugh, that stuff is disgusting!” 

“One more.” Carol says. This time, after you swallow the medicine, you submerge yourself fully into the bath before coming back up again. 

“Can you wash my hair for me? And then dry and brush it?” 

“You did that on purpose.” Natasha playfully slaps your foot. 

“I’m sick. I’m allowed.” 

“Are you now?” Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow. 

“Yep. I don’t make the rules.”

“Hmmm.” Natasha sets your foot back down. “How about while I wash your hair, Carol and Wanda set up the bedroom and make it all cosy for when we’re done?” 

“Okay!” 

“Yeah? Good.” Natasha rolls her sleeves up and grabs the shampoo bottle. Wanda and Carol stand and as they leave the room, you hear Carol say, “Don’t think I didn’t notice Y/N getting special treatment with your bubble bath.” before she slaps Wanda’s ass. The red head lets out a laugh and runs from the room, Carol right behind her. 

You try to watch them but Natasha pushes you back down into the bath. 

“Nu-uh. You wanted me to wash your hair.” 

From the other room you hear Wanda squeal and you presume Carol has caught her. Natasha begins to lather the shampoo onto your head and your eyes instantly roll shut. 

“Do my hair washing duties involve washing your body too?” 

💋

That night, you fall asleep content and happy; surrounded by Natasha, Wanda and Carol on the King size bed with one of your favourite films playing on the TV. 

Life is good. 

💋    💋    💋    💋

Tag List:

@fishlikestuff @spartanghost118 @ironsnowstorm @romeo-the-cactus @brutashafan @midnightreme @your-my-mission @trikruismybitch @bitxhinthecomments @messuhp @severepeanutartisanhands @8plasma @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @khiaraaa-in-spacee @madamevirgo @selluequestrian @kaitlynroseb @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @coollemonsaresour @pianogirl2121 @loomontoia @wandas-lover @cybeleceto @tomy5girls @starmako26 @claudiamyan @emilyprentisslittlewhore @vynia @cordeliaswhore @angelicl-y @ashadash0904 @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all @stuckyforliife @ktstudies @your-my-mission @tomy5girls @coollemonsaresour @khiaraaa-in-spacee @emilyprentisslittlewhore @umsolikeblog @angelicblackwolf @pianogirl2121 @upsidedowndanvers @anastasiabeaverhousen87 @wrennieee-blog-blog @spiderling-18 @madamevirgo @beforeoursecrets @8plasma @imdreamingblo@wandas-love @mmmmokdok @greydinosauregg @crazylittlereader2474 @thatonehippiefriend @midgardianweasley @battleg03 @sav06nat @marvelwomen-simp @ineedafinghug @suki-is-a-queen @wandanatblogs @wandanatstan @im-in-demilesbians-with-you @crispychaospanda @raqelacevedo @harmoni0527 @starmako26 @osterfield23 @wandanatblogs @ophelias-heart @natashafamdreams @osterfield23 @sweeterlust @adyadalia  @jemilyssecretlover @aleynaishere @jayxxace @smileyromanoff @ashadash0904 @scxpingdrms @amcg0615 @insomniac-delusions @yorkthelocksmith @emilyprentisslittlewhore @wandavixen @gay-ant @iwantwatermelonrn @marvelxdickinsonmarvelxdickinson @marvelwomen-simp @alianovnasworld @whhyyynottt @wandaswigglywoos-ish @lexi-2003-love @smallestavenger @mcu-churrio @fastlikealambo @luflufsstuff @birdie0101 @fabgronsky @insomniac-delusions @theheeheeman @idontknownemore @scxpingdrms @depression-desu @ashadash0904 @demonslayer06 @spookymomfriendtm @smromanoff @raqelacevedo @wandanatfan @simpforflorencepugh1 @s1ut4nat @d14n4ol @alianovnasworld @academiagaymess @natblidaclexa @childofsapph0 @mellxa @messuhp @valiantmugcowboyscissors @luflufsstuff @lorsstar1st @alianovnasworld @wandaswigglywoos-ish @itwas-neverreal @pianogirl2121 @itwas-neverreal @forever-a-diamond-bitch @sayah13 @scxrlett-wid0w @alianovnasworld @froufrousnowman @scarletwidow21 @robnicole @likefirenrain @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ejeiwbskqn @arin-swear-rose @aloaph @jjs-doll @mommysslutsworld @geico-insuranc @ashadash0904 @scxrlett-wid0w @sayah13 @froufrousnowman @anyilherrona @alianovnasworld @whhyyynottt @schuylersthelimit @tomy5girls @caylusromanoff @sadlesbitch @silver-lotus @milaackerman69 @onmykneesforwanda @imtrebleandsharp @alana-debnamcarey @comfy-mee @immathinkerg @simpforwandanat @alianovnasworld @luckypupsmama @sophiecala @shrekisloveshrekislifw @xoxolittledizzy @nattyswidow @mcu-romanoff @njavezan @laurenmaximoff @druggedduck @laylayb1106 @speedytimetravelgalaxy @snowdrop1026 @scarletts-future-wife @darling-dontforgetme @r4nd0mgir1 @heartsforlee

[tenelkadjowrites]

What Happens in a Blackout... - Hongjoong x Reader (NSFW)

This is an Ateez fic.

Summary: Stuck in an elevator with Hongjoong, the person you hate the most, you aren’t ready for when things take an unexpected turn.

Genre and warnings: basically no plot. enemies to lovers. fem pronouns for reader. hate sex. unprotected sex. biting, choking, slapping, name calling. dirty talk.

Word count: 4,220.

Tag list: @thewonderofkpop - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @obligatoryidolblog - @iusrene - @billboard-singer - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @passionloveindividualityempathy - @multistan-net

this fic is not meant to represent hongjoong in any way, shape or form.

Balancing the box on your knee, you fumble for the keys, slipping them into the lock and successfully closing the door. You are ready to get home. Helping your friend move is a duty thrust upon any in a close circle but that didn’t mean it was ever fun.

 You had offered to lock up so your friend didn’t have to drive back and finish up some loose ends. The apartment was painful for them due to their break-up, and you didn’t mind lingering to make sure the place was cleaned out. It took longer than you anticipated, however, and now it is past ten.

You walk down the hallway, holding the final box of items that your friend told you to toss in the dumpster; it appears to be mementos of the dead relationship. As you turn the corner, lost in your own thoughts, you see someone waiting for the elevator. Your heart drops, an eye roll instinctively occurring at the sight of the person you dislike the most – Hongjoong.

“Why are you still here?” You complain immediately.

He looks up from his phone, over his shoulder, “Why are you still here?”

“Nice comeback. I’m actually helping.” You hold the box out towards him as evidence, “Unlike you.”

 Your friend is close to Wooyoung, who offered to help them move. Unfortunately, Wooyoung is close friends with Hongjoong – literally the most annoying person on the entire planet. He is cocky, spoiled and picky about everything. You disliked each other immediately.

The dislike is on a molecular level – as soon as you locked eyes with him the first night Wooyoung brought him out to the bar a couple years ago, the two of you circled around each other like animals ready for a kill. No matter how many times people tried to tell you that Hongjoong had layers and was a nice guy, you never saw that for yourself. He was always making snide remarks to you and it took about two seconds for you guys to start fighting if there was no buffer.

Today you had attempted to be on your best behavior. Your friend is going through a lot and you didn’t want to add to it. But wow, Hongjoong is annoying. His idea of helping to move was bringing coffee at the start (he “accidentally” forgot yours) and then sit on the windowsill and boss people around.

“I helped.” Hongjoong retorts.

You roll your eyes again, “Did you press the button for the elevator?”

“No. I thought I’d sit here and see what happens.” He replies dryly.

“Shut up, Hongjoong.”

“You first.” He replies like a child.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. Hongjoong is wearing a button up shirt with tiny sunflowers on it, a denim jacket over it, blue jeans and yellow sneakers. His hair is a bright blueberry shade because he likes to change the colour depending on the season which would be a cute concept on literally anyone but him. He is looking at his phone, one nail painted yellow, probably to match his shirt. You avert your gaze back to the elevator doors.

“What is taking so long?” You grumble.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be standing next to you either.” Hongjoong remarks, smiling at you brightly which only annoys you more.

The elevator doors finally open. Quickly, you step inside, anxious to get away from him and get out of here. Hongjoong follows, presses the lobby button, and the doors protest as they close. The apartment building is run down, and your friend lived on the ninth floor.

You stand on the opposite side of Hongjoong, staring steadfastly at the doors. Neither of you speak. The elevator passes the seventh floor, moving to the sixth –

And stops so hard that you drop the box, the contents spilling across the elevator floor. The grinding noise from the elevator is loud enough that you wince, the lights flicker off leaving you in complete darkness. A few seconds later, the emergency lights go on, casting a strange hue across the small space.

“What the hell?” Hongjoong mumbles, “The elevator has stopped.”

“Wow, really?” You remark as anxiety blooms in your chest, “I couldn’t tell. Thank God you’re here to explain it.”

He scowls, pressing some of the buttons on the board but the elevator remains firmly in place. The emergency button also does nothing. “I think power is off in the entire building.”

Crouching, you shove everything back in the box as Hongjoong pulls out his phone, typing away. Just wonderful, you think. This is so typical of your life.

He is silent for what feels like ages before speaking, “News is saying there is a city-wide blackout. We’re probably gonna end up waiting it out. How’s the battery life on your phone? Mine is almost dead.”

“Probably because you were on it all day,” You mumble, fumbling for your own phone.

“I wouldn’t want to use my phone either if I knew no one would be contacting me,” Hongjoong insults you, voice dripping with honey to hide the sting.

“I’m at fifty percent. I can text some people and let them know we are here and put it in power saver mode,” You say, typing quickly to the group chat.

After that is finished, the two of you just stand there. Part of you wants to scream, the other part of you just wants to start whining like a baby. Being stuck in an elevator is one thing – being stuck in here with Hongjoong of all people is quite another. There is no point in trying to open the elevator doors either because it got stuck in between floors. You wonder if you’re going to run out of oxygen. Did that happen? Or was that just a thing in movies?

Neither of you speak for what feels like ages. The elevator starts to get warm, but you try to ignore it. You sit down on the floor at one point and Hongjoong follows, leaning his head back against the elevator wall, closing his eyes. Time seems to stretch on, the temperature rising the longer you sit there.

At one point, Hongjoong shrugs out of his jacket, putting it next to him, rolling up the sleeves of his button up. You have noticed before how in shape he is and try to avert your gaze now as you see his muscles against the fabric of his shirt, the way the shirt sits across his chest. You’re suffering from heat exhaustion, you tell yourself, otherwise you wouldn’t be staring at him.

“Did you have plans tonight?” Hongjoong asks suddenly.

“Please do not try to make small talk.” You mumble.

“Never mind, forgot who I was asking,” He says, “Probably were going to spend the rest of the night on Youtube.”

“God, shut up, Hongjoong. Do you really have to start shit now?” You retort, closing your eyes as if doing so would make him disappear.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Be quiet, maybe.”

“Then I just think about how fucking hot it is getting in here.”

He isn’t wrong. The temperature is steadily rising, your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. Sitting here in silence does make it worse, somehow, as if the only thing you can think about is just how your body is breaking out in a sweat.

“I don’t understand what your problem with me is,” You hear yourself say, “You were on my ass from the moment we first met.”

“What? You started it,” Hongjoong sounds affronted, “That first night we met, you looked at me as if I were shit on your shoe.”

Your eyes open, narrowing to look at him, “What the hell are you talking about? The reason we don’t get along is your fault. You’re the one who looked me up and down and made a snide remark about my shoes.”

“It was not a snide remark.”

“You literally looked at my shoes and went ‘oh, I think I saw those on the clearance rack downtown’. How is that not an insult?”

“It was an observation.”

“No, it was you being an asshole. Because apparently I looked at you wrong. Do you hear yourself?” You snap.

“Do you hear yourself?” He hisses.

“I don’t know why you think a witty insult is just repeating what I said in an obnoxious tone but you’re an idiot so what do I expect?”

His lips press in a thin line, “You know, maybe you were right. I’d rather sit here and think about how I’m cooking to death than talk to you.”

“Wow, your braincells are finally working.” You cross your arms, closing your eyes once more.

The silence descends on the elevator like a suffocating blanket. Your time with Hongjoong is minimal – this is probably the longest you have spent around him alone. In social settings, you both avoided each other. You know when you have a conversation with him, you sound like a child. So does Hongjoong. No one else makes you speak so unkindly or act so immaturely. He really brings out the worst in you.

You hear Hongjoong huff after twenty minutes, and crack open one eye a little. He is undoing two of the buttons on the top of his shirt, fanning himself. You can see beads of sweat forming on the top of his chest and close your eyes again. Being stuck in an elevator during a city-wide summer black out with Hongjoong is far down on the list of things you ever wanted to experience.

He stands up then and begins to pace the small space. Annoyed, you open your eyes again, “Do you have to do that?”

“What?” He snaps.

“Pace around like that.”

“Just close your eyes, sweetheart and it won’t annoy you,” His voice drips with sarcasm, “It’s too hot to think straight.”

You tug on your own shirt, trying to get some air to move through it. The minutes feel endless and the more time that passes, the less you can begrudge Hongjoong for removing his jacket and undoing the buttons on his shirt. You wish you could do something similar but all you are wearing are jeans and a simple shirt.

He runs his fingers through his hair and you see the muscles in his arms. Irritation flashes through you, “You know, if you’re so in shape why didn’t you help more today?”

Hongjoong raises one eyebrow, “Admiring me?”

“Fuck off. I’m just saying you did nothing today and you’re clearly in shape. You could have helped with the heavy lifting.”

“Listen, I only showed up cause Wooyoung said he was gonna buy me food afterwards. But then he ran off early because he had an unexpected hook up appear.”

“You could’ve helped me finish up.” You stand up now, irrationally annoyed.

“Unsure what part of me only showing up for free food you aren’t understanding. I didn’t show up to move things.” Hongjoong replies, undoing another button on his shirt.

“Oh my god, enough with the striptease.” You snap.

“There is no striptease, God – you are just…you are so fucking annoying, please tell me you know that. Please tell me you are at least somewhat aware of how obnoxious you are.”

“I’m the obnoxious one? You’re the one stripping down in the elevator.”

“It’s like 1000 degrees in here!” He exclaims, his fingers suddenly working the buttons on his shirt quickly, “That wasn’t a striptease, this is a striptease.” His shirt hangs off his shoulders now, completely open in the front.

Jesus, you think and then immediately think, no, stop, don’t even follow wherever your brain is trying to lead you – this is Hongjoong for fucks sakes. But Hongjoong is in amazing shape – way better shape than you previously thought. His stomach is toned, he has abs, and every part of him is so well defined that it is difficult to stop gawking.

And you must not hide the gawking very well because a smug expression crosses Hongjoong’s face and he bites his bottom lip a little as he takes a step towards you, “Oh, I’ve seen that look before. When you don’t think I am looking. Maybe the reason you hate me so much is because you look at me like that and hate yourself for it.”

The words hit a nerve and before you can stop yourself, you slap Hongjoong across the face. He makes a small noise as your hand strikes his cheek, the skin flushing dark red. The next second, he pushes you by your shoulders against the elevator wall, taking you by surprise. His body is against yours and even though you hate yourself for it, you can feel every nerve respond to being this close to him.

Hongjoong is looking at you as if he is going to devour you whole, a demon possessed, as he goes, “If you hit me again, sweetheart, I’m going to stop being nice.”

You don’t even hesitate, bringing your hand down against his other cheek as hard as you can. Hongjoong makes a tiny noise of pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before his hands grab your hair painfully, giving it a sharp tug and then his lips crush yours.

There is nothing sweet about this kiss. You are biting on his bottom lip hard, tugging on it with your teeth until he hisses in pain. Your hands pull off his shirt, it hits the elevator floor, your fingers dragging up along his muscles, feeling the sweat underneath your fingertips. Hongjoong is unzipping your jeans quickly, trying to tug them off you.

You know that you shouldn’t be doing this. You have lost your mind. You blame the heat, the stuck elevator, the close proximity of Hongjoong.

The kiss breaks, he growls, “Get your stupid jeans off already.”

You fumble with them, finally pulling them off your warm body, wearing just your shirt now. Hongjoong grabs your underwear, ripping them off you as if they are made of paper, hoisting you against the wall of the elevator. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck as he pulls his cock out from his jeans and underwear, pressing them against your hole.

“You wet enough for me?” He asks, one hand slipping down to feel, “God, already this soaked? Whore.”

You tug his hair hard, yanking his head back. Before you can stop yourself, you spit directly against his mouth, eyes blazing, “Don’t call me that.”

He groans when you spit on him, clearly getting off on it, “What are you gonna do if I say it again?”

“I’ll spit in your fucking mouth.”

“Whore.” Hongjoong says immediately.

Your hand grabs his cheeks, squeezing them together, his mouth opening. You spit in his mouth and Hongjoong says muffled, “Again.” and you do it again, spitting even more this time –

With a groan, Hongjoong enters you with no warning. Your wet pussy takes him easily, the sensation of being filled up makes you moan, your hands slipping from his cheeks to hold onto his neck again. You want him so bad it is disgusting, you don’t even understand it, all you know is that you want him to fuck you into oblivion.

Buried inside your cunt, Hongjoong starts to pump his hips. The angle in which he is fucking you is insane. He is hitting your sweet spot directly from it, sliding all the way out of you before ramming back in. Smooshed between the wall of the elevator and Hongjoong, all you can do is take his cock, strangled gasps toppling from your mouth as he rails you.

“Oh, I like you much better like this,” Hongjoong says through clenched teeth, “You’re way less annoying when you’re just moaning.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You growl and your lips find each other, kissing hungrily.

Hongjoong doesn’t slow his pace and you know that you’re already going to cum. Gasping, fingernails digging into his back, bouncing on his cock, you grit your teeth, moaning louder than you would have liked, hating that Hongjoong can hear how much pleasure he is giving you.

“Fuck, you gonna cum already?” He asks but doesn’t stop, “I bet I’ve made you cum faster than anyone else, right, sweetheart?”

You hate him being correct. But before you can reply, he rams his cock deep and it pushes you over the edge. Gasping, you start to climax, moaning Hongjoong’s name as your pussy tightens around his cock, squeezing tightly, making him groan. You bury your face in his neck, panting, grinding against him desperately.

As you rock against him, riding out your orgasm, Hongjoong grips your ass hard, turning suddenly so his back is against the elevator wall, sinking to the floor so that you are straddling him in his lap now. His cock is still rock hard and buried deep in your cunt.

“Bounce on my dick,” He orders.

“No.” You mumble into his neck.

His hand pulls your hair so hard that it forces your face back to look into his eyes. His blueberry hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead from sweat, eyes blazing. “Bounce on my dick, whore.”

You go to spit again but Hongjoong slaps you. It stings, head going utterly blank at the impact, body buzzing pleasantly. It shouldn’t feel so good for him to hit you, but it seems to awaken something dormant inside you.

“Fuck,” You exhale, “You get off on hitting women? Asshole.”

His hand shifts to your neck, wrapping around it, giving it a small squeeze, “No, I get off on hitting just you.”

“What else you gonna do?” You tease, wanting more, hoping he knows this is your way of begging for it.

Something flashes past Hongjoong’s eyes and his hand squeezes hard against your neck. He brings his other hand up and he begins to choke you. You can’t even stop yourself – you immediately begin to bounce on his cock. The t-shirt you are wearing is covered in sweat, sticking to your skin uncomfortably as Hongjoong chokes you so hard that your head begins to get very light.

“Open your eyes, look at me,” Hongjoong’s voice is tense, and you force your eyes open, looking at him dazed, which makes him sneer, “Head blank now, sweetheart? Nothing going on up there, just you being choked and fucked like this?”

He releases his hold on your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. Hongjoong grabs your shirt, pulling it off over your head, yanking your bra down to expose your tits. You are bouncing on his cock, urgently trying to ride him as fast as you can. Even though you have came once already, you want to cum again and want his load in you.

“I hate you so much,” You whine as your bodies, slick with sweat, grind against each other.

“Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.” Hongjoong replies as he tugs hard on your nipples, drawing another moan from you.

He pulls you in for another kiss as you bounce on his cock, kissing you messily, practically drooling in your mouth as you try to fuck him as hard and deep as you can. Both of you are panting, overheated, the sound of skin smacking together and moans filling the elevator.

The kiss breaks, foreheads pressing together before Hongjoong drags his tongue down your cheek, along your neck, tasting your sweat, yanking on your hair as he bites down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. The pain feels so good that you buck your hips hard, feeling his thighs shiver underneath you.

“Bite me again,” You urge.

Hongjoong doesn’t hesitate to bring his teeth to the other side of your neck, biting down on your skin to break it, driving another gasp of pleasure from you. You have never had sex this rough before – something about fucking Hongjoong makes you want it, makes you want to be as aggressive as possible with him.

You bring your fingers to his lips, pushing them past into his open mouth, ramming them so hard down his throat that Hongjoong gags suddenly around them. His head is back against the elevator wall and all he can do is take your fingers as you keep them in his mouth. His teeth graze the top, his eyes watering but he doesn’t protest. Instead, his tongue circles around them as if they are a cock, sucking on your fingers urgently.

“Oh, I like you much better like this,” You drawl, “You’re way less annoying when you are gagging on my fingers.”

Hongjoong bucks his hips then, driving his cock suddenly hard inside you, pushing your fingers out of his mouth. His hand is back on your neck, fingers digging in so hard that you hope they’ll leave a mark but instead he forces you off his cock.

Panting, splayed out on the floor of the elevator, completely naked, glaring at Hongjoong, you wonder if he is going to stop fucking you just to be an asshole. But he finishes undressing, jeans landing in the pile of clothes, climbing on top of you, hiking your legs around his waist and entering you without any hesitation. Your pussy takes his cock easily with a wet sucking noise and he begins to pound into you.

It is so hot in the elevator now from the lack of power and the fact you have been fucking Hongjoong’s brains out. The two of you are completely entwined, grinding against each other, your hips trying to match his pace, bodies drenched in sweat. It is as if you both needed to do this – to take out your dislike of each other in such a manner – and the catalyst was being stuck in the elevator. It doesn’t even feel like sex, it feels more like a power struggle for control and neither one of you are going to give in.

“You gonna make me cum again?” Your voice doesn’t even sound like it belongs to you.

Hongjoong’s hands are in your hair, using it as something to hold onto, as he slams into your cunt. There isn’t a single inch between your bodies. Your fingernails are leaving long scratches along his back which he arches so you can do it deeper.

“Milk my cock so I can fill it up,” He demands before kissing you again messily.

You moan loudly in his mouth and before you know it, you are climaxing again. Your pussy tightens around his girth, Hongjoong gasps, and he is cumming as well. You can feel his balls emptying in you, his hot load coating your walls. Both of you are moaning with reckless abandon, rocking against each other, riding out your respective orgasms.

When you crash back down to earth, you cannot believe what the fuck you just did. Hongjoong is trying to catch his breath, body on top of you.

“Get off me.” You mumble, wondering why the hell you just lost your mind – did you really just fuck the most annoying person on the planet on the floor of a grimy elevator?

Hongjoong rolls off you, still trying to catch his breath. You grab your shirt, tugging it on quickly even though you are covered in so much sweat that it is difficult to pull your jeans back on. You toss Hongjoong’s clothes at him.

“Get dressed. I don’t care if it’s sweltering in here.”

He glowers, propping himself up but you turn away so you don’t look at his body anymore. You can hear him manage to get dressed. You have no idea what to say. What did you say after fucking someone like that? His cum is leaking out across your thighs and you are anxious to get to your car and shower, covered in sweat, body sore from being slapped, choked, bitten – although it horrifies you to admit that you like the pain.

Before Hongjoong can say anything, the power suddenly comes back on. The elevator comes to life, shaking violently as it begins to lower, the emergency lights flickering off.

“Perfect timing,” You hear Hongjoong mumble to himself.

The elevator comes to a stop at the lobby. As soon as the doors open, you dart through them, completely forgetting the box you originally had with you.

“Hey, slow down, you forgot this,” Hongjoong says, jogging to catch up as you spill out into the sidewalk, the city coming back to life from the blackout.

You turn around as he thrusts the box towards you. Hongjoong’s hair is a total mess, his shirt isn’t even buttoned up properly. You can only imagine what you must look like. You snatch the box out of his hands.

“That didn’t mean anything,” You snap, “You know that, right? I still hate you.”

He holds his hands up innocently, “As far as I am concerned, what happens in a blackout stays in a blackout. I still hate you just as much as I did prior to that.”

“Great, glad we got that sorted.” You take one last look at him before turning sharply and taking off towards your car.

To your horror, Hongjoong loudly shouts, “Your pussy is great, though!”

“Fuck off!” You yell back, scurrying faster to your car.

Yeah, you definitely still hate him.

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[fics-n-stuff]

Home - Pt 2

For @glowstick-lesbian, request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: After Y/N finally gets out hiding, it's time to sit down with Kaz and talk through whatever it is that's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Brief talk of Jordie and Kaz's trauma and touch aversion

A/N: Wow this ended up being longer than I intended! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, I was focused on The Bastard's Shadow and Affluenza pts1 + 2, and then I started picking up more shifts at work and got writers block at the same time. I really hope you like how it turned out!! ❤❤

Pt1 here

After the very enlightening visit from Kaz, the days seemed to drag on even slower than before. The next two months went by in a crawl, and no matter how much you buried yourself in work you couldn’t distract from the longing you felt to get out of your apartment.

When your messenger came to deliver the news that your pursuers were willing to come to a truce you had been so happy that you’d gone straight to pour yourself a glass of whisky to celebrate. From then, you counted down the days until the meeting that you set up, the result of which should mean that you were free to roam the city again.

Inej had shown you how to get out of the window and onto the roof months ago. It was your escape route in case of an emergency, but you had used it every now and then just to sit on the roof and enjoy a taste of the outside world. That night, you had climbed out with intention and dressed in your finest coat.

You travelled over the rooftops towards the Government district, where your meeting had been arranged to take place near the Stadhall. The presence of the stadwatch would serve to protect you in case the deal went south.

You had been jittery with a mix of anxiety and excitement when you descended to street level and wended your way through the streets to find three men waiting for you at the Stadhall, all of them tall, broad and commanding. Barrel businessmen that you had crossed one too many times, and no doubt they had been angered that forcing you into hiding hadn’t put a stop to your business.

You were too smart to have not found a way around it; you had to be to run the business that you did. You owned three boarding houses and two bars in the Barrel and two ships that brought in imports from Ravka and Novyi Zem, a squaller as a permanent fixture on the crew of each to whom you paid a fair salary. You’d had Kaz put them under the protection of the Dregs to keep them safe from slavers. On top of all of that, you used your contacts in Ravka, Novyi Zem and other parts of Kerch to help get kids out of the Barrel and into honest work elsewhere. You might operate from the criminal underbelly of Ketterdam, but you made a mostly honest living.

The meeting took longer than you had anticipated. The three men were eager to negotiate territories that you couldn’t conduct business in and items that they didn’t want you to import because it was cutting into their own business. You held firm, you knew what was fair and you would be damned if you let anyone bully you into submission.

In the end, you essentially just agreed not to get in their way, which was easy enough to do. You wouldn’t actively compete with them in the sale of imported goods, and you wouldn’t try to convince any of the lads that they used as runners and grunts to get out of the Barrel. As long as you kept your distance from them you’d be fine, since they were clearly tired of chasing after you.

“Alright then, the deal is the deal.” You said, holding out your hand. All three shook hands with you in turn, echoing the phrase as was customary. When the man in the middle – clearly the leader and the last to shake with you – took your hand, you tightened your grip and leaned forward. “If you try to cheat me after this deal, you will have Dirtyhands to answer to.” You said lowly. He tried not to show his reaction but the fear in his eyes betrayed him, and you released his hand. It wasn’t often that you involved Kaz and his reputation in your affairs, but sometimes it paid to be friends with the most ruthless man in Ketterdam.

You left the meeting with your head held high and took a gondel back to the Barrel. You were approached by a few people who stayed in one of your boarding houses or drank in one of your bars on your walk to the Crow Club, telling you that they had been curious or worried about having not seen you around for so long. You didn’t engage in any conversation beyond polite acknowledgment, too eager to get to the Crow Club.

Inej was the only one that knew that you were getting out tonight. You had told her when she had come to deliver your food for the week and she had promised to try and keep everyone corralled at the Crow Club so that you could make a big entrance, but the later it got the less likely it was that she could keep them all there without raising suspicion.

You practically ran down the last street towards the Crow Club, bursting through the open door and searching the crowd for your friends. Jesper caught sight of you at the same moment that you spotted them all at the bar, and you saw his jaw drop in shock. A huge grin spread on your face as he set his drink down, his sudden change in demeanor getting the attention of the rest of the group and causing them to turn to follow his gaze.

“Y/N?” Jesper called, prompting you into as much of a sprint as you could manage across the crowded floor of the gambling hall. You vaulted yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his lanky frame. “You’re back! How?” He exclaimed, and you laughed as you felt him hug you back and sweep you off of your feet.

“I had a meeting to call a truce. As of tonight I am a free person!”

“We missed you so much!” Nina grinned, prying Jesper’s arms off of you so that she could pull into a hug herself. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were finally coming out of hiding?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You grinned, pulling away so that you could move to hug Wylan next. “I missed you guys so much too, you have no idea.” You caught sight of Kaz over Wylan’s shoulder, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You pointed your smile at him and his lips twitched upwards before he cooled his expression and gave you a simple nod.

Your reunion was spirited to say the least, even Matthias couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were back. You made them tell you about all of the most significant things that you had missed in the year that you had been trapped inside and update you on any power shifts between the Barrel gangs. Jesper wouldn’t shut up, Wylan was excited to tell you about all of the new explosives and weapons that he had developed, and Nina was making a list of places that she wanted to get lunch together to make up for lost time. It felt amazing to be with them all again.

“Okay! I want to play a few hands of Three Man Bramble before I go.” You announced, pushing your glass away from you after downing the last of its contents.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jesper grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you to a table.

It seemed apt that fortune seemed to be in your favour, winning so consistently that you continued to play even though you knew that you shouldn’t. It felt like every time that you looked up from the table you caught Kaz watching you, and his unashamed gaze made your heart flutter.

After a while you saw him give a slight nod towards the door, an action that meant that it was time to go, and you tucked you lip between you teeth as you gave a subtle nod back and turned your attention back to your cards.

“Unbelievable!” Jesper exclaimed upon seeing that you had won again. “I guess you’re catching up on a year’s worth of luck.”

“Perhaps, but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.” You smiled, gathering up your winnings. “I need to go and breathe some more fresh air.” You pocketed half of your winnings and pushed the other half around the table to Jesper. “Not too much fun.”

“There’s no such thing as too much fun.” He beamed and pulled you to him so that he could plant a kiss on your cheek. “Good to have you back, Y/N.”

“Good to be back, Jes.” You winked before bounding back to the bar to say goodbye to the rest of your friends. Kaz had already disappeared, no doubt in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you were leaving together.

“We’re going to get waffles tomorrow. I will break your door down if I have to.” Nina asserted, practically crushing your ribs in a hug. “Inej, you’re coming too.”

“What about me?” Wylan pouted, and you laughed.

“Everyone’s invited.” You replied, holding his face and turning it towards you so that you could press a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling him in for a hug. “I just got out, I want to spend time with you all!”

You kept your hug with Inej pretty short, considerate of the bad feelings that too much contact could stir up in her, and even managed to coax a hug from Matthias before you headed out. Kaz was waiting not far from the entrance and you smiled as you quickly made your way towards him

“Hey.” You chirped.

“You wanted it to be a surprise, huh?” He questioned, starting towards the Slat. You chuckled.

“I know you’re not a big fan of surprises, Kaz, but I thought this might be a fun one. Why? Were you offended that I told Inej and not you?”

“Did you have anyone go with you to your meeting?”

“No, I didn’t need any backup.”

“Things could have gone badly, and you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Well things didn’t go badly.” You rebutted. “I’m here, I’m fine, and I surprised you all.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.” Kaz said flatly, ignoring your point, and you groaned loudly at his stubbornness.

“If it makes you feel better, I made sure to drop your name in to intimidate them. But I can handle my own business.”

You hopped along the cobblestones playfully, irrationally happy to be back out on the filthy and foul smelling streets of the Barrel, but even the stink couldn’t dampen your joy at finally being free. You were sure that you and Kaz probably looked like a bizarre pair walking together now, him with his stoic exterior and identifying limp next to your childlike joy, though you had taken after him fashion wise with your smart attire and well-fitted, black coat.

Walking back to the Slat with Kaz took you in the opposite direction to your home – now that you were out of hiding you could finally return to where you actually lived in a house on the boundary of East Stave and the Zelver District – but you wanted to talk to Kaz, and he wouldn’t have asked you to leave with him if he didn’t want to talk to you too. Nevertheless, you continued the rest of the walk in silence.

When you got to the Slat, Kaz continued straight up to his room while you lingered on the ground floor to say hello to some of the Dregs that you were more friendly with. The noise of the Slat was unfamiliar to you after so long, but you had kind of missed the rowdiness of it.

You followed upstairs shortly after. Kaz had left his door ajar for you and you could see him sat at his desk through the opening.

“Shut the door behind you.” He said as you slipped inside, and you heard the door click as you push it shut after yourself.

“You wanna talk to me?” You questioned, walking over to lean on the side of the desk casually. “Or did you just want some time to look at my gorgeous face?” He did look up at you then, his eyes darting around to take in the entirety of your face, and you felt your heart flutter.

“How did your meeting go? What deals did you make?” He asked. You sighed. It wasn’t new that Kaz was asking about your business, he liked to know about what you were doing the same way that he liked to know about literally everything else, but you had hoped that this conversation would be a little less mundane than that. You had hoped that he might express an iota of joy that you were back.

“I can’t dock my ships in 3rd Harbour anymore.” You shrugged. “So I’ll stick to 2nd for imports going into the morning market, mostly 5th for everything else. There’s a few streets that I need to keep my business off of, and obviously I can’t try and undermine their operations anymore. That doesn’t mean that I won’t, it just means that I’ll be smarter about not getting caught.”

“And what do you get from them?”

“They leave me alone. I don’t need more than that. I mean, their terms are hardly going to impede my business anyway.”

“And your insurance?”

“You.” You smiled sweetly. “Very few people are bold enough to cross someone that has Kaz Brekker on side.”

“I thought you prided yourself on running an honest business.”

“I do. My association with you doesn’t make my business any less legit. I’m more honest than most of the Merchant Council anyway.”

“That’s fair.” He conceded with a slight nod.

Kaz had visited you a few times since the night that you had both let on about how much you cared about each other, but you hadn’t talked about it. It felt like the tension between you had been building and building like an elastic band ready to snap. It was driving you crazy.

“Anything else that you want to talk about?” You hinted. Kaz let out a long breath, his eyes sliding away from you for a moment. You could tell that he wanted to talk about it but he was struggling to get it out. “Because you haven’t told me that you’re glad I’m back yet.”

“I am glad that you’re back.” He affirmed, then he took a hard swallow. “We all missed you.” You smiled brightly at that.

You could hear the crows moving around on the half-roof outside of Kaz’s window and crossed the room to perch on the windowsill. There hadn’t been anywhere for the birds to land in the apartment that you had been cooped up in.

“Can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone again just yet.” You said softly, tucking one knee up against your chest as you watched the birds through the glass.

“Sure.” Kaz answered.

You sat in silence for a while after that, which wasn’t unusual for you two. Before you had gone into hiding, you had spent many evenings with Kaz in his office just like this. Tonight felt different though. Something had opened between the two of you and now you couldn’t close it. The feeling permeated every corner of the room until you felt like you might explode if you didn’t break this silence, but, to your surprise, Kaz spoke first.

“I’ve been thinking about that day that I saw you outside the Crow Club.”

“Why?” You asked, blinking in surprise. Kaz was still facing forward at his desk, back turned to you, but his pen had stilled over the page.

“I watched you for a while, deciding whether to chase you off or recruit you for the Dregs.” He continued, ignoring your question. You were used to that too. “You were good at pickpocketing – you could spot a good mark, distracted them by pretending to beg for pennies – but you stayed in one place for too long.”

“I know, you told me at the time.” You smiled amusedly.

“I was just planning on telling you exactly that, but after I got your attention and you looked at me I knew that I had seen you before. It was in your eyes.” He turned around to look at you then, his gaze finding yours immediately. “Your eyes never changed.”

Kaz’s eyes had. Maybe that was why you hadn’t recognised him. Kaz Rietveld had eyes full of wonder and warmth, that were curious about everything and shone when he was happy. Kaz Brekker's eyes were cold, they held secrets. The curiosity had become analytical, and the shine had turned into a devious glint. Kaz Rietveld didn’t exist anymore, the R tattoo on Kaz’s bicep was the only relic of him, and you were the only one left to remember him.

“Crows remember the faces of those that are kind.” He finished softly.

“And that’s why you took me in? Because I was kind?”

“Because we were friends. We are friends.”

“Just friends?” You murmured, a challenge in your eyes. It wasn’t a provoking challenge, more of an encouraging one. You wanted to know where he stood and you wanted him to be able to tell you. He was silent for a long stretch.

“Would we ever be able to be more?” He asked. You knew what he meant. Kaz had built up so many walls that he didn’t know how to let down, and he knew that about himself. It was how he had survived, but it was a way of being that wasn’t very conducive to relationships. He didn’t think that he could do it.

“That depends on you.” You answered with a soft smile. “Because I’m not looking anywhere else.” Kaz swallowed and looked away quickly, but you swore that you had seen a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

A knock came at the door, and you cursed whoever was on the other side in your head.

“What is it?” Kaz called.

“There’s a man downstairs says he has a job for you.” Specht’s voice came through the wood. “Won’t talk to no one else but you.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Kaz replied, then muttered something under his breath bitterly. You heard the creak of Specht's retreating footsteps and Kaz turned to you. “Will you wait until I get back?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You watched Kaz leave the room and let out a long sigh once the door had closed behind him. You were finally talking about whatever it was that was between the two of you and you just had to get interrupted.

You shed your coat, dropping it lazily on the floor next to you, and rolled up your shirt sleeves. Despite the pressure put on you from some members of the Dregs, you had never gotten the crow and cup tattoo on your forearm. You had known from the start that you didn’t want to belong to the gang, no matter how thankful you were for the help that Kaz had given you.

When you had realised who it really was that had approached you that night outside the Crow Club, you had been shocked. He knew your name when he spoke to you, though he had seemed unsure of it, and you had furrowed your brow and asked if you knew him.

“It’s Kaz.” He had said, and you had blinked.

“Kaz Rietveld?” You had whispered in disbelief. His jaw had clenched, his shoulders stiffened.

“That’s not my name anymore.” He snapped. “It’s Kaz Brekker now.”

When you asked him why he had changed his name he had simply told you that it was easier that way. When you asked him about why he was in Ketterdam he had answered that his father had died and they had sold the farm. When you asked about Jodie he didn’t answer.

He had walked you to the Slat, told you not to talk to anyone, and brought you up to this very room. You had trusted him enough to follow. Despite his proud presence in the Barrel, despite the fact that he was walking you into the den of a gang, despite the fact that he was almost unrecognisable from the Kaz that you knew as a child, you had trusted him. And in the years that followed, he had never broken that trust.

He had helped you pay for the first boarding house that you purchased, come with you to the bank when you took out the loan to buy your first ship, had come to the harbour to see you off the first time that you had gone to Ravka.

Kaz had once reminded you of something from your childhood while around the other Crows, and once it had slipped that you and Kaz had been friends when you were young, people were constantly asking you about what he had been like. He never told anybody anything about himself and people had been eager to find a source of information on him, but most people had quickly come to realise that you weren’t going to say anything either. Kaz had never thanked you for your discretion, but you knew that he was glad for it.

If you were honest with yourself, you had found yourself drawn to him ever since you got your first glimpse through his cold and uncaring exterior and saw his loyal and protective nature. The pull had only grown since.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of the door opening, and you looked over to watch Kaz enter. The door clicked shut behind him and he moved to the wash basin directly across the room from the window that you were sat in, set down his cane and pulled off his gloves .

“A good job?” You asked. He shrugged.

“A job that I’ll do.” He answered and began unbuttoning his shirt. You tried not ogle as he pulled it off and picked up the washcloth from the basin, but you caught sight of a reddened stripe of raised skin across his side and furrowed your brows.

“When did that happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“How deep did it go?”

“Not too deep.”

“It doesn’t look like you stitched it up properly.”

“It’s fine.” He dismissed. You rolled your eyes and got up from the window ledge. Kaz never took proper care of himself but he was always too stubborn to admit it.

“Let me see.”

“I said it’s fine, Y/N-"

“Kaz.” You interrupted sternly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I said let me see.” He held your gaze for a moment before letting out a huff and raising his arm so that you could get a better view of the wound.

You kept your distance as you looked over the injury, but you could clearly see that the stitches were sloppy on the end of the gash towards his back; the side that he couldn’t reach easily himself.

“You’re keeping it clean?”

“I know how to treat a wound.” He grumbled.

“I know that you know how, that doesn’t mean that I actually trust you to do it. You didn’t even have it bandaged or anything, what if it gets infected?”

“It won’t, Y/N, stop worrying so much.”

“Well, if you’re not going to worry about yourself then somebody else has to.” You exasperated. “At least bandage it.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you crossed over to the cabinet where he kept his impressive stock of medical supplies and grabbed a roll of gauze. Kaz caught it grudgingly when you tossed it to him and set it to the side while he finished washing his torso.

“You worry too much.” He muttered.

“It’s good for you.” You smiled.

You watched him as he unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around his body, carefully laying it over the wound with pale fingers that you rarely saw. He was precise, but he couldn’t see his back and the bandage twisted as he moved it between his hands.

“It’s folded.” You told him softly, taking half a step towards him. “I can fix it... if you want.” There was a beat of silence before Kaz nodded slightly.

You moved towards him slowly and reached for him even slower, your eyes constantly flicking back to the mirror to gauge the reaction on Kaz’s face. Your fingertips barely brushed over his back as you unfolded the downturned piece of bandage and you immediately stepped away when you were done. It took no more than a few seconds, but you could hear Kaz’s short breaths and when you looked at him in the mirror you could see that he had paled.

You picked up the clean shirt that was laid on his bed and held it out to him at full arms length. His hand shook as he took it from you. He pulled it on quickly, making short work of the buttons, and pulled his gloves back on hastily.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were apologising for.

“It’s because of Jordie.” Kaz’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, his eyes trained on his shoes. “Why I can’t touch anyone. It’s because when he died...”

“You don’t have to tell me, Kaz.” You said softly when he trailed off. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

“When Jordie died, I was sick too. It was the Queen's Lady plague. One night, I fell asleep in an alley and woke up on the Reaper's Barge.” He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands together thoughtlessly, and you could see sweat forming on his brow. “When my fever broke, I had to swim back to the harbour, and Jordie... whenever someone touches me, all I can feel is those corpses.”

Silence hung between you as you tried to find the words to respond. It was a lot of information to take in, but suddenly things made sense. Now you understood why Kaz had become the way that he was; why he was prone to shutting people out, why the light behind his eyes had dimmed.

“Kaz, I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.” He muttered. “I have work to do. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” He crossed the room to sit down at his desk, his movements tense. You watched him for a minute, unsure of what to do. It felt wrong to leave him alone right now, but you didn’t know if he would want you to stay.

“I’m sailing to Novyi Zem next week.” You said. It was the first topic that you could think of. “I’d really appreciate it if you could look over the rent ledgers while I’m gone.”

“Sure.” He replied flatly. Silence again.

“Will you come with us all to get waffles tomorrow?”

“I have work to do, and Nina didn’t invite me anyway.”

“Yeah, well, the celebration is for me and I’d really like for you to be there.” You smiled slightly. “She probably didn’t invite you because she knew you’d say no.”

“Smart of her.” Kaz responded, and you let out a frustrated huff.

“Don’t do that, Kaz. Don’t shut me out.” You complained. He didn’t answer at all. You folded your arms over your chest and went to stand beside his chair. “I don’t care that you can’t touch people, it doesn’t bother me. You went through trauma and that’s not your fault. What is bothering me is that you’re choosing to stay closed off to everyone. You can’t keep your walls up forever, you’ll kill yourself trying.”

“I can’t handle it, Y/N.” He snapped, his voice low. The gravel in his voice might have intimidated you into backing off if you weren’t so adamant on getting through to him.

“You’ll never be able to handle it if you don’t start trying.” You insisted. “Maybe if you’d just admit to yourself that you care about people it wouldn’t be so hard to see that we care about you too.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, and released a long breath. You watched him, waiting for a response, not backing down. After a moment of silence, he glanced up at you.

“I can’t need anyone.” He said slowly. “Not after Jordie. I can’t let myself need anyone else.”

“You don’t have to need me, Kaz. You just have to want me.” You replied softly. His head snapped towards you and you actually saw his pupils dilate for the few seconds that he held your gaze before quickly turning away again. You hadn’t meant it like that, but you weren’t upset that he’d heard it that way.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered. You leaned against his desk, a sympathetic smile on your face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I’ve been around this long, I’m not going anywhere.” You promised. “There’s more to love about you than you think.”

Kaz tapped on his desk with a finger, a nervous action that he would usually suppress. Then, he took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

“Okay.” He breathed. “I can try.” You bit down on your tongue in an attempt to suppress your grin, but you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face.

“That’s all I ask.” You lilted. You stood up straight, pushing off of the desk and starting across the room to the window. You rolled your shirt sleeves down and snatched your coat up from the floor. “I’m going to head home. I expect to see you at my door promptly at eleven bells tomorrow morning, ready to get waffles.”

“Alright.” He nodded, breathing a single light laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Here, Y/N, these are for you.” He said quickly, picking up and couple of envelopes from his desk and holding them up for you. “You’ll have to make sure to notify your business partners of your change in mailing address.” You chuckled, going to take the letters from him, and he gave a small smirk as he handed them over.

“Thank you.” You smiled, before turning and heading to the door. “Eleven bells, Brekker. I know you’re a punctual man.”

“I’ll be there.” He affirmed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kaz.” You echoed softly before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you, a fond smile on your lips.

[reservethesun]

Also, also. Totally understand if this doesn't fit what you're looking for, but I'd be super interested to read the "When did you stop loving me?" prompt for GramBlack, except that it happens when White is masquerading as Black

Okay okay okay, so I dunno if you saw my post screaming about a prompt, but this was the prompt. Words cannot express how much I love this prompt. It is so good and I only hope I can do it justice with my writing. Thank you soooo much for sending it in! [Prompt List]

Pairing: GramBlack/Gram&White Prompt: "When did you stop loving me?" Word Count: 2098 Notes: uh... this got very long ??? and also could possibly lead to a whole story on ao3 in itself cause wow there's a lot here. but anyway thank you again for the prompt!

Things were different and Gram wasn’t sure when it happened. Maybe it had happened slowly. To him, it felt as though it had happened all at once. Suddenly the only thing he could see was Black choosing Sean over and over. He was on Sean’s side, even when he wasn’t. They would fight and bicker, but everything he did seemed to be trying to keep Sean’s best interest in mind. They spent time together when the rest of them weren’t at the shop and Gram knew that they were sharing a room for the time being. He knew that it wasn’t Black’s choice to share a room with Sean - but he was still there and he didn’t complain about it nearly as much as Gram had anticipated. At least not to him.

Gram frowned as he checked his phone again. His last conversation with Black had been about Eugene. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had all happened there despite asking Eugene about it. She’d been very secretive. Gram didn’t like that. He tapped a finger on the side of his phone as he debated on whether or not he should text Black. It was a rule of thumb that Black texted first - it had been that way as long as Gram had known him. Black didn’t text anymore and that felt far worse than Gram thought it might.

Especially when he knew that Black would text Sean about things - he’d seen it happen. And since when was that a thing at all? Black and Sean had been at odds even before the incident. Everyone knew that they didn’t get along. They were both far too stubborn and single minded for that. Lately, though, it seemed that whatever their differences were in the past no longer seemed to matter. Which would be great!

If Gram didn’t feel like in the process he had started to lose the one person that mattered to him.

Gram sighed and set aside his phone as he stared at his ceiling for the next while. He knew he needed to try to get some sleep - there were classes in the morning - but his mind was churning the entire night and sleep never managed to claim him. So when his alarm went off the next morning he groaned but got up and started to get ready. Once he was, he grabbed his phone and his keys and made his way from his apartment toward the university.

He walked toward the cafeteria, hoping one of the guys might be there, and he could not help the smile that tugged on his lips when he saw Black standing there. He seemed to be intently reading some book that seemed vaguely familiar to him. It wasn’t until he had stopped next to Black and draped an arm over his shoulders that Gram realized it seemed familiar because it was one of Sean’s books. The smile on his face fell a little as he managed to joke, “Some light reading before class?”

“Mn,” replied Black, more distracted than anything. He didn’t even look up at Gram, which made him frown.

Gram stood there, unsure of what to say for several seconds before he sighed heavily and ran his other hand through his hair. “Are we studying tonight?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah that’s fine.”

Gram nodded his head a few times and let his arm slip from Black’s shoulders as they started walking toward their classroom. He fell behind so that he was several steps behind Black as Black read and walked at the same time, not noticing at all that Gram was no longer right beside him.

The rest of the day dragged on so slowly that Gram felt as though he had aged a hundred years in the time span. He had spent the day studying Black when he could in their shared classes and at lunch. The more he had watched, the more unsettled by everything Gram felt. They had all noticed that Black wasn’t exactly acting like himself lately - Gram had attributed it to stress and maybe finally letting down his guard around the others a bit. At that point as the two of them walked to where Gram had parked his bike - Black once again asking him for a ride because he hadn’t taken his bike that day - he was no longer sure what he thought.

All he knew was that nothing was like it used to be - including the one thing that he hadn’t anticipated changing.

The ride to his place wasn’t too long, but once again felt like it had taken forever all at the same time. He didn’t try to make small talk about their classes or the studying they were supposed to be doing (the studying that they used to never actually do because they would end up distracted), and he let Black into the apartment without any preamble. Black sat down on the floor like he had the last time they were there and Gram frowned. He placed his bag on top of his desk and his phone next to it. He then went over and lay down on the bed, leaving a space as he tended to do. Black continued to sit on the floor as he asked some question about the homework. Gram wasn’t paying enough attention to really understand what Black had asked him. “You’re different,” Gram said instead of answering.

Black shifted uncomfortably on the floor as he gave a small laugh. “You too? Everyone says that lately. It’s not true,” he responded, though it seemed more like he was just speaking as a way to waste time as he thought of what to say. “I just… I mean… people change a bit, maybe that’s-”

“When did you stop loving me?”

The room seemed to fall completely silent as Black stilled and stared at him. Gram stared at him, waiting for Black to say something, anything to explain that above anything else. Gram hadn’t cared about the rest of it. He’d kind of liked seeing Black be more gentle with the others - he didn’t like seeing Black grow feelings for someone else. Panic seemed to cross Black’s face then as he quickly glanced toward the door. It made Gram close his eyes and take a deep breath. That was all the answer he really needed, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like their thing ever really had many words involved in the first place. Gram had known how Black felt - it was all he’d needed.

Gram opened his eyes and nodded his head as he turned to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “Okay,” was all he could really say to that because what else could he do? Demand an answer? It would only make Black shut down and refuse to answer in the first place. Gram felt as though everything was breaking and he wasn’t sure where he could turn - he couldn’t cry to any of the guys, none of them knew. Black was the person he turned to the most, in the first place, and clearly he didn’t care anymore - not in the way that he had before.

Gram didn’t see as Black sat there seemingly struggling over what to do or say. He kept looking toward the door and then his phone and then back to Gram. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do - he had already crossed so many lines with Eugene, and then discovering that Black had actually been involved with Gram. That was… too much. White couldn’t do it. He didn’t know how to fix it and he wasn’t sure how fixing it could help him get the answers that he was still looking for.

But maybe he should tell Gram - Gram could help him. Especially if Black truly meant as much to him as White was starting to realize that he did. At the same time, he didn’t know if he could trust that Gram wasn’t the one that had set Black up to be hurt. If he had been, though, wouldn’t he have done something about the fact that Black was there when he should have been dead or in a hospital? White’s mind was reeling and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

“I’m not Black,” the words tumbled out of his mouth before White could stop them.

Gram’s brow furrowed and he lifted himself up onto his elbows as he looked over at Black. “That’s not funny,” he said quietly.

“No. No, it’s not. I’m not- it isn’t a joke. I’m not Black.” White took a deep breath because he guessed at that point there was no going back. He may end up regretting his choice but he couldn’t not tell Gram. The thought of just leaving, of letting him stay there and suffer while thinking that Black didn’t care for him anymore - White couldn’t stomach it. With everything else that was going on, everything else that he was having to do and pretend… he couldn’t do that. “My name is White - Black is my twin.”

Gram stared at him, his face slowly going slack with simple disbelief before he gave a short laugh. “This is a new low, even for you.”

“I- no. I’m telling you the truth. Everyone- I mean, all of you keep saying how different Black has been. It’s because I’m not Black.” White stood up as he spoke, crossing his arms after he was on his feet. He wasn’t entirely sure how he could convince Gram that he wasn’t lying or trying to belittle the situation or anything like that. He knew though that there was really only one thing he could do, and it was the only thing that would make Gram really believe him; he needed to take Gram to see Black. “I know you’re confused and you have no reason to trust me right now but I just need you to. I need to show you something.”

Gram seemed hesitant at first, and White couldn’t really blame him for it, either. He wasn’t sure he’d believe himself if roles were reversed; but, after several more seconds passed, Gram sat up fully on the bed and nodded his head. White let out a heavy breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded his head as well.

They got into a taxi, the tension was enough to make White fidget throughout the drive. He debated on whether or not he should let Todd know that he was telling somebody - but then, it was his brother and his decision in the end. Todd wasn’t his boss and had simply provided some information to give him a start. His advice hadn’t been all that great, either, but White hadn’t had anyone else to turn to, really. White let out a heavy breath and kept telling himself that he was making the right choice, that it would be a good thing to have Gram on his side.

When they got to the hospital and got out of the taxi they stood on the sidewalk while Gram looked the building up and down. “What are we doing here?” he questioned.

White shook his head but gestured for Gram to follow him into the building. Gram didn’t say anything else as they went through the process of checking in. Gram wasn’t sure what to think about anything as he followed Bla- White? He followed the other young man through the hospital to another wing where they were given something sterile to wear over their clothes. Gram followed the other until they both came to a stop at the foot of a bed. Gram heard more than he felt the sharp exhale he gave when he realized that laying in the bed was Black. His face was showing obvious signs of having been bruised recently, and he looked far too skinny and pale. Gram’s brow furrowed as he looked over at the guy standing next to him.

“Someone hurt him,” White explained without looking away from his brother lying on the bed. “I don’t know who or why. Just that he’s like this. He hasn’t woken up so we don’t know how bad it is, yet. I want to find who did this.” There was a promise that he intended to keep.

White then looked over at Gram, who had unconsciously reached out and grabbed the metal railing that made up the foot of the bed. His grip was tight enough that his knuckles were whitening. He nodded his head once and then said, “What do we do?”

[fanmoose12]

Hello would you mind writing vets as a music band? And that fans suspect the “normal” relationship of head vocal Levi and bassist Hange? Sorry if my english isn’t writing properly at all.

Mikasa invites him to a No Name concert.

And it's like- whatever, right? Who cares? Jean certainly doesn't.

So what if the girl of his dreams asks him out on a date? It's not like he has been daydreaming about it for the past two years. So what if she offers to see his favorite band in the whole world? He doesn't even like them much. Sure, he knows all their songs by heart but- he doesn't listen to them that often. Only twice or thrice each day. And it's not like his closet hides an insane amount of their merchandise. That is between Jean, his closet and his mother.

He isn't nervous, he doesn't care about the upcoming date. At all. Most certainly, he doesn't spend literal days, obsessing over his outfit. And he obviously doesn't pester Sasha and Connie with questions on how to style his hair.

Most importantly, he doesn't imagine how it would feel to hold Mikasa's hand or maybe even go for a hug or a kiss-

Jean tries not to think about it, his heart starts to beat to fast, when he does, but when he doesn't think about Mikasa, he starts thinking about No Name and the little, tinie tiny fact that he's going to see them in person. That he's going to meet them and maybe even shake their hand, because Mikasa being the gorgeous goddess she is, got them tickets with access to a backstage. It didn't require any kind of effort from her side, since the famed, spectacularly, dreamy Levi Ackerman is Mikasa's cousin, but- Jean doesn't remember sharing his No Name obsession with Mikasa, for obvious reasons - he doesn't want to think that he likes her just because she's Levi Ackerman's cousin, Mikasa is great not because she's an Ackerman, but because she's Mikasa, but- but Jean is so, so grateful that he'll have the chance to see No Name in all their glory.

Of course, he is not at all nervous about meeting his favorite band in person. No, no, he doesn't lose sleep over it, his palms don't turn clammy. Sometimes he feels like he'll combust from anticipation, but he's fine, completely fine.

He just can't wait until that fated day will come.

---

When that day rolls around at last, Jean is cool. He's cool, calm, serene.

His hand is greasy from all the times he touched his slicked back hair, and he can't stop tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket, but- but he's cool.

The band that is currently playing isn't that bad - not nearly as talented and awesome, and hot as No Name, but still good. The crowd is bigger than Jean is comfortable with, but today it works in his favor because it prompts Mikasa to hold his hand. Maybe, he'll get that kiss after all. If he continues keeping his cool.

That proves to be just a little harder task when Mikasa announces that they reached the backstage.

Jean can't help it - he gawks around helplessly.

This is it, this is a place where miracles happen, where stars lounge and rest.

This is the place where he'll meet No Name.

Jean can't imagine how this meeting will transpire. Will they like him? Will they agree to make a photo? Will they give him an autograph? Will they think that he's a weirdo who is too obsessed with their music?

All of the above? None of the above?

Jean doesn't know.

There are so many things he wants to say. There are so many things he wants to ask - how can they play with those bandages on? How do they never trip during performances? What is their favorite song to play? What do they do in their free time? What is their favorite food? Are the rumors about Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe-

Okay, no, he probably shouldn't ask that last question, no matter how much he wants to know the answer. And he wants to, so, so much.

The thing is- there are many rumors about No Name. It's not surprising, they are young, famous and extremely hot. These rumors usually exclude the drummer, Mike Zacharias, who is already engaged with a very pretty blonde lady, their stylist. Although, there are some fans who speculate that the engagement is not true, and Mike actually dates their producer, one Erwin Smith, but- Jean usually ignores that type of fans, branding them as freaks.

Now, as far as everyone is aware, nor Levi Ackerman, neither Hange Zoe are involved in any kind of romantic relationships, and that's- that's where the juicy stuff begins.

There aren't many rumors about Hange - some say she's involved with Pieck, the band's make-up artist. Or their manager, Moblit Berner. Or an indie artist, Onyakopon. But that's where the list ends.

Levi Ackerman, however, oh he has a far longer list of lovers. Petra Ral, for example, a rising pop-star - young, talented and so pretty that it hurts. Or Erwin, although on that subject rumors wary - some say that Erwin is the one who got Levi in showbiz, some say that Erwin is his sugar daddy, some say that they're already engaged and even married. The rumors are as varied as they're wrong, in Jean's opinion. Most rumors about Levi are like that. There are even talks about his involvement with Yeager brothers - with the front man of the rival band, Zeke, and Jean's and Mikasa's classmate, Eren. Jean doesn't understand where these rumors even come from, as far as he's aware, Levi hates them both. But- but rumors still exist.

As stupid as they are.

Now, Jean has a different opinion, one that he spends nights defending in chats and forums. Yes, Levi Ackerman has a lover. And no, it's not Petra Ral, Erwin Smith or any of the Yeager brothers. It's Hange Zoe, No Name's bassist.

There are many reasons why he thinks so. Firstly, they are always together. And by always, Jean means always. In photoshoots they stand side by side, during performances they lean against each other, on all kinds of photos - from after-parties to official events, they always touch each other in some way. And that's not all. They spend their vacations together, they hang out at movies, restaurants, museums, their respective instagrams are full of the other's candid photos. And it's a known fact that they share an apartment. Honestly, how much more obvious it can get? Also Jean is pretty sure that one of the songs written by Levi is about Hange, and he has an entire essay, explaining why he's right. He prays to every saint known that Mikasa will never find it. He doesn't want his almost girlfriend to find out just how invested he is in the romantic life of her famous cousin.

As they walk further and further into the magical territory of the backstage, Jean tries to think of something cool to say, something laid-back and easy like 'hey, what's up, guys? I've listened to the couple of your songs, you're not that bad...'

Yes, he decides. That's a good way to start. A cool way to start.

And Jean is cool. And calm.

And- oh my god, there they are, the three of them, already in their costumes, just without the signature bandages. They look even cooler in person. They look even hotter and-

Mikasa squeezes his hand.

"If my asshole cousin says something awful, I'll punch him in the face for you."

God, that is so sweet. So Mikasa. He wouldn't be opposed to anyone getting a punch from her except- her gorgeous cousin. His pretty face should be protected at all costs.

However, as they approach, the face that charmed millions transforms, turning into a quite nasty scowl.

"So that's him?" Levi Ackerman asks (Jean's sick brain, even in that moment, can't help but note that Hange Zoe is standing right behind her band member, a hand laying on his shoulder). "That's the guy you're going crazy about?"

"Yes," Mikasa answers, and suddenly the air grows stiff. "Do you have a problem with that?"

The lines around Levi's mouth harden, and Jean tries to focus on Hange Zoe, while his mind prepares for something not at all pretty, but- Hange is smiling - not smirking, smiling. That is a good sign, right?

"Don't mind the Ackermans," she stage whispers to Jean. "Levi was actually very excited about meeting you."

Right now it's hard to imagine that dark (and still so handsome) face in the expression of excitement, but. Hange knows him a lot more, right?

"Oh and by the way," she giggles, and at the back of his mind Jean wonders if that's how angels sound like. "I'm Hange."

He almost blurts out 'I know' but- that'd be creepy? Or not? He can't decide so settles on a simple nod.

"Jean," he says, taking the offered hand in his. With his hand that isn't holding Mikasa's (they're holding hands, wow!), he shakes Hange's. It's unexpectedly calloused. But still warm and gentle. Not as nice as Mikasa's but... somewhere very close.

"And that is the one and only Levi Ackerman," Hange continues, gesturing to the man in question. "He only looks so scary. But actually," she winks and lowers her voice. "He's the biggest softie you'll ever meet."

The biggest softie Jean has ever met, practically snarls, baring his teeth. But the hand on his shoulder tightens and he instantly relaxes, scoffing in annoyance. Oh, so that's who Hange Zoe is? The one who tames the beast?

"You're not as revolting as her other dates," Levi says. Jean is pretty sure that it was meant as a compliment. "But if you dare to-"

"Oi," Mikasa's face becomes as stormy as her cousin's. "He won't."

"And even if he does," Hange smiles, so handsome and a little scary. "Mikasa knows what to do."

Jean gulps. He has seen Mikasa train that one time. He was very impressed, and a little bit scared. Also a lot aroused.

He knows with ironclad certainty that should Mikasa kick him... his face may not survive it.

"Hange, Levi," a gruff voice behind them calls. Jean lifts his eyes, mouth opening in shock as he sees him in the flash - the third member of Non Name, Mike Zacharius himself. In person... he is even more enormous than on photos. His shoulders are twice as wide as Jean's, and next to Hange and Levi, he looks almost like a giant. "We're starting in five."

"Oh!" Hange covers her mouth with a palm. "I haven't checked my guitar yet. Let's hurry, shorty!"

Hange dashes away instantly, Levi sighs and trudges after her. Mikasa tugs at Jean's hand as well, whispering that they need to go to their places.

Jean nods, absentmindedly, because right in that moment, at the other side of the room he sees Hange and Levi exchange a playful, quick but undeniably a kiss.

Triumph courses through him, firing him up. He knew that he was right, those fuckers from twitter can eat his shit.

Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman are truly dating.

He wants to know more, wants to ask Mikasa to spare the juicy details, but for now-

For now, Jean has to take care of his date as well.

He interlaces their fingers, and, keeping Hange's words in mind - Ackermans are not as scary as they look - he leans in to press a kiss to Mikasa's cheek and whispers,

"You look fantastic."

Ever so slightly, but Mikasa blushes. It's the best moment of the evening so far.

And, hopefully, there will be more of that.

[kaepop-trash]

Hey can you do a drabble with johnny where y/n and him share there kinks in a pillowtalk and even though they are timid (?) at first they encourage each other to speak.

And can you make it fluffy? Or like i dont mind how you make it i trust your writing style anyway😂😊😊😘😘

This started a whole discourse between me and two other people on what we think Johnny’s kinks are so genuine gratitude to you for that. After careful consideration, I came on these. This was very fun to write. I really wish people were this comfortable communicating in real life. I wish I was this comfortable communicating in real life.

I want you to picture this happening after the costco scene in Unintended Consequences, that is important to keep in mind. Thank you for saying you have trust in my writing because it makes one of us. I hope you like this!

-

Johnny looked up when the door of his bedroom opened, smiling when she walked in. She returned his welcoming smile with a tired one.

“I can’t believe you’re still awake.” She dropped her purse beside the door, “I’m sorry, the meeting lasted longer than I anticipated. We were supposed to go for dinner.” She sighed.

Johnny shook his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He took his laptop off his lap and placed it on the bed. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” He slipped out of bed, smiling at the way she fluttered her eyes away to the floor at his words.

Johnny definitely enjoyed how she looked when she was flustered a little too much.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

She groaned, "No I was chewing on these crackers from a basket somebody gave me at the office. They were actually really good." She recalled.

"I'm famished." Johnny smiled as he came up to her.

She gave a look that was somewhere between surprise and apology. "You haven't eaten yet? It's midnight!" She sighed. Johnny shook his head. A small smile tugging at his lips from her reprimand, "I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll eat okay?”

-

“Why are people sending you baskets?” Johnny questions as they ate the food Johnny ordered hours ago. She turned to look at him, holding back a smile. With a suspicious gaze, Johnny picked up his phone.

“It’s your birthday next week.” Johnny snorted once he checked the date.

She laughed, “Remember last year?” The look on his face made her laugh some more.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Johnny sounded offended, “I was still on thin ice with Sooyoung then. Imagine how it felt when she told me it was your birthday and I had no clue.” He sulked making her bite back her laugh.

“She only told you because she knew I wouldn’t.” (Y/N) shrugged, shoving more food into her mouth.

“Why?”

“Just.” She shrugged again. “All my friends live in different cities, you and I were barely on our second month; so I didn’t really do much about it. It’s just another day to me anyway.”

Johnny hummed with sarcasm, “That’s why you were sitting on your couch eating ice cream and watching HBO?” He clicked his tongue, disappointment clear on his face.

Her brows creased, “Hey! Nothing wrong with eating your favourite flavour of ice cream and watching your favourite show for the ninth time.”

“Yes.” Johnny sat back in his chair, patience written all over his face. “But we could have done that together.”

She chewed on her lips at that, before clicking her tongue. “You came over anyway!” She laughed, “With cake and that lemon chicken I really like. You’re the best boyfriend.” She puckered her lips at him and made kissy noises from across the table making him scoff. “It was the middle of the week! I didn’t want to be a bother, so I didn’t tell you. It’s whatever.” She dismissed the idea. “Don’t be mad.” She gave him a cheeky grin. "I'm yours for the day this time." She promised.

Johnny huffed, “Just watch.” He pointed his fork at her, “This time I’m going to go all out.” She groaned at the promise, making a smirk lift his lips. “So many gifts, (Y/N). Just watch.” He threatened. “So many.”

“Johnny.” She whined.

“No, see.” He sat up in his chair, his eyes glinting. “I know you better now. I know exactly what to give you.” He sounded very sure. "So you don't have to be self-righteous."

“And what’s that?”

“Things you want but put off buying. Like that kitchen knife you were eyeing at the mall. Or those scented candles.” He recalled with such impeccable memory that she would refuse if she wasn’t so touched.

Johnny drew his lower lip in with his teeth, thinking over something and then letting it go, “I’m also getting you some things I want.”

“Like what?” She raised a brow.

He gave her a secretive smile, “You’ll see.”

She grimaced, “Why so many?”

“Because I want to.” Johnny got out of his chair, picking up their empty plates. She got up and followed him towards the kitchen, “You never let me buy you anything! Your birthday is an opportunity.” He put the plates in the sink, giving her a chaste kiss on her temples. "And don't say you can get it yourself or I'll add another gift to my list." He said like he read her mind.

She bit her lips, “I let you buy me food.” She protested softly.

The incredulous look Johnny gave her made her giggle. “Basic nourishment, (Y/N). What a standard you set.” He huffed.

“You’re into that aren’t you?” She said softly.

Johnny stopped just as he scrubbed the first plate, turning to her. “Nourishment?” He scoffed, amusement painting on his face. “As a general rule of life, yes.”

She rolled her eyes, “It pleases you, giving people things?” She clarified.

“I guess.” He said slowly, looking back at the plate.

“You even got Mark an xbox for something you refuse to tell me about.” She scoffed.

Johnny smiled to himself, “That’s between him and me.” He wiped his hands after finishing his chore.

She hummed, “So I was right.” She said to herself mostly. When Johnny looked up at her in question, she bit down on her lip. “Last week. At costco?” Her heartbeat sped up a little as she recalled the afternoon.

“Oh.” Johnny blushed and looked away, a sight that was delightful to experience. “Yeah. I mean,” He paused, letting out a short laugh. “I thought I made that obvious.” She could tell he was trying to be nonchalant, but his cheeks were already turning pink.

“What else?” She questioned.

“What else what?” He turned around to face her, pulling her into his chest with a quick tug at her waist.

“What else are you into?”

Johnny gave her a devious grin, “So we’re doing this now?”

She looked down to his chest, “I mean. A year is long enough for us to discuss what we’re into. Sexually speaking.” Her warming cheeks made her look lower, to her own fingers.

Johnny hummed, tightening his grip. “Since we’re discussing this. Let’s start with you.”

That made her look up at him, “I asked you first!” She protested. “You should start.” She narrowed her eyes.

He nodded, “Come to bed at least, we’re both very tired.”

-

They both lay on their sides, watching each other. The soft light of the lamp above their head illuminated his face, his eyes covered by the shadow his hair left.

Johnny’s eyes shifted to the mirror on the wall opposite his bed, “I like watching you in the mirror sometimes. Watching us, I mean.” When his eyes came back to her, she could tell he was being careful. It made her heart flutter.

“I’ve noticed.” She smiled.

Johnny laughed, flipping over to look at the ceiling, “You’re making me nervous.” He groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I’m very vocal in bed. So I enjoy that in a partner too.” He nodded to himself.

“Like telling you how good it feels?” He questioned.

Johnny flopped his head to the side to face her again, his hair landing on his eyes, “Exactly.” The look he gave her seared her skin, “Also what you want me to do. I’m into verbal affirmation.”

She hummed, “Got anything I wasn’t already aware of?” She raised a brow.

Johnny grinned sheepishly, “Your turn. I’m trying to ease into it.” He winked, “What does my baby like, hmm?” He reached out to lace his fingers through hers, rubbing his fingers on his palm.

She chewed on her bottom lip, “There’s something about the way you run your fingers through my hair.” She fluttered her eyes away from his, focusing instead on his fingers. “Actually, fingers in general. Very nice, very attractive.” She lifted his hand, inspecting it.

“I’m flattered.” Johnny chuckled, “What else?” His voice came out rougher.

Her heart hammered in her throat, “Sometimes, when you’re cross at me.” She turned to look at him, an embarrassed laugh emitting from her lips. “You sound too good scolding me, Johnny. I didn’t know I could be into that.” She huffed, sounding a little annoyed at the notion.

“Now this. This I knew.” A smile tugged at his lips.

"I like taking control sometimes." Her cheeks felt too hot, "Especially if I can be on top." She kept her eyes on his palm.

"Oh." Johnny's voice dropped a little more. "Wow." He huffed, "Okay."

She looked up at him with an amused look in her eyes, the eager nod he gave her giving her the confidence to continue.

"I also," She paused and took a breath. Her exhale came out as a flustered laugh, making her smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Johnny grinned.

“I’m not!” She interjected, "Just give me a moment." She groaned, closing her eyes and ignoring her now burning cheeks. "I want to sit on your face." She scrunched her face, lifting a hand to hide it.

Johnny laughed loudly, the sound making her let his hand go to shove his chest.

"Don't laugh at me, Johnny!" She whined, "I'm going to go home. This is the worst idea I've ever had." She risked taking the hand off her eyes to find him grinning at her affectionately.

"You're so cute, (Y/N). That's not bad at all. It's so hot, I'd do anything you want me to know, baby." He brushed his knuckles on her pink cheeks. "You can tell me anything." He mumbled.

"I know!" She defended, "I know." She groaned. "This is just–" She paused, sighing. “This is just new to me.”

“Kinks?” Johnny gave her a skeptical look. She kicked his shin, making Johnny laugh.

“Communicating about them. I just thought,” She took a nervous breath. “I want you to be comfortable with your desires, you know?” She came a little closer to him. "I wanted to know what you like.

Johnny looked over her face, “I am very comfortable with how much I desire you. Too comfortable, in fact.” He raised a meaningful brow, biting back his smile.

“No.” She took another breath, thinking her words over once more. “I have a suspicion.” She breached slowly.

“No (Y/N),” The serious look on his face made her pause. “Mark and I are just friends.”

She snorted, making Johnny grin. “That’s very reassuring. But,” She reached out to put a hand on his chest. He hummed when she did, the sound reverberating in his chest against her palm. She kept her eyes focused on the way her hand rose and fell against his chest, “Sometimes I feel that you’re too careful with me. I don’t know whether it’s because of the fact that I haven’t had too many partners or because you’re afraid I’ll freak out or something.” She looked up with wide eyes when his breathing seemed to rise, her hand moving more rapidly. “I could be wrong. It’s just something I was wondering.” She looked away again, losing her nerves.

This time Johnny put his fingers under her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes, “Hey. You can tell me about anything you wonder in passing, hmm?” His eyes glowed in the dim light, she nodded. “I am gentle with you. I guess, some of it is because I am nervous of how you’ll react. But mostly because I love you. I want to treat you so well, like I believe you deserve.”

“What are you nervous about?” Curiosity took over her hesitation as she finally felt her questions being answered, “I can assure you, that you can’t break me in half.” She added with a snort, a smile playing on her lips.

Johnny mirrored it, “I know.”

“Then?”

“I mean,” Johnny paused, “I guess.” He sighed. He rubbed his face with his hand.

It was strange to see Johnny flustered about something. It was rare, and it never failed to catch her off-guard. Between the both of them, Johnny was comfortable being the one always sure about things; he was the one who not only knew what he wanted, but was enviably vocal about it. She did her part and waited patiently for him to find his words.

Johnny laughed, “You always do this to me.” He groaned, turning back to face her with renewed certainty in his eyes, “There is a laundry list of things I am so tempted to do to you. But I would never want to make you uncomfortable. I guess,” He paused again.

When she laughed at the repeated phrase, he joined with a pained one. “You’re laughing at me.” He groaned, the irony not lost on him.

“Only because I think you’re so cute.” She tugged at his t-shirt, leaving a kiss on his nose. He scrunched it, as if to protest, but it only cemented her statement.

He trapped her in his arms, pecking her lips a few times with a smile. “Exactly. I think I like being cute around you. I want to be your cute, domestic boyfriend Johnny. I didn't think I'd like that role as much I do and I was worried–”

“That I would stop thinking you’re cute if you spank me?” She scoffed.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, taking a strained inhale.

She reached up to leave a soft kiss on his eye, “We can always try it.” She said softly. His exhale was equally strained. “And other things." She hummed, "Doesn't mean we lose the comfort we have. If anything, I want you to be more comfortable. Which is why I wanted to know. You’re always holding back. I see it in the way you look at me sometimes.” She kissed the other lid, “I just want to know what it is. Be honest with me.” She kissed his forehead, “Trust me, so I can show that I trust you.” Johnny sighed at those words. “I don’t want your restraint.” She murmured against his cheek.

“You really cannot say that when you take it as a personal challenge to pull away all of my restraint. You’ve been doing it since we met.” He opened his eyes, chiding her.

The smile she gave him at that, shy but unapologetic, made him think that today would really be the day he would tell her of the things he only thought of mid-week when he missed her touch a little too much.

“See.” She smiled against his cheek, “That’s my kink.” She reached a hand out to rest on his neck, nails dragging up into his hair. Johnny shivered at the action. "I just love it. Pulling your restraint away from you slowly, watching you try so hard to keep your self-control together. It's so hot watching it fall apart." Both their breathing matched, heavy and eager. "You're so hot."

"Wretched little thing." He mumbled into her neck, making her skin erupt into goosebumps.

She smiled against his chin, "There's also that isn’t there? The difference in our general stature." A short breathless laugh left her when Johnny groaned, the sound shooting down into the depths of her belly. “What is it about it? I was always curious.” She pulled back from. Somehow looking into his dark eyes and finger-dragged hair was worse than being close to him.

“I just lose my mind over it.” He breathed out the confession, “You're so small, so precious." He laughed at his own words. "That sounds ridiculous out loud but," He chewed his bottom lip sore, her eyes settling on the now swollen flesh, "How your hands fit into mine. How you fit into me.” He paused, dragging his teeth over his lower lip again. “When I’m inside you.” He closed his eyes again, his breathing rapid.

She felt herself rub her thighs together. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She wanted to know these things about him, because was started to fall in love with him. She wanted to see every part of him and reassure him about it. Soothing the small doubts she knew her wildly confident Johnny still held. Instead, the room felt charged with the growing tension.

“Yeah?” She encouraged him.

“You take me so well. You swallow me with your pretty little cunt.” He groaned.

It was her turn to close her eyes, her breathing joining his in pace. This wasn’t at all how this was supposed to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

“There’s also something,” He continued. “That I think you’d like.” He granted her the mercy of closing the space between them again. She opened her eyes, waiting for him to finish. “Sometimes I think of how it would feel to have my fingers wrapped around your pretty neck.” He hummed, raising his hand to brush his thumb against her throat.

“Fuck.” She grumbled, “Johnny how could you possibly think I’d mind any of these things?” She sounded the cocktail of exasperation and arousal she felt. “Do all of those to me. God you’re absolutely insane for thinking I’d be adverse to any of these.” She whined, squirming as her body searched for friction. “I thought you’d say you want to hang me from the ceiling or something.”

Johnny's laugh sounded more like a pant. "No, nothing that intense." He brushed his thumb over her clavicles. "I think the furthest I'll go is a foot fetish." He sighed.

Her eyes blinked open, "You have a foot fetish?" She asked, surprised. Johnny gave her a nod. "Now see that one I'm going to judge you for." She put a finger on his chest, finding her volume again.

Johnny bit back a smile, "Why does that get such an extreme reaction?" A short laugh bubbled up his throat.

"Are you going to make me send you pictures of my feet?" She furrowed her brows, but her eyes betrayed the humour.

"Not if you don't want to, no."

"But you'll look at them? Like in a sexual way?" She questioned.

Johnny smirked, "How do you know I don't already? You have nice feet. Especially when you paint your nails or wear heels." He took the finger she put on her chest and bought it to his lips.

"That's a little weird I'm not going to lie to you baby." She scrunched her nose.

Johnny scoffed, "So you can like my hands but I can't like your feet?" He raised his brows at her.

She chewed on her lips, caught in the trap of his words. "That's a fair point. I guess you can keep that, then." She gasped when he took her index finger between his teeth, biting down just hard enough for the blood pool into her stomach.

"Don't knock it till you try it, (Y/N)." He warned, his tongue grazing against the flesh now imprinted with the mark of his teeth.

"What exactly am I trying?" She raised a brow.

"One of these days, I just might show you. For now, we both need to sleep." He dropped her hand.

She looked at him, dumbfounded. "We aren't having sex?"

Delight gleamed in his eyes at the indignation in her voice. "Tomorrow." The single word was a bond.

She groaned, too tired herself to put up a fight. "Absolute tease." She rolled her eyes, "That should have made it onto your list. Probably worse than the feet thing, as well." She huffed.

Johnny laughed again, pulling her closer to him till his chin rested on her crown. "I love you so very much." He sighed, the words making her chest bubble like a freshly popped can of soda.

She nuzzled into him, the action significant enough to make him smile. "I hope me thinking your feet are sexy isn't the deal breaker because I don't want to lose you." He mixed the heartfelt words with a lighthearted jab, something very quintessentially 'Johnny' to do.

"You wish you could get rid of me that easy, big boy." She shoved him lightly, "You're my daddy now." She tried to joke but Johnny groaned.

"Stop saying that." He warned, "I was hoping we'd go for brunch tomorrow. So we need to sleep."

"Such a father thing to say Mr. John Suh." She teased further.

Johnny chuckled into her hair. "Okay, enough. I didn't tell you all of those things just to be teased." He whined.

She shuffled to look up at him, "That's exactly what you signed up for with me." She pecked his lips once, "Good night." She smiled against them.

-

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Unintended Consequences

[littlebratao3]

blinding lights - j.m.

cw: dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, bondage, makeshift gags, rough sex, spanking, use of safeword, petnames, mentions of aftercare

word count: 2.8k

details: got three random prompts (in a car, gags, and dry humping/clothed sex) from a prompt list that i can no longer find bc i started this fic like, years ago so. yeah. this is what resulted :)

please let me know what you think, comments are always appreciated <3

“Wow.” 

The look on Joe’s face is priceless as your giggle sounds, “You like?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he comes up to take your hand and twirl you around, giving you more than a few once-overs.

“Understatement. You look stunning, love, absolutely stunning.” His smile is genuine, the look in his eyes is soft, and his touch on your waist is so tender that you almost forget to breathe. 

Red carpets and award shows weren’t your favorite thing, but this-dressing up and receiving nothing but praise from Joe about how good you looked made it all more than bearable. 

In front of the cameras, his arm is an anchor snug against your waist, smile confident and sure. 

And it was always even more fun after-coming home, stripping each other of suits and dresses and ties and fucking til the early hours of the morning. 

“Trust me, Joey. This,” you gesture towards your floor length dress, “is nothing compared to what I’m wearing underneath it.” 

Time slows down just a little as his eyes widen and darken simultaneously, his grip on your hips less tender and quickly turning desirous. 

Your hands grab at his wrists as you feel him begin to bunch your dress up. “Nope, sorry babe. You don’t get to see it until our own after party after the after party.” 

A growl sounds deep in his chest and his kiss is all teeth and tongue as he all but yanks your body closer into his. It takes every ounce of strength in you to pull away, the both of you breathless. 

He watches you like prey while you fix your dress, and smooth out his dress shirt, straightening his tie before smiling shakily-ignoring the extremely loud telltale signs of your arousal. 

“Let’s go, yeah? We don’t want to be late.”

The night drags on slowly and quickly at the same time, and with every semi quiet moment when Joe’s eyes meet yours-your pussy clenches needily and Joe’s cock twitches in his pants. 

Your panties dampen significantly each time you catch the look in his eye, and it only gets stronger as the night goes on and the inevitable draws closer and closer. His smile may be easy going to onlookers, but his eyes give way to every sinful thing he’s imagining. 

You smile, laugh, engage in conversation, and a little bit of drinking but the anticipation of how the night will end is slowly eating at you. Your mind flashes back to the initial look on Joe’s face when he first saw you, then the largely detectable shift in his eyes at your mentioning of what lies underneath. 

Imagining the dark and insatiable looks he’ll give you once it’s revealed is enough for you to push up and away from the table-a little more forcefully than you intended, drawing more than a few eyes over to you. 

“Sorry,” your smile is tight, unconvincing, “I’m just going to run to the ladies room. Nature calls!” 

You rush to the bathroom which is across the expansive room that’s currently filled with a-listers and celebrities laughing and drinking and celebrating. 

Slinking through them is easy, and as soon as your hand can reach the door to the bathroom, you’re pushing it open and letting it close behind you. Your back rests against the wall as you release a long and heavy sigh. 

The dulled noise of the party is more than comforting and the tension in your shoulders loosens slowly. 

You never realize how much being around crowds like that suffocates you until you get a moment to yourself. Shutting yourself into a stall, you carefully pull up your skirt, the thigh high sheer stockings covering your legs that connect to a garter belt, surrounding a brand new pair of cheeky black lace panties-the small seat of it currently damp with your arousal. 

While holding up the lengthy part of your dress in one hand, your other reaches for some tissue, snatching more than a few sheets off the roll. One stiletto heel balances on the marble floor, the other perched up on the toilet seat. 

A few quick wipes to your upper inner thighs and they’re no longer slipping as they rub against one another. You can do this, you think, taking a few deep breaths, it's only just what-maybe an hour more and then you get to go home. 

It’s honestly very doubtful that either of you would be able to make it that far. After flushing the toilet and fixing your dress, you exit the stall and clean your hands while you take a little more than a quick glance at yourself in the mirror.

Taking your phone out, you snap a few shameless selfies-deciding that the lighting was too good to go to waste-and then a few turn into several until you’re satisfied. You keep only two-out of ten-and save a silly one to send to Joe. 

As your thumb hovers over the send arrow, a wicked idea pops into your brain. Clicking the ’x’ on the photo you were planning to send to Joe, you reopen the camera app and head back into the stall. 

With your foot propped up on the toilet seat and dress hiked up and resting in your arm again, you angle your phone just right and snap a photo. 

The laugh that leaves you is almost sinister as you admire the picture. It perfectly showcases your open legs adorned with your garter belt and stockings-you don’t need to think twice as you send it to him. 

Once again, you fix yourself before exiting the restroom with renewed energy.

 The amount of time you take to make your way back over to the group is generous, loving the feeling of adrenaline pumping through your blood-strengthened by the loud music playing. 

Before they’re even in your line of sight, you feel a strong hand grip your wrist and you’re yanked back into a familiar body. 

His voice in your ear is deep and his words drip with irritation and lust as he whispers, “What do you think you’re doing?”

His grip has drifted from your wrist to your waist and it stays as you turn around, smiling sweetly, “Just having a little fun, Joey.” 

His stare is enough to make you squirm, palms sweating as that look entered his eyes-the one that told you he wanted to eat you alive. 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, baby.” You were almost convinced that he could feel your heart pounding in your chest with how close he had you pressed up against him. 

Neither of you are aware of anything happening around you, too busy being wrapped up in each other, eyes blaring and gaze unwavering as you breathe heavily, “What if I want to play?” 

And you’re not entirely sure yourself-too caught up in the moment and in his eyes, his touch, and his lips that bite yours more than they kiss. 

Your desire pools in the pit of your stomach and Joe chases your lips as you pull away. You couldn’t wait anymore and you could tell Joe felt the same with impatience rolling off of him in waves-feeling it in the way he held you and kissed you. He needed to have you now. 

“So… what’re you waiting for? Take me home, Daddy.” 

If you hadn’t been surrounded by hundreds of people and more cameras than you could count, you’re positive he would have attempted to throw you over his shoulder and haul you out of the room. 

Instead he settled for his hand gripping yours strongly as he guides the both of you through the room, dodging groups of people here and there until you reach a hidden exit. 

The cool air of the night bites your skin and things are a little less hazy and a little less suffocated with your arousal-until Joe is suddenly moving you into the backseat of his car and leaning into you after slamming the door shut. 

The haze returns as his lips come back to yours as he groans into your mouth, his tongue rolling against yours with such a fucking tease. 

“Please Joey, I need you.” 

He chuckles darkly, lips meeting yours for another bruising kiss. All he’s done is kiss you and yet you find it hard to breathe as you sit up when he leans back off of you, yanking his tie off his neck with a feral look in his eyes. 

“Oh, you’ll have me, don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough teasing tonight, kitten.” He shoves a hand between your legs, cupping your heat in his hand. 

It’s Daddy’s turn. 

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters and your legs spread open wider as a silent plea for more, but he chuckles as he removes his hand and slaps your clothed pussy, his smile breathtakingly sinister as you yelp. 

“Flip over and put your hands behind your back. Now.”

His tone leaves no room for argument so you turn around, your dress twisting with you and your cheek squishing against the seat as you put your hands behind your back. 

A whine leaves you as you feel him slip his tie around your wrists, double wrapping and tying them together. His fingers trace your stocking covered calf as he rucks your dress up, letting it pool over your hips.

Daddy’s baby is looking so fucking beautiful. 

Snapping the strap of your garter belt against your skin, a gasp tears sharply from you as he rips your panties open, leaving the material halfway hanging off of you. “Joe!” you whined. 

“Quiet, I’ll buy you another fucking pair.” 

You simmered silently in your anger while he admired your rear end. Prettiest little ass, he had muttered before decorating the skin, his hand landing across your cheeks three times in quick succession. 

An unpermitted squeal had left you at the unexpected pain that came and went, and it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Didn’t I say to be quiet, kitten?” He growled lowly, his voice coming closer to your ear, making you whimper. 

“I’m sorry Joey, I’ll be quiet. I promise.” 

“Oh, I know you will.”

His next words have you tensing slightly, “Open your mouth.” You know better than to question him so, opening your mouth-albeit hesitantly-a whiny gasp is muffled when he stuffs part of your dress into your mouth. 

His smile is dark as he looks at you approvingly. “There we go, that should help you out with that problem.” 

His hands are anything but gentle as they grab at your ass, squeezing the flesh while he asks, “What do you say?” 

You blink wetly at him from the corner of your eye as you try to speak around the material in your mouth-knowing exactly what he was expecting-, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

You can tell he’s pleased with your response even though he continues doling more spanks out on your ass. Your skin jumps with every resounding crack of his open palm against you, and the simmering pain adds to your arousal.

“Look so good, kitten. Good enough to eat.” You whimper at his words and push back desperately, trying to meet his tongue that was nowhere near your cunt, and cry out when he tuts disapprovingly, “Nope, none of that. You’ve done all the teasing tonight. Have you forgotten it's Daddy’s turn now?” 

You cry out into your dress when you feel the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your cunt, being coated generously in your arousal. You moan and tears leak from your eyes as your dress soaks up the please that falls from your lips. You can feel his cock throbbing against your clit, hot and hard as he moans prettily. 

“What, you want something? You want my cock? Then fucking beg for it.” His cock rubs against you more harshly as muffled cries of please and Daddy and fuck me leave your mouth in earnest. 

It’s all basically incoherent and Joe doesn’t tell you if your groveling was good enough or not as he’s suddenly plunging deep inside of you. 

You sob from the immediate combined feelings of delicious pain, stimulation of your g-spot and the feeling of his cock pulsating in you as he sets a blinding pace, all but pounding you into the car seat. The material of your dress is damp in your mouth as you scream, his hips snapping furiously against your ass as he fucks you. 

“This what you’d been wanting, yeah? Wanted to get me all riled up so I’d drag you out to the car just so you could have my cock?”

Trying to squirm away from the onslaught of his dick in your cunt is futile because you don’t get very far and Joe is immediately pulling you back on to him by the tie around your wrists. 

“No, you wanted my cock kitten, so take it.” 

And you do. Your pussy clenches around him at his words, whines and sobs muffled by the thick material in your mouth as Joe fucks you so good you see stars behind your eyes. 

Every thrust of his hips drives his cock deep into your pussy, the spot inside of you that makes you shake and tremble deliciously grinded into. 

Your orgasm hits you, it’s sudden and so fucking good that you’re reduced to nothing but a whiny litany of DaddyDaddyDaddy and pleasepleaseplease. 

Your ass stings as Joe pounds your pussy even as you convulse and tremble around him, sobbing incoherently as the fire in your abdomen blazes and your pussy throbs as your body comes alive when he reaches around your hip and under your dress, finding your clit and rubbing it. 

“Go ahead and come again. Show me how much you love it when I put your little bratty ass in its place.”

Your body listens to him before you do, trembling from head to toe as you squirt on his cock, no longer holding on to any control over yourself; that was long gone.

Joe’s hips stutter against yours, his breathing heavy as his grip on the necktie around your wrists tightens as he pulls you back on him once more. His cock throbs and swells before he comes deep inside you, thick and hot ropes of cum painting the walls of your pussy.

You whine as he slowly pulls out of you, and slowly pulls you up by your hair, silently guiding you to turn around. He yanks the saliva-sodden material from your mouth, thumbs rubbing your lips as he leans in and kisses you, tongue immediately searching yours out.

Your eyes are glossy, and he thinks to himself, good girl, until he looks down at himself, all disheveled and messy. And you can feel his cum slowly dribbling out of your well-fucked cunt beneath the skirt of your dress.

“Would you look at that? Look at the mess you made kitten, you ruined my best pants.” 

Deep down, you know he’s not genuinely upset but you’re too deep in your head to be anything but remorseful as he’s still regarding you with that stern tone, so you pout and your eyes water a bit as he looks at you disapprovingly. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, baby. Clean it up.”

Your wrists are still tied behind your back as you sniffle and lean forward, your tongue coming out to lap up the cum-his and yours combined-from his crotch. His dick twitches in front of your face, slowly hardening again as he watches you, eyes dark and brows knitted together.

When you’re done he’s yanking you up by your hair so he can pull your lips to his, biting and sucking on them as he tastes the both of you on your tongue. 

It makes your thighs quiver underneath you and your arms are near cramping when he pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe. 

You’re still huffing as you squeak out red, and gone is harsh dominant Joe, quickly replaced with soft eyes and soft touches as he starts to ask what’s wrong. 

You beat him to the punch before the words begin to leave his mouth as you speak up, “I’m sorry, my arms are cramping. Please untie me?” 

He’s already loosening and freeing your wrists from behind your back before you even finish asking, and his voice rolls through you as he meets your eyes. 

“There’s no need to apologize, at all. I’m the one who’s sorry, ducky.” He rubs your wrists with his thumbs before taking hold of your face, leaving kisses along both of your cheeks, your nose, forehead, chin and then your lips. He doesn’t even need to say it because you can feel it. You feel it in every moment when he kisses you-his love, his affection, his care, for you. “Such a good girl, my good girl.” 

Your head is still feeling floaty and his words make you feel all warm inside as the praise sits deep within you. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Bath?” 

“Yeah, of course I’ll run you a bath, kitten.”