#i feel like this past week has really set it in stone for me u know

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes. #* #this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 25 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

“Surrender to me. I will eat this sweet pussy every morning for breakfast. I will be your slave.”

You don’t believe him, of course, but there is a growing desperation in his pleas that fills you with warning. He’s been patient with you, but you wonder if someday this man will not snap.

He has you tied up again.

You’d watched him produce the red ropes earlier with resignation, but surprisingly, no fear. You realize that you have arrived at a place of relative numb, where you have accepted he will not satisfy you without your submission, but you trust him not to really hurt you.

Drive you absolutely batshit insane, maybe. But not hurt you.

You’ve had time to think about it, and you know there are so many things he could have done by now to really win your compliance. He could have beat you. Starved you. Drugged you. All the usual dirty tricks men have used to keep independent women in line over the millennia.

He has not so much as spanked you, really, except for that once the other day, and even you know that had been child’s play.

More and more, you have come to understand that this man has been through it. He’s told you more about his brutal past, curled up with his head in your lap, spilling his soul to you while you stroked his dark hair. You have discovered that once he feels safe, the taciturn Mr. Wick actually has a lot to say.

If you hadn’t been sleeping beside him, the signs of PTSD might have escaped your notice. But after over a week in his non-stop company, you have woken beside him when he’s riddled with night terrors, his strong hands gripping your body hard enough to leave bruises. Sometimes he zones out, and you know he's not really seeing the room you're in. 

After hearing about his training (as a fucking child soldier!) and the things he had to do to survive over the years working for the Bratva, trapped in a cycle of violence he had little power to escape or control, you honestly think it’s a miracle that he’s come out of it as intact as he has—and goddamn if there isn’t a part of you that wonders if you cannot bring him back.

You should know better by now, than to think you can fix a man with your love. It’s a mistake you’ve made before, in your younger years, and you should know that nothing lies down that path but disappointment and heartbreak. But…what else do you have to do with your time?

Take up knitting?

You had watched him with a distant fascination, as he looped your wrists in the cord, securing them with beautiful knots before affixing your spread arms to the metal headboard. You had thought the curled iron design of the bed to be very pretty, but now you understand the form of it is perfect for knotting ropes in various positions.

You’re not sure how long he’s been torturing you with his tongue, bringing you right to the edge licking your clit with his fingers buried inside you, before withdrawing right at the last moment. He always fucking knows, even when you do your best to remain still as a stone. You have been going through your days in a constant state of low-burning arousal, perpetually wet with slick and uncomfortably swollen. You feel where his body has been every time you sit down, keenly aware of what he’s done, and what he hasn’t allowed you.  

“My poor darling,” he continues to taunt you, taking a break to nip at the inside of your thigh, your soft flesh already riddled with little bruises. “Why do this to yourself, when with three little words I could set you free?”

You cannot hold in your ragged sigh. “It’s kind of nostalgic really, just like my first boyfriend in high-school. Getting fucked constantly with no real hope of satisfaction…”

Wick responds to this with a snarl, the way you knew he would. Jesus Christ but his teeth are sharp. Suddenly he sucks at your clit with a vengeance, making you squirm and cry out in surprise. Of course he stops before you even have the chance to make use of the friction.

“I do not want to hear about the other men you’ve had in your life,” he cautions you. “I’m the only one who counts now.”

“Could have fooled me.”

When he gets on his knees with a dark look, you do feel some satisfaction. You’ve learned if you piss him off enough, he’ll try to punish you by taking his pleasure and leaving you hanging. At this point, you’re just relieved that it’s over.

“That smart mouth needs filling,” he growls, guiding his tip to your lips, and you let him fuck your face, sucking his glans messily with a swirl of your tongue the way you’ve learned drives him mad. The only time he catches a hint of teeth is not your fault, but his, in his enthusiasm for trying to shove his cock down your throat. It’s not long before he cums, spilling hot seed across your tongue. Some of it dribbles down your chin, and he wipes it across your lips with narrowed eyes, daring you to spit it out.

You’re foolhardy, but you’re not stupid. You lap it from his finger like a good girl, watching the post-orgasm glaze take over his midnight dark eyes.

The monster will be sated, for a little while.

You’ve bought yourself time, but no real relief.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

[dreamersparacosm]

austin butler - into you [part 4]

warnings ; this does indeed contain smut and lots of it 

prompt ; in which fate keeps bringing you and austin together. or, in which you two finally figure it out. 

a/n ; i cannot BELIEVE this is the final part of this series :( im gonna miss it so much!! and for that, i present to you a two part smut (its literally 11k words) i have fed yall for eons and this is the grand finale. also - the word ‘dress’ has links attached to it so u can see what i envisioned the reader wearing at the events (quotev core) thank you guys so much for sticking with this series. <3 with that said, enjoy!!

part one | part two | part three 

It had been a month. Thirty days. That’s how long you had gone without seeing Austin. Well, not exactly. You did see him; on the cover of magazines, interviews, etc. By far, your favorite source was Twitter, where you got a front row seat as to who he was dating at the moment. Last week, he was seen with Kaia Gerber. This week, it was some other random girl who’s name you didn’t even bother to remember. I turned down so many girls for you, he had said. Clearly, he was okay with reaching out to them again. Yet, with you, it was stone cold silence. To be fair, you had never responded to his heartfelt text message. You also might have blocked his number. You did mean to reply. However, days ticked by and you kept ‘meaning to’ respond, but never actually did. Instead, you let your eyes stare at the message for hours before crying some more.

You also spent most of your nights crying over the pictures of him with other girls. He looked happy. In theory, it was what you wanted for him, but after spending the past two years learning about his favorite childhood memories and the foods he only ate when he was drunk, you hated the idea of anyone else having him. You also despised the idea of someone touching him like you had. Or, even worse: him kissing someone like he used to kiss you. Pretending you still didn’t harbor feelings for him was proving to be more difficult than you thought.

“You ready to go?” Your best friend, Megan, spoke from the bathroom of your apartment. She was your date to the W Magazine’s annual party, and seeing as you had no new suitors in your life, you thought it was best to go with a friend. Your publicist had offered numerous times to set you up with someone, but you declined, saying ‘it was no use to spend time with a man you wouldn’t like.’

Nevertheless, you were ready. Well, sort of. You were still sitting on your bed in your black dress, mindlessly scrolling through the pictures of Austin with his new girl of the week. Megan rounded the corner, sighing when she saw you still on your phone. “[Y/N], we have to stop doing this,” she sat down next to you, taking your phone out of your hand and turning it off. “Why don’t you just reach out to him?”

“It’s not that easy,” You muttered. You meant that. The fear of rejection was far greater than anything else. You didn’t want him to tell you he had found someone better who was ready to love him the way you couldn’t.

“He told you he loved you, and I really think he meant that! No one says that during sex AND in a text message if they don’t feel that way about you,” Megan scoffed, rubbing your back soothingly as she comforted you.

“I know he loves me, I do,” you played with your hands in your lap, staring down at the floor. “I just wish I hadn’t been stupid enough to not tell him I love him the way that he loves me, and want to be with him.”

“Listen, I’m not gonna tell you everything’s going to be okay. But, what I can promise, is you are the most beautiful person ever. You are an amazing actress and friend, and the world needs to see that tonight,” she stood up, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, are you gonna get up and do a twirl for me, or do I have to make you?”

You pursed your lips, looking up at her. You appreciated the kind words, knowing she had the best intentions. It was just hard to imagine yourself smiling for the cameras and posing on a red carpet. “If I have no choice-“

“No, no, no,” she grimaced at your words. “That is not the spirit. There are going to be hot men galore at this event, and you mean to tell me you’re not the least bit excited?! Who’s to say you won’t meet your soulmate there tonight?”

These were very true words. Although your hope for love was slim to none at that point, there was no way you were going to win an argument against Megan. She had seen you through your worst breakups, but deep down, she knew she had never seen you this depressed over a man before. Megan knew the basics of the story between you and Austin, but didn’t want to pry and open a can of worms. Mustering all the courage you could, you stood up, meeting her height in your heels. “If I don’t meet my soulmate tonight, I’m blaming it on you.”

She chuckled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You can do whatever you want as long as you get in that car downstairs. I promised your manager we would be on time and we’re definitely not going to be.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I made the same promise to her,” you laughed before grabbing your handbag and following her out the door of your apartment where your driver waited for you patiently. The two of you hopped into the car, jamming out to music along the way. You hadn’t been to a red carpet event in over two years, and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You forgot what it was like to be under the bright lights, to have camera flashes blinding you. It used to be a drug for you, to have that much attention on you at once. Now, it just felt like a chore. It was almost as if Megan could sense your nerves, and she reached out to place a hand on top of yours.

“You got this tonight. I am going to be right there with you every step of the way. Not only because I want my picture taken, but also because I love you,” She smiled, and the first part elicited a giggle out of you. You knew she was right. You had been doing red carpets since you first entered Hollywood, and you knew how to excite a crowd.

The car screeched to a halt, and you heard the screams of commoners that were barricaded behind silver bars. Once you saw your supporters, you knew it would all be worth it and you would be reminded as to why you adored being an actress. You gave Megan a knowing smile before exiting the car, your driver propping the door open for you. Almost immediately, cameras began to capture your glamorous exit from each angle. “[Y/N]!” They yelled out, all trying to get your attention simultaneously.

“Oh thank god, there you are,” your manager rushed up to you from around the corner, rolling her eyes as she checked her watch. “I knew you were gonna be late so I lied about the time you had to get here. At least now you’re on time to pose on the carpet.”

“Bad time tonight,” Megan spoke up from behind you, eyebrows pointing towards you as your manager seemed to catch her drift.

“Great, perfect, fine,” she said, slowly walking you towards the beginning of the carpet. “Remember, big, big smiles! You’re a big Hollywood actress and there are talks about new movies you’re going to be in next year so I need you alive and ready to answer all questions.”

You knew the drill. Pose where they told you to, answer what they wanted to hear. You nodded in agreement, flattening out your dress and tossing your hair behind your shoulders. You strutted towards the entrance of the carpet, turning around to look at Megan for support again. She smiled, giving you two big thumbs up. I can do this, you told yourself. I am okay. Tonight, I am okay.

And, with that, you took your first step onto the carpet. “[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Look this way!” Photographers yelled at you from all angles, and you focused your eyes straight ahead, smiling slightly as you posed for the cameras. You always made sure to give them a show, and you blew multiple kisses to the cameramen. You saw your manager and Megan had migrated to the opposite end of the carpet, waiting for you to finish your photoshoot. However, for one moment, you basked in the glory. You were on top of the world. You finally felt as if you were back where you belonged, and nothing, or anyone, could take that away from you.

Your manager beckoned you to come over to the end of the carpet, and you waved goodbye to the crowd walking over. “That was amazing, babe! You look so good, the magazines tomorrow are going to eat this up.”

“I hope so,” you grinned. “That was the best I’ve felt in years! I forgot how much I love-“

You were interrupted by Megan’s incessant tapping on your shoulder. You scrunched your eyebrows, turning to look at her. She gulped, leaning down into your ear, “Please, please do not turn around. We are going to go inside and have a good time. We are going to drink lots of champagne and get drunk.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You rolled your eyes, looking behind her to see what she was talking about. Sure enough, you wished you hadn’t.

Austin Butler stood on the red carpet in a black suit, a silver chain adorning his neckline. He looked amazing. He smiled and waved at the cameras, and it seemed like he knew exactly how to pose. He always knew what he was doing. Despite him being humble, there was no denying that he was going to be the most attractive man at the event that night. Your vision went blurry, mind reeling as flashbacks of your relationship with Austin flew through your brain. Your heart could barely contain itself in your rib cage. You knew you had to see him again at one point, but tonight? Tonight was the first night you were ready to allow yourself happiness, and it was all crumbling down. The weight of a thousand bricks felt as if they had collapsed onto your chest.

Soon enough, he had caught your gaze.

He froze in his tracks, mouth slightly gaping open as he took you in. Your black dress had a slit in it that showed off enough of your leg to leave it up to imagination. Red lipstick ran across your plump lips, hair done in perfect curled waves. He thought you looked stunning. You immediately looked away, incessant curse words flying out of your mouth. “Oh my god, it’s [Y/N] and Austin! Come together for pictures!”

You were sure you were going to strangle the cameraman who just said that. However, you had quite literally no choice or say in the matter. Before you knew it, your manager was side-eyeing you, nudging you in the direction of Austin, the man you were pretending you weren’t desperately in love with. It felt as if time had stopped completely. You re-entered the carpet, ready to give the performance of a lifetime. Because, now, with about 10 cameras around, you two had to pretend as if the last two years had not happened. You had to act as if you weren’t longing for his touch, to ask how his day with, to hear his laughter again. At that moment, you two were just co-stars. Nothing hurt more than that. You finally reached him, and he smiled at you feebly as he snaked an arm around your waist, smiling for the cameras.

No tears. No crying. You had to repeat it to yourself twenty times. You smelled his scent before, but now, it felt like daggers to your heart. You had all these secrets about him bottled up inside of you, and now you had to pretend like it meant nothing. After what seemed like forever, you finally removed yourself from his embrace, thanking the camera and nearly jogging off the carpet. Austin knew better than to chase after you and yell your name, although, that is all he wanted to do. You grabbed Megan’s hand, and she gave it a firm squeeze as you two entered the event. Loud rap music echoed from the speakers, and chatter bounced off the walls. “Are you okay?” Megan whispered in your ear, coming out as more of a small yell.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head. “But I will be after I get a drink.”

“That’s the spirit,” she patted your back, leading you to the bar area where you both ordered ‘extra strong’ vodka cranberries. You surveyed the room, hoping to see others that you knew. Among some of the attendees were Andrew Garfield and Jamie Dornan, faces you recognized almost immediately. One of the most thrilling things about being a celebrity was the extravagant parties that were always happening, and it was usually filled with familiar faces; from movies or red carpet events.

“How is everyone here so attractive?” Megan screamed into your ear as you both downed your drinks, ordering another round soon after. It was true, everyone there was beyond gorgeous. You and Megan went back to searching around the room for anyone interesting, and your heart almost flew out of your body as you saw Kaia Gerber in the corner, making friends with some other actors.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You closed your eyes, taking another sip of your drink. Megan looked over to where you were looking previously and widened her eyes at the sight of the model.

“Oh my god, do you think they came here together?” She asked innocently, feeling buzzed off the drinks she had consumed.

“I really fucking hope not,” you finished your second drink, motioning to the bartender to make you another one. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, though. He was spotted with her 2 weeks ago.”

“Jeez, you really have been stalking him,” Megan crossed her arms over her body, standing in front of you to block you from staring at Kaia. “Listen, we just need to dance and forget about him. If he wants you, he’ll come get you. And if not, we will find you someone hotter at this party.”

You were starting to feel a buzz throughout your whole body, so you let Megan guide you to the dance floor. The DJ was playing overplayed music that allowed you to dance to all the lyrics. It was just the right kind of moment you needed with your best friend. Laughing at each other’s dance moves, you both swatted off multiple men trying to join in on your little dance circle. However, despite the constant distractions, you managed to make eye contact with Austin as he talked to Kaia.

You didn’t want to let him get to you again, so you just ignored it. It was proving hard to do that because you could feel his eyes burning holes into your body as you danced to your favorite song. He didn’t want to look at you. He wanted to focus on what he had in front of him, to see if you still cared about him and make you jealous. He just couldn’t stop looking at you. And you really hated the way his eyes felt on you. By accident, you made eye contact with him again, and you watched as he broke your gaze, leaning in to kiss Kaia. You couldn’t even register what was happening, and you didn’t even want to bother being in his presence anymore. Without letting Megan know too much, you tapped her shoulder, causing her to pause her dancing. “Hey, I’m gonna catch some fresh air. I’ll be right back.” She nodded, resuming right where she left off.

You exited the doors of the event, taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself. You saw the sign for the restroom, and you deemed it best to hang out in there before you had to go in again. It was too early for you to leave, and your manager would have a fit if you even tried it. You could barely get a chance to open the door to the single-stalled bathroom before you felt a hand on your waist, gently pushing you into the bathroom. Whipping around, you came face to face with Austin. “What the fuck are you doing in here?!” you quipped immediately, “This is a bathroom.”

“This is the only way I could get you to talk to me,” He retorted.

“Get out of here!” Your voice raised in a threatening tone, however, he seemed unnerved by your words. He knew you did not mean it. “You can’t just follow me in here and expect for us to just have a grand ol’ chat.”

“[Y/N], I just have some things I want to say-“

“No, no,” you moved towards the bathroom door, trying to make your escape, but Austin blocked the door as soon he saw you migrate in that direction. “Just let me through! I don’t want to talk to you, don’t you get it? We have literally nothing to talk about.”

“You really believe that?” He chuckled sarcastically.

“Yes, I do,” you spoke through clenched teeth. “You need to go back out there to your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he rolled his eyes. He knew you were going to be difficult, and he hated to admit that was one of the things he loved most about you. You always stood your ground during situations, whether it be in his favor or not. “We’re just hanging out because my publicist set us up.”

“Yeah, and I bet you’re having fun with that,” You tried to move past him again, but he gripped your shoulders, placing you in front of him. You shrugged his grip off your shoulders, clenching your jaw and looking away. “Holding hands, kissing all over the place-“

“What, are you jealous or something?”

You were. You had never been more jealous in your life. The thought of him holding and kissing Kaia pained you more than you could admit to him. The past month, Austin had taken note that you weren’t photographed with any men. In fact, social media hadn’t been an accurate source on you, because you had gone MIA after flying back to the U.S. He had tried tracking you down to see what you were up to, but you had made it nearly impossible.

“No.”

“You love lying, don’t you?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” you shoved his shoulder, hoping to get access to the door, but that didn’t get you very far. “Austin, I’m really not in the mood for this. I was having a good night-“

“Doing what, staring at me and Kaia?” He couldn’t help but crack a small smile. He knew what he was doing to you, and in a way, he almost enjoyed your incessant cat-and-mouse game.

“No. Enjoying my night with my friend, which I would love to get back to doing.” You were definitely lying again. Knowing that he was willing to trap you in a bathroom left you with some, to put it nicely, rated R thoughts. However, you knew it was wrong to do that to Kaia. You just wanted him so bad.

“Listen, [Y/N], I’ve tried reaching you numerous times. I tried calling you, texting you, I even reached out to your publicist. So, if trapping you in the bathroom is the only way I can talk to you, then so be it,” he took a step towards you, and you couldn’t even move. You were glued in your spot. You had blocked his number after he had texted you while you were on the plane home, so you weren’t made aware of any advances he made towards you.

“What is there even to talk about?” You questioned, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know you love me. And honestly, I’m very in love with you too. I don’t want to play these games with you anymore,” His eyes pierced into yours, and in that moment, you felt tiny. You knew everything he was saying was true, and you wanted to do better and be better but you weren’t sure if you were there yet.

“So what if I love you? It doesn’t mean anything, Austin. It’s still not going to work between us,” You reminded him.

“[Y/N], I want to make this work. Please. I haven’t stopped thinking about you ever since our last conversation,” He took one more step towards you, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. “Do you want me?”

Your voice was no louder than a whisper. “I-I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t- I can’t. I don’t know what I want,” you tried to keep your composure as you took in his scent, his pheromones bouncing off the walls.

“I want you. And I don’t want just the sex. I want the cuddles at night, I want the ‘I love you’s’ I want the dinner dates. I know it’s scary for you, but I want to show you that it doesn’t have to be,” He reached out to move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you looked up at him.

“Do you want me?” He repeated.

“Austin, it’s not that simple,” There was no going back now. He already had you in too deep.

“Why can’t it be?” He retorted, his hand moving to prop your chin up, never breaking eye contact for a moment.

“You want me?” You had to hear his answer, although you knew what it would be.

“Yes.”

He didn’t hesitate for a second, knowing that if he waited a minute too long, you would panic again. Deep down, every part of you was itching to kiss him again. Oh, how you had missed the feeling of his plump, pink lips against yours. “We shouldn’t do this, Austin,” his lips were now mere inches away from yours. The tension in the room was palpable, you could cut it with a knife. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. But, he had set your entire body on fire and you couldn’t look away from his piercing gaze.

“Why not?”

You gulped again, his hand still grazing your chin. “Because you have a girl out there waiting for you.”

“This isn’t about her. This is about me and you, right now,” He replied, tone down to a whisper. Lips almost touching, he murmured, “Say the words, and I’m yours.”

You didn’t have to say the words. He already knew your answer. With one look at his lips, you found yourself leaning forward and messily pressing your lips against his. He fell backwards against the bathroom door, leaning behind to lock it as his other free hand found your waist. Hoisting you up with one arm, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he navigated towards the sink countertop, setting you down gently. Your legs remained around his waist, lips never wavering away from him for a moment. You pulled him in as close you possibly could, trying to feel as much of him. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, guiding you as he slipped his tongue in between your lips, and you felt your body become electric again. You had craved this feeling. You needed this.

He began to kiss down your neck, and little moans fell from your mouth as he pushed your chin up. He sucked on the sweet spot in the middle of your neck, leaving something that was sure to raise eyebrows tomorrow. You didn’t even care if anyone saw it, you were too lost in the pleasure to care about anything anymore. “I want to make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” His tone had darkened. You cupped his face in your hands, kissing him again with as much passion as you could muster. You had never missed anyone more than you had missed him.

“I need you,” You spoke in between kisses. Fuck your ego, fuck your self-respect. All of it went down the drain when he was kissing you. He reached behind your back, slowly and teasingly unzipping your dress. His shirt and blazer were nearly torn off his body, anticipation seeping through your bloodstream.

“This dress is an absolute stunner, by the way,” he whispered in your ear as it dropped to the floor below the sink. “Nearly came in my pants the minute I saw you in this.”

You were left in your matching black corset that was worn underneath your dress, and black lace underwear. Austin’s eyes glazed over your body, hunger clouding his vision as he pulled you back in for a passionate kiss. His hand moved towards your neck, lightly choking you as his lips danced against yours. “Get on your knees, baby. Need to see your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.”

The wetness that had pooled in your underwear grew at his words, but you obeyed him immediately, getting off the sink and feeling the cold tile against your knees. You palmed his erect cock through his dress pants, looking up at him seductively through your eyelashes. He groaned at the look in your eyes. “I missed how hard you would get for me,” you spoke softly, slowly unzipping his pants to reveal his boxers.

“It’s all for you,” His voice crackled slightly near the end of his sentence as you pulled down his boxers, his erection falling out, red and throbbing with precum. You dropped your head down to lick his pulsing tip. Austin let out a low moan as he studied you intensely. His hands gripped your hair as you slowly sucked the head of his penis into your mouth. You moved at an excruciatingly slower rate, dipping a little further. You then took him out of your mouth, only to pause, establish direct eye contact, and go even deeper the next time. Austin trembled as you swirled your tongue around his tip, which you knew was his most sensitive area. "Fuck," he had to hold the countertop next to him to keep from falling over with ecstasy.

He'd never forget how it felt to have you all to himself, seeing how you looked with his member within your mouth. As you began to move up and down faster on his cock, all he could think about was how your mouth felt better than he remembered. He ached to be buried so deep inside of you, making you scream his name and letting every single person at this event know who you belonged to. Austin refused to take his gaze away from you, and he couldn't take it any longer. His hand pressed against your head, allowing you to delve deeper onto his cock.

Austin grabbed your hair in a sloppy ponytail, causing you to move quicker. He moaned and closed his eyes before bucking his hips and ramming into your mouth. His tip started hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. His eyes shot open wide at the sound and sensation it created around his cock. Your lips swallowed the entirety of his member. If you kept going at this rate, Austin knew he wouldn't be able to last. His stomach muscles tensed, and he soon recognized the familiar sensation. As you licked a stripe on the vein on the bottom of his length, he felt himself twitch in your mouth. Noting that he was close, you removed your lips from him, wiping your mouth with your finger and taking a taste. “You always taste so good, baby.”

Slowly getting up, you leaned in to kiss him again, and he tasted himself on your lips. He needed to be inside of you, now. You pulled away from his lips, smiling at him coyly before kissing down his neck. He appreciated the teasing, but he had never craved to be buried deep inside of you like this before. “Oh,” he moaned softly, like putty in your hands. You placed your lips back on his, stumbling backwards onto the countertop of the sink, where you found yourself sitting upright. Austin moved in between your open legs, sliding your panties to the side, pressing two fingers to your bundle of nerves. You jumped at the contact, biting your own lip to contain the moans. He began to rub circles around your throbbing core, and you threw your head back, letting a few moans fall from your lips. Austin knew exactly where you needed him, and wanted to get you there as fast as he could. “God, sweetheart, you’re always so wet for me.”

He watched as you squirmed under his touch, and he stuck one finger into your entrance, causing curse words to exit your lips. He thought you looked gorgeous during this moment, when you were losing control of yourself. “Please, more,” you whimpered, and he obeyed, sticking his index finger into you. Pumping them in and out of you, he curved his fingers to meet your g-spot, and you yelled in response. Your entire body shook with delight, and you could barely hold yourself together. He was hitting your sweet spot while simultaneously rubbing your clit. It was all too much for you to handle as you felt yourself get lost in the pleasure. Stars washed over your vision as you screamed out his name along with other profanities, streams of liquid exiting your body. He watched as you squirted onto the countertop, your legs shaking incessantly as you rode out your high. He had never seen you do that before, and he was about to come just from the sight.

Before you had a chance to gather yourself, he pulled your legs towards the edge of the countertop, slamming into you with all his might. You gripped the edge of the sink, your clit still throbbing and red. “Austin!” You screamed out as he overstimulated you, burying himself so deep inside of you he could’ve sworn he saw his member reach your stomach. You leaned forward, clawing down his back. “Oh my god, baby, I can’t-“

“Take it,” he spoke firmly. You had no choice but to listen, your walls still clenching from your previous orgasm around him. He suddenly pulled out of you, helping your limp body off the sink as he posed you in front of the mirror, your back to him. You took the moment to look at the two of you in the mirror. Sweat beaded at his forehead and your makeup was a disaster. He ran a finger through your folds, smirking to himself when he realized you were still dripping.

Pushing your back down, you gripped onto the sink, facing the mirror as he positioned himself at your entrance. He put just the tip in, not letting himself get carried away like last time. “Please,” you begged for mercy. He looked up and met your eyes in the mirror, fisting your hair and putting it into another messy ponytail. Slowly but surely, he dove deeper inside of you, feeling your tight walls engulf him. You both moaned at the feeling at the same time. Austin began to pick up his pace, watching as his cock slid in and out of you with ease.

“Look in the mirror while I fuck you, princess,” He demanded, and the sight in the mirror was enough to drive you crazy. You were bent over the sink as he pounded into you, gripping your hair tightly in his hands, your tits bouncing. As you both watched yourselves in the mirror, you realized how you two adored each other. The way you looked in the moment was so submissive. You were submissive for him.

“You look so pretty with my cock deep inside of you,” He paused his movements for a brief second, thrusting at an agonizingly slow pace. He knew he was hitting the spot where you had craved him the most. He never wanted anyone to fuck you like this ever again.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” You said as he picked up the speed again. You watched him in the mirror, sweat glistening on his shoulder blades as you caught him losing himself in you.

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm not going to last much longer," he whispered, his voice breathless and desperate. His thrusts became sloppy, and his eyelids clenched shut as he concentrated on pursuing his release. "I'll fill you up all the way. You're such a good girl for me."

He leaned forward, his hand clamped around your neck as he brought you to his face. He kissed you, a sloppy kiss to match his clumsy thrusts. He broke away again, his face contorting in delight. "I missed fucking you like this," you stammered before his cock jerked inside you, white, hot sperm shooting from the tip deep into your core. The heat of his fluids poured into your entire being, your body convulsing from the pleasure. The words you tried to say were drowned out by a shamelessly loud moan of his name that Austin made no attempt to muffle. His hips gently moved higher, allowing the juices that had flowed out of you to combine with his own.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out as he almost fell into you, his head falling to your shoulder as you both tried to regain yourselves. You didn’t have any words besides those three little words he wanted to hear. You knew you had to overcome your fear, because you had realized that the thought of living without him was worse than the fear of heartbreak. Deep down, you knew he would never do anything to intentionally threaten your relationship.

“I love you,” You blurted out, and he perked up immediately, head moving up to make direct eye contact. A cheeky grin spread across his face as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. He had been aching to hear you say it first. It was all the confirmation he needed to pursue you romantically. “I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Your happy moment was short-lived, however, as you two were startled by loud knocks on the door. “[Y/N]! I swear to god if you’re in there, I’m going to lose my mind!” You both eyed each other in horror before Austin slowly began to laugh. You slapped his arm, slowly putting your underwear back on.

You inched towards the door, unlocking it carefully as you pried the door open just enough to see Megan’s angry expression and hide your half-naked body behind. “Hey…bestie,” you smiled feebly.

“Don’t you dare ‘bestie’ me! What the fuck are you doing in here? Do you have explosive diarrhea or something-“

Megan stopped in her tracks as she made eye contact with Austin behind you. She immediately put the puzzle pieces together, her face contorting as she realized. “Oh, you have got to be kidding.”

“How about you give me a second and then me and you will head on out?” You smiled again, closing the door inch by inch before it finally was shut and locked. A moment of silence was heard between you and Austin before the two of you simultaneously began laughing hysterically. You felt bad for Megan, you did, but you definitely didn’t regret the look on her face.

“The look on her face!” Austin said between laughs, pausing to wipe his tears. He bent down to pick up his dress shirt, and you struggled to put your own dress back on while giggling.

“I basically deserted her at an event where she knew no one, so I actually do kinda feel bad,” you turned your back to him, motioning for him to zip your dress back up. “She’s gonna be mortified forever.”

He turned you back around after he zipped you up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You know, I feel like for all your troubles I can at least take you out to dinner.”

For once, the fear that always resided in your heart wasn’t clouding your judgement. You didn’t want to make the same mistake as last time, because you knew he was the one you wanted to be with. You needed a fresh beginning with him, and there was no better time than the present.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in for another kiss before saying, “I would actually like that very much.”

+

Dinner was nothing short of a success. If people were hoping to hear a Hollywood love story, you two might have taken the cake. All the delicate ways he spoke to you, comforting your fears and reminding you that he loved you was enough to allow you to open yourself up. He watched as you became his confidante, his best friend, and most importantly, his lover. He had asked you to be his girlfriend after 2 weeks of consistent dinner dates, not even bothering to check in with either of your publicists, the excitement too much for him to bear. Austin loved you the best way he knew how; unconditionally. Realistically, the two of you had to keep your relationship quiet since you didn’t want anyone to think it was a publicity stunt for Elvis.

Telling the man who made it all happen, Baz Luhrmann, was a different story. You had called Baz one night after dating Austin for a month, deeming it an acceptable amount of time before telling your close inner circle. He had raved about how much he loved the two of you, saying ‘I knew it’ the whole time. Austin had tried to beat you to the bunch by calling Baz during your call, but you just loved saying the words, “Austin and I are dating.”

No one outside of your circle knew about your relationship, not even your parents or friends. It was better to keep it professional so people did not assume. Austin hated it, however. All he wanted was to hold your hand in public, or post you on his Instagram for the whole world to see your beauty. He had begged you numerous times for just one picture, but you knew better and told him to be patient. Plus, you enjoyed having him all to yourself in your bubble. The movie premiere for Elvis was about a month and a half away, and your lives would be in a frenzy after that.

The Met Gala was something you had been invited to for three consecutive years until the pandemic hit. You were not new to the scene of extravagant parties disguised as charity events. Your stylist had been working day and night to find you a perfect dress for this year’s theme, and after much trial and error, you found a dress that you loved. It was a stunning gold dress with embellishments, and Austin nearly fell out of his chair when he saw you at your fitting. This year felt different, however, as you would be attending the Met Gala with your co-stars for Elvis. You and Austin were to be front and center of every camera.

Nerves were striking the two of you like never before. You also had been warned by both of your publicists numerous times to not show any sort of affection outside of friendship. Even the slightest of touches could be taken the wrong way. Now, the two of you did not follow the rules. You two were always doing things you weren’t supposed to be doing, so everyone was on edge. Austin just hated the idea of someone thinking you were still available.

“Baby, I’m back!” You heard Austin’s voice ring out from behind the walls of your bathroom in your shared hotel room, where you were being zipped up, poked, and prodded by multiple stylists. It was the night of the Met Gala, and you had sent Austin out to get you a small snack while you were getting ready. He was already adorned in a gorgeous black Prada suit, and you had only thought to yourself how lucky you were after you saw him. You wanted your look to be a bit more of a surprise, as you were getting all dolled up for the event.

“Don’t come in yet,” you warned as your makeup artist put the finishing touches on your face. “I’ll be out in a second, I swear.”

“I feel like you’ve said that thirty times already,” Austin’s voice traveled closer towards you, just outside the door of the bathroom. “I just want to see you! I’m sure you look stunning, angel.”

You blushed at his kind words, your makeup artist, Dana, gagging and rolling her eyes. Giggling at her reaction, you stood up from your chair as she began to put away all her makeup. You looked in the mirror, falling in love with the person you saw. Your team did an amazing job helping you prepare, and you had never felt more confident to tackle the red carpet. With a deep exhale of excitement, you swung open the door to reveal your boyfriend waiting patiently. His eyes immediately widened, jaw slack as he took you in. “I- oh my god, [Y/N]. I-I, just, wow.”

“Do you like it?” You did a little twirl in your dress, and he caught you in his arms after your spin.

“You are literally the prettiest girl I have ever seen,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek softly, laughing when he heard Dana complain about ruining your makeup.

“This is probably the first time I’ve ever been excited and nervous to go to the Met Gala,” you fixed a strand of his hair that had fallen in front of his face. “The only good thing is we can get drunk later.”

“We’re absolutely getting hammered on Anna Wintour’s dime,” He chuckled before the chaos of the event sunk in for both of you. Both your managers were flying around, making sure you were going to be on time for your separate photoshoots and red carpet engagements. This year, you were heading to the event with the cast of Elvis, with a special sighting from Priscilla Presley. That excited you the most, since you had spent a lot of time with her preparing for the role. The car ride to the event was nerve-wracking, with Austin squeezing your hand and kissing your temple to calm you down. You hated that once you exited the car, not only would you be separated, but you would also be expected to act as friends and nothing more.

Nonetheless, you were an actress. You could pull off playing another role for a night. Plus, running around and hiding? A turn on for both you and Austin. The fear of getting caught ignited something in him you had never seen before.

“You look beautiful, my love, don’t forget,” Austin kissed your cheek one more time before allowing himself to sink back into secrecy. Soon enough, you were greeted by thousands of flashing lights as you exited your car into the night air. Baz, Austin, Priscilla, and Catherine Martin were all behind you. You immediately wanted to reach for Austin’s hand, but instead, you waved to the crowd. Ascending up the lavish stairs, you turned back around to wave again, allowing yourself to get your picture taken numerous times. Austin watched from below the steps, falling more in love with you, if that was even possible.

It was taking all his strength to not run up the steps and kiss your luscious lips. Even when you two had finished taking pictures and answering questions from interviewers, he still wanted to mount you right then and there. But, he knew better. He knew he would have to wait, or he could make the wait worth your while.

Plus, these events got a little boring sometimes.

You walked through the exhibit in the museum, entranced by what you saw. It was truly beautiful. Austin trailed not far behind, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the way your hips swayed in your bodycon dress. He could barely contain himself. He reached out, placing a hand on your waist when no one was looking. You looked up to meet his eyes, turning to him and whispering, “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, gulping harshly as he looked down at your doe eyes. You looked so innocent and it took his breath away. You had no idea what kind of pain he was going through trying to keep himself together at the event. He removed his hand from your waist quickly when he saw someone turn in your direction. You scrunched up your brows at his reaction before turning back around to walk into the dinner portion of the event. You two were seated at the table with the rest of your co-workers, however, Austin had a different kind of hunger brewing.

Austin pulled out your chair for you, and you thanked him before settling down. You barely got a chance to even sit down before he already had a hand placed on your thigh under the tablecloth. Your dress had a small slit in it where your bare skin was showing, and he was taking that to his advantage. His fingers ran over the bare skin, shivering. You immediately swatted his hand away, widening your eyes at the contact. Hoping he would get the hint, you turned away to observe your surroundings.

That did not stop him. He instead placed his hand right where he had before, gripping your thigh hard enough to make you exhale a breath. “Austin,” You whispered, your eyes trying to avoid his. He was compelled to you in every way possible. “You need to stop it.”

“Why?” He leaned in, whispering into your ear. “I can’t help myself.”

You shuddered at his words, the fear of getting caught causing your stomach to do somersaults. “Don’t do this to me now. Not here.”

His hand slowly moved up past the slit of your gown, approaching dangerously close to where your nude lace underwear adorned your bottoms. With a deep inhale, you clamped your thighs shut, reaching out to chug your glass of champagne. If he kept this up all night, you wouldn’t last very long. He let his hand linger, stagnant as he began to strike up a side convo with Baz. Thankfully, the lower half of your body was covered by the tablecloth, so you were sure no one could see what he was trying to do. Too many thoughts were running through your brain, struggling to ignore Austin’s lengthy fingers near your dripping core that burned with angst.

He watched as you squirmed in your seat, in awe with the way he held so much power over you with just one touch. You also couldn’t stop thinking about what you couldn’t do, making you want to do it even more. He gave your upper thigh a right squeeze before ending his conversation with Baz, leaning in to whisper, “You think I can’t feel you clenching your thighs, baby?”

You inhaled a deep breath before turning your head to shoot daggers into his eyes. This charade could not last any longer. You excused yourself from the table, taking your glass of champagne and walking around the event to entertain yourself with other people. Austin stared at you from afar as you spoke to other actors, and he twitched with jealousy when he saw the way they looked at you. You even got as far as touching some of them, knowing Austin was still glaring at you. As the event went on, more people stood up from their tables to converse with the other attendees. Austin took this opportunity to walk up to you, pulling you aside for a moment, “So sorry to steal her, we’ll just be a second,” He had said to the man you were talking to.

He tried to guide you to the dark corner of the ballroom discreetly, where you would be hidden from the other guests (and your publicists) as much as possible. However, there were a few telling looks from others. He led you up against the wall, eyes darkening as he looked down on you. There was a glow in your eyes, different from what he normally saw. You loved having the power. He just wanted to snatch it from you. You toyed with the collar of his suit as you maintained eye contact, “It’s so hard to spend this much time away from you.”

“It is,” he nearly croaked. His whole body went limp. “You look so fucking beautiful in this dress and everybody wants you, but they don’t know you’re mine.”

You leaned into him a little more forward, letting your cleavage fall out even more from your fitted gown. Your hand slid down his chest, and he watched your freshly manicured hands as they traveled. He was in a trance. “I know. But, I know I belong to you. They can look all they want.”

He looked around carefully before cupping your face in his hands. “I’m going to make sure you don’t forget that tonight, darling.”

Your lips were tingling, begging to be kissed by him. The wetness that pooled in your underwear almost dripped down your inner thigh. He looked away from your eyes to look at your lips, and he leaned in a little more, brushing them against yours. Your eyes begged him to make that move, to push into you and give you some form of contact. Instead, he whispered against your lips, “Just wait until we get home and we have more than 5 minutes together.”

And just like that, he pulled away from you, causing you to gasp abruptly. He winked at you before walking back into the event, causing you to stand there and try to smoothen yourself out. You watched as he began to talk to some of your other fellow actors, and you were trying to figure out how to act as if you weren’t hot and bothered. The night dragged on, with stolen glances between you two as you tried to keep yourselves occupied, in agony. You had never been in heat like this before. It felt crude to be so promiscuous at an event like this, but it was thrilling to watch him crumble as you did things to tease him, such as showing a young group of men how to tie a cherry stem with just your tongue. His jaw clenched with jealousy, ignoring the conversation he was once apart of.

He then had the luxury of watching you twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes flirtatiously at another men, and that’s when he might have lost it.

Austin stomped up to his publicist, asking shortly. “Am I allowed to leave yet?”

She squinted her eyes suspiciously, before slowly nodding and saying, “I mean, yeah, I guess you can-“

She barely could get the words out of her mouth before he was walking up to you and grabbing your arm. You were shocked by the display, looking up at him and smirking as you realized why he was being so rough. He nearly dragged you out of the doors of the Met, dropping your arm as soon as he saw photographers lingering around. Austin looked around to find his limo desperately, as he was already rock hard in his dress pants and needed to be inside of you at that moment. All he wanted to do was touch you, but he couldn’t because of those damn photographers.

His driver finally turned around the corner and you two wasted no time clambering into the backseat, windows tinted. Austin reached out to shut the window that connected the two of you to your driver. Once you were both out of earshot, he grabbed your face and firmly pressed his lips against yours. It was sloppy, lips never moving away from each other for a second. As he assaulted your lips, his hand reached out to grasp tightly around your neck. You could barely breathe, but you were too busy, intoxicated by him. “Look what you did to me, baby,” his eyes gestured down to his pants, where you could see his erection growing by the second. “I bet you thought you were fucking slick talking to those boys, making them think they had a chance.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” You let the last word slip without caution. You weren’t sure if it was the champagne talking or what, but Austin’s eyes widened at the pet name. You two had never played around with his daddy kink, but he had never realized how amazing it sounded coming from your lips.

“You need to be a good girl, [Y/N],” He ran his fingers through your hair, eyes piercing into your gaze. “Now, be a sweetheart and give daddy what he wants.”

You nodded eagerly, knowing exactly where he needed you. He needed your lips wrapped around his cock, pumping him. You can only comply, blinking often as your trembling hands travel to the elastic of his underwear. You had been longing for Austin all night, not any of the males you had been chatting to. As you glance up to meet his gaze, one of your hands moves over to palm over his totally stiffened erection, wrapping your fingers over the covered shaft. He sneers and tangles his hands in your hair, producing two fists. "Don't tease me, [Y/N]," His tone is ominous and threatening. You ignore him and carry on with your movements, pressing delicate lips against his hard-on. You lower your head, out of sight of everyone except Austin.

You recall his instructions, but you dismiss them for a few seconds, gently moving your tongue along the bottom of his cock, all the way to the tip, where you kiss it once. You can feel him tremble as you take just the tip of his cock into your mouth, running your tongue around it, maintaining eye contact with him. For a short second, he closed his eyes and lay back against the headrest. He then cracked his eyelids open, revealing their darker tone.

You stared up at him with doe eyes, licking him carefully before taking him completely into your mouth. You moaned against his cock as you ran your lips and right hand down his length. The sensations made Austin shudder. You slid your manicured nails down his thighs before gently taking hold of his balls and lightly stroking each one.

Austin groaned, pushing you down on his cock further than before, with his precum hitting the back of your throat. “Just like that, baby,” Austin looked down at you, and you do as said, your own wishes of dominance diminishing by the second. He had put you in your place. You had no desires to disobey. Tears stained your face as you struggled to take him all into your mouth. For some reason, he felt even bigger tonight. Spit dribbled from the sides of your mouth, gagging noises exiting your throat. You came up for air, and Austin reached out to wipe your lips free of spit and his juices with his thumb. “You did so good, baby,” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Austin, I can’t wait,” you muttered against his lips. “Take me. Take me now.”

“You need me that bad?” His thumb ran over your cheek. You nodded incessantly, almost like a little girl. “I know you've been needing me all night, watched you clench your thighs half the time.”

“Please.”

He smirked, pressing wet kisses down your jawline to your collarbone. The zipper in the back of your dress was easily accessible for him as he slid down the straps of your gown with ease. He didn't know how long you two had left in the car, so he tried to be as discreet and quick as possible. Your gown fell onto the floor of the car, leaving you in your bra and underwear. Austin’s eyes checked again to make sure the driver couldn’t hear what sins you two were committing in the backseat. You straddled him, grinding your fully-clothed crotch against his bare dick, and he whimpered at the contact.

"Baby, we need to be quiet. We don't want to get caught," He said quietly to you. He smirked, shifting his hips so that his length glided perfectly between your folds. You both let out a collective sigh at the sensation that was so foreign to you at that moment. Austin covered your mouth with his hand. He gave you a few seconds to acclimate to your new position and his length, and then you found yourself bouncing up and down as hard as you could in blissful delight. Austin's hips bucked up, as if he were attempting to bury himself even further inside of you.

The sound of your fluids enveloping his cock was one of the few noises in the car, and Austin almost passed out from the sensation. His free hand, which wasn't covering your lips, reached down and gripped your hip, directing you to grind against him. You whimpered against him, your eyes squeezed tight as you struggled to keep the noises from escaping your lips. Austin could tell that you were already on the verge of cumming.

Your moans were muffled by his hand, and if he wasn't already, the entire city would have heard you by now. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he struggled not to make any noise. As you both picked up the pace, your head smacked the top of the car a few times, his hips pushing up to reach your cervix. His lips were once again glued to the area between your neck and shoulder. You shook your head, indicating to Austin that you were about to release. You couldn't stop screaming against the palm of his hand. He had his lips in between his teeth and had been on the verge of a very powerful orgasm for some minutes. He only needed one thrust in the proper position to push both of you over the brink. Your eyes were closed in concentration as you urgently tried to find your release.

“Holy shit, baby. Keep going. I’m so damn close,” He murmured, sweat beading at his forehead. You felt his cock twitching inside of you. You bit Austin’s hand to keep yourself from screaming, but you couldn’t help the moan. Your walls tightened around Austin, black washing over your vision as he emptied himself inside of you. Both your movements became sloppy as you both rid out your highs. He removed his hand from your mouth, collapsing onto the seat next to him. Knowing it was a matter of time before you reached your hotel, you immediately reached down to grab your gown and try to put it back on over your sweaty body.

Sensing the urgency in your movements, Austin helped you gather yourself, slightly chuckling at how disheveled you two looked. Once you were done getting redressed, you cuddled into his arms as you drove through the streets of New York City. “I love you,” You spoke into his suit, and he smiled brightly. It rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, because for once, you were not scared. You knew that you had met the person you were destined to be with forever, and now, all there was left to do was reveal it to the world.

+

A month after the Met Gala, you had found yourself on yet another red carpet: the Cannes film festival. However, this event held more meaning for both you and Austin, because Elvis was being shown to the world for the first time. Nerves wracked your entire body like never before. Austin had been such a supportive boyfriend for you, making sure to always check in with you and see if you were okay. He had his own fears to get over, but he was adamant on making sure his lover was taken care of. The plane ride to France was filled with sweet kisses, hugs and numerous “I’m so proud of you’s.” Words would never be able to do justice to how proud you were of Austin.

You two were still dating in secrecy, and the bubble had not been popped yet. In the last month, you had gone to several events separately, only to end the night in each other’s arms in your hotel room. Your publicists reminded you before the film festival: Do not, and I mean do not, show any PDA. Not yet. Austin was finding it harder to keep the secret than you. This evening, you were styled in a red dress with red lipstick. It was all very glamorous, and you were excited to be seen in pictures. They allowed you and Austin to match for the sake of the movie, letting him wear a red tie.

Although the night seemed like a movie so far under the Cannes night sky, there was one catch you forgot to mention to Austin: your ex-boyfriend was at Cannes. He was starring in one of his own films, and it had been on every headline for weeks. [Y/N] and [Your Fav Celeb] To Attend Cannes Festival: Reunion of The Century. You were shocked as to how Austin didn’t find out. Nonetheless, you seemed it best not to mention, knowing it would only make him jealous.

Interviewers flocked around your cast and crew, asking numerous questions about the film. Austin took the lead on many questions, or Baz would step in to agree and add something else. You tried to make as little eye contact with Austin as possible, but it got difficult when he just looked so damn good. The interviewer wrapped up asking questions to the men of the group, switching over to you and snapping you out of your daydreams. “And [Y/N], you play Priscilla Presley. How was it like stepping into those shoes?”

You had gotten that question a billion times, but you smiled and answered the way you had been prepared to, “Well, Priscilla is such a resilient woman, and it was an absolute honor to play her. We did a lot of chatting, a lot of hanging out. She really is the best person and I knew I had such big shoes to fill, but it was the best experience of my life.”

Your interviewer nodded, leaning over to ask Priscilla a few questions as well. After she was pleased with her answer, the interviewer came back to you. “[Y/N], do you have any other films you wanted to see while being here at the festival?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You knew exactly where she was going with this. “Uh, not any that I can think of right now. Every movie premiered here is amazing.”

“Did you plan on supporting your ex-boyfriend, [Your Fav Celeb]?” You could feel Austin shifting uncomfortably behind you, and you gulped with anxiety. What did she even expect you to say to that? Knowing you couldn’t let her see you slip, you just let out a small chuckle.

“Ah, I do wish him the best! Definitely would check out his film, I’m sure he worked very hard on it,” you smiled. “But, I’m actually seeing someone else currently, so I don’t have much else to say on the matter.”

Your interviewer seemed more than pleased with the news. They always thrived off getting information that no one else had, and they would do anything to get the story. It was one of the worst things about being in Hollywood. She congratulated the cast again, and your group moved down the red carpet. Austin was silent as he walked behind you, and you wanted to reach up and give him a big hug. He had every right to be uncomfortable, as you were more than sure you would be too if you ran into his ex-girlfriend. “So, he’s here?” He whispered into your ear behind you.

“I think so,” you looked straight ahead. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to upset you.”

“It’s not your fault, baby,” He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Just tell that fella you’re seeing currently that I hope he treats you right.”

You giggled at his joke, rolling your eyes. You two continued down the red carpet, stopping to pose for pictures. The flashes burned your orbs, coming from each angle. If it weren’t for the arrows on the carpet bringing you back to real life, you would have lost your balance. “[Y/N]! [Y!N!]” You smiled and waved to the people yelling your name. “Where’s your ex-boyfriend, or your new man?”

Ignoring the question, you continued to pose. If you paid it any mind, they would continue to pester you. However, Austin was on the sidelines, fists clenched in anger at the thought of people speculating about you and your ex. He knew it wasn't smart to be jealous like that, since he knew you wanted nothing to do with your ex. It was just the fact that everyone thought you wanted him, and not Austin. All Austin saw was blind rage. He wanted to run up to you and kiss you, and make everyone realize that he was the man you were seeing.

And, that was exactly what he did.

Marching onto the red carpet, he looped an arm around your waist, taking you by surprise. Before you had a chance to question his actions, he pressed his lips against yours hastily. Your heartbeat was flying out of its chest before you melted into him. He didn’t give a damn about what his publicist said, or yours for that matter. All he cared about was that everyone knew you were his. Your hand reached up to his cheek, cupping it gently as you heard the camera flashes, applause, and yells. It felt like it was so distant, because all that was in your bubble was you and Austin.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes before giggling childishly. You couldn’t help the blush that creeped up on your face as you realized half the world was going to watch you make out with your boyfriend. Photographers screamed your two names as you both walked off the red carpet. There, stood your two publicists, arms crossed. You had never seen them look so angry in their whole life, but they knew better than to scold a young couple in love.

Once you two were out of earshot from the cameras, Austin pressed numerous kisses to your face. “You’re my best friend,” he spoke in between showering your face with kisses. “-and my lover. How did I get so lucky?”

You let out a laugh, trying to bat away his lips at a desperate attempt to save your makeup. It was moments like these that reminded you that it was okay to let yourself fall in love again. As for Austin, he realized that he had finally met the person he wanted to be with forever. He had put in the time and work to be with you, and now, he got to share one of his greatest successes with you.

Nothing mattered anymore. Austin had the girl of his dreams, and god, he was so into you.

+ 

masterlist + request

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler elvis #austin smut #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #smut #elvis 2022 #elvis #priscilla presley

[lucidicer]

hi olli! do you have any tips on developing your ocs above the surface level like personalities, traits and such? i feel like with i know my ocs but not to an extend of having them fully developed? do you use any prompts and what advice could you give to someone who's terrible at building pinterest board for their ocs? 😭 thank you <3

omg hi!!! first of all im flattered that u came to me of all people to ask this omg? and absolutely!!! gonna do it under the cut cause i have a lot to say <3

okay i get what u mean abt not knowing an oc past the surface level omgg it takes a lot to break through that, ive had vin as an oc for i think just over two years and it's only recently ive truly been able to get deep into his core. i find that doing ask games and such for ocs helps me because it forces me to think of aspects i never really considered so my first tip is look at ask games, you dont need to have the questions send to you to answer them!! it helps develop your character in the smallest ways that can snowball into bigger aspects of their personality. you can find some at @ocaskmemes also @develop-your-oc is SOOOOO useful omg their tag page has everything you could possibly need!!!!! also i LOVE using this ask game by @/deathbypufferfish for developing romantic relationships between ocs!!! i like to keep all the answers in a document to reference later!! (also those cute as hell oc sheets? a god send. if you search oc profile on pinterest u can find so many!!)

fully developing an oc is pretty tricky tbh so don't feel like you need to have everything set in stone within a week or smth, take your time, switch ideas around, scrap things entirely. in the end this oc is YOURS!! you don't need to have their entire life known to you for you to enjoy them!

pin boards for ocs are also helpful for development tbh. when you start a board dont expect it to be amazing right away like my tang board is terrible and its only recently ive figured out how i wanted it like just look at the difference (top is the new one)

expect your boards to be bare bones when you first start them!! usually i have a vague idea for an oc when i start them like their appearance and for solitude specifically i know what their issues are no matter how undeveloped it is. i like to start with like appearance based pins first tbh cause it sets good ground work like eye colour, hair colour, outfits etc (these are all subject to change so don't feel tied down to them) and trust eventually you will reach an aesthetic you like. just keep adding things that make u think of that oc!! u can clean it up later when you have a more solid idea of what you want. one of the big things i recommend is to follow other simblrs on pinterest, if you want some good ones just look at the people i follow (@/lucidicer on pin) look at their oc boards they can really give u some good inspo and dont be afraid to steal the pics pdjfhjdhg. also BIG one...add 'aesthetic' to all your pinterest searches 😁

just have fun and go crazy :D ENJOY UR SILLIES!!!!!!!

#i hope this was helpful!!!!!!! i tried to add as much as i could think of from the top of my head :) #good luck nonny i believe in u <3 #olli.txt #asks

[urbearfriend]

more ranting wow <3 so unexpected

#new grizz era: complaints #like i said before #pls don’t read this shit if it’s annoying to u just like tune me out pls #i cant stop thinking about him :( i keep telling myself if i give it distance we can still be friends but my gut feelings r so awful #i don’t want to let him go yknow #his bf fucking hates me i’m pretty sure? ughhhhdjjdj #he only likes me when ** **** :| #this won’t end up ok but i still like ***** so much …. literally i won’t him so badddd #UGHHHHHH #whenever i smoke it’s like omg romance <3 wowowowowowowoowwoo #but then i wake up in the morning and remember i am most likely unloveable #i feel like this past week has really set it in stone for me u know ? like before it was kicking my brain around gently now it’s like THIS. #THIS IS THE TRUTH ………. #like fuck you inner thoughts but also yeah #negative

[ptergwen]

Hi can u do where like arvin grandma takes him to church and he meets a ‘nice’ girl but really she’s kinda like him and he finds her smoking behind the church thanks

angel

w/c: 1.4k

warnings: swearing, smoking, and suggestive themes

a/n: alright i went overboard this is pretty long 😭 sooo enjoy

-

“grandma, do i really have to-“

“you’ll come say hi to her. she’s a real sweetheart, arvin,” emma pats her grandson’s hand, which she’s leading him by through their pew to yours. she’s been gushing about you all week.

your parents and her ran into each other while buying groceries, and they spoke for a bit. about upcoming town events, about the heat, about their families. you and arvin of course came up. judging by how lovely your parents are, emma had a feeling you’d be the same. that sparked her idea to introduce arvin to you.

she likes the thought of arvin hanging around a nice girl. she’d wanted the same for her own son, although it didn’t quite work out. it’s only a matter of time before she’s pimping lenora out to a pearly white smiling church boy.

“you say that about everyone, grandma,” arvin sighs, lighthearted but with a hint of annoyance. he’s not so sure he’s into nice girls. or, that nice girls would be into him. no offense to you because his grandma has been talking you up, and you do sound great, but maybe not for him.

emma puts on her best smile as the two of them approach you. “just say hi, won’t you? give her a chance.” “alright, if that’s what you want,” arvin mumbles back, running his now free hand through his hair. your mom gasps in pleasant surprise. “oh, emma. wonderful to see you again,” she greets, you and your dad standing up so she can get over.

the women hug while arvin stands there, disguising an eye roll for a look up at the ceiling. you squint at him and smirk to yourself. you’re intrigued.

your parents had mentioned something about you meeting a boy, your mom more enthusiastic than your dad. he wasn’t too on board with it. he’d said the “russell boy” had a reputation, said he was rowdy and whatnot. that was meant to scare you and your mother off. she dismissed it, and your interest was only piqued.

“yes, dear, so wonderful,” emma agrees, grinning at your dad over your mom’s shoulder. he takes a step towards her, making small talk. “how’s it going?” you watch arvin while the three of them catch up. he’s got his hands in his pockets and a clenched jaw. he doesn’t look particularly thrilled to be here. not at church or in your pew.

you snicker at him, and he snaps his head in your direction. the movement is sharp, yet somehow subtle. you’d been expecting the kid to bounce off the walls from how your dad described him. he actually seems pretty quiet. intimidating, yet quiet. it’s hot.

arvin catches a small smile from you. he nods in response, then shifts his attention back to his grandma when she nudges him.

“remember i was telling you about my grandson?” emma asks your parents, both of them affirming. she glances over at you. “this is arvin.” “hi, nice to meet you,” he drawls and extends a hand for your mom and dad to shake. your mom keeps it short and polite. your dad does it with a firm grip, one that arvin matches.

“strong boy,” he comments. “oh, you think so?” arvin jokes back. that earns a glare from your dad, who perceives it as him having an attitude. you take it upon yourself to say hi to arvin next. one, because you aren’t liking the tension. two, because you want to.

you step past your dad so you’re in front of arvin. “i’m y/n,” you say with another smile. “arvin. nice to meet you.” he sticks out his hand again, which you ignore, going straight for a hug. he’s not sure where that came from. either way, he hugs you back by your waist. you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“you wanna get out of here?” he’d fucking love to. he already promised lenora he wouldn’t sneak out of service again, though. “can’t. my sister’ll kill me for it,” arvin murmurs back, you pulling out of his arms. he finds himself disappointed by the absence of your body. your parents and emma are back in their own conversation, so you can speak freely.

“aw, cute. you’ve got a sister. you listen to her?” you’re teasing, a glint in your eyes. you don’t seem like the sweetheart his grandma made you out to be. arvin likes that. “she’s a...” he lets out a breath, trying to come up with a way to describe lenora’s love for church. “you know, this stuff’s important to her.”

“not you?” you wonder, clasping your hands behind your back. “nope. i reckon you’re the same,” arvin hums and scratches his gelled hair. “listen, how about i meet you out back later? nice girls go to church, don’t they?” he throws the last part in to flirt. you pick up on it, poking at his chest and lowering your voice. “who says i’m a nice girl?”

“come on, y/n/n. service is about to start,” your dad interrupts, taking you by your wrist before you can protest. “see you later,” you call to arvin. “yeah, see you.” he grins as him and emma walk back to their pew, where lenora is anxiously waiting for them. they’ll grill him about how he likes you later. right now is the lord’s time.

your words ring in arvin’s head the whole time the reverend drones on about whatever he does. so, you’re not a nice girl. he can’t wait to find out what that means.

when the service ends, lenora and emma line up to speak with the reverend and everyone else waiting. arvin sets off to find you. you’re the only two not still in there, so it shouldn’t be hard. he heads out the back door because he doesn’t want anyone, meaning your dad, to see him.

you’re leaned against the building with a cigarette between your fingers, puffing out a cloud of smoke just as arvin spots you. your lips turn up in a half smile when you take another drag off of it.

“there you are,” you speak, words muffled from the cigarette. you retrieve a box of matches from the waistband of your skirt and dangle it before him. “need a light?” you’d noticed a pack stuffed into his jeans earlier. he’s not so good at hiding them, if he was even trying to. you could teach him a thing or two about being more lowkey.

arvin pulls a cigarette from his pack and shoves it into his mouth. “didn’t take you to be a smoker,” he rasps as you strike the match up, bringing it to his cigarette. you then throw it on the ground and stomp it out with a knowing smile. “i told you, i’m not what you thought i was. whatever my mom told your grandma.”

“mm,” he confers, breathing in and taking the cigarette from his mouth to exhale. “heard you were a straight a’s student. you’re in lots of clubs and all that.” you scoff, bringing your own cigarette to your lips again, further blurring his good girl image of you. “when i cross out the d’s and lie, sure.” arvin chuckles at that and leans back against the stone wall.

“you’re not like your family one bit, huh?” he already knows you aren’t. “nope. i think they’re the reason i’m like this, anyway,” you admit, fingers innocently circling over his bicep. innocently. “i’m doing the whole rebel without a cause thing.” your hand squeezes at his arm, waving out your cigarette and dropping it in the grass.

“what about you? my dad said you’re a fighter.” arvin clears his throat and looks down at your feet. they’re moving, closer to him. “sometimes, for my sister. i was tellin’ you she’s different from the other kids. they pick on her.” that gives you a new sort of admiration for arvin. you thought he was cool, now you think he’s also kind. he thinks you’re... beyond words. in a good way.

“sounds like you’ve got a good heart to me.” you press your fingers into his skin, this time with a smile that’s sweet. he isn’t sure if he prefers this one or the one that has something sinister behind it. “well, thank you,” arvin drops his hand to your hip, adding on, “angel.” he’s well aware of what he’s doing by calling you that name. you click your tongue.

“angel? mhm, i’ll change your mind about that.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #arvin russell #arvin russell imagine #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell x reader

[scripturiends]

anchor up to me, love

Read on ao3

Summary: Prosecutor Jin forces an unexpected confession out of Joonhwi during Yeseul's trial.

Rating: T

Word count: 1226

Notes: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve received the same request over the course of two weeks. It seems like a lot of people really want a proper courtroom confession scene, so this is my best interpretation of it right now. I say ‘right now’ because ideally, I’d set aside a schedule to write this well, but given the inevitable time constraints in my life thanks to uni, I feel inclined to tell you all that as soon as I woke up, I wrote this on my Notes app in bed for one hour because that was all the free time I had. The idea came to me in a dream, so it just felt right to jot it all down at that very moment.

As usual, this fic is unedited so all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy!

~

"Who is it?" the prosecutor urged.

Han Joonhwi knows that Jin Hyeong-u would never let him off the hook if he didn't answer. That if the man on the opposing side of the courtroom didn't ask now, he'd just ask again later. So as much as he hated it, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Prosecutor Jin is cunning, Joonhwi will give him that. And after all that the law student has done to rile up this supposed well-meaning law enforcer in the past, it was pretty much inevitable. The man has him right where he wants him.

Joonhwi swallowed his pride. One deep breath, and then, "Kang Sol."

From the audience, he could see his long-haired brunette friend perk up, stealing a very long and very obvious glance at their black-haired classmate with the bob.

Of course she thinks it's B, Joonhwi thought. Always the selfless Kang Sol A. He made a mental note to make fun of her for it later, but not until —

"Which one?"

The dreaded follow-up question.

"There are two Kang Sols in your study group," the prosecutor started. "Yes or no?"

Joonhwi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes."

"So which one is it? A or B?"

Prosecutor Jin's eyes were unyielding on Joonhwi's, so he knew this was a challenge. If he were doing this on his own, he'd be quick to respond. But after that mishap with Seungjae, he's learnt his lesson: never run your mouth mindlessly. That's how Prosecutor Jin gets you. That's how he wins.

Breaking eye contact first, Joonhwi looks towards the platform. "Judge, I don't see how this is relevant."

And before they could even say a word, Jin was already quick to retaliate. "When the defendant was hospitalized, you called on a friend to assist you with obtaining photographic evidence to prove that Ms. Jeon wasn't trying to flee. That friend was Kang Sol – A, was it?"

Turning to the jury, he continued, "Depending on his answer, we might have to call on Ms. Kang to the stand to verify her relationship with Mr. Han, and depending on her answer, she could either be acquitted, or be a secondary accomplice for attempted murder."

The jurors nod while Jin wraps up his explanation. “But if it were Kang Sol B... that might be enough to clear the suspicion."

Joonhwi mentally cursed. He was running out of cards to play, and Prosecutor Jin's little nod towards his direction, mouth smeared with a bragging smirk, was not helping.

The judge pulled his mic close to him. "Witness, please answer."

Think carefully, Han Joonhwi.

He could feel the entire audience's eyes on him — which usually doesn't scare him, but right now he feels boxed in. Cornered. The smallest he has ever felt, and not because it was his own life on the line, but because he fears dragging the person he loves into this mess.

It's funny how a simple letter can make or break this case. A or B. Fact or fiction, true or false. Love or not.

If he told the truth, he'd be setting himself up for failure. But if he lied, he'd be committing perjury.

Prosecutor Jin is good. He's managed to slip into the cracks of Joonhwi's personal life and possibly ruin any chances he has at a lovelife. Needless to say, as a 28-year-old man who is still single to this day, his self-esteem has taken a hit.

But there's no way Joonhwi is letting that happen. This is a trust fall exercise between him and the person he cares for. If she cared for him back, even just a little bit, he'd have nothing to worry about. He could just protect her the moment he gets called in again.

Now is not the time to falter. If she feels the same, he'll know when she testifies.

On the plus side, her parent is here so it's like killing two birds with one stone.

Joonhwi straightens his back, and with a wave of confidence he leans into the mic, finally answering, "I'm in love with Kang Sol A, your honor."

—

Joonhwi sat at the very back of the courtroom, ridden with anxiety.

With Sol A being called in as a witness last minute, he couldn't catch her at the right moment to apologize for what he did. For publicizing a confession, for making her go to the stand a second time, for everything.

This must be the end of our friendship, seems to be the only thought in his mind. And that's the thought that scares him the most. Not going to jail, but the thought of possibly losing Sol A in the process.

He watches her take her oath, demeanor blank unlike the first time she was there. Joonhwi's fear was taking over — was she annoyed? Was she mad? He couldn't tell. Her face normally said it all, but right now he can't read her whatsoever.

All of Prosecutor Jin's questions flew over his head, especially the ones about the night of Ko Yeongchang's accident. All, except for one.

"Han Joonhwi's feelings for you..." Prosecutor Jin trailed off. “Do you reciprocate?”

Sol A scoffs. "You tell me, big shot. You're the one who forced a confession out of him and made me go up here."

Joonhwi's lips twitched into a small smile. She's defending him.

"Just answer yes or n—"

"I wanted to protect Yeseul so badly,” she began, "that when she fainted, I was dead set on following her to the hospital no matter what. But when Joonhwi said I shouldn't, I didn't even question it. I trust him that much."

Silence enveloped the courtroom, but Sol A didn't even pause one bit. "Don't misinterpret my actions. I care about Yeseul, but I care about Joonhwi more."

And Joonhwi knew that wasn't true, that Sol A definitely loves Yeseul more, but that was enough to solidify their narrative to the jurors.

—

Despite the empty seats in front, Joonhwi spotted Sol A walking towards him with her head down. She didn't even look him in the eye as she sat next to him, their shoulders barely touching until she cleared her throat and inched closer.

Joonhwi did a double-take when he saw that her ears and her cheeks were red, but he chose to ignore it for now.

"Sorry for making you lie on the stand," Joonhwi apologizes.

Fiddling with her nails, she mumbles, "I wasn't lying."

Then, she added, "Unless you were."

He scoffs half-heartedly. Until now she's still doubting his sincerity. "I would never commit perjury. Not when I'm still trying to impress you."

Sol A scoffs in return, covering her face in her right hand, embarrassed. Like she couldn't believe this was happening. She lightly bumped his shoulder with her own. "I'm impressed."

Joonhwi may not have completely overturned the case in Yeseul's favor yet, but he was extremely lucky to have at least outsmarted Prosecutor Jin in the process. More than that, he was lucky to have the quick-witted girl right next to him. To have not just her trust, but also her heart was enough luck for more than a lifetime.

Joonhwi was right.

This was a trust fall exercise, but instead of him catching Sol A, turns out he was the one who fell instead.

Thank God she caught him.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

#jtbc law school #law school #kang sol a #han joon hwi #solhwi #joonsola #kim bum #ryu hye young #kang sol a x han joon hwi #fics #mine #jtbc #jtbc kdrama #korean drama #otp: why couldn't you be here sooner

[aubreyprc]

favourite crime

part six of my sour series 

for @florenceremingtonthethird who asked for hotchniss + favourite crime, hope you like it bestie💘💕💓💞 (also big shout out to @ssa-m-187 for editing this lol love u my bestie bff) 

-hotchniss affair, which is something me and lili (@eprcntiss ) spoke about for .. two months at 4am because we have mental problems, (love u king) but yes. this does have cheating in it so .. this is ur warning don't come for me i bite :)

ao3

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we'd do

'Cause I was goin' down, but I was doin' it with you

Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble that we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

Oh, look what we became

-

The first time it happens, she’s been on the team barely two months. A bad case in Missouri that lands the team in a tough spot with no good outcome, the loss of three young girls inevitable and it leaves them all drained, hurt, and in need of something that doesn’t leave them drenched in their guilt, in their failure.

They end up in the hotel bar, of course. Everywhere else feeling too far out, no one having the energy or the desire to travel somewhere that would take them further away from their beds for the night. The horrifically pitched screams of the mothers who had lost their children ringing in their ears, a sound that not even the soft but overly loud music playing in the surprisingly busy bar could drown out.

Reid leaves first, followed by Morgan, a soft hand on the younger man’s back as the two leave the bar; the genius taking the unfortunate deaths of the victims harder than the rest of them, him being the one to be in the room when the shots had gone off. Him, and Emily. Emily, who was staring at the drink in front of her, tracing her fingers around the rim of the glass as her mind replays the moment the bullets went off over and over again. Emily, who was unable to even look up to say goodnight to Reid and Morgan, not even realising they had left the table until Hotch gently nudges his knee into hers, sitting across from her and sending her a soft but, layered-with-questions smile, a little tilt of his head as she lifts her lips into a sad smile when she looks up for a moment before dropping her eyes back to her glass. Emily, not even hearing JJ announce she was calling it a night, a soft hand on the brunette's shoulder causing her to jump before turning, a quiet goodnight leaving her mouth as she smiles sadly and avoids eye contact, fearing the barrage of questions behind one look.

Rossi looks at Emily, then at Hotch, whose eyes haven’t left her since they sat down over an hour ago, and decides to make his leave as well, knowing full well that if anyone was going to get Emily to talk, it would be him. Although, looking at her, he can’t help but wonder if she even would talk, knowing first hand the damage that watching three young girls get shot can have on a person, especially a person like Emily. A person who holds so much in, but feels so intensely it could easily become her downfall. He taps Hotch on the shoulder, a whisper of talk to her leaving his lips, and closing the tab on his way to his room; he walks out, looking back one last time to find Emily looking at Hotch, watching as his lips move and Emily responding with a small smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly once Rossi is out of ear shot. Her eyes slowly lift to meet his, the pain behind them almost knocking the air out of his lungs.

“No,” she says in a voice he barely even recognises. “You really don’t want to hear it,” she tells him, shaking her head.

“I’ll have to read the report anyway…” he offers, tilting his head as she looks down again, before gently reaching out and grabbing her hand that rests on the table, stopping the nervous tap of her fingers. As their skin touches, her eyes snap up to his, a look in them he doesn’t think he’s seen before; but the burning in his hand as it rests in hers, and the way the feel of her hand in his has his breath catching in his throat, he assumes he’s probably looking at her the same way.

“Talk to me.” he says to her gently, trying to conceal the way these feelings are making it harder for him to catch his breath properly by speaking in an almost-whisper.

She stares at him for a long moment before she sighs, slowly pulling her hand out from his, but missing the way it felt rested on hers the moment it leaves his grasp. She clears her throat, leaning back into the chair as she tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down at her lap.

“I don’t have anything to say," she says quietly. “You know what happened.”

“I wasn’t in the room.” He tells her, watching as she tenses, starting to pick at her fingers while her hands rest together on her knee.

“No,” she tells him in a small yet stern voice, taking a deep breath before looking at him. "You don’t want to know, Hotch.” When they make eye contact, her eyes bore into his as though she could change his mind with just her gaze.

“I have to know," he says, pausing briefly. “It’s my job to know, Emily. We can talk about it now or, I can read it in the report later in the week. But either way… I’ll know. And I’d rather hear it directly from you.”

Emily looks at him, before sighing, grabbing the drink she hadn’t touched in over an hour and finishing it in one go.

“We’re going to need some more...” she starts, voice trailing off as she watches him grab the bottle of whiskey Rossi had bought for the team before they’d all taken off, and pours them both another drink. She takes it with shaky hands, downing the whole glass before even starting to speak. She then shares everything with him. She tells him how the young girls died, how they were so close to saving them before something even she can’t figure out went wrong, how shots rang out and all she could hear were the cries of the now-dead girls, and how those cries are a sound she'll likely never forget. She tells him how the sight of those three now-dead girls were the only things she could see, how the unsubs almost shot both her and Reid before they were shot by Morgan, how he then pulled them out of the room after saving their lives. She tells him how the rest is a blur, and how the last thing she remembers after leaving was him, standing in front of her asking if she was okay.

“You did everything you could.” He tells her, a unexpected pain blooming in his chest as he watches her wipe her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, unable to move past how small she looked sat there, working through her most recent trauma brought on by the job. He pours her another drink, pushing the glass towards her as she laughs sadly, grabbing the glass and looking at him. He takes her hand again, his eyes on hers and smiles.

“You did everything you could.” He tells her again, and after a few moments, she nods.

Even as they spend another hour draining what's left of the bottle, sharing laughs and sharing stories, the harrowing sound of the girls screams and the sound of the heavy silence that followed, coupled with the sound of mothers' anguish learning of their daughters' deaths is something that remains a constant, similar to a ringing in the ear that lingers even after the event. Sounds they both needed to replace.

It’s the need for the replacement sound that leads them into spending the night together (at least, that’s what they tell themselves the next day). Neither have an explanation of how exactly they ended up in his hotel room, his hands in her hair as she clawed at the buttons of his shirt, his lips on her jaw as he has her pinned on the door, teeth scraping her neck as she tilted her head. No idea how she ended up with her back meshed against the mattress as he pressed above her, entwining their hands at the side of her head as he kissed her, the sound of the cries and the silence and the screams of the mothers effectively drowned out by their soft whispers and sighs, the two hidden in the dark, not thinking of the consequences, the outcome, thinking of nothing but themselves.

It’s after, as the moonlight that pokes through the window catches his wedding ring, the silver band glistening in the room as his arm rests over her, and it grabs both their attention, the room all of a sudden engulfed in a different sort of silence. A silence that only lingers in the presence of two people who stumble over a line that can not be uncrossed, hanging them in the middle of something that feels almost like a crime.

She leaves a few hours later, dressing in the dark while she feels his eyes glancing over her.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow.” She says almost awkwardly. As she grabs her jacket from the middle of the floor, she hears him sit up and the sound causes her to tense.

“Emily—”He starts but she knows what he’s going to say and she doesn’t need to hear it.

“This was a mistake. It was a tough case, we— we had too much to drink and—”

“Em—”

“You’re married, Hotch.” She says, cutting him off, turning to face him. Even in the dark of the room she can see his face pale at the mention of it.

“I know.”

“Let’s just forget about it, okay? Pretend it never happened.”

“Okay," he affirms, and she nods before dipping out of the room, tiptoeing towards her own; and as soon as she’s behind close doors she closes her eyes, leans her head the wall, and curses herself for ending up in a position like this again.

He showers, trying to rub the evidence of her from his body, the hot water burning his skin. As he lays in bed that night his mind runs wild, thoughts of Emily racing through his mind before he’s reminded of his wife, his child, who are at home waiting for him. It's then that the guilt sets like a stone in his stomach, unable to truly understand just what it was about Emily that caused him to break the vows he said to Haley surrounded by their family and friends all those years ago.

Both Emily and Aaron try to move on from it, but something lingers between them.

She remembers the way his lips felt on her body, the way his hands spanned her entire abdomen when flattened against her, the way his fingers laced so gently into hers, the way his teeth left marks on her neck. She remembers how she had briefly registered that his hands might leave bruises but thinking nothing of it at the time, but now she's sat regretting that whisper of a thought because those bruises he left meant he was on her constantly, a stark reminder of what had gone down, branded on her pale skin for days afterwards. The fact that he’s her boss, her married boss no less, has her walking on pins, automatically tensing when he’s around her and actively avoiding being alone with him, overcome with the fear that what they did was unable to remain a one time thing.

He remembers how she sounds whispering (sighing, he tells himself sometimes, before shaking the mere memory of it from the forefront of his thoughts) his name. The way his given name slipped easily from her mouth, the way her body felt under his, the way her lips fit so perfectly against his he's now left with the fear that they might be part of the same puzzle. But more than anything, he remembers the way she looks when she’s at peace, when she’s staring at nothing and thinking about nothing, an easy smile splitting her face when he traced patterns across her arms and asked her pointless questions in the dark and he knows it's a sight he wants to see again. More than the wanting it itself, it's the knowing he shouldn’t want it that leads himself craving it. He wants to feel her lips on his, to feel her hands entwined in his own, to hear her say his first name in a way he doesn’t think anyone has ever said it before, so full of husk yet so soft and delicate, it’s a craving, it’s a crime and it’s one he wants (needs) to commit again, but it’s the knowing he shouldn’t want it that makes it all the more dangerous, and ultimately all the more appealing.

The two spend far too much time catching the other in a deep stare for either one of them to be able to act as though there isn’t a want, a need for a repeat, (for several, repeats) all while knowing the damage they’d do, how much betrayal would follow them around, knowing what they would destroy for just a few moments of whatever it was that they had created in that one hotel room that one time. So when he shows up at her door nine days later, the look in his eyes one she remembers all too well, she isn’t the least bit surprised, and she isn’t even hesitant as she lets him in, closing the door behind her with a bite to her bottom lip.

It’s three weeks later when their fun slowly turns into something neither expected, and it's then that the surprise shows up. It's then that he finds himself wanting to stay the night, to wrap her in his arms and feel the rise and fall of her chest slow as she falls into her slumber, to kiss her softly in the mornings when she’s groggy and content.

Then it's four weeks. When their secret nights in hotel rooms are no longer just sex but comfort, when it's resting in each others arms discussing cases, when it's acting as an emotional beacon for each other, gentle whispering and soft hands running through hair, delicate wipes of tears and tender kisses shared... it’s four weeks in when they finally realise that whatever this started as, it isn’t that anymore. It's four weeks in when they realise this goes far deeper than whatever they had originally been telling themselves it was.

Their affair truly begins four weeks and two days after that first night in Missouri, a betrayal of his vows to the woman who is raising their son alone as he travels for work and chooses to share a bed with another woman, another woman he now has feelings for. Any chance for good this "other woman" may have had, ruined; by choosing trouble, by choosing to catch feelings for her married boss, by choosing to let herself fall so far into something she knows she can never have. Again.

The two fall even deeper into their mess when the feelings expand into love; eight letters, three words neither would ever mutter aloud, keeping the confession unspoken, even if they were both painfully aware of it.

He’s a married man, he shouldn’t be involved with— he shouldn’t be falling for —another woman, let alone his subordinate. She, she’d told herself that when she got out of Interpol, out of the CIA, and into a normal life, that she would avoid trouble, avoid anything even under the umbrella of it, yet three months into being in the BAU, is sleeping and falling for her married boss. They share a bed almost every night in different hotel rooms across the country, and when they're not across the country he’s in her bed, he’s walking around her apartment; it almost looks domestic, almost normal, as long as they both ignore the shiny metal band sitting on his left hand, one that reminds them he isn’t hers, couldn’t be hers and they're brought right back into reality. They are having an affair, and even if they continue to tell themselves it won’t fall apart, that they’ll figure something out, their joint happiness is always shot down by his need to leave, to go home to his wife and pretend as though his heart isn't lingering in her hallway, pretend that he doesn’t crave to be in her bed, wrapped up with her in his arms as they whisper words of no importance. She watches him go and acts like he doesn’t take half of her heart with him, acts as though the thought of him and his wife together doesn’t make her feel slightly nauseous, as though how much she misses him has her wanting to smash every glass in her apartment, as though she isn't overwhelmed with just how deep he rested in her, and how quickly whatever this is had escalated from something that really, should never have happened to begin with.

She's standing in the middle of his hotel room, flattening her shirt and pants as she listens to him speak to JJ on the phone, humming in agreement with whatever the other agent was saying; Throwing her hair over her shoulder she catches him heading towards her, feeling his eyes rake down her exposed neck and cleavage, her stomach fluttering when she catches him smirking at her eyebrow raised in question, continuing on his venture towards her; as soon as he says goodbye to JJ and throws his phone onto the bed, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into his chest, catching her lips with his own as she places her hands on him softly. Smiling as he slowly pulls away, she starts running her hands up his chest to hook her arms around the back of his neck, clasping her hands together as they rest there, gently scratching at his hair as he wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer, as if he could join them as one.

"We have to be at the station in ten," he whispers, looking down at her. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Hm," she teases, shrugging her shoulders as she holds back a smirk. "I suppose so."

Aaron laughs, kissing the smile on her face as she chuckles happily.

"Go," he says softly, reluctantly letting go of her. "I'll meet you guys down there."

She nods, grabbing her jacket from the chair; she's turning go to when he gently grabs her wrist, turning her around and kissing her quickly, before she chases his lips, connecting them yet again.

"I'll see you later," she says quietly, smiling as she turns, ducking out of his room and into hers across the hall, leaving a cleaning tip and ruffling the sheets before grabbing her go bag and walking out, bumping into Morgan on her way out the door. The two of them walking towards the elevator when her eyes catch Aaron's as he leaves his room as they pass his door, a small bite to her lip before she looks away.

It's a look that follows him all day, one that means he has to grab her half way through the day, hiding them in a file room while he kisses her like his life depends on it. He thinks, maybe it does.

The case finishes quicker than they expect and they're on the way home that night. He walks up behind her in the back of the jet, touching her elbow to turn her towards him while everyone is preoccupied.

"About tonight..." he starts regretfully, and even though her heart falls out of her chest, she paints on an understanding smile, she has to. He's not even hers.

"It's okay." she says through a sad smile, trying to keep her voice neutral, forcing it not to give away that it hurts, that she'll never come first for him. He looks at her with a sadness she isn't sure she's seen before and it makes her tilt her head slightly, and gently grab his hand as it falls from her elbow.

"Is everything okay?" she asks gently, lacing a few of her fingers through his, their eyes flashing towards the team for a split second before he entwines their hands together; sighing before he looks at her, he just nods softly.

"Everything's fine," he tells her, "I'll try and see you tomorrow?"

"Aaron," she says, forcing him to look at her, "Spend the weekend with your son, it's okay." She smiles at him softly, actively avoiding the word wife or the name Haley. Avoiding his left hand, the cold, harsh metal feeling like a flame on her skin, a reminder of what they are doing, what they were destroying. And even with that knowledge at the forefront of their minds, even though they know this can't end well, that they're hurting people, that if (when) it got out they would lose everything...he would lose his wife and son, his job, his friends... she, her new family, one she'd searched years for and finally found, knowing if (when) they found out about her and Aaron they'd never be able to forgive her for destroying said family, then she'd have no choice but to go back to the life she wanted out of, back into the grasps of undercover operations and fake friends... even understanding all of this is not enough for them to stop, too caught up in each other, too tangled in a web of feelings that border on love and obsession, too fond of nights spent wrapped in each others arms, basking in the afterglow in hotel rooms across the city, across the country, as they laugh and share jokes and stories no one else has heard.

He listens to her, and then spends the weekend with his family and hates that as he watches Haley smile with their son, he's wondering what Emily is doing, the other woman a constant thought, the craving to be around her a pull just a little too strong, and he's at her door Sunday night, a smile on his face as she opens the door, stepping aside to let him through and for twelve hours it's just them. Behind her closed door they can pretend that this is normal, that they are fine. They can pretend that what they have is real.

(She notices the lack of a wedding ring somewhere between late Sunday night and early Monday morning, when he cups her cheek gently with his left hand and her body doesn't tense under the feeling of a cold ring on her skin. She doesn't comment on it.)

Haley wound up joining him and the team at the bar, his invitation more of a formality at that point, a small, we’re just going for a few, something to take our minds off work for a few while, leading to him mentioning that she should come, thinking she’d never accept because she almost never has but then she does. She accepts gladly, a small smile on her face as she mentions something about how she should get to know his friends better, and kisses him quickly before leaving the room, leaving him standing there, his mind running in circles about how the hell he’s going to cope with Haley and Emily in the same room, the same table.

He gives Emily the heads up, tells her the day before that Haley will be joining them, and she just nods, her body a string of tension even as she smiles, a small okay leaving her lips.

Now here he stands, watching as Emily stands at the bar with Morgan, a loose smile on her lips as he talks to her, handing her a drink with a wink and a smirk, and it causes him to clench his fists and look away, back at his wife as she speaks to Garcia, but he has no idea what about as his attention was completely stolen by Emily once again when she and Morgan laugh, a laugh he has only ever heard when it’s just the two of them, a laugh he wishes he could bottle up and keep for himself. He hates the jealousy that flares up in his chest as he reminds himself that he’s sat with his wife, he isn’t supposed to be jealous, he has no right to be jealous. Because, after all, Emily is a free woman to do as she pleases, their ‘relationship’ merely a string of stolen moments, secrets and lies, and he knows she deserves better and that he should let her go. She'll find someone who can— who will love her openly and freely, who will be able to show her off to their friends and kiss her in the streets and take her on dates and share ideas about the future, a future he’s well aware does not and cannot exist for them. But he can’t do that, he can't let her go, because as much as he’s fought his feelings and as much as he bites his tongue and ignores the flutter in his heart when she smiles at him, he loves her. He loves her selfishly and so completely that he won’t let her go, he can’t.

“Aaron?” Haley questions, her tone obvious that it’s not the first time she’s tried to grab his attention. He’s pulled from his thoughts, turning to face her with a small smile. “What are you staring at?” she asks with a laugh, turning to follow his gaze, frowning when it lands on Emily.

“Nothing,” he retorts, bringing the bottle of beer back to his lips; she turns to him with a confused frown.

“Emily and Morgan?” she asks sharply. “Why are you staring at Emily and Morgan?”

He’s silent, racking his brain for any excuse as her eyes stare daggers into his.

“There’s a fraternisation rule, no two members of the same team are allowed to…” he starts, the last words dying on his tongue, “Just making sure they’re behaving,” he says with a slight smile, a hint of a joke in his tone and even as she smiles, nodding her head at his explanation, he knows she doesn’t believe him, knows she’s been questioning his schedule more these last few weeks, wondering about his phone calls and just where he disappears to after them.

“Emily and Morgan?” Penelope laughs, “Please. Emily wouldn’t touch Morgan if he was the last guy on earth, trust me. They’re just friends.”

“Good.” he says, clenching his jaw as he takes one last look at them, his eyes lingering on Emily for a moment too long, he realises, when Haley turns to look at her as well.

Haley brings it up later that night, after Jessica leaves, after she’s checked on Jack.

“Emily seems nice,” she says casually, walking into the bathroom. “Are the two of you friends?”

“Sort of,” he replies, heart hammering in his chest.

“Sort of?” she questions, leaning on the door frame.

“Yeah,” he pauses, looking at her, “She’s a member of my team, we spend time together as a team…”

“But you get along? You like her?”

“I suppose,” he lies, as images of her underneath him, on top of him, lay next to him, smiling, laughing, winking, kissing him, all flash through his mind. Like doesn't begin to cover it, he thinks to himself.

“You seemed very interested in her tonight.”

“What?” He looks up just to see Haley shaking her head, dropping the subject.

“Nothing,” She says, “Never mind. It was nice getting to know them all tonight… It’s a shame I never got the chance to speak to her.” She continues as she walks into the bathroom.

“Yeah…” he says, running a hand over his face, trying to figure out whether the tightness in his gut is because she almost found out about him and Emily, or if it’s because she didn’t.

The sound of the gunshot coming from inside the building causes him, JJ and Reid to freeze, and the silence that rings in his ear piece, has his stomach rolling, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs and terror coursing through his veins. The minute of silence feels like hours, and he’s almost running into the building himself when a gasp of breath echoes through their ear piece, followed by Morgan’s gasping of we're okay, and the terror that had threatened to overtake him turns to relief, turning around to compose himself, the realisation that he could have just lost her making him feel sick.

He turns just as he hears people leaving the building, the two unsubs being taken out by officers, Morgan and Emily following closely behind, her holding her head as she laughs at Morgan and he smiles back at her. He knows he should wait, that he shouldn't have this need to run to her, to make sure she is okay, but before he can even think about it, he's rushing towards her.

"What happened?" he asks as he forces himself not to reach for her as she meets his eyes.

"This idiot thought he could shoot his way out, ended up shooting me right in the middle of my vest." Morgan sighs, rubbing the centre of his chest as he mumbles.

"You should get checked out by the medic," Hotch tells him and he grumbles, sending a nod to the two of them before wondering towards the medics.

"Are you okay?" he asks her once they're out of ear shot.

"Yeah," she says, rolling her eyes at his eyebrow raise. "Honestly, I'm fine."

He grabs her chin gently, forcing her to look at him as he examines the cut on her head, her eyes widening as he cups her face.

"What are you doing?" she whispers frantically, her eyes moving quickly towards the rest of the team who, thankfully, were completely preoccupied, He drops his hands instantly at her question.

"You might need some stitches." he tells her, looking at the cut on her head and she rolls her eyes once again.

"I'll be fine." she replies, but his eyes drop down to hers, a plea in them. "Well, fine." She smiles, laughing when he smirks at her and they walk to the medics, her eyes on the floor as she bites her lip and he gently runs his fingers across hers before heading towards Reid and JJ.

(He goes to her hotel room that night, helps her put cream on the stitches as she leans against the sink, a smile on her lips as he mutters to her about being more careful, before kissing her forehead and walking out of the bathroom. The normalcy of it causing her heart to flutter in her chest.)

He can't help but stare at her, when the team end up at Dave's for dinner one Friday night, and so when she dips away into the bathroom while everyone is distracted, he waits a few moments, drinking the last of his wine before he follows suite, looking behind him to find everyone enthralled in their own conversations before turning to head up the stairs.

Just as he reaches the bathroom door, it opens. She smirks at him as he stands there, before laughing when he grabs her hips and walks them backwards into the bathroom, silencing her laugh with a kiss as he closes the door with his foot, her smile breaking their kiss as she wraps her arms around his waist.

"Hi," she says softly with a smile, one he can't help but kiss again as his own grows on his face.

"Hi. You look beautiful," he whispers against her lips, smiling again as a blush form on her cheeks as she looks down, biting her lip before lifting her head to look at him.

"You don't look too bad yourself." She jokes, laughing once again as he backs her into the sink.

He kisses her, pulls her in by her hips and she goes effortlessly, fitting against him perfectly, slotting together like it was something they were always meant to do.

"Lets go out for dinner," he says as he pulls away. She stares at him, shock written all over her face.

"We— we can't... what if someone—" He stops her with a quick peck.

"Let's. Go out. For dinner." He says again with a smile, and it's one she can't help but reciprocate.

"Okay. Okay," She agrees, smiling as he laces one of his hands through hers. "Where?"

"That's a surprise." he teases quietly before kissing her jaw, then her neck, before she cups his face and pulls it gently to hers.

"We are not having sex in Dave's bathroom." she tells him with a slight laugh, running her thumb across his cheek gently as he pouts.

"Why not?" he smirks, leaning over to catch her lips in his once again, before placing a few more scattered across her jaw and neck.

"Because..." she begins, pushing him backwards playfully before grabbing his face with both hands. "Everyone is downstairs... They'll notice we're both gone soon."

"Fine." He pouts, pressing another kiss to her lips before stepping back from her; a strand of hair falls over her cheek and he reaches out, tucking it behind her ear before holding his hand there, but as he does, he notices her tense under his touch and pull away slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asks her. She just nods.

"I'm fine. I should head back down."

"Emily," He says quickly, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and he follows her gaze as it quickly flits down, and then he realises.

His ring.

"Hey—" He says gently, but she just shakes her head.

"Its okay. I'll see you down stairs."

"Emily—" He repeats, but she's gone as soon as the door opens, and he can't help but curse at himself.

(The feel of his ring cold against her skin lingers all night, a harsh reminder that he isn't hers and it has the texture of his ring feeling like a weight, a burn that sticks to her cheek even hours later.)

He grabs her just before she leaves, the two of them the only ones stood in Dave's front lawn.

"Hey," He says to her and she turns to face him.

"Hey." She smiles, but it isn't her smile. "I was just leaving..."

"Emily." He says and she stops and finally looks at him.

"What?" She sighs, "I'm tired, Aaron. I'm going home."

"I'm sorry." He tells her and she laughs, shaking her head.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." She tells him, "Everything is fine."

"Em—" He starts again but she grabs his hand, his right hand, he notes.

"We're fine." She smiles, "I just—"

"I know." He whispers.

"I'll see you on Monday." She tells him and he nods.

"I'll call you," he promises as she starts to walk off, before getting into the car. He watches it drive off before he turns around, choosing to ignore Dave's eyes on him in the doorway.

He takes her for dinner a week later, a feeling of complete normalcy falling over them as they sit at the table. It gives them a hint into what could be, had things been different. It takes them both by surprise how easy their conversation flows, how easy it was to forget just how complicated things truly were and for just one night they were able to pretend that it was just him and her and nothing else mattered. Emily is laughing at something he says while he laces their hands together on the table because he can. She smirks at him, lifting her glass to her lips.

They're both so caught up in each other that neither noticed Penelope entering the restaurant with a date of her own, didn't see the smile on her face drop the moment she spotted the two of them and didn't feel her sense of right and wrong shift completely as she watched her married boss and newfound close friend laugh together on the other side of the restaurant, with their hands clasped together and a look love in their eyes.

Neither Emily or Aaron see her as they leave the restaurant hand in hand, don't spot her as they share a kiss as they walk down the street, right past the table she was sat at and they don't feel her heart shatter, the two people she had come to understand as good, pure, innocent, in something that to her feels like a crime. Unable to understand how Hotch, the man she trusted with her life could be doing this while his wife stays at home and raises his son, she can't fathom how Emily, a woman who embodied good and protection, could be dating a man she knows is married, a man she knows has a son.

Emily and Aaron don't notice her.

Things would have been very, very different if they did.

It all falls apart one week later.

It's starts with an outburst of Penelope in the briefing room on a Monday morning.

"What did you get up to this weekend, princess?" Morgan asks Emily with a smirk, "It seems you still have that glow." He winks, which earn him a playful eye roll and a smile in return.

"Nothing." She smirks, "Why, are you jealous?" She teases.

"Is there something to be jealous of?" He jokes back, raising an eyebrow at her as they take their seats.

"No." She shrugs with a smile, watching as he squints at her.

"So you didn't do anything this weekend?" Garcia asks, and the room goes silent as Emily looks at her with confusion.

"I'm sorry?" She laughs, "I...?" She trails off, but her confusion has her stunned for words.

"Over the weekend? You had no plans? Didn't go anywhere?"

"What are you getting at?" Emily questions, as the normally overly sweet, nice, go-lucky tech analyst she's come to see as a friend interrogates her.

"Well, you're always asking other people what they do over the weekend yet whenever anybody asks you you seem to avoid the question... Is there a reason for that?"

"Pen?" Morgan mumbles to his best friend, raising an eyebrow, looking at her with the same confusion everyone else is.

"Does no one else find it strange that we seem to never get any information on what she does over the weekends... It's like she's sleeping with a— "

"Garcia." Hotch scolds as he stares at her intensely and the blonde woman goes silent.

"Of course you defend her." She mumbles under her breath just loud enough for him to catch and he stands.

"My office." He tells her, already walking out and Penelope freezes, regretting her outburst the minute she finds all eyes on her, and she walks out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Morgan asks the rest of the team, who shake their heads with shock. Apart from Emily, of course, who feels a stone set in her gut as she watches her leave.

"Do you care to explain what that was about?" Hotch asks the moment they are sat down.

"How could you?" Penelope asks him sadly, looking at him.

"I'm sorry?" He asks her, a frown on his face.

"You... You have a wife at home, and a— a child. A family." She says, shaking her head.

"Garcia? What are you—"

"I saw you." She tells him, finally meeting his eyes and his heart drops to his stomach, "You and Emily, at the restaurant."

He remains silent, processing her words.

"I always saw you as... as good. You were a leader and you had the respect of everyone in the room and you always did the right thing and now? Now I don't know what you are." She pauses, shaking her head and looking down. "No— I— You're a man who cheats on his wife."

"Penelope—"

"I don't want to hear this. I'm not the one you owe an explanation to." She looks at him, "Either you tell Haley or I will. I refuse to be a part of this, to let you do this."

"There's more to it—"

"No," she sighs, "There isn't." She stands, "If that's all, sir."

"Garcia." Hotch says and the woman turns to face him, but no other words form.

"I'll give you a week to tell Haley." She says, and then she's out of his office, her ultimatum hanging in the air behind her.

He takes a breath, trying to calm down as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest and he stands, making his way back into the briefing room, avoiding eye contact with Garcia as she apologizes to everyone.

"Prentiss," he calls at the door, "A word, please." He says, already walking out of the room.

Emily stands, looking at Penelope as the woman refuses to look at her and she knows what's about to happen before she even leaves the room.

As she walks into his office, she finds him closing the blinds.

"She knows, right?" she asks and the defeated look on his face tells her before he does.

"Yes," he says, "She saw us at the restaurant."

Emily nods, taking a seat on his couch as a sick feeling washes over her.

"She said either I tell Haley or...or she will."

Emily remains silent, just nodding her head, taking everything in as best she can; Aaron takes a seat next to her, sighing as he sits down.

"You should tell her," Emily whispers, "It's better coming from you than from Penelope."

"I know," he whispers back, "I just—"

"I know," she says quietly, accepting his hand when he laces his fingers through hers.

"We'll talk about this tonight," he tells her, and Emily just smiles sadly before she stands, slowly pulling her hand from his.

She's stood in the middle of his office, neither sure what the next move is, neither sure what the next move should be.

"We should..."

"Is she going to tell the team?" Emily interrupts, the realisation that their...whatever this is...going public means people actually knowing about it hitting her a second time around.

"I don't know," He admits.

"Okay," she whispers, clearing her throat as she turns to leave. He grabs her hand, forcing her back to him before he kisses her, wrapping his hands in her hair as he kisses her like it will be the last chance he gets. (He realises it might be). She kisses back just as intensely, the potential finality of it overwhelming her as they pull away, his forehead resting on hers.

"We will talk. Tonight," He whispers into her mouth.

"Okay," she replies, before slowly backing away, before she turns and is out of the door.

The smell of her perfume lingers in his office, and he stands surrounded by it for a few more moments before there's a knock at his office door.

"No case," JJ tells him as she opens the door, "I'll let everyone know about last week's reports that need finishing."

He can only nod, shock still having him at a loss for words, and without any indication of there being something wrong, she smiles before leaving his office.

Hotch walks out an hour later, catching Emily's eyes as he heads for the elevator, his heart feeling like it could fall out of his chest as she just smiles sadly at him, already accepting that they were over, that they had to be.

Once he arrives home, he drops his brief case onto the floor and just looks at Haley with eyes of guilt and a hole being eaten into his stomach by nerves.

"I have to tell you something."

It takes four hours of screaming, crying, shouting, and one ultimatum before he leaves the house, a weight still on his shoulders as he drives to her apartment with a heavy heart, Haley's words ringing in his ears.

"You have to choose," she tells him, "Me or her. Her or your son."

"Haley—"

"Choose," she says, "Your family? Or Emily?"

He knocks, his heart feeling like a burden as it thumps in his chest, and as she answers the door, the simple question of his family or Emily doesn't seem so simple anymore.

She steps aside to let him in, closing the door behind her just like all those other times. Except, this time she isn't filled with excitement and happiness, rather with dread and heartache, knowing what he had come to say before even opening his mouth.

"I told you dinner was a bad idea," she jokes, he lets out a breathy laugh, wondering just how much longer he could have had with her had they just stayed in. "What happened?" she asks quietly, eyes trained at the ground next to his shoes.

"She was upset, angry. Rightfully so." He pauses before taking a deep breath and speaking quickly. "I have to choose," he says to her, his eyes landing on hers as they lift back up towards his face. "It—it has to be her," He admits sadly, "for Jack."

Emily nods, squashing down the pain with a deep inhale.

"I know," she tells him, "I get it."

"I wish—" He stops, shaking his head as he looks to the ground.

"Me too," she breathes.

"If things had been different... if—"

"But they're not," she tells him curtly, her voice thick with emotion and misplaced hurt. "You have to choose your family, Aaron. It's okay. I get it, honestly."

"None of this is okay," he says with the shake of his head. "This shouldn't be so hard."

She doesn't reply, just looks to the floor, heart breaking in her chest as she realises that this really is it for them, that whatever they had was over now and the aftermath of them had just begun. He takes the few steps to stand directly in front of her, their eyes locking as he stands inches from her and he takes her face in his hands.

"I don't regret this," he admits to her. "I should. I know I should. We caused so much damage and there are so many reasons as to why I should but I don't. I can't."

"Me neither," she whispers, leaning into him.

He catches her lips in his slowly, basking in the way she feels; the way her fingers clasp behind his neck, the way her hands press up against his chest, the way her body bends into his perfectly. As they part, she smiles.

"I hate you," she tells him, and he laughs, running his thumb over her cheek.

"I hate you too." He whispers back with a smile of his own, before kissing her one last time.

The irony of that one four letter word is not lost on either of them.

"I should go." He whispers after a few moments, before kissing her one last time. "I meant what I said. I don't regret this. Any of it."

"I don't regret it either," She assures him, lacing her fingers through his as they rest on his cheek before bringing their hands down, smiling sadly as she steps away from him. He clears his throat before he starts walking, holding down the door handle before he turns to face her.

"I— " He says.

"I know," she tells him, "Me too."

And just like that he turns away and walks out of her door for the last time, the sound of the click of the lock drowning out her sobs as she curls over, leaning against the couch as she tries to catch her breath, tears finally falling freely down her face.

Three hours later, she makes the phone call.

"I want back in," she says sternly. The man on the other line whistles.

"Five months..." Clyde says "I had you down for at least a year."

"Yeah, well.."

"Is everything okay?" he asks her.

"That depends, is that London job offer still open?"

"For you? Yes."

"Then everything is fine," she tells him.

"Emily—"

"I'll explain it all when I'm back. It doesn't matter right now."

"Can you get a flight out on Monday?"

"Yes."

"Then...welcome back, Agent Prentiss." Clyde smiles, and Emily closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, welcoming the feeling settling over her now. Some semblance of relief, maybe, from something that shouldn't be a solution to a problem that shouldn't have happened to begin with.

He lets his tears fall on the journey home, back to his family. He takes a few minutes in his car, sitting in front of his house, to compose himself before going inside.

He's rocking his son to sleep that night, his mind replaying his time with Emily as he stares out of the window when Haley comes up behind him, throwing her arm over his shoulder gently.

"We can work through this," she tells him, and he ignores the voice in the back of his head that makes him question if he really even wanted to. "There's a house in Boston just a few miles away from the major crimes unit, if you get the transfer we should look into it."

"Sounds good," he responds half heartedly, and she kisses his cheek before walking out of the room and he goes back to staring out the window, starting to actively wonder if choosing family was the right thing to do.

Emily hands in her resignation to Strauss four days later, words of apologies and a job offer in London that she couldn’t give up falling from her mouth as the older woman accepts it, wishing her the best of luck for the future and letting her know there will always be a job for her at the FBI should she choose to return one day.

She leaves a different letter on his desk, one that reaffirms that she doesn’t regret what they did or what they had, and that the last five months they spent together were the happiest she had ever been and that maybe, if things had been different they could have been something great. She tells him she understands his decision, and that she hopes he finds happiness with his family. She ends it with an I love you, something she’d debated for awhile before knowing that she had to tell him, that there couldn't be a single thing she regrets about their relationship. She heads out of his office, wondering whether she should say goodbye to the team she’d started to look at as family before deciding she couldn’t, not if they were going to be aware of her relationship with their boss; she'd rather live in denial, refusing herself proper goodbyes, than finding out how they may hate her after finding out about everything.

The team do find out, three days after learning about Emily’s sudden departure, their questions answered by Penelope when she explodes with the secret she wished she never found out. They never get the chance to confront either of them, Emily somewhere unknown and the announcement of Hotch’s transfer getting to them too late. The man already in a different building in a different state.

He finds the letter the day after she leaves, reads it more than three times over. His mind echoes with her final words, the I love you feeling like a stab to the chest, as snippets of a life that could have been if things were different flash before his eyes. It makes him furious. Furious that he fell in love with her and even more furious that he had to pick his wife. His son. His family. He transfers to Boston, he and Haley starting fresh in a new state, a new home and a new job.

But the ghost of Emily lingers. How could it not?

He and Haley divorce a year later, some things just unable to be fixed, and he thinks about calling her, telling her that he loves her too, even all these years later... but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because she could be happy in London, could have found someone who can love her the way he wishes he was able to from the start, and he won’t destroy that possibility for her.

She builds a life in London but she never fully moves on, a string of short term relationships left in his wake because no one was ever able to make her feel the way he did, and she doesn't think anyone ever will. She thinks about calling him, wonders if he and Haley were ever able to recover from his—their—betrayal, but a call from her could have repercussions, she knows that, and it stops her every time.

They never do find their way back to each other, and forever remain a bittersweet memory each can look back on with a smile, knowing that even after everything, they could never regret what they became, those five months of something better than never having anything at all.

  fin

#hotchniss sour series #hotchniss fic #hotchniss #tw / affair and cheating #just hotchniss having an affair :/ that’s it #but it’s sad :/ #and :/ #they’re so in love but he’s married #yknow #anyway #yup #hotchniss affair rights 💞💕💘💓 #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner

[synthczoid]

    ( lucas bravo. appears 40 bc he can. he/him. male synthezoid. ) are you a HERO? something tells me that you’ll fight for what’s right without thinking twice, warm to the touch despite your vibranium structure and protective until your very last breath make you who you are, VISION. with the powers of SYNTHEZOID ABILITIES, you’re sure to have a selfless, know-it-all personality — and you definitely belong to UNAFFILIATED. were you listening to TO BUILD A HOME BY THE CINEMATIC ORCHESTRA FT. PATRICK WATSON on your way to the subway? it suits you. we can’t wait to see what you do next! ( lyndsey. 24. she/her. gmt. )

ok ok so ,, if this confuses u or fucks with ur head, message me because it took me days to figure this out lmfao

character name: vision !! he is introducing himself as victor shade to other people though age: appears 40 in human form - he’s a synthezoid who isn’t all that old though lbr JSDJFGIEHDJ faceclaim: lucas bravo voiceclaim: paul bettany skill set: synthezoid physiology, superhuman strength, durability, speed, agility, stamina and reflexes, flight, energy blasts, body manipulation, density manipulation... everything yall affiliations: the avengers ,, mostly family: he isn’t aware of any family as of right now !! though you’ve got daddy bruce, daddy tony, daddy ultron ... i could say daddy hank but nOPE zodiac: google says taurus so ,,,, taurus ig wiki link: he’s mostly mcu based (x)

was your character “blipped” out? if so, what did they return to and how is it affecting them? if not, who important to them was blipped out, and what has it felt like after those five years have passed? ( if your character is a dc muse:  what were they doing when they passed through the portal? )

uhhhhhhh he was dead SO thats a YIKES !!

where are they living? are they living with anyone?

he’s honestly just arrived ,, he’s been looking for wanda for a few weeks now - so he hasn’t found a place to stay, really. he’s just been travelling between countries and searching !!

why is your character affiliated with who they’re affiliated with?

the avengers are his family .. its as simple as that. they’re the ones he practically idolised, helped him adapt and he watched their every move to see how they as humans interacted with the world and in turn, with each other. he protected them, they protected him .. he loves them all a lot, that’s for sure.

who are their major friends, allies, and foes?

major friends are the avengers, allies are anyone good tbh ,, foes? self-explanatory.

whose hands do they believe the country should be in?

his whole philosophy really revolves around protecting lives. life is precious to him  —  it’s something he has always believed in. and that’s before dying twice. his job was to protect people, save people... defend. anyone who can protect life should absolutely be leading the country but also taking responsibility for it.

what’s their current mental state at? their physical state?

honestly? he’s just been looking for wanda, trying to locate the other avengers and make sense of everything that happened. he woke up in a shield facility ( shhhh, white vision’s body was just a replica of vision !! not his actual body so this works !! ), and immediately set off to wakanda to make sense of everything. he died there. twice. so naturally that was the best place to start. he’s definitely confused more than anything and LOOKING FOR ANSWERS !!!!

okay ,, i got a few lil headcanons to drop here :))

he definitely has a scar where the mind stone was RIPPED from his skull ,,, twice :)

while he was in wakanda, miss shuri ( soz if we get a shuri i will run this past them or scrap it !! ) made him something similar to the mind stone ,, kinda like white vision’s lil blue stone

it has similar powers too so thats fun - mostly bc im lazy and dont want to think rn

he walks around more as human vision rather than vision-vision ,, honestly? over the years, he understood humans more and more and he definitely feels more human than synthezoid tbh !! he’s learned to love, learned how to function like one of them so ya

still doesn’t change the fact he never will be human even if he wants to be womp womp

but he did cry so ,,,,, WHO KNOWS YALL THIS WHOLE VISION MCU CONFUSES ME SM

but since he basically came back to life ,, he doesn’t remember/know anything about westview ,,, has no idea about that mess and anything else that basically happened after iw

so he has no idea about everyone who died during endgame so that’ll be some fun threads of him finding that out - he’s been too busy so hasn’t done any research. his main question was if the whole thanos thing was over and once he found out that the avengers saved the world, he set off to find wanda :)

he's still as selfless as ever ,, he'd still let the woman he loves destroy him if it meant saving millions and millions of people all over again lol he doesn’t have to think twice about that

so he’s still such a pure soul !!

but also he was without wanda for a few weeks once he was basically resurrected again ,,, maybe he imagined his own family ,,,, maybe viv and vin are somewhere ,,,,,,,,, 

he will definitely want to be affiliated with an org once he’s caught up with everything too,, for obvious reasons i think

#daddy's home !!!!!!!!!! #me throughout this: TWICE :) #well.. three times if he knew about hex vision #reshielded:intro #bio #( * | a memory made real !! ╱ * vision musings . #( * | the vision . character study !! ╱ . #pinned. #i'll add more to this tomorrow/the weekend #ya girl is TIRED #meaning i also didnt read over this soz for any dumb mistakes

[enjeolmii]

talkies by the night - n.nk

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: cursing but only once, whiny niki, more fluff, also more fluff, that’s about it

a/n: this one’s another repost from my old acc ;)

you (10:51pm) hey bb :)

you (10:51pm) u busy?

❣︎niki❣︎ (10:51pm) hey sunshine

❣︎niki❣︎ (10:51pm) what’s up?

dialling ❣︎niki❣︎…

0:00

0:01

0:02

❣︎niki❣︎ “what’s my sunshine up to at this time of the night?”

you “i was trying to finish all of my homework at once so that i’d have nothing more to worry about”

❣︎niki❣︎ “hm”

you “and now im bored” (your lips form a pout, though you knew he wouldn’t be able to see it - you hear him heave a yawn)

you “how about you? you sound tired. is you alright? is you good? let me know”

❣︎niki❣︎ “yeah, i’m fine. it was just a little busier at the dance studio today" (he giggled)

you “yeah?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “mhm”

❣︎niki❣︎ “dang, those kids really got me beat. this one kid kept asking me to watch him do the dab and even tried to teach me the ‘proper way’ of doing it… for, like, my entire break”

you “oh, lord, i hate kids like that”

❣︎niki❣︎ “tell me about it”

you (a laugh escapes through your nose)  “well, i was going to ask you if you wanted to come over and hang out tonight, but i think you should take a good rest for now”

❣︎niki❣︎ “what?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “no, no. i could come over right now if you want. i’m not really that tired, y'know"

you “no, bb. you just said so yourself that you’re tired. you should take a rest. i’ll be fine, hm?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “but i really want to see you" (he brings his lower lip out)

you “we could just open video call if you really want to. you should at least be at bed early tonight”

❣︎niki❣︎ “please, please, please, …” (he whined continuously)

you (a short silence comes as you contemplate slightly) “ugh, fine. but you aren't staying past twelve, alright”

❣︎niki❣︎ “yes!”

❣︎niki❣︎ “i’ll be over in 15. wait for me, sunshine!”

2:48

2:49

the call has ended

Minutes pass by, and the sound of the doorbell stops you from surfing through movies on Netflix. Rising to your feet, you throw the remote control behind you on the couch and head for the door. You grab the knob and pushed it down to pull the door open. Then, a smile replaces your excited expression, revealing your boyfriend standing with crescent eyes.

"Hi," Niki's smile widens at the sight of you, and you open your arms immediately to engulf him in a warm hug.

"Hey," Taking in the scent of his mild cologne, you smile onto his shoulder.

He then pulls his head away from yours to cup it in his palms within the proximity you had, your arms still wrapped around his cozy body.

"I missed you." He said, squishing your cheeks.

"I missed you more. Come in." You pull away from him with a giddy laugh before dragging him into your house and onto the couch, closing the door behind you. But as you were about to take a seat next to him, you notice him clutching a black plastic bag in his hand. Your gaze diverts from the bag, then to him, and you arch an eyebrow in question.

"I got us a lot of snacks," He raised it to pile out every single one of the various go-to snacks you get from the convenience store whenever you went for a visit. "They're your favorites."

Not one second passed by, and you feel your lips come trembling in the effort to hold back the tears in your eyes, remembering how you told him that you're in dire need of a convenience store trip since your siblings snatched all of yours last week.

"You didn't have to." Your eyes start filling up by the brim, reaching the back of your index to wipe the tears off of your now wet cheeks.

The male slumps further into the sofa, amused at how shallow your standards are for crying. "C'mere,"

He momentarily stands up to grab the blanket that you burrito-ed yourself in earlier before he came, and he opens his arms comfortably for you to cuddle under the blanket.

"Why are crying, hm? It's nothing to cry about, crybaby." Niki whispers into your hair once you've climbed up the sofa to snuggle beside him. He wraps the two of you with the blanket, lightly tapping his hand onto your tear-stained cheeks as your head sinks deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I don't know either." You both snicker.

With the remote control stuck in the boy's grip, you unsuccessfully attempt to get your hands on the black gear when he abruptly presses through the several rows of horror movies. Niki knows very well how much you despise this kind of stuff, especially at night. You always argued with him that even though he was there to stay with you throughout the movie, it wasn't like he would be there for you the rest of the night.

He hoists the remote control higher in the air as he stands up, his other arm stretching to block you from reaching it. A grunt leaves your lips when you try to jump up from the sofa towards his hand, flying across the air to tackle him down onto the floor.

With a smirk on your face, your hands immediately lunge for the sides of his torso and the base of his neck, playfully brushing your fingers against his skin to tickle him amidst all his giggly squirms.

"Give- me- the remote-" You tickle him mercilessly, and he tries to turn you around to compete you to the floor.

"Nope." One push was all it took to have your back against the ground and your boyfriend kneeling beside your body. It's become your turn to get tickled, and you weren't prepared for it.

In between jagged giggles and desperate attempts to break free from the beast, you fail miserably to shut off his strategies. Your tensed-up muscles start to feel exhausted and it didn't take you long enough to give in to his disposition.

"Okay, okay. Stop," You breathlessly plead, and he detaches his hands from you, alleviated, getting back on his feet before reaching a hand out to help you get up. "You just never let me win these games, do you?" You sigh.

You take his hand and hurl yourself up with his help. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you walk back to the couch, dragging your shaky feet across the floor, only to collapse back into the cushions.

"It's okay. I'll let you win next time." He tugs you back into his arms under the blanket.

Through the decks of choices of horror movies you have searched through, you somehow convinced him to choose one that's a little more benign for the night. It didn't help him that seeing you, after such a long day at the dance studio, emphasized how beautiful and comforting you are to him. With that thought running perfectly in his mind, he gulps down and tears his stare away from you.

With his thumbs dancing across the right buttons of the gear, the pair of you finally find the one that you had set in stone, though you still had little doubts about your choices.

The movie began and it was already causing tiny bumps to appear on your arms. The main character was roaming alone in the dark of the corridors, finding a strange, eerie letter lying at the end of the hall.

The lights turned off everywhere in your house only added to the anxiety building up in your body, so you try scooting closer to Niki, which seemed to be impossible now that you see how you're already shouldering his chest.

Your actions caught the male in a string of silent laughter. You could tell he was trying to hide it from you, though, and you shoot daggers in his direction when you felt the vibrations on your shoulder.

Halfway into the movie, you got immersed in the thrill. Munching on the bag of your favorite snacks, it actually wasn't as scary as you had thought initially, the jump scares much milder than you had expected. Yet the unsettling feeling of never knowing what could happen still lingers in you, and quite oddly, the situation scares you more rather than the ghosts themselves. A little strange for someone as weak-hearted as you, but it seems to fit right perfectly to your tast-

You were torn away from your train of thoughts by a heavy feeling on your shoulder. With a startled jolt, you see your boyfriend leaning on your shoulder with his eyes shut asleep. You bring your hand to your chest, relieved at the sight of him instead of the creepy monster from the movie out to get you.

His head lies against you, the proximity so close that you could count every strand of eyelashes that he had. You took the opportunity to stare deep into his elegance. He was almost like an angel offered to you shining from the heavens with those good looks, and you all but feel the butterflies erupt from your stomach - just like when he confessed to you at that practice room a year ago.

"If only you didn't look so gorgeous like that, I would have punched you in the face for passing out on me right now." You quietly mumbled at his resting state, a sigh leaving your lips as you go back to munching chips and watching the movie with a shaking head.

When you return into a trance of spewing curses, a light smile forms at the corner of his lips, feeling indebted for having a girlfriend as cool as you.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen fluff #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen riki #nishimura riki imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #iland #iland imagines #iland niki #iland x reader #kpop #kpop x reader #ariafics

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 3.2

Author’s Note:  We gotta add some Bennett to this chapter because he deserves all the love! Totally have a soft spot for him when I rolled him around two months ago.

"Why are we at a winery?" You eyed the standalone building sitting near a body of water.  It had been no more than a week since Xiao told you to keep quiet about your 'secrets' even though you weren't sure what they were.  

"We'll be getting Diluc's help until Xiao comes back," answered Aether.  

Right.  Xiao's leaving.  You scrunched your nose up in protest but didn't say anything.  The yaksha had left the group for a couple days after your 'contract' was made, and the entire time Childe was practically chained to your side.  How long would he be gone for, if Aether thought it was necessary to get another person on the team?  You didn't want to know the answer.

And Xiao wasn't the only one temporarily leaving, either.  Zhongli, the only other person you could supposedly trust, left once Xiao returned a few days ago.  Something about trouble at the funeral parlor? Something told you that was a lie.

"Paimon thinks Diluc and Childe on a team would be a disaster," the mascot let out a nervous laugh.  "Are you sure it's okay for them to meet each other?"

"Yeah, about that--Childe, can you keep your Fatui side in check?"

"Whatever do you mean, Traveler?  I'm sure this Diluc fellow wouldn't be that upset with me.  Besides, I don't mind wearing my status on my sleeve."

"Yeah, we know! That's the problem."  Paimon crossed her arms and shook her head.

"You'll need to hide it from Diluc."  Aether stopped walking and faced the Harbinger.  "Can you do that?"

Childe was about to object the idea when you half-muttered under your breath.  "I thought hiding things was your specialty?"

His mouth remained open for an extra second, and his eyes narrowed significantly at your comment.  He took it as a challenge...or perhaps a type of threat?

Even Xiao was surprised at your sudden confrontation.

"Well?" Aether prompted without having heard you.

"Of course.  Anything for a comrade," Childe cleared his throat and flashed his signature smile.

.............................................

"How long will you be gone?"

You somehow managed to catch Xiao alone while everyone was inside the winery.  You had thought the two of you had gotten closer since you remembered your past, but it was like he was purposely pushing you away.  His replies had only gotten shorter since then.  

"I don't know.  A few days if I'm lucky."

"Do you have to leave?" Your shoulders dropped in clear disappointment.  "What's all the rush even about, anyway? Are you ever going to explain why I have to keep qui--"

"Lower your voice," the yaksha warned.  He folded his arms across his chest and glanced around the deserted patio.  "I told you, we cannot discuss this.  Someone could be listening--"

"But WHO?  The least you could do is tell me who!"  You stood taller and squared off with the yaksha.  He just sighed and turned his back to you.

"I'm leaving."

"Zhongli isn't here either," you continued, spewing the words out more desperately this time in an effort to keep him from leaving.  "You said I couldn't trust anyone except you and him.  What do you expect me to do if both of you are gone? And how do you expect me do deal with Childe and his stupid jokes?  You're scaring me by keeping me in the dark like this."

Xiao hesitated, but walked towards you anyway.  He stopped once he was close enough to whisper.  "There is a possibility we are both in danger.  That is all I can tell you; revealing more would risk losing our advantage to the enemy."

"But...who is the enemy?"

Xiao's gaze didn't reveal an answer, much to your dismay.  "Do you remember what I told you back then?"

"Huh?"

"If you're in danger."

"Oh."  'Say my name.  Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.' "Yes."

"Good.  I'll return soon."  He disappeared before your eyes, leaving behind a gentle breeze that caressed your hair much like he did not too long ago.

.............................................

You returned to the group in a somber mood inside the winery.  There, you were greeted by a man that couldn't have been more than six years older than you.  He didn't appear to be in great spirits either.

"Good.  While we're at it, why don't we see about getting the Knights of Favonius to join us?"

"We'll just need Bennett--" Aether defended.

"Relax, I was only joking.  I need to check in on Angel's Share anyways.  Shall we get going?"  The man's eyes landed on you.  "So you're the only one without a vision?"

"U-uh, unfortunately," you laughed nervously.

"I've been training her since she joined the team.  Her sword skills aren't half bad."  Child sauntered over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.  Now that you were without Xiao's protection, you tensed under his grip, feeling that it was somehow more threatening. But this was just his usual display of respect for his teammate.

"As long as we don't run into Fatui, you should be just fine," Diluc assured you once he noticed your uneasiness.

"I don't think we'll have that problem," Childe laughed, much to the annoyance of Paimon.  She rolled her eyes and disappeared with a poof.

..............................................

You've never seen someone have so much bad luck in your entire life.  From the time of recruiting Bennett on the team to the time the group left Mondstat, he had already found a way to get injured over five times.  Your mouth hung agape at this last time, in which you all had walked past some pigeons that suddenly decided to peck at Bennett's head.

"Are you okay?" You swatted the pigeons away before they could peck an eye out.

"Ha, yeah," Bennett shyly rubbed the back of his head.  "It's like I said earlier, all I have is bad luck!"  Despite this, it didn't stop the boy from smiling ear to ear.  "This is nothing, really."

"O-okay.  If you say so."  You walked along side him, while the rest of the team took the front.  

"So you're from Liyue?" Bennett kicked a stone and nearly stumbled.  He played it off so that it appeared he meant to walk backwards next to you.

"Yup.  I live in Quince Village."

"Nice! I've been there a couple times for commissions.  The rice fields are really pretty when the sun sets.  The squirrels aren't that friendly, though."

"Does every animal attack you?"

"Not all of them, but I would say a decent chunk of the population has it out for me," he chuckled.  "When I'm at the guild, my dads usually scare them off."

"Your dads?"

"Oh! Well, I was found as a baby and brought back to Mondstat.  The older men in the guild raised me, so I call them my dads."

"I see."  You thought back to your Granny, who was no doubt worrying over the fact that she hadn't heard from you the past couple months.  "An old lady, my Granny, took me in when I was a toddler."

"Were you abandoned too?"  Bennett asked almost too eagerly, with a hope to finally connect with someone.

"No.  I was--well, I can't really talk about it.  I shouldn't have said anything."

"O-oh, sorry about prying.  I tend to drive people away once they know me, so I was afraid--"

"Don't worry, I'll tell you at some point.  I just can't talk about it right now," you gave him a small smile for reassurance.  He was practically beaming as he smiled back at you.

That's right, Childe recalled the day he first met you.  That old lady was her caretaker.  She may know something...

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shot

[sadclearance]

could u do male reader's been friends with todoroki from mha for since ua (they're newly pros now) and tells him ily and is like ik ur not good with that stuff tho so it's no big! i don't expect an ily back! and todoroki's like :O and doesn't say it back but later when reader's hurt during a mission todoroki's like oh dang i do love u but it's too late cuz he died

pairing: shoto todoroki x male!reader

summary: todoroki says "i love you" back eventually. it just happens to be too late.

category: angst

warning(s): death

word count: 1649

key:

s/t - skin tone

italicized - text

he's not sure how he got to this exact moment.

if you had told him at the beginning of his high school years that not even just a year after graduating, he'd be running around a deserted parking lot with the cold breeze of the night air nipping at the skin that wasn't covered by his pajamas--which happen to be from a two-years-old matching christmas set with the person he's trying to catch--todoroki would've looked at you as if you were a lunatic.

never in his wildest dreams could he ever imagine this.

but he thinks this is part of what being friends is, and back then, he never would've dreamt of having one of those either.

he doesn't notice the warm breath right next to his ear until a steady voices says, loud and clear, "i love you."

he turns his head so fast his face almost smacks into y/n's, and y/n laughs out visible puffs in the crisp air.

todoroki doesn't even speak. he just stares with wide eyes, not knowing what to do.

this is all just too new to him, and this came out of absolutely nowhere.

"glad that got your attention," y/n smiles when the silence continues. "you were so lost in your thoughts you just stopped moving. i was starting to think you didn't want your phone back."

todoroki now remembers the reason why he was chasing his best friend of four years around an empty parking lot at this ungodly hour, where half of his body was uncomfortably cold.

he does want his phone back, but he doesn't go back to running.

"was that why you said that?" todoroki eventually asks. was it only for the surprise factor? because if so, he's both relieved and disappointed--two things that he recognizes as contradictory and doesn't understand. well, todoroki's never been too good at understanding feelings, so that's not really news.

"nope," y/n answers without skipping a beat, and if todoroki didn't know better, he'd think y/n wasn't nervous at all. the s/t fingers playing with the edge of todoroki's phone case lets him know otherwise. "don't take it too seriously, though. i get it."

get what?

that answer doesn't make todoroki happy at all. now his brain's just muddled and confused, and he can barely process his surroundings. what's he supposed to make of that interaction? don't take it too seriously? he gets it?

when y/n's ran a lap or two without todoroki making a move to get his phone back, he lies down on the floor.

todoroki settles on "you're going to get dirty" because he wants to get back to the present. his head hurts, and thinking isn't getting him anywhere right now.

"come look at the stars with me," y/n reaches his hand up toward the skies, and he looks ridiculous, but todoroki complies because he wants to enjoy the time they have together for as long as he can. they won't have time to see each other for a while, being busy growing heroes and all. 

"is this considered stargazing?"

"we're gazing at the stars, so yeah, i'd say so," y/n jokes.

and now todoroki's out of things to say that aren't questions about y/n's confession.

y/n turns his head to look at todoroki, and todoroki instinctively does the same.

"you're taking that thing i told you not to take seriously seriously, aren't you?"

"i'm having trouble understanding everything you've said in the past few minutes," todoroki admits, turning his head back to face the stars again.

"okay, well, i love you," y/n says.

"you've said that, but--"

"but i don't want you to take it seriously because i get it."

"again, you've said that in almost those exact words." todoroki feels like a frustrated child who's getting cranky over a math problem he doesn't know how to solve.

"i love you in the way that i want to kiss you and go on dates with you and maybe do more stuff," y/n's face reddens at his own words, but his voice is firm.

todoroki's eyes go back to y/n's, and he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"i know you don't see me that way, and it's all good. i didn't expect anything in return. i just wanted to say it."

"i... i wish i could give you a response, but... you already know that..." todoroki struggles with his words. were these the right ones to say? which are supposed to come out next?

"that you're not good with people stuff. yeah, i remember the first year of me trying to court you into this friendship," y/n laughs.

todoroki wants to laugh while reminiscing the memories too, but he doesn't feel like doing so, especially with how he's pretty sure he just rejected his best friend.

"i told you, no expectations here. just wanted to get that off my chest." y/n rises from the floor and todoroki's eyes follow. "c'mon, we should get going. it's cold, and our schedules are packed for the week. we can't afford to be getting sick."

"yes, it is late," todoroki nods and gets up as well.

the car beeps to signal that the doors are open, and todoroki's about to get into the driver's seat when he sees y/n walking off somewhere else.

"y/n?" todoroki calls out.

"i'm gonna take the bus," y/n answers before todoroki even asks.

"they aren't running at this hour."

"my place is close. i'm gonna walk."

"but--"

"text me if your schedule clears at all!" y/n waves without turning around to face todoroki.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

it's been a week, and todoroki still feels the pressure of having to give a proper response.

y/n said it was fine, but even someone with as little experience with these types of things as todoroki recognizes that it's not kind.

i haven't thought about--

i've never kissed anyone--

human relationships--familial, romantic, platonic, and otherwise are all things that are new to me--

no matter what he types, he feels like the words are all wrong. what's in his drafts are all things that y/n already knows. that's why he said he "gets it".

but todoroki's still so frustrated. he wants to respond properly. he feels like it's only right.

but holy shit is it hard to come up with anything at all.

before he can come up with another poorly worded apology, excuse--whatever it is that he's trying to say--he gets a notification.

assistance required in x prefecture. requesting all available heroes.

todoroki, being the good hero he is, rushes to the sight as soon as possible.

he recognizes the name of the location, but he brushes it off as past experience. after all, within the past year, due to his rising popularity, he's had a lot of opportunities to work in different places.

"what's the situation?" todoroki asks one of the heroes that's trying to stabilize the building that the villain appeared to be in.

"one guy with a geokinesis quirk. he's alone, but his quirk's pretty strong. took out the whole village one town over. we don't know his goal, but the whole building's stone, and we don't want to take any chances."

"is there any way you would like me to help?"

"i'd say ice the whole building, but this guy's got quick reflexes. try going in discretely and trap him in ice when he's caught in surprise."

todoroki nods and is about to enter the building when

"also, try not to ice the other hero in there. i think his name's y/--"

the building crumbles at an incredible speed, and he barely has time to throw both himself and the other hero out of the way.

once the other man is stable, todoroki goes to assess the damage. the rocks are still tumbling down, but they're slower now.

they feel a lot faster when todoroki catches a glimpse of an all too familiar hero costume.

"y/n!" todoroki shouts as he loses the ability to think rationally. he runs with his heart in his throat and a terrible tense feeling that starts to overwhelm his entire body, trying to reach y/n before the large boulder does.

ice spreads from his feet and meets with the chunk of stone before it can fall on y/n's head.

"i'm going to get you out of here," todoroki promises when he makes it to y/n. he calls for help while looking over the pieces of the building on top of y/n's body.

"todoroki," y/n coughs weakly, and todoroki notices a pool of red slowly start to grow on the concrete below them.

"don't talk." todoroki's voice sounds so weak and helpless, and he hates it.

y/n just smiles, but the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth keep it from spreading warmth and happiness within todoroki like it usually does.

todoroki's already seen lots of tragedy in his one year of hero work, but he's never felt so panicked in his entire life.

he tries to shift a rock, but it only makes y/n groan.

"help!" todoroki yells again, but everyone's too preoccupied with catching the villain and tending to their own serious injuries to come and rescue y/n.

"shhh, todoroki," y/n says weakly.

"don't talk!" todoroki yells this time. it's still helpless, but it's loud, and y/n starts to laugh to the best of his ability.

"hard when... when you're just so funny. that's why... i..."

"don't close your eyes." todoroki feels like his heart's stopped.

"i..." y/n's eyes droop.

"look at me!" todoroki shouts with wild eyes.

and so he does. y/n looks at him with tired eyes, but todoroki can tell that he's straining himself to do so.

"i love you," todoroki's eyes feel heavy and his nose burns. "please... i love you, too..."

but it's too late.

the open eyes are quick to lose their life, and y/n's skin loses its color.

"i love you."

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

deadass i was listening to my discover weekly on spotify and when i was writing the last few sentences i love you by wavves came on

i didn't know what to title it so i just left it

i hope it was satisfactory anon!

#todoroki shōto #shouto todoroki #x male reader #todoroki shoto x male reader #male reader insert #bnha x male reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mlm

[redrose-arrow]

Duncan x Halt anon here!!! this is one of the last coherent hcs i have about these two (the rest are kinda random, just cute little things I think would apply to this ship) ANYWAY IM HAVINF THE TIME OF MY LIFE LETS GOOOO

OKAY SO CAITLYN’S DEATH. I’m imagining this is set sometime after the Early Years series, before Halt takes on Gilan as an apprentice; anyway, Duncan gets a letter one day from Clonmel and he opens it to see that it’s an invitation to the funeral of the Hibernian princess Caitlyn O’Carrick—it’s protocol that whenever someone Royal/generally important dies, a letter is sent to all kingdoms who are on good terms with the deceased/kingdom of the deceased informing them of the death (along with an invite to the funeral). This was only put in place because it’s not great fun to show up at a ball or party and be like “Hey how is [blank] doing?” only to have [blank]’s mother burst into tears and run out of the ballroom—kinda puts a damper on the evening (Duncan has learned this the hard way. He’s not keen on repeating that mistake, so he makes sure to read through all his mail carefully)

So he gets this letter, goes “Clonmel? funny, that’s where Halt is from” and puts it aside for a second to continue rifling through his mail. Then the lightbulb goes off on his head and he‘s like “WAIT, THAT’S WHERE HALT IS FROM” and dives for the invitation. There’s more information regarding the place it’ll be held (a private funeral service in Dun Kilty, which will then be opened to the public so they can pay their respects) and other details like what time, the dress code, etc etc, but all Duncan can think right now is: Caitlyn O’Carrick is gone. Halt’s sister is dead.

Then another thought: does Halt know?

Duncan is pretty sure he doesn’t—Halt doesn’t keep in touch with anyone from his past, not that there were many people he’d want to keep in touch with anyway. But Caitlyn was important to him, the one person who’d actually given a damn about him, and Duncan realizes with a growing sense of dread that he’s gonna have to tell Halt about her passing. Reluctantly he sends a messenger boy to fetch the Ranger (“not extremely urgent, but I’d like to see him by the end of the day”) and excuses himself to his chambers. Halt rolls in sometime around mid-afternoon with a “you wanted to see me?” Duncan, letter in hand, pit in his stomach, tells him to sit. “If this is about the seal that I allegedly carry in my bag,” Halt says as he sits, “then you should know that Crowley is a lying bastard who couldn’t tell a horse from a boat. I don’t know how he manages to hit what he’s aiming at with that eyesight, but—“ he cuts off when Duncan holds the letter out to him. He raises an eyebrow, meeting Duncan’s grim gaze. Without another word he takes the letter, unfolds it, and reads.

There’s no visible change in Halt’s expression; he’s stoic as always, but Duncan knows him now, sees the way his fingers tighten on the paper, knows by the way he stills that his mind is struggling to process the information he’s been given. Neither man speaks until Duncan breaks the heavy silence: “The funeral is in a week’s time. I’ve already written and sent a letter confirming my attendance at the service.” No reaction from Halt, so Duncan takes a breath and says, “I think you should come with me.” He goes on for a little about how he can station Crowley at Redmont in Halt’s absence, how he’ll explain Halt’s seemingly unnecessary company for the trip, precautions they can take so nobody recognizes his similarities to the King Ferris; then he trails off when he realizes that Halt’s not really listening, just staring blankly at the unassuming letter that brought his entire world to a screeching halt. Duncan walks over and rests a hand on the man’s shoulder: “If you decide to come with,” he says quietly, “I’ll be ready and waiting by the front gate at dawn.” He spares one last glance at Halt’s frozen expression, gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and walks out. When Duncan returns an hour later, Halt is gone, and the letter is resting on the chair where he’d sat.

Three days later and Duncan’s ready and waiting, sitting on his horse with a pack pony shuffling impatiently behind them. It looks like Halt isn’t coming and he’s about to leave when he hears the familiar clop-clop of a Ranger horse, just as Halt rides into view on Abelard. He slows to a stop, and if the shadows under his eyes are a little darker than usual then Duncan doesn’t mention it. The two of them share a look; finally Duncan inclines his head, turns to whisper a few instructions to his chamberlain, and takes off, Halt following closely behind.

The funeral is nice enough; Duncan attends the private service, leaving Halt alone in their shared guest room, and later in the evening Halt slips away to watch the public service from the shadows. When he leaves, there’s a brightly coloured wildflower in his hand that’s gone when he returns. Duncan doesn’t ask. (He doesn’t say all that much, actually; the sight of the grave next to Caitlyn’s, a polished gray slab with intricate patterns and a marking etched into the stone that reads ‘HALT O’CARRICK, CROWN PRINCE’ has him feeling ill for the rest of the trip.)

I’m still not 100% decided on the details—I’d like to think that Duncan wanders around the castle a little bit, stopping to stare at the portraits of the O’Carrick family hanging from the walls and trying not to do a double-take every time he sees and/or hears Ferris talk. And how would Halt react to seeing Ferris again? I am ALSO not sure about this but in general I think it would just be a lot of Halt grieving quietly with Duncan standing by him in a silent show of support. (after all, it’s not like anyone else can be there—nobody else can know that Halt’s sister has died, and even if he did tell anyone the abridged version without the gruesome details, they wouldn’t fully understand how much she meant to him. Duncan doesn’t say “I’m sorry for your loss”, because he knows Halt well enough to know that the man despises empty platitudes. So he just...stays with him, and watches over him, and reminds him that he’s not alone.)

if I hadn’t already shipped Halt and Duncan because of your previous headcanon, I would now. It is absolute b e a u t i f u l.

I love Duncan’s conflicted emotions, Halt’s silenced anger - Halt’s supposed gravestone?? I never even thought of that but it’s an amazing detail. The dialogue is spot on, too.

You too, anon, THANK YOU for dropping this in my inbox. I TOO AM HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE

#again: what can i add to this? #it’s so so good #and already reads like a fanfic #i’m loving it #rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #halt o’carrick #duncan #ask redrose #ask redrosearrow

[viriyanon]

'tired' ? for your challenge :P

a.n. anon u... u reel me into a very dangerous thought okay. for the first 3 minutes, congratulation. but not after that. not toDAY SATAN!!1!1!1!!1

also. this is unexpectedly LONG. SO. LONG.

jiang yuelou sighs in annoyance after hanging up zhan junbai's phone call, telling him that his men failed to track down hong kong's emerging opium dealer that currently supplies jing city with an unidentified type of poppy. the whole police bureau is on fire due to this discovery.

"all i could confirm is that they indeed sell a new type of opium, presumably from india. but we failed to extract any information about the leader, let alone catching them. they were enforced by british authorities and my men suddenly were outnumbered," says junbai dimly from the other side of the line, clearly not liking the unpredicted variable in their perfectly planned undercover.

the executive offers an apology, which yuelou dismisses in a second 'cause executive zhan, regardless this one very failure, is still the best external alliance ever. the most reliable source, partner, and friend. yuelou can't ask for a better connection than zhan junbai.

but that doesn't change the current result. coming with that are mayor cai's aggravation and bai jinbo's wrath. song rong and sun yongren can only dip their head down watching the commissioner throw those paper in their boss' face, saying how incompetent yuelou is.

("well, let's see if commissioner bai can capture them by himself!" sun yongren says quietly, aggressively biting a baozi in his head 'cause it's pass dinner already.)

so, having a bad day is an understatement. it's beyond bad, it's bad bad. jiang yuelou is not someone who accepts defeat easily, he never wants to be one step behind. when he's one step behind, he must be in the chasing mode—he must be the one controlling the lane, the illusion of safety margin that manipulates the target's decision, the pace of their game. but today, someone else's successfully taking over him without his permission, dragging him around like a lifeless ragdoll.

thinking about him getting controlled by an unknown party burns him, anger boils in his vein—violence at the tip of his fingers, ready to transfer his rage to anything and anyone without mercy. upon seeing jiang yuelou disappear into his room, song rong and sun yongren immediately rush to every corridor that yuelou will have to walk through to exit the building, telling everyone not to initiate any conversation if their boss pass them by to avoid making the bureau a blood painted crime scene.

"don't- don't talk to chief jiang when he walks out, understand?!" sun yongren repeats the same information to some rookies coming in for their night shift before running to other corridor. the young officers, still with their idealism and lack of experience, take it with a grain of salt.

next thing they know is they freeze under the wall-mounted lamp as jiang yuelou grimly walks down the corridor. noone says anything to him, not even looking up from the carpeted tiles after they nod to salute him. his subordinates immediately clear out of his way, bumping their shoulders into the wall to avoid bumping into the walking wrath instead.

the said chief passes by the rookies too, giving them a side-eye, and they feel like they just get caressed by death. the yellow lights from the filament lamp falls on his pale white face, clenched jawline, and riled expression every two meter, making his appearance more hair-rising due to scanty lighting and blank spots. in addition, winter wind is particularly strong this week, easily slipping inside from the gap between the window frame and the stone surface. the corridor, dimly lit and gravely chilling, feels like a gate to the underworld and yán wáng is coming to take them personally, for a good minute.

the chief keeps striding without diverting his attention anymore, eyes fixed forward to shove everyone aside. he only has one destination set in his mind now and before he gets to it, his revolver will aim towards whoever gets in his way and extricate them his way, which usually is... freestyle.

when yuelou arrives in front of yuzhi’s front gate, he can’t help the bubbling anger overflowing his already small pot. the wooden doors are closed, tight, locked, yelling at him “no chen yuzhi today.” noone in this world would understand the immense effect this sentence can do to jiang yuelou who has grown a co-dependency with the doctor. today is marked as yuelou’s worst setback in life.

the chief exhales loudly, admitting his defeat to the universe, and makes his way towards his house with heavy shoulders. the rage and anger he wanted to lash out recklessly towards chen yuzhi douses entirely by the fact that the doctor’s not home to listen to him vent. thank goodness the snowfall is not heavy today unless he’d bury himself under the thick snow in one of jing city’s darkest alley. it’s sad that he is alone in this big, big world today. dramatic, but valid.

just when he’s about to open the gate to his house, he sees they are already unlocked. jiang yuelou never forgets unlocking his own house. facing unforeseen danger on daily basis, yuelou immediately slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out the revolver from its holster. he opens the wooden gate slowly, trying not to make even a creak from the rusty hinge and accidentally announce his appearance instead.

slowly but steadily, the gap widens and he steps inside with his arms are stretched out, his revolver is ready for some quick shooting. but he is welcomed with his brightly lit house in lieu of a group of opium dealers whose lives he ruined in the past. his eyes widen in disbelief upon seeing steam rising from freshly cooked foods on his dining table. yuelou freezes from his place, his arms gradually lowering themselves as well as his self defense.

soon, a man dressed in a warm ivory white knitted turtleneck appears with two plates of dish in his hand coming out from his kitchen and setting them on the table with other dishes. his hair, as usual, combed neatly—unlike yuelou’s hasty finger-combing technique. he is wearing yuelou’s slipper, the one he left behind in his living room when he was off to work. the moment the said man looks up and meets him in the eyes, a smile blossoms on his face, so beautiful yuelou can feel his heart wrenches from the mere sight.

"yuelou? you're home."

this is the view he's always dreaming of for God knows how long but never dares to tell. to come home to chen yuzhi dressed in a warm clothes, smiling under the bright light of jiang residence and welcoming him with a tight hug. and if he tells him he misses him into his ear, yuelou will pepper him with kisses all over his face, free of charge for undeterminable time, until yuzhi is tired from giggling and trying to escape from his iron grip. until he puts his palm over yuelou's lips as the last attempt to prevent him from attacking his face again and smile playfully at yuelou's temporary defeat. until the glint in his gleaming doe eyes changes into something like want, something that sounds like a request to kiss him properly if yuelou has some energy left to be wasted.

and jiang yuelou will not ask twice if he catches yuzhi's eyes flicker to his lips just once and goes back to meet his eyes. because yuzhi will see him doing the same thing too and he will understand that both of them want it.

jiang yuelou slams the wooden gate close, storming towards chen yuzhi whose eyes widen at his explosive reaction. impulsivity has neither been a best friend nor a rival, in yuelou’s case, but he learns to run for what his heart longs the most. and this is the first time his body really runs for what his heart wants. his heart wants comfort.

the chief throws away his revolver once he is inside his house and immediately reaches out for the doctor. one of his arm pulls yuzhi closer to his body as tight as he could while the other one is fixated on yuzhi's jawline, gently tilting it to a better angle ‘cause,

fuck this.

"yue-"

chen yuzhi never finishes his name as yuelou closes their gap and captures his upper lip, his teeth painfully clashing against yuelou as the latter miscalculates his strength. but yuelou doesn’t stop to apologize like every time he accidentally hurt him, instead crowding him against the dining table and kissing the light out of him as if the last time he had a meal was a thousand years ago.

yuzhi is confused, very confused. this is not their first kiss, but this is the first kiss that yuelou does so overly rough, messy, and raw, like a mass mayhem in a week long blackout. he knows yuelou tends to be stormy when his trauma is triggered or his mission falls by the wayside but he never lets this kind of weather affects his behavior and treatment towards chen yuzhi. after the doctor treats him routinely and he gradually gets better at controlling his emotion.

understanding and patiently waiting are yuzhi’s best weapons to pacify yuelou, returning him back to the ground until both of his feet firmly embed to the soil. he only needs to mold it into a form of physical affection without trying to change his pace. something that jiang yuelou will perceive as an act of submission. only this way, yuelou can and will melt. he is not a man who can be persuaded by asserting one’s power on him, and coercion is never chen yuzhi’s forte anyways.

the doctor gently squeezes yuelou’s shoulder once where he places his hands before and moves to hook them around his neck. he buries his right hand in his black hair, his fingers are warm and heavy against the skin of yuelou’s head. his thumb is rubbing a small circle on his back head tenderly, like a mantra he does it over and over again until jiang yuelou comes back to his sense.

that’s when yuelou’s grip on his waist loosens little by little, his turbulent kissing reduces to a slower and intimate one—the one that always trips chen yuzhi and makes him fall deeper for the other man and his enigma. soft moan slips out of his lips only to get muffled by yuelou’s inadvertent growl. 

they gasp for air eventually but never leaving their hands from each other’s body, not quite ready to let go. in between their huff and puff, yuelou steals a soft kiss on yuzhi’s cheekbone.

“i’m sorry, love. i was–” yuelou hesitantly looks up, straight into yuzhi’s eyes. the decision is a bad move, probably the only bad move that yuelou has ever made ‘cause the emotion in yuzhi’s eyes, they remain calm and considerate, far from judgmental nor do they spiteful. his lips are bruised as hell but his eyes, they never stop glistening with benevolence and never-ending patience towards his lover.

jiang yuelou can’t stand the guilt rising in the depth of his heart after seeing them. they are together, chen yuzhi chooses to be with him not to be his outlet of rage. the image of his defenseless late mother flashes in yuzhi’s face and he instantly regrets whatever he forced yuzhi into earlier. even if it’s just a kiss, something he did daily, routinely, sneakily, wholeheartedly, nothing really abusive and malignant about it but yuzhi might be hurt today. and if yuelou hurts him, he is breaking his own rule written on the very top of the list.

“yuzhi, i’m sorry i–” chen yuzhi slides his hands, cupping the older man’s face that looks like a 13 year old boy now under the weight of his guilt. smiling ever so fondly, he says, “you are tired, love.”

words stuck in yuelou’s throat for the third time upon seeing yuzhi’s eyes that have perfectly sensed his weary and withheld agitation. it’s his red light, then. it’s time for him to let yuzhi take control of the situation and do his part of the day. to do what he is the best at that yuelou is the worst at. any other matters can wait until yuzhi deems him to be fully loaded with ammo and health again.

jiang yuelou leans forward into chen yuzhi’s body, resting his feverish forehead on the crook of his lover’s neck, seeking comfort and humanly touch. yuzhi can’t help smiling at yuelou’s clinginess—he never says it but he absolutely loves it. love the idea to take care of the most troublesome chief officer in the whole jing city. love the way his toned muscles and tensed neck relax under his lithe fingers as he bathes him in a bathtub.

“let me prepare hot water for your bath.”

“will you wash my hair too?”

“hm.”

“what else will you wash?”

chen yuzhi presses a kiss on yuelou’s cheek, whispering “make a wish” before walking towards the kitchen, and disappear behind the white wall.

#viriyanon answer #killer and healer #jiang yuelou #chen yuzhi #yuezhi #killer and healer fic #i should stick to making gif and doing fanart rite #viriyanon writes #of burned sunset

[aesthbaby]

Ghost

Summary: Do you remember the episode Demonology where we learned of Emily’s past? What if I told you, you were apart of it. After years of silence on her end, you end up meeting her again.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Prompt: here

Warnings: Cursing | Sadness | Typos

Word Count:

Masterlist

An: Dedicated to my hundredth follower. Ahhhh I'm too hype about this! I also made a slight change to the prompt but everything else is the same :)  Anon, I hope you enjoy.

Indignation

The screaming crawls up the walls of her oversized, child hood home to shake her ear drums. The thunder only adds fuel to the fire that is the rage possessed by both Prentiss’ as they continue their screaming match.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you!” Elizabeth’s voice matches the rain. The way she stomps behind her daughter looks almost comical.

“Back off mother.” She mumbles this more to herself than her mother.

She stops walking, planting her feet firmly on the Brazilian Chestnut flooring. “I will not ask you again.” She comes to a stop, takes a breath, and slowly turns to her mother. Not meeting her eyes, of course, because it’d hurt too much to see the hate in her eyes. “Look at me.” The mother growls. She slowly moves to meet her mothers eyes and finds nothing but rage there; energy matched to the thunder and rain outside. “You will not see that-” The derogatory term gets caught up in her throat.

Taking a step towards the elder, “What?” Daring to ask the question to which she already knows the answer. “What do you want to say mother?” Her jaw tightens, a sign that Emily knows all too well. “Spit it out.” Its taking everything in her not to raise her voice again and spew the word out for her mother.

Elizabeth takes a breath of her own before replying. “You are not to see that girl again or so help me, I will make sure she goes back to where she came from.” Before Emily could object, she speaks again. “That is final Emily.” Her voice holds strong, and suddenly the storm ceases its assault. 

All is quiet in the Prentiss house yet the tension remains; so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Disregard

The next morning you arrive to school earlier than usual, but for good reason. Some random college hoodie wrapped loosely around your torso and a dainty neck tucked under it. Your school uniform has never fit you quite right because of how late in the year you transferred, you know...left overs. Phone is going absolutely crazy in your shirt pocket but now isn't the time, you’re looking for somebody. You’re looking for her. Mr. Ricci’s voice can be heard on your left, telling a group of guys its time for class. Emily...where the hell are you?

As the day progresses you still see no sign of the brunette until now. “Emily!” Running up to her you deliver a swift punch to her shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?” When her eyes meet yours they puffy, like she’s been crying. “Em- I-”

“First of all, ouch. Secondly, I can’t right now.” She turns to walk off with her lunch in hand, but you quickly pull her back by her elbow.

“You ‘can’t’ right now? What the hell is wrong with you?” Its taking everything in you not to become overtly emotional. “And where have you been?”

“Y/n I’m sorry but I really can’t right now.” She pulls away from your grip. Leaving you more confused than before.

You scuff at her wording. “You never calls me by my first name...” Its always been her thing, starting with a joke about how she has another friend by the same name as you so she had to call you something else. The next day was the same, avoiding you at all costs.

But it didn’t stop there.

It felt as though you were left on a physical manifestation of ‘read.’ Her name with the red heart emoji attached, did not pop up on your phone for what seemed to be months but in reality it had only been a few weeks. If she were to simply pick up the phone you would have been able to tell her about your unforeseen departure time. Due to sudden changes in international studies, you had to leave and the academy needed their student back. The one of which you exchange places with in January. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of leaving. Not only are you leaving her, but also leaving this city you got to call home.

Sunny days always seem to appear at the wrong time, your departure day. She’s not here to see you off, hasn’t been around for a while. Can you really blame her? She doesn’t even know you’re leaving because she wont pick up the fucking phone. It doesn’t matter anymore, your time is up and so is her’s. A line of black and white kittens sprint across the cobblestone streets and that right there is what makes you break down in tears. Seeing the delicate kittens run after a mouse while tripping over their own feet. Random yellow flowers peaking through the stone which you’ve never known the actual name of. That one girl in Chem that would bake cookies for the class on Fridays. Your host dad taking you to his favorite café that served an increasing number of Cuban smokers. Going to eat gelato after homeroom with that one guy who would always make Golden Girls references. Then there was Emily, the girl that gave you a dainty gold necklace for valentines day. The girl that got a random jock to stop harassing you. The person whose lap you’d lay in on Saturday mornings at the park, is the same person who randomly started to ignore you. Maybe you could have fixed things with her if you had more time. You were supposed  to have until June but suddenly everything shifted and all you were told is that you needed to come home, promptly. You couldn’t wait for her any longer, not even sure why you thought she’d come in the first place. Casting one last glance over your shoulder before stepping into the buzzing airport.

At least meet me half way.

Hereafter

"I don’t think so.” You laugh at your friend’s proposition to set you up on a blind date. “I am absolutely content with the way I choose to live my life.” Shifting a bit on the new couch that hasn’t been broken in, resulting in the stiff cushions.

He lets out this weird scuffing noise. “No you’re not. Remember last weekend when we tried to pull an all-nighter but your sleep deprived brain betrayed you?” At your nonchalant shrug, he continues. “You started rambling about just wanting to find some well educated, fun loving, female in this world full of bureaucratic straight men. Your words, not mine.” You throw a pillow at him but he swiftly doges it. “But you couldn’t have said it better.” These recent years have been a series of unfortunate dates that have ended in you lying about having to leave early for something.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend you should be getting home to?”

“Not tonight, I’m all yours. Apparently she has her knitting circle tonight.”

“That's what you get for dating an older woman.” 

“Its a five year age difference! What is wrong with you people?”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Nothing, as long as you’re both legal and she’s good to you, its fine by me.”

“Shut up!” He screeches. “Oh shit, don’t you have a meeting in the morning?”

“Yes sir.” He stands to take your glasses and plates in the kitchen but you object. “Leave it,” At his confused expression, you continue. “Cleaning helps me relax so I figured I’ll wake up early so I can do that and reduce my stress levels by at least ten percent.”

“Dude, you’re seriously weird.”

“Say another bad thing about me and I'm sending you home.”

Throwing him a few pillows from the hallway closet and a comforter just for him to scream, “Its too hot in this cottage core apartment!”

Its not even cottage core themed?? Its just cozy with a plant or two. Am I expected to live in an ice cold home? I feel like he’s just saying this because I’m gay.

Your prepared outfit hands on the back of your bedroom door, mocking you. Making you reconsider the entire thing and simply not go but it feels as though you’d regret it if you didn’t. Maybe not, who knows?

And with that as your final though, you drift off to sleep.

You wake at the amazing time of 6 A.M to see your guest gone with a note on the couch:

I cleaned up the mess from last night and I also did the dishes in your sink. Not sure how u slept through all of that...I made a fruit salad for ur breakfast and a normal one for lunch.

Good luck with your meeting!

And one of those old fashioned emoticons at the bottom corner. Idiot.

You eat the food he left from the fridge, brush your teeth with the news playing in the background, and continue on with the normal morning routine.

Gathering your lunch and the little items you feel like you’d need, phone, charger, paper work, and keys; you know, the works. Finally heading out to your destination with nothing but ambition, you run into a slight problem. 

Overlapping breakfast with an old friend of yours. “Hey, babe, I am so sorr-”

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The positive voice rings through the phone like velvet sheets after a cold shower. “You missed our reservation!” Have to admit hearing them whine is pretty entertaining. “You had one job. One!” You guys met some years ago over some random online forum, arguing over some random movie. You don’t talk as much as you’d like but breakfast is always on the menu--mostly in February.

“Quick question, am I allowed to apologize?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, “Yes you may, but only in fruit baskets and coffee.”

“I got you, next time though. I’m on my way to something right now.”

“Something...” In comes the teasing undertone. “Does this ‘something’ have a name?”

Bursting into a fit of laughter at what is implied and replying, “Definitely not, its a work thing.”

“Speaking of work, I have to go. Ciao!”

Just in time to end the call, you pull into the designated parking deck from the email. Going through all of the security procedures was hell but blatantly necessary; the rest was gravy. Floating through the rest of the building gave you a slightly stressful feel because of all the men walking around with perfect suits and casting no glances your direction. When the glass doors labeled BAU appear, you take a deep breath and walk in with confidence. Taking in the buzzing sound of agents at work all around you. Agent Hotcher’s office is glaringly obvious: higher up than the rest, perfect overview of the hive, and in direct eye sight of the entryway doors.

Delivering a swift knock to the office door you hear a faint invitation from the inside. Walking in with a smile and straight back you are greeted with a man in a dark navy blue suit and a stoic look to attached to him. It first starts with the small talk of your experience, early life, skill sets, and what not.

“Agent Hotchner, might I speak out of line for a moment.” He gives you a skeptical look before nodding. “I understand the nature of this meeting but I am not completely sure why it was conducted.” His furrowed brown is not a good sign, making you correct your structure a bit. “Right, well,” God his stare is fucking intense. “What I mean to ask is, why am I here?”

That was bold.

“Agent, are you not aware that this is a Career Analysis Assessment?” As it slowly sinks in an O-shape forms with your mouth. Now you feel like a complete idiot in front of this prestigious, tight suited, man. “You were unaware? Its fine if you were,” You let out a sigh at the confirmation. “I have a tendency to write my emails with an excessive amount of four syllable words so one could see where the confusion originated.” You let out a nervous laugh at the realization that this is basically a job interview.

“I see that you’ve spent time studying abroad.” Indicated by the recommendations from your Italian Psychology teacher. “Why not join the CIA?”

“Dare I say, they make me nervous?” He cracks a small, very subtle, smile at the admission.

“What made you want to leave Human Resources?”

“I got tired of analyzing decisions with nothing but dead bodies and messy crimes and having my primal focus be the agents and not the victims or perpetrators. Using what I’ve learned as material for agents in training when I could have prevented it from happening.”

“Well said, but I need to be completely transparent with you.” This can’t be good. “I will admit that I have serious reservations about adding a Human Resources officer to my team.”

Shit let me stop him before this spirals. He thinks I’m a spy. “Sir, with all do respect, I have no intentions of being a bureaucratic spy. I’d also like to point out that I wasn’t that high on the HR totem pole to the point where I had an explicit say on what happens to agents, who is hire, fired, or how they’re trained. I analyzed and compromised while expressing my findings to an unbiased extent. If I wanted to be a spy I would have joined the CIA.” Besides, Head Quarter’s is the one that does all of that internal investigation stuff, not HR.

He doesn’t say anything or make any sudden movements for a good minute. I fucked up. That spy line was too far. “I’d like to offer you a position on this team, so long as you can start immediately.”

“Yes, of course I can! I don’t have much office supplies besides a pen or two and-”

“Its fine,” He stands from his seat and straightens the dark blazer. “I’ll have one of my agents show you around.”

From across the bullpen you spot a familiar blonde. “Oh my god!” The file in her hand falls to the floor. “Its you!” She practically squeals.

“Penelope, I didn’t know you work here.” You give your old friend a tight, unapologetic hug. She said she worked as a tech analysis but you always assumed it was for an activism group or a tech firm, not the FBI out of all things. Despite having such interesting jobs, you never talk about work with each other. She knows you work for the government but not which. Although knowing how good she is at uncovering people’s secrets, there’s a good chance she already knew you work for the FBI too.

“What are you doing here? Like physically here. I thought you were in Florida.”

“I have to get back, can you take care of Agent Y/L/N for me?” Hotchner says before rushing off without an answer.

And there she goes with the snooping. “Actually, I left the Florida office and went to California.”

“Oh.” Her face twists a bit. “And now you’re here?”

“I thought you were the woman behind the curtains, the all knowing.”

“And wonderful!” She points with her perfectly painted finger.

In comes a slim man with a messenger back, making a click in your mind. “Now where have I seen him before...” Turning slightly to follow his trail.

“That’s our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Unbelievable. “He’s twelve.” The young agent’s head snaps toward you and Penelope, “Does he have super human hearing too?” She introduces you to the Doctor who is, as expected, socially awkward in many ways. A man named David Rossi of whom you’ve met at least once during a few Bureau seminars; last you heard he had rejoined the BAU after retirement. Jennifer Jareau is gorgeous with a nurturing nature about her, she immediately recognizes your name from exchanged paperwork but that’s about it. The introductions are brief, everyone seems to be busy with their own things. “Penelope your team is kind of small.” You quietly mention to her.

“Oh!” Guess the realization that two people are missing, finally clicks in her head. She starts walking in the direction of a staircase so you automatically follow her. “This is Derek Morgan.” Standing in front of a round table is a tall man with a really toned body. “Derek, this is Agent Y/n L/n from Human Resources.” His eyebrow arches up in suspicion.

“Oh no I’m not here for anything bad, I’ve actual been transferred into the BAU. Working behind a desk and watching as others do the work I can’t, wasn’t working out for me.” Definitely won’t trust me until I save his life or something. “I’ve heard of you, one of the Academy trainers has shown a few videos of you.” He smirks at the implied compliment and finally holds his hand out for you to shake.

“Where’s...” Pen trails while looking around.

“Oh she’s getting coffee.” The darker man points behind himself.

“Who’s getting coffee?”

Reconciliation

Maybe we wouldn’t be so short handed if they sprung for better coffee. Emily thought to herself while stirring the flavorless, dark liquid. What if they attach a coffee shop to the building? Imagine how much money the shop would make off of overworked agents. But then I feel like we’d start developing a true addiction to this stuff. Her thoughts are interrupted by the approach of foot steps. She meets Derek’s figure and smiles at the resident goofball of the BAU. Followed by Penelope’s pink centralized outfit with feathers. Then there’s you, just as beautiful as the last time you saw each other. If not more. Your hair shines amongst the florescent lights, paired with the perfectly tailored outfit and jewelry. The same eyes that would brighten her day as they met. An almost unnoticeable bounce in you walk, same as it were years ago. As you step towards her there is a flash of gold on your wrist that sends a ping to Emily’s heart, its the necklace I gave you in high school.

Intersect

You would have know about Emily’s transfer here from a few years ago, had her paperwork gone through the HR department but apparently it went straight to the top because this is definitely a surprise. Once you realize its actually her you stop dead in your tracks. Can’t be.

“Y/n,” She stutters out your name in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Emily, I work here.” Ripping the band-aid off like this is an every day encounter; seeing your unofficial ex who you were never actually with in the first place but had the same characteristics as a high school couple. Yeah...that.

She also blurted out a ‘no you don’t’ before Garcia interrupted. “How do you two know each other?”

You both snapped your heads to her simultaneously. “We don’t.” Also said that part at the same time.

“Right.” She drags. “I’m sensing some unresolved tension...”

“What are-” Em tries to object.

“So we’re going to go.” The tech analysis grabs the sleeve of the darker man and practically sprints off in the opposite direction. Morgan having a dumbfounded look on his face.

It feels like you’re at a stalemate, who will make the first move. What will the emotions be? Are they going to fly? Because I’d like to throw a few verbal punches her way. Who does that to someone? I thought I was over it but clearly the wound is still open. Great now watch her blame me for X, Y, and Z,

“I’ve missed you.” She barely whispers, sounding a bit broken yet insincere. Its like she’s detaching herself from the narrative. So unexpected that you almost think you’re imagining this. Why would she say that? This is not the Emily you remember.

Anger bubbles up in your throat ready to unleash upon her entirety. Instead of bursting into flames right on the spot, in the middle of your new place of employment you take a deep breath. Words of disbelief  dance on your lips before speaking. “You did not.” She tilts her head like a curious puppy. Who am I even talking to?

“What do you mean?” And just like that she’s whisked away by a guy in a suit of whom you do not recognize. Your jaw clinches in a desperate attempt to keep your cool, wondering what the hell is going on.

Realization

Besides the surprise of seeing Emily, your first day went great. Everyone kept checking up on you and you couldn’t tell if it was because they were trying to be friendly, excited to have a new teammate, or nervous of your background. “She used to work for the FBI Human Resources Branch.” You heard the skinny one tell Morgan when they thought you weren’t listening.

JJ and Penelope invited you out for drinks but all you really wanted to do was lay in your bed with a face mask and a bag of chips. Waving a farewell to the blonde women and head to your car, but a few feet away you feel a presence. You quickly loop around in search of the energy with your hand on the top of your gun. “Woah woah.” Emily holds her hands up in surrender.

At the realization of who it is you take a breath and clip your gun back in place. You give her a “what the hell look” before straightening your outfit.

“Were you going to shoot me?”

She’s met with wide eyes from your end. “Maybe?! Who sneaks up on someone with a gun?”

“I didn’t ‘sneak’ up on you.”

“Emily, you wear all black and walk like a feather. What were you expecting?” The buried anger is starting showing through.

“Okay,” She does a weird hand movement that kind of looks like she’s trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I just thought we could talk.”

“Talk...” You’re not really following.

“Yes, I’d like to talk.”

“Emily what are you asking? I’m lost.”

She take a moment to figure it out before answering. “For a second chance, I’m asking for another shot.”

You uncross your arms at the admission, letting them lazily fall beside you. “Em- I-” She can’t be asking what I think she is. “Its been years. More than a decade has passed since-” The words suddenly die on your lips

“I know,” And it looks like there’s a slight glimmer in her eyes, implying the presence of suppressed tears. “I’d just like to explain.”

“Explain?” You bite, tasting the bitter flavor of annoyance.

“Yes, I at least owe you that.”

And that’s how you ended up here, with her. In a cozy, minimalistic loft at nine in the afternoon with a coffee table separating the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing to break the silence, and this time it actually sounded sincere. “If I could have explained everything to you back then, I would have.”

You lean forward, closer to her and push the rather large vase off to the side so she has to be vulnerable with you. Nothing to help her hide from herself. At her confused face you lean back in your seat and nod for her to continue.

“My mother was always a difficult woman and although she has gotten better over the years, things were at their worst when she found out how much time I had been spending with you.” The brunette takes a minute before admitting the next part. “She was responsible for your early departure. I tried to stop her, give you more time but she’s relentless.” She waits for your reaction but when met with nothing, she continues. “She threatened me by putting our connection on the line, which in retrospect I now realize was impossible to save. She had already made calls to get you out of the country by the time I could sever what we had. I never wanted to hurt you or end what we shared.”

“And what did we share, Emily?”

Her tongue darts from between her lips, doing that weird little biting thing she’s always done since we’ve known each other. It sparks something in you that you haven't felt in a while. “I think you know. The fact that you still wear the necklace I gave you, bracelet, means you never really forgot.”

“I liked it where I could see it, but Em you could have called, texted even.” 

“I couldn’t I was scared. Then after you left I started to distance myself from everyone and everything was really going downhill.”

“How so?”

“I got mixed up with peer pressure and boys.” This doesn’t sound good. “At one point I did anything I could to fit in.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a moment when a tear wells up on one of her eyes, but not dropping. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I-” She tries to speak but nothing comes out. “I couldn’t tell my mother and the church wasn’t happy with my actions.” It suddenly dawns on you, like a smack in the face. You want to make her stop and just hold her but this needs to come out. “I couldn’t call you because it would hurt too much. I hated myself at that moment more than I ever have.”

“And you haven’t dated since?”

She sniffles and lets out a little laugh at that. “God no, I’ve dated people but I haven't dated another female since. It felt wrong, like I was replacing you or something.”

“You owe me nothing. You were just trying to protect me and I see that now.”

“I knew better, its been so long and when I heard you joined the academy I-”

“Wait, you knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Y/n I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other that attempt to move on.” Silence fills the room and its not the comforting kind. Its the tense, I need to do something, kind.

“Do you feel anything?” You dare to ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Were your feelings lost in transit?”

“They froze the day you left, and thawed the day I saw you again. Today.”

“So its not over.”

She appears to contemplate your statement. “No, its not over. We have a chance to start over.”

What now?

.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*★*･ ･*･'･*:..:*･゜ﾟ･*☆*:. .｡.:*☆

Welcome to  the tag list. Click here to be added or send me an Ask.

@beyondprincess  @millipop18 @supercorp8388 @groovygoob @emilyprentisswife @covetedcoven @justaghostmonument @rabid-wild-misfits @nomit16 @afuckingshituniverse @mys2425 @fanfictionfangirl04 @aaron-hotchner187 @lisztomaniacalice @thestrawberrygirl @penelope-garciasbitch​  @criminalmindsmoodrn @ssacandice-ray @davidrossiismydad @blakes-dictionxry @ssaemxlyprentxss @andreaxxg13 @emilyprentissistoocute @mortallythoughtfulgurl @iamyouknow-yours @aesthbaby​

@emilyprentissistoocute​ @confused-and-really-hungry

If you’d like to be removed or was accidently tagged, shoot me an ask. 3

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #reader x emily prentiss #agent emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #y/n x emily prentiss #you x emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x fem!reader #female reader #gender netural reader #prentiss x reader #bau #fbi x reader #x reader

[sjytify]

My self concept was really good and i was on a roll but then the 3d discouraged me and i’ve been feeling awful these past couple of days:(

I say my affs but in my head there’s this underlying thought that they won’t work and idk how to stop it

I wanna manifest my dream life before my birthday which is in less than 2 weeks but idk what to do anymore i’ve been trying for months but this stupid cycle keeps on happening and idk how to break it

I mean when im not spiraling arent i persisting? If so then why do i not see anything??😭

stop trying to seek evidence in the 3D / outer reality anon that’s the problem. when u seek evidence in the outer reality, imo u’re just being desperate of ur desires when u already have it all! like what i’ve said, don’t wait for it bcs it’ll manifest just like when u want it to manifest! it is already set in stone in the 4D so u don’t have to worry abt a single thing, it’ll be pushed out into the outer reality bcs it has no choice but to follow the story in the 4D. the 4D is a limitless reality when 3D is always maleable bcs anything can happen. i hope it helps anon 🫂 u got this anon u are a master manifestor! 🤍