#id rather hear them tell me they all want to spend less time with me or possibly even drift away from the friendship altogether | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pufflyhallows · 4 years

Text

Getaway

Gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Business is going bad after the war and Fred is not feeling so great, so you decide to cheer him up with a special trip.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, language, tiny tiny bit of angst, still fluffy tho

a/n: this is my FIRST smut EVER so... be nice? also, Fred fucking LIVES bc I’m in denial forever lol

Word count: 4,3k

********

You wanted to surprise Fred.

He had been feeling down lately. Ever since he and George reopened the shop after the war, things had been a little tough. The movement was still quite slow, given the fact that people were still recovering from the war, mourning their lost ones and starting new lives. It was a difficult time for everyone, and of course it affected Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes as well.

What ached your heart the most was the fact that there wasn’t much you could do to help him. Every day you watched as he took longer to get out of bed in the morning, how he sounded slower and quieter when talking to you and, the worst part, how he acted quite mechanic when doing his chores around the shop, the same ones he enjoyed so much in the past and had always gotten done with a bright smile on his face. And although he never stopped caring for you or being loving to you, the bedroom had become… inactive. And you missed it. You missed being intimate with your boyfriend, but every time you tried to initiate it, he would softly decline, claiming to be too tired. You believed it. You could see he was indeed exhausted. And not only physically, but mentally too. Perhaps the latter was actually the one weighing more.

George, however, was quite the opposite. He kept his optimism high and was always the first to wake up every morning, excited with the new day and new possibilities. He would often go out and promote the shop, talk to people and sometimes even manage to bring a customer in.

This big difference between them worried you. No, you did not expect the twins to act the same, but you hoped in secret that Fred would follow his brother’s steps and cheer up a bit.

Cheer up. Yeah. That was exactly what he needed. And what better way to cheer up someone than a surprise trip? That’s how you were going to take his mind off of work. With Hermione’s help, you planned a very romantic weekend trip out of town. You talked to George beforehand, of course, but he assured you he could take care of the shop by himself for two days. He agreed Fred needed this.

“It’s not like we’re getting many customers anyway,” he had said.

So, as Friday approached, you felt the excitement building up. You managed to act completely nonchalant around him, making sure he didn’t suspect a thing. It wasn’t a big, expensive hotel because you knew he would worry about money and that was the opposite of what you wanted for this trip. Hermione had helped you pick a small, comfy hotel that was quite charming and fit your pocket perfectly. You wanted to make sure Fred felt loved, cared for and relaxed. There was also a little extra surprise inside your suitcase that you really hoped he would like…

What you didn’t know was that Fred felt guilty. He reckoned he hadn’t been the boyfriend you deserved lately, but he couldn’t help it. The stress was almost eating him alive and his mind was always wandering back to the shop, worrying about its future. You had been so kind and patient with him, he knew you deserved better than that. The whole thing was snowballing and sometimes he couldn’t see it ending.

That Friday, when you got home from work, the shop was still open and there was actually a customer inside, talking with George. You felt relief wash over you, because you knew what that meant: Fred was probably in a good mood.

You walked straight to the flat, not daring to interrupt George, but you stopped in the middle of the stairs to watch. He was speaking with such enthusiasm, showing and explaining his products to the young boy, that it filled you with pride. You caught his eyes for a brief moment and noticed the smallest of smirks appear on his lips. Smiling back, you nodded at him. Fred was nowhere to be seen, though, so you went upstairs.

There was a delicious scent coming from the kitchen. The older twin was there, cooking. You smiled to yourself at the sight. His favorite The Weird Sisters record was playing somewhere in the flat, adding a familiar, comfortable feel to the whole scene. Fred’s back was facing you while he chopped… carrots? on the counter. He didn’t seem to notice your presence just yet, so you took advantage of that. Placing your bag on the nearest chair, you walked in quiet steps towards your boyfriend. The fresh mint aroma coming from him meant he had probably just showered. Oh, and how you missed showering with him.

You couldn’t refrain your smile from growing even bigger once you noticed Fred’s body was swinging from side to side, so imperceptibly that you almost missed it. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek on his back. You felt him tense up for a mere second before realizing who it was. He soon relaxed, letting go of the knife and placing his clean hand on yours.

“Didn’t hear you coming in,” he stated, voice low and raspy.

You hummed in response and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. Fred turned around and briefly met your lips with his.

“It’s gonna take a while. Why don’t you go take a bath?”

“I will,” you nodded, running your hand from his chest to his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “How was your day?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay”, you repeated. “Well, I hope I can make it better. I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. I have an idea of how we can spend your days off.”

“Hm… Making plans already, are we?”

“Very good plans, yes. But you’ll have to wait until dinner.”

“Or you could tell me right now so I won’t have to.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirked and gave him another peck on the lips before rushing off the kitchen and leaving your boyfriend to his curiosity and imagination.

The warm bath made you think about a lot of things and you came to realize you were very lucky. The war was over and there you were, taking a bath in your boyfriend’s flat, the person you loved the most in the world. So many people lost their loved ones, their homes, their entire lives in that war. You knew you had many reasons to feel happy and should not take them for granted. Life was good for you right now, and you acknowledged it, promising to yourself that you were going to enjoy it the best you could, with Fred by your side.

George joined the two of you for dinner, which turned out to be the best you had in months. Not because of the food, although it was perfect, but because it felt like everything was back to normal, like all the meals you had shared before the war. Maybe it was the idea of a day off and the mention of a surprise from you, but you could see that Fred was already less gloomy or aloof.

After the meal, as if sensing you wanted to reveal your plans to Fred, George excused himself to his bedroom, claiming he still had to finish some work. You wished him goodnight, not missing the discrete wink he gave you.

“So…” you started, watching as Fred emptied his glass of pumpkin juice. “Remember when I said I had an idea on how to spend your days off?”

“Oh, yes. The surprise.”

“Well… I figured you could use a little rest from everything, so I made a reservation at a very nice hotel for the two of us to spend the weekend at.”

“You what?” Fred asked, a small smile starting to grace his lips.

“The portkey is set for our departure at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts,” you shook your head. “I have already packed our bags.”

“Y/N, doll, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m amazing, the best thing that ever happened to you, an angel sent from heaven… Something humble like that.”

Fred chuckled, that contagious sound you missed hearing so much. “You’re amazing. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, a true angel sent from heaven.”

“I know! We’re gonna have so much fun,” you smiled excitedly, clasping your hands together.

“What exactly are your plans for us, though?” your boyfriend questioned, curiosity dripping from his lips.

“Oh, you’ll find out once we’re there.”

“The surprise doesn’t end here, I see.”

“Exactly. I have everything planned, baby.”

The look in Fred’s eyes seemed to indicate he had an idea of what you had planned, but he did not say a word about it. He would like to see the surprise reveal itself in the right moment. He wasn’t going to spoil your plans in any way.

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

You always had your doubts when it came to ads, but this time you had to admit this was spot on. The hotel looked exactly like its pictures and descriptions.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” the receptionist asked as soon as you stepped in the lobby.

It was something so small, so simple, but it made your heart flutter and stomach fill with those restless butterflies. Mrs. Weasley. Were you ever going to become that? You wondered if Fred even noticed the little misunderstanding.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Actually, it’s just one Weasley. Fred Weasley. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your slight flustered manner didn’t go unnoticed by Fred. Despite the obvious nervousness, he thought it was rather cute. In fact, he liked to hear you be called that. Perhaps he should do something about it…

“Oh, I apologize. Mr. Weasley and Miss Y/L/N,” the receptionist corrected herself as she checked the reservation’s book. “You’re right on time, your room is ready for you. I just need your wands for ID confirmation before I give you your key.”

Both of you handed your wands to the young woman behind the desk and she did as she was supposed to. Sooner than you had anticipated, you were in the lovely suite you had reserved.

Fred placed the small handbag on the bed – blessed be the extension charm, that’s all you had to carry for that trip – and walked around the room curiously. You went straight for the big window and opened the curtains. There it was. The view you had seen on the ad and that had made you instantly choose this hotel.

“Fred,” you called softly, looking behind you. “Come see.”

Your boyfriend let go of the catalog on the nightstand and approached you, eyeing the outside in awe.

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

When making the reservation, you were met with the question: would you like a room with view to the street/village or to the beach? And you chose the beach, although the village was a lovely sight. Now, seeing Fred’s reaction, you were absolutely sure you had made the right choice.

The hotel was in a small village where both wizards and muggles lived. With a little help from magic, the wizards could go unnoticed and the muggles lived everyday life without a single clue of the existence of such peculiar neighbors. The beach was right behind the village, and your room being in the back of the hotel, you had a wonderful privileged view of nature’s beauty.

“Wanna go down there?” you asked.

“What’s in your plans?” he asked back, switching his gaze from the window to you.

“Beach,” you replied with a small smile. “Basically the entire day at the beach, lunch at a muggle restaurant down there too. But dinner here.”

“I’ll follow your script, doll.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his lips ever so gently on yours. You instantly let go of the curtains so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. The light fabric fell back to its place, covering the windows again and leaving the room a little darker than before. Fred’s gentle kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

No, not yet.

You broke the kiss and pulled back, biting your lip as you started to feel that you might not be able to wait until the right time for your surprise.

“I’m starving,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” he pulled you closer again.

“Let’s go, then.” You managed to get out of his embrace and grab the handbag before heading to the bathroom to change into your bathing suit.

A hungry Fred was left standing by the big window.

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

It had been hard.

It had been hard seeing you in so little clothing, dripping wet, skin glistening as droplets of water reflected the sunlight. But Fred managed.

All he had in his mind every time he saw you leaving the water was how he wanted to take you then and there. He had to distract himself from those thoughts, paying attention to what you were saying but not too much to your moving lips. He knew you had something planned and he was appreciative of how much effort you had put in this weekend for him. That was the only reason he wasn’t indulging to his not-so-pure thoughts.

Lunch was a good distraction too, specially since you had to convince a muggle child she had imagined it when she saw Fred stop his falling fork mid-air.

Now, as the two of you walked hand in hand back to the hotel, he wondered if he was going to be rewarded for the self-control test he had just passed. You were humming a song as you observed the houses, trying to guess which ones were muggles and which ones were wizards.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Dinner!” you answered excitedly. “But, if I were you, I wouldn’t go overboard.”

“Why, if I may ask?” but Fred already suspected why.

“Well… there might be plans for after dinner as well.”

Fred held your hand tighter and pulled you towards the hotel in a faster pace. You chuckled, feeling the excitement grow bigger and bigger.

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

“Dessert?” the waiter asked as he took the empty plates from your table.

“No, thank you,” Fred replied before you had the chance. “We’re calling it a night, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you smirked at your boyfriend before looking at the waiter. “I’d like chocolate pudding, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as the waiter left, Fred gave you a look.

“What?” you asked nonchalantly.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t go overboard.”

“I’m not going overboard. I had a small plate,” you shrugged.

“Right,” Fred sighed, bouncing his leg under the table.

When your chocolate pudding came, you grabbed the spoon and took a small amount to your mouth. Fred watched your every move, arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed as he saw you slowly lick the spoon. You pretended you didn’t know he was watching, eyes on the tiny bowl in front of you, and you mouthed another spoon, unintentionally getting pudding all over your lips.

Your boyfriend gulped as he watched you run your thumb over your lower lip, getting rid of the chocolate there, and gently suck on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” you looked at him innocently.

“Just eat the damn thing.”

“You want some?” you raised the spoon at him.

“Yes, I want some.”

You felt your cheeks burn just a little bit with his remark, heart begin to race as the ideas for what you wanted to do to him tonight started to flood your mind.

“If you wait patiently, you might get what you want,” you teased, looking back at the bowl and already serving another spoon, which you quickly brought to your lips, licking all the content off of it.

Fred shook his head, one corner of his lips going upwards ever so slightly, eyes glued on you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” you offered again, lips glistening as you cleaned them with your tongue.

“I will taste it,” his eyes pierced through your body and suddenly the hotel was too hot.

You had barely served the last spoon of pudding when Fred stood up and let the waiter know you were headed to the room.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you protested and he immediately took the last spoon from your hand and into his mouth.

“Now you have,” he said as he pulled you from the chair.

The way back to the suite felt much longer than it actually was, but as soon as you reached the door, Fred’s lips were on yours. You had trouble to get the key with your boyfriend’s hands all over you, pulling your body hard against his.

“Fred,” you breathed, stepping back. “There’s another surprise.”

Before he could say anything, you unlocked the door and went inside.

“Sit down,” you slowly pushed him to the bed. “And close your eyes.”

Fred complied with no protests, but you could see he was getting flustered, probably guessing what was coming.

You blew out most of the candles illuminating the room and left only a few to create the romantic atmosphere you wanted. You went to the bathroom and changed into the expensive lacy lingerie you had bought for this exact occasion. It was red, a color you had learned Fred was very fond of when it came to this kind of clothing, and had one small, delicate bow right between your breasts.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked from the bathroom, hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah,” you heard in response.

“No peeking ‘til I tell you to,” you warned.

“…‘kay.”

You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Fred was still sitting on the bed, one leg bouncing impatiently, and a slight frown between his eyebrows.

Slowly, you approached the bed and stood right in front of him.

“Open your eyes,” you whispered.

As soon as he did, Fred sucked in a shaky, quiet breath. He eyed you from head to toe, not hiding his astonishment.

“Baby,” he mumbled in a deep voice, already feeling his pants get a little too tight as his eyes still traveled through your entire figure.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Good,” you smiled, placing your hands on each of his shoulders. “Now let me show you how proud I am to be your girlfriend.”

Your lips met Fred’s in a slow, deep kiss as you climbed the bed and straddled him, your arms thrown around his neck. Fred let out a soft moan when he felt your weight against his lap, his hands going up your back, fingertips sending shivers down your spine as they searched for the bra clasp. However, you stopped them and placed them back on your hips.

“Not so fast,” you whispered against his lips.

Before he could protest, you kissed him again, now pushing him all the way back to lay down on the bed. Hovering above him, you started pulling up his shirt, which he quickly got rid of for you. You chuckled. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had missed this.

Now that you had free access to his torso, you began to place soft, wet kisses on his neck, slowly moving down to his chest and stomach, painfully taking your time.

You could feel Fred’s breathing get deeper and deeper as you kissed his abs, working your way down to his pants. Once there, you stopped the kisses for a brief moment, so you could focus on getting rid of that piece of fabric. Again, Fred quickly helped you out until you were both just in your underwear.

The sight sent goosebumps through your body and you inevitably bit your lower lip. He was already so hard, you felt the anticipation building up inside you.

You decided to torture him for a little bit – just a little bit – and carried on with the kisses, not taking off his underwear quite yet. However, Fred’s impatience was growing and he didn’t think he would manage to wait for too long. His hand found your hair and he started stroking it, running his fingers through it, a disguised way to guide your head to where he needed you the most. You realized his intentions, but you did not stop him. You let him take you where he wanted and soon your lips found his still covered length.

“Shit, Y/N.”

You smirked.

Slowly, you started pulling down the last piece of clothing until you completely freed him. He was so beautiful. You still had a silly smile on your face as you ran your tongue all the way up from the base to the tip, where you placed a gentle kiss. Fred’s soft moan reached your ears, a beautiful sound that made you even more wet.

You took him in your mouth and started sucking the tip in a slow, teasing pace, while your hand loosely stroked him. You didn’t want him to cum yet. You wanted him to last. And you were going to make him last.

Fred’s hand never left your hair, and he began to slightly pull it, asking for more. He needed more.

“Y/N,” he moaned. “Y/N, please.”

You ignored him and kept going in that insanely slow pace, taking your time. What was the hurry?

You heard a low groan, and felt him move his hips against you. You stopped.

“Behave yourself, Weasley.”

“Baby… Please.”

You smirked again, giving him one last stroke, and you let go of him.

Fred looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. His eyes were dark, full of pure lust. But also desperation and discontent with the sudden lack of touch.

You crawled on the bed until your face was right above his, and you kissed him. It was a deep, passionate, hurried kiss between two people who were eager for each other. This time, you didn’t stop Fred’s hands from going up your back and unclasping your bra. He took it off and you quickly felt his left hand on your right breast, squeezing it. His right hand, however, was going up and down your side, sending shivers through your bare skin. He rested it on your waist for a little bit before going down to your ass and squeezing it tightly. You moaned against his lips, your own impatience growing.

You only stopped the kiss to get rid of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him.

Fred watched as you got off of him and started to pull it down your smooth legs. He could feel his cock throbbing at the sight of your completely naked body. You were breathtakingly, heart-racingly beautiful. He loved the lingerie, he really did, but he loved your body a thousand times more. And he would never get tired of looking at it.

When you straddled him again, skin to skin now, he thought he would cum right then and there. You smiled at him, that beautiful smile that never changed, and kissed him one more time. Fred placed his hands on your waist, squeezing it gently, as if to encourage you. Not wasting another second, you guided his tip to your entrance and slowly sank down on him, allowing him to get all the way inside you, quite easily given how wet you were.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned.

Letting out your own whimpers, you placed your hands on his chest and started riding him, still slowly, still teasingly. Fred’s moans soon turned into groans, complaints. He was getting tired of the teasing, he was already on edge. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a swift move, Fred shifted the both of you so now he was on top. He started thrusting into you, quite roughly, earning a loud approving moan from you.

“Fred,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He kept going, pounding harder and harder, moaning as he did so.

You started kissing his neck, biting, sucking, anything that would leave a mark.

“Yes, baby,” you cried out as he thrusted even deeper.

The bed was making a discreet creaking sound that you weren’t sure if the people in the other rooms could hear. You hoped not, but honestly? Right now you didn’t care. The sound of Fred’s heavy breaths, moans, groans and whimpers were all you were paying attention to. Beautiful sounds that had the power to shut down anything else in your mind.

The rhythm he had created was sending you to heaven with every motion. His lips soon found your own again and he kissed you as if he hadn’t done it just minutes before.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close.”

“Me too.”

As you felt your body tense, Fred came inside you with a low groan, slowing down just a tad bit. He kept thrusting, however, knowing you were about to reach your climax too. And not long after him, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, and your body relaxed completely.

Both of you were panting against each other’s neck, your arms still loosely around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on top of you.

Hugging him more tightly, you felt Fred leave small kisses on your neck, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the extra-tingly sensation. You started to run your fingernails up and down his back, the other hand caressing his hair.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the giggling of children playing down there, and the muffled music coming from the muggle restaurant. You felt so at ease.

After a long moment of peaceful, comforting silence, Fred looked up and smiled. “I love you so much.”

You smiled back. “I love you too.”

Not bad for round one.

********

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #random tag

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

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It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #hermann's pov in that one bit was just 'mouth............'

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

berry hill.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3 intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc. words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn.

summary: "...and there was only one bed." - old fanfiction proverb

waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021

It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you.

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID.

“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point.

“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”

You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes.

“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”

He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks.

“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.

You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”

Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do.

He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation,

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again.

You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape.

Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times.

You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding.

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset.

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all.

That’s enough.

You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice.

His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.

��It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.”

He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

+++

Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone.

He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.

“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”

You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

“Funny.”

You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

+++

Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you.

“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”

A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”

“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”

You laugh. “I am so glad.”

“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.”

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.”

Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”

“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.”

A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it.

“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Seaver.”

+++

On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created.

“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her.

You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.”

Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.”

“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching.

“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.”

“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you.

“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point.

You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.”

“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”

There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.”

You throw your hands in the air. “What?”

Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.”

Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious.

Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years.

Shut up.

“Serious about what?”

Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

+++

You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”

He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course. Sleep well.”

You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.

“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you.

“Thank you. Jump in.”

You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine.

He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow.

With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road.

The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile.

Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave?

If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him.

As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.

Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour.

It happened more often than he’d like to admit.

“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed.

He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself.

The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one.

You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest.

Might be good to pick up some food on the way...

He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him.

“Aaron.”

He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.

He fails.

You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you.

It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death.

Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.

The profiling never stopped, it seemed.

It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different.

That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.

Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend.

But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes.

The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp.

“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary.

He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.”

+++

After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive.

Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning.

“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.”

“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”

There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.

“Why is this one your favorite?” You hear yourself ask.

He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”

You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”

You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully.

And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.

“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.”

You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first.

It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow.

+++

You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”

“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”

“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.”

He laughs, and you tell him.

You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge.

“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.

“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.”

“What are they like?”

There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile.

“It’s good of you to keep in touch.”

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce?

There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.”

He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”

“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.”

There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks.

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door.

Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag.

There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part.

He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him.

Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him.

Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think.

Do you ever shut up?

Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you.

When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way.

“What time is our first obligation?”

You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?”

I love you.

Shut up.

You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.

Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips.

Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him.

+++

When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close.

There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep.

You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.

Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart.

He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch.

You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing.

His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep.

You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change.

He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him.

Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose.

Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light.

What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his.

The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now.

If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him.

But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son.

He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side.

The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find.

He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now.

You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you.

There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal.

A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.”

“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else.

You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach.

As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all.

“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.).

You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.”

The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico.”

Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.”

Carson, that’s it.

“No shit!”

A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure.

“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine.

He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is.

And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in.

“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Always.”

It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it.

Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile.

Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other.

You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.”

Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest.

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”

You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron.

Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron.

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway.

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”

“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”

The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”

The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off.

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night.

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?

He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come -

Ew, dude.

What?

Now is not the time.

“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend.

He is your friend.

I know but that…sucks.

It doesn’t have to.

There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.”

+++

You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone.

Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm.

Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.

The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day.

That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself.

If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three.

“We work together.”

“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”

“We’ve been partners for almost four years.”

And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand.

You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home.

But God, he’s good at it.

You almost believe him.

He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together.

You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought.

When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack.

But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms.

He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.

He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too.

How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.

And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together.

You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner.

He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants.

With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower.

While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower.

What if you just -

Do not finish that thought.

You are not one iota of fun.

Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.

You sigh and pull out your phone.

“Prentiss.”

“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder.

You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.”

“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”

“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?”

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan.

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.

You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts.

“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter.

The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.”

“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”

“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.

“So that’s a yes.”

+++

Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you.

But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on.

The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant.

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.”

His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless.

+++

You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you.

“Darling!”

Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.”

She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.”

She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?”

“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”

“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”

You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.”

She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.”

“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.”

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”

He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you.

“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.”

Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you.

When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”

Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He nods, and glances at you. “It does.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie.

As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better.

“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.”

You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”

“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”

“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath.

What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure.

“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”

You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”

“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.”

“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.”

“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.”

+++

When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play.

Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face.

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that.

He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you.

You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died.

You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.

Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.”

The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.

“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts.

He nods. “I do.”

You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands.

The silence that lapses between you is comfortable.

Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...

When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.

The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”

+++

Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.

You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend.

The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items.

There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up.

When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light.

He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers.

His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon.

That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his.

+++

You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you.

“Good morning,” he says.

You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.”

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

Don't read into that.

I’m going to.

Don’t.

Fuck.

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way.

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up.

He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout.

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!”

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man.

“Tell me everything.”

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?”

Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home.

She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”

With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.

“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second.

You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.”

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.”

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack.

“Hey bud!”

There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation.

“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.”

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.

“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice.

He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest.

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat.

As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?”

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile.

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.”

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.”

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.”

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh.

“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.”

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.”

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on.

+++

You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute.

There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world.

It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse.

The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something.

Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door.

You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says

“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.”

He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.”

You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands.

Fuck.

tagged: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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charlies-gillespie · 3 years

Text

last first kiss | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader and Charlie are just friends, until Charlie gets jealous and finally admits to reader how he feels ... “I wanna be last, yeah, baby let me be your last, your last first kiss”

length: short-ish

rating: PG-13

warnings: jealous!charlie, angsty, drinking

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: i was listening to one direction’s “last first kiss” when this imagine idea popped into my head. enjoy :)

The day you were cast to be in season two of Julie and the Phantoms was one of the best days of your life. You met the cast and immediately started getting close to Owen and Charlie. You got so close with the guys that they even offered to be roommates with you while in Vancouver to shoot the show.

It’s the first day of filming and after a very successful day of shooting, Owen invites you and Charlie to go out. You accept the invitation and begin to get ready by showering and using a blow-dryer to dry your hair. You curl your usually straight hair and do your makeup. You do a silver smokey eye with a nude lip color. You add highlight to make your face shine.

Owen knocks on your door and calls, “Y/N! Hurry up! We’d like to get to the club before it closes.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Owen,” you call back. “I need like five more minutes and I’ll be ready to go. Just grab Charlie and get in the car.”

Footsteps walk away from your door and you go to your closet, pulling out a short, light green dress. The dress has sequins all over it and has spaghetti straps as sleeves. The back is open and the neck runs straight across your neck. The dress hugs your body, showing off your curves, and ends about halfway down your thighs. You grab a pair of sparkly silver heels and put them on your feet before grabbing your wallet and phone.

Charlie and Owen both are in the car when you leave the house that the three of you are renting while you’re shooting season two. You see Charlie sitting in the passenger’s seat and notice his eyes are on you. Owen must say something to Charlie because his lips move like he’s talking.

You open the back passenger side door and slide in. Owen looks at you in the rearview mirror of his Tesla and says, “You took forever to get ready. Jesus, Y/N.”

“You spent about ten minutes getting ready and it shows, Owen,” you say, teasing him. Charlie laughs in the passenger’s seat.

Owen looks over at his friend and says, “You don’t have any room to talk, Charles. You spent about ten minutes getting ready too.”

Charlie says, “I didn’t just put in a button-up and call it a day.”

In Charlie’s defense, you say, “Charlie looks like he put effort into how he looks. He doesn’t look like a dad.”

A flash of pretend hurt crosses Owen’s face and he says, “I do not look like a dad.”

“You look like a dad, bro,” Charlie says. “Who wears a Hawaiian style button-up?”

You laugh and Owen says, “We don’t have to go out.”

Charlie says, “We’re going out. Y/N did not spend almost two hours getting ready to not going out.”

All three of you laugh and you say, “Thank you, Charlie.”

Owen smiles and playfully rolls his eyes before he drives off to the nearest club.

The three of you end up at Aura Nightclub. You show your IDs. All of you get stamped to show that you’re legal and can order drinks. Owen is 20 but the legal drinking age in British Columbia is 19 so Owen can legally drink tonight if he wants. He won’t though because he told both you and Charlie in the car that he’s designated driver tonight.

Owen finds a table for your group to sit at while you and Charlie go order a drink at the bar. You show your stamp to the bartender and ask for an Old Fashioned cocktail. Charlie asks for a Martini.

“I never pegged you as a Martini kind of guy,” you tell Charlie as the two of you head to the table Owen found. This is the first time you’re drinking with Charlie since meeting him a few months ago at your audition.

Charlie laughs and says, “I never pegged you as an Old Fashioned kind of girl.”

You take a sip of your drink and say, “Touché.”

Both of you approach the table Owen picked. He picked a high-top table with three chairs. Owen says, “I ordered mozzarella sticks.”

The mozzarella stick catch your attention and you say, “Ooh. Food.”

Owen and Charlie both laugh.

As you are sitting and talking with the guys, a random guy with long jet black hair that’s tied back walks up to you. You can see that he has a very muscular build under the dark blue button-up he’s wearing. He has a full beard and blue eyes.

“Hey,” he says, his attention on you. “I just wanted to come over and tell you that I think you look very nice tonight.” He has a broken Scottish accent.

You look at the man and say, “Thank you.”

The rather handsome man asks, “Would you like to dance with me? Just for a little bit.”

Both Owen and Charlie blink at you as you reply with, “I’d love to.” You smile and hop down from your seat. You hook your arms with the man and head to the dance floor with him.

As you walk off, Charlie’s eyes trail after you. He sits back in his chair and makes an annoyed face, his eyebrows coming together. Owen says, “One of these days, you’re going to miss your chance with her, Charlie. You need to make a move before she finds another guy.”

Charlie says, “And possibly ruin our friendship? No thanks. I’d rather have her in my life as a friend instead of possibly ruining our friendship.”

Owen says, “What about that small chance of her feeling the same way about you? You could be missing your chance and all you’re doing is sitting here and pouting about it. Do something, Charlie, before you lose her.”

With that, Charlie chugs the rest of his Martini and walks to the bar with every intention of getting wasted tonight.

Meanwhile, you dance with the handsome man. You found out his name was Andrew and he’s in Vancouver for work. When you asked what his job was, he replied with, “I lift heavy things up and put them down.”

While you dance with Andrew, you can’t help but think about Charlie. One of the reasons you agreed to come out was to dance with him. The other reason was to see him all dressed up with his hair somewhat neatly done. Occasionally, you’d look at the table but he seemed to disappear.

After about thirty minutes, you say, “Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.” Andrew nods and you walk back to the table. You look at Owen.

“Where’d he go?” you ask, curious.

Owen says, “He’s been at the bar since you walked off to dance with Long, Tall and Handsome.”

You tilt your head in confusion before you find your way to the bar. You spot Charlie with at least half a dozen shot glasses in front of him and he’s drinking a glass of whiskey. You approach him and say, “You left Owen by himself.”

Charlie says, “He can handle himself while I drink. He’s a big boy and he can wear his big boy pants on his own.” His words are slurred.

“What have you been drinking?” you ask.

He thinks for a second before saying, “I’ve had some vodka shots and three glasses of whiskey. Why?”

You take the glass out of his hand and say, “That’s enough for the night. You’re already drunk and we’ve been here for less than an hour.”

A pout forms on Charlie’s face and he says, “That’s not fair that you get to have fun and I don’t.”

You take Charlie’s hand and say, “There are dozens of girls in this club, Charlie. You’re a handsome guy so I’m sure that anyone would be lucky to dance with you. For now, you’re going back to Owen.”

Charlie looks down at your hand connected to his and he says, “You’re holding my hand.”

“We’ve held hands before,” you tell him. “Several times, if I can remember correctly.”

Your memory isn’t the best right now. You’re a severe lightweight and you’ve had two Old Fashioned drinks so you’re tipsy at best.

He tugs you toward him and you’re chest to cheat with Charlie. You stare up at him and he says, “I don’t like that you’re not dancing with me, Y/N. It should be me that you’re dancing with, not him.”

You feel your heart begin to race in your chest. Between how close you are to Charlie and what he just said, you understand why your heart is pounding in your chest.

He’s been your closest friend on the cast, but you’d never turn down the opportunity to be with the brunette.

“You’re drunk, Charlie,” you say. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Charlie says, “I know exactly what I’m saying, Y/N. I’m jealous, and yes I just admitted that to you because I am drunk.”

Jealous. Charlie’s jealous.

You hear One Direction’s “Last First Kiss” begin to play throughout the club and you ask, “Then why didn’t you ask to dance with me before he did?”

He reaches up and cups your face with one hand before he says, “I’m scared that you won’t feel the same way that I do and that I’ll ruin our friendship. I won’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“How do you feel about me?” you ask, meeting Charlie’s hazel colored eyes. His eyes flicker down to your lips as he thinks about his answer.

Charlie’s other hand comes up and cups your other cheek. He says, “I’ve been falling for you since the day we met at your audition, Y/N.”

A little gasp leaves your lips as you look up at Charlie. You take a small step closer to him as you say, “You should do something about it if you’ve been falling for me since day one.”

Slowly, Charlie brings his lips to yours. Your heart flutters in your chest and butterflies appear in your belly as your lips make contact with Charlie’s. Your eyes shut as you grab a fistful of Charlie’s shirt, pulling him closer to you.

I wanna be last, yeah, baby let me be your last. Your last first kiss.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie fluff #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms imagines #imagines #imagine #fluff imagines #fluffy

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jjmaybanksbaby · 3 years

Text

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer II

Part 03: Been A While

series masterlist | previous part

summary: Your second summer in the Outer Banks becomes a whole lot more complicated when you realize a year away from Rafe hasn't changed your feelings for him at all.

a/n: And we're back with summer two - the summer before sophomore year whoop whoop! Writing this gave me butterflies so I hope you have the same feeling reading it! I always love hearing y’all’s commentary so don't be shy to scream about your favorite parts back at me.

word count: 2.5k words

Your mom reached over and tapped you gently on the arm.

"Put your phone away please, y/n. You can text Evan when we land."

"We're not even moving yet." You replied.

As if on cue, the pilot's voice echoed over the intercom. "Good morning passengers. This is your captain speaking. Welcome onboard Flight 4B7 with service from Portland to the Outer Banks. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage..."

You stashed your phone in the pocket of the seat in front of you and closed your eyes, hoping that by the time you woke up you would be landing.

After the way last summer had gone, you were surprised when your mom announced that you were spending the summer in the Outer Banks again.

Frankly, you weren't that happy to be headed to North Carolina. Alice and Kensie, your two best friends back home, had opted not to go to camp this summer so the three of you had planned to spend every day at Alice's pool, biking to the Dairy Queen a few blocks away or begging of your moms to drive you to the mall.

Plus, there was Evan. Your boyfriend of six months. You'd both been cast as the understudies for the leads in the fall musical. Because of some freak food-poisoning accident, both you and Evan had to go on as Cinderella and Prince Charming in the final show. When he kissed you under the bright stage lights, it had felt like more than just a stage kiss. He'd asked you out at the cast party later than night and you'd been dating ever since.

Evan was great. He really was. He was thoughtful and cared about you. But ever since your mom had bought the plane tickets to the Outer Banks back in March, every time you kissed Evan you could only think of Rafe Cameron.

☼☼☼

You trailed behind your mother on the way to baggage claim, bent over your phone responding to the texts Alice and Kensie had sent in the group chat while you'd been in the air. Apparently, they'd bumped into Kensie's crush and need to analyze every detail. A feeling of jealously you hadn't anticipated crept into your chest, weighing you down. Even indoors, the muggy heat of the Outer Banks made it clear how far from Oregan - and from your people - you were.

You looked around the airport, searching for the baggage claim with your flight number and noticed an incredibly familiar head of blonde head of hair standing nearby.

"Sarah Cameron?" You asked.

Sarah spun around a joyful smile on her face. "Oh my god! Y/n!" She ran over, wrapping you in a hug. "Are you back for the summer?"

You nodded your head which elicited another excited scream from her.

"What are you doing at the airport?" You asked her.

"You'll never guess! We're getting a house in the Bahamas!" She gushed.

"Sarah!" A deep voice called. You looked up to see another older-looking version of Rafe headed in your direction.

Your mom froze beside you. "Oh dear," she whispered.

The man's gaze didn't leave your mom. "Heather," he said.

"Ward," she responded.

Oh, you thought. So that's Rafe's dad.

"It's good to see you," your mom continued. "You look," she paused for moment, "good."

"You as well," Ward responded.

The carousel behind you started to move and luggage streamed out.

"That's us," your mom said, pointing over to the moving carousel. "We should go."

"I'll tell Rafe you're back," Sarah whispered to you. "He's gonna be so excited."

You smiled down at her knowing that you'd already made a vow to yourself to avoid him all summer. You refused to let Rafe ruin what you and Evan had and the only way you could guarantee that was making sure you didn't see him at all.

☼☼☼

Sarah bounded in the front door of the Cameron's house. "We're home" she called out, her sing-songy voice echoing through the big house. Ward entered after her, carrying their luggage.

"Welcome home," Rose said, greeting Ward at the door with a kiss.

Sarah rolled her eyes at the exchange. It wasn't that she actively hated her step-mom, she would just have rather her dad not married her. Though he was buying her a house in the Bahamas as an anniversary present so maybe she wasn't all bad.

"Is Rafe upstairs?" Sarah asked.

"I think so," Rose replied.

Sarah ran up the stairs, skipping every other one, the way Ward always told her not to do. She came to a sudden stop in front of Rafe's closed door.

"Rafeeeeee," she yelled, knocking rapidly until his voice bellowed back at her through the wall.

"What do you want Sarah? Go away!" He yelled.

"Fine," Sarah said. "I guess you don't care that y/n is back in town then?"

The door swung open just a few seconds later. “What did you say?” Rafe asked.

“Y/n was at the airport. She’s back in the Outer Banks for the summer.” Sarah turned on her heel and sashayed her way to her own bedroom leaving Rafe in his doorway to process the information.

Maybe this summer will be a whole less boring, Rafe thought.

☼☼☼

The summer was going exactly how you'd expected. It was surprisingly nice to have your younger brother to keep you company and more importantly, keep you busy. You spend your days either on the beach, tanning, watching your brother splash in the waves, and making your way through the reading list of the Honors English class you had opted to take next year or at the Club's pool, eating chicken tenders for lunch and washing them down with the thick chocolate milkshakes.

Rafe's friends frequently made an appearance at the Club. You watched them sneak vodka from flaskes into cups of spirit from being your shaded sunglasses. So far, Rafe had yet to join them.

Currently, Phoebe was flirting hardcore with Sawyer, begging him to put sunscreen on her back so she wouldn't burn. It was all too predictable.

You turned your attention back to Nick Carraway and his descriptions of Gatsby's grand parties momentarily.

You heard Sarah's voice before she appeared next to you and plopped down on the chair your brother had been occupying before he decided he needed more ketchup for his fries and had ran off.

"Y/n," she started with the same youthful energy she always talked with, "has Rafe invited you to our Fourth of July party yet?"

"Umm," you hesitated. "No, he hasn't said anything about it."

"Ugh," Sarah threw her head back in a dramatic motion. "I told him to text you about it. He's useless. Anyway, we throw a huge party for the Fourth every year and you have to come. There are fireworks and everything..."

Sarah's monologue faded to the background as you looked up and noticed Rafe standing at the top of the steps that lead down the pool. Your stomach flopped in the same way it always did when you saw him.

Rafe started walking down the steps and a small panic set in. His own eyes wandered across the pool deck and it was only time before he recognized you. You shifted your body slightly, trying to use Sarah to block yourself from his view.

You turned your attention back to his younger sister, afraid that you'd accidentally make eye contact with Rafe.

Crap, crap crap, you repeated in your head. Rafe was for sure heading in your direction. Even as you forced yourself to focus on Sarah, you couldn't stop yourself from watching Rafe out of the corner of your eye and he was walking straight toward you. Your 'avoid-Rafe-all-summer' plan was going to be impossible now. With every step he took, you could feel your heart beating faster. It felt just like last summer.

Rafe stopped in front of the chair Sarah was sitting in and you couldn't stop yourself from looking up at him, a smile threaten to slide onto your face. The same warm but dangerous feeling you only got when Rafe was around took ahold of you.

"Sarah," he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Ward's looking for you."

She jumped up with a sudden spurt of energy, "Okay, I'll go find him!" She leaned down engulfing you in another hug. "See you around y/n." She said before running off.

"Bye Sarah." You replied.

"You know, you're like my sister's favorite person," Rafe said, still standing above you. "She mentioned you were in-town for the summer..." He let his sentence trail off.

But I hadn't seen you around. You finished for him in your head.

"Yeah, we got in about a week ago." You said. The tension that hung in the air between the two of you was exactly the reason you were trying to avoid him. The last time you had seen him he'd kissed you in a way you hadn't been able to get out your head for months afterward. It was a dangerous game. Nonetheless, here he was standing in front of you and you were barely holding it together.

Your phone began to ring and the photo of Evan kissing your check from homecoming popped up with the caller id. Rafe's eyes glanced over it and an unreadable expression crossed his face.

Right, it was 4 o'clock on Wednesday. The time and day you and Evan had decided you would call each other every week.

"Uhh, I gotta get this." You said to Rafe, reaching over and picking up the phone.

"Yeah, okay. See you later y/n." He replied before walking away from you and to his friends.

Your eyes followed him all the way even as you clicked answered and Evan's voice filled your ear.

☼☼☼

A feeling of nervousness set in as you approached the Cameron's, the absurd number of cars parked outside confirming you were at the right place. You glanced over each of your shoulders worried that your mom would pull up any second to drag you back home after you lied about where you were spending your evening. You felt decently bad about saying you were going to the Club to watch fireworks and coming to the Cameron's instead but you knew your family's stance on Rafe and his dad.

It seemed like the entire population of the Outer Banks was spread across the Cameron's backyard. Adults sipped festive cocktails as little kids, hyped-up onto much sugar, weaved in between their legs, chasing one another around. You looked around hesitantly, thankful when Sarah emerged from the crowd, frosting smeared across her face.

"You made it! I'm so happy you're here!" She screamed.

"Sarah," you laughed. "You have blue frosting all over you." You used your finger to wipe it from her cheek.

"Rose ordered the most delicious cake you've ever had. You have to try it. I can get you some. Do you want some?" She asked eagerly.

"I'm okay right now. Thank you though. Have you seen Rafe?" You asked. You were at his party, after all, it wasn't like there was any point in avoiding him now.

Sarah turned and pointed to the dock where Rafe and his group of friends were standing. "He's over there."

"Great. Okay! I'm going to go say hi."

"Have fun!" Sarah replied with a smile before running off in the same direction she's appeared in.

You made your way through the crowd to the dock, the groups' attention turning to you as you approached.

"Hey," you said, shyly.

Cleo and Riley jumped up from where they had been sitting with their legs dangling in the water.

"Y/n, right?" Cleo asked before leaning in for a hug.

"Yeah. Hi! It's good to see you guys again." You replied.

"You too! Rafe said you were back in town and I was wondering when you'd finally make an appearance." Cleo said.

You look over at Rafe to find him already watching you. He pushed through Cole and Milo and was suddenly in front of you

"Um, y/n and I need to get the fireworks." He said to the group. You watched Riley shoot Cleo a confused look but Cleo just shrugged it off.

Rafe grabbed your hand and pulled you along, leaving you no choice but to follow him. You walked in silence, other than the sound of your heart beating rapidly.

Rafe stopped at a small brick shed on the side of the house. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, pulling you in after. There were kayaks and paddleboards hanging on the walls and some old lifejackets littered the floor.

"Rafe-" you tried to start but he cut you off.

"Y/n, I seriously can't go one more minute without kissing you again."

Rafe looped his arm around your waist, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and landed his lips on yours.

For a moment, you tilted your face upwards and leaned your body into his before your senses came rushing back to you and you shoved him backwards off of you. Surprise registered on his face.

"Rafe. No. I can't do this." Your voice broke, panic coursed through your whole body. "God, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come here today or followed you here."

"Y/n." Rafe said but held your hand up warning him to say quiet.

"I have to go. I have to go," you repeated. "Tell Sarah I'm sorry I missed the fireworks. I know she'll be disappointed. I have to go."

You turned to leave but Rafe grabbed your wrist and his eyes locked with yours, his expression begging you to stay.

"I have a boyfriend." You blurted out. The weight of those four words settled on Rafe's face and you jerked your arm out of his grasp. You spun on your heel and walked out the shed and putting distance between you and the boy making your life so complicated.

You crossed the Cameron's yard, trying to gather yourself and slow your chaotic, unsteady breathing. You hurried down the long driveway, making it to the road without any tears slipping out of your eyes.

Rafe had tried to kiss you. He hadn't tried, he had kissed you. And you sorta kissed him back. No, not sorta. You kissed him back. But then you stopped. You pushed him away. You realized it was wrong. You didn't want to hurt Evan. You weren't gonna hurt Evan.

The fireworks began to explode behind you, large booms thundered across the sky, their big colors illuminating the night. You didn't dare turn around watch them. They reminded you too much of Rafe: the boy pulling your head and your heart in two different directions.

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#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #outer banks fanfiction #where it leads series #where it leads #obx fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron!high school #outer banks netflix

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like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

Text

Request: Birthdays (Demetri Volturi x Reader)

Alice’s instructions were simple. Pack a bag. Come to the Cullen’s house. You did and the chaos began.

The whole coven were leaving to a location they wouldn’t tell you and you were going with them. You thought maybe you’d get a hint at the airport. However, headphones were put on your head...and Alice covered your eyes every time the location came up.

By the time you landed, you were certain of one thing. You didn’t trust what was happening anymore. Your suspicions were confirmed. There were more voices you couldn’t quite place and then you were pushed and landed on what definitely had to be a talking rock. After that, you were sure you were going to die.

"Just trust me!" Alice sang, you could practically hear her grin. Her hands blocking your ability to see. "I do but-" you were cut off as you kicked something hard, a sharp pain erupting in your foot. "Ow!" You yelled out creating a rather loud echo. You slapped a hand over your mouth before gasping. "That's loud!" You whispered hurriedly. "Where the hell are we!?" "Trust me, (Y/N)!" Alice repeated with a grin you could almost hear it was so prominent. "I just went down a hole, there's a really big echo and now I've kicked something!" You cried in exasperation. "I'm sure you'll live." A male voice said. You halted immediately. "Who's that?" You asked. "I've heard that voice before." "Just be patient!" Alice whined, sending a pointing look to Alec. Although you didn't know that.

You held your hands out in front of you. "What are you doing now!?" Alice asked as you heard a booming laugh. "I can't see and you're making me walk into things!" You shot back. Your hands hit what you originally thought was a wall...until the wall had fabric...and arms. "What the-?' You patted at the fabric, which seemed to be a coat of sorts. You moved your hands to find shoulders. "That's a person!" You gasped, your hands rising to meet hair. "That person also looks like they may break your fingers if you keep touching them." Alice said uneasily and you yelped pulling your hands back. "Sorry!" You couldn't see Alec's glare as he brushed himself off.

"Why don't you lead the way...out of reach?" Alice offered to Alec who rolled his eyes and nodded to follow him. "We're almost there!" Alice sang quietly in your ear. "Id hope so, you nearly tackled me like four times at the airport so that I didn't know where we were going!" You huffed. "Not to mention bring shoved down a hole!" "You were taking too long! " Alice said simply, turning to look at Felix who grinned, satisfied that he was the one who had pushed you.

“So much walking- where are we going!?” You groaned. “Almost there.” Alice responded. Finally you were told to stop and turned. “Alright, we’re going to take our leave.” Alice smiled and you felt a rush of air behind you. “I want you to count to five and then open your eyes and go through the door in front of you.” Alice’s cold hands finally left your eyes and you counted to five.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a corridor, a long one. Everything looked expensive and unfamiliar. You stared at the brown door in front of you remembering you were to go through it. “I swear if this is bad...” You mumbled under your breath before opening the door. The sight made you drop your grip of the door.

You gasped. "Demetri." Demetri smiled at you, candle light reflecting upon his face. "I thought..." Demetri slowly nodded. "I know. I couldn't come to you but I didn't want to miss your birthday, especially your last. So if I couldn’t come to you, we figured why not bring you to me?" You couldn't help but laugh and he smiled, gesturing for you to come closer. "I'm terrified I'm about to mess something up." You admitted, looking at the candles places around the room. You couldn't lie, it made for a very romantic setting. "You won't." Demetri chuckled. "They're not even on the floor, darling."

Slowly you moved forward. "So I'm willing to bet that you’re exhausted." Demetri smiled knowingly. "A little bit, I want to spend time with you." Demetri wrapped his arms around you. "Oh you will, darling." He replied. "However, I do insist you get some rest." Slowly he unwrap an arm around you to unzip your jacket. "What's the plan here?" You breathed, very much receiving mixed signals. "Darling, I haven't seen you in four months, you're tired and I won't get you to myself tomorrow." Demetri began, his hands moving to cradle your face. "I want to hold you in my arms tonight and I can't promise I'll let go in the morning." You giggled and Demetri continued. "I don't care when you fall asleep, you're here and that's good enough for me." He pulled you into a soft kiss. As he pulled away you wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in whilst hold him tightly. Demetri seemed to approve as he was more than compliant, following suit. "I've missed you so much." You said into his neck. "I promise you, not as much as I missed you. Vampire and all." Demetri smirked. "Now, go and get ready for bed."

Demetri was already in the bed when you finished getting ready, his jacket removed as well as his shoes. Two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. He smiled at you softly, reaching out for you as you climbed into the bed. Almost instantly, you cuddled into him. Your head rested on his shoulder so you could look up at him. The covers brought up to your waist. “Wait, what’s happening tomorrow?” You asked. “Tomorrow night is a sort of ‘get together’ if you will. All of the Volturi, the guard, The Cullen’s and the receptionists will be attending. I suppose it’s also convenient it’s on the day of your birthday.” Demetri chuckled. “Could be a birthday party in some ways.” “Just to be clear, you didn’t throw me a birthday party right?” “No, I didn’t.” Demetri couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s why I couldn't come and see you but Aro, Marcus and Caius gave it some thought and suggested that you came here with the Cullen’s. It made sense considering your birthday was on the same day.” “I’ll need to thank them. That was very generous of them.” You said, your fingers interlocking with his. Demetri nodded before kissing you. “I look forward to a dance with you, my love.” He smirked and you sighed in mock defeat. “Oh but i already promised Alec all my dances.” You squealed when Demetri lightly tickled you. “Very funny.” “I suppose you can have one.” “Don’t test me, my love.” Demetri warned with a playful smile and you giggled.

Demetri was right, you couldn’t get a moment alone with him for even second. People wanted to know what you were wearing, when it was time to go eat. You only got a shower in peace that whole morning and afternoon. Even then Alice was poking her head through the bathroom door with anything that popped up into her mind. She wanted everything to be perfect but you felt she had to be reminded that it wasn’t her party. She was attending. Alice would simply smile are you, making you raise an eyebrow in question. She never explained, simply hurrying away to do something else.

That evening you caught sight of Jane in a beautiful black dress, you gasped audibly. You couldn’t stop yourself. Yourself and Jane hadn’t spoken much and the same went for her twin brother. The two kept to themselves mostly and it was difficult to endure a conversations over their piercing stares and short responses. Jane looked over at you, pausing from digging into a drawer on the opposite side of the room to you. “Jane! You look beautiful!” You said in awe. “Thank you.” She responded. Her tone quiet and innocent, a very misleading fact about Jane, there was nothing innocent about the blonde despite the tone of voice she had. Jane continued riffling through the drawer and Alec appeared. “Are you ready, sister?” “Alec, you look very handsome!” You smiled at him and he smirked slightly. “Thank you, little human. You’re looking very wonderful indeed.” You couldn’t help but blush. “Nothing compared to you lot.” You responded and his smirk widened. “Nonsense!” Alice said, entering the room. “I approved of your outfit myself.” “Alice i picked this myself.” You reminded her in confusion. “Yes and I approved of it!” She called back, going into the bathroom seemingly looking for a mirror. You sent Alec a helpless look who simply rolled his eyes at Alice, his smirk never faltering. “Okay, i’m ready.” Jane said finally, turning before you could see what it was she had retrieved. “Good.” Alec responded. “Aro is waiting on us.”

When you first entered the ballroom, you were actually rather intimidated. Some of the most beautiful people in the world were in the one room...with you. Edward was the first to elbow you lightly. You sent him a questioning look. “No more of that talk.” He replied pointedly. “You look beautiful.” You sighed. “You’re saying that out of pity.” “I’m not.” He said sharply. It wasn’t long before Demetri made his way towards you and the next hour had gone by quickly.

"Cara mia." Demetri smiled charmingly handing you the small glass of champagne. "Is the plan to get me drunk?" You smirked taking the drink from him. "Of course not." Demetri said amused. Alec smirked, rolling his eyes. "Don't drink it in the one gulp. Please." "I'm not drinking like that. Delicate sips and all that." You giggled in response before raising the glass to your lips.

You froze when a reflection glinted in your eyes briefly. Your eyes narrowed on your glass, pulling back to have a look. There, in the champagne, at the very bottom was a ring. It was silver, small diamonds outlining one big diamond in a rectangular shape. You looked over at Demetri, you heart beginning to race, barely able to acknowledge everyone stopping to watch the scene. "So perhaps I wasn't entirely clear." Demetri smiled. "Whilst birthdays become less important in the vampire world, I want this day to remain special forever. For a reason you could never forget." Your jaw dropped when Demetri got down on one knee, taking your free hand. "I know we can't technically get married but that isn't enough to stop me. We can still wear the rings and it'll be important to us. Everything else be damned. I'm still going to ask you. No matter your answer, I'll always love you. Someone as perfect as you needs to be cherished and I have adored every moment I could have with you. I hope we have an eternity more of those moments. I don't want to be away from you any longer and this is the best way I know how to show you how much I love you. So marry me, (Y/N). Let it be my honour and greatest wish to be your husband. Your mate. Let us never have to be apart again." Your eyes were full of tears threatening to fall. Shock still wracked you body but you cling to every word. Slowly you nodded your head. Demetri's eyes, widen slightly, challenging your response. You nodded even more frantically. "Yes." You managed out with a smile. The room burst into applause and cheers. He was standing in a heartbeat as you pulled him towards you, leaning your forehead against his before kissing him.

"That was a really subtle warning not to just chug the whole thing." You laughed through tears, turning to Alec. He smirked, raising his eyebrows with a nod. "I'd rather you wore the ring, not swallow it." Demetri chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Do I look a mess now?" You said through tears. "Never, my darling." Demetri kissed your forehead. You sniffled slightly, a smile still planted on your face. You fished out the ring. "It's beautiful." You said quietly in awe. "I couldn't imagine anything else for you, my love." Demetri pulled you close.

After a minute, you were approached by Aro, Marcus, Caius, Sulpicia and Athenodora. The wives clutching their husbands arms. Athenodora was the first to break away with a smile, her arms opening to wrap you in a hug. "Congratulations!" She smiled, giving you a light squeeze. "Thank you." You felt another wave of tears emerge but fought them back. "Congratulations, dear." Sulpicia said, much more composed but also stepping away from Aro to hug you much more briefly than Athenodora had. "Thank you." You responded. "Such joy!" Aro grinned. "A momentous occasion indeed." Caius agreed, a smile nowhere to be found but his tone of voice was smooth. "We look forward to seeing more of you in these walls." Marcus, clasped his hands. "We offer our congratulations, Demetri." Caius nodded, their attention turning to him. "Thank you, master." Demetri nodded. "Did everyone know you were going to do that?" You asked and Demetri chuckled nodding. "We did indeed." Caius nodded a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "We may have provided some assistance." Aro smirked. "Thank you so much." You couldn't help but smile. "No need to thank us." Marcus responded.

Athenodora looked to Caius expectantly who sighed. "Might my wife see the ring? She has been quite eager to see it." Caius said flatly and she tutted at him. "I've been desperate to see it!" "They don't even have it on yet, dear." Caius sighed again. "Oh hush!" Athenodora hurried towards you excitedly. "That's a good point, I should probably put this on." You laughed. "Oh Demetri, help the poor thing! They're shaking like a leaf!" Athenodora held sympathy in her eyes. "This has been such a exciting trip." You laughed as Demetri gently took the ring from you and sliding into your ring finger with ease. "Well would you look at that. A perfect fit." Demetri smirked, seemingly pleased with himself. "Let me see!" Athenodora said excitedly and you held out your hand to her.

She took it and stared in awe. "Oh, it's beautiful! Caius told me it was lovely but he didn't do it justice!" "My dear, I told you it was lovely because that's all that needed to be said." Caius responded. "Well, we'll leave you be." Aro smiled and Athenodora took her place back at Caius' side. "Enjoy the celebrations and congratulations again." "Thank you master." Demetri smiled with a nod.

It wasn't long before you were approached by a couple who you didn't recognise. A woman with copper curled hair was arm in arm with a blonde man. He was more blonde than Demetri, resembling Caius' hair colour although his was styled. "Congratulations, Demetri." The woman said as the blonde shook Demetri's hand. "Thank you. (Y/N), allow me to introduce you to Afton and Chelsea. I don't believe you've met them." "We've heard so much about you. May I?" Chelsea eyed your hand. "Simply breath-taking." Afton nodded, looking over Chelsea's shoulder and offering you a small smile. He seemed almost shy in comparison to the Chelsea. "Isn't it just? Absolutely beautiful." Chelsea looked at the ring adoringly. "I might just be jealous. Afton never got me a ring like this." "Don't be fooled, (Y/N)." Afton leaned in slightly. "If she wanted one she'd have it with a snap of the fingers. She knows that." You chuckled. The couple were clearly very much in love but gave off the impression that they had been together for a very long time. "Well right now, I'd love a dance." Chelsea batted her eyelashes at him and he smiled almost knowingly. "Come along then, my dear." She sent you a quick smile. "Enjoy your night!"

Finally, you were approached by Felix and the twins. "Well, my friend, you finally did it." Felix clapped Demetri in the back. "Bet your on top of the world right now." "Words cannot describe." Demetri replied, looking down at you lovingly. "We're very happy for you." Jane said, neither she or her brother showing any expression. "Thank you. I didn't see this coming." You said, eyes drifting to your ring. You still couldn't believe it was there. "Well it seems your lonely nights are coming to an end." Felix winked at you both and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Felix." Demetri warned. "I'm only joking friend. I'm excited to finally have my little human friend with us more permanently." "They won't be human for much longer but...I understand the sentiment." Jane said. "Regardless, I'm sure it'll be a pleasure having you with us." Alec said flatly. You caught on quickly that the twins were really trying to be nice. You appreciated their efforts and welcomed them with kindness.

Once they had left you were immediately pulled into a hug by Alice who squealed in your ear. "Congrats! I'm so happy for you!" "Alice, you've really outdone yourself." You squeezed her tightly. "I always rise to the challenge." She grinned. "That was beautiful, Demetri." Esme smiled, her arms linked with Carlisle's. "I meant every word. I must thank you. Your family helped make this a very special day." "Do I get to plan the wedding!?" Alice asked excitedly. "Alice, you've shown a tremendous amount of progress seeing that you actually asked this time but I've barely had the ring on for an hour." You smiled. "It was wonderful. You're both a wonderful couple and we couldn't be happier for you." Carlisle smiled.

After more talking, Demetri decided to pull you in for a dance. Each of his arms wrapped around your waist as your looped around his neck, the two of you swaying slowly. "You really surprised me." You smiled. "In a good way or a bad way?" Demetri asked. "Good. I was confused when you said vampires don't really care about birthdays and you all decided to celebrate mine -sort of- but..." You trailed off, your smile widening. "Perhaps you've realised why this came to be now?" Demetri raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have to go through all this bother for me." "I do and it wasn't a bother. The Volturi had an excuse to bond with one another and I got to be traditional as I could. I gathered my coven, the Cullen's and proposed. If anything, I'd wish I would have done more. Although I know you like small and simple." "I never thought I'd be getting engaged on my birthday." You cracked a small smile. "Well, I didn't want this day to stop being important. Vampires have so many birthdays that it gets tedious and boring. Most of us lose count of how many birthdays we've had but I figured there was a way to over come that. If it were to ever no longer be your birthday then it would be-" You gasped. "Our anniversary." Demetri nodded with a warm smile. "Although I really don’t know if a wedding could happen, cara mia. Not in a way that humans would." You shook your head. "It doesn't matter. You said it yourself, we can wear rings and we'll know- that's what matters. I don't need the wedding because I'll instead have an eternity with you." "I'm so lucky to have you." Demetri said quietly. "Not as lucky as I am to have you." You responded. "Not possible, my love." Demetri said before moving in for a kiss.

#request #twilight #volturi #the volturi #demetri volturi #reader #the cullens #one shot #oneshot

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sunshineseung · 3 years

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Dominant Stray Kids

Chan: simultaneously soft and rough. he’s the sweetest man in the world when you’re good! he’ll worship your body for hours and make you cum until you can’t anymore. he loves holding you close and praising you and making you feel as good as possible, even if it isn’t in a sexual way. however, when you’re bad... may god have mercy on our soul. chris is hard to make angry, and it takes a lot of rule breaking to make him genuinely mad, so when you get him past his breaking point, there’s no holding back. he loves using toys and retrains on you and deny you orgasm after orgasm until you’re a sobbing, begging mess. he dirty talks a lot, so expect a lot of pet names and teasing like “aw, does my pretty little slut want to cum? maybe they should have thought of that before they disobeyed me.” although the punishments can be rough, the aftercare is BEYOND AMAZING!!! actual king of aftercare. super reassuring! he’s constantly reminding you that he loves you, especially after a particularly hard punishment. you’re the best thing in his life, so he would never want to make you uncomfortable. the second you say the safe word, he’s running a bath, getting you water, cleaning you up, and taking care of you. he’s an absolute angel. 🐺 favorite names: daddy, master, sir, chris

Minho: you don’t even have to say a word for this man to run you into the ground. he’s the definition of a sadist, and although he can still be super caring, he can also be an absolute demon. expect whips, floggers, paddles, jfc even a chastity belt if you’re up for it. loves seeing his marks on you, it drives him insane! he wants everyone to know that you are his, his, and only his. very protective and possessive, especially around his other members. if one of the members get a little too friendly with you, he’s quick to lay a hand on your thigh and give them a dirty look. sometimes he likes to rail you in the dorm while the other members are in the living room so they can all hear how easily undone you become from his touch. he degrades you a lot, but he also likes to lace it with praise; “pretty slut” and “dumb baby” are his go-to names for you. he loves when you’re so fucked out that you can hardly speak. he isn’t that into orgasm denial, so I hope you’re ready to cum a lot, because he won’t stop until you say so. he loves being messy, so spitting on you and covering your face in spit or his cum is fair game. he’ll also make you dress up like a cat, and please don’t question why he likes it so much. within a month, you’ll own plenty of collars and ears and tails and pretty stockings and lingerie. he loves to give you gifts and make you happy. he takes aftercare very seriously, so expect him to gently massage lotion into all your bruises from his impact play. overall he’s rough and giving, so thank him often, or he’ll just punish you harder. 🐱 favorite names: master, mister, god, king, owner

Changbin: super loving, and he loves loving you!!! even if you’re bratty, he doesn’t like to punish you much other than a spanking every once and a while. he’d much rather have you be obedient so he can praise you and reward you. although he doesn’t like to punish you, he loves to edge you for hours and allow you to have one intense orgasm for him. he loves having his hands all over you, and vice versa. he’ll worship your body, especially your chest, and spend hours just kissing you and playing with your body. if you’re smaller than him, he will remind you every chance he gets. “my pretty little baby,” “so tiny and good for me,” “you look so cute under me.” he also likes to ask you for praise, like asking how he’s doing. of course, even if you can hardly talk, you’re quick to reassure him and praise him, which makes his head spin. he doesn’t set up too many rules, because he still likes to allow you to be free, but he is very hands-on and will cling to you 24/7, mostly in public or around his members. he loves showing you off to other people and just praising you even if you’re not physically with him. he loves spooning you and slowly fucking you, his big arms wrapped around you and holding you as close to him as possible. you’re all he thinks about, so expect him to be very needy, especially after long days. he’s so nice and gentle but he could be so strong and powerful, and he loves having a threatening aura to everyone else and looking super intimidating while you know he’s just a big softie. 🐰 favorite names: binnie, daddy, sweetheart, love

Hyunjin: so bullshit dom. he doesn’t dirty talk that much (shockingly), but his eyes tell you everything you need to know. He likes to save his voice for when he really needs to say something, which is usually degrading. “Stupid little cumdump. Can’t think of anything other than my cock, huh?” Super dramatic when you misbehave too, like “oh, was my baby too fucking needy to wait for me to get home? You’re gonna pay for that. Every orgasm you had while I was gone is gonna be how many times I cum down your pretty little throat.” He likes restraining you with harsh ropes, spitting on you, and smacking you, but he doesn’t like impact play with toys. He will however use a vibrator on you and edge you for ever until you realize you’re not cumming at all tonight. Just be good and he’ll reward you with... a harsh railing that he’d give you if he were punishing you... okay so maybe he likes brats lol, but he has very little patience, so when he’s ready, you better be ready too. Aftercare isn’t entirely minimal, but it’s usually just a shower where he washes you and takes care of any marks that might spring up. He likes to treat you like you’re less than him although in reality he thinks anything but. Calling him prince while he treats you like a whore is big for him. He also is somewhat into slavery, so prepare for him to get you a slave ring. 🦙 favorite names: master, mr. hwang, sir, prince, your highness, owner

Jisung: teasing dom! He’s another one that likes to edge you for hours, but he also likes to overstimulate you until you’re begging for him to cum so it can end (although he can go multiple rounds too). He’ll lightly degrade you, but mostly it’s praise. He spends a long time on foreplay, oral, and making out just to make sure you feel good. He loves marking you in ways only you and him can see, so he never leaves hickies on your neck. He also loves to baby you, especially if you’re younger or smaller than him. He treats you very well, but if he’s had a rough day, he really needs you to give him head and fuck him until he tells you to stop. He likes when you’re on top but he still has full control by holding your hips or telling you exactly what to do. Sometimes he just comes into your room, pulls out his cock, and expects you to suck him off even if he’s not hard. He doesn’t like to punish you, and he doesn’t set up rules either. He just likes telling you how good you taste or how pretty you look when you’re a wreck for him. He can get shy sometimes, so please reassure him that what he’s doing to you is okay, because he thinks he takes it too far a lot. He’s super loving and probably the softest dom out of the group. 🐹 favorite names: sung, babe, sweetheart, honey, sexy

Felix: I really don’t see lix as a dom but! If I must... Lix is very soft and giving, but he isn’t against getting rough with you. He can easily mix being really rough and being soft at the same time. He loves spanking you with paddles while calling you a good [whatever] and holding you close to him, probably with you sitting up on his lap. He loves whispering in your ear with his deep voice because it always makes you shiver and get insanely horny. He doesn’t punish, but he does like impact play. He really enjoys praising you as much as possible, so don’t expect a lot of degrading. He just wants to be nice to you! He likes dressing you up like a little fashion doll and fucking you in pretty clothes, especially lingerie or stockings. Felix likes being goofy during sex sometimes too! So if he messes up or does something awkward, expect to laugh it out and continue the scene. He likes pet play and age play id imagine, so he’ll buy you little kitty ears or bunny ears and a tail and a collar, but he might also buy you more childish clothes. He loves to take care of you even if you’re older than him, and he loves to cuddle you. As much as he loves cuddles, he also has a very high sex drive, so he gets hard within like a minute of spooning. Aftercare is a must for Felix, becuase honestly, he needs it too! He loves taking baths with you and holding you close. He’s literally the sweetest boy ever, so please let him treat you well. 🐥 favorite names: lixie, master, daddy, owner

Seungmin: woah, okay. okay. okay. Let me break it down for you: he’s such a strict and mean dom, but it’s fucking great. He isn’t my ult bias for nothing. He loves impact play, tying you up, teasing you, degrading you, punishing you, and just... dominating you. He loves feeling in power. He likes to plan during the day so he knows what he’s gonna do to you that night. He won’t even touch you, he’ll just talk to you and whisper to you while you’re tied up to make you weak, and then he’ll start to really play with you. He will tease you, whisper threats, and call you pet names all in public. Although he’s strict, he’s also very fair. If you’re good, he’ll reward you and do whatever you want to do. If you’re bad, you’re in for a long night, or even a long week of he doesn’t let you cum for that long. He has a massive collection of toys: vibrators, impact toys, plugs, costumes, pet accessories, everything! Just do exactly what he tells you to do, and he’s the nicest dom ever. Although, deep down, he likes brats. He likes punishing you and making you cry. He loves watching you unravel under him and go so far into sub space that you can’t talk. As much as he loves that, he is also very strict about safe words. He likes using colors (red, yellow, green) as the safe word, and he’ll often ask you “color?” just to check up. He also sets non-verbal safe “words”which is usually snapping or tapping. he’s researched a lot about being dominant because he wants you to have the best experience possible. For him, it’s all for you. He just wants you to be happy. 🐶 favorite names: daddy, master, sir, mister, king, owner

Jeongin: awww bb innie he’s so sweet... but sometimes he can be a lil mean ;( he’s super nice to and he loves rewarding you, but he can be a little selfish and tell you to suck him off when he’s a little tired or stressed. He isn’t a textbook definition of a dominant in any way, but the more you tell him about what you like, he’s very willing to try new things with you. He’s very scared of hurting you or injuring you, so don’t expect much impact play. He does like you treating him as his superior though because he’s babied so much by so many people around him. Being able to baby you and take care of you is a nice change of pace for him! He likes using you as a doll sometimes, and he orders you around a lot (totally with your consent of course!) and he also loves to make you unravel under him. He adores when you get needy and clingy so much, and even more than that, he loves when you beg for him to play with you. He could listen to you beg forever. When you get super whiny, he thinks it’s so cute and it melts his heart every time. On the other hand, when he gets really worked up, he can degrade you a little bit. He gets very impatient and just wants to cum so fucking bad, that sometimes degrading phrases sneak past his lips. “Ah, cmon my dumb little baby, make me cum.” But the second he finishes and realizes what he said, he appologizes and offers to make you feel better with a shower or bath or even just cuddles. He just think you’re his entire world, so he wants to take care of you as much as possible. 🦊 favorite names: jeonginnie, oppa, babe, baby

part 1 of this: submissive stray kids

#skz smut #stray kids smut

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this!

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

“Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance. Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

“How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly. “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #absolutely wild that any of you have been with me since IMIUTY tbh #i was so unsure about posting that sldjslkds #and now i just casually chuck out 9k words of filth #also #a lot of chastity stuff is about wearing them constantly #which is hot but not realistic #because if you dont clean them and give your body time to breathe #it can lead to UTIs and stuff #so if your gonna play with a belt and you have a p****#make sure to take it off intermittently #anyway #can someone please lock me in a belt and idk maybe mock me when i start to beg

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: I know I said this update wouldn’t be written, but I decided to fix the little drabble I already had written and... It’s not as bad as I thought and now I’m moderately happy with it. Anyway... We’re entering angst city babey so please put on your seatbelts because we are SOARING! || W.C. 1.8K

prev // part 18 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

After sending his last text to you, Namjoon is only slightly surprised when he sees your caller ID flashing on his phone screen. When he looks at the time, he notices that it had taken you less than a minute for you to call him, no doubt ready to scream your head off at his outrageous suggestion. Admittedly, he knows that his idea might be a little outside of your comfort zone, but he believes you can do it. If his people reading skills are even remotely average, then he’s sure that it’ll work if you just—

“KIM NAMJOON! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME UP WITH THAT CONCLUSION?” Your voice is loud enough to burst an eardrum, but luckily, Namjoon had already expected your volume and had held his phone an arm away. In his nine-ish days of knowing you, he’s somewhat accustomed to your theatrics, though you’re still no match for Hoseok’s excited shrieks.

“Hello Y/N,” Namjoon hums, sitting up groggily from his bed. It’s a bit too early to go to sleep, but he supposes that your panicked screams are going to keep him up a little bit longer. “I feel as though you’re overreacting a little.”

“A little?” You scoff loudly, and Namjoon can imagine you pacing circles in your room. You did always seem a little fidgety when you two went out together. “Namjoon, you can’t just expect me to go on a date with Jungkook—“

“Why not? You guys go out all the time, don’t you?” Namjoon points out, smiling slightly at your exasperated huffs.

“Well, that’s different! Those were platonic hangouts! Just bros being bros!”

“Then change the context a little bit. You don’t have to ask him to be your boyfriend just to go on a date.”

“Namjoon, I know you’re a smart man but I don’t think your math skills are all that great,” you say brusquely. “That doesn’t add up! If I ask him on a date, then he’ll know I’m into him and—“

“And that’s a bad thing?” Namjoon interrupts, raising a brow. “Y/N, we both know you’re being a little unreasonable right now.”

You splutter for a moment, but you find that you’re unable to retort. Namjoon smirks, continuing, “Y/N, I know you’re worried that Jungkook might get swept away now that he’s quote-unquote ‘single.’ I get it. But if you’re not going do anything about it and suffer in silence, then he’s definitely going to leave. Besides, I already told you that he probably likes you back, judging from how jealous he got. You could probably even ask your friends and they’d tell you the same.”

You snort. “God, I’d rather die than talk about… love stuff with those freaks I call friends,” you cough out a laugh, muffling the sound before it can continue. Namjoon knows you’re a bit conscious of your “unflattering” snorts, but he just finds them cute. A lot of the things you don’t like about yourself are cute in Namjoon’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine going to any of them about this… They’d just bully me and make me do something I don’t want to do!”

“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing right now?” Namjoon laughs, giggling even harder when he hears your tired groan.

“Yeah, but you’re nice. Unlike those meanies,” you say. Namjoon hates to admit it, but he does appreciate being special to you, even if it’s over something trivial like this.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Namjoon starts. He can hear you humming in agreement, but he doesn’t stop there. “But, it is a suggestion. Seeing as how you don’t have any other idea how to solve this mess, I’d say go for it. What’s the worse thing that can happen?”

“Um? I get rejected? Hello?”

“You don’t have to let him know it’s a date, you know.”

“What do you mean? Namjoon, you should stop speaking in riddles because I honestly don’t have enough brain cells for this, clearly.”

Namjoon sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What if you fake date him?” When you don’t reply immediately, Namjoon is quick to keep talking. “Not that I’m asking you to stop fake dating me! What I’m trying to say is… Maybe try to rekindle the rumor that you and Jungkook are dating? He doesn’t have to know it’s a date, so long as everyone else thinks that you two are.”

“I… I guess?” You sound unsure, though Namjoon admits it’s kind of a long shot to begin with, not when you wouldn’t know the last thing about being subtle. He kind of wants to throttle you, in a gentle way. It’s honestly frustrating to see you like this, and he just wishes he could… Make the problem go away.

That would be easy. If Y/N just stopped pining after Jungkook, then he could just come in and—

His thoughts skid to a halt, nearly slapping himself to keep from going down that road again. Look at him, trying to help you with your mess when even he can’t get a handle on his own emotions. What is going on inside my head, he thinks sadly to himself.

“Listen, it’ll be really easy! All you have to do is text him and say, ‘Hey, wanna go have dinner with me tomorrow?’ but bring him somewhere nicer, perhaps? Then take a photo of him all dressed up and looking boyfriend-y and post it on Instagram. I’m sure that’ll shut people up.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jungkook’s definition of ‘dressing up’ is combat boots, a hoodie, and his god-awful backpack the size of Africa. He looks like a nerd.”

“I mean, you kinda dress alike…” Namjoon mutters, and he’s thankful that you don’t hear his slight slip-up. He clears his throat. “A-anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine? I think it would be more suspicious if he wore a suit and tie or something. So long as you guys look cozy and comfy together, I’m sure people will take the hint. If worse comes to worst, I can maybe slip something to Johnny and he can retract his statement or something.”

“I hope to god that isn’t the case,” you say. Namjoon nods, before realizing you can’t even see him.

“Right. Well, I think everything should work out perfectly. Just ask him to some popular couples restaurant. Maybe the nice Italian place in Hongdae? Something more romantic, not necessarily fancy.”

There’s a pause on your end for a moment causing Namjoon to sweat a little, wondering if he might be overstepping. He does genuinely want to help you, though he hopes he isn’t actually weirding you out somehow. He’s not adept at handling love problems as much as he’s trying to appear to be, since he’s mostly using the romance novels he had read during his teen years as his sole source of reference. This is what I get for not dating for so long, Namjoon thinks, grimacing.

“Namjoon.” You break the silence, your voice quieter than before. Namjoon has to strain his ears a little, pursing his lips as he waits for your response. “Are you…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “Am I?”

Namjoon hears you hesitate, stuttering syllables over his phone speaker like you aren’t quite sure how to ask your question. “Do you remember when I asked you a few days ago if you were sure you don’t actually have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I don’t know how to say this without being weird, but I just want to say you’re great. Like,” you huff out a laugh, incredulous. “You’re just… The perfect package? You’re so kind and so sweet and it’s just? Almost mysterious how you don’t have someone special to call your own yet.”

Namjoon smiles wryly to himself, head bowed as he stares at his wrinkled bedsheets. “I suppose other people don’t feel the same way.” He tries forcing out a laugh, but it sounds a little strangled. His chest feels tight, strangely. Hopefully, you don’t notice.

“No, I highly doubt that! You’re literally the perfect guy. Any person would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” You sound almost indignant, like you can’t imagine anyone ever thinking badly about him. He almost wants to laugh, but he tightens his hands into fists instead, digging his nails into his palms and leaving crescents in their wake.

“Well then… I guess that makes you lucky to have me, then?” Namjoon nearly slaps his hands to his mouth, a cold tingle of embarrassment mixed with fear running down his spine. Did he really just say that— “What I mean is, erm…”

“N-no, I get you.” You’re giggling, but—is he imagining it?—you sound a little nervous to his ears. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine you blushing, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth. “I guess I am lucky to be your fake girlfriend, huh? Even for just a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out the word, guilt washing over him like waves. Here he is, feeling things that he shouldn’t be, over a girl who was never his to begin with. There are seedlings in his chest, barely anything to write home about. But he knows—a gardener can see the garden even before the flowers have bloomed. Each day he spends with you is another day they get a chance to grow, and he’s afraid he’ll soon be overrun, unable to handle the forest that is bound to erupt. “Just a few weeks,” he echoes, unable to completely hide the sadness from his words.

“I guess I am just being melodramatic about everything, huh?” you say. It takes a moment for Namjoon to even remember what the two of you had been talking about, so caught up in his thoughts that he has to pinch himself back to reality.

“Think of it as a funny story to tell your grandkids,” Namjoon says.

You laugh, and Namjoon can feel a seedling sprout its first leaf. “Yeah. Definitely. God, I can’t even begin to think about kids… Not when I can’t even ask him out on a fucking date.”

“You can do it, Y/N.” Namjoon whispers. He flops back down onto his bed, eyes half-closed as he stares at his cracked ceiling. If he breathes quietly enough, he can hear the sounds of Seoul outside his windowpane. If he stops breathing altogether, he might be able to hear you across the city, your socked feet padding towards your bed, curling up into your own blanket.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Really.”

For what? Namjoon leaves that part unspoken. “You’re welcome,” he says instead. He drops the call, feeling a little emptier than before.

#bangtanarmynet #bts social media au #bts scenarios #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts #jungkook scenarios #namjoon scenarios #jungkook fake texts #namjoon fake texts #jungkook fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #bangtan

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mochees · 3 years

Text

"𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗜𝗜"

-> headcanons, how they tell you they love you for the first time, part two!

characters: sakusa, iwaizumi, x fem!reader

warnings: fem reader, ✨healthy relationships✨, oikawa being oikawa

wc: 3.6K

a/n: WOAH okay uh did NOT expect that last set to be that popular,,,, y'all thirsty for love huh? me too anyway i thought id do a part two since i honestly really enjoyed writing the first set and my brain is vibrating with ✨thoughts✨ and seeing how much love it got really made me feel how i haven't felt in so long, so thank you! maybe ill turn this into a series so lemme know if u wanna see someone specific👀👀😏 also sorry for like posting and then dipping again lmao thats just my social media brand i have the attention span of a fucking worm

read part 1 here!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

okok i know its like common for sakusa to be shown as not interested in PDA (in private or public) unless hes feeling "needy"

BUT i believe that after a few weeks, maybe months if he's still unsure, he would definitely be much more comfortable with PDA

like, if its been a long time and your both serious about it and not just in a relationship to be in a relationship he starts to notice your routine

he notices the changes you make so that he's comfortable and so that you can be close to him without him being worried about icky yicky germy wormys (someone take away my thought privileges)

so now that he knows that you take care of your hygiene and exactly what you do for it, slowly he's wrapping an arm around you in 30° heat while you're both sweating

slowly he's "forgetting" his mask in the car for dates

slowly, but surely, he understands that a little bit of exposure, isn't a bad thing.

"kiyoomi?" your voice brought sakusa's eyes to yours where he could see the concern behind them.

"are you okay y/n?"

you'd decided, after three weeks of intense training and barely seeing your boyfriend, that you wanted just one day and one night with him. just the two of you, you know he'd never admit it, but he needed a break.

after atsumu decided to try out some new plays that didn't start off to well, sakusa had been silently groaning everytime he had to reach for something. he was excellent at making sure he wasn't overworking himself, and he wasn't, its just that the human body is an absolute wonder, and not in a good way. sometimes things that should have mildly injured you, left you with a tiny scrape, or a bruise or a very quick-to-fade red mark, and sometimes you drop a phone on your face and break your fucking jaw.

you offer him a gentle smile that completely washes away the concern in your eyes.

"im fine omi! but you," you reach your hands up to rest on both sides of his face turning his head side to side, studying it intensly.

"you're looking a little pale. and possibly grey."

"how do you mean y/n-chan?"

for such an intelligent man sometimes he really could be a himbo.

"i mean that i think you might be sick, baby."

sakusa stared blankly at you, as if he couldn't fathom the possibility of 'himself, sick?'

"omi? kiyoomi!" you nabbed his attention, "i think you're sick, and we best go home."

"but-" he started, but you were quick to cut him off knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"kiyoomi, it's inevitable. even if you were the worlds most decked out with ppe, and the worlds leading force in hygeine, you'd still end up catching a cold at least once. that's just how the world works baby. and don't worry about the date, all i want is to spend some time with you."

you ended up practically dragging your sad little puppy of a boyfriend back up the complex stairs and into his unit before settling him on the couch and getting to work.

"ill get you some water, you just sit here and relax. i don't want to think about what would happen if those dumbasses didnt have you there next week, bokuto and hinata would probably crack their skulls!" your attempt at a little light hearted humour helped sakusa forget for a moment, but he was quick to go back to not understanding how he was sick.

"thank you." he took the glass from your hand and rested it between his legs, when he noticed the rubber gloves you had clutched at your side. he knew what they were for, those were his cleaning gloves.

"what are you doing? you can't stay you'll..." he paused. "you'll get sick too."

"i'll be fine omi-omi! you just relax and drink lots of water, ill take care of this." you turned towards the wall with a soft smile before muttering, "ill take care of you."

sakusa watched you clean, the bucket full of diluted bleach, the duster, a cloth, and his cleaning gloves. he loved the way that they were too big for you, the way you kept having to pull them up every so often to keep them on. he loved the way that everytime he finished his glass of water, you were right there to fill it back up.

you don't even remember seeing, or hearing him lift himself from his spot on the couch and make his way over to where you were humming and covering the counters in the diluted solution. you felt a pair of big arms wrap around you, a chin on your shoulder and a kiss on your cheek.

"thank you, y/n. i love you."

thank god he caught a cold, or he might never have realized just how lucky he was.

Iwaizumi Hajime

family man

is a family man but not just ANY family man

yes, it's important to him that you like and respect his parents and vice versa

but its just slightly more important to him that you get along with his friends, his found family because im a SUCKER for the classic lilo n stitch trope

he knows that many people say that its his life and he doesn't need anyones approval etc.

but iwaizumi believes different, he believes that he doesn't need approval in the literal sense but rather approval through watching you interact with his friends and his family and how you do your best to learn about them and make time for them, even though you dont have to

and he thinks it's absolutely enthralling

the way your eyes light up when you see that book his mom has been talking about wanting to read and picking it up with no hesitation

how you're able to almost flawlessly keep up with issei and takahiro's antics while also making sure they don't go too far, something even iwaizumi struggles with

and most importantly, how effortlessly you connect with his childhood best friend.

there were many things that Iwaizumi Hajime enjoyed, volleyball, athletics, godzilla of course, spending time with three dumbasses (but he’ll never admit that) and a little while ago, he added you to that list.

you were so effortlessly able to connect with his team, his friends, and his family but most importantly, the way you were able to connect with Oikawa brought a smile to his face.

“oh, iwa-chan~, what are you admiring?” there he went again, Iwa thought, Tohru Oikawa’s dumb smirk and hyper awareness of his team, both on and off court. how he wated to head-butt him in the face. but, he showed restraint. after all, he wouldn’t want loserkawa to use you as a human shield from his head. so, he ignored the urge. but it passed as soon as he saw tohrus arm arond your shoulders, crossed feet and leaning on you ever so slightly while he took a few occasional swigs from his water.

and just like that, the incredible restraint vanished like morning mist.

you could practically see the steam coming off of his hot skin, and the vein popping out of his forehead, when you noticed what had him so heated. “trashykawa get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

“excuse me!” he pouted, “my hands are clean and tailored! just like any responsible setters would be!” he stuck his lip out farther and gave you his irresistable puppy-dog eyes. “y/n-chan, i’m not filthy! am i?” he whined.

and, as the word suggests, his look was truly irresistable and you stumbled over your words. “n-no! of course not tohru!”

“see, iwa-chan! y-n thinks i’m squeaky clean!” his dumb smirk appeared again, and rather than continue with flirtykawas obvious games, Iwa opted for the less violen approach.

“don’t flatter yourself, dirtykawa. she’s just being nice.” he growled. “I’m done for the day, i have a project due. y-n.” he offered his hand to you like the gentleman he is not forcing you to take it, but the look in his eyes told you that he wanted you too.

“see you later, tohru!” you gave him a quick hug and intertwined your fingers with iwa’s.

now, technically, girls aren’t allowed in the boys locker room but since it’s after hours and just you and iwaizumi no one cared. to be fair though, literally no one knew except the team so, whatever you didn’t complain you got to watch yout ultra ripped boyfriend change. quality time. you thought, when you noticed him mid-change with his shirt over his head, resting on his arms. as any good girlfriend would, despite the devil on your shoulder, you came up behind him placing your hands on his seriously broad shoulders. taking notice of the tension, you started to work at the muscles. your care was quickly rewarded with a quiet sigh, and relaxed shoulders.

“hajime?” you continued rubbing at the tight fibers, “are you alright? you’re usually the one telling me im holding too much tension.” you giggled and he turned to face you placing one hand against the side of your face.

“hajime?” it came out shaky and worried.

“i’m okay,” he smiled “it’s just,” hesitation. he was never one to hesitate.

“i know i have no right to be but seeing oikawa so clingy with you it just, i dont know, it really gets to me i guess? he, just, he gets all the girls, all the attention, and i don’t want to-” you stopped him.

“sweetheart, it’s okay to be jealous or upset i’m not going to be angry, you have a right to your feelings. I understand how you feel, i never mean to flirt with him, if i ever have, i mean i don’t know, you know how bad of a flirt i am,” he chuckles at that. “it’s just that i know how important he is to you and you are so, so important to me and i want to be able to understand whats important to you, so you never have to choose between us, because that wouldn’t be fair. i love you, hajime iwaizumi, and everything about you.”

you expected him to be shocked, hell, he thought he would be shocked when or if you said it, but he wasn’t. and that’s exactly how he knew what to say next.

“i love you too, y/n l/n.” pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

“geez, it only took you two a century and forever.” someone snarked.

hajime chucked a towel at him “get out assykawa!” and he did, he bolted through the door laughing like the demon matchmaker he thought he was.

do not repost, copy, or claim.

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#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu headcanons #iwazuimi #iwaizumi x y/n #hajime iwaizumi #iwa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #hq iwaizumi #hq headcanons #hq anime #hq sakusa #hq fanfic

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bulletproofscales · 3 years

Text

the realest of selves

this is the namkook fic i told yall i was working on, the birthday friend already recived it so i thougth id post it! its not feederism and its very fluffy. hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723872/chapters/70426767

9/9 chapters 6.4 words

tags: established relationship, misunderstandings, fluff, happy ending

the one where jungkook falls in love again through namjoon’s poems, without knowing its him

Moma Muji.

That's the brand of the notebook Jungkook has in his hands… or, hand actually. It's rather small.

Must be passport sized.

He doesn’t own one of these.

He fumbles with it curiously. No, Jungkook doesn’t pick random objects he finds laying around; his mother raised him right.

But this wasn’t just any random object, this notebook had been left abandoned at Jungkook’s favorite desk in the college library. Specifically perfect because nobody used it: desk free of bumps from the scribbles or from people who wrote with too much force, minimal amount of gum stuck beneath it (He aspired for zero, but his dreams had been crushed pretty early on to his college life). The positioning was perfect too, far enough that the library’s wifi didn’t reach it, which was practically useless with the amount of work covered students plaguing the place constantly; but if he needed too, he could connect to the wifi from the classrooms nearby (And Jungkook went to the library at night time so… no classes happening at all)

It's the perfect desk and if something was left forgotten here, then it means it isn’t his anymore.

Which means he has the right to investigate.

The ragged, leather like texture feels expensive against his fingers. If he had to name the color, it would be a slightly darker version of a persian green; it's pretty. Jungkook can’t imagine someone using this for any academic purposes, given the size. He keeps playing around with it in his hands, hesitant.

It is one thing to pick up a stranger’s notebook on the desk, but to open it? It's a completely different violation of privacy. And he said it before: his mother raised him right.

Muji is an artsy brand right? These types of stationary notebooks probably have an information slot where he can find information; a name at least. Something to make hipsters who buy Muji, feel like their notebook is more special and personalized.

If he wants to find the owner he has to open it, doesn’t he?

No. Jungkook could simply deliver it to the librarian and let the owner look for it themselves.

Curiosity is killing him, though. To the point he was already opening the notebook even before he finished that thought. Eyes wide and fingers eager as he leans forward to find what he is looking for.

This notebook belongs to:

the Real Me

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This person is more hipster than Jungkook had even prepared himself to.

That tells him… absolutely nothing.

Hope you’re happy, Jungkook thinks to himself, directing it to the random hipster stranger.

As spiteful as he is of this infuriating halt that was brought to his detective adventure, he has to admit, the vulnerability of the stranger’s answer did absolutely nothing to calm his curiosity.

There's a few moments of quiet, just Jungkook and the first page staring at one another, as if daring him to look further, to sink deeper into the real authentic version of someone he has never even met.

I promise I won’t judge. He thinks apologetically as he flips the page.

In the blood you shed in the winter i was born red

Plum blossom in the snow:

Camellia,

Daffodil

Yeah, yeah, you can call me whatever you want

Listen up, winter you’ve bloomed me

Now I’m going to burn my branches blue

06/01/20

He gasps, as if Jeongguk had been holding his breath the entire time while reading it.

Moma Muji, passport size.

He looked it up when he got back to his dorm. It is in fact passport sized, the same exact measurements as a passport: 4.92 x 3.36 inches. How funny is that?

Jungkook had intended to continue reading in the library. But after...that, a feeling took over him that he was opening in a place far too public for the realest self of the (apparently) poet.

A poet…

There's a dreamy sigh that leaves his lips.

Anyways! The point is he took the notebook to his dorm and is now preparing himself to read more of it; from the safety of the locked door.

I’m real good, but a little uncomfortable

I’m still not sure if I’m a dog or a pig or what else

But then other people put a pearl necklace on me

So much blabbering

One says ‘run’ another says ‘stop’

This one says `look at the forest`

That one says ‘look at the wildflower’

My shadow, I wrote and called it ‘hesitation’

So they really are a poet.

In the back of Jungkook’s head he had expected for that first one to just be a silly quote this person added to the beginning of their notebook; maybe from a song from a band that they brag about listening to before it was popular.

But it's not…. this person is a poet…

This person is a romantic . The thought comes with a warmth that spreads across his cheeks.

It's obvious, these are romance poems. The first one, speaking about falling in love in the winter, about how delicate the poet’s significant other makes them feel; as delicate as these winter blooming flowers, comparing himself to a plant that burns under their love even during the winter. Love is getting them through the cold.

The second poem, however, is a lot less optimistic. Clearly the poet is battling their own feelings of inadequacy with the flattering words of their partner. They think of themself as a pig or a dog while they’re being treated with love. Different directions and orders are being directed to the poet are the contradicting opinions of themself: the ones they hear of their own and the ones from their partner.

So they’re probably in a relationship , he thinks with a little apprehension.

Not that it matters to Jungkook what this literal stranger is doing with their romantic life. He has to remind himself that, given that just the two poems had been able to give Jungkook a sensation of… odd familiarity; as if he knows this person already. It seemed as if with those poems he had gotten a glimpse of the poet’s two sides.

Obviously, the poems already showed two sides regarding the theme of love: safety and doubt. But aside from that, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way of expressing these sides: while the first poem was melodic and metaphorical, the second one held a language that sounded just a lot more accessible and down to earth.

This person must have thought about this relationship a lot.

It doesn’t matter, and it most certainly doesn’t affect him; so Jungkook shuts the notebook closed. He’ll just go about his day.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches.

Why does Jungkook remember the exact size?

Hell, why is he thinking about that notebook at all?!

Jungkook had rushed out, stumbling into his running shoes and beanie. Joonie had invited him to go out for a run even though they’re well into winter. And Jungkook… he is smitten enough to say yes.

But, nobody can blame him. He always has so much fun when he is with Namjoon… Or well, he tends to have fun, when his mind isn’t keeping him distracted with useless things!

Useless things like the way Namjoon’s route goes by a huge Camellia bush.

Yeah yeah call me whatever you want

Would Joon like it if he called him Camellia? Would his branches burn blue with love?

“Jungkook-ah, you’ll trip if you keep running that deep into your head, baby.” His endeared tone calls him out of the deep trance. His voice is a little breathless from running, he does so effortlessly while talking after years of taking this same route. The youngest has to shake his head a little bit, for a moment, Namjoon’s voice still sounded a little bit far away.

“You look like you saw a ghost, whats up?” For some reason, his boyfriend’s obliviousness only leads Jungkook to one conclusion: Namjoon hasn’t noticed the Camellia bush.

Of course he hasn’t, why would he?

Jungkook… Can’t ignore the sour disappointment in his tongue.

…

Odd.

They’ve stopped running now.

You still have to answer something, Jungkook.

“Oh.. I was just-..” He cuts himself off. Doing what? Judging Namjoon for not meeting the standards of a random poet?

“Those flowers are pretty.” Jungkook finds his voice a little softer, gesturing to the bush a little bit behind him; still at arms reach. He can’t help but sound shy, the answer he came with on the spot was… rather silly.

But, at least it was true , he thinks as his eyes linger over the gorgeous splashes of pink.

Namjoon’s expression is startled for a second, before melting into tooth rotting fondness. “You like Camellias?” Jungkook can feel the older’s eyes on him, tender and loving; before his hand is reaching tenderly for the bush.

He can’t lie, Jungkook is a little hypnotized by the way Namjoon’s knuckles look caressing the flower carefully. “So, do you?” The young hadn’t realized he had forgotten to breathe at the sight, Namjoon’s voice grounding him yet again from his wandering thoughts.

His nod comes hurriedly, thank god Namjoon is used to his spacing out; his chuckles help Jungkook’s shoulders sag down relaxed. He hadn’t even realized he had tensed them in the first place. “They only bloom in the winter… Feels special.” A shy smile grows on his face as he eyes up at Namjoon; he is already staring at the younger with a soft look.

“Who would have guessed you knew about flowers.” There's something gently amused about his tone, playful and flirty. It still makes Jungkook feel exposed.

He doesn’t know about flowers. He just looked up the flowers on his way from the library. But of course Namjoon would pick up on it, his boyfriend has been into botany since before they even started dating.

Meanwhile Jungkook… has no excuse. He tries to hide it in his face. “Only after spending so much time with you! ”He exclaims softly, nudging his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. Jungkook hadn’t realized they were so close, his hand goes to meet Namjoon’s where it's cradling the flower. “Do you have one of these?” His voice comes out quietly, too caught up admiring the sight of their big hands holding the almost hyperbolically delicate flower.

Do you imagine the poet cares for Camellias and Daffodils?

Namjoon chuckles softly, for some reason, it feels like he is reading Jungkook’s thoughts. “No, they’re a little too hard to maintain just for a pretty flower that comes once a year.”

Oh… He can’t help his disheartened reaction.

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed.” Jungkook’s eyes snap from where they were stranded on the flower, Namjoon’s hand isn’t there anymore; but he can distinctively feel a hand gingerly tucking a strand of hair into Jungkook’s beanie. Handling the younger in a similar fashion than he did the flower. “We can come take care of this one every once in a while; I’m sure I got some ericaceous fertilizer saved up.” His eyes meet Namjoon, smiling tenderly.

Jungkook can feel his chest tighten in affection. A grin spreads across his face. “This is just an excuse for you to take me in more runs with you, isn’t it?” He can barely hold his accusing laugh, launching forward to press his fists to Namjoon’s chest; it earns a roll of his eyes, but Jungkook can the tremble of a laugh under his hands.

“Can’t even start a nice project with your boyfriend anymore. Romance is so dead.” His attempts for sound annoyed are laughable. And the answer only makes it more obvious what Namjoon’s intentions truly were.

Romance can’t be dead, though. Not as long as that Moma Muji, passport sized, 4.92 x 3.36 inch notebook is sitting in his dorm.

He feels guilt as he side eyes the notebook laying on his bedside table. Especially with the feeling of Namjoon’s plush lips lingering on his cheek from when he just dropped Jungkook by his room.

Especially when that persian green cover is a mocking reminder of the Camellia bush they encountered; reminding Jungkook that the flower mentioned in the poem has no relation to Jungkook’s life outside from the confines of that green leather cover.

Reminding Jungkook of how… oddly disappointed he is by that fact.

He plops heavily on his bed, arm reaching for his bedside table. When he grips the notebook and opens it, he does it spitefully.

I wanted to have the sea so I swallowed it up

But I’m even thirstier than before

Is what I know really an ocean?

Or a blue dessert?

Maybe it's the soothing feeling of his stomach full from the food he had with Namjoon after his run.

Maybe it's the dark outside his window, allowing his thoughts to think of someone, somewhere, who can’t have enough of their lover.

He doesn’t know… But he manages to fall asleep.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover.

The guilt follows him like a shadow.

Damn, he is even thinking in poems now.

He can't help it! He can’t help the way that, despite Namjoon giving him everything, he still longs for a romance like the one in the poems. Everyday, Jungkook sinks a little deeper into the vulnerable self of the poet; his heart fluttering at their verses while simultaneously expecting Namjoon to keep up with him. Keep up with his sensitive tugging of his heartstring that his boyfriend doesn't seem to be syncing to.

In fact, Namjoon seems to be more weary of Jungkook’s attempts at romance. Acknowledging them for sure and just, he isn’t de--escalating his gestures… But… he seems weary of them.

We need the scenery of the night more than anyone

You are the only one, that comforts me more than anything

Thinking “don’t think” it's a thought on itself, you know?

With your falling eyes I look at the night sky again

We are each other's night view

We are each other's moon

The poet said, and Jungkook thought while standing on the balcony of Namjoon’s apartment. The both of them are way too under-dressed for the weather; clouds looking menacing above them; hunched over the railing shoulders pressed together.

It's calm, however, Jungkook feels like his heart will beat out of his chest. Too many words, too many emotions that he can feel bottling up in chest; threatening to spill in a way that he fears is quite too vulnerable to present to Namjoon.

“I really need moments like these.” It feels as if with the help of the poet,Jungkook was able to really grow more comfortable voicing out his thoughts like these. A fear he had to explain to Namjoon when they first started dating, nervously reassured him that he did want a relationship; despite his lack of enthusiasm.

He was so embarrassed back then… Still dealing with the aftermath of a self-homophobic past.

“What about them?” He can feel Namjoon side-eyeing him with a smile.

Of course he doesn’t get it.

That’s something else Jungkook has been losing his grip of: the snarky comments that come out of Namjoon's… inadequacy? He shouldn’t even be calling it that, not when Namjoon has given him everything. It's just, lately, the more Jungkook grows in his romantic acts and words, the more it seems Namjoon is just… playing dumb.

He isn’t picking up any of his signals.

It's getting frustrating.

It's like Namjoon is just backing down when things were starting to get serious for them.

And that fucking hurts.

“Nothing, forget it.” He mumbles eyes still strained on the city infront of them. “It's getting late anyways, I should probably head back.” He can’t hide the distance in his voice. They had agreed Jungkook was staying over, and it's obvious how that objection hangs off Namjoon's tongue as he stares a little widened. Jungkook answers before he can speak. “I have early class tomorrow, it's better if I go from my dorm.”

Somehow, the disappointment grows on his boyfriend’s face more at that. “Oh…” Jungkook fights the urge to kiss the pout off his pouting lips. “Yeah you’re right it would just be… inconvenient to stay here.”

When Jungkook leaves, he feels a heaviness in his chest. But he chooses to ignore it.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages.

24 of them, ruled, though only 16 are being used. Jungkook knows because he counted them, even if he hasn’t gotten to read everything he skimmed through the pages in a weak attempt to distract his mind. The unnecessary but easy counting of the pages, most of them double-sided in their use, except for the last one (They must have gotten tired of the ink bleeding through the pages, Jungkook asumes), helps keep his mind off last night.

Not that he has anything he needs distraction from. He is fine.

Him and Namjoon are fine .

No big fight occurred, no insensitive one sided fallout, no revolutionary discovery. But why does Jungkook feel so… off?

So neglected, so scammed, so robbed of a romance he could be having but doesn’t have. That Namjoon doesn’t let him have.

Jungkook always does this, he always feels so intensely, always too needy and too ready to fall in love. At a speed and intensity that doesn’t match others. He had revealed so much of himself to Namjoon, had been so open about his devotion, his complete and thorough adoration; and he convinced himself to believe Namjoon was okay with his arduous loving.

But if Jungkook took a second to think about it, he had been a fool to think that. Namjoon, his Namjoon is a philosopher by default, a thinker, he dissects, and recognizes, and categorizes, and doubts . Namjoon has so many doubts. About everything really, so perceptive of his surroundings he theorizes about things that aren't his business, except they are because Namjoon has an interest for every little thing in this world.

And it's as enamouring, as it is deadly.

Namjoon questions, questions himself, his intentions, his moral, his relationships, his worthiness .

It’s been four years.

But it's never too late for Namjoon to have second doubts. Even when Jungkook is sinked… so, so deep..

Maybe they aren’t meant to b-

Maybe Jungkook should read a poem.

Parting is to me, a tear that blooms unknowingly in my eyes

All the things we couldn’t say flow out

And lingering feelings crawl up my face

Parting is the reward that comes only at the end

Of my play of lies

It feels like hours as Jungkook stares at it, entranced. Only when he sees a teardrop make the ink bleed and smudge, is when he is snapped out of it.

He sets the notebook down in his night stand. Jungkook doesn’t feel like reading anymore of it, the knot on his chest only tightened by the unhelpful words of the poem.

He read enough .

Jungkook curls to his side dejected, as if offended at the poet and his own relationship problems.

Maybe romance is dead after all.

He feels his shoulders tremble in what's a sob shaking its way out of his lungs. Is he really going to give up Namjoon? Just for a romance that clearly isn’t as perfect as he thought it was?

He can’t.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used.

That's what he thinks when his hand reaches for the notebook almost in a hurry. Jungkook had run back from that dreadful early class, he was barely able to concentrate, a plan forming in his head just as he was about to go to sleep dejected and sad. It kept him all night from the nerves of it all. He has to make things right, and the lack of sleep didn’t stop his adrenaline as it made his mind wander even with the professor explaining in front of him.

The point is Jungkook has the notebook and is desperately running to Namjoon’s apartment.

Guess all those winter runs served some purpose at least.

Maybe he is being stupid for running in negative number weather in clothes that were apropriate for his ac-heated classroom. But fuck it.

Romance is alive, and Jungkook is the breathing, sprinting, embodiment of it.

When he reaches Namjoon’s apartment, his throat feels like it has shards of ice poking at it with every deep swallow of air, the skin across his cheeks and nose sporting a blush from the cold and knife-like wind across his face running here. His hair is a mess, there’s definitely sweat stains under his arms, and he most definitely looks insane.

He also kinda forgot to tell Namjoon he was coming over, he knows his boyfriend’s schedules and routines so he should be home right now. He always has friday morning’s off. So he doesn’t bother letting Namjoon know, rather fumbling with his shaky, numb fingers to reach for the spare key. The ends of his hands are also red from the cold, tingling and making his movements clumsy.

But he manages to put the key into the whole regardless. And feeling quite proud of himself and with adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he opens the door.

Namjoon is standing near the door, hunched over halfway through putting on his shoes, looking up surprised. It seems as if adrenaline was only willing to get him this far, as it leaves Jungkook’s body completely.

“Babe…” Namjoon’s voice is cutely stunned, with his eyes widened and plump lips adorably parted with a mouth that stays ajar. “What are you doing here?”

“Where were you going?” Jungkook asks instead of answering. His voice is embarrassingly small for someone who took a 35 minute run without an ounce of doubt. Maybe he's just out of breath.

Oh god, Namjoon was leaving, he has stuff to do Jungkook came at a bad time, he is probably over exaggerating and took all of this way out of proportion and Namjoon didn’t even think anything was wrong at all and he is just making a big scene for nothing being the big, needy baby that he is; bothering Namjoon with his useless emotions-

“Your dorm.” He replies so simply, like sinceirty costs him nothing when it's to Jungkook. “I asked first though.” And his tone isn't accusatory as it is teasing.

Namjoon doesn’t specify, but something inside him wants to believe the older was on his way to do the same as Jungkook.

“I...I wanted to tell you something?” He can’t help but sound doubtful. Even when he knows Namjoon is on his way to see him, even when his eyes are soft enough to melt the shard of ice growing on Jungkook's throat; he can’t seem to recognize if it's from the run or the anxiety. “It's kinda silly, though.” He can’t help but coax that out as well. from the outside one would consider Jungkook is belittling his feelings, yet belittling it makes it less of a big deal and maybe it can calm the speeding rate of his heartbeat.

“It must be important if you came right after class.” Namjoon says taking off the single shoe he had managed to put on and properly stand up straight eyeing Jungkook. “Did you run all the way from the bus station? Jungkook…” He scolds, taking Jungkook's frozen hands into his own bigger warmer ones and drags him in.

Jungkook for a moment has to hold back a snicker imagining Namjoon’s reaction if he knew how he actually got here. And he looks so cute with his small frown and determined expression already. He can feel his own heart sizing up as Namjoon drags him by the hands into the couch, hushing about Jungkook being too careless and too underdressed as he drapes a heavy blanket over his shoulders.

He feels cared for, it's nice.

It's only when Namjoon forced a hot cup of tea into Jungkook’s hands, that they slowly start to regain their feeling, that the older sits back down next to him on the couch. His eyes are concerned, unsure, as if all this had just been an excuse to make time, before he inevitably has to ask. “What-uh--What did you want to tell me?” He manages to smile, but Jungkook knows him all too well.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t falter though, he is ready to do this. He needs to do this.

“You...you’re probably wondering what happened to me yesterday.” Namjoon’s expression drops at that nodding a bit quickly, eagerly, and all too endearingly. Jungkook really made him worry, didn’t he?

“I was upset over some rando’s romantic poems,because--well its stupid but- they were so corny and romantic, they actually made me doubt what you and I have.” He can't help the incredulous tone of his voice because, saying it outloud finally, it really is so ridiculous. Jungkook shakes his head smiling, as if humored.

When his eyes find Namjoon again, they melt with love at the older’s stunned expression. “I convinced myself we were out of sync, or that you weren’t getting anything I sent your way. But it was just those stupid corny poems getting to me.” He sets the cup down, hands warm enough to hold Namjoon’s.

“But I am stupid, and corny, and in love.” He feels his own cheeks burning. “So I want to dedicate these poems to you.” Jungkook knows his smile is giddy like a childs as he reaches for his pocket taking the infamous notebook and handing it to Namjoon with an excited smile.

His boyfriend still looks stunned, and Jungkook can only think about how much smaller the passport sized notebook fits in his hands; even when Jungkook’s own hands aren’t particularly small, it's his boyfriend’s fault for being so family-sized.

With a great amount of strength, he forces himself to stop looking at his boyfriend’s gorgeous hands as he skims through the pages. He is a little surprised to find a frown on Namjoon’s brow, an anxious feeling settling over the younger at the bottom of his stomach.

“How much did you read of it?” Namjoon asks eyes staying glued to the notebook on his lap, avoiding Jungkook’s wide vulnerable eyes.

“U-uh.. I read… I read the first five, though--though the fifth one isn't romantic I only want the first four of them for you. They--I think they fit perfectly into my--my feelings for you.” Jungkook is growing nervous by the second, Namjoon’s eyes stay strained on the notebook, as Jungkook grows more and more convinced that he is exposing too much too intensely again.

“So you didn’t read the whole thing.” For the first time since Jungkook handed him the notebook, Namjoon’s eyes traveled to meet Jungkook’s unsure eyes. He can’t find his voice so he just shakes his head, and that makes his boyfriend's shoulders relax with a sigh. “Okay that explains it.”

“Ex-Explains what?”

“None of those poems are romantic, Jungkook-ah.”

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (allegedly).

“How--how would you know?” Jungkook asks almost defensively, as if standing up for the stranger poet with fanaticism.

Namjoon winces as if it pains him to say it. “I left the notebook by your desk, its uh--mine.” He was avoiding Jungkook’s eyes until now, staring up at him vulnerable, but with a small smile. “They aren’t romantic poems.”

Jungkook’s world stops for just a second, the shock is evident on his face. He is beginning to open his mouth to speak again but he can’t find anything in his seemingly hollow head to say anything. “Well...That’s embarrassing.” He manages to say, feeling the tip of his ears burn.

He made that whole love scene.

“I believe the reader can find more than one structured meaning to the poems, it's not that my meaning is above yours just because I wrote it.” Namjoon explains, and maybe it's his imagination, but he sounds a lot more comfortable having seen his own loss of words on Jungkook’s tongue. He is handing him back the notebook, the older’s smile is almost as giddy as his when he first started his monologue.

“That sounds like bullshit to make me feel better.” He manages to joke with a grin.

“You should read it, the ending” Namjoon’s smile turns warm. He didn’t deny it. Sounds like, thinking the creator’s intentions are equal to the perception of the auciende, is bullshit after all. “It's kinda important.” There's humor in his voice and a pout forms on the younger’s lips.

“Well I liked to appreciate them one poem at a time!” He defends but it's harmless under Namjoon’s loving stare.

“You could have just recognized my handwriting, baby.” Jungkook’s face blushes in embarrassment.

“And take away all the mystery? No.”

Jungkook’s fingers are hurried and clumsy as he flips over the pages, at first eyeing the poems that had already plagued his mind for weeks. And as he continues forward finding more scribbles and poems, only recognizing a word or two before skipping until he reached the last pages. His heart threatened to beat its way out of Jungkook’s chest.

He is pretty sure he is on page 14 when he meets what he is looking for.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend).

Jungkook

His own name stares back at him as he prepares himself for what's next. But he can't find it in himself to feel afraid, not with the weight of Namjoon’s adoring eyes on him.

If you’ve reached this part is because you managed to read through this notebook and whatever I coax out of myself to write in it. I

If you reached this part, then it means you managed to get through all the ugly that I put in here, all my doubts and fears and sour thoughts, I displayed them to you.

Because you make me believe that all my ugly insides are worthy of love; that my entire self is somehow deserving of you. You make me want to show you my realest self.

So, I did. And even if it hasn’t happened I’m terrified of the thought already; no one has made me sink as deep as you, while simultaneously lifting me up higher than ever.

For some reason, I get the feeling I’m exaggerating, since you always find a way to love the unlovable parts of myself. But despite that, I want to give you something pretty, and worthy of love.

I used to be one of those whatever people

I didn’t believe in what real love is

I used to say habitually “I want to love”

But I found myself. The whole new myself.

I met you and did I realize that I’m a book

I want to be the best man for you

It's probably naturally because you are my world itself

You are my beginning and the end itself

I wanna become part of your bookcase

I wanna interfere in your novel as your lover.

What would it be like if I really went to you?

If I went to you, would you be sad?

If I am not the one, what would I be?

In the end, would you leave me too?

The wind wind wind that grazes me

I hope that isn’t just this.

My feelings are blue blue blue

My entire head is filled with blue

How much much much

How much much much you…

You’re my person

You’re my wind

You’re my pride

You’re my love

You’re my love.

Jungkook, I want to share my ugly and my pretty with you, I want to let you see me whole .

Would you move in with me?

“You...You didn’t just imagine me acting off sync.” Namjoon breaks the suffocating silence as Jungkook’s widened eyes leave the sixteenth page of the notebook. It looks like the older’s expression has softened, even if sadly. “I thought you had read it all and just...didn’t know how to reject me.” He smiles but it's gloomy eyes avoiding the younger, as if he had assumed this was a fact.

A little bit of Jungkook’s heart breaks at that.

A life shared with Namjoon, Namjoon who trusts Jungkook the deepest parts of his being, that trusts in Jungkook’s ability to love, to treat him delicately around ugly insides, and grounding against a weak trembling frame.

Like he looks right now, eyes nervous and strained on Jungkook as his hands fondle with each other shoulders raising and falling shakily with quivering breaths. Jungkook doesn’t even have to think twice.

Both his hands reach for Namjoon’s shoulders, making sure his entire attention is on him. Namjoon's lowered head perks up startled. “Joonie… I’m sorry your plan didn’t work out the way you intended.” He smiles apologetically and he lets his hands slide down Namjoon’s arms and onto his fiddling hands. “But it's not like it matters.” His tone it's relaxed but it doesn’t seem to calm Namjoon, not even with the stroking of his thumbs over the older's hand.

There's a question rising up the older’s throat but Jungkook doesn’t let it. “It doesn’t matter because... I want to move in with you.” He sees all the tension leave Namjoon’s expression into pure surprise, endearing enough that it coaxes a giggle out of Jungkook, tugging his bigger hands closer to him, kissing him softly; surprised to find Namjoon kissing back with what he can only imagine is all the pent up emotion from this week.

He doesn’t question it for long, he can never think all that much when Namjoon is kissing him.

“Where are you going? We already have everything.” Jungkook questions his boyfriend as he starts to exit their apartment door; which is currently filled with boxes they just brought back from Jungkook’s former dorm.

“I just have one more thing to get from my car.” He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and without any more explanation he leaves through the door. Leaving Jungkook by himself for the first time in this entire hectic day.

The apartment looks messy, or well, messier than usual; Namjoon always tried to be neat for his boyfriend’s sake, and succeeded a few times. Most times, Jungkook would find him covered in work and would offer to clean for him, claiming to be ‘trophy wife’ material. Its catastrophic now, covered in boxes, Jungkookisn’t a hoarder but Namjoon’s apartment is what one would politely call ‘cozy’. It's catastrophic, yet Jungkook can only feel his heart size up in excitement and giddiness; as if completely unaffected by the mess like he normally would.

It's just hard to focus on the mess, when every time he tries to he sees traces of himself in this apartment: in his box of old CDs that will go in a shared collection with Namjoon’s, or how his boyfriend indulged him by taking Jungkook’s energy crystals out of the moving box and into the spaces of the apartment here they belong (even when it's obvious he doesn’t believe in them for a second), or the way Namjoon got some of Jungkook’s photos printed out and framed so they can decide where to hang them sometime this week.

He’s only been living here for half a day, and Namjoon’s place is already his.

Well, to be fair, Namjoon has been his for a considerably longer amount of time. And that fact alone is enough to make Jungkook stand just the slightest bit taller than before.

Yes he is proud, sue him.

“Back.” Namjoon announces softly shutting the door, and taking out his snow soaked boots, with a hand suspiciously behind his back.

In a wave of confidence Jungkook can’t help the flirty smile as he walks over to his boyfriend. “Yes, back.” A hand settles over the short hairs of Namjoon’s nape, caressing softly. “What’s behind it?” He tilts his head to the side with a smile that tries to be seductive but only manages to be bright.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” Namjoon’s face splits into a grin staring down slightly to Jungkook; he isn’t that short! It's just… they’re so close.

“No you can not. I own this place and I’ll establish a customs directorate right at the doorstep.” His grin is wide, cocky almost with its jokes; hands still mindlessly playing with Namjoon’s hair with arms hooked over his shoulders.

“You own the place? Does that mean you’ll pay your share of the bill?” A raised eyebrow is all Jungkook needs for his facade to collapse.

“Nooo, I think you misheard me. I just said this is my boyfriend’s place? My super generous, compassionate and broken college student boyfriend, he is great.” If hsi tone sounds desperate he doesn't care, it makes Namjoon chuckle, and that's all that matters. “No customs. But please show me? Please?” Maybe he is whining, laying limp against Namjoon’s firm torso while he whines like a child.

But you can’t criticize him for it, when it works.

“You are impossible to resist, you know it's not fair.” He says rolling his eyes and shoving Jungkook off of him, with the hand that he has available. Once they're at a comfortable distance he reveals.

A potted Camellia.

“I bet that mean poet had you pretty bummed about not having one of these.” His tone is joking but soft, adoring as a pink tone spreads over his cheeks.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he nears Namjoon again, the potted plant being the only thing separating them. “He did.” He meets Namjoon’s hands helping hold the weight of the plant. Today, his hands are cold instead of Jungkook’s. “I’ll have to make him pay me somehow.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some way.” Namjoon mumbles but leaning over close enough that Jungkook understands. Placing a soft peck to his lips.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend), now sitting on a bedside table on Jungkook’s side of the bed, with a cut Camellia on a whiskey glass with water next to it. Both manifestations of how Namjoon is just as stupid and corny and in love as he is.

#namkook #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #fluff #established relationship #poetry fic #happy ending #misunderstandings

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