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soobadnoonecanstopher · 3 years

Text

Touch it for Real, Part 5

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / mention of feet

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6

Baekhyun was trembling. His hands were actually shaking so much each time he tried to type into the keyboard of his phone he hit the wrong letters and the typos rendered his message impossible for even the autocorrect to guess what he was trying to say.

“Just — ugh — just give me a regular keyboard for fuck’s sake,” he was grumbling to himself, “my hands wont stop shaking. I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He tossed the phone with force away from him and it landed face down on the carpet across the living room.

“No. I refuse,” he was staring over at the phone on the floor with a shell shocked aura about him, “just forget it. I’ve changed my mind. I can’t. I won’t!”

You’d given him a homework assignment an hour ago.

Ask a girl out on a date.

He’d been sitting on this sofa with his phone in his hands, writing, deleting, rewriting and deleting, again and again, into the text message conversation he had going with Mia.

It had been going pretty well with Mia actually. You’d been handing him the reins more and more and you both celebrated together with a single glass of wine the night he’d had his first actual phone conversation with her. Baekhyun was a lightweight and usually refused to drink more than a few sips of alcohol but he’d gone for the chilled bottle in the fridge and poured it into two glasses and handed one of them to you and lifted his own into the air. He did not wait for you to acknowledge his toast though. He just downed the contents of his glass with a wince on his face in a single go, slammed the empty glass down onto the counter roughly and stormed out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. You sipped your glass and counted it as a shared celebration.

His phone call lasted for 3 minutes and 32 seconds and he managed to tell one awkward joke that elicited audible laughter from the girl. You knew because you sat on the couch beside him with your ear pulled up as close to the phone as you could manage, trying to hear everything that happened. You’d let him know you were here to intervene if something went wrong but honestly you were sure he would do well on his own. And honestly, he was about to do well on his own, despite how awkward and very nervous his voice was.

They had gotten past the introductions at least twice when he briefly forgot what came after “hello” and simply said it a second time. She at least said it twice too and the awkward pause that came after that went on for too long when you held up the index card in your hand and pointed with your finger to the question you had written down.

“Uhh...so h-how...umm...how are — I mean, what are you up to?”

You couldn't make out her response, but whatever she said pulled an interested hum from the back of his throat and he made a quick witted remark that had her giggling in response.

You could definitely make out the sounds of her laughter and you could instantly see the change on his face when it happened. You saw the brightness form inside his eyes and he turned to look at you with a surprised expression as he lifted a finger to point at the phone he held in his hand.

His eyes were wide with something in between amazement and panic and he mouthed the words ‘she’s laughing’ at you and you nodded enthusiastically in response.

Unfortunately a few seconds after the joke he accidentally dropped the phone and it took a wild bounce, landing somewhere under the couch. He couldn’t find it for two whole minutes and when he finally found it, he made up some excuse about having to go because he smelled something burning.

He stared at the phone until the screen turned black and he didn’t move when you rubbed a soothing hand over his back.

“That went pretty good,” you offered. Baekhyun grunted and turned toward the kitchen for the celebratory toast.

Since that night, (you know the one) you’d intentionally taken on a more supportive teacher role in this project. You vowed to keep yourself involved as much as he needed and you swore you could keep your own selfishness from impeding his progress. The way you had been acting had been unfair and he was too good to you for him to deserve anything less than your very best.

You had made a promise to Baekhyun and then you made a promise to yourself to follow through on that promise. You would move Heaven and Earth to help him reach his goal because he deserved it and seeing him happy would be enough to get you through anything that came your way.

You were fine.

No really, you were completely fine.

He was moaning.

You sat on the couch beside him with your foot propped up on the coffee table as you carefully applied the second coat of polish to your toenails. You’d become quite the expert at applying polish to your nails during bumpy situations. Sitting next to the man who flailed and squirmed beside you on this sofa was commonplace and simply no big deal.

You could probably do this during an earthquake.

His moaning turned into much louder moaning and he threw himself back onto the arm of the couch dramatically and in protest of the unfairness of your assignment.

“Buuuug,” he whined through his nose, drawing it out like a little kid.

You’d just finished your pinky toe when his foot pushed up against your thigh.

Your aim was quick and you reached over and grabbed his foot by the heel as you pivoted in place.

“Be still,” you said calmly and you held his foot in place as you applied the bright red polish to his big toenail. You often did his toes to match your own because it made his toes look adorable and he wore socks everywhere he went anyway so he didn’t mind what you did to amuse yourself.

You moved quickly, dabbing carefully over each of his nails until they were all painted to match yours. You blew air over them to dry them, being thankful you’d invested in the 60 second polish.

“Buuu-hu-hu-hu-uuug,” he moaned harder, wiggling his hips into the fit he was throwing and closing his eyes to sell you on the absolute anguish he was in. “Bug, I just don't think I can do it. Can we do something else? I don't even know what to do on a date. What if she says no? Oh god, what if she says yes, I’m going to puke. Do you want to see me puke? Because I am going to puke.”

You tapped a hand lightly over the top of his finished foot and pointed to the other one and after a few moments he shifted, giving in to what you asked for right away.

But good lord, he was dramatic. The whining and the moaning intensified just when you thought you couldn't stand another volume increase he raised his voice into a shout and put actual words to his protests. Your ears were already ringing and you could feel your substantial patience — really, you were on a level with a Buddhist monk after two years living with this — beginning to shake.

“I mean, if I asked you to teach me how to swim would you chuck me into the ocean on the first day?”

You forced your focus down on his other foot, getting the polish smooth and perfect with each stroke. He had gone quiet after his question to you and you bit down on your lip as you carefully pondered the words he was saying. The last thing you wanted was to make him so uncomfortable he was unable to go about his daily life. You didn't need this project to become a source of heartache for the man.

You were not an unreasonable person. Perhaps this really had been too big of a step for him to take without having even practiced under the careful instruction of a teacher.

He’d waited in silence for you to answer for only a few seconds and when you didn’t; because you were thinking about it, dammit, he threw his whole head back and his mouth opened up and he wailed into the ceiling above his head at an even more annoying volume than you thought was possible. This was new and shocking. It was deafening. Surely the neighbors would think someone was being butchered in here.

The awful sounds were coming straight from his diaphragm. The man had power in those pipes and he was going to destroy your ear drums in order to get his way. It went on and on, changing from a moaning, groaning large-dog-with-a-bellyache sound into what you imagined it might sound like inside of an echo chamber trapped with a big sad whale, the biggest ones they made, who also happened to be on fire. He was giving you everything he had now. This was full volume and it was horrible.

“Alright!” You shouted over the wretched screaming, “Alright fine! For the love of God, Baekhyun!” You said for emphasis and the incredible relief of silence flooded and cleansed your ear drums that still vibrated from the after effects of all of that noise.

He lifted his head and closed up his mouth instantly and his eyes were wide as he cautiously watched and waited for what you would say next.

“Do you want me to teach you? Do you think you can practice with me so you learn how to do it before you have to do it for real, on your own? That’s what you mean right? You want more instruction before I throw your ass into the ocean?”

His lips were situated down into a fierce pout now and he nodded his head twice; a big ol’ up and down.

You were irked now. No amount of pathetic pouting on that face could pull you back from the edge. Even the slow careful nod of his head was just an obvious attempt at winning you over with cuteness. Well, it wouldn't work. If anyone was capable of annoying someone to death, it was this man right here and he came very close just now.

“New assignment,” you said with your finger raised and he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and pushed his top lip forward as he inflated his cheeks into round balloons. He sat up straighter and he waited for you to speak.

“Since I am a woman,” you began with your finger still raised and waving in his direction. His eyes glanced down at it, “you may ask me out on a date, for practice. And if I say yes, we will then—”

Your pointed finger was joined by your whole hand as you opened it up and you waved it through the air twice, a visual representation of cause and effect of such a situation. His eyeballs followed every movement you made, looking at the hand that moved instead of at you, the actual speaker.

His eyes popped up into yours when he registered the words you were saying; the requirements of his new assignment.

“...we will then — well, we will..”

Your words were sticking. He was listening very closely and he’d released the air trapped in his mouth and his lips now hung open as his eyes occasionally followed the waving of your hand in front of his face. It was silly how shifty his focus was when your hand moved in front of him.

“We...will…” he said and his face moved, mirroring the movements of your hand as he tried best to understand the new task you were trying so hard to assign to him, even repeating your words to help you get the next ones out.

“We will go on a date. A real one. A practice date. You will have to take me on a date, Baekhyun. You’ll just have to .. do your best at it.”

“A date? I’ll have to,” he said with a flinching, squinting blink of his eyes, “...do my best?”

“Yes, of course,” you said as you pointed your finger at him again, pulling a swift but deep gasp into your lungs to fight the dizziness you could feel building inside your head, “It’s an assignment. Like school. I will give you a grade on how well you do. If you fail, then it’s over and I’m a terrible teacher and clearly your problems are beyond my area of expertise.”

His polish was dry. This conversation needed to be over because you were weirdly agitated by the wide eyed, deer in the headlights expression stuck on his face.

“I’ll send you some study materials later. You better take this seriously, Byun Baekhyun. This is a real assignment from your real dating teacher.”

The entire situation made you anxious. The desire to flee was very strong. You needed a getaway and you needed it now. You felt a tremble inside that could only be attributed to just how freaked out he had been acting. It was rubbing off on you.

You wanted to make a quick escape but you were now fighting with the many bottles of nail polish scattered across the coffee table; you’d gone through so many of them as you decided on which color to use — they really were just numerous and just everywhere. You grasped at them, trying to grab huge handfuls at one time but your hands couldn't hold as many as you wanted and each attempt sent a bottle or two clattering noisily to the table below. It was really ruining the dramatically cool exit you were trying for.

After quite a bit of noise you felt the warmth of Baekhyun’s arm as he leaned against you and began to help you pick up the bottles; carefully placing each in it’s designated spot in your huge nail polish organizer.

It took a bit of effort for you to turn to look at him and when his fingertips carefully placed the final bottle in the case you clicked the lid closed and finally managed to face him.

His eyes were flighty. His face was flushed and when he met your eyes the smile on his lips was very tense. It looked like a grimace.

You had to be insane to be doing this. Willingly putting yourself into a situation like this with him, a situation that was for instructional purposes only, but a situation nonetheless. Your heart was racing inside of your chest and you briefly wondered if he could hear it with him sitting so close to you.

You swallowed it away, the nerves or the uncertainty or whatever it was that had taken hold of your hands and made them unstable and you turned to look into his face head on.

“Do you understand the assignment?”

Baekhyun filled his lungs with air and straightened his shoulders, pulling them back as his eyes closed up. You recognized the self calming behavior. When he turned to look at you he held a new determination in his eyes and he nodded his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I was always a good student,” he said, “I will do my best with this assignment. I’ll take it seriously, so I can learn from you well.”

You reached forward and patted the back of his hand lightly and offered a reassuring smile.

“Don't be too nervous, okay? Remember it’s for class so you should learn from it. Mistakes are natural and they help us grow. And you won’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I mean it.”

He swallowed and his lips flattened out into a thin line across his face. His head bobbed up and down and he hummed out a response that told you that yes, he did know what was expected of him for the sake of the lesson; for the sake of his future as an adult man who was entering the dating pool in search of the companionship of some lucky lady.

“Also remember, it’s just me. No pressure. Okay, Peanut? I’m here to help you. You could spill an entire cup of iced tea down my dress at dinner and I would still forgive you.”

“No pressure,” he repeated under his breath and when you were finally satisfied that he really understood, you stood, hefting your manicure supplies up with both hands and you stepped away from the living room to return them to your bathroom.

“Do I have a deadline?” He called after you and you turned back with your hand on the doorknob to your room, quietly amused by the seriousness you saw on his face. At the same time, proud of what a good student he was. He was a smart boy, he would do well in anything he was determined to do.

“Ask me out by tomorrow or else Ben might beat you to it.”

You figured a little sense of competition couldn't hurt. And yes, you were still actually speaking regularly with Ben. You were pleasantly surprised with how smart and how funny he turned out to be and he turned out to be a pretty good distraction for the evenings when you’d normally be bored and hanging around in Baekhyun’s room while he played some game on his PC and he’s toss you a remote for the screen that hung up on the wall above his head. You’d play music videos, or cooking videos from YouTube, or some drama or variety shows and he’d play his games and lean far back in his chair watching the screen when exciting things happened on screen.

A few times lately though, when you went into his room you’d find him watching some anime and you just knew he’d want to pay close attention so he could discuss it later with Mia. You’d much rather find someone to entertain you alone so you didn’t have to be ignored or shushed when you interrupted his anime with some stupid question about it, like who is that guy with the crazy eyes and why is he trying to kill everybody. Ben’s conversations were good enough to keep you occupied at least a little bit.

Back in your bedroom you got to work searching for materials for Baekhyun to study. Mostly using helpful YouTube videos with titles such as “how to ask a girl out”, “what to talk about on a first date” and a super helpful online book you found called The Gentleman’s Guide: How to be the Perfect Date. It was just a little outdated with the styles but the book was extensive and ran the gamut from hygiene to manners to confidence and conversation; it even had an entire section called The Art of Subtle Seduction and it made you just a little embarrassed to think of Baekhyun reading this part. He was an adult. He could handle this much. The Dos and Don'ts of a First Date section alone was worth the price you paid for the book.

You wrote up an email with your course materials and sent it off to the man.

Then you sat and waited alone in your bedroom until your level of boredom that in any other situation would be unremarkable, when combined with the built up anticipation inside of you, mixed into a perfect storm of swirling lunacy that was bouncing around inside of you; trying to break free and wreak havoc on something other than your chest walls.

You grabbed your cell phone, slipped by the 2 waiting text messages from Ben that you would absolutely get to later, and opened a new text message to Baekhyun.

‘peanut did you get my email ^^?’

You were sure he did. Of course he did. You wondered if there was anything he found lacking in the pages and pages of super helpful information you sent him. You wondered what he thought about it all and maybe if he needed some guidance or suggestions on how to proceed with the first step of his assignment. Did he need you to come over to his bedroom and watch the videos with him? Would that be too awkward?

Your phone vibrated.

‘yep’

He would ask for help if he needed it, you were certain. He would be fine. This wasn’t real anyway. It wasn’t like there was an actual deadline, not really. You enjoyed talking with Ben but it didn’t seem like he was close to asking you out yet. He had been a bit busy lately and you had been busy as well with work and with helping Baekhyun.

You’d seen from the notification preview on your phone that Ben’s last two messages were asking you something that would take a while to explain and you didn’t want to open them yet in case he’d been expecting you to reply quickly. You needed a bit more time to come up with an answer for the questions he had casually asked about your roommate. You’d tell Ben that Baekhyun was, yes, a guy. And no, it wasn’t awkward living with a man.

You’d get to all that later. Now, you were entirely too keyed up about a problem of your very own creation.

When.

But really...

When?

You could not relax. Because honestly it could happen at any moment. He could come barging into your room, plop his ass down unceremoniously on your bed and say “Hey Doll, hows about you and me go on a hot date this weekend, what about it? Nyeeahhh?” Like some sort of 1940s gangster. You could definitely see Baekhyun doing this accent. You were pretty sure he had a 40s gangster hat in his closet.

You’d decided that you wouldn't give him a hard time about how he asked you. You’d accept right away for the sake of his nerves, if he worked up the courage to ask you at all, then he was on the right track and he deserved an E for effort.

You still had trouble with the anticipation. Not knowing when was the hardest part to handle. You tried your very best to go about your day in as normal a way possible. Sure, you jumped every time you heard a sound, but other than that, it felt like any other day.

He spent the rest of the evening in his room and didn't even come out until you heard the doorbell ring. You peaked your head out of your bedroom door and waited for him to answer it but after a few minutes with no sight of him you stepped out. The doorbell rang a second time and you rushed from your room to answer it before the visitor gave up.

It could have been something important. This building had a doorman so it was usually someone who had a purpose ringing the bell.

The view through the camera monitor showed a run of the mill pizza delivery man, and you remembered that it was Baekhyun’s turn to make dinner tonight. He must have ordered you a pizza so he could hide in his room all night and not have to worry about walking around you in the kitchen and not asking you out on a date.

This was his way of avoiding you for the night.

You had to swallow down the flash of silly disappointment that popped up. You’d assumed correctly that he had already paid for the pizza and you received your cardboard box of loneliness with a polite smile for the weirdly cheerful delivery kid.

You gave a quick glance at the label in the front of the box to check for forbidden toppings just in case he’d forgotten who he was avoiding tonight and put something weird on it like corn and mayo or hot peppers.

The label had four lines of ingredients listed, the first said ‘xtra cheese’ and each additional one after that said ‘xtra cheese.’ Nothing else, just ‘xtra cheese’ listed four times in succession.

What in the world?

You briefly considered a malfunction of the pizza shop’s label maker, but boy was this thing heavy. Did he sneeze while selecting toppings and accidentally hit the option four times?

You set the monster down on the counter and lifted the lid. It was steaming hot despite the trip in the car and up the elevators to your door and as soon as you opened it you noticed the odd appearance of the inside lid.

There was a message handwritten with black marker inside of the lid.

Your stomach leapt up into your throat as you recognized what this was. The message started with the word Bug.

You had to cover your mouth to get through this.

Bug,

I know this is really, really, really, really cheesy, but will you go out on a date with me this Saturday?

Knock thrice on my door for yes.

-Peanut

P.S. Did I beat Ben?

You had to hang your head to contain it. You wanted to scream. Giggles actually burst out of your mouth before you could stop them. You were highly amused. Actually reallly fucking impressed and goddammit you felt a genuine flutter of butterflies inside of your stomach. How was he this clever? He had always been very silly and good at thinking of the most ridiculous scenarios to get things done, but wow. When you lifted the lid once more to read his message again your mind spun with the logistics of that man in that bedroom sneakily ordering this thing from a real pizza shop that was probably a block from your home.

Did he call them and explain the situation? Did all of the employees gather around, chanting ‘More cheese! Give the man more cheese!’ As they loaded this pizza up with what looked to be a full inch of melted cheese on top? It compromised the edges of the crust and flowed over the cardboard below. It was absolutely ridiculous and nearly inedible too.

Did they giggle at the pet names you called each other as they selected the employee with the best handwriting to relay his message?

You were buzzing again. This time it was pride. He was brilliant at everything he put his mind to and this was clearly no exception. He would do so well in his life.

You left the kitchen and made your way toward his closed bedroom door. As you came close you heard a very soft thud; wooden door hitting wooden door frame. The movement was hardly noticeable but you could see a slow turn of the doorknob too. He probably thought he was sneaky.

You lifted your closed fist and quietly hit three times against his door and after exactly ten seconds you heard the squeak of his doorknob turning and his bedroom door opened up an inch.

You saw a single brown eyeball peeping at you through the opening.

“I’ll text you the details later,” he whispered and the door closed up again before you could respond.

The details came by text message a day later, just as he promised. It was a Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed and you’d just put the final touches on your data entry work for the day, running it through a spell checker for mistakes as you always did. You’d expected to hear from Ben by now, he said he had something to go straighten out at the bank. He’d taken it well, finding out that your roommate was a man around your age, and he didn’t even ask too many prodding questions about him.

The message was from Baekhyun with the time he would ‘arrive’ to pick you up on Saturday and he gave you sparse details about what he actually had planned; just a quick note at the end that he would be wearing a suit. You figured this was a hint for you to dress up as well.

Was Baekhyun taking you some place fancy? Your curiosity was positively burning and Baekhyun had been acting super weird around you lately.

Whenever you’d come into a room he was already occupying he would make up some excuse why he had to leave it and vanish inside his room to carry on with his highly secretive behavior. Whenever you went into his room he would spin in his chair toward the door with what you were positive was a caught red handed look on his face. It was like you had just caught him watching porn, only you’d caught glimpses of his screen before he quickly hit a keyboard command to clear out the screen and you didn't see a single boob.

After the first time, you’d made it a point to barge into his room often, just to see the surprised look on his face; you did it all for that gasp of air, the frantic fingers of panic on the keyboard, and the trembling hand over his chest as he clutched his pearls. All you caught flashes of were just regular looking websites. Regular text and regular pictures. You saw some blues, you saw some greens. You definitely didn't see the incriminating black and yellow theme of everyone’s favorite adult website. There was nary a penetrative moan to be heard through his speakers. The entire thing brought you great joy. The man was acting so odd and honestly he was getting your hopes up for a fantastically mind blowing date on Saturday. You’d already picked out your dress, heels, and jewelry and had been having a very hard time tolerating the ever so tedious passage of time.

By the time Saturday rolled around you were a wreck of nerves; though you weren’t exactly sure why you were so anxious. It was probably his recent fretting and obsessive preparations that had rubbed off on you. You’d decided to take it easier on him today. He’d obviously been working very hard on this assignment once given the dangling carrot of a good grade to be awarded at the end and if there was one thing you knew about Baekhyun, it was how much he strived to achieve perfection in his academic performance. You’d provided the materials. He’d obviously been studying and go-time was quickly approaching.

You took your time getting ready, soaking in your bathtub to kill some of the dull waiting hours before he was due to pick you up. By the time you were scrubbed, rinsed, shaved, moisturized, plucked, preened, coiffed, and scented to your satisfaction, you had only a half an hour to slip up the straps on the fancy fitted cocktail dress and check your reflection in the full length mirror. It was fitted and had a deep plunging neckline. It accentuated the best parts of your figure and the high slit that landed over your upper thigh showed just enough skin to make you feel sexy.

With your heels you were ready to go; feeling about as pretty as you had in a long while. The silliest little fantasy swam through your head as you spun in front of the mirror and it brought just a little warmth to your cheeks as you allowed it to play out. The idea that he would find you so lovely, so irresistible, that even the iron willed man with his self control like a steel trap would lose himself in the slow blinks of your lashes and drown in the pools of your eyes for just one night.

When you lightly slapped a palm over your cheek, it was to ground yourself. This was fake. Everything that happened tonight would be the result of careful calculations and applications of behaviors modeled in text books that he had studied all week long. It was a date with Baekhyun, but it wouldn't really be an accurate representation of the Baekhyun that you know so well.

You knew he would follow a script. He would perform as a perfect gentleman and you would play along, knowing that when he brought you home you would get a gentle hug and a thanks for sharing your knowledge with him and you would close your bedroom door and he would return to his bedroom door and life as you know it would simply fall back into place as it should remain unchanged for however long it took for you to get back on your feet, perhaps get a place of your own not too far away from him; although this neighborhood was very expensive, you’d settle for one or two subways stops away if it meant you could visit your best friend often and see him living out the life he deserved with someone who was worthy of his love.

Tonight, you will enjoy. But you would not allow your emotions to betray your rational mind. You would enjoy it and then it would be over and Baekhyun would have the skill set to ask out Mia, or whoever else he set his mind on asking out.

Your quiet self assurance was interrupted by two soft knocks on your bedroom door and your hands were trembling as you grabbed your handbag that had your cell phone, a tube of lipstick for touch-ups and a few just in case items you were always taught to carry with you, you know, just in case.

You’d reached the door and swung it open with a beaming smile on your face.

Your date was here. Baekhyun was here. It was Peanut.

A smile that quickly transformed into what you were sure was a gaping opening in your face resembling some aquatic animal and you found yourself gazing upon, frankly, an expertly styled exquisitely handsome real life man, who was wearing Byun Baekhyun’s face and smile.

Despite seeing him standing before you with your own two eyes, your brain was having trouble reconciling the two; your harmless roommate and the man who stood before you wearing a crisp suit jacket that he filled out shockingly well, a fashionable collarless dress shirt that looked like it came from some fancy boutique from downtown, fitted dress slacks that you tried your best not to linger on for too long, and were his shoes Italian? You were pretty sure they were Italian. More than just the clothes, his hair was different. He’d gone and had something done to his hair! Lord, you saw slight waves and a deliberate styling by an expert hand with just a bit of his forehead visible. Oh he looked so lovely with this hair style.

You remembered to close your mouth, but only after the realization dawning on you that he hadn’t said anything to you as you silently admired how beautiful he looked standing in his fancy suit looking like at least a million bucks.

You knew...you knew he was an attractive man. You’d have plenty of glimpses of it again and again, freshly reminded of it during that photo shoot late that night. You’d even known he worked out and had had plenty of chances to ogle the muscles on his arms and chest when he just woke up and would wander out shirtless for a drink of water. You knew that the entire shape of this man was the kind of handsome that you had to make conscious decisions to ignore. You’d forced yourself to look away plenty of times in the past. Still, the Baekhyun who stood here today, the one who had his lips parted as he stared into your eyes now after what you were certain was a head to toe, slow as hell, full body appreciation of all of your preparations to get ready for tonight, this Baekhyun was, for lack of a better word, he was sexy as all hell.

For the first time since you began this project; these lessons in dating, you felt like you might actually be in some sort of trouble.

Baekhyun spoke at last and it was the softest whisper. He said your name. Not Bug, not stupid or dummy or stinky which he called you sometimes even though you knew, you fucking knew you always smelled amazing. You went out of your way to smell great. The sound of your name on his voice softened the shock in your face and you felt a smile pull at your lips.

And so you smiled at him and watched the slow but complete smile that manifested on his pretty face.

“Hi,” he said with a blink of his bright eyes.

“Hi Baek,” you said. Your heart was racing.

He pivoted on his (Italian!) shoes and extended a bent elbow toward you and you slipped a hand around his arm.

He was doing so well. Each step you took through your shared home felt new. You had a hard time keeping from watching the side of his face and each glance you made was greeted with the light touch of his eyes as he met your eyes with his own.

Moments blurred. He ticked all the boxes, of course. He opened your door, closed it quietly behind you once you were inside. Even helped you with the seatbelt, much to the dismay of your racing heartbeat when he reached over to pull the red strap across you, careful to keep his hands well away from touching any of your actual body as he did it. The true devastation hit you when, all closed up inside the dark car in the silent moments before he started the engine and the intoxicating smell of him reached your nose.

This was a new smell. Baekhyun had gone to the salon, gone shopping for expensive new clothes, and was also wearing what had to be the best smelling cologne you had ever experienced in person.

“You smell really good,” you said without looking at him and your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your handbag to keep your mind working.

“So do you,” he said followed by an inhale that you were certain sounded just a little thready and he was steering the car through lanes and turns of a parking garage to exit the building.

His destination was the kind of fancy dream-like restaurant that you saw only in movies. The sun would be setting soon and you were led to a rooftop terrace with a view over the city and a single table set for two. You followed the pleasantly clean woman and lingering just behind you, Baekhyun silently fell behind one or two steps. A glance behind woke him up from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he closed the distance with two larger steps and a shy smile on his lips.

The waitstaff worked like ninjas. Glasses were refilled as if by magic and course after course of delicious food appeared before you as you watched the sunset over the horizon and when the light faded enough, the soft glow of twinkle lights illuminated the view around you.

The dinner was delicious and the scenery was breathtaking and that alone would have given him full marks for such a lovely evening out, but Byun Baekhyun was proving to be an overachiever as he started to talk to you. He was asking you open-ended questions, pulling conversation easily from you and you found yourself giggling and laughing as he joked in response or told you some funny anecdotes from his childhood that he knew you would love.

By the time dessert arrived you were pretty certain you were drunk despite half of the wine that remained back in your glass. Baekhyun, ever the stickler for vehicle safety had stuck to soft drinks and when he excused himself for the restrooms, you waited patiently under the glowing lights as you daydreamed about the genuine brightness you were certain you saw in his smiles. Had the twinkle in his eyes been just a reflection of this place? Everything about him tonight felt so real. You’d read through the same book he read through and you couldn’t recall him using a single recycled phrase or conversation point during dinner.

Maybe he was just that good of a student.

A noise startled you from behind and you jumped when a single red rose was laid on the table in front of you.

A rose. Baekhyun had brought you back a rose from somewhere; maybe he stole it from the elaborate flower arrangements you passed on the way in.

“Where did you get this?” You mused as you smelled his sweet offering and he shrugged and tugged at the top button of his shirt, undoing it and slipping slim fingers down to undo the second button as well. Your eyes watched the action and weirdly the fragrance from the rose smelled sweeter than the first time you smelled it.

“I just had it,” he said cryptically with another charming and blinding smile.

“Ready to go? We have one more place to visit.”

The next place he took you was even more magical than the fancy restaurant. The parking lot was nearly empty and when he opened your door he was fussing around with a small bag in the backseat of his car. He pulled out a pair of black ballet flats and you watched in awe as the man actually kneeled down on the pavement in front of you to carefully slip your heels off of your feet and slip on the comfortable shoes.

While they did not look anywhere near as sexy as the heels did, you instantly understood the need for a change.

Baekhyun had brought you to an aquarium with what looked like miles and miles of indoor and outdoor paths to walk through with tunnels traveling through the biggest tanks of aquatic sea life you’d ever seen.

You were instantly hypnotized by the deep sea exhibits that seemed to take you for miles and miles below the surface of the ocean where the sea life grew weirder and the lighting grew darker and dimmer the further down you traveled. Here at depths difficult to wrap your brain around the fish and sea creatures have adapted to freezing waters and a bleak existence without any light at all. Many had their own light sources. The bioluminescent exhibits sparkled and twinkled like the stars in the sky out in the country. You saw entire universes all around you.

Baekhyun was as enraptured as you were and spent his time carefully reading each exhibit’s information card out loud as he stared with his mouth open in awe at the different creatures. There were hundreds of different species of fishes, beautiful ones and downright creepy ugly things from the very bottom of the oceans; endangered species too; the sleepy eyes of the sea turtles were your favorites and the impressions Baekhyun made of their swimming faces made you cackle with laughter. Bright lights illuminated meters of corals of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and you honestly felt like you’d entered another planet when you both walked into the jellyfish halls.

They glowed and flowed, bounced and danced, and moved like a dream. You found yourself hypnotized as you stared at the biggest tank full of them for long enough for Baekhyun to make three circles around waiting for you to follow him out of this room so he could go see the sharks.

You knew the sharks were coming. You’d had a look at the map. And while you didn't necessarily dislike them, their huge sizes and razor sharp teeth always gave you the heebie-jeebies. The jellies were just so comfortable to look at and so relaxing.

It took some coaxing from Baekhyun, and maybe even a little tiny push at the back of your shoulders to get your feet to move and you lingered a bit long in the dark hallway that connects the two exhibits.

You just felt that maybe, the sharks could wait just a little bit longer to meet you.

He’d noticed right away and you opened up your eyes that you’d closed up for a little relaxing session when you felt the tips of his fingers running along the palm of your hand.

He gripped lightly at first, and then shifted your hand within his and he began walking forward in that dark hallway with you trailing behind him.

Baekhyun touched you sometimes. This was something that he did, on occasion. During a scary movie when you’d jumped too many times, or when you both walked through a crowded place and he didn't want you to wander off, he would occasionally hold your hand. This wasn’t something new to you.

However your heart was beating hard in your chest and the warmth of his hand coupled with the firmness with which he held you felt so damn nice you were having trouble focusing on anything else except for your own shallow breathing and racing heartbeat — and his hand holding yours.

Sharks swam at a gentle languid pace. Clearly at ease and very well fed here in their homes, there didn't seem to be very much murder and feasting happening at all. Hammerheads, tiger sharks, something uglier than any other creature you had ever seen that came from The Midnight Zone of the deepest parts and with each creature that swam overhead, or beside you, or creeped up from somewhere behind you, Baekhyun would turn to face you and take two or three steps backwards as he pulled you through it, your hand held securely inside of his. He would smile at you that debilitating smile, and tilt his head and call you a scary cat or a big baby and you would laugh and roll your eyes and deny that you were even a little bit scared of anything at all.

All was going well. You were very well taken care of and felt very secure inside this tiny tunnel at the bottom fo the ocean and you’d noticed this time when Baekhyun had turned around to look at you with a bright smile that smile wavered just a touch and his eyes seemed to focus on something that was coming up from behind.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you turned to see what he saw.

Baekhyun moved quickly then, moving both of his hands up to reach for your face he pulled your head forward and moved his own face close to yours. You felt the warmth of his forehead lean against yours for a moment and you could not see around or behind you with his hands placed so carefully on the sides of your head like this.

You knew what it was. It had to be something huge and terrifying, maybe even something with fresh blood still on it’s teeth. A Great White. The giant monster from the movie Jaws that you had watched with him once not realizing just how scary it would be and you spent most of the film curled up under his arm wincing at the horrors you saw on the screen.

“Hey Peanut,” you said softly while looking up close into his eyes. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face. His smell, that new smell of his smelled even better this close to his skin.

“Hey LoveBug,” he said with a gentle smile and you knew based on the use of this carefully reserved nickname for emergencies that it was exactly as you had feared. A Great White, chomping on the remains of the cutest crying baby penguin. The fluffiest one with its whole life ahead of it.

Baekhyun was safe though. Baekhyun was warm and he was here to protect you. You would be okay, you knew it.

“Is it gone yet?” You asked after what felt like the average time for a fish that size to swim away and you noticed something. It was a look, just a glance. Baekhyun’s eyes floated a bit and the warm breath you felt coming from him was delivered in quicker puffs through his parted lips.

When he licked his lips, you could not help it, your eyes caught the motion as his tongue ran over his bottom lip and left wetness behind and by the time you realized what you had done — where you had looked — you had already done it, your stubborn eyes had already looked and in your mind a vivid replay was happening. You felt too much. This was too much. This was supposed to be fake. Why did he have to smell so fucking good and why was he so aware of every tiny detail about you he knew when something would overwhelm you and ruin your mood, so he used his own body to shield you from it and protect you. You cautiously pulled your eyes back up only to find him blinking too fast and he was dropping his hands from your face as he took a step back and away from the stifling closeness.

You were dizzy. You felt it all over. Your heart was racing and the warmth you felt traveling through your body sent waves through you. You had to rub lightly over your forearms to smooth out the goosebumps and Baekhyun was no longer facing you, but was staring off into the literal depths of the cold black ocean and you took a while to recover enough to walk by him toward the exit of the aquarium and back into the darkened city streets you knew as the real world.

The walk back to the car was quiet and had an odd flavor about it. You both could feel the end coming. It had been a wonderful date. You’d spent hours, just the two of you talking and laughing and exploring literally new worlds you hadn’t before experienced. You felt a sudden but definite melancholy to see the fancy circles that made up the logo of his car.

“Hey, you want to take a walk?” Baekhyun’s voice halted your steps and you turned back to see him standing with a hand in his pocket, fidgeting in hidden, likely with the key fob to his car, and a new sort of nervous flush on his cheeks that you hadn’t seen since he first showed up at your bedroom door looking like a dashing Prince Charming ready to sweep you off your feet.

“Sure,” you said, meaning every bit of it and secretly extremely thankful that this evening wasn’t over yet.

The walk was peaceful. It was a bit chilly tonight and you didn’t even resist when you felt the warmth of the coat jacket he placed over your shoulders. You thought you’d become used to the smell of him by now, but clearly you were incapable of ever getting used to his smell.

The streets were mostly empty now that the night had grown stale and you walked side by side passing various touristy shops that had long since closed up for the evening. Ahead you could see a small street side cafe that sold warm teas and coffees and Baekhyun was pulling out his wallet before you even had the chance to look at him with hopeful delight all over your face. He ordered two hot coffees and you danced and celebrated when he handed the first one to you.

It warmed you from the inside and you paid no mind to the smudges of lipstick all over the white lid of your cup. The hot drink made you happy and you could see your breath like a dragon in the chilly night air around you. Each puff made Baekhyun smile and when he’d taken a particularly big drink from his cup he pulled his head back and puffed out three perfectly formed rings of warm air into the color air above his head. The rings grew and then faded quickly but you were so excited to see his trick that you made him do it again and again until he was puffing and out of breath and laughing too much for any more cool rings to form. This man was full of secrets. Absolutely full of them!

The night was winding on. You could feel the lateness in your limbs and you’d long since finished your drinks and dropped your paper cups into a street side trash can. Your feet, you found were protesting. It wasn’t that they ached or hurt or anything like that. You weren't even that tired. You were just having trouble with the idea of this ending and the night being over.

Everything had to end eventually. You didn't even pout at all when he pulled open your door. You just climbed in and sat down, fastening your own seatbelt this time with a sense of finality looming in your mind along with a wagging finger that quietly scolded you for letting your guard down during this date.

The drive back home was quiet. He didn't even turn on the radio and even though he drove with one hand, he held his other hand firm atop his thigh.

The small touches and stolen glances were over. The date was over. He had done very well. You were thoroughly swept off your feet and his grade would be an A+. You would go back to your room and go to sleep and tomorrow morning when you woke up you’d find him back to his usual antics and maybe, maybe you’d even get him to ask Mia out on a date.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and the familiar landmarks outside your apartment building called you back home. Baekhyun pulled into the parking garage and you did not wait for him to round the hood of the car to reach your door, you simply opened it yourself and pushed through it.

Baekhyun did well. You had given him a task and he’d done it. He deserved all the praise and recognition for a job well done. He’d taken it seriously just as he said he would. This dark mood that had suddenly come over you could not show. You shouldn’t do this to him.

You cared for him too much to ruin this sweet evening.

You loved him too much. This quiet secret usually echoed around inside of your heart and you winced to hear it peaking it’s way up into your running thoughts.

The apartment was dark and you walked through it easily, knowing exactly where you could walk without bumping into anything and he didn’t turn on any lights as he walked closely behind you. He hadn’t said anything to you on the drive home, nor did he speak right now as he walked you back to your bedroom door where he had picked you up.

You turned to face him now. You pushed a smile up to your lips and his face was mostly in the darkness, barely lit with the city lights from the window.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Baekhyun. It was perfect. You were perfect. Seriously, you are amazing.”

You leaned before he did and you felt the staggered response from his limbs as he wrapped both of his arms around your shoulders for the hug.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he whispered against your ear and when you pulled out of the hug, your small smile was not returned. You could see enough of his face to see that he did not smile at you now.

Your hand was on your door and you turned and stepped inside, thankful that you had left your small table lamp on. The room was warm and inviting and you closed the door behind you with a soft click that sounded exactly like clapperboard snapped to signal the end of a movie scene. You could almost hear a director somewhere yelling cut. Everybody clapped for the job well done. All the actors could now go home. It was over.

Your shoes were off. You’d pulled off the earrings and had taken off your necklace and the delicate tennis bracelet’s clasp was so tiny you had to try a few times to get it open so you could take it off.

When you reached up to slip the strap of your dress off your shoulders a tiny sound interrupted you. It was almost like a knocking, but it was so soft you had to listen carefully to hear if it repeated again.

It did not, but you could not shake that feeling that it had happened and out of genuine curiosity you walked across your bedroom and pulled your bedroom door open.

Someone was there; Baekhyun was there, standing in nearly the exact same position as he had been, wearing the same clothes. The only difference was the sight mess to his hair and the definite pink shade you saw on his face even in the dim lighting from the windows.

“Peanut?” You couldn’t imagine what this was. He was finished. The assignment was finished and he had done perfectly, you’d said so already...but, his eyes. You caught that same look that you’d seen on him many times before. It was a look of hard determination that propelled him forward when he dove into some new and difficult project he had to master. If you had to give it a name, you’d call it his passion. The passion he had inside of him to do things right. To be perfect.

“I said I would take it seriously,” he said in a well controlled voice and you shook your head, not understanding what he meant. Did he have some regrets about how the night went? Did he feel that he had somehow failed to live up to the requirements you’d set forth for him as his teacher?

“The date, I told you I would.” He wasn't clarifying anything with his words.

It was then that he moved.

His hands were up and Baekhyun took a step closer to where you stood confused and surprised at the threshold of your bedroom door. He reached for you with both hands and you felt the warmth of his palms on your cheeks at the same time as you felt the exhale from his parted lips against your mouth. It happened in a single moment. His lips connected with yours and you gasped in a surprised breath. Baekhyun kissed you. His lips were on yours and he held your face tightly between both of his hands as he did it. This was it. This was his goodnight kiss at your front door. This was the end of the date.

You could just make out the ultra up close view of him, his fluffed up hair, the smoothness of his forehead, his eyes closed up tight and dark eyelashes spread over his cheeks and it was all a big blur and so you closed your eyes and your heart raged noisily inside of your chest with the sudden need you felt for this to happen.

Your own lips parted and you felt the tilt of his head as his bottom lip pushed out slipping perfectly between your own and you could not stop it. You could not control the tightness with which your hands clung to the cotton of his dress shirt and pulled him toward you. You could not contain the way his tongue brushed lightly against your own and the way you reacted to it. The light moan that escaped from your throat and bounced around inside of his mouth. The light draw you felt on your lip as he pulled lightly and sucked on your lip as he did it. The final pull was him pulling away.

He ended the kiss with a step backward and a drop of his hands from your face.

He had kissed you and you most definitely had kissed him back. The labored breathing you struggled to contain did nothing for the dizziness.

“Goodnight,” he said with a roughness on his voice; plus the blown out look in his eyes was telling you of many forbidden things that he was running from now. Things that even he knew were a very bad idea.

This had been fake. This was supposed to be a lesson.

You stood at your doorway and watched him disappear into his bedroom and after standing frozen in your doorway you had no choice but to return to the quiet glowing comfort of your own bedroom and close your door too.

Your hands were shaking and you felt the trembling all over you as you looked around at the place you called home. The place you loved more than anything in the world except for maybe that man who was likely facing a very similar struggle behind his own closed bedroom door.

The only difference was just how much you had to lose if you gave in.

You loved him. You knew it deep down inside of your soul. It had been buried for so long deep in the frozen depths of your ocean that you thought it would never surface and consume you, yet now you knew you’d been a fool.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @totallynerdstuff @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer @uhobob

#Baekhyun #Exo #Baekhyun fic #Exo fic #Baekhyun fanfiction #Exo fanfiction #Baekhyun fluff #Baekhyun smut #Exo fluff #exo smut #Baekhyun scenario #exo scenario #baekhyun series #exo series

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aot-brainrot · 3 years

Text

Spartacus ~ Hotchniss x Reader

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), restraints (handcuffs), edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, degradation, mild choking, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x Emily Prentiss. (polyamorous triad).

Criminal Minds Discord Server

Aaron had been tense all week. Between work, wrangling Jack, and then still having to find the time and energy to show some attention to me and Emily, it was completely wearing him out. On Friday night, when they had come home from work, I offered to make dinner for us while they went to shower and change into comfortable clothes. After dinner, Emily took Jack up to bed and tucked him in for the night, meanwhile, I sent Hotch up to bed. I didn’t want either of them to have to put any work into anything this weekend— especially Hotch. He deserved a break. I mean, we all did, but he did the most out of the three of us, and I could tell that it was really getting to him. So, my plan was to keep them in bed, or at least the house, for as long as I could. It started with making sure that he went upstairs while I cleaned the dishes and the kitchen.

As I was finishing up, I heard Emily coming down the stairs. I turned, my hands covered in soapy water, pointing back to the stairs, insisting that she let me do this on my own. For once, I just wanted to do something for them and not have one of them argue about it or pull the Dom card in order to make sure I wasn’t alone. Just this once. I wanted to make this weekend about them. That wasn’t too much to ask, right? Yeah, well, Emily didn’t seem to get the memo, because even though I practically ordered her to go back upstairs, she only grinned and then joined me at the sink. She didn’t help me, to be fair. She wrapped her arms around me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and she started nibbling on my earlobe as she watched me wash all of the dishes one by one.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

Her hands started wandering, making me tense up and freeze. “Don’t stop.” So, that was how it was going to be. I finally got around to doing chores, and her game was to distract me. What would Aaron say? Truth be told, he’d be proud of me, however, he would scold Emily for getting me worked up on purpose so that I would abandon the task of cleaning up the kitchen. “The sooner you finish, the sooner we can go upstairs.”

“We can’t tonight. He’s tired.”

“No, he’s just stressed. But you know what helps with stress…” Her hand made its way between my thighs, her palm pressing against my clit until I let out a gasp. “I said, don’t stop.” I started washing the dishes faster. “Good girl.” She put her fingers over my clothed clit now in order to add more stimulation, but still not enough to get me anywhere close to the edge. It was barely enough to just tell me that I needed her. “I think I might know a way to make Sir relax… Do you want to know my idea?” I nodded. “Answer me.” Her other hand grabbed my cheeks roughly.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She released my face. “I think that if we teamed up against him, he wouldn’t be able to stop us from finally topping him. I’ve always wanted to, but he’s too damn stubborn about it. But together…” She chuckled wickedly in my ear. “He’d be our little mess.”

I whined slightly in response to her words. I could just picture Aaron writhing underneath us as we pinned and fucked him. Fuck. “He wouldn’t like that.”

“No?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would be breaking about a thousand rules.”

“Not if we both take the heat for it.” Her fingers pressed harder. “It’s like Spartacus. He can’t punish the both of us.”

Jack’s plastic cup clattered in the sink when I dropped it in order to grab onto the counter and hunch forward. “Fuck.”

“Does that feel too good, baby?” she teased, pulling her hand away from me. I rolled my hips back against her, a silent plea for more, but she didn’t give in. “What do you think about my idea?”

I was literally too fucked to think about anything. Up, down, left, right— none of it mattered until I felt her touch again. If it meant giving into her terrible plan that would only end up with both of us getting punished— something she was sure wouldn’t happen— I would do it just to encourage her to put her hands on me. So, I nodded. “I like it, Mistress.” I left the rest of the dishes for the morning. I turned to face her. “As long as we really do it together. No giving into whatever he says or does.”

Emily grinned. “That’s it, baby girl.” She held my face steady with her index finger and thumb on my chin so that she could kiss me roughly. When I started leaning into her, kissing her back with even more eagerness and excitement, she pulled away. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand before leading me through the house. “Play it smooth. Get into bed with him and try cuddling close enough so that you can grab his hands when I give the signal.”

“What’s the signal?”

“When I come out of the bathroom, I’ll lean over to kiss him, which will distract him. That’s the signal. Just pin his hands and I’ll do the rest.” We approached the second floor of the house. I stopped, tugging at her hand slightly to warn her that I wasn’t taking another step yet. “What is it?” she asked, worried.

I searched her eyes. “I just really fucking love you.”

Her smile returned. “I love you, too.”

With that out of the way, Emily continued to lead me, walking us down the hallway and to our bedroom. As we walked in, she released my hand so that she could go to the bathroom and I could close the door. Aaron was reading a book on our bed. I thought he would have been trying to fall asleep already considering I thought he was exhausted, but Emily told me that she didn’t think he was tired at all, and this was proving it. My hope was that he was still somewhat tired. If he was off his game enough, it would make my job of pinning him down only that much easier. If I failed to do the one thing Emily had tasked me with, this whole mutiny thing was going to come back to bite us in the ass, which I really didn’t need when the whole point was to help Aaron relax for a bit. Losing control did that. The best part about being submissive was that I could just turn off my mind and leave everything up to Emily and Aaron. While Emily was a switch between being a Dom for me and a submissive to Aaron, he was strictly a Dominant, which probably took a toll on him. Considering the week he had, he probably just needed to turn off his mind. I knew all too well what that felt like.

I crawled into bed with him. He released the book with one hand so that he could drape it around me when he realized that I was going to cuddle against his side and under his arm. He was wearing his pajamas now. The soft touch of his navy blue sleep shirt rubbed against my cheek as I laid down and nuzzled against him, feeling how warm and tense he was. He rested his hand on my hip. As I laid there, my chest pressed against his side, the two of us tangled in each other’s arms, I debated how I was going to handle grabbing his hands. He was hardly sitting up, enough room between his head and the headboard for me to hold his wrists above him; but the real question was how the fuck was I going to get them there? His hands were on me and his book, which meant that I was going to have to contort in some ridiculous way in order to grab both of them while gaining the upper hand to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

And then I heard the bathroom door open. Well, it was now or never. I craned my neck slightly to get a look at Emily who was walking out of the bathroom, now dressed in only her lingerie, and her hair had been teased a bit. I suddenly understood just how far she was going to make sure that Aaron would be distracted enough to make catching him off guard easy, and also that she wanted to make it very clear to him that even though I was in on this little plan of hers, she would be the one to take all of the blame for this if he ever decided to punish us for this.

“What’s that for?” Aaron asked, peeking up at her through his lashes.

Emily shrugged nonchalantly as she made her way towards the bed, and then crawled on until she was straddling his thighs. “It got too hot.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure.”

I started running my hands over his chest. I could feel his abs flexing in response to the sensitive and unexpected touch. Emily looked at me briefly. “Aren’t you hot, baby?” she pouted, leaning forward to kiss him. He set his book to the side. Just as she dodged his lips at the very last second, she leaned back, and I raced to reach for both of his hands and pin them over his head.

Aaron’s eyes widened. “What the fuck—” Emily cut him off by kissing away his words. He moaned slightly. She barely pulled away from him, but she adjusted so that her weight on his thighs was forcing him to hold still. He tugged against my hold, but I was sitting up now, which gave me a little more strength than he had— though he was naturally strong because of how much he worked out. “Stop it,” he commanded us both with a growled. Emily shook her head and bit her lip. “Fucking brat—” He let out a loud moan when Emily passed her palm over his length that was growing hard in his flannel pajama pants. His head was thrown back against the pillow now, giving his eyesight a clear shot to me, allowing me to see the mix of anger and pleasure that was brewing in his iris’. “Y/N, stop this.”

I looked at Emily. She reassured me with a nod. “Sorry, Sir,” I apologized while shifting on the bed until I was above him, my calves sitting on his wrists to hold him down. I blushed at Emily. “Did I do well, Mistress?”

“You did so well, baby girl.” She pulled me in for a kiss.

Aaron struggled beneath us. “I swear to god, the two of you are going to regret this—”

“Shh…” Emily cooed to him. “We just want to make you feel good, baby.”

“Sir,” he corrected through gritted teeth.

“Not right now.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Emily passed her palm over him again. “I said not right now, baby. We’ve got the upper hand here, not you.”

Aaron looked up at me. “I’ll make you a deal. Both of you. If you stop this now, I won’t punish you later.”

“Not a chance.”

But I wasn’t so sure. The deal itself sounded enticing. I mean, we hadn’t gone too far yet, and we hadn’t really done enough to deserve any kind of punishment. Okay, maybe we deserved a few spanks— but that was it, and I could live with that. However, if Emily and I decided to proceed, things would be nice for a while like a calm before the storm since it would be pleasurable for all of us, but the second we were caught off guard, too, Aaron was going to get us back for whatever we would inevitably do to him. But I promised Emily that we would do this together. I made her promise that we wouldn’t give into anything he would say or do. That included deals. If she wasn’t going to give into her tricks, then neither was I, as skeptical as I was.

“Sorry, Sir,” I said again, this time with a teasing grin.

“Fine,” he groaned, rolling his hips in response to the way that Emily was playing with him. “Fine… Then, whatever Emily does to me, Y/N, just know that I’ll punish you for it.”

I froze. “What? That’s not fair.”

He grinned. “Then, you better get her to stop….” he trailed off when she reached into his pants and grabbed ahold of his erection. “Fuck—”

I felt his hands knead my thighs since that was just about as far as he could move, and since he wasn’t going to get out of it, he must have figured that the least he could do was play with me. It worked. The slightest touch set me off, making me feel the throbbing and heat growing between my legs. In fact, it was impossible to not notice it, because every time Emily did something to Aaron, his grip hardened on me, making me practically fall forward until Emily caught me. With one hand, Em was holding my chin to keep me upright, but her other hand was incredibly preoccupied with slowly teasing every inch of Aaron’s cock, twitching in her palm in response to the slow, sensitive, and calculated movements she was making. It was barely enough. Just like downstairs when she was teasing me, she hardly did enough to just get him worked up. But the way he was squirming under me was a tell that he loved it.

Emily kissed my cheek. “Touch yourself, baby girl.”

“Don’t fucking think about it,” Aaron hissed under me.

“It’s okay,” she cooed in my ear.

Well, shit. On one hand, she had just given me permission to the one thing I wanted most— which she knew would still prove to be a task considering I was still wearing all of my clothes, and my legs were a little preoccupied with holding Aaron down. But, on the other hand, Aaron was not having it. The second I’d lean back ever so slightly to listen to Emily’s command, I’d be setting myself up to get punished later. Eh. C'est la vie, right?

So, I reclined, resting my back against the headboard, making sure that my calves (practically my knees, at this point) were still trapping Aaron. As I snuck my fingers past the waistband of my pants and underwear, I hissed and bucked my hips. Emily smirked. The second my fingers made contact with my clit, I let my head fall back against the wall and my eyes screwed shut as a moan fell from my lips. Emily had made me so wet downstairs. I hadn’t really noticed the full extent of it until I was there, rubbing it around the sensitive nub that was begging for more attention so that I could inevitably cum. I gripped Aaron’s hair with my free hand.

“Don’t cum yet, baby. There’s no fun in that,” Emily said.

I pouted while looking at her. She was working faster on Aaron’s length now, even going as far as to shifting around on the bed so that she could lick his tip ever so slowly. He thrashed.

“Em, stop,” he begged lightly.

“Aw,” she sulked sarcastically on his behalf, following it up with a wicked chuckle. “Does that feel good?” He nodded his head and bucked up into her hand. Emily immediately pulled her touch away, tsking her tongue at his disobedience, but still admiring the way his cock twitched and stood at attention naturally. “Do you think he deserves to cum?” she asked me. I couldn’t seem to respond because all of my focus had shifted onto the way I was getting close to my orgasm, and I was worried that with the way my legs were shaking, Aaron could potentially take advantage of that weakness in order to get out of this. Emily wasn’t having it, though. “Answer me, slut,” she demanded, slapping my thigh.

I shook my head. “No, Mistress. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Aaron growled lightly in response to the way we were talking about him like he wasn’t even in the room, which was demeaning on its own, but then to add discussing his orgasm denial on top of that… well… maybe we just shouldn’t let him out of this. Ever. It was safer that way in the long run. Still, when Emily lowered her mouth onto him, it shocked me when he grabbed my thighs as hard as he could. I whimpered. I was getting really close. The closer my peak got, the faster I went, racing towards my own orgasm that I had been so desperate for ever since Emily put her hands on me downstairs. I tightened my grip in Aaron’s hair.

“Mistr—” I moaned while rolling my hips. “Mistress…” I was a panting, breathless, moaning mess; and neither of them had even done anything else to me yet. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when they would finally put their hands on me and put in this same amount of effort— if not more, actually. “May I cum, please?”

“Cum,” she quickly answered after releasing Aaron from her mouth.

I let out gasps and curses as I tipped over the edge. My walls contracted around nothing, the empty feeling plainly obvious to me in that moment, but it didn’t deter me from pushing through my powerful orgasm. I let out a quiet, almost helpless scream, “Thank you, Mistress—”

And then the unexpected happened. Actually, you know what, I should have seen it coming. I suspected earlier that this could present to be a problem later on down the road, but I didn’t think it would be so quick, and I didn’t think that it would be so vicious. One minute, I was falling apart, my whole body giving out in response to my orgasm washing through me, the next thing I knew, Aaron had used my weakness and his strength against me in order to throw me off balance, giving him the chance to flip me over onto the bed, his hands on my thighs holding me so that I didn’t go flying and so that I couldn’t escape. Suddenly, he had one hand on my neck, the other one found Emily’s neck. She paused, eyes wide. I gulped. This was exactly what I had been afraid of. We thought that by teaming up, he would be outnumbered, and with how stressed he was, maybe he would give into our game; but that wasn’t Aaron Hotchner’s style. We should have known. The second an opportunity to switch control had arisen, he took it. I barely even felt my orgasm fade away because I was a little more concerned with his hold that was increasing pressure around my neck.

Aaron pulled Emily around like a rag doll, forcing her to lay down next to me on the bed. We both clawed at his hands, but it didn’t seem to matter, because he wasn’t going to let us go, no matter how much we struggled, because we had refused to let him go only moments ago, no matter how hard he struggled. Touche.

“I warned you,” he said to me.

“Sir—”

“No, no, no. You don’t get to talk. Neither of you do.”

I whimpered and kicked uselessly against the bed. Spartacus. That was the example Emily used downstairs. She said that if we stuck together, there was no way he could choose one to punish over the other— but what she failed to remember was that he had zero qualms with the idea of punishing us both simultaneously or at different points. Telling by the way he was pinning us by our necks, I was going to assume that the time for reckoning had already come, and that meant that we were absolutely fucked; meanwhile, he would get off on whatever torture he had in store for us.

He squeezed our necks until both of our breaths hitched. “Don’t move. Understood?” We both nodded as far as we could, considering his hold. “Good.” He released us roughly. Both Emily and I gasped for breath. As we shivered and coughed away the feeling of his thumb digging into our skin, Aaron shimmied around until he was able to grab ahold of my pants and yank them down my legs. And then went the panties. “Strip each other the rest of the way,” he demanded while getting off the bed. “Now.” He headed into the closet, probably grabbing the black box, if I had to guess.

Emily and I turned to each other. My eyes searched hers for a moment, fear running through both of us— but it was still a good fear that had us excited for what was going to come. Though, maybe we shouldn’t have been too excited. But I just had to ignore what Aaron was doing in the closet so that I could steady my shaky hands and reach out for the clasp of Emily’s lingerie bra. She moved her hair out of the way so that it was easier for me to do while completing the task blindly. She leaned in to kiss me quickly. I melted for a moment just as the clasp came undone, and I inched closer to her, letting her roll over me and pin me down on the bed. Our ankles played with each other as she continued to kiss me roughly and simultaneously slide her bra off her shoulders.

“My— My shirt…” I mumbled against her. We still had to finish stripping each other before Aaron could get back. She pulled away from me just enough so that I could sit up and after she was finished with peeling my shirt off, I could help her wiggle out of her panties. She pushed me back against the mattress the second we were nude. My fingers slid into her hair and twisted into a gentle grip. “He didn’t want us to move.”

“We’re already in trouble. What’s the harm?”

The faster we moved, the more obvious the shaking bed was, encouraging Hotch to come back to find us breaking basically every rule we had. There he was, holding the black box, visibly pissed off. Emily and I didn’t stop. She kept me right where I was, encouraging me to keep touching her and to let her slide her knee between my legs so that I could hump her thigh. When he slammed the black box down on the bed, that was when we finally pulled away-- more like jumped away, to be fair.

“You really wanna help them get off, huh?” Hotch asked, pulling Emily off of me. “Fine.” He tied Emily’s hands behind her back with ease, even though she was trying to fight against him. “Open.” I watched as he gripped her jaw and stuffed her panties into her mouth. She finally stopped fighting-- just long enough for her to pout up at him, begging for mercy in this whole situation, but he wasn’t going to be that nice. “Such a brat.” He spanked her. “How about you?” he asked me, grabbing another length of rope and coming around the bed. “Will you be good for me now?”

I nodded urgently. “Yes, Sir. I promise.”

He pushed me on my side so that he could tie my hands behind my back, too. “Good girl...” He wasn’t as rough with me when he put my panties in my mouth. “The two of you thought it would be so funny to fuck with me. Is it funny now?” Neither of us said anything as we watched him grab a hitachi wand and another length of rope from the box. “I don’t tolerate Y/N being a brat. Ever. You...” he cooed as he hit Emily’s ass again, “I expect it from you, but not my bunny. You’re just a bad influence, I think... A bad influence that needs to be taught a lesson. A lesson about not corrupting my good bunny.”

Hotch worked the toy between me and Emily while ordering us to move as close to each other as possible. I whimpered. I was so close to her, yet with our mouths full and our hands tied, there was no way to touch each other. I hated it. But that was Hotch’s point, I knew that.

“I’m keeping you two like this for at least an hour. The first one to cum goes on no-touch for a week.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him. He knew that I was more sensitive than Emily. She could hold her orgasms back longer and better than I could! That was his other point, though, and I knew that by reminding myself that he was punishing me for everything Em did to him. Fuck.

“Good luck.”

Once the rope was wrapped around mine and Emily’s hips, ensuring that we would stay close, holding the toy in place between us, he turned it on. I jolted and moaned. For some reason, it was tilted in my direction, hitting right against my clit while Emily hardly got everything. Hotch realized what was happening, but he didn’t move it. All he did was tease by telling me that if I didn’t want to cum before her, I needed to figure out a way to make her cum first. So, I cried and rested my head against Emily’s shoulder as I started grinding around, trying to move the toy to face her instead, but all it did was stimulate me further. At least I got it to budge. Now it was against both of us, and she was trying to push it back my way. The friction of our bodies was too much. Everything from the kitchen downstairs to Emily letting me cum a few minutes ago to the alluring thought of trying to make the other cum for Hotch’s game was... it was overwhelming. The more I struggled, the closer I got to my orgasm. I just couldn’t hold it. Emily was so much better at it than I was, and I hated her for that.

“Aw, bunny...” Hotch cooed while laughing. “You’re already close, aren’t you?” He sat at the foot of the bed and kneaded my thigh with his large hand. I nodded helplessly. “Don’t hold back for me, baby. Go on. Cum. Everything you give me today will be the last you get until next week. Don’t you wanna feel good for me?” I nodded again. “Then, cum.”

I cried into my panties and shook against Emily as I came. She kept fighting to move the toy towards me-- not for the sake of the game anymore, but because she wanted to see me struggle more. Very Dom of her.

One orgasm came after another. The more I fought to take the toy away, the worse the overstimulation got, and at some point, I couldn’t even fight back anymore. The toy had found a perfect spot between me and Emily, so as I painfully came again and again, Emily finally tipped over the edge, too; all while Hotch was watching and smirking. He was so proud of himself. He liked watching his subs squirm with pain and pleasure, unable to escape his torture. I shouldn’t have listened to Emily. I knew that this was all a bad idea-- I warned her that something like this would happen, but... but I gave in... and now I couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t until the end of the hour, when I was crying and shaking, that Hotch finally took pity on me. He reached between me and Emily, and he turned off the toy, letting us both brew there in our sweat, cum, and tears. He didn’t untie us, though. He was letting us catch our breath and cuddle while tied and helpless, and that was amusing for him. It wasn’t for us. We couldn’t protest, however, so we waited, and I stared at Emily with a look that said: “I’m never listening to you again.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch #emily prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss imagines #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily #hotchniss #hotchniss imagine #hotchniss smut #reader #sub!reader

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firefly-in-darkness · 3 years

Text

Always

Pairing → Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters → Supernatural

Summary → Y/N is feeling insecure and Dean doesn’t help, especially when he forgets a special date.

Word Count → 1.9k

Prompt → “It’s always gonna be you.” (bolded) for the writing event hosted by @tvdspngirl314 - happy early birthday!

Warnings → Insecurities, angst to fluff.

Betas → @writethelifeyouwant // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → I needed some hurt/comfort Dean and here he is. Hope you enjoy it! Oh and Happy Valentine’s Day!

A cough caught in your throat at the words falling from Dean’s mouth. He was flirting with the witness, and even though you tried to reason that it was simply to get more information, the thoughts in your head were screaming that he wanted her. That you meant nothing to him, that you were just someone to pass the time until he found someone else.

You tried to focus on the important parts of the conversation, making notes on the little pad of the details needed to work out what monster was wreaking havoc in a small town a few hours away from the bunker.

But you couldn’t. Any other day, you could take Dean flirting with someone to get information but lately, you’d been feeling a little insecure and you’re not sure when it started. Now, watching him flirt with the beautiful creature sat opposite you was enough to darken your thoughts.

And not only was it hard to listen to your boyfriend, but he was also doing it on your anniversary and the international day to celebrate love, Valentine’s Day. You suspected he’d forgotten when you awoke this morning to empty bed and clothes being chucked in your face, some garbled speech about a case down the road. But now, it made your heart ache.

“Thank you, sweetheart, for all of your help,” Dean placed his hand on the woman’s arm, stroking her bicep and giving her his best smile.

“No, thank you, Agent Bonham,” she responded, placing her hand over his.

Dean produced a card from his FBI suit jacket, “It’s Dean. If you need anything, and I mean anything, call me.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach while saying goodbyes to the completely infatuated woman. How could your boyfriend blatantly flirt and give his number to a witness in front of you? The ache in your heart travelled through your veins, your body turning numb as you kept the tears at bay.

A dark cloud fogged your thoughts as the town disappeared behind them and Dean drove them back to the bunker. The leather of the Impala was cold, even though the sun beamed down on them in all its glory.

Dean reached over and laced his fingers between yours. You hadn’t expected it, especially after the advances he had made earlier and you recoiled, unravelling them and pulling your hand into your lap. You chose to stare out of the window at the scenery disappearing as the Impala whipped down the highway, wishing you were back at the Bunker already, wanting to get out of the FBI costume and crawl into bed to hide under the covers.

“Wanna go to the bar for a drink when we get back?” asked Dean, eyes trained on the road.

“I’ve got a headache,” Y/N quietly responded, “you can still go if you want to.”

Dean acknowledged you by cupping the back of your head, stroking it softly as you settled back into the seat. You closed your eyes and let his delicate touch help you drift to sleep.

You pulled the hoodie over your head and padded down the corridor to the library, knowing Dean had already left and deciding to seek distraction in the form of research. Burying your head in books was not your usual choice but it was the only thing you could do to keep your mind from spiralling.

Sam was sat at one of the chairs, of course, and he offered you a soft smile, “Thought you’d be going out with Dean?”

“Not feeling it tonight.” You had sunk into a chair opposite, “Plus, we need to find out what’s going on over there. I don’t think it’s a witch.”

“Dean told me about the witness, and he thinks she’s innocent.” Sam’s eyes flicked between the laptop and you when you didn’t respond. “Y/N.”

“I don’t think she’s as innocent as she makes out. But it’s not related to the case.” You sighed, hurt ricocheted through your chest.

Sam hummed in agreement, his focus back on the laptop and the book open to his side. You pulled one of the unopened books across and pulled your knees up to your chest, an attempt to cocoon yourself into the words written across the pages.

After the fifth attempt to read the same sentence, you pushed the book away and stretched your arms up before hauling yourself out of the chair. Sam caught your eye, a raised eyebrow as he shut the laptop and folded his arms.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bugging you?” Sam asked.

“What are you talking about?” You pretended to continue stretching your body before settling back into the chair.

“You never do research, especially when Dean suggests going to the bar. You have been staring at the same page for half an hour and you won’t stop fidgeting” Sam looked irritated but then he shook his head and gave you a soft smile, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You groaned, Sam wasn’t one to let things go and you knew you’d end up confessing to how you felt, “it’s nothing Sam, I’m just wrapped up in my head.”

Sam gestured for you to carry on and you did just that, explaining what happened at the witness’ house. As you finished, you folded your arms onto the table, resting your chin on them and looking up at him with a small pout.

“I know it’s silly. I just don’t feel good enough for him.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to your face, chewing on the sleeve.

“Of course, you are. I’ve never seen the pair of you happier than when you’re together. Dean adores you.” Sam replied.

“He forgot today. It’s our anniversary.” You mumbled through the material.

A flicker of realisation appeared on his features then disappeared with a soft smile.

“What if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?” You asked, eyes glistening with tears.

Sam looked shocked as if you had grown a second head, “Y/N, that’s ridiculous. It’s always gonna be you for Dean.”

“I don’t know about that Sam,” you replied.

“Well, you should,” Dean spoke from the other side of the room.

You spun in the chair, heart hammering in your chest as he approached with the look of hurt and pain flickering across his features. Words were stuck in your throat and you could feel the tears glistening in your eyes at the sight of your boyfriend.

Dean turned your chair to the side and sat on the one beside you, the legs scraping along the floor as he shifted towards you. The guilt stopped you from looking at him. You realised too late that you shouldn’t have said anything to Sam, and now, you weren’t sure how much of the conversation had been overheard by Dean.

Another chair shuffle across the room caught your attention; Sam leaving the room. Your body sank deeper into the chair, your knees up at your chest once more, chin resting atop to keep yourself safe. From what, you weren’t sure. That’s when you finally looked at Dean.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hello.” You replied, voice breaking.

Dean leant forward and cupped your cheek, “Going to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

His soft voice and the warmth of his calloused hand was enough to make you break. In the blur of your tears, Dean knelt in front of you and pulled your legs down in between his thighs, massaging your calves while hiccups punctured the quiet sobs.

It was embarrassing but you couldn’t handle seeing the pity that would be in Dean’s eyes, but you knew that, sooner or later, he’d want an answer. Calming the heaving in your chest, you looked up at him. But what you saw was far from pity.

Your heart clenched at the red rim of Dean’s eyes and the tear-streaked cheeks. His green gaze was glued to yours and his lower lip trembled slightly as he gave a small smile.

“Dean, why are you crying?” You sniffed.

“You can’t answer a question with another question.” He sniffed too, pulling your hands into his large ones, thumbs softly brushing the back yours.

“I thought you might not be interested in me anymore after earlier.” You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant in preparation for Dean’s rejection.

Dean frowned and frustration seeped into his tone with a crack, “what? How could you think that? I lo-”

He stopped before finishing the sentence you so wanted to hear, your mind whirled with the possibility that he was only going to say it to keep you around and that stopped him.

“Earlier, you were flirting with that woman. You gave her your number and told her that she could call for anything.” You felt meek and vulnerable in telling Dean that this woman made you feel insecure, “she was beautiful, I wouldn’t blame you for that.”

Dean stood up and pulled you up too, “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“Dean.” You whined, but his index finger pressed to your lips.

“You are Y/N. That woman has nothing, nothing, on you. I didn’t mean anything by it, I hoped she’d remember more than she did, and she’d call.” Dean held your face in his palms, searching your eyes for understanding, “For as long as I live, it’s always gonna be you.”

Dean pulled you into a tight hold, chest to chest, his arms clasped behind your back. The warmth soothed the tension in your muscles and your heart. You propped your chin on his chest, looking up to him as he swayed slightly. His lips pressed to the tip of your nose, you wrinkled it in reaction and failed at holding back the giggle.

“I promise to remind you every single day,” Dean whispered, a chaste kiss pressed to your lips before he pulled away again, you followed him and whined at his retreat,

You reached up onto your tiptoes and kissed him then reality came crashing down. He had still forgotten your anniversary and that it was Valentine’s Day. You pulled back and glared at him, untangling yourself from his hold but failed.

“What’s wrong?” Dean frowned at your struggle.

“You forgot.” You hissed, jaw ticking in frustration.

“Forgot what? That it’s our anniversary? And Valentine’s Day?” He smirked.

The tension and your resolve softened as he spoke, but that still didn’t explain why he hadn’t said or done anything. And why the hell was he smirking at you like that?

“I was trying to get you to come to the bar, I was going to make a detour to that diner just out of town. You know, the one with your favourite milkshake.” Dean laughed and laced his fingers between yours, this time you squeezed his hand in anticipation while he led the way to your bedroom. “And because you said you weren’t feeling well, I went and picked it up instead.”

Dean pushed open the door and upon the desk were various food containers, a stack of DVDs and a small box with a red bow on top. You looked through the items, overwhelmed with love and adoration for the man behind you.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, his chest pressed tightly to your back, “I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at Dean’s words. You turned in his hold, certain that he could feel your erratic heart as it slammed against your ribcage, “I love you too Dean.”

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos

Supernatural Tag List: @deanwanddamons / @akshi8278

SPN Fanfic Pond Tag List: @aprofoundbondwithdean / @manawhaat / @thing-you-do-with-that-thing / @nichelle-my-belle-spn-con-blog / @notnaturalanahi / @deanscarlett / @whispersandwhiskerburn / @roxy-davenport / @deathtonormalcy56 / @samsgoddess / @frenchybell / @for-the-love-of-dean / @mysupernaturalfics / @spn-fan-girl-173 / @deandoesthingstome / @jelly-beans-and-gstrings / @fiveleaf / @deansleather / @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname / @waywardjoy / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious / @kayteonline / @supernatural-jackles / @wevegotworktodo / @quiddy-writes / @babypieandwhiskey / @wi-deangirl77 / @deantbh / @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki / @deanwinchesterforpromqueen / @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog / @memariana91 / @plaidstiel-wormstache / @chelsea-winchester / @becs-bunker / @writingbeautifulmen / @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell / @castieltrash1 / @supernaturalyobessed / @ohwritever / @ruined-by-destiel / @inmysparetime0 / @winchester-writes / @zombitch-cas / @maraisabellegrey-blog / @faith-in-dean / @winchestersmolder / @bennyyh / @clueless-gold / @deanwinchesterxreader / @melbelle45 / @winchester-family-business / @4401lnc @there-must-be-a-lock / @just-another-winchester / @canadianjelly / @emoryhemsworth / @cas-backwards-tie / @canadianspnhunter / @mostly-shawn / @sierra-grace1227 / @flamencodiva / @kalesrebellion / @emilyshurley / @deanwanddamons / @ellewritesfix05 / @idreamofplaid / @emptycanvasposts / @itstimetogo / @kickingitwithkirk

#Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester Fic #Supernatural #SPN #SPN Fanfic Pond

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mystic-deep · 3 years

Text

"Whipped Cream" - Part 1 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, some mild swearing near the end, rating will go up due to explicit content in later chapters.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Chef Nanami anyone? Probably the only job that he'd actually enjoy haha. I'm not sure how many parts this will have but I'm not going to rush it, I pretty much have the plot and ending all planned out, let's see how fast we can get there haha. As always, didn't have time to proofread so please don't mind the mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.5k

“Happy Birthday!”

Sitting at a table inside a small restaurant, you looked at your best friend as she handed you a colourful envelop. Money? She wasn’t your mother. A postcard? Too cheap considering she only bought you a bouquet of flowers.

“Open it already!”

Like obeying a command, you opened it and peeked inside. A gift card? How original. You spent days preparing the gift for her birthday and she gets you a gift card. Seeing your disappointed expression, she quickly explained.

“It’s a cooking course! You always said you wanted to attend one but never got the time, I figured if I bought it, then you’d have no choice but to go.”

You took the card out and began to inspect it. The words VIP were written in a golden colour as well as the name of the school you’d be attending.

“It was the most popular course, apparently you have to book it months in advance. I was really lucky since someone dropped out at the last minute.”

“When will I have the time to-”

“Shhhh!” She placed her index finger on your lips in order to shut you up. “The group session is thrice a week and you have twelve lessons in total. It’s after working hours and if for some reason you can’t attend then they can schedule a private lesson for the weekend. Benefit of a VIP and all.” She flipped her hair in a proud way and you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Who says money can’t buy a very expensive and needless cooking course?

The truth was, you loved to cook, it was the only time you felt calm in your otherwise hectic life. You were also pretty good at it but self-taught. You once joked that it would be fun to take some lessons and actually sharpen your skills but that was the point, you were joking. You remember the promise you made to yourself at the beginning of the year that you would go to the gym every day and get in shape. You bought a class pass for a year with a personal trainer and only ended up going for a week or two. You still received reminders weekly that you should be attending since it was already paid.

“Thank you, it’s a really thoughtful gift.” You offered her a smile as you played with the card in your hand. Well, one lesson or two might not take up too much of your time. You were also curios to know why this particular course was so popular.

“You’re welcome! Also, from what I’ve heard but nothing confirmed yet, the chef that’s going to teach you is really good looking.” Her eyes gleamed and you wondered if she was sending you out like a scout, to test the water and if it was good then she’d join as well.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait to be surrounded by an army of housewives.”

Monday afternoon you found yourself at the reception of the cooking school you’d be attending for the next couple of weeks. You had to admit that so far the building looked impressive. There were several classes from what you could tell and the lobby was already pretty crowded.

“Can I help you?”

The pleasant looking receptionist gave you a smile and you handed her your VIP card.

“Yes, I’m here to attend the course with chef Nanami Kento.”

“Oh, Nanami-sensei!” She gleefully took your card and began the registration. “You’re pretty lucky, this is our most popular class. It’s quite unusual for someone to drop out.”

“So I keep hearing.”

She gave you back your card as well as a small bag that contained several items.

“You have here your apron as well as your class schedule and several cooking accessories that you get to keep at the end of the lessons. The class is 10-A, the very last room at the end of the corridor. I hope you enjoy this experience!”

You smiled and thanked her before heading to the classroom. Upon entering you realized that your fears had been justified, the whole room was filled with women ranging from mid-thirties to some ladies that looked in their sixties. Only women, and they all seemed to know each other.

You moved to one of the islands in the back, taking out your apron and putting it on. You had to admit you kind of felt like you were participating in the Great British Bake Off. In terms of gadgets at your disposal, everything was modern and your island was well equipped with everything one might need for the cooking process. You had your very own oven and stove as well as a Kitchen aid and several other utensils. In one of the drawers you found a cutting board as well as a set of knives and several bowls. You were starting to realize why the fee had been so expensive.

“First time here?”

You turned around and nodded sheepishly at a group of older looking women.

“I guess everyone knows each other huh?”

“For most of us this is the second time we’ve taken this course, it’s quite lovely, you learn a lot of things.” You couldn’t help but wonder why they would need to take the exact same course twice. Either they didn’t manage to learn what they were supposed to the first time around or the chef really was thathandsome.

“I’m looking forward to it as well, I want to sharpen my skill and this one came highly recommended.”

“Are you married?” The question came as a punch in the gut and they all looked at you like it was the most normal thing one could ask.

“We didn’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Urm no, married to my work perhaps.” You offered a light chuckle but no one else found it funny.

“Then for whom are you sharpening your skills for? Any children?”

At this point you thought their questions were quite intrusive and rude. Were they perhaps thinking that you were a threat? A young new girl that was going to steal away the attention of their sensei? You were actually starting to get aggravated by their attitude. What happened to solidarity between women?

“I want to sharpen them for myself. No children, just a cat, pretty lucky I suppose.” Their eyes narrowed and you smiled to yourself. Teasing them was proving to be quite fun.

“Oh? Well, you’ll want them when you’re older. Although, you should probably hurry, not much time left to spare.” By this point your hand was itching to slap at least one of them. What an unpleasant bunch of old hags!

You were ready to give a sharp reply when the door of the classroom was opened and your teacher stepped inside. You hated to admit it, you really hated it, but he was indeed handsome. Blonde hair, light coloured eyes, build like a brick wall, sharp features and when he opened his mouth to greet the class, you fawned over his deep voice.

“I’m glad to see some familiar faces…and new ones of course.” His eyes landed on you and you shifted, feeling like a doe caught in the headlights. His presence was quite something, no wonder these women were ready to turn into harpies just for a bit of his attention. Still, it wasn’t enough to win you over. If anything, you felt an instant antipathy towards him-he seemed too arrogant for your taste.

“We’ll start our first day with a test bake. I want to see each and everyone’s level before we begin our lessons.” As he spoke, he neatly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and put his own apron on. You could actually hear sighs going around the room but he seemed unbothered.

“You can bake anything you like, something you’re comfortable and good at.” With that said, he gave you an hour and a half to see what you’d come up with.

You decided on your famous lemon cookies, they were pretty easy to make and every time you baked a batch your friends would fight over it. As you were creaming the butter with the sugar you felt a presence near your station and turned to look at Nanami that was peeking inside the glass bowl.

“What are you making?” Just like that, no introduction, no small talk, right down to business.

“Lemon cookies. They’re-”

“Quite a simple recipe, don’t you think? I wanted to see your level, this is something even a child could bake.” Your heart dropped a little. You weren’t great at taking criticism and you couldn’t stand how those old hangs from before were snickering behind you.

“You said to bake something that we’re good at.”

“So lemon cookies are the only thing you’re good at? Hmm.” With that he left your station and you just stared at his back as he went on to check on someone else. Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment and anger. You were going to shut him up, once he had a taste of your cookies he’d eat his words, as well as the whole batch.

It seemed, however, that the universe was working against you. The batter didn’t have enough time to chill and since you weren’t accustomed to the oven you over-baked them. You stared at the plate of spread lemon cookies, not one looking the same as the other, and chew on your bottom lip.

With your baking time coming to an end, he was walking from one stand to another, mostly complimenting the results. The other women in your class were a giggling mess, thanking him like he had offered salvation just for eating one of their treats.

When he finally reached your station, you felt his judging eyes burning holes into your very soul.

“What happened?”

“Well, the fridge is not set to the right temperature. The one I have at home is much cooler, and I didn’t have time to let the batter set. Also, the oven is different from-”

“A simple recipe but you couldn’t finish it properly. Everyone in class uses the same type of fridge and oven, no one else had any problems.”

You wanted to argue back, wanted to say how unfair it was since they were all well accustomed to their working stations because they had already taken this class. Instead you kept quiet and fought back tears that had formed at the corner of your eyes. If you wanted someone to look down on your work you would have stayed overtime at your office.

“Can’t be helped, since you’re at beginner level. You have to keep up with the rest of the class so please pay extra attention during lessons and don’t hesitate to ask your classmates for advice.” With that said he continued to stroll around the room, throwing nice remarks left and right.

When the class was finally over you grabbed your bag and dashed out of the room. You struggled to take off your apron as you walked through the main reception and into the elevator that led to the parking lot. When you finally managed to set yourself free you fished the phone from your handbag and dialled your friend.

“Hey little chef, how was your first-”

“Horrible! I’m never coming here again!” You practically screamed in your phone as the elevator doors closed. You were shaking with anger and as you stared at your reflection in the mirror from the opposite wall, you also realized you looked just as upset as you felt.

“He’s an ass! He didn’t teach us shit! Test bake he said, so I made my lemon cookies you know.”

“Oh I love those!”

“Right?! Too easy he said, even a child could make them! The damn fridge wasn’t working properly and I forgot to set the oven so they spread a little but they were still good! Then he just made fun of me in front of the whole class and ugh don’t even get me started on them-” You continued to vent as the doors of the elevator opened and you stepped inside the underground parking lot.

“All of them have taken the class before and they’re just here to drool over the teacher. I swear it’s a fucking joke, his class is only popular because every single middle-aged married woman there wants to fuck him!” You stopped from your raging rant to look for your cars keys that were nowhere to be found. “I swear they all have some sick fantasies with him! He’s not a chef, he’s just some thirty something guy that preys on naïve women. He probably doesn’t even know how to whip cream!” You huffed in anger while trying to juggle the bag you received at the reception, your handbag and your phone.

“Where the hell are my car keys?”

“They seemed to have fallen at your feet.”

You froze, feeling the blood draining from your body. You turned around in slow motion and looked up at the figure of your teacher who was only a few feet away from you. You didn’t realize just how tall and menacing he looked until now.

“Urm, I-”

“I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday. That is, if you want to attend a class taught by a guy who doesn’t know how to whip cream.”

The sweet embrace of death couldn’t have come faster. You picked your keys from the ground and tried to form some kind of apology but he quickly walked through the parking lot towards his car. He opened the door of an expensive looking Mercedes and drove away, leaving you standing there like a complete moron.

“Y/n are you still there? What happened?”

“Oh god, oh god, I’ve fucked up!” You began to walk to your car feeling like the worst person on earth. “I’m not sure how much he heard but he heard plenty.”

“Ohoho this is getting interesting!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” You spat bitterly as you opened the door of your own car and stepped inside, throwing you bags on the empty seat. “Well, I shouldn’t bother with what he thinks anyway. He was mean to mean first and it’s not like I’m going again.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one! I didn’t spend so much money just so your workaholic ass can come up with excuses not to attend! I don’t care if he likes you or not, despite what you may think he was highly recommended for his skill not for his looks.” You grumbled as you turned on your engine, really hating the fact that your friend was making a point. You loved to cook, you were good at it, you might have had a bad day and now your teacher hated you, but you shouldn’t give up on the opportunity to learn proper cooking skills.

“Alright, I’m going to try a few more lessons. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t kill me by the end of the week.”

“That’s my girl!” You rolled your eyes and hanged up the phone before driving off. You really didn’t like Nanami and now he had more than enough reasons not to like you, but you also weren’t a quitter. If anything, you will continue to go to classes out of pure spite. You’ll show him how skilful you actually were, far better than any of those hyenas from your class. You’ll whip that cream until you’ll turn it into butter.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 6:

Truthfully, it’s been a long day. A really long day.

The weather’s begun to change, and people are coming in left and right riddled with the flu. Your entire day was spent running between rooms, administering medication, taking temperatures and, unfortunately, cleaning up puke. All in all, it was a terrible night, and it was only going to get worse when you still had to go grocery shopping afterwards.

Still, you tried to calm yourself, taking a deep breath as you pushed the door open. Your last patient of the night, was thankfully, not flu-ridden. From your chart she was old, and the only thing you would be doing is taking her vitals before she moves on to radiology.

“Hello!” You greet, trying your best to smile kindly. “I’ll be taking care if you today.”

The old lady greets you, smiling gently as you approach. She’s got one hand wrapped in a bandage, the other cradling it protectively. Her face is a little uneasy, no doubt in obvious pain, but she seems to try and smile through it.

“So, I take it you’re here for your wrist? To get an x-ray?” You say, pulling over the medical cart. She nods and you take the blood pressure cuff, wrapping it gently around her arm. You take her vitals and then step back. “Alright, do you think you could take off the bandages for me? I just need to see.”

“Of course, I understand.” She says, calmly removing the bandages.

When she removes them entirely, her wrist is a sickening shade of blue. It’s swollen and discolored and looks incredibly painful, if the look on her face wasn’t any indication. When you look a little closer there’s strange disfigurement to her palms, like healed over burn scars. You try not to look at them too long, especially when the woman seems to become more uncomfortable the more you study them. You wonder if she’s alright. Your fingers start itching in your gloves.

“Yeah, that does look pretty nasty, I can see why you came in.” You try to smile reassuringly, but something about the woman’s scared demeanor is making you uneasy. “But, that’s pretty much the extent of my duties before I send a radiologist to come get you.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

You’re about to walk out, about to turn away and finally go home, but then she sucks in a sharp breath. When you look at her, she’s wrapping her wrist up again, and her pain is written clearly across her face. Your fingers itch trails of fire, and you find the decision is made almost immediately. You’re nearing her again, smiling gently, and thanking the hospital for lettings you use your quirk entirely up to your own discretion.

“That must hurt pretty bad, doesn’t it?” You start softly, pulling your gloves off. You move to the sink, washing your hands before you address her again. “I can help- my quirk, it lets me relieve others of their pain. If you would like me to, I would be happy to provide you with at least a little relief.”

“No- I- an old woman like me isn’t worth the fuss. Really! Don’t feel like you have to trouble yourself!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” You smile back at her, pulling up a stool and sitting on it. “This is my job after all, and I’d be happy to help. If you would like me to, all I have to do is touch your hand. It’ll be instantaneous.”

“You’re sure?” She asks, eyes crinkling a little unsurely. She’s trapping her injured wrist to her chest again, hope coloring her voice. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Absolutely not. It’d be my pleasure.”

The woman nods, holding her hand forward. You smile reassuringly again, reaching for her. You stop just a few inches away.

“I just wanted to let you know- a lot of previous patients have said that everything goes green when I help them. I’m not saying this to scare you, as I’ve actually been told it’s quite pleasant, but I just wanted to tell you beforehand.”

She nods, and you take her hand, closing your eyes as you focus.

You feel it immediately. An ache in your wrist that throbs with every beat of your heart. It’s familiar, you’ve felt a break like this before, but the feeling that swallow you up next isn’t. It’s a sickness coiling in your stomach, dripping through your veins and running viscous like a slow poison. It’s like you’re being boiled alive- all of your sinew and muscle falling apart and being sewn back together. All in the span of a second. It leaves you dizzy, reeling, sick and nauseous when you release her hand.

“My- that is some quirk.” The woman marvels, flexing the fingers on her injured wrist. She does so without pain, and looks at you, a wide smile across her face. “That is very impressive. And, you were right. Green. It’s all green.”

“I- Yeah.” You try to recover, hiding your breathlessness behind a hand itching at your chin. “Of course. Your very welcome.”

“You must be able to help so many people. You must be a very good nurse with that quirk.”

“I-I’d like to think so.”

“You know,” She says suddenly, and her tone is nearly devoid of all the meekness she had walked in with. She looks brighter, livelier. “My husband and I run a facility to help grow people like you.”

“People like me?”

“Yes, dear. Those with extrordinary potential who might just need a little push.” She smiles gently, grabbing her bag at her feet. Rifling through it with her good hand, she pulls out an index card. “I’m sure your quirk is plently strong all on it’s own, I’ve certainly seen that, but if you ever wanted a little help- well, we’d be more than happy to have you.”

Then she’s pressing a business card into your hand, turning to face the sound of the door as it opens. The radiologist walks in, gesturing for her and she follows behind him gracefully. The woman leaves behind her a trail of perfume, like lavender and lilies in your nose, and then door is then shut. It seems she is leaving you just as quickly as she’d arrived.

The card in your hand feels heavy, weighty as you flip it between your fingers.

Center for Quirk Advancement

You almost couldn’t believe your luck. You had just been talking about ways to strengthen your quirk, and, as it turns out, life really did decide to let you off the hook for once. You think it’s justly deserved- it did seem pretty intent on saddling you with Bakugou, after all. Maybe it’s a strange sort of cosmic reward?

Either way, you slide the card into your bag, smiling to yourself. A part of you still feels uneasy, still sick after what you’d experienced from her, but she seemed nice enough. It made the poisonous feeling almost a little too easy to brush off.

You pack up your things, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping in. By the time you’ve gone grocery shopping and have finally made it back home, your arms loaded up with bags, you feel dead on your feet. The familiar tiredness seeps into your bones, but you blink yourself awake, determined to put the groceries away before you pass out. You brace your head in your hands. If something didn’t wake you up soon, you really would be asleep in front of your fridge.

“Oi- shitty leech!” You hear screaming, knuckles against glass and an irritatingly familiar rasp. “Let me in! Shitty leech!”

Oh- joy. Seems like something did wake you up. What was that you were saying about a cosmic reward again?

When you turn around, Bakugou is standing on your balcony, shifting impatiently on his feet. His expression is skewed up something nasty as he taps on the glass once more. He’s shouting your name, well, nickname, clad in sweats and stomping dramatically just a few feet away- you think he’s almost better left outside. Then you recognize the goosebumps on his arms and the red of his cheeks. It’s cold outside, you know it, and you curse your own heart once more, trudging dutifully over to the door.

“Wow, only a week since I’ve last seen you. And you look awfully uninjured today, don’t you?” You say, yawning as you pull the door open a fraction. Just enough to peek your head out into the cool night air. “No blood or anything. Good on you, Bakugou.”

“Shut the fuck up, leech. I was bein’ nice for once.”

“Yes- because shouting ‘Oi- shitty leech’ at me from my balcony was nice.” You roll your eyes, pulling the door open enough for him to walk through. “But sure, come in, make yourself right at home.”

“Gladly.”

You just shake your head at his curt tone, turning back to the kitchen to resume putting away your things. You’re just barely organizing vegetables away in the fridge, when you hear him stomp up behind you.

“Fuck are you doing?”

“Groceries?”

“No, idiot, I meant why’re you doing it now?”

“Because this when I have time to do it? And I just went shopping?” You ask him, bewildered, and confused. You’re tired and his mind games really aren’t amusing you right now. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand the question.”

“Are you-“ Bakugou swears under his breath, turning his nose up at you. “Jesus you really are stupid. You’re so fucking stupid. Why the hell would you go grocery shopping at 1 AM?”

“Because that’s when my shift ends, you asshole. Actually, you know what, no- I absolutely do not have to defend myself to you!” You sneer right back, whirling around to face him. Suddenly you find you’re not very tired anymore. “It’s really none of your business why I do anything, let alone when I do it so if you think that maybe you want to open your mouth again to me- don’t. And I-“

“Not like that. God, you’re fuckin’ clueless. I don’t give a shit what you do, but you do realize you can’t outrun somebody with your arms full of groceries right?”

The stunted look on your face must frustrate him, because then he’s huffing, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before dragging his hand down his face.

“You seriously didn’t think about that? You fuckin’ kidding me? Jesus fuck I should’ve know, you’re so stupid.” He breathes out, rolling his eyes. “If I saw you fumbling around like an idiot, on a dark street, in the middle of the night? When you can’t outrun me because you’ve got all those shitty fuckin’ bags? Please, even I’d be attempted to attack you. You’re making it too fuckin’ easy for those weirdos, you moron.”

Is that- is that concern lacing his features? Bakugou’s brow is creased, and if you didn’t know any better you’d almost say he sounded more exasperated than outright angry with you- but you did know better. Of course you did. Believing that Bakugou regarded you with anything but begrudgingly familiarity would be foolish.

“Okay, well than you can take that argument up with my superiors.” You purse your lips, biting back another yawn. “Until then I guess I’ll just keep going out entirely defenseless and vulnerable. Lord knows that’s apparently how you see me.”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself, leech. I see everyone as defenseless and vulnerable. You’re not special.”

“Mhm, I’m sure I’m not.” You mutter, turning back to your fridge, to put more food away. “But, really, if you have such a problem, then you can figure out how to stop all the ‘weirdos’ before they get me. Isn’t that literally your job?”

Bakugou just sighs at your remark, looking very put-on. Then he clenches his fists up, eyes determined focused on the ground. “Just- fuckin’- just tell me when you’re going next time. Stupid idiot woman.”

Truthfully, you want to give him shit. You do, because there were so many nicer ways he could’ve shown concern-but you don’t. One look at his flushed face and insecure body language has you relenting. And being way nicer than he deserves. You are pretty tried after all.

“Yeah. Okay, but you’re carrying all the bags, Bakugou.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Or I’ll just go without telling you, and then we can catch up when I’m bleeding out in the street.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a joke. It was an incentive.” You smile cheekily, then you point to the bags left on the counter. “Now be a dear and unbag those for me, would you?”

“Fuck you.”

Bakugou seethes but he moves anyway, unbagging all your groceries with an absolutely unnecessary amount of force. It’s like he’s picking a fight with each plastic bag, and you try to hide your giggles.

It’s a strange little domesticity, but as weird as it is, it’s nice too. You’re still tired but things are moving much faster now, with him handing you items relatively quietly. All things considered, Bakugou did seem to be in a good mood (well, a good mood for him) and, you supposed it was nice to see him uninjured. And would’ve been totally great, totally perfect- if you didn’t turn around to see him plucking a piece of paper out of your purse.

“Fuck is this shit?”

“Are you- stop. No. Don’t just go digging around in my stuff!” You huff tiredly, grabbing your purse from him with one hand snatching the card out of his grip with the other. “You’re being rude.”

“And you’re being fuckin’ evasive. So spill it, leech, the hell is it?”

“None of your business, that’s what!”

Bakugou just rolls his eyes, plucking the paper from out of your hand with little effort. You’d like to chalk up your loss to being surprised, but no, he really is just that strong.

“Hell is this?” He asks, grumbling as he flips the card over. “Center for Quirk Advancement?”

“Yeah. That’s what it says. Asshole.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the hell do you have it?” He stares, squinting at you like you’re an idiot. “Looks fake as shit. Get rid of it.”

You can’t believe him. Seriously. You cannot believe him. There has never been one moment, in your entire life, that you would ever feel comfortable enough to dig through someone’s things- let alone ridicule them on the spot about it. It’s pure, unbridled insanity.

“I’m not- Bakugou, I’m not getting rid of something just because you said so!” You exhale, arms crossing around your stomach as you lean back against the counter. “It’s from that woman I saw today, alright? A patient.”

“Doesn’t smell right.”

“Doesn’t- What are you? A dog?”

“No. Fuck no.” He grumbles in defense, while simultaneously scrunching up his nose and barring his sharp canines. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t fuckin’ feel right.”

“Okay, well you weren’t there, so how would you know?”

“Because this company name is bullshit. It’s stupid as fuck and I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Okay? And? There’s a million stupid companies I’ve never head of before, and I don’t immediately think they’re fake!” You stride over to him, snatching the card back from his fingers. “And you know why? Because that’s paranoia. Blatant paranoia! The world doesn’t revolve around you and your knowledge, you know?”

“God, you’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs under his breath. “It’s killing me, leech. Can you really not see how shady that shit is?”

“No? Because it’s just a business card? A business card that was given to me by a kind old lady- and, why are you- no! Stop! Bakugou!”

He just rolls his eyes once more at your yell, tearing the business card in half easily. Apparently, he’s still not satisfied, because then he’s tearing those halves in half and tearing those fourths into eights, and shredding the paper entirely on your counter.

“Can’t call ‘em now, leech.” He says evenly.

You think you could scream, maybe even murder him right where he stands. Not necessarily in that order.

“Okay. No. No.” You reprimand, nearing him with determined steps. “You are not going to just walk in here and tear up things when you feel like it! That’s incredibly rude, for one, and-“

“What, so you were actually gonna call ‘em?”

“No! But that’s not even the point! The point is, you cannot just walk in here and feel free to do whatever you want! I don’t know how it is everywhere, but here, in my house, there are manners! Manners which I expect you to have, and that means you can’t just treat my things like that! It’s disrespectful and I will kick you out if you try it again. Understand? Play nice, Bakugou.”

He pinches his face into a scowl, squinting at you from just a few feet away. It looks like he’s sucked on a lemon. Then Bakugou’s scoffing, gathering the shreds of paper into his palms.

“Here. Take ‘em then, leech.” He growls, pressing them into your outstretched hand. “Since they mean so fuckin’ much to you.”

“It’s- oh my god. Oh my god, you really don’t understand what the problem here is do you?”

“No. It’s a piece of shitty paper. Who the fuck cares?”

“Me!” You nearly shriek, letting the paper fall through your fingers and back onto the countertop. “I care! It’s my house and all the things in here are my things! So, you either apologize, and I can be way more lenient than you deserve and forgive you, or you can walk yourself out.”

Bakugou leans forward, shoulders broad and intimdating as he stares down at you. You glare right back, unwilling to lose. He was in the wrong here- not you. A few seconds pass and then he’s throwing himself back against the, hands braced behind him.

“God, fuckin’ seriously? You want me to say sorry? For that shit?”

“Hmm, for walking into my house, in the middle of the night just to tear up my things?” You nearly screech at him. “Yeah! Yeah. I do.”

“You’re annoying. This is annoying. But fine. Whatever. I’m sorry. You happy now?”

“No, actually, not even a little bit.”

Then your stomping back to the remainder of your groceries, putting them away sloppily and not really caring much to organize them. You were tired before, exhausted from using your quirk, and now? With Bakugou needling you in your own kitchen? You were beat.

“What’s wrong with your face, leech?”

Spinning on your heels, you clenching your jaw tightly. You’re gonna throw him out. He’s just asking for it at this point.

Bakugou seems to pick up on your vexation, and he, to his credit, relents a little. By looking the slightest bit sheepish, for all of one second, before wiping it away into a scowl.

“I meant- why the hell do you look like that?” He grumbles, “All fuckin’ dead inside. You look terrible.”

“I- god, there are so many problems with that statement. So many. That I will not be getting into because it isn’t even worth the effort and I-“ You rant, red in the face before you take a calming breath.

It takes a second to center yourself, but you do- because cleaning up his blood would just further deplete your tank already running on empty.

“Okay- Bakugou, have had a long day, a long one. So if you have any other little mean comments you’d like to spew, don’t, alright? Because I swear to god I will euthanize you right where you stand if you open up your mouth one more time.”

He just blinks, once, twice, tilts his head to the side. Bakugou squints, rolling his shoulders back before a slow smile creeps across his face.

“Oi- you used your quirk, didn’t you? Shitty leech.” His tone is devoid of any real venom, slight amusement coloring his words. “I didn’t know it made you so fuckin’ cranky.”

“Are you making fun of me? Right now? After what I just said to you?”

Bakugou just shrugs, flicking all the lights off in your kitchen. He doesn’t even wait for the room to fall into darkness before he’s leaving, not even looking back to see if you would follow. Of course, you had to, because your bedroom was past the living room, but you almost wanted to stay rooted where you were. Just to see his frustration when you weren’t listening to him.

“You shouldn’t use your quirk just because someone tells you to.” Bakugou says, dropping himself onto your couch. “Shit’s weak. ‘s how you get burnt out.”

“Oh, whatever. And she didn’t tell me to do it.”

“So, what, you’re telling me you chose to do it? Knowing it’d wipe you the fuck out?”

“Yeah. She needed help.” You say softly, dropping down into the opposite side of the couch. You try not to get too comfortable, but you find yourself sinking into the cushions anyway. “I’m not done till I’m on the floor. Or unconscious. Kind of which ever comes first at this point.”

“Jesus. Somebody oughta put you on a fuckin’ leash. That’s stupid as shit.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk.” You mock, eyes sliding lazily over to his. “Mr. ‘Let me kill myself without sleep for 3 weeks straight and then show up half dead at Y/n’s hou-“

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“Your name is Y/n.”

“Yes? Did we not already know that?”

“No.”

You blink your eyes open entirely, flopping sideways to face him. Bakugou is smirking openingly, lips pulled back into something disarming and shit-eating.

“You fucker.” You seethe, scrunching your eyebrows together. “You’re telling me, this entire fucking whole time, that you didn’t know my name? My name! That’s my goddamn name, you shit! And you didn’t even think to ask? What the fuck?”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Excuse me?”

“Swearin’ a lot. It’s disrespectful as shit.”

“Me? I’m the one swearing? Fuck you! You swear all the time, and it’s really funny to me that you’re even running your mouth right now considering you didn’t know my name until a minute ago! You’ve slept on my couch! Multiple times! And you didn’t think, not even for a measly little second, to ask my name and- are you laughing right now?”

Bakugou is rested against the arm of your couch, one hand across his stomach and the other covering his chin. There’s no sound, he’s trying to keep quiet, but you can see his eyes. They’re crinkled up. Almost entirely closed into little slits. He’s laughing.

“Do you want to be kicked out? Seriously? Do you want to be kicked out on your ass right now? I’ll do it! I’ll fucking do it, I swear- try me again! Stop laughing, you jerk!”

“I’m not.” Bakugou tries, doing a horrible job of covering up that he is, in fact, laughing. “Ya get so fuckin’ mad, leech. Shit’s hilarious.”

“Wow, really, me? Mad? No- see,why would I be mad about you not knowing my name? After knowing each other for months. Why would I be mad about that?”

Bakugou eventually does sober, but you still he still looks a little brighter than you’ve ever seen him. It hits you then that the only color you’d ever seen in his cheeks, at least before then, was dripping blood.

““s fine. Doesn’t matter anyway.” He says, voice deceivingly light. “Your name’s leech. Don’t really give a shit what’s on your birth certificate.”

You just sit up, grabbing the pillow behind you and launching it at him. Bakugou catches it, because of course he does, and throws it right back. When it hits you it feels like you’ve been socked in the face. Because he is an asshole. An asshole who can’t play nice to save his life.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, Bakugou.” You say matter-of-factly, swiping the stray hairs from your face. You stand from the couch, glaring down at him. “I really hope you enjoy tossing and turning all night because I am not helping you.”

“Yes you will.”

“What? Making orders again? It didn’t work the first time and it’s not going to work now.”

“Nah. Don’t need to.” He says confidently, grabbing the blanket off the back of your couch. A smirk lies across his face, one you want to slap off. “You’ll help me. Because you’re too fuckin’ nice right?”

Then he’s flopping back against the pillow, sprawling his legs out and settling the blanket up to his shoulders. Bakugou looks at you expectantly, that same irritating grin still plastered on his mouth, and you want to hit him all over again.

Because he’s right. You are too nice, and you are too forgiving, and unfortunately the everything and everyone you care about includes him. It’ll always include him, even when he insists on being an exasperating child.

“Fine, go to sleep then.” You’re pulling a glove off, nearing the back of the couch with your own devious grin. “Go to sleep.”

You lean over him, bringing your hand down to flick his forehead. He catches you, of course he does, just like that fucking pillow. Bakugou traps your wrist in his grip, his grin only growing wider. You think it softens a little too- just a bit, but then again, the lighting in your living room wasn’t that great.

“Got you. Leech.” He goads lowly, tapping his thumb against the base of your wrist. “Should’ve been faster. Shit was fucking pathetic.”

“No, you’re just a freak, with weird reflexes.” You pull back, but he doesn’t seem to be letting go. Whatever it is he’s basking in, he looks a little too prideful for your liking. “Let me go- or I use my quirk on you.”

Then he’s throwing your wrist back in your face, applying so much force that you almost knock yourself out. You stumble back, grasping on to the back of the couch for stability. When you look down at him again, Bakugou is blushing but you’re not really sure why. You shake it off- it’s his problem not yours.

“Well, there, since you insisted on being a little shit, that’s all the skin-to-skin contact you’re getting from me.” You sniff, flicking off the light behind the couch. “Better pray it’s enough to send your impudent ass to sleep.”

“Stop swearin’.”

“I swear when I’m angry and-”

“I make you angry?”

“Yes!”

Bakugou just seems to almost- smile? It’s a tiny thing, curled up against the edge of his lip for all of a moment before he’s smoothing it out again. You’re about to turn away, to finally go to sleep, when he speaks again.

“Oi- shitty leach. You’re not gonna call ‘em right?” He slurs, voice raspy. “Right?”

“No? I wasn’t? But now I can’t because somebody tore up the paper.”

“Do it again if I fuckin’ have to.”

“Why’re you so concerned about it anyway?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Go to fuck to sleep.”

Then he’s out, giving into sleep and snoring into the cushions. His breathing is deep and even, mellow and relaxed, and you realize that’s all you’re getting from him tonight.

It’s not until you’re settling in bed, just on the verge of drifting, that you realize it. When Bakugou grabbed your wrist- no fire. Warmth and anger on the likes of which you’d never experienced before, sure, but no searing fire.

You wonder if he somehow forgot to put his angry pants on that day.

-/-

pls this is not edited i am so sorry ahahah

taglist: @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9 @the2ndl @the-shota-king-masayuki @shy-panda02

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

Text

Summer Nights (3)

A/N: INDEX

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual alludes, and... that’s it??

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee @bforbroadway @okaydraco

So her name was Y/N.

Draco couldn't help himself but wonder about her for the past few days, after their encounter in the restaurant. As he thought more and more of her, he decided she was more of a changeable person, judging on what he had learned about her; timid and coy one day in the lobby when he first arrived, and plainly confident on another when she approached him to return his fucking wand.

And did she believe in that fictive tale about him playing a magician? Did she sense his sudden abashment when she started to question him on the subject?

He blamed himself for the whole situation, which could have never happened if he only were more careful. He assumed he had lost the wand when his mother furiously dragged him back to his hotel room from the bar he had stopped by for a while. Perhaps, it was when he had handed the receptionist, Y/N, the letter, and it just dropped out of his pocket as he was taking an envelope out.

Fortunately for him, it found its way back. So he didn't have to trouble his head with that now, right?

One issue, however, stuck to his thoughts and vividly came back every time he glanced at his hand, only to see blurry words written with a hard-to-efface ink. Of course, by none other than Y/N.

A few days back, she had scribbled her name and a number on his palm, and since then, he tried to figure out what it was for. He knew he couldn't walk out to the city and stop people in the middle of the pavement to ask for an explanation for the note because it would be as irrational and bizarre as it sounds. The second thought was to ask his mother for an additional conjecture about that by sending an owl. But then he quickly remembered, he didn't have access to any of owls here and -- so and so -- he didn't know the address Narcissa was staying at.

So both options were excluded.

Soon enough, however, the situation cropped up. Someday around six in the morning, still sound asleep and immersed in the dreams, the strange, alarming sound rang up in his bedroom, echoing off the walls and waking half of the death of him as he heard it. He flopped off his bed with the sheets falling along with him, and he began looking for the source of the noise. Then he noticed: a white handset and a set of ten digits next to it; he picked it up -- it was only a hotel checking up if he needed anything.

From then on, everything lined up and made a perfectly logical sense in his head -- it was a muggle device to communicate with each other. If you were desperate enough not to meet up with somebody in the real-life, you were likely to click nine digits and either meet with the receiver's voice or voicemail on the other side. So here was a purpose of the number.

Draco also discovered these things were so-called phones. And they were sold in various forms and types like the models of brooms in the Wizarding World -- from less to most exclusive ones. Little did his consciousness helped him, but after an hour, he was already out in the city and walking next to the shops' exhibitions and searching for an electronics store to buy himself one of those.

Why did he want to buy the phone? He could lie and say that it was only in case of emergency. But admitting truthfully to himself, he felt a nagging curiosity about those devices and wanted to understand this part of the muggle world. And something, more of a hunch than reasoning, told him that he soon might be needing one of those.

Later that day, after wandering for almost an hour and stepping into some cafeteria for lunch, he was finally holding a fucking iPhone in his hand. It had a lot of fancy shining buttons and a small, black partly-bitten apple on the back, and some kind of virtual assistant (at least that's what he had heard from a salesman) Siri with a very posh British accent. Having been advised to purchase it, Draco did so even without a second thought.

He paid for it with some muggle money his mother provided him before her departure, and walked out of the store, having it packed in a nice paper bag with a receipt and a SIM card. He decided on opening it when he reaches his room, and meanwhile, look around the area for some entertainment or something in those terms, to preoccupy himself.

Actually, Draco hadn't been too much in foreign countries, and hauling him out to Muggle London was a miracle, much more to Muggle Paris. He could find a similarity, but it was much different here -- cars honking at each other at the traffic jam; countless shops with clothes; restaurants with delicious food; people babbling at one another in French but also in Italian and German, and English. It was chaotic; it was loud, and he had to watch his feet in order to not trip over by someone else.

Draco felt lost in that mess. Random people encouraging him to visit the shops he would never intend to drop by, strangers pushing him in a rush and mumbling indistinct 'Sorry' for stepping on his shoes, some even too bothered to even look at him. Partly, he wished he had never listened to Narcissa and instead spending time with Thoe, Blaise, or whosoever and talking about irrelevant stuff like the score of the last Quiddich match (Banchory Bangers against Falmouth Falcons) or about the latest affairs with the Ministry of Magic.

And what was he even doing here?

In mere seconds, he decided on changing a route back again to the hotel instead of meandering aimlessly and optimistically, waiting for some godsend to find.

What he wasn't, however, considering was actually finding some godsend in front of the revolving doors of the hotel building.

Yet again, as if some supernatural powers brought them to the same place every time, he was standing on the opposite side of the door where Y/N. It was the late afternoon, so instead of wearing the usual white shirt in the composition of black jeans, she had a green top and striped, yellow shorts with a small watch on her wrist.

She was turned, slightly to the side, so it was her profile he saw as she waved probably at one of her friends, smiling broadly. Draco never really paid much attention to the girl, especially to her looks, but now as his eyes roamed over her standing figure in those a little too revealing clothes, he felt a gulp forming in his throat. Her hair was falling on her shoulders, the beam plastered to her face, and she seemed to be a radiating sphere of positivity.

For the last time, she blew her friend a kiss, and then she was looking at him, infinitely shocked at the sight of him behind the window, staring at her. Draco blinked, snatching out of thoughts.

Y/N made her way out, gripping her big handbag and throwing it hastily on the shoulder and a glowing grin waving over her face again. "Nice to see you again," she said. "I thought you would call."

He furrowed his brows, detecting the faint trace of hope in her voice and feeling his heart take up on the speed. "Well... I was just about to. In the room. I bought a phone..." He lifted the sack in his hand. "...and was about to dial your number."

"Really?" she asked, slightly startled and happy at the same time. She brushed some of her hair behind the ear. "Didn't you have the phone?"

"I left it at home." It was the quickest lie he could conceive. He playfully rolled his eyes, indicating the slight amusement at his alleged absentmindedness. "Just heading back from the shop."

She laughed at that. "Right." Suddenly, her cheeks were covered in a light scarlet, and she dropped her gaze at her feet for three seconds, as if she was about to share something very, very secretive with him. Then she was eyeing him again. "Listen... I've just ended a shift. Maybe you would like to go somewhere? I promised I'll show you around the most interesting spots. Are you up to that?"

Draco contemplated, taking in a small breath. Some part of him really lingered to give it a shot and go out with her, seeing where it carries them, as spontaneous as it was. It wasn't a date, and she was practically a stranger, but... what kind of a stranger! A quiet voice in his head told him this was what kept him away from the idea; disclosing his doubts -- her sparkling with joy eyes and the effect she had on him. A mere fact of him pondering the question was pure evidence it mattered to him, and he definitely tried to kick in with a good impression.

That left him with no more answer than: "Yeah, sure."

For some reason, Y/N let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a little, looking as if she was about to hear bad news but heard the contrary instead. "Great!" she exclaimed cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, she realized, as soon as she spoke up because the embarrassment welled up on her face. Yet another blush brushed her cheeks, and she chuckled at herself. "Sorry. Bad habits from the reception."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. He liked it, actually, but obviously wasn't going to say that out loud. "Don't mind," he assured her. "Shall we--"

"Before we do," Y/N cut him in, already guessing the upcoming rest of the sentence. "I suggest you leave that stuff..." She pointed her finger at the bag he was carrying. "...in the room. We might be wandering some hours in the heat. So it might not be the best idea."

Draco nodded, silently agreeing with her pertinent advice. "I'll meet you downstairs in... five minutes, then."

She shifted a little, still grinning like a maniac and watching him with sparkling eyes. "Okay," she said, as Draco was making to walk past her, feeling the strangest hint of excitement creeping in his chest. As he was nearing the doorway, he heard her shouting behind his back, "I'll be waiting here!" And the tiniest of his rare smiles formed on his lips.

XOXOXOXO

"So tell me something about yourself, Draco." Y/N looked at him, a light of interest entering her eyes.

As decided, they had met up a few minutes later in front of the entrance to the hotel and then took on the route. Draco had asked her about any potential propositions of where there should go, to which Y/N only smiled mysteriously and said it was a surprise.

So now they were walking hand-in-hand, taking almost the same pace as they strolled in the rhythm of the roads. The buzz still could be heard, and people prattling loudly, but this time -- as Draco noted -- instead of crowding in the center of the noise, Y/N led him through some stealthy alleys only a real dweller could know about. There were still laughs and talks coming, but much quieter.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, not quite comprehending how he should answer her question. He had been in some relationships, some successful and some not, but no one had really paid much interest in him. Not really him.

"Uh, you know. Where do you hail from, what are your hobbies, why did you come to France? Whatever you want, actually." Y/N chortled, offering him a small smile of encouragement. The sun rays were smoothly emphasizing her beauty; skin glistening under the daily light. Draco couldn't help himself but think of how her hands would feel on his shoulders and--

'Focus Draco,' he scolded himself for drifting far, far away with his imagination.

"Well," he started. "I'm from England, what you can guess by my accent. I play piano, learned Italian and Spanish, and...you know, basic stuff." He omitted the part he was a captain of his Quidditch team at school for almost five years which was his biggest pride. "My mother forced me to come here."

"Oh," Y/N seemed to be a little surprised by his confession because she made a fish-like face. "Didn't you want to come?"

"Not quite," Draco admitted truthfully. Before she was able to ask him for a reason for that, he outstripped her. "Had a tough time lately. My friend...died."

Y/N stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and in an instant, her expression turned from cheerful to a regretful one. "I'm sorry," she said, massive uncomfortableness visible on her face.

He shrugged, making his faultless poker face to the game as if it didn't affect him at all -- blank and uncaring. But it hit him. Always did. He didn't like to talk about his post-war experience; even recalling it in his mind was torture.

'If she only knew,' Draco thought. 'She wouldn't be so eager to get acquainted.'

Before he could pay off with as much interest as she did to him, Y/N was gesturing excitedly to the name on the corner of the building, located right next to the extensive, artificial beach with impeccably clean water. There were quite a few people enjoying themselves and sitting on the warm sand, but not throng as Draco could expect from a place like that. "Here we are!"

Not only the sand, but a minibar was there as well: a small deckhouse in the midway of the shore and pavement; a few wooden stools; and the bartender who was shaking a cocktail mixer in his hands.

Shortly after, however, the man behind the counter noticed them approaching. He shot Draco a brief look, and then his gaze landed straight at Y/N, who also perceived him glancing at her. He seemed to be happy at the sight of her, and his eyes swept momentarily over her figure, perhaps identifying if it really was a person he thought it was, and then he gestured for her to come closer. Y/N seized Draco's forearm, tugging him to come along with her, and Draco, left without any other choices, followed.

Y/N began speaking something French with him, and he heatedly answered her back in a sort of enthusiastic voice. Apparently, they must have known each other because, after seconds, they started joking around, laughing, and patting each others' shoulders like old friends. It took quite a moment, but the bartender eventually focused his attention on Draco, who was standing next to Y/N and was trying to make any sense out of the conservation. The man asked something, curiously arching his brow yet again at Y/N, who flushed suddenly. Clearly flustered with his question, she playfully smacked him at the top of his head and turned to face Draco.

"Sorry for that," she said, putting both of her elbows on the countertop and making a slight pout of guiltiness. "It's just an old friend of mine. I used to come here a lot in the past, so we know each other... pretty well, I guess."

That arose Draco's curiosity, and he didn't miss a chance to ask her. "Don't you come here anymore?"

"No." The readiness of this reply surprised him a little bit. She bit her lip and let her eyes drift at her shoes, which -- Draco noticed -- was her typical reaction when she was nervous. "I... I used this place to meet up with my boyfriend. My father didn't approve of our relationship -- he assumed there was something iffy about him and that he had bad intentions." Chuckling dryly, she tried to cover up her emotions, though the sadness was hitched to her voice. "He was right. He used me and then dumped me, saying it meant nothing."

Although he felt an urge to hug her, he held it back and stared at her, not really knowing what to say. Should he console her by telling her the man was a pig and she clearly deserved better? Or should he keep silent, only proving himself to be a good listener? It was very confusing for him to be around girls who cry and complain and expect reassurance in their words. He witnessed Pansy weeping a lot of times, but she was the one to instruct him what to do by throwing herself at him and lingering in the embrace. But Y/N was new to him, and it was no easy way to find out what she wanted him to say.

"Sucks," he uttered under his breath before the awareness kicked in.

What the fuck, you dolt?! Is it how you want to comfort her?

Fortunately, Y/N didn't receive his words as critically as he because her eyes lighted up, and she giggled softly. "Yeah... But I learned from that. I try to be warier now."

The bartender poked her suddenly on the shoulder, making some mumbling and incomprehensible sound. Y/N nodded and slightly tilted her head to have a better view of Draco. "Jean asks if you want a drink. He recommends Brave Bull. Brags that he can do the best one in the country."

"Mhm... Let it be it," he agreed, giving up on his usual liquor and dipping into more muggle-like specials. He attempted to force a smile on the lips, trying to give it more of a tone of a request than a demand.

She reciprocated the gesture, and then she turned to her friend, leaning casually against the bar and expertly translating the conversation. He only nodded, smiling, and grabbed the nearest bottle of some booze to pour the contents into the glass along with some other ingredients.

"Here you go," the bartender, Jean, tried out his amateur English, but remnants of French accent could be heard. He laid two glasses of alcohol -- one fiercely brown; the other one, blue with a cocktail umbrella inside -- on the countertop and grinned. Before Draco could take out some cash to pay, Jean's voice echoed again, still with a little stammering accent. "Free!"

Y/N and Draco made their way to a nearby bench, both calmly sipping their drinks and looking at the horizon as the sun set down, disappearing out of your sight. It was strange for Draco how comfortable he felt in her presence; the comfort he hadn't experienced for years in anyone's company. Although he was aware you had met a few days ago, something in your relationship gave him enough space to be himself. And he liked it.

Draco chanced to glance at Y/N, and she was already looking.

"I like coming here," she started hastily, as to conceal she was staring. "It's calming."

As an excuse to tear their eye contact, Draco scanned the beach again, and he could definitely get her point. The place was nothing but charming. "Agree."

"You know... It was my inspirational area when I drew. I first found it when I got into a huge fight with my father. Since then, I have used it as an escape from the outer world. It was a mistake that I shared it with my ex, but... you seem to be a proper person."

Draco didn't miss the compliment, and a barely visible blush danced on his cheeks. He felt his pulse speeds up, heart pounding at the sudden realization of their proximity. "You drew? Is it past tense?"

"Yes." Y/N nodded swiftly, grunting. "I love to capture the moments I find beauty in: people, places, specific objects. I even aspired to go to art studies. But..." She exhaled deeply, preparing herself to continue. "...they are too costly. My father says so... I don't blame him; I know he tries. But I stopped myself from having hopes."

Draco listened, and the pity churned his stomach. Taking a nip of his drink, an idea popped up in his head. "Do you have those drafts?"

"Right now?" Y/N asked, shocked, to which Draco responded only with a short nod. "Yes, I usually carry them --er-- in my bag. I had to throw them away... but I just couldn't."

"Can I see?"

Surprisingly, for the first time, as Draco saw, reluctance appeared on her face. She deflated, apparently battling with doubts. "Ummm... Yes." And then she slipped her hand into her motley bag, rummaging intensely. After mere seconds, she finally found what she was looking for -- the set of papers bound neatly around by a fine twine and clip, to the additional perseverance.

Y/N passed him, what seemed to be many hours of her solid work, and he examined them closely. What Draco could say is that he wasn't an expert in the field, but he unconditionally believed that those sketches required a lot of talent to draw as precise as they were. He was in awe, really -- the accurate contours given the best preciseness; the attention paid even to the smallest details; gradings made with soft touches of a pencil. The drawings presented a lot: random people walking in a rush, natural landscapes, some sculptures lined up in front of a building, even the least relevant objects like shoes or an apple. That, of course, didn't discourage Draco from watching further -- he flipped the pages, soundlessly, and a little too fascinated to utter a thing.

"And what do you think?" asked Y/N, nervously tapping her fingers on her thigh and (unnecessarily) preparing herself for a flow of criticism. Her gaze darted between Draco's face and the sketches.

"I... think you have a gift," he complimented her, weighing the great truth in his words.

"Really?" Y/N asked him in disbelief, blushing profusely. "Thanks! But --er-- you can take them if you want. It'd be easier for me to know I give them in the good hands than throwing them away."

The 'good hands' comment flattered Draco, and he felt almost honored to accept the offer. "Yes. Thank you." He buried the works deeply in his pocket.

He would definitely make good use of those. He had a plan.

XOXOXO

A/N: Okay, hi everyone! It was supposed to be longer, but I decided to divide it into more chapters with less word count instead. Nothing is happening yet, but you can already feel some tension, right? :D The next chapter is going to be super, super short. So I might be posting it within two days or so??? Idk yet, and it’s not a promise because I have a nice surprise (spoiler! a new one-shot) coming and a few requests to answer, so it might also take a moment. But please, stick with me :D If anyone wants to appear on the tag list, write in comments, DM, or wheresoever!

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rat-father · 3 years

Text

I said I'd give Pora comfort so here it is

This one got long at 2.5k words and I didn't do any editing so good luck y'all lol this is the longest thing I've written

Tagging; @skunkandgrenade @jordanstrophe @whumping-out-of-time @whatwasmyprevioususername

-- tw;; intimate whumper, slave whump, food/eating, implied starvation, dehumanisation, normalisation of slavery, non con kiss (not sexual), mild whump mainly comfort, Mynci's attempt at being nice for day --

Pora stretched their arms out, finished hanging the last of the faerie lights. A heavy sigh escaped their lips, muscles aching from constant movement and repetitive posing. Cheerful laughter pierced their ears constantly, even at the dead of night. They dreaded the next day, they wanted to sleep through it all. Halloween had been.. Fun? The years prior. Or at least they thought so. They didn't remember hating it as much as they didn't remember anything else. It gave them a headache thinking back so far, to before they met Mynci. The lights greeted them when they came back out their thoughts.

Pora stepped back subconsciously, forgetting that they were standing on a stool until the hard floor collided with their body. Pain shot throughout them, crying out a sob. They greedily sucked in air through clenched teeth, deciding to take the moment to rest. They couldn't have closed their eyes for long when Mynci's footsteps calmly neared them, coaxing them to quickly push themselves up to their feet. They struggled to find their footing, terrified gaze locked on him.

„Sorry- I- I wasn't-“ they stammered.

„Sleeping without my permission? You definitely were.“

They swallowed dryly, accepting their inevitable fate. Their hands trembled nonetheless, waiting in anticipation.

„But,“ he continued. „I'm in a good mood today, so I'll forgive you this time.“

„Really?!“ they exclaimed in disbelief.

„Yes. But if you ruin my mood that will change before you know it.“

Tears sprung to their eyes, the information settling in. He saw their relief, a wide grin splitting his face. His hand carded through their tangled hair, freeing it from their sweaty forehead.

„Now, be good for me and finish setting all this up, hm?“ He gestured at the left over boxes filled with decorations.

„Yes, sir. I will.“

They snaked past him, his burning gaze following them. They caught a glimpse of the moon outside, surrounded by the tiny stars. The idea to stop and admire it crossed their mind, immediately deciding against it with Mynci still watching them. They searched through the closest box, taking out the biggest decorations to get them out of the way. They were planning to handle the smaller ones later. Once he was out of sight they could take things easy, and hopefully have time to rest before sunrise. He said he had a surprise planned for them, and they feared what that would be.

~-~

„Wake up, baby,“ Mynci cooed, squishing Pora's cheeks between his thumb and index finger.

They reluctantly opened their eyes, messy hair falling in front of their face. Slowly they rubbed their eyes, trying to speed up the process of waking up. He placed his hand on their chest, tracing down to their hips. They immediately sat up, legs twitching away at the touch. He chuckled lightly.

„Slept well? I found you passed out in the back room last night.“

„Sorry, I- I didn't mean to. I'm sorry,“ they stammered.

He hummed thoughtfully. „No matter. I don't want to ruin this special day. And neither do you.“

Pora nodded, slowing their pounding heart beat. He swung his legs over the mattress, jumping off the bed. He only wore black jog pants, contrasting his bare chest. They stared a moment too long, catching his attention.

„You get to stare at the me all day, you know,“ Mynci leaned over, dragging them out by their collar.

They yelped in surprise, latching onto his shoulder for support as they stumbled into him. He chuckled, his fingers tangling in their messy hair pulling them forward. He pressed his lips against theirs, nails moving up their spine. They melted under the touch, muscles relaxing. A blush warmed their face, gasping for air once he pulled away.

„Now, tell me, baby. Do you love me?“

„Y-yes.“ Pora said, hesitating slightly.

„Say it.“

„I..I love you.“

He gave a satisfied grin. „I love you too. I want this to be an amazing day, so be good for me.“

They nodded. It's rare that they got surprises, and they hoped that it would be a fun day, like he promised. He stepped away from them, swiftly moving to the closet to change his outfit. They took a quick glance at him, sitting back down on the mattress. The new breathing room it gave when he left felt nice, letting them regain their senses. A wave of nausea overcame them as hunger clawed at their stomach. They closed their eyes for a moment and waited for it to pass, listening to the sound of fabric getting moved around.

Pora subconsciously tugged at their own shirt, stained with dry blood. They couldn't remember which wound was the source of the stains, all the times he hurt them blending together in a fog. They squinted their eyes open, in time to watch him pull another set of clothing out of the closet. They straightened their back, slightly adjusting their position.

„I think the clothes you have now are a bit too cold to wear outside this season. If people see you like that they might just think I'm torturing you!“ Mynci laughed.

They forced themselves to smile, catching the clothes as he threw it at them. They took off their old shirt, replacing it with the gray blouse he gave them, and put on the long pants. The fabric felt a lot softer with a welcoming warmth as their exposed skin got covered. He pulled his hair back in a ponytail, side eying them. He offered his hand, helping them get up. They placed their hand on top of his, their fingers intertwining immediately. A kind smile painted his face, making them forget who he was momentarily.

He led them out to the front door of the tent, familiar sound of laughter and cheering much clearer to them. They saw the source of all the noise, children holding hands with their parents or running in front of them. Pora couldn't help but stare as they passed them by, unknowing of their situation. Mynci lightly squeezed their hand, pulling their attention back to him with a glare. They quickly muttered an apology, walking a small step closer by his side.

Pora's eyes kept wandering over to the various attractions, stalls and everything in the environment, awing at it all like a child. Mynci smiled to himself, seeing his slave so amazed by everything. He took them to his favorite small restaurant on the edge of the park, close to the circus. He knew the owner personally, and had since she moved there. She always struck conversations with him, chit chattering until his ears fell off. She had no problems with him bringing Pora into the establishment, seeing as she had a pet of her own.

The building was just out of reach of the sun, sheltered by the surrounding trees. Elevated wooden planks subsidized as floor leading into the front door, wide open to greet them. Purple and white flowers bloomed around the walls, bees stopping by now and then. Pora followed him mindlessly, taking in as much of the sight as they could. They saw the owner before she did, busy scribbling something down on a notepad.

„Hey, Cai!“ Mynci greeted, letting go of their hand to spread his arms towards her.

She jumped at the noise, cursing under her breath before burying herself in his arms.

„You need to stop doing that. Scared the shit out of me.“

„Not my problem. I'm here to take you up on that offer you gave me last time.“

Cai leaned her head past his chest, squinting her eyes at them. She nodded. „Brought your slave

They took a step forward sheepishly, unsure of what they were supposed to do. He chuckled, nodding enthusiastically.

„Mhm. I wasn't lying when I said that they're the most adorable slave I've seen.“

„Sure wasn't. And their name was? Pora?“

Pora nodded, hiding their hands in the long sleeves. They felt awfully exposed, being talked about as if they weren't there. She never fully acknowledged their existence, showing them to their table and handing Mynci a menu. They sat next to him, sneakily peeking over his shoulder to see the options. The letters all blurred together, not becoming any clearer despite their rapid blinking. Their heart sunk to their stomach as realization set in.

His hand tucked a bit of stray hair behind their ear, making them flinch. Their eyes met his, followed by a short kiss on their lips.

„I'll order for you, baby. Don't you worry about it,“ Mynci said, tapping his finger on their nose.

They knew better than to go against him, slowly nodding. He must've known they couldn't read anymore, that was probably his intention. The waiter walked over to their table almost immediately after he signaled for them. Pora didn't look their way, barely listening as he put in the order. The family sitting by the table next to them caught their attention, the way they laughed and talked together tied a knot in their stomach, a distant familiarity to the sight.

Mynci put his on theirs, giving it a squeeze. They turned back to him, hesitantly leaning on his shoulder. They forced their tensed muscles to relax, taking deep breaths. They stared at the decorative doll of a tiny ghost, casually sitting on top of their table. It seemed to be a having a great time doing nothing all day.

„Where do you want to go next?“

The question threw Pora off for a moment. He raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.

„Um. I-I don't know.“

„That's alright, you can choose as we go. Decisions like that aren't made for slaves, so I see why you struggle.“

On cue, the waiter came back holding trays, filled with drinks and plates with food. They set it all down in front of them, Mynci thanking them politely. Pora's stomach twisted with hunger, mouth watering at the smell. He nodded at the slave, allowing them start eating. They wasted no time scarfing it all down, savoring every bite. They didn't recognize most of it, but they didn't care. Some of the drinks were bitter and stung the back of their throat, taking their mind off the situation. Giddy with joy, they couldn't stop smiling. It was the first time in forever they had a full stomach and a full meal. Mynci pressed a kiss to their cheek.

„Enjoying yourself, baby?“ he asked.

„Yes, sir.“

They couldn't contain their smile, the collar around their neck feeling as light as their head. He carded his fingers through their hair, leaning into the gentle touch. He ordered them a bowl of ice cream, covered with colorful sprinkles and whipped cream. They finished it all within minutes, quickly regretting it as their brain froze up from the cold. They whimpered pitifully, earning mock laughter from Mynci. They pouted, taking the hand he offered to walk them out the door.

Creaking floorboards turned to tiles, stepping outside. Everything was a lot calmer in the morning, giving them more place to walk at their own speed. Mynci got greeted by a lot of visitors and off duty employees, calling out to him or giving a wave. His tight grip on their hand didn't loosen, checking to make sure they were still there often. Pora remained busy watching the birds fly by or sit in their respective trees, singing their songs. The sunlight was a welcome change to them, being way too adjusted to the natural colored lights the circus tent provided when the sun was out.

Tiny stones crunched under their feet, disrupted by orange and red leafs. They stopped to pick up a small bug they found, hurriedly finding a bush to place it in. He smiled at them, eyes glistening with adoration. They hopped after him again, intertwining their fingers with his. The wind had a smell they couldn't quite place, but it was nice nonetheless.

„Can we try one of those arcade games?“ Pora stopped dead in their tracks, pointing at the building standing on the side.

„Of course, baby.“

It was a newer place set up recently, evident by the newer technology. He hadn't gotten around to personally welcoming the owner yet. Not that it mattered, he'd meet them soon enough. They entered the building, the whole place decorated festively with darker lights to fit the mood. The games shone brighter in the dark, standing out in contrast. The person at the reception greeted them wholeheartedly with a polite nod. Mynci got them tickets to play some of the games by themselves, trusting they wouldn't attempt to run while he made small talk with the owner.

Pora took the opportunity to take a go at one player games they distantly remembered being their favorite. It didn't take them long to get the gist of it again, as if they never stopped playing, The claw machines were the ones they struggled with the most, taking multiple tries before they got something. They excitedly grabbed the round plushie, representing a fake monster with a small head poking out above the dark gray fluff that made up its body. They continued playing more games with their new found friend in their arms, until they ran out of tickets and went to find Mynci.

He wasn't hard to spot, his green hair standing out from a distance. They hopped over to him, lightly tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. He turned to face them, raising an eyebrow.

„What is that you got?“ He asked.

„It-it's a plushie I won, from a, a game.“

Pora held it up to him to show it off, letting him feel it.

„It's nice,“ he said „Do you want to go?“

They nodded, following him back out the door as he said goodbye to the employee. The sun blinded them momentarily. More people slowly started to flow in to the park, noise getting louder with each person entering. They hovered close to him, keeping their eyes down. He steered them away from bigger crowds, nearing food vendors with all types of snacks. They perked up at the sight, silently pleading to go to one. He got the message and brought them to get crunchy waffles with sweet syrup in between. It was sweet and tasty, a light treat to end the day outside with.

He threw the last waffle piece in his mouth, crunching down on it. „Let's go back home, darling. I'll let you get some rest before the show.“

#whumpee #whump #captivity whump #slave whump #intimate whumper #non con kissing #comfort whump #implied starvation #tw food mention #clown whump

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

Five Seconds (5/8)

If you’d like to read on AO3, you may do so here.

October 15, 2018

The leaves were beginning to change outside the window; the maples turning russet, the birch yellow. Scully felt pendulous and gravid, the child in her belly more active than her previous two combined. Sleep was becoming difficult, but by day they’d fallen into a comfortable routine, safe and unmolested from the dangers that were beginning to feel as though they had never existed at all.

She stretched and left Mulder, half his face obscured by his pillow, his lips soft and pliant in sleep. A fresh pot of decaf awaited her in the kitchen, its automatic timer set by Mulder late last night.

The kids were still asleep, as far as she could tell -- she'd heard Lily come home well after midnight. She'd been up reading anyway when her daughter had popped her head into their bedroom door and whispered "I'm home." The girl had been wearing a small smile and Scully recognized the look. Lily was falling in love.

Will shuffled into the kitchen sleepily, a palm rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He approached Scully where she stood at the counter and put an arm around her shoulder, leaning on her. He still smelled like the sleepy little boy who liked to cuddle into her side to watch nature shows when he was six.

"Morning Mom," he said, taking a snuffly breath. He leaned down and rested his cheek against her head (he was almost as tall as Mulder, though still as skinny as a maypole). Scully wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him in closer. Affection from her kids was getting fewer and farther between now that they were active teenagers. She was determined to enjoy whatever she got.

"Morning," she said, giving his back a little rub, "you're up early."

"Yeah," he said on a yawn. "There's an open rink this morning and a couple of buddies are going. Is it okay if I join them?"

Scully nodded. "Just make sure you tell your dad, too. Know the exits before you go and keep an eye on the crowd."

Will squeezed her once and then let go, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and holding up like James Bond. "Call me Double O Billy," he said and sidled back to his room off of Scully's bemused chuckle.

She spent an hour catching up on email that had been routed through the Gunmen and Darlene -- coded messages that they interpreted and sent to her mother, sister and brothers. Melissa was giving her a hard time about not letting her fly to Europe (where she thought they were) to be her doula when the time came to give birth. She was tempted to send Byers to her sister's house to explain exactly what was happening, but rejected the impulse. Their mother -- the only person other than the Gunmen and the X-Files triumvirate at the FBI who knew their situation (though not their location for her own protection) -- would talk her down eventually.

Mulder came padding up behind her as she closed the laptop and she felt a soft, drawn-out kiss on the side of her neck.

"Morning," he mumbled into her skin.

She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, then turned to receive his kiss.

"Morning," she said.

"I’ll be back shortly. I'm going to drop Billy off at the ice complex and then take Lil to campus -- she suddenly started liking football."

"I think it's the company rather than the sport," Scully said, turning in her chair to face him.

"...I'm going to choose to believe my version," he said.

Scully reached out and linked their fingers briefly. "Tell her to be careful," she said, "she's spending a lot of time out of the house."

Mulder nodded and squeezed her fingers. "I will," he said, "and when I get back, I have a few ideas for how we can spend our child-free afternoon." He waggled his eyebrows at her and let go, backing out of the room like the charmer he was.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“So why UVA?” Travis asked her. He had his head propped up on an elbow and his other hand was wrapped loosely around her foot, his thumb rubbing circles into her arch. She was on the couch in his dorm room and he was on the floor -- she’d been helping him study for mid-terms. They had been officially dating for five weeks and had seen each other at least every other day in that time. He’d introduced her to a couple of friends as his girlfriend.

“What?” she asked. It was hard enough to concentrate while getting a foot massage, and she’d been staring at the index cards in front of her, trying to find a question that would stump him.

“Why are you going to UVA? Brain like yours, you could have gone anywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever asked you why there.”

“Other than the in-state tuition?” She had told him that they’d moved from Virginia, but hadn’t elaborated.

“Other than that,” he smiled.

“I’ve always wanted to. When I was a kid, my dad would occasionally get called in to consult there and he would take me with him. I kinda fell in love with it.”

“What did your dad consult on?” he asked, “You don’t talk about your parents much.”

Travis tapped her other leg, and she switched feet, silencing a groan when his knuckle hit a particularly sensitive spot.

She had purposely avoided mentioning her family much and debated how much was safe to share.

“UVA has a Department of Perceptual Studies,” she said, and she saw him tilt his head in question.

“A department of what?”

“Perceptual studies,” she said, smiling, “it’s a research group devoted to the investigation of phenomena that challenge mainstream scientific paradigms regarding the nature of the mind/brain relationship.” Travis stopped rubbing her foot and looked at her. She went on, further quoting her dad’s friend Dr. Stevenson: “Their mission is the scientific empirical investigation of phenomena that suggest that currently accepted scientific assumptions and theories about the nature of mind or consciousness, and its relation to matter, may be incomplete.”

“You’re shitting me,” he said.

“I shit you not.”

“What kind of phenomena?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She tried not to smile, “ESP, poltergeists, near-death experiences, out-of-body experiences, claimed memories of past lives.”

“And what did they want with your father?” he asked, sitting up.

She shrugged. “He’s a shrink,” she said, being deliberately vague.

“This is an accredited university?” He teased her. She kicked at him, and he ducked out of the way and laughed, then looked at her thoughtfully. “You know, I myself had an out-of-body experience with Trudy Carmichael under the bleachers when I was sixteen. Pretty sure I saw through time.”

Lily chuckled, then playfully challenged: “Do I need to worry about this Trudy Carmichael?”

“I doubt it,” he said, hanging his head, “I lost my virginity, and she lost my number. Not my finest hour.”

“A whole hour?,” Lily said wryly.

“One way to find out.”

He looked at her then and she looked back. The moment was charged and sat in between them. The truth was, Lily was still a virgin. She and Travis had messed around, but fairly innocently, and she’d demurred on action below the waist/under the clothes. “I’m not waiting for marriage,” she’d told him a few weeks back, but she did want to wait for love. If only she knew what that felt like.

“Hey, Frisbee,” Travis said when she didn’t say anything, “please don’t take this as a negotiation tactic -- you’ve been clear on your limits and I totally respect that -- and with the full understanding that you don’t need a reason, and you do you and all that -- but… do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what exactly?” she asked, clarifying.

“When I say ‘no pressure,’ I mean it,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her foot.

Lily looked around his sloppy dorm room. There were clothes strewn about, though mostly out of the way— socks balled up near the laundry hamper, a sweatshirt hanging on the back of a chair. The wooden loft that held his bed was posted around the couch, made of flimsy-looking two-by-fours, and did not look like it could hold his weight, much less hers in addition, and remained untried (though Travis swore it had passed inspection). His desk was more fastidiously kept, a reflection of his mind, a structured order in the midst of chaos. He was kind and smart. His smile could make her insides go liquid.

“Honestly?” she finally said, “it’s my parents.”

“Super religious?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from laughing. “No, it’s… My parents love each other. More than anyone I’ve ever known. Their love is like… romance film love. It’s practically written in the stars.”

He looked at her contemplatively. “That’s a lot to live up to,” he said. “Is that what it is?”

“Yes,” she said, then, “no.” It was and it wasn’t. She didn’t know if there was a love out there that could compare, she suspected there wasn’t. Her real hang-up, and she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head since she found her father’s first wedding picture in their attic -- was that her father had obviously made a mistake. What if she did too?

She laughed, annoyed at herself. This wasn’t Regency England. Sex didn’t mean marriage. It didn’t even necessarily mean love. Still...

“Come on,” she said, sitting up and grabbing for his class notes, “this bio exam isn’t going to take itself.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

A sound woke her. Her hips were in agony and sleeping was difficult, so initially she was more annoyed than anything; she could rarely line up more than 90 minutes straight of deep slumber. And then she heard it again.

She reached over, squeezed Mulder's bicep until she heard him sniff sharply awake and silently, pulled out the sidearm she kept inside her bedside table. Mulder, slipping out of bed without a word, pulled out his own gun and went to the door. He held up a hand, trying to tell Scully to stay back, but she shook her head angrily -- she would have his back whether he liked it or not.

When he moved into the hallway, she stepped on the back of his heel and he ended up ramming his shoulder into the doorframe. He swore low under his breath. They were out of sync.

She watched as he put his head into the kids rooms as he made his way down the hallway, nodding at her that they were both accounted for. One more thunk from the living room.

He sidled up to the wall that led to the room and backed up against it. He mouthed one-two-three and they went in, but where she usually went low and he went high, this time they rammed shoulders and stumbled into the room. Mulder flicked on the light when she finally had her weapon aimed true.

There, sitting on a high bookshelf sat Apgar, her black tail swishing merrily. Maintaining eye contact, she swiped one more of the professor's knick-knacks off the shelf and onto the floor.

Mulder dropped his weapon and heaved a sigh, tipping his head back in frustration. "Fucking cat," he hissed.

Mission completed, Apgar jumped down with a thump and weaved a figure eight between Mulder's legs.

"She must be hungry," Scully said.

"Hangry was invented by cats," Mulder mumbled, reaching down to pet the cat with his free hand.

"Our tactical coordination was atrocious," Scully said, flicking the light back off and holding her gun at her hip.

"Yes," Mulder agreed.

"When was the last time you went to the range?" she asked.

"It's been months," he said tiredly.

"We're going tomorrow," Scully said. Mulder knew better than to argue.

XxX

There were more than a few Molon Labe bumper stickers in the parking lot. Scully had to remind herself that they were in Michigan Militia territory. "Michitucky," she'd heard it called by a few guys at the Bureau. Nevertheless, she pulled up to the firing range with fire in her blood. She might not share their politics, but she would share their space, and show most of them up to boot.

They signed in and bought ammunition. She got a few extra looks for being a visibly pregnant woman, but most of the men (and they were all men) who were at the range gave her begrudging looks of approval. Mulder stood, standing straighter and closer than normal, practically growling at anyone who got too close. She had to admit that his fierce protective nature was more than a turn-on.

The range was outdoors -- different than what they were used to at Quantico. And where there were metal tables and dividers and state of the art equipment at the government facility, here it was all beat-to-shit plywood tables and sunburnt grass littered with shell casings and old ear plugs. They took the lane at the end.

They both loaded and checked their weapons, snugged earmuffs over their heads.

"You want to go first?" Mulder asked, double checking the safety on his pistol and setting it on the table behind their station.

"I can do that," Scully said, looking down at her Sig.

"Care for a little wager?" her husband asked.

"You can't afford me, Dr. Mulder," she said, admiring the still-lanky line of his physique.

He raised his eyebrows, and leaned back against the tall wobbly table. "Oh-ho," he said, "I suppose that depends on the currency." He had a smug look about him that she wanted to wipe off his face. She was a better marksman and more competitive than anyone gave her credit for.

"What are you offering?" she asked.

"Dishes?" he offered, "Laundry?"

"We had children for the menial labor," she challenged, "I can win this with one hand tied behind my back. Make it interesting for me."

He licked his lips. She had him.

"I liked the part about 'hands behind the back,'" he said, "Winner decides who wears the handcuffs."

"You're not exactly incentivizing this, Mulder."

He had a flushed look about him; his nostrils flared.

"Prove it," he said, and she felt a flush. Second trimester hormones could be a beautiful thing, she mused.

It took her several rounds before she got back into the groove. It actually had been too long since she'd practiced and she was rusty. Considering their current situation, she ought not to let it happen again. Her last few rounds were dead center. Once her clip was empty, she cleared her weapon and stepped back.

Mulder's turn.

He wasn't quite as out of practice as she was initially, which irritated her to no end. However, his fourth and fifth shots were a bit wide, and he ended around the edges.

When he was clear, she stepped back up and took a bracing breath. She raised her weapon and fired rapidly; all her shots were center mass except the last two, which she swung up and finished with perfect shots to the head of the paper dummy.

When Mulder stepped forward for his turn, she nudged him.

"How big would you say the back of the Yukon is?'" she asked casually.

His first three shots went wide.

XxXxXxXxXxX

October 17, 2018

“Mom?” Lily asked. There was a hesitancy in her voice that made Scully look up from where she was chopping vegetables for dinner. “How did you know you loved Dad?”

Scully set the knife down and turned toward her daughter. “That’s a big question, Lil.”

“What’s a big question?” Mulder came breezing into the kitchen, shooting Scully an intrigued look.

Scully suspected something was up, but didn’t want to embarrass their daughter. Lily had always had an inquisitive streak and would occasionally come to Scully with problems or questions, but she was apt to clam up when pressed.

“Lily was asking me about how I fell in love with you,” Scully said, trying to catch Mulder’s eye.

“It was the day she met me, no doubt,” Mulder said. He grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and shined it on his sleeve before taking a snappy bite. “I’m catnip to the ladies,” he said around the mouthful. Lily smiled. Scully rolled her eyes.

“Suddenly, I’m struggling to remember,” Scully said with mock derision. Mulder gave her a cheeky grin.

“Did you know right away?” Lily asked.

Scully paused. “Not… Not right away,” she said thoughtfully.

Lily looked back and forth between her parents. “I guess it was a long time ago, huh.”

“Love in a time of sarsaparilla,” Mulder said dreamily. Scully shook her head and he caught her eye. “It wasn’t that long ago, Lil,“ he went on, and Scully felt the low bloom of feeling that always accompanied a look from her husband. For as long as she lived, she would always remember the first time she felt it; on the Tooms case, when he’d hooked his finger in her necklace and pulled.

“No, what I mean is… it was complicated,” Scully clarified.

Lily nodded and turned to her father. “You were married. Before Mom.”

“Yes,” Mulder said.

“Did you love her? Your ex wife?”

“I thought I did.”

“When did you figure out that you didn’t?” Lily asked.

“When I met your Mom,” Mulder said.

“So what you felt with Mom…”

“... was so much bigger than I was, that I couldn’t contain it.”

Scully felt her eyes well up. Mulder still sometimes had the ability to make her feel things all the way down to her toes.

Lily smiled, but looked pensive.

"But you thought you loved this other woman? I mean, enough to marry her?" she asked.

Mulder narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "What are you asking, Lil?"

Lily shook her head, her cheeks pink. She grabbed a soda from the fridge and walked out of the room.

“Oh boy,” said Scully.

“What?” Mulder asked.

“Travis,” said Scully. “She’s trying to figure it all out.”

“Jesus, he didn’t propose, did he?” Mulder asked. The look on his face was enough to make her laugh, but she held it in.

Scully turned fully to Mulder and leaned back against the countertop, crossing her arms in front of her.

“You want to know what I think?” she asked. Mulder nodded. “She’s trying to decide whether or when to...” She made a vague gesture with her hands.

Mulder looked at her, still not understanding. Scully gave him the stare of the dotard husband.

“Mulder…” she said, glaring hard.

Realization dawned and Mulder swallowed. “I should have had that boy killed,” he said.

Scully turned back to the vegetables she’d been chopping. “Let’s refrain from wetwork while we’re on the lam.”

“I make no promises,” he said, and slid up behind her, stepping in close and putting his hands on her waist.

“I had the guys check him out by way of Darlene,” Scully said. “He is who he says he is. And he seems like a decent kid. Let’s let her navigate this on her own, huh?” She felt his fingers squeeze and then they drifted down to rest on her hips.

“I don’t like it,” he mumbled, and leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to,” she said. “But you do have to accept it, and trust that we raised her to make these decisions for herself.” She remembered being nineteen and in college and in love for the first time. “You want to hear about Kevin McAvoy, my freshman year boyfriend?”

Mulder squeezed his fingers again and then started to turn her slowly toward him. She set down the knife on the counter and let him. His head was bent toward her and she felt his breath fan her face.

“No,” he said, leaning even more into her personal space.

“I was his Little Red Corvette,” she said playfully, tipping her head back in challenge. He smiled, but she saw something rough pass through his eyes. “He’d put on Prince and --”

Mulder leaned down and silenced her with a kiss.

XxXxXxXxXxX

In her room, Lily sat on the bed, the can of soda from the fridge sitting unopened on her bedside table. Condensation beaded on the side of it, sliding down silently to pool at the base, unnoticed.

Crusher liked to sleep on her pillow, and had left a black felted indent in the feathers, which Lily brushed away and fluffed. She looked about the room. Not much about it spoke of the young woman who slept there and had for months; no posters on the walls, no pennants hanging or pictures of friends. It was a sterile guest room decorated with the mute tones of an unmarried 60-something and lately it had been making her feel like she wasn't even herself.

She stood and walked to the desk, the one place she deposited her things. Her wallet, the phone Darlene had given her that she rarely used and usually kept switched off. Her purse was half hanging off -- likely knocked into such a position by a passing cat -- and when she righted it, she noticed the picture that sat under it. The photo of her father and an unfamiliar brunette, who's face conveyed confidence -- almost a smugness -- and a certain charm.

She stared at the picture. And she wondered.

XxX

October 20, 2018

Lily glanced over her shoulder when she sat, feeling as though she were doing something illegal, something fraught.

No one really used the computer labs anymore -- if you needed to, you could write an entire paper on your phone, though Lily found the practice ridiculous and immature. Nevertheless, there were one or two students sitting at the various desktops around the small library lab, and she checked to make sure no one was paying attention to what she was doing.

She tried to be careful. She had told Travis that she was hoping to log into the university's network to prep for some of the classes she’d be taking at UVA next semester and so she was using his password and login information. She'd checked to make sure there were no cameras on the area where she sat, and that her back was to the one aimed at the larger area.

With a bracing breath, she logged on.

It was surprising what you could find with a simple Google search, and the commonwealth of Virginia's vital records office would send you a copy of any marriage certificate for a fee of $45. Knowing better than to use a credit card, she'd opted for a more in depth search, and found what she was looking for in the Daily Press -- the local newspaper of record in Newport News, Virginia.

It was a wedding announcement, complete with two pictures -- one, the same picture she'd found in her parent's attic and the other of a similar style -- of Fox William Mulder and Lauren Edith Williams, married on August 17th, 1988. According to the article, Lauren had been a recent graduate of Georgetown University and had been employed at Schuster and McClure, a PR firm in the District of Columbia.

Lily looked at the new photograph on the screen before her. Her father looked so young. Only a few years older than herself. Lauren was pretty, had perfect posture, and was staring into the camera like a dare; her dress was all frills and white froth, the material of the dress ruched in large poofs at the shoulders, a crown of satin flowers around the lush brunette curls on her head. She looked like someone Lily wouldn't have dared talk to back in high school. She looked nothing like Lily's mother.

Lauren Edith Williams, she wrote down, and stared at the paper in front of her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

October 21, 2018

Lily was on the bus when she noticed him. It was his age that first drew her attention. Most everyone that rode this route (it went right into campus) was either a student or a professor, and something about him seemed the antithesis of scholarly. He had a sharp face, was dressed in loose clothing, a plain, black ball cap pulled low over his head. His knee bounced where he sat. She thought she could make out a tattoo curling onto the skin under the sleeve of his jacket. He could have been custodial staff for all she knew, but her parents had raised her to trust her instincts, and something inside of her pinged.

He hadn’t so much as looked in her direction, but she reached up and pulled the cord that requested a stop anyway, keeping him in her periphery when the bus rolled to the next stop. She was five blocks further away than she would have liked -- she was supposed to meet Travis just off campus for lunch. The man didn't move or rise from his seat. Nevertheless, she ducked out of the back door and onto the sidewalk, shouldering her purse and pretending to look at her phone. Only when the bus left with the man still on it would she exhale. The bus had just started to roll forward when it chirped to a stop and the front doors opened. The man in the cap trotted down the steps and onto the sidewalk, glancing briefly at her before turning and walking slowly west. Adrenaline awash in her bloodstream, she turned east.

The man had had a nondescript face. He was of average height and build, not someone you'd notice. She wracked her brain trying to remember when or if she'd seen him before, and had a hazy recollection of someone who might have been him: waiting outside of Travis's dorm when she'd come to visit him a couple days prior, or maybe even standing behind her in line at a coffee shop the day before. She should have been paying closer attention. Her parents had taught her to pay closer attention. Up until she'd done a search on her father and his ex-wife, she had. Lily silently cursed at herself.

She looked at her reflection in the shop windows along Grand River Avenue, trying to catch a glimpse behind her. She caught movement, but there were plenty of other people walking up and down the sidewalk. She needed a better look.

She swung up the stairs of the Student Union when she came to it a moment later, remembering walking in with her brother and dad only the month before, and felt the sharp pang of guilt.

When she reached the top of the staircase, she stopped to retie her shoe, glancing back behind her as she did so. The man in the cap was there, and had paused a ways away, looking down at his phone. Lily finished fiddling with her shoe and casually walked to the door, holding it open for a girl who was coming out, her heart hammering in her chest as she did so. Through the large doorway was a wide set of stairs going both up and down. When the door closed behind her, she bolted down the stairs to her right. There were a number of study spaces and she could pass through each one fairly quickly -- the day was busy and there were students everywhere; if she was lucky she could get lost in the crowd.

She ducked through the main lounge and past the small coffee shop on the lower level, looking behind her. She saw nothing, but that didn't mean he still wasn't coming. Seeing the full racks of clothing in the Spirit Shop across the hallway, she went inside, bending down to pretend to look at a few items on the bottom shelf.

Peering through underneath the hanging shirts, she watched as the man in the black cap came down the hallway outside of the shop and paused, turning toward it. Her heart leapt to her throat. He did a slow turn and then turned to keep walking. She kept her head down.

From the corner of her eye she caught her own reflection in the mirror outside the tiny dressing room -- she was wearing a bright blue shirt and her hair -- as bright and reflective as a stop sign, and always a part of herself she was fond of -- would give her away.

She stood, scanning the hallway outside the shop, and then she hastily pulled a green knit cap off a nearby shelf and pulled the tag off, shoving it over her head and tucking her hair up under it as quickly as she could. She grabbed a large tee shirt off the rack nearest her and took it plus the hat's tag to the counter, pulling some cash that her parents always had her carry out and plunking it on the counter.

"I don't need a receipt, thanks," she told the young woman helping her, and turned away.

"But what about your change?" the girl called after her.

"Tip jar," she said, turning back and keeping her voice low.

Once outside the store, she pulled the tee shirt over her head and made her way for the lower level exit that emptied onto campus. Seeing no one behind her, she took the steps out as fast as they would carry her and ran.

XxX

Darlene narrowed her eyes at Lily, and opened the door. “Quickly,” she said.

“Thanks,” Lily said, as Darlene let her into the house, peering around the block. “I didn’t want to use the phone.”

“I get it,” Darlene replied as she ushered Lily into her kitchen, where Lily sank onto one of the stools that sat before the peninsula of the counter.

"You want a lemonade or something, kiddo?" Darlene asked, leaning forward against the counter herself and giving Lily an expectant look -- there was more to it than just polite hospitality.

"No, thanks," Lily said, feeling the weight of Darlene's gaze and her own guilt in equal measure.

"Did you do something stupid?" Darlene asked outright and Lily, taken aback, sat up straighter, but didn't answer, thus confirming Darlene's clear suspicion. "How bad?"

"I think they found us."

Darlene huffed a breath. "Elaborate," she said.

"I... I ran a search. A couple days ago, in the university library. I was careful, but maybe not careful enough."

"What did you search?"

"My dad's ex-wife."

Darlene gave a low whistle. "Kiddo," she said, a statement.

"I know."

"Have you considered just asking him about her?"

Lily hugged herself.

"I have. I did. But… I wanted to know. For me. I don't want his version of this woman. I wanted to see for myself who she was. Is."

Darlene moved to the window and peered out, lowering the blinds as she did so. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Lily once again felt a pang of guilt. She looked down. "Not really."

Darlene moved around the counter to a sideboard table on the dining room side of the counter and began shuffling through a drawer.

"What makes you think they found you?" she asked.

"I think there's someone following me," Lily said, "I think maybe I’ve seen him a couple of times on campus, but I don’t know. I lost him and came here."

"Just one someone?"

Lily began to second guess herself.

"I think so?"

When Darlene straightened from the sideboard she was holding a pistol.

"Call your father right now, and tell him to get over here. Armed." Darlene's words were cold and calm. Lily's stomach dropped in her gut.

She reached for Darlene's phone, a relic from another time which hung on the wall, its cord coiled like a snake.

Darlene walked to the sliding glass door as she dialed the numbers, each tone sounding long and drawn out, Darlene pulled the long curtains closed with a snap.

"Dad?" Lily said, when Mulder answered.

"Hey Lil!" he sounded so relaxed, excited just to talk to her though he'd seen her that morning.

"Dad, I'm at Darlene's. She says to get over here. She said to bring your gun."

She heard his sharp inhale. “I’m coming,” he said, and then she heard a dial tone.

"Lily," said Darlene, walking over to her computer, which was booted up and sitting on her dining room table, cords snaking out of it and across the floor. She quickly typed hunt-and-peck with her right hand, the gun still clutched in her left. "I want you to go into the top right drawer in my dresser. In a small lockbox, code 9-10-9-3, you'll find an old Nokia phone. It should be fully charged. It’s untraceable. Do not turn it on. Take it. Put it somewhere safe -- your bra or your sock or underwear. Then get under my bed."

Lily walked to the hallway, her body on autopilot, her heart hammering and her blood roaring in her veins.

Darlene finished typing, clicked a few things with her mouse and then peeked an eye out the closed curtain toward the backyard, tapping the gun against the side of her thigh.

Pausing in the hallway, Lily turned back to Darlene.

"Is someone coming?" Lily asked.

"Kid," Darlene said, shooting her a look, "they're already here."

#MSR #AU #Sequel #Of the Eight Winds #shits getting real for the mulder family #fanfic #XF #my fic

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atc74 · 4 years

Text

Hi, Again

Warnings: Fluff, angst (if you squint), Jensen being smooth, but the reader being smoother...

Summary: Jensen arrives to pick Y/N up for their date. She surely expected a fancy restaurant with overpriced tiny portions, but what she gets is something entirely different.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1610

Written for: @evansrogerskitten

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, my enabler for life

A/N: This is the long awaited sequel to Hi (read this first!), which was written as a request for @evansrogerskitten for a follower contest. This is a very special birthday gift, for a very special lady and very special friend. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASH! I hope you have an amazing day! I love you lady!

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

Like Jensen’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Previously in “Hi”

A tall gentleman in a black suit approached me with a sign that had my name on it. “Miss Y/N? I’m Philip and I will be your driver tonight. Please, follow me.” He led me to a large black SUV and held the back door open. When I looked up, the first thing I saw was Jensen’s face smiling at me. He held his hand out for me and smiled as I stepped inside, sliding into the seat next to him.

“Hi.”

Now...

“Hi,” I smiled back, my hand still in his.

“Hi,” Jensen said. “And, I already said that. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous, if you couldn’t tell.”

I laughed. I was sitting with Jensen Ackles in the back of a black SUV with heavily tinted windows in Vegas, after a Supernatural convention. Then I realized I was laughing and attempted to pull myself together. “Jensen, I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at this. It’s all a little surreal for me. What am I doing here?”

“What I said to you during the photo was the truth. For nearly a year, I have looked at every woman with even the slightest hint of red hair, just waiting for you to come through the line again, but it was never you. I had finally convinced myself I would never see you again, and then you were there, right in front of me. It was coincidence that brought you through my photos in Seattle, but I think it was serendipity that brought us together today.” Jensen clamped his mouth shut when he realized he was rambling.

“Serendipity?” I giggled, a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just not a word one hears in everyday conversation. Then again, this isn’t every day, is it?”

“But I feel it just...it fits,” Jensen chuckled, shrugging. “Even if it does sound a bit silly. I’m sorry if I caught you off guard. I don’t do this, like ever. But, I think Jared was sick of listening to me go on and on about you and he made me promise to ask you out if I ever saw you again. So you are here for two reasons; one, because I am a man of my word and two, you said yes.”

“I’d be a fool to say no. Or, I might be a fool for saying yes,” I said quietly, turning to look out the window at the desert flying by.

A warm hand landed on my arm and I turned back, regarding Jensen’s touch on my heated skin. “I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re brave for taking a chance like this. On me.”

I’d seen plenty of interviews and convention footage, but this might be the first time I’ve witnessed Jensen channel Dean Winchester. It was no secret that he’d been single for some time now, but at this very moment, he didn’t think he deserved a chance.

“Don’t do that, Jensen. Let’s have dinner and play it by ear. Who knows, by the end of the night, you might be changing your mind,” I winked, laying my hand over his.

“You’re wrong, but I think that sounds like a solid plan. We’re almost there,” he smiled, looking out the window.

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying desperately to figure out where we were. I didn’t think Jensen was a serial killer, but we were out in the middle of the desert.

“It’s a surprise, okay? Just a little bit longer, Y/N,” Jensen replied.

“You’re not taking me out to the desert to kill me, are you? I’ve watched enough television to know what happens out here at night,” I giggled nervously.

“Now that you’ve figured out my plan, I might as well get on with it,” Jensen scoffed, pulling my hand towards him quickly.

I was startled but the only sound I managed was a tiny squeak. I looked up and was met with the kindest smile and prettiest green eyes. His touch traveled the length of my arm until our fingers were entwined. He raised our joined hands and pressed a soft kiss to the back of my hand.

“It was indeed my plan to kill you...with kindness, and wow you with a really romantic dinner. Is that not okay with you?” And there it was, the patented Dean Winchester smirk, followed by a wink.

“Oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m ruining it!” I covered my face with my free hand, shaking my head. I took a deep breath before daring to meet his eyes. “That is actually really sweet and sounds like a great idea.”

“Awesome.”

We came to a stop, but as I reached for the door, Jensen stopped me, his hand still holding mine. “Just a few minutes longer. I’ll be right back. Please don’t get out. Or peek.” The look on his face told me he was serious, but there was an underlying twinkle in those green eyes, and I found myself nodding my promise to stay put.

As Jensen and Philip exited the vehicle, I took the opportunity to calm my nerves. I gave myself a quick pep talk and tried to remember what the volunteer had told me, more than once. “Don’t be nervous; he is a nice handsome boy, but he is still just a person.”

“He’s just a man, Y/N. This is just a date. You can do this. You are not going to f-” my pep talk was interrupted when my door swung open to reveal Jensen and his smiling, stupidly handsome face. My thoughts got the better of me. Yeah right. He’s just a man. He’s just the most beautiful human ever created.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

Jensen took my hand once more in his, helping me step down from the vehicle. He placed both his hands on my shoulders, looked into my eyes and I was mesmerized. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t know why, but I did. I had absolutely no reason to trust this man, but I did. “I trust you, Jensen.”

He smiled wider than the Grand Canyon and turned my body away from him. It was then that I felt his hands covering my eyes. “No peeking, Y/N.”

We walked several feet, me shuffling carefully in front of him until he slowed his pace and I felt his hands slip from my eyes. “Keep your eyes closed for me, sugar.”

My skin tingled from his touch, my heart from his endearment. I nodded, feeling him slide around my body. “We’re going to sit down, right here. I got you, easy now.”

My body lowered to the ground, something soft covering it, a blanket maybe? “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking and taking in the surrounding area. It was breathtaking, and I stared in silence at the scene before me. We were sitting on a mountain side, high above the desert plains, and looking down at the Hoover Dam. It was lit up from the base in a cool blue light. With Lake Mead an inky midnight blue behind it, I’d never seen it look more beautiful, more ethereal.

“This is remarkable, Jensen.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m also hoping that this doesn’t outshine the rest of the evening I have planned,” he chuckled slightly, reaching behind him and revealing a honest to goodness picnic basket.

“Look at you, playing the romantic-picnic-overlooking-a-national-landmark-card,” I mentioned casually.

“Is it working?” Jensen winked. There was enough moonlight to see each other as it highlighted Black Canyon and the Colorado River below us.

“Hmmmm,” I coyly toyed with him, tapping my index finger against my lips. “Whatchya got in there?”

“Oh do I have stuff,” Jensen announced excitedly as he opened the basket, laying everything out in front of us. “We have a taco buffet with all the fixings, like five different types of salsa, chips, fresh guacamole and, wait for it...a pitcher of margaritas!”

“How did you do all this?” I was stunned. “And, have you been spying on me? Who told you I love Mexican?”

“I knew it!” Jensen pumped his fist victoriously. “Really it was a long shot, but I was craving Mexican and thought, what psycho doesn’t love tacos?”

“Holy crap! You just quoted Dean Winchester, but swapped waffles for tacos!” I laughed so hard I think I may have snorted.

“That was honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jensen laughed, pulling me into his arms.

We had a peaceful dinner overlooking the dam and the surrounding mountains, playing twenty questions about our lives. Jensen reached into the basket and pulled out yet another container. “And the piece de resistance.”

“Did you bring chocolate cake?” I eyed the decadence filled container with lustful eyes.

“Damn girl. Forget the way Dean Winchester looks at pie. I want you to look at me like you’re eying up this cake!” Jensen laughed, pulling the cover off and waving it in front of my mouth.

“Jensen, do not tease me. I will eat that with my fingers!” I warned him, but he didn’t give up. I reached up with two fingers, dipping into the cake and sliding them into my mouth, feeling bold.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, almost indiscernible over the sounds I was making. I noticed he seemed uncomfortable, but he teased me with cake, I could tease him back. I dipped my fingers back into the cake and held them in front of Jensen’s mouth. He took the bait. He grabbed my wrist with one large hand and halted my movements. His tongue snaked out, licking a bit of the sweet dessert from my fingers, before he dipped his head, sucking both of my fingers into his mouth.

The sounds coming from his mouth were purely pornographic, to say the least. I felt my nether regions tingle at the sight and sounds of Jensen Ackles licking chocolate cake from my fingers. Feeling even bolder, I leaned in, licking the rements from his lower lip. “Fuck, that’s delicious.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, sugar.”

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @manawhaat @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield @emoryhemsworth @imaginationisgrowth

Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @adoptdontshoppets @supernatural-jackles @fandom-princess-forevermore @akshi8278 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deanwanddamons

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen #supernatural rpf #evansrogerskitten #for the birthday girl

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chipsandcoffee · 4 years

Text

Whouffaldi Fanfic

“You Sound Like a Song”

Post-Hell-Bent, fix-it of sorts, memory loss, confessions, angst, romance, eternal love, s10 spoilers, canon compliant (well technically at least), cameo appearance by Bill Potts

Also on AO3 at this link.

______________

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. But that was all he knew.

The list of things the Doctor didn't know about Clara was so much longer and went so much deeper, prodding away at him from a restless corner of his mind. What was she like? What had they meant to each other? Why would he have wiped the memory of her from his mind? And the one question that troubled him most: what had happened to her?

He ruminated on these questions yet again as he slumped in a leather armchair in his office at St. Luke's University, absent-mindedly strumming his guitar. He often felt a sense of melancholy on these solitary nights. Nothing was sad until it was over, he thought. Then everything was.

He had spent a long time trying to look for Clara (being stuck on Earth for a number of years hadn’t stopped him, for he was based where she was most likely to be). Of course he didn't know who he was looking for (hadn't someone told him that once?), but he believed he would know her if he met her again, and she would surely know him. But it had never happened. And he’d never heard a word from her.

He'd eventually reached the most logical and painful conclusion: she was dead. She'd likely been dead all along, even before he’d erased her from his memory (he could tell he’d used a neural block, could feel the sensation of a hole in his mind where something ought to be). Maybe that was why he'd taken the drastic step of eliminating those memories in the first place: her death had simply been too painful for him to bear.

He obviously had no idea how Clara had died, but he had the painful feeling that it had somehow been his fault. Hers was probably another life cut tragically short because of him, just like too many other people he’d been close to.

Indeed, he’d experienced more than his fair share of loss over his long life, and the last few decades had certainly been no exception. River had gone to her inevitable death shortly before he’d arrived in Bristol (at least by his timeline). He’d also very nearly presided over the execution of Missy before rescuing his oldest friend and bringing her to St. Luke’s. But for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, the very idea of Clara being dead made his hearts ache in a way nothing else did. Perhaps more than anything else ever had.

It was strange grieving for someone he didn’t remember. His grief after losing River had made sense to him, and he’d been able to move on from it (even if Nardole, devoted to River as always, continued to assume that any sign of sorrow from the Doctor was connected to his late wife). But he had a vague, shapeless sense of loss deep in his bones that he knew, he just knew, was the grief he was still carrying for Clara. He obsessed over the unknown and unknowable details of her life, their life, and her presumed death.

His grief frequently bubbled up to the surface when he played his guitar. In fact, as he sat there in the shadows of his office, he realized that he'd once again started playing a variation of a song from long ago that he knew was called “Clara.” Bill was always curious about that tune, but he'd never told her its true title. How would he begin to explain the story behind it when he didn’t understand it himself?

The Doctor suddenly recalled with regret that he’d been rather curt with Bill earlier that day when she'd teased him that that particular song was the only one he knew how to play. He thought maybe he should say something to her by way of apology when he saw her again. He also knew he was rubbish at such conversations, so he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fished out the stack of dog-eared index cards that he relied on for such occasions. He'd had them for many years, each card a neatly-written sentence that he could use in tricky social situations (which for him was most social situations). One of his companions had probably made them for him at some point, but he couldn't remember who. He liked to imagine they came from Clara, that he still had something tangible left of her that he carried with him. He wondered if she would have liked that.

The Doctor put his guitar aside, ran his hand down his face, and started pacing around his office. All this brooding wasn't doing him any good. He needed a distraction. He paused, fingers drumming on his desk, as his eyes fell on his TARDIS parked in the corner following his last outing with Bill. He'd been thinking recently that the timeship’s interface stabilizer could use an upgrade; that would keep him busy for a while. But he’d need to get his hands on a few parts first. He considered his options.

His favourite place to get spare parts for the TARDIS was at a marketplace on the planet Haligonia. Of course Nardole would give him grief if he found out that the Doctor had travelled off world, but Nardole was currently occupied with tinkering with the locks on the vault deep under St. Luke’s and likely would be for a while. The Doctor could be gone and back before Nardole knew he’d left. He rubbed his hands together, his decision made. He pushed open the TARDIS doors.

A few minutes later, the Doctor was strolling through the bustling marketplace on 48th-century Haligonia. The planet was a human colony, but the well-known market attracted shoppers of a variety of species from all over the galaxy. It was a warm, sunny day, and the breeze carried smells of local street foods as he made his way past vendors selling everything from the latest tech gadgets to exotic jewellery to flowers of every possible colour.

Soon enough he spotted the parts dealer’s stall. As he approached it he noticed there was a rather spirited conversation going on between the tall, burly dealer and a petite young woman. The customer was dark-haired and wore a black leather jacket with a well-worn satchel slung over her shoulder. Her clear voice stood out over the din of the market, and as the Doctor walked up behind her, he could hear her haggling over the price of something.

“Come on, this would've cost less when it was new than what you’re asking for it now.”

The dealer folded his arms. “Yeah, well life’s not fair, lady. And if you can find it new somewhere else, feel free to buy it there.”

“Fine,” she said nonchalantly, “I will then.” The woman spun around and began striding off, nearly walking into the Doctor.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him. She did a double take and suddenly froze, staring at him, her strikingly large eyes becoming impossibly larger. She stood stock still for a long moment. “Doctor,” she breathed.

He peered down at her, knitting his eyebrows and squinting slightly. “Have we met?”

“Yeah, yeah we've met,” she said faintly, sounding dazed. She continued to stare at him, and now her eyes were starting to look distinctly watery.

The Doctor became increasingly concerned that this stranger might inexplicably burst into tears right in front of him, a prospect that he found rather frightening. He reached into his pocket for his social cue cards in a desperate attempt to find something to say that might diffuse whatever was happening.

He found one of his frequently-used cards, and recited, “I apologize for not recognizing you. I am a time traveller and I sometimes meet people out of order.”

The woman tore her eyes away from the Doctor's face to look at what he was holding. However, much to the Doctor's horror the card had only made things worse, as she had clasped her hand over her mouth and a tear trickled down her face.

“I, um,” he spluttered, his arms flailing.

The woman suddenly seemed to snap out of her emotional state and darted her eyes around the marketplace, as though searching for an escape route. “I'm um, I'm so sorry,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to smile. “Have a good day.” And with that she turned and strode away without a backwards glance.

The Doctor felt somewhat relieved that this problematic encounter appeared to have resolved itself. But he also felt responsible for upsetting this person, and he found himself chasing after her through the crowd of shoppers.

“You there,” he said, starting to catch up to her. “Are you okay?”

He thought she must not have heard him, because she kept on walking. But then she came to a sudden halt, and the Doctor had to stop himself from running into her from behind. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned around, her face somehow conveying trepidation and relief at the same time. The Doctor was baffled how she managed to do that.

The woman heaved a long sigh. “I am so sick of hiding from you.” The Doctor frowned as she stepped towards him, the crowd swirling around them. “The reason I recognize you but you don't recognize me isn't because of time travel. It's because you’ve forgotten me.” She paused for a second and wiped away a tear. “You, um, you chose to forget me.”

The Doctor felt as though his hearts had stopped and that all the blood had drained from his face. His mouth fell slightly open. Some distant part of his brain thought he must look like he'd seen a ghost. To him he had.

“Clara,” he whispered. It wasn't a question. He knew somehow, he was certain who she was.

“Yeah,” she whispered in return, gazing into his eyes.

“You're not dead,” he blurted out, immediately realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

“Yeah,” she frowned. “Why? Have you remembered--”

“I haven't remembered anything. I'd just… guessed. That-- that you were dead.”

Clara looked into the Doctor’s eyes and he immediately felt like she could see into his soul, into every lonely, hopeless night he’d spent grieving for her. Her face grew concerned.

“Oh, Doctor.” She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, and the Doctor surprised himself by not flinching under her touch. “I think we should talk.”

______________

A few minutes later, the Doctor found himself incredibly, miraculously sitting with Clara at a small table in the corner of a quiet cafe on a back street near the marketplace, a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of each of them. They sat in silence at first as they stole glances at one another and tried to figure out how to navigate this strange situation.

“I like your coat,” Clara started, nodding at the blue-lined black velvet jacket he'd favoured of late.

“Oh, um, thanks.” He felt himself blushing. He wasn't used to people saying that sort of thing to him. Another moment passed and he asked, “How did you travel here?”

“In my TARDIS,” she answered easily, as though that were something that humans did all the time.

“What?” He was flabbergasted. “You have a TARDIS? How?”

Clara sighed. “Oh, this is going to be a very long story, Doctor.”

Several cups of tea later, Clara had told the Doctor the story of their final days together: the raven on Trap Street, the Doctor pulling Clara from her time stream on Gallifrey (which partly explained the vague memories he’d had of being trapped for a very long time in his confession dial), and her escape in a stolen TARDIS (oddly with the immortal woman Ashildr).

Once Clara had finished her story, the Doctor sat in stunned silence, attempting to make sense of it all, of the extreme lengths he'd gone to for Clara. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he’d actually plucked this woman from her time stream right before her death. And here she sat, still time-looped. Still, in essence, alive.

“You know how to fly a TARDIS?” It probably wasn’t the most important question, but it’s the one that popped out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling, and the Doctor thought her laugh was perhaps the loveliest thing he’d ever heard. “I picked up a thing or two in the years we travelled together.”

The Doctor was impressed. “So how long has it been for you since you last saw me?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure anymore. A while back I stopped keeping track of how long it’d been. It was--” She paused, lowering her eyes, a hint of pain crossing her face. She cleared her throat, met his eye again and continued, “I figured that was for the best. But I guess it must be close to a hundred years now.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think it's almost exactly the same for me."

The corners of Clara's mouth quirked up. "Yeah, that's just the way things seem to go with us. We've always been… connected, somehow.”

“What have you been doing all that time?”

“Oh you know, flying about a bit, watching the odd star being born, saving the odd planet.”

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh at Clara's jokingly casual tone, and he marvelled to himself at this amazing woman. But there was an important issue that Clara hadn’t yet explained.

“So why don’t I remember you, Clara? Based on the type of amnesia that I experienced, I’m guessing that I used a neural block of some sort?”

Clara’s face turned serious and she glanced down.

“Um, yeah, you did.” She gave a puzzled frown. “It's weird though, I saw you shortly after the neural block, and you seemed to remember a bit more than you do now. At least some of what had happened on Gallifrey.”

“Ah, well it's not uncommon in the early stages following a neural block to be left with some disjointed shards of memories. Over time, if the brain can't process those fragments, they're forgotten. It's sort of like forgetting a dream shortly after awakening.”

“Right, okay.”

The Doctor searched her face. “Clara, why did I use a neural block to forget you?”

Clara looked upwards as if searching for inspiration on how to respond to the Doctor’s question, tears threatening in her eyes again. She took a deep breath.

“It wasn't meant to be you, not at first.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, um, you were going to use the neural block on me. You thought I'd be safer from the Time Lords if I didn't remember you.”

The Doctor frowned in confusion. “So what happened?”

Clara lowered her eyes. “I used your sonic sunglasses to reverse the polarity on the neural blocker when you weren't looking.”

“You what?”

“I didn't want it to go off on you, I just didn't want you to use it on me.” She began to raise her voice while a tear spilled down her face. “I didn't want you to use it at all, I told you what I'd done!”

Her voice broke and she paused, catching her breath and wiping her face. The Doctor felt a rush of sympathy and heartache for her. He realized that as difficult as it had been for him to live with his missing memories, Clara had suffered too, in a different way: she'd had to carry around the weight of everything they'd been through, while he had been blissfully ignorant.

Clara continued, speaking more quickly as she got through the rest of her story. “So. You didn't know at that point what would happen when the button on the blocker was pressed. That's when you suggested that we both press the button together, knowing that one of us would forget the other, but not knowing which one. Better than flipping a coin, you said.” Clara dropped her gaze and her voice fell to nearly a whisper. “And I guess you kind of lost the coin toss.”

The Doctor watched Clara for a moment, her head bowed. Then he found himself leaning forward and placing his hand on hers. Clara looked up at him, surprised at the contact.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For everything, I guess. For forgetting you. For trying to make you forget me. I'm sorry that you feel bad about what happened with my memories, because it wasn't your fault, Clara. We knew the risks and we pressed that button together.”

She squeezed his hand, a hint of relief on her face.

“You didn't say why I thought one of us needed to forget the other,” the Doctor continued. “But I think I'm starting to understand. Everything I did, the confession dial, the extraction chamber, my plan to hide you away and make you forget me.” The Doctor felt his hearts stirring as he now wrapped Clara's hand in both of his. “I think I would have torn the sky apart for you, Clara Oswald. And I think I knew that.”

A sad smile crossed Clara's face. “And I would have done the same for you.”

The Doctor and Clara gazed silently at each other, her small hand wrapped in his two, lost in the universe that was each other's eyes.

After a while Clara swallowed, leaned forward, and spoke in a quiet voice. “Doctor, there's one more thing I still haven't told you. When you and I were on Gallifrey, we sat together in the Cloisters, and I told you something important, something I'd never told you before.” Clara took her free hand and laid it on top of his, her eyes round and sparkling. “I told you that I loved you. That I'd always loved you and I always would, and that I wished I'd told you a long time ago. That maybe if I had, things would have turned out differently.”

The Doctor had been surprised by many things Clara had told him that day, but somehow her declaration of love wasn't one of them. He’d known it, felt it, from the moment he'd met her in the market outside.

“And how did I respond?” he whispered, scarcely breathing.

Clara gave another sad smile and shook her head. “You didn't. That was the moment you got the service hatch open and, well, we had to keep running.”

“Ah,” was all he could think of to say.

“Yeah. We’ve had a lot of bad timing, you and me.”

As if to emphasize the point, the cafe owner at that moment walked by their table and turned off the “open” sign in the window, pointedly clearing his throat as he did so.The Doctor glanced around and realized that he and Clara had been alone in the cafe for quite some time.

“I think we’re being kicked out,” Clara whispered loudly, her eyes twinkling.

“Looks like it,” the Doctor replied with a crooked grin.

Outside, the Haligonian night had fallen, and the streets were nearly empty. The planet's two champagne-coloured moons shone overhead, and the air felt damp and cool after the warmth of the day. The Doctor and Clara wandered together through the town for a while, swapping tales of adventures and wild escapes, their bursts of laughter ringing through the stillness of the evening. The streets and laneways they walked eventually gave way to a green, park-like area on the edge of town where the scent of blossoming trees drifted through the night air. The Doctor wished they could keep walking forever, but as his TARDIS came into view in the moonlight, he was reminded that their magical day had to come to an end.

They walked together across the dewy grass and stopped near his blue box, standing in an uncertain silence, the only sound a nocturnal bird calling in the distance. Clara finally spoke. “So what happens now? Me and you, what do we do now?” The hint of tears glistening in her eyes told the Doctor that she probably already knew the answer.

“Oh, Clara. I don't even need my memories to know that there’s nothing in this universe I’d like more than to travel with you again. But I said today that I would have torn the sky apart for you all those years ago, and I know in my hearts I still would. And that you’d still do the same for me.”

He took a step closer to her. “Everything you’ve told me, everything I can see and feel now tells me that we were amazing together. But also that we were dangerous. And I don't think there’s any way to stop that from happening again, because of who we are, and because of--” He paused and took a deep breath. “And because of how we feel about each other.”

Clara looked down and nodded, a tear falling to the ground. “Yeah,” she whispered.

The Doctor tenderly placed his hand on Clara’s cheek, and she looked up at him. Clara had told him so much that day. Now there was something he felt he had to tell her, something that was burning within him. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by again, not this time.

“Clara, I never got the chance to respond to you in the Cloisters, and I know a lot of time has passed since then and I’ve forgotten so much. But I know, I’m certain of one thing. I loved you, Clara Oswald. I loved you-- I love you with both my hearts. And I always will.”

Clara smiled up at him, even as another tear rolled down her cheek. The Doctor wiped away the tear with his thumb, feeling dizzy with the emotions swirling inside him. He found himself slowly leaning towards her, feeling a pull as irresistible and inevitable as gravity, as Clara ran her hand up his arm. Their lips met in a soft, heartfelt kiss. To the Doctor it felt surprisingly natural, right, perfect. It felt like the long-awaited conclusion to a conversation begun 100 years ago.

The Doctor stepped back and took Clara's hand as he stood there smiling softly at her, warmth and contentment infusing his body. She smiled back at him, all dimples and shiny eyes.

“I’m really glad I got to see you, Doctor.”

“I’m really glad I got to see you too, Clara Oswald.”

But his smile faltered as the reality of his situation sunk in. Clara frowned.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?”

He released her hand and sighed. “My neural block, Clara. I don’t know what'll happen when I leave tonight. Seeing you today, talking to you, learning all about you, about us. I don’t want to forget any of it, not again. But my brain has blocked my memories of you for a very long time, and I'm afraid it'll do it again.”

Clara’s face was filled with concern. “There must be something we can do.”

He shook his head and half-shrugged his shoulders.

Clara’s eyes lit up. “Hang on, I have an idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and opened her satchel. After some rummaging around, she pulled out a small cardboard box and opened it. “I carry these around with me. They still come in handy for all kinds of things.”

______________

Bill started packing up her things as the day’s tutorial with the Doctor wrapped up.

The Doctor was sitting behind his massive desk, continuing to flip through the book they'd been discussing. “And don’t forget that your research paper on laser-cooled ions is due tomorrow.”

Bill rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good.” The Doctor tried to look stern, but he had a feeling he wasn’t quite pulling it off. Tossing aside the book, he stood and picked up his guitar from the chair where he'd left it, wandering around his office as he played the song that he now knew was named for the woman he loved.

Bill paused as she walked towards the door. “Don't think I've heard that version before. It's, I dunno, cheerier.”

The Doctor smiled to himself. “Good night, Bill.”

“‘Night, Doctor. See ya tomorrow.”

Now alone, the Doctor played for a while longer before setting his guitar down. He relaxed into his favourite armchair and reflected on how different things were for him since his trip to Haligonia a few weeks earlier. He could still remember much of his wondrous encounter with Clara, though some of the details were growing hazy, almost as though the whole thing had been a dream. Sometimes he thought maybe it had been a dream. But whenever that unsettling feeling arose, he would do as he did now. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small stack of index cards. Some were old and dog-eared, but some were new. All of them had the same neat handwriting, and now he knew whose handwriting it was.

He picked out the new cards. The one on top read, “Clara is alive and doing well. She wants you to be happy.” He gave a contented sigh. The next two were his favourites.

“Clara loves you. She always has and always will.”

“You told Clara that you love her, and she will always cherish that.”

He smiled even as his eyes felt wet with tears (perhaps he was malfunctioning). He gazed at the cards for a long time, his fingers running lightly over the words.

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. He knew she was still out there, exploring the universe. He knew they'd loved each other deeply and truly, and they always would.

He also knew that nothing was sad until it was over. And he and Clara would never be over. Not in his hearts, not ever.

______________

Thank you for reading! This is my first fic and any feedback would be very welcome and appreciated!

#i'm so nervous/excited to finally publish this #my first fic #whouffaldi #fanfic #fan fiction #my fanfic

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talesofstyles · 5 years

Text

The Kitchen’s Closed

What have we got here? Just a short, unedited (I’m sorry this is poorly written but I quite like the idea so screw it ahahah), 2.5k piece to get a peek inside The Styles household and how they do Father’s Day. Apparently, the missus thought it was a good idea to book Harry an appointment for a vasectomy on Father’s Day. What can I say? We only stan a Queen over here.

“Ah, there you are,” you smiled as Harry walked into the kitchen after doing the school run. You were stood behind the kitchen island, sipping your cup of coffee that had been reheated in the microwave for at least four times since 7am because you just couldn’t sit in peace before you send the big kids to school. “I’ve just called them and they’re actually fully booked for the next three weeks, but luckily someone cancelled so there’s a slot on June 16th.”

“June 16th?” Harry questioned, walking closer to open the fridge behind you and get a bottled water. “Isn’t that Father’s Day?”

You nodded as you took another sip of your coffee. “It’s at 5pm so we’ve still got all day with the kids. ‘Sides the whole process only takes what- like, half an hour?”

“I take that you’ve booked an appointment for me, then?” He smiled as he put the water on the counter so he could wrap his hands around your waist from behind you.

You hummed. “I’ll go with you, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, only to make sure I get it done,” he scoffed and you giggled before you turned around to face him. Still smiling as you instinctively reached your hand to fix the collar on his shirt.

“S’my Father’s Day present for you,” you smirked and he rolled his eyes.

“Y’know, I’ll take macaroni frames over vasectomy any day.”

***

Every year, a couple of days before Father’s Day, you would sat all of your kids down and interview them about their daddy. It was just something that you had thought of doing even before you had your first baby, and Harry always cherishes that gift the most over any other things that you give him. But as the kids grew older though, you printed the questions out instead for the big kids so they could write their answers and add some drawings because sitting in front of the camera was no longer fun to some of them. Luckily for you the young’uns were still small enough—and weren’t able to write yet—so you could still sat them down and record them.

You had printed out three pages for your 10, 8 and 6 year old to fill on the dining table before you sat your 4 and 2 year old down in the playroom where you had already set up a camera. Your littlest was only eight weeks old, so for the moment, a little handprint keepsake would do for his first Father’s Day gift.

“Can you tell me what’s your name and how old are you?” You asked your little girl from behind the camera whilst her brother waited for his turn patiently beside you. You wanted to take a video of each of them individually.

“I’m Charlotte and I’m two and a half! M’a big girl!” Your little girl beamed as she held up two of her fingers.

“You are! What is your daddy’s name?” You asked her the first question on the list.

“Daddy!” She answered proudly, and you and her older brother giggled before he whispered, “it’s Harry!”

“No, it’s not! His name is daddy,” she insisted and her older brother giggled even louder.

“We call him daddy, but Harry is his real name,” he tried to explain to his little sister but it was still confusing to her.

“How old is your daddy?” You decided to move on with the questions because there was a chance that your littlest might wake up from his nap soon.

“Very old,” Charlotte mumbled.

You cackled at your daughter’s response. “How tall is your daddy?”

“Very tall.”

“What is your daddy’s job?” You asked her the next question on the list.

“I don’t know,” she plays with the hem of her dress as she answered.

You decided to just continue with the next question. “What is your daddy’s favourite colour?”

“I don’t know,” she paused for a second to rub her nose with the back of her palm. “I don’t know a lot of things.”

You chuckled. “That’s quite alright. What’s your daddy really good at?”

“Flippin’ pancakes!” She exclaimed excitedly, raising one of her fists in triumph because she knew the answer this time.

“What is your daddy’s favourite food?” You smiled at your two and a half year old as you asked her the next question on the list.

“Peas n’ ice cream,” she answered. “I like ice cream too, mummy, s’my favourite!”

“I know you do,” you replied before you went on with the questions. “What makes daddy laugh?”

“Everything,” she grinned. “Daddy laughs a lot!”

You chuckled at her response again before you continued. “What makes daddy happy?”

“Me!” She exclaimed excitedly again, pointing her index finger to herself. “Daddy says m’his best girl!”

“Do you know anything that daddy likes to do?”

She hummed and nodded. “Sleeping!”

“What’s the thing daddy always says?”

“Charlotte,” she said her own name, raising her little finger up in the air as if she was lecturing someone. “Be nice!”

You snorted with laughter at her attempt to mimic Harry’s gesture, knowing that not once Harry ever did that so you clearly got a little actress in your hands. “What’s your favourite thing about daddy?”

“He gives the best cuddles!” She beamed. “I like it when he’s cuddling me, he’s very warm.”

You smiled at her, thinking Harry would probably shed a tear or two when he watch that part of the video. “Do you love your daddy?”

“Yes, I do,” she nodded eagerly before she opened her arms widely. “This much!”

“Why?”

“Because my daddy is very silly. And he lets me sit on his shoulders sometimes,” she giggled.

You’ve got no more questions on the list, but you followed through her answer. “Do you like it when daddy lets you sit on his shoulders?”

She hummed. “S’the highest place in the world!”

***

“Are you ready?” You asked your children before you sent them to wake Harry up. Harry was usually the first to wake up, but with a newborn at home, he ditched his routine of never staying in bed after eight am to stay in bed and get any sleep that he could get for as long as he could.

You put your eldest son in charge of bringing a tray of stacked doughnuts for breakfast whilst your daughter insisted on carrying a cup of coffee for him. The rest of your children were holding some balloons and some cards that they made for him.

When you opened the door to your master bedroom, Harry was already awake and he was scrolling through his phone. “Happy Father’s Day, daddy!”

“Oh my God,” he looked at you and your whole brood of children in surprise even though they always do it every year. He quickly sat up and put his phone down on the bedside table, reaching his arms out to take the tray from your oldest and placed it on his side before he leaned forward to hug each of his littles and kissed them on the forehead. “Thank you SO much, that’s really sweet of you.”

“We’ve got something for you, daddy!” Your six year old excitedly showed him the paper of her answers, along with another paper of a drawing of Harry and her, as well as the little card that she made.

“Oh, that’s amazing, thank you!” Harry looked through everything, reading their answers about him and saw the drawings of him and his littles that no doubt would be up on the wall somewhere. “I love you so much.”

“Daddy,” Charlotte piped from beside him, rubbing her eyes before she continued. “Mummy said your name is not daddy. Is it true?”

Harry chuckled as he took the baby from your arm. “Yes, my name is Harry. I thought you know that?”

“We can’t call you daddy then?” She frowned, making her siblings laugh.

“Of course you can, poppet,” he answered her. “My name is Harry but you call me daddy. Just like mummy, her name is not mummy,”

Charlotte gasped and turned around to look at you. “Your name isn’t mummy?!”

You snorted in laughter as you handed him an envelope of your gift for him nonchalantly. “Hope you like it.”

“’Ave yeh got a drawing f’me as well?” He smirked as he opened the envelope, taking out the papers and you smiled as his eyes widened in surprise. “Are you- oh my God, are you joking?!”

“That would be mean, wouldn’t it?” You giggled as he reached out his hand, the one that wasn’t holding the baby, for you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Tenerife, just the two of us,” he blinked. “God, love, that sounds like a dream.”

“Actually,” you paused. “The baby is coming with us.”

“Oh, is he?” He looked down at the baby as he started to coo at him in his dad voice. “Who’s gonna be the cutest third wheel? You are! Yes you are!”

“You like it, then?” You asked him.

He looked up at you. “Are you joking? Of course I do! C’mere,” he pulled you closer again before he pressed his lips against yours, earning a chorused “ew!” from your whole brood of children.

Eleanor immediately covered Charlotte’s eyes playfully, and she whined. “Hey! I can’t see!”

“Come on, eat your doughnut,” Harry said, tilting his head to the stack of doughnuts on the tray. “The weather is quite nice so we’ll put our swimsuits on and daddy will take out the paddling pool.”

***

“Do we really have to go?” Harry paced around your bedroom anxiously as he waited for you to get ready. The babysitters—yes you always hire two at the same—would arrive soon.

“Yes we do,” you tried to stifle your snigger. “It’s a really simple surgery, Harry, won’t take longer than 20 minutes.”

“Think m’balls know what’s going on and have gone into hiding,” Harry mumbled nervously. “They seem to have retracted into my body.”

“Your balls are fine, H. I’m sure they’re still there,” you snorted in laughter, shaking your head. And the doorbell rang before Harry got the chance to respond. “That must be Penny and Sara.”

“Should I tell them to go back home? I’ll still pay them of course, but-” Harry began to panic.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling, watching Harry sighed heavily as he walked out of the door.

You double checked for the extra underwear for Harry in your handbag that was required before you head downstairs. When you got down, Harry was talking with your babysitters to let them know how long were you going out and that you’d already prepared dinner for the kids and them so all they needed to do was just to reheat it. Luckily for you, they had been watching your babies forever so the kids didn’t need to warm up to them anymore. Finding someone—in your case even two people—whom you can trust with your babies outside of your family and friends were something that you knew you couldn’t take for granted.

“You ready?” You smiled teasingly at Harry as you buckled your seatbelt.

“Not at all,” Harry shook his head. “Think I’d rather have another child.”

You gave him a death stare. “Absolutely not. Nuh uh, sorry mate kitchen’s closed.”

“Sure you don’t want one more? We can just turn around and make one right now before it’s too late,” he joked and you swat his arm playfully.

“You’re mental,” you rolled your eyes.

“God I have to get naked in front of people that I don’t know,” he sighed. “And there’ll be needles. God, my balls.”

“Hey, I pushed six babies out with your huge arse head and you’re whining because they’re gonna took a tiny snip at your balls?”

“You’re right, s’just a tiny snip,” he agreed. “Are you gonna go inside with me in the surgery room?”

“Why? Do you want me to hold your hand?” You smirked at him.

“I mean, you don’t have to. Whatever,” he rambled. “S’cool if you don’t want to. Just-”

“I’ll hold your hand, H,” you chuckled, reassured him. “Calm down, s’nothing, yeah? The worst thing that could happen is just if the scalpel slipped and they cut your balls in half.”

“HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO HELP?!”

***

“How are your balls?” You glanced at Harry for a second as you started driving.

“I don’t feel a thing,” he replied. “Think they’ve chopped them off.”

You cackled. “You’re still numb then. Do you still want to have dinner first or should we just head home?”

“I can’t walk properly, but we could get something and eat in the car?” He suggested and you nodded.

“Tell me how you feel, not just physically, but, you know…” you trailed off.

“A bit of everything,” he smiled. “I mean I don’t regret it, I know that we’re done having children but that doesn’t mean I’m not sad about it, although I know that’s what we want. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do,” you blinked.

“How about you? Tell me what you feel,” he questioned. “Because this is not just about me, it affects both of us the same.”

“Exactly the same,” you sighed and smiled at him for a second. “This is right for us and this is what we want, but still, knowing that phase is over for us is bittersweet, innit?”

“It is. That was the best phase in my life, loved every single moment of it. From crying in a bloody loo in Tesco with you over two lines in a pee stick because we just couldn’t wait to get home to driving around in the middle of the night because you wanted some chips at one bleeding am. And when we saw them for the first time, looking absolutely horrible and could be hired as an extra for some horror movie because they were covered in blood, yet for us they were still the most beautiful thing we’ve ever laid our eyes on.”

You reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Glad I went through it all with you.”

“Me too. Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiled as he brought your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“Right, before we get too soppy, I just want to remind you that you’re not going to work tomorrow.”

“Well, I c-” he shut himself up as you glanced at him for a second. “Alright, I’ll make some calls tonight and push a meeting to Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“Good. Remember what the doctor said, take it easy for the next three days so don’t pick up any of the kids, well except the baby. I’ll get you some frozen peas bag to put over it for comfort as soon as we get home.”

Harry chuckled. “God, frozen peas have never sounded better.”

#let us pray for harry's balls #harry styles #harry styles imagines #dad harry styles imagines #dad harry imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles ff #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles fluff #dad!harry #husband!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concepts #harry styles drabbles #harry styles blurbs #father's day #the styles gang

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takingcourage · 4 years

Text

Something Real

Pairing: M! Cassian x MC (Kellen)

Word Count: 2,250

Summary: Kellen tries to come to terms with both her situation and her new identity. In the process, she learns more about the night she left Cassian’s apartment.

Rating: M for safety. There’s nothing explicit here, though this story includes sexual themes and is a bit spicier than what I usually write. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: I’m whipped for this book, apparently. I’m not sure if it’s the isolation or the fact that I’ve finally scheduled daily writing time again, but I’ve struggled to get these characters out of my head this week.

If you’re interested in reading the other piece I’ve written for this pairing, you can find it here: Breakfast and Broken Rules.

After her third trip to the bathroom, Kellen had had enough. She wasn't going to fall back to sleep, and there was no use proving it with another hour of tossing and turning on the too-soft mattress.

It had been a little after 4:00 when she'd pried the batteries out of the clock in desperation, hoping that its incessant ticking was the real reason she hadn't been able to find sleep again. But even after relieving herself, removing the sound of the clock, and flicking on the light in the bathroom, rest was impossible to come by.

What she needed was to clear her head, and it was pretty evident that wasn’t going to happen here.

Mind made up, she crawled out of bed and turned on the overhead light. Working quietly, Kellen pulled open the top two drawers of the dresser to consider what she had to work with. She removed a sweatshirt and pair of leggings, contemplating the lack of other options. They hadn't given her a sports bra, but the bikini top they'd provided would be better than nothing. Taking all three items, she shut the drawers and changed into the makeshift gear.

The previous night had told her that Cassian could sleep through anything, but she still crept down the stairs deliberately. She slipped out through the back door without so much as a glance toward the living room.

Outside, the morning was humid and cool -- more dark than light, though the tinge on the horizon promised to overtake the sky in short order. Tugging her hair back into a tight ponytail, she tried to remember what she knew of the neighborhood from their trip into town the night before. With the barest hint of a path in mind, she was ready.

Kellen sucked a deep breath, then started to run.

Her first steps felt like falling as her body adjusted to the sudden momentum, but she quickly caught her stride. By the time she’d reached the end of the street and found sidewalk, each step was as natural as breathing.

Running outdoors again was unusual, but by no means unpleasant. The salty tang with each swallow of air that filled her lungs was a far cry from the scent of cleaner and sweat that usually waited in her building's gym. But even though the trappings were different, the motion was the same. And as always, the more attuned she became with her body, the more she could leave her worries behind.

The events of the past twenty-four hours were incomprehensible. She didn’t even try to process them as she navigated the unfamiliar pathway. She’d spent most of the early morning chasing away phantom fears and memories -- the overwhelming feeling of helplessness, the sight of blood pooling onto concrete, the sound of an alias that she still didn’t recognize as her own...

This morning, she needed reality. More than that, she needed to feel like she had control.

Kellen pushed harder, conscious of the shift made to her breathing to accommodate the faster pace. With satisfaction, she counted breaths in tempo. Every one made her more aware of her body. Every step made the world around her feel less like a dream. It became tangible with each push she made against the solid concrete.

in the morning calm, she began to feel like herself again.

She rounded a corner eventually, lips curving into a smile at the water that stretched before her. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that the harbor was her destination, though she wasn’t surprised to have reached it. With one final burst of momentum, she came to the end of the pavement.

Slowing as she approached open sand, she inhaled deeply and pulled off her sweatshirt to wipe the sheen of sweat from her forehead. The run back could wait awhile.

Eyes on the horizon, she caught her left ankle behind her thigh and held it in a stretch. As she switched to the other leg, she almost thought she sensed movement behind her. It’s nothing, Kellen. You’re just jumpy from yesterday.

But another voice contradicted that theory a millisecond later. "It's me, Kellen."

By the time she recognized Cassian, her relief wasn’t enough to keep her from stumbling. With a grimace, she caught her balance and managed to keep herself upright. Turning towards the sound of his voice, she was met with a rush of blood that had nothing to do with her alarm.

For the second time in as many days, she was treated to the sight of his body, shirtless and glistening with sweat. From the look of things, he’d gotten out of bed and run behind her the entire way. He hadn’t even bothered to pull his hair back or put on more than a loose pair of shorts. She dipped into a hamstring stretch to hide her shame at the realization.

“Didn't mean to scare ya.”

She saw his shins in her periphery and bit her tongue in hopes of recovering some dignity. After a couple of measured breaths, her heart rate had almost returned to normal. “You’re supposed to be protecting me, not scaring me to death.” Kellen swung upward in time to see him angle a brow in amusement.

“That would be easier if you didn’t keep sneaking out on me. Or leaving,” he amended.

His reference to her words from the previous morning struck a pang of guilt. “I was planning to sneak back in this morning.” Stretches forgotten, she made her way to a nearby bench and sat down, hoping that focusing her attention back on the sunrise would help to ease her mortification. “How’d you even know I was gone?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” he admitted, taking a seat next to her.

"That wasn't the case two nights ago," she ribbed in an effort to lighten the mood. At his silence, she cocked her head to look back at him. The honesty in his emerald eyes told her all she needed to know. “You were awake? And you just let me leave?”

He ran his palm across his forehead and seemed to consider the sweat for a moment. “I know better than to argue with a woman who knows what she wants. If she leaves my bed before daylight, I figure there's gotta be a reason for it.”

Doubt gnawed Kellen’s conscience. Everything in her was screaming that he deserved an explanation, but she bit her tongue a second time. She’d left sleeping men in countless beds. What was it about him that made her feel so guilty?

She was attracted to him physically. That much was obvious. But the same was true for dozens of men she’d met at dozens of parties before. But each of those times, a few hours together had been all it took to get them out of her system. Why wasn’t a one-night stand enough when it came to him?

That wasn’t a line of questioning she needed to pursue now...or ever.

Switching tacts, she edged nearer on the bench. They still weren’t quite touching, but the electricity between their bodies was unmistakable. The hitch in his breath was enough to tell her that he was aware of her closeness. The almost imperceptible glance he cast her way confirmed that their thoughts were moving in much the same direction.

Hand outstretched, she traced the length of his forearm until reaching the sensitive skin at his wrist. Her index finger toyed with the skin beneath his woven bracelet.

As suspected, the touch sparked into flame. Cassian pulled toward her, one thigh effectively crowding her space on the narrow bench. The response was all the encouragement she needed to swing a leg over his lap and wind her arms around his neck.

Kellen fought to keep her eyes open as the warm skin of his belly brushed against her own. He felt too good. It was intoxicating having him beneath her like this -- solid and strong, yet completely at her mercy. Her lips descended, so close that their breaths mingled as one. “If you want me back in your bed, you know where to find me.”

Cassian surged forward, his powerful arms locking around her bare midriff as their lips met. He swallowed her contented sigh, and she could have sworn that she felt tension leave his body in turn.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered when they finally broke for air.

Kellen pressed herself closer, suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was clad in nothing but a pair of leggings and a thin bikini top. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she promised, kissing him again as a wandering hand ventured down his side.

Beneath her, his green eyes grew impossibly dark. “You have no idea how much I want to.”

She bristled with pleasure, using her free hand to tip his face forward. “Then let me show you.” Carding her fingers through his hair, she sucked his lower lip sharply. He responded eagerly in kind, biting her lower lip before he soothed it with further kisses.

She needed more of him. The hand at his side crept further down, each inch bringing her closer to her goal. Every nerve burned with desire. All of the stress, the uncertainty, and the fear of the last twenty-four hours boiled down to insatiable lust.

Cassian caught her wrist as she reached his waistband. “We can’t.” With pride, she noted that his whisper lacked the force of conviction. “Anyone could see.”

Casting her head back, she made a show of looking up and down the empty beach. “No one’s here. Nobody on this island knows us anyway.”

His swollen lips parted to draw a deep breath. "That’s the whole point. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile so you don’t attract attention.” His hands fell to her hips, though they served to push her away instead of holding her closer.

“I can keep quiet if you can.”

For a moment, she thought he might take her up on the challenge, but his resigned sigh broke the spell. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“is that really what you want?”

“No,” he answered immediately, looking almost sheepish at the bold admission. “I want this. I want you. But I can’t let that compromise your safety.”

As much as she wanted to push him further, she could tell that the moment was over. Whatever they’d been on the verge of had passed the instant he’d stopped her. With an unintelligible grumble, she climbed down from his lap and moved several inches away.

It a few moments for her to gather her bearings. “Do you need a dip in the water before we head back?”

She’d expected him to scoff at the suggestion, but instead he responded with a spirited laugh. “That might not be a bad idea.”

“It would make for a miserable run back.”

“Sure enough.”

They settled into a mostly comfortable silence as Kellen watched the waves roll in. His laughter still rang in her ears: a guileless, uninhibited sound. A sound she very much wanted to hear again.

All things considered, Cassian made for pretty decent company. Even if the morning hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, she acknowledged that it could have been much worse.

“Thank you,” she uttered finally, eyes still trained on the brilliance of the bay.

“For what?”

“For not telling me how stupid it was to sneak out on my own.”

He surveyed her curiously. “Would it have made a difference?”

“No.” She toyed with the cuff of her sweatshirt and contemplated putting it back on. Between the ocean breeze and the loss of his body heat, she was almost cold.

“I didn’t think so. And so you know, I don't mind early morning runs. I'll keep my distance if that's what you want, but I can't let you out of the house alone at this ungodly hour. Tomas would have my hide.”

“I’ll let you know next time,” she promised, sliding her arms back into the sleeves of her crewneck.

“I’d be very grateful.” He paused for a moment before adding, “You’re a funny woman, Kelsey Russo.” The lilt in his voice was almost enough to disguise how strange the alias sounded to her ears. “But I like spending time with ya.”

His simple admission sent her heart into a frenzy once again, though this time the cause was very different. Why was it such a thrill to know that he enjoyed her company? He’d done nothing to suggest otherwise.

Still, Kellen didn’t know how to respond. If she admitted that she felt the same, he might come to expect something. But she didn’t want to brush the comment off either. She was starting to believe that this man deserved better than just her witty comebacks and evasions.

As if sensing her discomfort, Cassian broke the silence. “The rest of the island will be waking up soon. Should we head back and find you some coffee?”

“That sounds perfect,” she agreed. Coffee meant further return to normalcy, a sense of routine when so much was uncertain.

And yet, some rebel part of her hoped that the invitation included company as well. Much as she benefited from being alone, she wasn’t sure she could handle more time spent examining her thoughts this morning. She was beginning to fear what that kind of transparency with herself might lead to.

That’s a problem for another day. With a determined spring in her step, she nodded toward Cassian and began running again.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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excindrela · 5 years

Text

Summoned (18+)

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV / Female reader

Genre: Fluff/ a touch of Angst/ and graphic SMUT

Warnings: occult, oral (female receiving), **graphic sex**

Word Count: 3253

AN: Ok. This is only the 2nd thing I have ever posted, and my 1st attempt at smut (sorry if I offend or horrify anyone). Feedback is always appreciated (please be kind). FYI: “a-spot” is not a typo. Google it. ;)

Happy Halloween!!

AN2: Ayno returned for Thanksgiving, and by request (thank you lovlies) he has become a series! Christmas is here: 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

It turned out to be the Halloween where things actually did go bump in the night. The truth of which no one would believe if you decided to tell it.

On-the-fly parties were Misha’s specialty, so there you all were, former college roommates with crazy lives & jobs, on the Friday night before Halloween sitting on Misha’s floor in make-shift costumes with random Asian take-out being washed down with cheap rice wine and sake. You played with the Ouija board, read each other’s tarot cards and thumbed through the Urban Witch’s Guide to Practical Spells (bought on clearance at Barnes & Noble for $5.27).

Come to think of it now, the whole thing was Jia’s fault. She was the one who picked up the spell book and started reading from it. “Oooo! Oooo! This one is for you!!” , she said punching you in the shoulder. Having gotten your attention, she read aloud, “Are you lonely? Sexually frustrated? Summon a demon specifically to satisfy you and take care of your needs.” “I am not sexually frustrated!” you protested. Misha snorted. “…And when was the last time you got laid, Princess Workaholic? Do I not remember you describing your last boyfriend as a ‘lazy pencil dick’?” “I thought it was ‘rice dick’?”, Jia countered. You sighed, “Ok, yes. My last boyfriend was a lazy un-endowed slob who thought only of himself, and it would have taken an act of Congress for him to go down on me. …but 8 months isn’t that much of a dry spell…” Jia shook her head. “Yeah no. You need this.” She said with a laugh. She tore off a piece of napkin and made you write your name on it, then she reached over and yanked 3 hairs out of your head. She grabbed a black candle with a pentagram on it, held it up and read “I seek the realm beyond! I call upon those who can make manifest the desires of mind, flesh, and heart to cross the veil and grant fulfillment!” as she burned your written name and hairs in the candle. You threw a popcorn ball at her head.

The Uber dropped you off at home sometime just before midnight. You dropped your bag on the floor, locked the door and wandered into the bedroom of your converted warehouse apartment. You had just thrown on an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers when you saw a strange blue light coming from the living room. Upon closer inspection, you discovered it was coming from the large antique floor mirror you bought at an estate sale last year. The whole glass was lit up as though surrounded in neon. Slowly a shadow appeared in the center that as it grew larger took on the shape of a person. You stood, transfixed, as a man stepped through your mirror as though it was any other doorway.

He had to be close to six feet tall. Black pointed toe boots with studded bands led to black leather pants with a similarly studded belt, his shirt was a soft button up in white with a red floral pattern, hidden mostly under a burgundy leather motorcycle jacket. He had a face like Lucifer fallen: high cheekbones, full pouty lips with a ring through the bottom one and a distinct cupid’s bow on top, and almost black hair covered in a layer of teal. He was a sinful nightmare, straight from your dreams.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” you asked with a slight tremble in your voice.

He eyed you up and down. “I am Ayno. I am a lesser demon of manifestation and desire. You summoned me. I was called upon to service you mistress.”

You stared at him in shock. This was not really happening. “What? No…no…no…that wasn’t me. That was Jia. Jia summoned you. I think you have the wrong mirror.”

He smiled as he approached you and gently tucked your hair behind your ear, bringing his long fingers down to your jaw line to raise your chin and get a better look at you. His thumb brushed across your lips as he chewed on his lower one, using his tongue to play with the ring in it. You felt your underwear growing damp just looking at him. “Mmmm…I don’t think so. But let’s check, shall we?”

He turned on his heel and strode back to the mirror he had stepped out of. The neon glow had disappeared and it looked normal again. He knocked on it in a strange rhythm and then placed his hand in the center of the glass. Nothing happened. He was satisfied. “No. The portal is closed. I am definitely here to see to your…needs.” He turned back to his reflection, studying it for a moment. “My hair is blue? Green?” He peered closer. “Exactly what color are my eyes? Am I Asian? ” he questioned. You shrugged, “Maybe? Do you not know? Isn’t this what you usually look like?” He shook his head “I look however you desire me to.”

“So mistress…how can I serve you? Which of your desires would you like me to fulfill?” he said as he casually tossed his jacket on the couch and began advancing on you.

You started backing up. “Oh no no…I don’t need anything…I don’t think I have any desires…” you said as you maneuvered around the couch, trying to put distance between yourself and the supermodel from hell.

“None? You’re putting off an awful lot of pheromones for someone with no desires.” he chided. You scooted backwards between the counter and the island in the kitchen. He followed you, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding it on a barstool. “Your heart is pounding…see something you like?” he asked. You moved around the dining table, pulling out the chairs and leaving them as obstacles.

Ayno just kept walking toward you at a languid pace. You continued backing up wondering how to stop his advance. Unfortunately, you didn’t pay attention to where you were going and you backed yourself right into the bedroom. Now you were trapped with nowhere to go. This seemed to please Ayno who leaned in the doorway smirking as you looked around in panic for an escape.

“Oh, please. Don’t kill me.” You whispered breathlessly. He smiled and gave a small chuckle. “Aww- don’t worry baby, I’m not going to kill you. …I’m not even going to hurt you…but I am going to make you scream.”

He held up his right index finger and twirled it in a circle before flicking it in your direction. Like some otherworldly cowboy, a rope of red light shot from his finger, lassoed your wrists and dragged you backward onto the bed – arms above your head, your wrists now bound together by energy and secured tightly to nothing. You tried yanking your arms down, but they wouldn’t budge. “You know, the more you pull on that, the tighter it gets.” Ayno cautioned. He glanced down at the university t-shirt you were wearing. “You won’t be needing that” he said as the shirt was whisked from your body by nothing more than a wiggle of his fingers and a wave of his hand. “You won’t be needing those either” he said looking at your boxers. He made a ‘come here’ motion with his hand and your boxers and panties slid down your legs and flew straight to his hand. He put your soaked panties to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly before dropping them to the ground.

He held up two fingers like a Boy Scout and then pointed them towards you and split them apart as he did so your legs shot open to opposite sides of the mattress unable to close them of your own free will. His eyes never leaving yours he advanced on you like a predator to their prey. You felt the foot of the bed dip is he climbed on it and crawled towards you.

“I’ll bet you taste delicious.” He purred, glancing down to eye your dripping sex fully on display for him. “Oh oh no! Please!! Oh please no!” you begged knowing what he was about to do, but the demon only laughed.

With a speed that no human could match, he dove between your spread legs and dropped his head to lick a thick fat stripe up your slit. He took excruciatingly long laps, his tongue stretching out and dipping into your hole at the bottom and flicking across your clit at the top. You moaned and writhed, trying to escape him as he guided the tip of his tongue up and down between your folds. Finally he grabbed your hipbones and held you still as he placed his whole mouth to your core, sucking at the juices you couldn’t stop flowing. Without letting up, he slowly inserted his middle finger to your waiting heat, moving it in and out in gentle even thrusts causing tiny currents of electricity to slide along your slick inner walls. You made soft gasping noises that slowly morphed into “more” as your hips bucked upward to meet the thrust of his hand. Ever obliging, Ayno added another finger and increased the pace. The friction caused you to whine softly as your hips twisted in pleasure, held fast in his firm grasp. You could feel yourself winding up, waiting to be pushed over the edge. “Oh please- please- make me cum” you begged. He raised his glowing red eyes to your sweat damped face, as he moved to take your clit between his lips and suck while he curved his fingers upward into your sensitive spot. You gasped and made incoherent sounds as everything behind your eyes went white and your whole body twitched as your orgasm washed over you.

At last he released your throbbing clit and raised his head, the lower half of his face covered in your slick. You felt yourself growing desperate as he continued working his fingers in and out of your soaked core. His breathing was heavy when he asked “You’re so wet…how do you want me to serve you?”

“Fuck me. Please Ayno…please I want to feel you inside me!” you begged like a shameless slut. You had no idea what had happened to the rest of his clothes, but his body was naked as he shifted on top of yours.

A moment later you felt the sweet painful stretch of his thick cock pushing achingly slow inside of you. He took his time pressing in, letting you feel every inch of him as he slid into you. “So tight” he hissed as he bottomed out. He bent forward gently trailing soft wet kisses down your neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. Gradually, he felt your hips begin to twitch, knowing that you were ready for him to move. He slowly dragged his length out of you pushing back in with slightly more intensity; and with each stroke he increased the pace and added force.

“Does it feel good baby? You like the way I’m fucking you?” he asked as his hip bones crashed into your inner thighs again.

“Mmmmph…uhhh…yes…oh Jesus yes…more…” you choked out.

The demon gave a dark laugh and said “HE has nothing to do with this, I promise you.” as he lifted your legs up over his shoulders and began making quick sharp thrusts that slammed the head of his cock into your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Ayno...my hands… please…” He flicked his fingers at the headboard and you felt the bonds give way and your arms fall to your sides to grip the sheets. You could feel the edges of your vision darkening as all your muscles tightened and the butterflies began in your belly. Ayno reached forward and laced his fingers in yours. “C’mon baby, cum for me…you’re almost there…” he coaxed as he flexed his hips faster. You moaned loudly as the pleasure washed over you like a wave while fireworks exploded behind yours eyes, and you felt yourself clenching around him harder than you ever had. “Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes!” you yelled loud enough that you were sure the entire building could hear you.

Ayno slowed his pace, and slid your legs off his shoulders until your knees were around his elbows, while he watched you pant and come down from your high. “I don’t think you’re satisfied yet. You want more baby?” “More??” you gasped. He smiled and nodded as he unhooked your knees and reached down with strong hands behind your back and pulled you up until you were sitting in his lap, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you. He began gently rolling his hips, the motion causing him to simultaneously apply rhythmic pressure to your clit and the tip of his cock to graze your a-spot. Your breath began coming in short staccato gasps. You threaded your fingers into his hair “Aren’t you close?” He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t you need to come?”

He gave a throaty laugh. “I can if you want me to, but it’s not necessary. Orgasm or not, I can do this any way you want, all night if you desire.” He said gazing up at you with burgundy eyes that sparkled like glitter and a smirk on his lips. You brought your mouth to his, suddenly prepared to give up whatever sleep you thought you were going to get.

***

You startled as you realized there was someone in the bed with you. Cautiously you rolled over to find your dream-nightmare leaning on one elbow watching you sleep with detached amusement. “Ayno? Oh god. That really happened. Wh-what are you still doing here? Its’s daylight” Ayno rolled his eyes. “I’m a demon, not a vampire. Daylight is not a problem for me. ...and I can’t leave. You haven’t released me.” “Released you?” “Yeah- you summoned me. I have to do your bidding, and then when you’re satisfied, you release me and I leave.”

“Does what happened really count as summoning?” you questioned. Ayno nodded. “..and do my bidding? I didn’t bid you to do anything.” Ayno’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No? Didn’t you? What do you think last night was?” That? All of that??? “Uh no! That was you demon boy!” The gorgeous demon laughed in earnest showing off the Hollywood-esq smile it didn’t seem a creature like him should have. “That’s not how it works. It’s not about me or what I want. It has to be in you- it’s what *you* want. I just know - I can sense it. But it all comes from you.” You were mortified. That came from you? No no no. That wasn’t you- that was like smut you’d read in a fanfic on Tumblr. Not that it wasn’t awesome, but... “Wait. So you’re stuck here and have to do whatever I want until I tell you to leave??” Ayno’s eyes narrowed. “Something like that.”

*** 3 weeks later***

The smell of coffee pulled you out of bed earlier than you would like on a Sunday morning. You wandered into the kitchen to be greeted by what had become one of your favorite things: Ayno, shirtless, making your breakfast. You paused for a moment to admire the view of his triangular torso, but since he was attuned to you, it was impossible to sneak up on him. He spun around and picked up your coffee cup and strutted down the kitchen like a model on a catwalk to hand it to you. You giggled.

“Did you enjoy the show? Can I have a shirt now?” he pleaded. “Please?”

Please. So human. You’d been working on the human thing. “Of course.”

He retrieved his shirt from the back of the couch and paused at the mirror to look at himself on the way back. His hair was now chocolate brown, very short on the sides and back, but longer on the top with caramel colored highlights. “I look Asian now.” He confirmed with a smile, as he began fluffing and styling his bangs. He gestured at his new hair, “This is good?” he questioned hopefully. You nodded enthusiastically.

“I think this look will go over better with my family. They will approve, therefore there will be fewer questions.” You explained. He nodded – he didn’t get a choice- his appearance was still subject to your whims. “We can change it up when we get back. I think you’d look great as a blonde.” He arched one eyebrow and eyed you doubtfully as he picked you up by the hips and effortlessly lifted you up to sit on the counter.

“Tell me again about this ‘Thanksgiving’ we are going to.” He asked as he plated your breakfast and handed it to you.

You didn’t answer right away. You stuffed a piece of pancake in your mouth to hide the small wave of guilt that hit you for not having released him yet. Ayno did make great pancakes, but it seemed unfair to keep an accidently summoned demon as a sex slave and pretend boyfriend - even if he was the best boyfriend you’d ever had. He was a good cook, the house was spotless, he had turned out to have a great sense of humor and was a pro at cuddling- as well as everything that came after it. However, you were pretty sure that demons were not supposed to be domesticated, and that this went against his nature…he was probably miserable.

You looked up from the food you had been concentrating way too hard on to find his nose inches from yours. It surprised you, because, if anything, your thoughts and feelings should have pushed him away, not called him to you. He was looking in your eyes in that way that made you think he was staring at your soul (and you weren’t entirely sure he wasn’t).

“I am not unhappy.”

“But this doesn’t seem right.”

He shrugged. “Right is whatever you want, whatever makes you happy.”

“But what do you want?”

He sighed and looked down at your breakfast plate. “My desires do not enter into it. What I want doesn’t matter.”

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “It does to me. What do you want, Ayno?”

“This.” Suddenly, his velvet soft lips were on yours. You were surprised and hesitated for a moment – never before had any of Ayno’s actions been something you hadn’t willed. He pulled away, smiling.

“You allowed me choice. Why?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…I mean I know you’re a demon, and probably inherently evil, but it just seems like you should have some say in your life.”

Ayno shook his head. “I am not evil. I am owned and managed by evil. But you might be surprised to know that I do have feelings.”

You were surprised actually. “Really?” He nodded. “I assumed that you couldn’t…you never told me.”

“You never asked.” He hesitated a moment, “Why do you keep me here?”

Embarrassed, you went back to playing with your pancakes. Knowing that he deserved an answer, you whispered, “Because I like you.”

He placed his hands on your hips and pressed his forehead to yours. “I like you too. More than any soul I have ever encountered. Is that not how it is done in this world? You like each other so you stay together?”

He made it sound so simple.

“Something like that.” You replied.

#ayno #vav ayno #vav fluff #vav angst #vav smut #hot demon #demon #halloween #supernatural au #fluff smut au angst

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feministshawnmendes · 5 years

Text

Bold and Bubbly

a/n: inspired by that story Shawn told of that woman not knowing who he was and my love for cocky!Shawn. There might be a steamy part two? We’ll see.

summary: Shawn meets a beautiful film director at an After-Party during the Cannes film festival who has no idea who he is.

_____

Champagne had been flowing freely all night, swirling about in expensive champagne flutes before dancing down into the bellies of some of Hollywood’s finest. Mireia had gulped down her fair share of free alcohol, feeling tipsy but in control as she took photos with old friends and chatted up new faces, the alcohol sitting in her belly and making her feel warm as her lips turned upwards into a permanent smile. She usually hated film festivals. Especially the Cannes Film Festival. It had become somewhat of a fashion show over the years, hoards of supermodels and musicians attending the event for a few photo ops if anything. But that night she didn’t care about her self-righteous anger. She’d spent the past three years writing, directing and producing the film that had become her passion project and it had just opened at one of the biggest film festivals in the world. She was too busy soaking up the alcohol and affection floating around to worry about much else. She’d been working in the industry for years and if she had learned anything it was to bask in moments like this - ones where she wasn’t worried about writing, meeting a deadline, pleasing studio execs. Temporarily free of any worries that might later surface to the top of her brain, Mireia broke off from her friends who were laughing loudly as they consumed more alcohol than necessary and ate bite sized servings of bread and cheese.

After-parties like the one her cast had dragged her to were really meant for actors to meet casting agents and directors. A lot of schmoozing and fake flattery was involved. The good thing about being young, female and a relatively new director in the industry was that most actors had no clue who Mireia was. They knew her name, knew her work from the tv shows and films she’d written for. But most people barely recognized her. Which she used to her advantage as she strolled past tables full of celebrities who were eager to land acting gigs, their eyes scanning the room to hopefully catch a word with Tarantino or Scorsese. She smiled to herself as she made her way to the bathroom which was situated in a dark corner of the room. When she pulled on the door handle and the door swung open a little too easily, her eyes widened, a gasp pushing its way past her lips as her eyes met two brown ones.

“Oh uh,” She stammered instinctively, her hand still grasping the door handle as her eyes scanned the stranger’s face in front of her. He was handsome. The knock your breath out of your lungs kind of handsome. He had a good half a foot on her, his frame towering over hers, his head tilted as his eyes traveled up and down her body, his eyebrows furrowing as a warmth started to form in the pit of her stomach.

“You look familiar,” he said as his tongue poked out to wet his parted lips, a crooked smile playing on his face as Mireia’s grasp on the door handle tightened. She gulped nervously, her cheeks burning as the handsome stranger’s gaze stayed locked on hers. She shook her head, confusion washing over her face.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met before,” She responded.

“Hm,” He hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. He screams suave and confidence, his cocky smirk and strong eye contact making the tips of Mireia’s fingers burn as he stares back at her. She swallowed her nerves.

“Um,” She trailed as he continued to stare at her, an amused smile on his face. “I actually have to pee super bad. If you could just-“

“Are you an actress?” He interrupted, his teeth seeking into his bottom lip.

“Ha! No, I’m not.”

“I swear we’ve met before,” He insisted.

“I really don’t think so,” She laughed, her hand falling from the door handle. “You must be mistaken - I don’t know who you are.”

“Wha-Really?” He asked, his expression shifting as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, his smile falling. Mireia shook her head, watching as he grimaced slightly and pursed his lips. She rolled her eyes, letting out a small huff.

“Listen I’m sure you’re very impressive and a great actor and if your agent has a card I’d-“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” He laughed, putting up a hand as he shook his head. “Are you a Director?”

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“You look young is all,” He replied, a crooked smile appearing on his face as he tilted his head again, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “You really don’t know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow, feeling her skin grow warm with anger. He held himself like every other young celebrity in Hollywood. His charming smile and dark eyes, which were zoned in on her making her cheeks burn. As handsome as he was, she couldn’t help but read him as another arrogant actor with a big ego. She’d played this game before and she wasn’t willing to do it again.

“And who are you?” He smirked, ignoring her question and leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, crossing his arms over his chest as the warmth in Mireia’s belly grew.

“Someone who REALLY has to go to the bathroom so if you could just…” She smiled an overly sweet smile, a laugh falling from his lips as he pushed himself off the door frame and ran his index finger along his bottom lip.

“You really don’t know who I am?” He repeated.

“No I don’t but judging by how hurt you seem to be that I don’t, you must be a really big deal,” She retorted.

“I mean,” He trailed, a glint in his eyes as they danced across her face. “I wouldn’t say really big but...big.”

“Mm I’m sure you are,” She breathed, pursing her lips in annoyance as she took the time to let her eyes really take in the man in front of her. He was wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his muscular forearms, the top two buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a little bit of chest hair. A bed of chocolate curls rested on top of his head, his skin glowing underneath the warm lighting the bathroom provided. He was classically handsome, a boyish smile etched onto his face as he leaned smoothly into Mireia, her breath hitching in her throat.

“I can’t remember the last time I met someone who didn’t know who I was,” He said in a low voice, making Mireia’s face burn in a way it hadn’t before, her throat tightening as his gaze moved down to her lips.

“Here,” She whispered back with a confident smirk. “Let me hold that for you.”

“Hold what?” He asked with a tone of surprise, his forehead creasing.

“Your ego,” She replied. “Seems like it must be kinda big. Hard to carry.”

A chuckle fell from his lips, Mireia’s throat drying up as she takes in this stranger’s cocky demeanor, the way he pushes his chin up and squares his shoulders making her want to roll her eyes. She’s irritated by his confidence that seems to drip from his very being, his tongue poking out again to touch the corner of his mouth. Mireia felt her head start to spin, tingles shooting up and down her body as he stepped closer to her, a good foot away from her but closer than before, his musky scent filling her nostrils and making her stomach do cartwheels.

“You’re really cute,” He said slowly, his lips curving into a bigger smile as her nose scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out in mock disgust as a laugh fell from his lips, his eyes turning into slits as his body shook with laughter.

“Is that your way of hitting on me?” She asked with a purse of her lips.

“If I said yes?”

“By law I’d have to vomit,” She answered.

“Funny,” He laughed. “Kind of assumed it was obvious I’ve been hitting on you the whole time,”

“Funny. Usually people introduce themselves if they’re trying to hit on someone”

“Well,” He said plainly, smiling as she raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine, honey.”

“Mireia Bodillo.”

“Nice to meet you, Mireia,” He breathed, nodding his head as he rocked back on the heels of his feet, placing his hand flat on the door as he pushed it further open, Mireia eyes following his every move. He smirked down at her, his cheeks a few shades darker than they had been earlier as he pushed himself against the door, slotting himself between it and Mireia as he purposefully brushed past her. An uneven breath fell from his lips as she stared up at him, her chin held high and her shoulders squared as she tilted her head.

“And you are?” She asked cooly, his chest rising up and down as she purposefully shifted so her body was facing his, the tips of her shoes bumping his. She smiled up at him, a satisfied grin taking over her face as his eyes dropped down to her, his Adam’s apple moving up and down along his throat as she purposefully ran her tongue along her bottom lip. His warmth was radiating onto her, his labored breaths gently brushing against her face.

“Shawn,” He breathed. “Mendes”

“Mm,” She hummed in a low tone. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego, eh?” He choked out, the tip of his nose now a nice shade of pink. Mireia’s stomach churned and her fingers tingled as she watched a familiar glint of desire swim in Shawn’s eyes as he gulped once again. If anyone were to catch them standing so close in a dark corner of the room they’d probably think the two were familiar, more than just strangers who’d bumped into each other.

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Mendes,” She smirked up at him as his cheeks flushed red once again. She liked being in control. Liked watching the way he bit the inside of his cheek as he fought to keep himself from smiling. He nodded, her eyes dancing across his face as her smile widened.

“Yeah it was nice,” He whispered, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Might google you later.”

“You might?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay,” She started, biting down on her bottom lip as she smirked up at him as she watched him unravel as a smile broke out onto his face and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. The cool exterior he’d put up was slowly melting away, giving way to a much softer interior, a nervous breath falling from Shawn’s lips as Mireia purposefully let her fingers brush against his. The small amount of contact burned her skin, making the warmth in her belly travel lower as she pressed her legs together. She was in control and she knew it but she slowly felt herself coming undone. “Might google you myself, then. Might be hard to find you, though. Ya know...since you’re not very big.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find me,” he chuckled.

“Mm. I’m sure. What did you say your name was again?”

“Oh come on.”

“Mendes,Yeah?” She teased.

“Yeah,” He smiled back at her as she nodded and slowly backed away from him, their eyes locked on each other.

“See ya, Mendes,” She smiled, taking in the way he heaved a sigh and nodded before he slipped away and she closed the bathroom door, her mind running wild as she wondered about the handsome stranger she’d just met, the warmth that had taken over her body slowly fading away.

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