#wait not me reading the ask properly again and seeing that the focus was MY faves ASHDSDFSDHFBSDf

[lokh]

Im gonna need your like, whole musical rec list, bc literally every song you have posted has not flopped once, give me your faves i need to eat them

OUGHHH YOUVE UNLOCKED THE BEAST ARGSHHFHJDF....

in the interest of making this both easily accessible but not stretching the dashboard, im embedding bandcamp links when i can, otherwise linking to youtube when unavailable

in no particular order, inclusion based mostly on what im still actively into LMAO but also just things you should give a go at least once:

list of artist recommendations

zeal and ardor: described as a mix of african-american spirituals and black metal. try devil is fine, you aint coming back, wake of a nation or church burns

bloodywood: indian folk metal, literally nobody is doing it like them. recently featured in monkey man (2024), try chakh le, yaad or dana dan

stromae: if youve never heard any of his songs WHAT ARE YOU DOING..... incredible lyricist, described as a blend of hip hop/electronic. papaoutai made the rounds on tumblr a while back, but you should also try santé and l'enfer

alamat: pinoy pop. a youtube commenter described them as sounding like 2nd gen kpop which probably also explains why i took a shine to them LMAO, notable for the amount of filipino culture on display and the diversity thereof (singing in different languages, themes). first heard them thru kasmala either here or on twitter lmao, try aswang or maharani

andy bull: alt-pop. a lot of poppy and upbeat songs with a melancholic undertone imo. an australian artist, try it's all connected or keep on running

cosmo sheldrake: electronic, wikipedia also lists him as folktronica and baroque pop. you may have heard the song come along on an apple ad - hes known for sampling sounds from nature. pliocene for example features sounds from endangered ecosystems.

if you like cosmo sheldrake, you might like hidden orchestra (electronica, ambient). also making use of field recordings, i really love the archipelago mixtape but its a hard sell at about an hour lmao. if you like the following song then i implore you to give it a go

son lux: experimental, you may have heard from them in the entire soundtrack for everything everywhere all at once (!!!!!). try dangerous, dream state (brighter night) or live another life.

ammar 808: electronic/world fusion, also behind bargou 08 (folk rock you should also listen to). i just cant get ain essouda out of my head, but i also love geeta duniki

miyavi: j-rock, used to be a visual kei artist. these days he might be known more for anime openings like flashback (kokkoku) or other side (id:invaded), or for work like snakes in arcane (or actually inspiring and voicing a character in it), but ive always been partial to his early work like sukkyanen myv or ashita, genki ni naare

songs/albums

'threads' album by now, now (indie rock).

'dream to make believe' or 'what to do when you are dead' by armor for sleep (rock, emo). here's the truth about heaven from the latter album

i already posted about it but denzel curry's 13lood 1n + 13lood out mixx (rap, trap) is extremely good

the guilty gear soundtracks and im so serious im not fucking joking. different kinds of rock and metal and all sorts of influences put in, a genuine labor of love. xrd and earlier games are mainly instrumental with some vocal tracks (try give me a break or big blast sonic), while strive pretty much always includes vocals (of course i need to rec rock parade, but also try requiem. its genuinely hard for me to pick and choose lmao)

not an album and not an artist

coke studio pakistan and coke studio bangla knocking it out of the fucking park, im particularly a fan of harkalay and kotha koiyo na. you could try the other coke studios too (tamil, india, etc)

triple j like a version is when the radio station triple j brings in artists and has them do a cover of a song (artists choice). i liked denzel curry's cover of bulls on parade and flume's shooting stars (video for this one is incredible, man had a vision you just have to stick it out), but you get a lot of interesting interpretations like the wombats' running up that hill, gordi's in the end or, infamously. the wiggles' elephant

ive DEFINITELY missed out some, but thats what my music tag is for LMAO i hope someone discovers something they like here!!!!

#ive tried to include a mix of songs that covers their range.. #includes the ones i like but ALSO is easiest on newcomers #particularly with the metal bands LMAO #eg church burns isnt really my favorite on the album but i remember it being the song i started with #specifically because someone in the reviews said it would be the easiest to start with. and they were right #also miyavi HAD to be here ive been a fan since GRADE SCHOOL #if ive recommended an album and not the artist its probably because im not a huge fan of their other stuff LMAO either cos #theyve moved away from what ive recommended stylistically (armor for sleep or now now) #or i havent gotten to a lot of the other stuff/its not my thing (denzel curry. sorry) #i liked the song ricky but a lot of the discography just isnt what i listen to rip #honestly it was so hard to choose AHSDUSDF i tried to choose artists that i really think others should listen to #but yeah obviously some are just there because. /i/ like them lol #wait not me reading the ask properly again and seeing that the focus was MY faves ASHDSDFSDHFBSDf #i got too excited at the prospect of recommending music #sonochinosodomy #ask #Bandcamp #music #obviously this couldnt be Everything... but ive done my best #to pare it down............. #long post

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Just a little something something for you guys...as a treat😈

When Simon's away for a while on deployment, it can get lonely. He's knows by the way your texting, when he gets the chance and can text, that you are missing him like crazy. You tell him how you can hardly wait till he returns, how your body is just aching for him something fierce.

And fuck his aching for yours too.

If he could hop on a plane, he would in an instant just to get back to you. Unfortunately, that's not something available to him at the moment.

But that doesn't mean there's nothing for him to do.

Simon knows his baby needs something to take the edge off, something to tide over that insatiable appetite for him until he can come home and fuck her proper the first chance he can get. You never asked for it, but he knew you wouldn't mind.

Ding

Your phone goes off. It's late, but youre no stranger to staying up well past dark; sometimes that was the only way you'd get a minute to talk to Simon when he was away across the world.

You check your phone. It's a text... a picture...

At first glance at the small icon on the lock screen, the image is kind of dark so you have to click on it to bring it up and when you do you nearly faint.

The caption reads: “Gotta be stealthy so they don't fuckin' catch me, but this one's for you sweetheart."

Simon is clearly propped up in his cot, his legs splayed open, shirt off. All that you can see is his thick torso with it's small speckling of light colored hair across his abs. The belt and zipper of his pants are completely undone and the waistband flung open. In one of his meaty hands he has a hold of his cock, already swollen with a little glistening at the top caught in the low light - most definitely a product from thinking of you.

You have to swallow to keep the spit from dribbling down out of the corner your mouth. Instantly you feel the heat rise in your cheeks, burning through your face as the blood pools there. It feels like you are going to pass out.

He's done it, he's taken your breath away in an instant.

Not even recovered from that glorious image your phone dings again, this time downloading something for a few seconds. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath caught in your lungs, as you wait to see what he's done now.

Ding

It's downloaded. This time it's a video...about a minute long. Your shaky, excited finger instantly clicks play.

"Mmmm..." his breath groan hits your ears as the vision of him stroking his length plays across the screen. His voice in hushed, clearly trying to be as quiet as he can while still making sure you can hear his words. "Fuck darlin', I wish you were here... rather have that sweet little pussy 'round me than my hand."

You've stopped breathing, literally; you could hear a pin drop in the room. The video of his abdominal muscles contracting and releasing as he continues to stroke his cock is all you can focus on now. Looks like he's in the middle of things.

He groans again, his breathing getting faster. "Fuck, I miss ya luv. It's been hell not having ya near for this fuckin' long. Nearly rippin' a hole in my goddamn pants from being so fuckin hard. I swear... gonna absolutely wreck ya when I get back. Don't even bother wearing any panties cause they're gonna get shredded off ya. Nothin', and I mean fuckin' nothin' is gonna keep me from buryin' all this in ya the fuckin' second we're alone. I wanna make you cum so fuckin bad baby."

The video fades out amongst the sound of another low, gravely moan and your sanity is gone. Dear God you were a lucky one tonight. You have to take several minutes just to relearn how to function properly again so you can text him back.

Before you can do that your phone goes off once more.

Ding

One final message pops up on screen: "Think of me later when you cum, sweetheart..."

Oh, you would, you would. And maybe just to be nice...you'd send him something back too.

Part 2:

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simin ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost #simon smut

[httpswritings]

We don't have to wait all night. - Katie McCabe & Hayley Raso.

Additional info: inspired in The Veronica's song “In My Blood”. You may want to check it out before reading.

Warnings: suggestive tone, not smut.

Summary: Katie and Hayley meet in Hayley's and Caitlin's hotel room.

Hayley had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a few knocks on the door. She only had a towel covering her body. Her messy, wet hair falling onto her shoulders, dropping some droplets on the floor.

“Caitlin, did you forget your key?”, Hayley shouted.

Two more knocks.

“Who is it?”, she asked.

Nobody replied, but the knocks kept coming in.

Stressed-out, she opened the door in a not too friendly way.

“Dear lord, WHO is— Oh, hello...Katie? Can I help you?”

But Katie did not answer instantly. Instead, she glanced at Hayley, from the top to the bottom, slightly aroused.

“Oh, yeah. I'm looking for Caitlin. She told me that she was staying in this room. Room 43, is it wrong?”

“No, no it's not. Come in if you want!”

As Katie entered the room, Hayley told her that Caitlin hadn't come yet to the hotel after the match as she had to stay to do some work related stuff, not specifying anything else more.

“You can wait for her here. I don't think she's gonna take long.”

“Better to wait here than in the lobby, but only if you're comfortable with the idea.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Katie kept silent but glanced again all over Hayley's figure and then smiled at her.

Understanding what Katie was referring to, Hayley said, “Oh, yeah, don't worry. I'll get changed in the bathroom. Take a sit on the be—, on the floor, or do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure you're okay with me staying here? You seem a bit nervous.”

“No! I mean, ye—, I MEAN, I'm not nervous. I find it funny. Not even one hour ago, we were on each other's throats during the match.”

Katie chuckled over Hayley's comment.

“Yeah, it's funny if you think so. I put you to work today.”

“You what? I put you to work. Don't get confused, McCabe.”

“That's not what the streets are saying. They all agree with me beating your ass.”

This should've made Hayley angry, it somewhat did, but she was also enjoying this conversation to the point that she had forgotten that only one medium-size towel was covering her body.

“Oh, so you wanna talk about what people are saying about you? Maybe you won't like everyone's opinions.”

Katie had a few ideas in her mind about what Hayley referring too. The Australian woman was right, Katie was not in the mood to talk about the gossip people have been tying her name to. Instead she tried to changed a little bit the direction of the conversation.

“What about you? What opinion do you have about me?"

The Irishwoman couldn't properly focus on the conversation. She had that one player, the one who had been fighting with during the match, almost naked in front of her, with a light brown towel around her body. Her hair falling down her shoulders in a messy way, some droplets falling onto Hayley's soft skin, and the essence of shampoo and body lotion impregnating the room.

“I've heard you are into Aussies.” Hayley said with a smirk, referring to Katie being linked to Caitlin Foord.

“Anything else?”

“You seem the type of person who's really sweet off the pitch. A little bit timid I'd say, in some occasions only. You probably hate feeling vulnerable, so you are very selective with whom you let to know your most authentic self. Very family oriented too. Am I wrong?”

“No. I'm actually impressed.", She didn't like Hayley almost perfectly spotting her personality, did she?

“Good. My turn. What do you think about me?”

“I haven't gotten a good first impression from you.” Katie lied. She felt the need to. Hayley was getting too close to see her soft side. She was right, Katie was too protective over people seeing her vulnerability.

Was she, Katie Alison McCabe, the one who usually intimidates people, the one who was feeling intimidated by Hayley Raso?

“I haven't met a lot of Irish people. Are they all these arrogant like you?"

“Hey! Watch your mouth.“ The Irishwoman said as she clenched her jaw, feeling a bit uneasy.

Katie felt such a pride from Ireland and from what it took to represent her country, that Hayley's comment didn't sit well with her.

“I'm sorry. It was not my intention to insult your people. I wanted to tease you, not to harm your identity as an Irish.", said Hayley sincerely, worried about having pushed the conversation too far.

Katie found herself smiling as a way of accepting Hayley's apology but immediately stopped as she felt a tingling sensation in her abdomen.

“Maybe I should get into the bathroom to get changed. You've had enough of me for today.” As Hayley headed to the bathroom door, Katie stood up.

“No! I mean, don't. I get it was a misunderstanding, and you didn't mean it. It was a good tease, tho. If that's what you wanted, you did succeed with it.”

The Irishwoman was going through such an internal conflict. Her rational mind was warning her about the consequences of what this conversation could lead to. But on the other hand, her irrational mind, the one who was being tricked by the lustful atmosphere and Hayley's presence, was aiming her to get lost in Hayley's teasing.

She bit her lower lip and took two steps towards Hayley, not too far away, not too close to her.

The Australian woman was intoxicated by Katie's strong gaze.

For the first time in a really long time, she felt unaware of what to do, so she kept in silence.

“So?”

“So, what?”

Katie noticed she had a little bit more of control over the situation, and she was starting to enjoy every second of it. It was her opportunity to tease Hayley back, and she was not going to waste the occasion to push it until the very end. No matter how it turned out.

“We, the Irish, are quite friendly as long as we feel comfortable with the other person."

Katie took another step forward.

“I know. I just told you I didn't mean t—"

“Shhh. Do you really know?”

Another step forward.

“Because maybe I'll have to be the one who shows you exactly how we truly are.”

Hayley's cheeks were started to have a reddish tone, so prominent as a contrast to her white skin.

“How— How are you— are you going to show me that?”

“Well. You've seen me on the pitch. Why don—”

“Caitlin has seen you too, and you were going to see her after the game. That's why you're here.” Hayley said in a sharper tone, cutting the lustful atmosphere off.

“Maybe we do have something going on. Maybe something not too serious. Maybe that won't make you deny my offer.”

“Maybe I do. I'm no one's sloppy seconds.”

“I know. I don't want you to feel as the second option.” Katie took a final step forward and took Hayley's right hand with her left hand, quickly squeezing it.

“Don't feel obliged to. Take your time to think about it. You can call me anytime, beautiful.”

As Katie headed to the door, it was now Hayley's turn to stop her.

As she grabbed her left arm, she asked her to stay.

“I'm curious about you. I've heard that you said you enjoyed our match being a really physical one.”

“I did. Being physical on the pitch is one of my strengths as a player. I thought it was well-known”, Katie dramatically said, as she gained a cute chuckle from the Australian woman.

“Don't worry. It is well-known.” said Hayley as she rolled her eyes.

“You said— You said it was always a battle to play against me. Did you enjoy fighting against me as much as I did enjoy being physical with you?”

“You can tell I did. Not my favourite way of being physical, but I did have a great time.”

Katie's eyes opened widely as she held a shocked expression for a few seconds. She was not expecting that kind of answer from a Hayley Raso that was slightly embarrassed in front of her not even ten minutes ago.

“Did I scare you, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“You seem—”

“No. I'm fine. Just curious about you too. Tell me which way you enjoy being physical the most.”

“I don't have enough time to properly show you that. Caitlin's gonna arrive any time soon. Does she even know you're here waiting for her?”

“No.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Tell me what do you want, Katie, and with whom.”

As Katie sighed, the door slowly opened, so she grabbed Hayley into the bathroom and locked the door”

“Rass, I'm here! Hayley?"

“Yeah, Cait, I'm taking a shower. Well, I'm about to.” Hayley shouted from the bathroom as she turned on the tap.

“Okay.”

As the sound of the water falling down in the shower, Katie whispered, “She's not leaving?”

“Why the fuck would she leave, Katie? This is her room too. Now tell me why have you locked us in the bathroom?”

They both tried to not be heard by Caitlin, who was laying down on her bed scrolling through her phone.

“What's the plan?”

“You're asking me? You are the one who has locked us in the bathroom, with me being almost naked and you being this near me."

The water kept falling down the tap, camouflaging Katie and Hayley's voices.

“Look, we need to get out of here. You can message Caitlin and tell her to meet you in your hotel room, or in any other place. I can't take a shower for too long, or she will eventually get worried.”

“I haven't answered your question.”

“Katie, this is not the right ti—”

“Shh.” the Irishwoman said as she placed one finger on Hayley's lips.

“I have a thing going on with Caitlin. Nothing too serious. Kind of a fling as we both have just gotten out of a relationship. But it's not easy to have you like this in front of me.” she said as she let her head fall on Hayley's right shoulder. “It's not easy to smell your skin, to sense how soft it is.”

She slightly moved her head, making Hayley shiver.

“I want you to show me your favourite way to being physical, as you said earlier. Not here, not like this, because as you've said, we don't have enough time. I'm not implying to wait until nighttime, because we don't have to, but know that I also have the urge to show you my way of doing things. Things I want you to enjoy without being in a rush. Slowly but steady.”

As Hayley was at a loss of words, Katie continued.

“Don't feel pressured to accept my offer. Have in mind I don't have anything serious with Caitlin nor with anyone else. I'm not prepared yet. As you've said before, I don't like feeling vulnerable in front of people I don't consider close to me, so—”

“But, you're being vulnerable now while telling me this.”

“I know. And it's not easy. But it's sincere. I have no idea of how we are going to get out of here because even if Caitlin and I are nothing serious, I don't want to put you through this situation. But know that I'll be more than happy if today, tomorrow or whenever you feel ready, we spend some time enjoying each other's company.”

“Hayley? I need to use the bathroom.”

Both women inside the bathroom looked at each other with a worried expression.

“The door it's locked Cait. I'm sorry. Wait until I'm done.”

As she heard Caitlin swear, she pleaded Katie, “God, Katie, message her anything. She needs to get out of this room so you can leave.”

As Katie agreed to do so, she looked for her phone.

“What?”

“My phone's out there. On the bed.”

“WHA—”

“Shh.”

As Katie rushed to cover Hayley's mouth, Caitlin asked confused, “You okay, Rass?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Are you always this noisy?”

“Katie, not the time for this kind of jokes.”

“I'm not joki—”

“Rass, I'm going to Sam's room to use her bathroom. Take your time, girl. Let's see if when I come back you're still playing The Little Mermaid.”

As they heard Caitlin getting out of the room, Katie rushed to grab her phone and left, not before leaving a soft caress on Hayley's cheek, “Keep me updated, beautiful mermaid. You know my Instagram.”

Surprisingly, Katie succeeded into getting out of the hotel without being caught by any Australian members.

As she was on her way to her hotel, she received a few messages from Hayley.

hayleyraso: It wasn't easy for me either to have you so damn near me.

hayleyraso: Let me know if you have any ideas for our meeting...today

Katie smiled.

katie_mccabe11: I'll book a room in a hotel where there won't be any football players staying. Not an easy task, though.

hayleyraso: okay, pretty girl

katie_mccabe11: see you later 🧜‍♀️🫧🛁

#katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #hayley raso #hayley raso x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 25

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 25: comfort

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

Another big storm came from the ocean. I was grateful that construction and other projects were paused because it gave me the time to stress sketch. Reading helped but sketching really seemed to help loosen any built up stress I had stored in my neck and shoulders.

And stressed I very much was.

It was mid summer and four more surface Overlords had gone missing. Territories were toppling and being combined into a sort of Clan that Blackwater was running. Yet he still remained a ghost, completely untouchable. He was building an empire. And I knew he was going to come for us eventually.

Knowing Blackwater and how thorough and evasive he has been, I knew he would build up his power and empire until he was strong enough to come challenge Alastor. Or, he would be slick about it and try to catch Alastor off guard like he had done with Reagan and I in that hidden factory.

Alastor insisted we were fine but I didn't believe him. Blackwater was smart and obviously very good with technology. He created an entire room that could prevent people from using their magic yet he could wield it freely as a Human. What else could he figure out? He was creating the very thing Overlords had been working so hard to prevent: a collective power of Humans.

Hazbin Haven wasn't anywhere near the power of such a possible empire. We had Demons and Slight Humans but they were here to escape the persecution, to escape the fighting. Blackwater wasn't going to stop at just one nation or body of land. He was going to make sure the entire world was rid of Demon-kind. We might be last on his list but he was moving fast.

I knew I was bothering Alastor with my frequent concerns and nightmares but they were starting to become real.

Lucifer had mentioned during some of my training sessions that I might have future visions. I had already had a couple but I didn't think anything of it. Nowadays, I was starting to have small little scenarios during a nap or at the tail end of a dream that would come true a few days later. I couldn't change them or even predict them before they happened. I could only recognize when the vision came true.

I asked Alastor to speak with Lucifer and set up a more frequent time to meet with the King of Hell so he could teach me more about Angelic magic. Alastor wasn't happy about it but he didn't say no.

Progress.

I heard him calling for me. I was sitting on the window seat in the library sketching the corner of the room. I was practicing quick, rough sketching before going in for finer details. I was trying to finish the quick sketch before answering. I didn't want to break my concentration, plus he would see me once he came down the stairs.

But he kept calling. It was a call, then a question, then sweet, then just annoyed that I was ignoring him. I knew he could see me from where he walked into the living room. Why was he still calling me? Couldn't he tell I was focused?

I shifted more comfortably, back haunched over the sketch pad, and continued to focus on the corner of the room. He tried again, more forcibly, and I responded with a terse, "What Al?"

I was finishing the edge of the rug in the corner when I noticed the prolonged silence. He had stopped calling my name and was just standing there, staring at me. That's when it finally registered in my head what I had just said.

I stopped sketching. I slowly straightened my back, eyes anxiously moving up his long legs to meet his eyes. I couldn't tell what his smile meant. Was it surprise? Was it annoyance? He blinked twice before coming back to reality. He stepped to the side to reveal Reagan waiting in the living room. I had forgotten she was coming up to chat with me.

"Sorry, I was just so focused," I laughed lightly. I closed the pad and left it on the seat, waltzing over to  Reagan and letting my tail drag lightly across his boot. I tried to briefly touch his mind but I couldn't quite catch what he was feeling. Why had I said his name like that? I had heard Husker use that nickname but I had never once used it.

Reagan and I took a walk along the shore. We couldn't go into towns anymore since Blackwater's rise to power. Both of us were too nervous after last time when we had left the haven. So we agreed to walk along the beach instead.

The rain was still present but the wind had died down for the early evening. I kept the rain from hitting us like Alastor had done so many times to the two of us. She talked to me about helping Vivian with the children and all the fun and stupid things that happen in the new school building.

We didn't walk for very long. The rain had made it cold and our feet were getting pale from walking on the cold beach. I walked her back to the haven where Lucas 'happened' to be walking along the edges. A smile grew on my face as I watched the two of them talk and walk down the street. I realized then just how much the haven had grown.

How much I had grown.

I found Alastor sitting by the fireplace. The dark outside made the living room feel more safe and warm. His eyes slowly opened to look at me, smile showing only a few of his upper teeth. "How was the walk?" he asked, holding his hand out for me to take.

I crossed the room, practically a magnet to his hand, and wrapped my claws around his. The last edges of cold disappeared as his presence and magic blended with mine. In one swift movement, he pulled me down and lifted my leg to have me sitting sideways on his lap, legs folded over his knees. His claw came up my back to keep me from falling over the armchair and the other kept my thigh securely on his leg.

"Relax your muscles, darling." He planted a few kisses on the side of my neck. It had taken a surprising amount of effort to get my shoulders, and especially my legs, to lower and loosen up. Now I was starting to feel way too warm.

He tilted his head up and waited, waited for me to lean down and kiss him. The action felt strange this time as I leaned my head down. His hand on my thigh moved a little further while the other one on my back pressed me closer.

I wrapped one arm around the back of his neck and rested a hand perfectly on the curve of his shoulder. A moment later he broke the kiss and found my eyes with his gentle, beady red ones.

"Say, my darling," his smile turned into a smirk, "what compelled you to say my name in such a way earlier?" My eyes widened and my face grew even more red. I tried to get off but he fastened his grip with a laugh, "Not so fast, my dear. I'm only curious."

"It just kinda came out," I replied, refusing to look in his direction. "I've heard Husker call you that. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"Come now, my darling." He placed a kiss on the exposed part of my shoulder. "I didn't say that you shouldn't. I had only asked why."

"Well...that's why." I still wouldn't look at him. My face was too hot and I knew he would make a comment about it. So he wasn't angry about the nickname?

"Darling~" He leaned his face close to my neck so his breath would brush against my skin. He then slowly ran his tongue up my neck muscle. I bit my lip.

He placed small, light kisses along it next. When I still wouldn't look at him, he ran his sharp teeth gently across my skin. I pushed him back in the chair by a splayed hand on his chest. A spark of anger crossed his features before the smugness took over.

"I do believe we agreed that I would have your attention in the evenings." His tentacle came up to pull on the bend of my elbow so we closed the distance. "So do hold up your end of the deal." His hand on my back pressed a little more.

"Of course, Al," I said right before I kissed him. His surprise lasted only a millisecond. He laughed into the kiss then let out a content sigh, breath brushing on my upper lip. The sensation sent goosebumps up my arms and made a heavy burning build in my chest. I pressed harder into the kiss.

I was higher than him, only slightly, but it was something different.

He gently pulled my one hand off his shoulder and led it to his hair. I hummed a laugh into the kiss as I threaded my fingers through his hair. I slowly moved up to his ear and gave just enough pressure up the entirety of it.

His claws held on to me tighter, deepening the kiss and running his tongue along my teeth. I moved my hand to the back of his head and pressed like he was doing to my back. Occasionally I used my claws gently enough and it earned a full body shudder from him each time.

His hands moved closer to each other, moving down my back and further up my thigh. His claws found the edge of my shirt and slipped underneath to touch my skin.

Scenes flashed in my eyes and I jerked away. My hands shoved his away and kept them locked in a deadly grip. I had pushed him out of my mind and kept him there.

His smile looked pained. "I overstepped again."

"I just...I'm not...we didn't..."

His hands were still locked in my grip but his eyes were holding me firmly in place. "Easy darling. Think on it before you attempt to explain it."

He glanced to his hands. I gradually unstuck each claw until I had let go of him completely. I stood up, facing burning from embarrassment, and avoided looking in his general direction. I wanted to curl up in a dark cave and never come back.

"Darling."

I hadn't realized how close he had gotten. He held out his hand from behind, towering from behind but not in his usual demeaning way. It felt like was trying to hug me from a distance.

It took me a moment longer before I placed my hand on his, back still to him, and let him press a soft kiss to the top of my head near my horns. My claws looked so small in his large palm, red claws covering mine. I lowered my shields to him only slightly, allowing him to press close but not yet enter.

"Let us begin our routine," he offered. I'm not sure what it was about our nightly routine that made me feel more at ease and more comfortable. I changed in my room and sat on the edge of his bed with my novel. His eyes remained focused on his abstract, eyes looking through his round glasses and ear flapping occasionally at slight noises.

I tried to read but I couldn't focus. My mind kept going back to him, kept forcing me to look over for any signs of anger.

Yet there wasn't.

I lowered my shields but didn't pull him in or try to touch his own. I wanted to know what he was feeling but I didn't dare try to go anywhere near him. I didn't want to risk upsetting him somehow.

I decided to call it a night. I turned away from him and left the book on the table. He noticed my back facing him and asked, "Done for the night?"

"Yeah."

He took off his glasses, the sound of them bending and being placed on the table reaching my ears easily, and snuffed the fire out. I listened intently to the sound of him shifting down and eventually going still, going silent.

I stared into the darkness, heart pounding painfully loud in my ears and hands gripping the sheet tightly. I didn't like having my back to him but I was too scared to turn over.

"Darling," he called, making me jump.

"Yes?"

"Why are you still frightened?"

"I'm not." I turned my head a little despite the pitch blackness of the room.

"I can feel it."

Shit. I drew my magic back not realizing that it had subconsciously melded with him.

"S-sorry."

"It is not something to apologize for. I was only asking the reason for it."

I went quiet. He didn't sound upset and he hadn't feel upset when our magic had touched. There was definitely something close to impatience but he always felt that way.

"I-I'm sure you wanted to do more but I made us stop," I finally answered.

There was a long moment of silence. I wanted to touch our magic to see what he was thinking. Was he looking at me or just staring into the darkness?

His voice broke the silence again. "Are you afraid I am angry with you?"

"Aren't you?" I turned over more so I could just see his dark outline. My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness.

"No, my dear. I am quite the opposite. I am worried."

"Why?" I turned over to face him. I could sense his magic as he made it light enough for me to see his eyes. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards me.

"I do not wish to cause such fear in you. I wish for you to feel safe in my presence."

"I do feel safe around you. It's just..." I trailed off, avoiding his gaze again.

He pulled his hand out from under the covers and left it face up on the mattress in between us. I moved closer and laid my hand in his, watching his claws carefully and slowly enclose on mine. I still didn't know why I liked looking at our claws like that.

"Do you fear I will force myself onto you?" he asked.

I pressed my cheek into the pillow and casted my eyes to my shoulder until the edges went dark from the strain. I shouldn't be shocked by his bluntness. That was his style, after all.

"I'm not sure," I admitted slowly, tightening my grip on his hand, "I'm...I...get really nervous. That's all."

"My dear." He rolled on his side and gently brushed his fingers along my cheek with his other hand now that we were close enough. "Your definition of fear and nervous are sorely misguided."

"They're pretty much the same." I casted a gentle glared up at him. It instantly fell when our eyes met.

"It is an unexplainable fear when I touch you in that way, yes?" he prompted.

"Yes."

"Then I am telling you it is not. You are experiencing flash backs to what that wretched man did to you." My eyes stayed glued to his, somehow unable to look away this time. "At first I had thought it was because you still feared me in such a way. However, the memories that present themselves when this happens is from your time in the rings."

"Oh." I tore my eyes from his to look down at our claws. I had been trying to keep that memory pushed out of my mind. I had blocked it out after it had happened but had to face it when unraveling my curse. He had seen it. He had killed the man, too. It wasn't as if I was afraid this man would find me and do it again. Even if he did, surely Alastor wouldn't let that happen again. So why was I still scared?

"I will not force myself on you in such a way." He laid his large palm on my cheek as lightly and gently as he could, his thumb rubbing back and forth across my skin. "I have taken the lead in everything. This time, I will allow for you to take the lead."

I met his eyes and watched his smile turn genuine. I couldn't stop the smile that mimicked his, watching it grow as I did so. The weight on my cheek grew heavier as I moved my fingers to interlock with his claws. My tail came up to wrap around his ankle. A radio came on to play a soft, smooth tune. I laughed lightly at the action, knowing he was trying to find a way to make me feel more at ease.

I moved closer until my cheek was against his chest. I sucked in a deep breath of his smokey, cedar wood scent. I could feel the ridges of his chest under the black long sleeve without his usual layer of clothes. 

His arms wrapped firmly, securely, around my shoulder and hooked one of his legs with mine. He placed a gentle kiss on my hair before taking a deep breath of my own scent. I let our magic blend together. I could read his emotions, feelings, and thoughts. He was worried but seemed happy, too.

"Why are you sad?" Worry suddenly took over as he tried to pull away to see my face. I kept my arms tightly around him and face pressed into his chest. I didn't want him to see me crying.

"It's relief."

He wasn't sure what to do at that, still stiff and trying to see my face.

Just hug me back. I sent through our thoughts. The worry stepped away as he encased me back in his safe hug. The cold had disappeared and the overwhelming heat had abated, leaving me in the perfect temperature. I took another deep breath.

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

Author's Note:

Hope you guys liked this comfort chapter. @jgabriel1920 and @wendigonamecaller gave me the idea.

Thank you to all of you for your support and kindness! I honestly wasn't expecting it <3

Hopefully I'll be back to daily posts by next week.

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

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

[whiskey-bumblebee]

whatever that means

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: 1537

A/N: not part of I'm on Fire, but it's touch tank compliant! just a little thing that had been swimming around in my head. The article text is taken from a 2004 copy of Psychology Today so it's a little bit early for my Hotch (c. 2007) but I did my best y'all. Also not that anyone cares but the movie they're watching is 10 things i hate about you <3

Warnings: sex? but not... steamy sex? like... plot sex. Hotch is insecure but there's a lot of comfort <3

faceless hotch still courtesy of @lesbianhotch <3 <3

The bed shifts slightly and you feel a rush of cold against your legs as Aaron lifts the duvet and the heavy winter blanket. You reach for him blindly, too tired to open your eyes and accept the chilly morning.

You mumble his name, and he kisses your cheek tenderly.

"Go back to sleep honey, just going to the bathroom," He whispers, and you nod, pulling the blankets up to your chin and pressing your face deep into the pillow.

When you wake up an hour or so later, you open your eyes properly, and take in the cosy sight of your partner lying in bed with you, skimming through a magazine. You reach over and nudge his hand slightly so you can see the cover.

"Psychology Today?"

You laugh lightly, and move closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder so you can see what he's reading.

"Have to stay up to date," He jokes dryly, and you kiss his cheek, feeling filled to the brim with love for him. That's your man, this reading-psychology-magazines-in-bed-on-a-Sunday man, this mussed hair man, this man who's brushed his teeth so he doesn't feel like he's contaminating you by kissing you. You open your mouth slightly and he pops a mint into it, knowing what you're asking for.

"Any sexy articles you want to read to me?"

"Well, according to Arlene Goldman," He murmurs. "Good sex is about having the right attitude." He flicks a few pages back to where he'd briefly skimmed that article.

"Read to me?" You ask sweetly, letting your eyes close so you can focus on his low voice, feeling the way it makes its way from his chest out of his throat, over his tongue, between his lips.

"Give yourself permission to completely experience sex and its pleasures. That means you must let go of guilt, self-consciousness, judgments and personal hang-ups. Also, forget about your to do list and be prepared to fully experience the moment, says Goldman," Aaron reads.

"Are you feeling," You run your hand up Aaron's bare chest. "Hung up?" Your tone is teasing, and he drops the magazine, turning towards you to press a kiss to your lips.

You reach down to feel him, and feel that he's already rock hard.

"Aaron," You breathe. "Damn."

"Want you," He says, leaning back in to kiss you again.

It must be your fourth or fifth round when you press your hand softly to Aaron's chest.

"It's starting to chafe, baby," You say softly. "I can blow you if you want to come again?"

He shakes his head, breathing heavily. "I'm okay. Want me to stop?"

You nod, and he rolls off you immediately, springing up to fetch you a warm washcloth. He's gone for a while, presumably waiting for the water to warm up enough that the cloth will retain the heat (your water heater always seems to struggle on these cooler mornings).

"Do you want some juice or something?" He calls.

"Yes please," You reply. "Do we still have cranberry juice?"

He returns a few minutes later with the juice and the washcloth.

You thank him and rest the warm cloth over your pubic area, letting it ease the slight pain there. It's nothing too awful, just the result of continuous stimulation.

"Was that good?" He runs a finger over your eyebrow, where the hairs were sticking up at all angles from how you'd thrown your hand over your face in the throes of pleasure.

You nod. "Yeah, not for every day, but it was good," You smile.

After drinking your juice and going to the bathroom, you settle back into bed, encouraging Aaron to wrap his arms around you so you can spoon with him.

You press your ass back towards his hips, and he clears his throat, shifting his hips uneasily. You feel his erection pressing against you.

"Are you still hard?" You ask softly.

"Yes," He breathes.

"I'm sorry," You say. "I can't go again yet."

He kisses your temple tenderly. "Don't worry. It's not bothering me."

x x x x x

"Could you fetch a cough drop from the medicine cabinet? I don't feel like getting up," Aaron says, and you nod quickly, standing from the sofa.

"You okay?" You ask, and he nods.

"My throat's just a bit dry," He says, pausing the movie you'd been watching.

There's a silence that comes over the house, and it doesn't lift when you walk back into the room, a cherry cough drop in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other.

He freezes when he sees what you're holding, and you quickly go back to the sofa to sit beside him, setting the bottle aside as you give him the cough drop.

He's quiet for a long time, his face reddening with each passing second. It's so silent that you can hear him passing the cough drop from one side of his mouth to the other. In the end it's you who breaks the silence.

"I know it's none of my business, but... Has this been a problem for you?"

He shakes his head quickly.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," You say. "A lot of men take it."

He says your name softly, looking at you for any evidence that you're passing a secret judgment about his sexual performance.

"Is this why you were hard for so long the other day?"

"Yeah," He breathes.

"Was that the first time you've taken viagra?"

He looks down at the floor, suddenly incredibly attentive to the pattern of the rug. He'd never noticed that there were so many different shades of green in it.

"Aaron, I'm not trying to embarrass you, it's just that there are side effects that I can keep an eye out for if I know you're taking it," You explain. "And if you want to have less sex, or you're not feeling it, we can always slow down."

He shakes his head. "It's not that, it's just... I know sex is important to you, and I didn't want it to be a thing. I thought I'd get a prescription so that it didn't have to be a problem."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay. Please tell me if it is ever too much for you. It is important to me, but I don't ever want to have sex if you don't want to be having it."

Noticing how he's slumping into the couch and avoiding your eyes, you take his hands in yours.

"Hey, I love you. You don't have to take this stuff for my sake. Have there ever been times that I've wanted sex and you haven't been able to get an erection?"

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. "No. You make me so hard," He glances at you as he says the last part of the sentence, and you beam.

"I know that you like having sex on Sunday mornings, and I was just worried that you might want multiple rounds and I wasn't lasting like you wanted me to. Especially since I'm not as young as I used to be..."

"No!" You exclaim, louder than you meant to. "Oh my god, no, Aaron. You're perfect. If we were having more sex I think we'd run into problems. I worried I was going to get a UTI if we went much longer."

You straddle his lap, the paused movie behind your back completely forgotten.

"I love your stamina. I find it incredibly sexy that you fuck me the way you do. I love how you can always talk to me about what you need. I love your cock, but most importantly, I love you, Aaron. The sex is fucking incredible, but it's incredible because it's sex with you. It's sex with your hands, and your voice, and your body, and our relationship, and all of this love I have for you," You ramble, pressing your hands to his cheeks and your forehead to his.

You laugh to yourself, happiness flooding your veins. "All of this love. I'm amazed that I can fit all of it in one body."

When you lean back so you can look at him properly, you see that his eyes are watery. He cups the side of your face with his left hand, and you lean into his touch, closing your eyes with a small smile.

"I love you, honey," He says softly, running his thumb over your cheekbone. "Thank you."

You shrug. "It's nothing. I don't mind if you keep them, and if you ever do need them, but tell me if you take them, okay? There are some side effects that I'd want to look out for."

He nods. "Promise."

You look at him and feel love blossom in your chest again. "I'm gonna marry the hell out of you one day."

He laughs, and the sound makes you feel like you've sprouted wings.

"Alright. C'mon, I wanna see if the guy gets the girl," He says, slipping you from his lap into the space beside him. You rest your head on his shoulder.

"You know that he does," You say quietly. "You've seen this one before."

He kisses your forehead. "I know."

#aaron hotchner/reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch/reader #hotch #criminal minds #my writing

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝐼𝐼: 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓉 𝐵𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝑀𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓁 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: John and Vincent bickering...and that's pretty much it, this one's kinda fluffy

Summary: John finds an out-of-the-way motel where he and Vincent can spend the night in hiding.

A dusty, sun-faded sign read “Blue Moon Motel” in yellow across a periwinkle moon. John almost missed it, and it was for that exact reason that he took a sharp turn just in time to swing into the mostly empty parking lot. It couldn’t be more inconspicuous, and the only thing that caught his eye at all was the flickering neon “Vacancy” sign, half obscured by branches. Perfect.

Even so, it would be a roll of the dice. A hitman could be anywhere, even behind the counter of the tiniest motel. He sat behind the wheel for a moment, gazing at the lit window of the lobby, gathering himself. Should he wake Vincent? No, best not. He was as likely to be another obstacle as a help. Feeling the reassuring weight of a pistol at his hip, he reluctantly left Vincent in the backseat and entered.

Luck was on his side, for the first time all evening. The sole employee, a 60-something in a shockingly pink puff-sleeved blouse, was fast asleep with her face in her crossword puzzle. She had a faded flower tattoo on her forearm, but it wasn’t anything he recognized as an underworld symbol. He cleared his throat, and when that failed, rang the bell. Her name was Marjorie. She did not, as he had feared, pull a gun on him the moment she saw his face. In fact, she booked him a room without asking awkward questions, even when he paid cash.

Nonetheless, he wished she would move a little faster. His ears were trained on the road outside, waiting for an engine in the distance, for a grim reaper going motel to motel, searching. He could already picture them checking the cars, peering down at Vincent and Dog, pulling a gun –

“Room 105. There’ll be a queen bed. Find me if the AC acts up. Breakfast’s 7 to 10. Sleep tight - you look like you need it, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“Thanks. Have a good night, ma’am.” He forced himself not to turn away too quickly, and not to run out the door.

But of course, the night was just as silent as before, and the car untouched. He exhaled in relief. God, this day had fried his nerves.

He opened the door to the backseat and lifted back the throw blanket to reveal an innocent-looking man. Positively angelic, in fact, with a button nose and uncommonly full lips, all dressed in bloodied white finery. He hurt to look at. Soft auburn locks swept back from his forehead, so smooth in the mercy of unconsciousness. In combination with blood loss, the moonlight washed his already pale cheeks even whiter, setting off high cheekbones and deep-set eyes for the overall effect of one in desperate need of saving from an imminent death. This face, which had ordered murders, which had mocked love itself, which had been spouting its worst venom at him five hours ago, was harming no one now. Just lying there, innocent, needing rest and protection.

To hell with it. John slid his arms under Vincent’s back and legs and lifted him…well, not like it was nothing - he was a huge, sprawling bulk of a man, taller than John, and it was a challenge to cradle his head properly without aggravating his chest. But John managed things as gracefully as he could, focusing on not dropping him and trying very hard not to focus on his own heart, which was going inexplicably haywire. Vincent smelled of expensive vanilla cologne even after hours of sweating and his head was lolling back against John’s shoulder in a way that sent thrills through him. No doubt he’d hate to see himself right now. Please don’t wake up until I can put you down, John thought as he struggled to turn the key with the hand that stuck out from under Vincent’s thighs.

“Qu'est-ce que tu crois faire, bordel? [What the fuck do you think you’re doing?]”

And just like that, the innocent cherub was gone. “Je te rabaisse dès que possible. [Putting you down as soon as I can.]” The door swung open and, still in the dark, John laid him onto the bed, minding his chest and head carefully even if the bastard didn’t deserve it. “You seemed…peaceful, so I just… Did I hurt you anywhere?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, I think I’m just sore from the drive. Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Great idea.” He stepped back, catching his breath, and switched on the bedside lamp. It revealed a dingy room with an armchair in one corner, a TV, the bed, and not much else. Despite the nonsmoking sign, it smelled of cigarettes. Dog explored the corners and stuck his head under the bedside table.

“Where are we?”

“Blue Moon Motel, just outside Allentown, PA. Not what you’re used to, I’d imagine,” John said. “But it’s rural. Better chance of not being found overnight.”

“Fair enough. You would know what’s best in these…situations.” Vincent stretched himself and began to stand. “I can walk, by the way.”

“Thought we were never speaking of that again.”

“Well, I’m about to go get a drink of water, and I’d rather not have to stab you for trying to get me to the sink.”

John was blushing. Why was he blushing? “Right.” He went to bring the bag from the car, and stood in the coolness for a few minutes, listening to the night birds. He had to get his head on straight. Whatever he was feeling towards the Marquis could not possibly be reciprocated. Friendship? Obviously impossible - Vincent couldn’t stand him. Attraction? As if. Vincent probably spent the night with models anytime he wanted. Empathy? He’d probably never felt that in his life and made it very clear that he didn’t desire it from others. Any attempt to connect with him on an emotional level would at best lead to embarrassment, and would at worst further traumatize him.

By the time John returned, he was already in bed again, laying in the center with both pillows stacked under his head. “The bed is mine, by the way. Your loss that you didn’t get a room for two.”

“That would have been suspicious. I’m fine with the chair anyway. Are you going to sleep?” He moved towards the light switch.

“No. How am I supposed to sleep when this ordeal is still completely unresolved?”

“Same way you did in the car?”

“That was when I hadn’t slept in two days thanks to the stress of the tribunal, and then the flight to the states. Now I’m wound up again.” He sighed. “I still can’t believe this is happening. After I’ve proven myself a formidable enemy, determined to bring the High Table greater glory than it has ever seen, they throw all of that away. Ridiculous.”

With this, John could agree. “They have no loyalty to you or to anyone.”

“Loyalty to the powerless is foolishness. But disloyalty to the powerful…that’s also foolishness.” It rolled off his tongue easily.

“Is that a quote?”

“Oui. I will show them my power and their idiocy will be corrected.”

John just shook his head and leaned back against the wall. “I can’t say I see the point in it.”

“That surprises me. You’ve had your share of vengeful murder sprees.”

“Not for power, or loyalty. Just to…well, just because I couldn’t not.” He struggled to organize his thoughts for a moment. “Sometimes you care about something and there’s no other way to express it. Maybe because the thing you love…or the person…is out of reach. Already gone. So all you can do is wreck the thing that took them.”

The Marquis tsked. “This is what happens when you let love run away with you. It breeds a total loss of control.” He took a ring from his left hand, and held it up to the lamp. The High Table sigil shone crisply on it even in the dim, yellowy light. “Do you know why I wear this on my ring finger, even though I’m not married?”

“No.”

“It keeps courtesans from getting ideas. A man of my station cannot afford distractions or liabilities, much less those who will seek the advantages of his title through the bedroom. I alone pursue what matters to me, I alone manage my affairs, I alone win honor for the name of Gramont.”

“There was a lot of ‘alone’ in that sentence.”

A livid glare twitched the corners of his mouth. “How astute. Well, I happen to enjoy being alone with myself, because the company is good. Perhaps you wouldn’t know what that’s like. Goodness knows it’s a headache to be stuck with you.“

Damn it, thought John, I’ve already done it again. “I’m not trying to make this hell for you, believe it or not.”

“Then be quiet. I need to think. They are coming for me. If I was in their position, I would never stop.” Vincent took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. “I need a loophole, an angle...and all the while, anyone could come through the door...”

You need to sleep, not think, John wanted to say. No, stop it. Let the man do what he wants. Leave him alone. But the look of frayed nerves on Vincent’s face was clawing him from the inside out.

With Herculean restraint, “Fine.” There was only one thing he could do now to help Vincent. Only one thing he was good for. He turned the armchair towards the door, took a gun in hand, and waited for something to kill.

“What are you doing now?”

“What I promised to do. Protecting you. Think. Sleep. Do what you need to do. If anyone comes through that door, they’re dead.”

Thus, his vigil began. Dog settled into his lap and a strange, trancelike bliss stole over him. He was in no danger of falling asleep. Somehow, with the knowledge that Vincent was safe behind him, there was something entertaining even about staring at a closed door. The faint sounds of the wind in the trees outside mixed with Vincent’s breathing, and the occasional rustle of pillows or dramatic sigh which gave him some fragment of information about the Marquis’ position and mood. Charged with that information, the whole room buzzed vividly around him.

At some point, Vincent took the motel’s branded notepad and pencil from the beside table and started writing plans which were, one by one, tossed past John into the wastepaper basket on the other side of the room. This continued for a while before there was stillness again.

It was 3:30 AM before he roused himself enough to look at the clock. When he did, it was only because Dog jumped down from his lap. “Where you going?”

He jumped onto the bed where Vincent lay with an arm across his face, the notepad tossed aside. John glanced over at them apprehensively, keen on ensuring that they played nice. The Marquis muttered something under his breath in irritation as Dog sniffed out the blood on his chest. But Dog was not to be deterred. He licked at Vincent’s chin with concern until he relented and scratched behind his ears, saying softly, “Bon chien. Vous êtes fidèle, n'est-ce pas? Reste ici, à côté de moi. [Good dog. You're loyal, aren't you? Stay here, next to me.]”

The next time he looked, it was 4:30. Vincent was asleep, with Dog curled up against the crook of his neck, their heads resting together. A miracle: the angel had taken over Vincent’s body again.

John stood to turn off the light, and caught a glimpse of the notepad on the bed. It lay amongst torn off pages full of scribbled legalese and lines drawn from one name to another, mapping out a network of debts. But the most recent page, not yet torn off, was different from the rest. It was a drawing. And it was damn good.

There was a portrait of John scowling, from memory.  And next to it, on the same page, was a study of his hand gripping the gun as it dangled over the arm of the chair, and dog peeking around the chair to look at Vincent. It was casually done, and it was titled – or perhaps more accurately, it was scribbled upon, next to him and next to Dog. His portrait was titled, “le gros chien de garde stupide [the big, stupid guard dog]”, and Dog’s was titled, “le petit chien de garde intelligent [the little, clever guard dog]”. John stared at it for a long time, switched off the light, and then returned to his post, now in even less danger of sleeping. He gazed into the darkness, trying not to smile, seeing only that drawing until the sun rose.

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#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers #churchduel

[supercriminalbean]

Lets get a drink Dave.

David Rossi x Male!reader.

Summary: Rossi runs into his ex on a case, what happens when it didn't excatly end well.

Warning: HOMOPHOBIA, crying, fake death, death, family disowning, car crash, murder, unsub stuff, lossing kids. (Please let me know if I have missed anything)

Words. 10.3K

A/N: OMG IM SO EXCITED THAT IVE FINIALLY FINISHED THIS. I start this wayyyy to long ago (Back in april opps) This story I fucking love, so I hope you enjoy, yesss we get Bi Rossi so enjoy it my loves.

As the team flies over to Seattle, they have a few hours to relax before Hotch gathers them, ready to discuss any more information that Garica may have found them over the last few hours. The case they are investigating this time involved four male victims in their 40s, they were viciously murdered. Their faces are almost impossible to identify, making the team think whoever the unsub is harvesting anger for must look similar to their victims. 

“This is the queen of all knowledge, ask away” Garcia smiles brightly at her team when she pops up on the screen.

“Hey Garcia, have you got any more information on the victims or the last place they were seen?” Hotch asks her.

“Yes, I have actually already been working with the detective of the case, he's been helping me narrow down a few things. So all our victims all worked in the same 5 block radius and get this, each victim's body was disposed of between 1 to 2 miles down from the victim's beforehands workplaces, so his comfort zone is not big at all” Garcia lights up as she speaks.

“Which means his next victims must be close by as well, hey Garcia can you have a look and see if—” Reid starts to speak.

“See if there's any boring middle type jobs and workers they fit our description of our victim, me and detective (Y/l) are already on it” Garcia smirks up at them seeing their surprised and impressive looks staring back at her. Rossi's eyebrows narrow hearing that name, his mind being to race. He hasn’t heard that name in a long time.

“Anything else bossman?” Garcia grins up at them.

“That's it, thanks Garcia” Hotch smiles, moving his finger to the keyboard, ready to end the call.

“Wait Garcia, did you say (Y/L) as in Detective (Y/n) (Y/l)” Rossi's body has tenses up, but he does his best to relax as he feels his team all look towards him.

“Yeah that's the one,” Garcia nods in confirmation.  

“How do you know him?” Morgan pipes up, noticing the change of mood in Rossi. 

“Oh we worked together years ago” Rossi lies well, turning his head to Hotch. Feeling his heated stare, knowing if anyone could read him it would be him.

“Oh good, that will be nice for you two to work together again then” Emily smiles. Soon the topic moves on but Rossi can’t help but focus on the way his heart is pounding in his chest. The thought of seeing you again after so many years is terrifying, you two didn’t exactly end well, and having to hide his past from a team of profilers wasn’t exactly his plan this morning. 

~~~

Once the Jet has landed, night time has already fallen. The team heads straight to the police station knowing it's too late to visit anything else tonight. 

“Hello, you're the FBI team right?” One of the younger police officers jumps off their seats when they spot the BAU team walk in, ready to greet them.

“Yes, I'm Agent Hotchner” Aaron shakes the eager officer's hand.

“The captain is just on the phone but I can show your guys where you all can set up” They smile, leading the team to a conference room, walking past the captain's office on the way. Dave can’t help but slow down and look through your office window seeing you sat at your desk, facing away from them all. Even though he can’t see you properly, just the small glimpse at you brings back memories of your two relationships, something that he hasn’t allowed himself to think about in almost eight years. Hotch can’t help but glance at Dave, feeling as if something is wrong with him. The team doesn’t get much time to set up when you interrupt them, knocking gently on the door when you walk in.

“Good evening everyone” Smiling lightly as you walk in, seeing everyone scattered around the room. Your eyes landing on a taller more put together agent your guessing must be Agent Hotchner.

“Evening, you must be Detective (Y/l)” Hotch walks over, extending his hand, you shake it with a sharp nod.

“That's me, you must be Agent Aaron Hotchner, I’ve already been talking to your technique analysis, she’s great, a bit different but amazing the things she can find” You chuckle softly at the mention of Garcia.

“Oh yeah, that's Garcia alright, let me introduce you to the rest of my team” Hotch points around the room introducing his team, who all smile in response. “Hey uh, does anyone know where Daves gone?” Hotch's eyes narrow as he scans the room for him.

“He went to find the coffee machine” JJ speaks up, before turning back to the notice board, adding some picture up to it. 

“The coffee machine broke, but I got told there's a coffee shop open 24 hours just down the road” Dave walks in, his words trailing off as he sees you standing in the middle of the room. You don’t mean to tense up when you hear his voice but it's one hell of a shock hearing your ex's voice for the first time in almost eight years. You turn around slowly feeling on edge, as you lock eyes with him.

“David” The only word you're able to speak, letting out a small breath as you read the emotions swirling in his eyes, the guilt, the pain, the fear.

“(Y/n), It's good to see you again” He smiles weakly, doing his best to fix his mask that's starting to slip, knowing his whole team is watching, profiling them.

“That's– yeah, you to” Nodding at him faintly, knowing that this isn't the time or place for the conversation you're itching to have. “I wasn't aware you were back on the team, but 

I shouldn’t be surprised working is what you love to do” Smiling forcefully before turning your attention back to Hotch. 

“When you guys arrived I was on the phone with a detective in the next police jurisdiction, they think they have a body he seems to fit the description of our victims, I was just about to head over there to check it out, I’m assuming some of your agents want to join me?” You resume back to your professional manor, doing your best to ignore how much your blood seems to be pumping into your heart, causing it to ache. 

“Yes, you assume right” Hotch nods. Turning around to find the man, you believe he said his name was Morgan.

“Morgan, Dave you two join Detective (Y/l) in the field” He orders, you manage to keep your face steady, knowing that this could easily happen.

“Got it boss” Morgan nods, making eye contact with the woman on his left, the one you believe is called Prentiss. 

“Alright, lets go” You walk out, refusing to look at Dave when you walk past him. 

~~~

The drive to the crime scene is quiet and awkward, taking almost 20 minutes to get there. Morgan sits in the back, glancing between you and Dave the whole time. Soon the silence starts getting unbearable for him.

“So (Y/L), how long have you been the captain of the department for?” Morgan asks, hoping to break up the silence. Finding the tenses in the car too much between the quiet and longing glances Rossi keeps sending you. 

“Almost five years now but I’ve worked in the police department for the last 30 years, I’ve worked in precincts all over this country” Glancing in the rearview mirror at Morgan giving him a small forced small. 

“Oh damn that's a long time, so what must you have joined when you were in your 20’s?” Morgan smiles, glancing at Rossi briefly.

“I did, as soon as I got back from being drafted into the war, I joined the police force straight away, and I’ve been here ever since”

“Oh wow, so you used your job to travel the country, so where were you when you meant Rossi then?” Morgan decided that beating around the bush is taking too long, wanting to get an answer quicker.

“We’ll we met when I was stationed in New york actually” You avoid looking at anyone when New york is mentioned, already feeling Dave's eyes burning holes into you.

“What case were you working on?” Morgan can’t help but glance at Rossi, never having seen this man so focused on someone who's not an unsub before. 

“Serial child kidnapper, he took nine kids over the course of four weeks and three cities, finally trapped him in New york” Rossi finally speaks. For the first time since they entered the car, his voice is quiet seeming to be on edge, he does his best to keep calm. 

“He didn’t kill any of them, I’m glad we managed to save them in time” You smile sadly at the memory of finding the nine kids in the back of a truck. The fear on all their faces still haunts you to this very day, 25 years later.

~~~

Morgan and you head over to where the body lies in the alleyway, letting Dave deal with the other police officer. You crouch down beside the body pulling the sheet back so you can see the body, your face falling as you see what the Unsub has done to the victim. His face had begun to be cut into before, it looks like he tore into it with his fingers. Scratches all over his face, his eyes seeming to look as if they have been dug into, trying to be pulled out. 

“Well if this isn’t his main target then I would say he is getting close to it, he's beginning to devolve here” Speaking slowly as you study the unsub kill pattern, comparing it in your head to the previous victims.

“Jesus, he did a number on this guy alright” Morgan sighs, looking around the alleyway. “Its really exclude around here isn't it, no one would have seen or heard anything” 

“Yeah, it's the same as the last few crime scenes, and I bet just like the last crime scenes, there are no cameras until two buildings down” Smirking at little as you spot something around the victims mouth. “Hey Morgan look at this” You bring your gloved hand to the victim's mouth that's slightly open finding some blood on his tooth. “Reckon he managed to bite our unsub?”

“Oh yes he did, that is great” Morgan grins at you glancing up as Dave approaches. “Hey Rossi we think we have some of the Unsub DNA” Morgan informs him.

“Good, because there are no cameras and no witness the person that found him was walking a dog who went nuts when they tried to walk past” Dave huffs, looking down at the body.

“Not surprised” Sighing slightly as you look at Dave, your mind no longer on the unsub but rather on the man in front of you. The man you haven't seen in almost eight years, the man you have oh so many questions for.

~~~

As the three of you start walking back to the SUV, letting the crime scene unit clean the area up. You slow down, letting Morgan take the lead once you all reach the SUV, you grab Dave's arm, stopping him from getting in.

“One moment David” Your voice comes out harsh, pushing through the hesitant building inside you. Knowing it's now or exploding in front of his team later on. Morgan glances at you two curiously, before quickly climbing into the SUV, wanting to give you two privacy. You let go of Daves arm, feeling him tense under your touch. He turns around slowly refusing to look you in the eyes.

“You need to cut it out David. If you don’t want your team to know what the hell happened between us, then you need to get your act together” You can’t help but snap at him, the hurt from years ago coming crashing back to you.

“How do you know that they already don’t know?” He questions you with no bite, which just confirms that you're right.

“Because I know you Dave, or at least I thought I did” Crossing your arms over your chest defensively, taking a deep breath. “Look, what happened, happened years ago I’m over it and so are you so why don’t we just get our shit together, for the case, we don’t want your precious team to know what's going on with you” Your words are short, breathing heavily doing your best to keep your anger at bay.

“You're not over it… neither am I” Dave speaks quietly, looking into your eyes, his eyes full of vulnerability. 

“Yeah well, we should be” You can’t look at him anymore, everything rushing back to you.

“We don’t have to be..” Dave's words are soft, knowing everything that has happened between you two hasn’t been easy.

“Let's go Dave” You turn away from him, moving quickly when you see his hand move towards you to stop you. You make your way to the drivers side getting in quickly, the drive back to the precinct is quiet, the tension doubling, Morgan knows to stay silent this time.

~~~

You go straight to your office when the three of you get back to the precinct. Closing your office door with a bit too much force, the bang echoing around the empty building. Dave trails in after Morgan, flinching slightly at the bang of your door, walking in quietly behind Morgan. Dave allows the younger man to take over informing the team of what they have found, as he takes a seat at the end of the table, not meaning to zone so far out as he does. The team couldn’t help but notice that Rossi isn’t throwing out any ideas during the briefing and Hotch can’t help but narrow his eyes at him. Worry coursing through him when he takes in his friends zone out look, noticing the fear and guilt flooding through his eyes. Knowing Dave is too far out of it to be any help nor hide his emotions and definitely wouldn’t like a team of profilers trying to get any information out of him, he decided maybe it's time to end things for the night.

“Alright everyone, go back to the hotel to get some rest. I want everyone back here first thing in the morning” Hotch orders them, watching them all sigh out in relief, getting up grabbing their to-go bags and heading down to the SUV. The only one not to move is Dave, Hotch decides he's going to give him a moment before making him go back to the hotel with him. Hotch makes his way over to your office, knocking softly when he sees that you're sitting at your desk staring at the wall with the same look on your face as Dave.

“Come in” You call out, clearing your throat sitting up straightly, watching as Hotchner walks in.

“Hotch, what can I do you for?” Giving him a forceful smile, your mind feeling a million miles away.

“I just wanted to let you know, I’ve sent my team away for the night, we will be back first thing in the morning, but so far tonight we have no new leads” Hotch updates you, his eyes scanning over you, profiling you.

“Alright, thank you, I’ll be here when your team arrives in the morning, have a goodnight Hotch” You give him a small nod, just doing your best to get him out of your office. Needing to go home so you can figure out how the hell you're going to deal with tomorrow. Hotch stares at you for a few seconds before bidding you goodnight and making his way back to Dave. Who still has’t move the only thing that has changed, is a stray tear sliding down his cheek.

“Oh Dave”

~~~

Aaron makes his way over to him, laying his hand gently on his friend's shoulder, worry spreading through his mind as he watches Dave jump from his touch. Dave's eyes shot up at him in shock, almost like he forgot where he was for a second. Aaron watches as Dave shoves his emotions far down, still not realising a tear had escaped down his face.

“Jesus Aaron, you can’t just sneak up on me like that” Dave huffs out, doing his best to try and pretend he's fine, even when he can feel his heart breaking apart. 

“Sneaking up on you would have to mean I wasn’t trying to speak to you since I walked in the door after sending the team back to the hotel five minutes ago Dave” Aaron sighs softly. “Come on, lets go” Hotch grabs his bag along with a few files, glances back at Dave seeing him doing the same, being oddly quiet for him. They make it out to the car, Hotch getting in the driver's side. They drive in silence for a while, Hotch glancing at Dave worriedly throughout the drive.

“So who is he?” Aaron speaks gently, not wanting to startle Dave, knowing how easily startled he can be when he's like this.

“Aaron..” Dave sighs out his name, staring out the window. The rain falling reminds him of the cosy nights cuddled up in front of the fireplace.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but if you do” Aaron locks eyes with Dave, giving him the opportunity to tell him anything. Aaron's eyes soon go back on the road, silence filling the vehicle once more. Aaron thinks he’s not going to mention anything else as they make their way to the hotel.

“(Y/n) was my first love” Dave's words hang in the air for a few seconds. The sadness, heartbreak, chilling in the words spoken, the fear plain on his face. 

“What happened?” Aaron pulls up, looking at him with soft eyes, knowing that this story doesn’t have a happily ever after ending.

“We..” Dave opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know where to even begin. Where did it even start to go wrong with the two of you? It’s always felt like your relationship has been cursed since the beginning.

~~~

That night you go home, long after everyone else already has. You skip dinner for the night pouring yourself a scotch instead as you get ready for bed. Sitting down on the side of the bed, placing your glass down which directs your eyes to the small wooden box that sits on the edge of your bedside table. Slowly you reach for it, taking a deep breath as your fingers trace the word engraved on the front just above the lock. Emotions swirl inside you as you trace ‘Angel’. Memories from the past 40 years are starting to come to the surface. Opening the box with care, picking up the pile of photos that have a layer of dust on them, having not been open in such a long time. You remove the top pile, moving them to the bottom, knowing the most recent photos of the years you spent with him would just kill you. So instead you look through the photos that hold the memories of you and Dave’s first date. A small study date down at the lake that was only 20 minutes from your home. You were 15 the day that everything changed, the day you both knew you two would have to hide how you felt for ever. You didn’t even know there were tears brewing until you saw them dropping on the photos as you flick through them. Stopping on the one from your last date with him, it was your one year anniversary, you were now 16 and he was preparing to leave school. That day, people found out about you two and you were lucky to get away from school alive that day. That was when you knew you two could never be anything more than just friends.

~~~

A few more tears drop down as you get past the photos of you at war. Remembering how you got to spend a couple special nights with Dave before it all went down hill. You two somehow managed to get put on the same base for a week, but then he was injured and was honourably discharged. That was the last time you saw him for almost two years, two years of hell. As soon as you were out, you went to find him and luckily he was easy to find with a few calls. Just when you did, everything went downhill again. He was about to get married and his fiancee was pregnant. He had moved on, but you just couldn’t do it as easily as he could. You still stayed in touch with him, still stayed his best friend. But the pain became too much so you left and found your own life in due time. 

~~~

The photos go back into the wooded box after somehow one of the more recent photos appears in the pile. The photo of you and Dave from 15 years ago, when you two finally managed to go on a date in public comes to light. The box closes with a snap, the emotions ready to boil out as you skull the rest of the scotch before getting up for another drink. Knowing tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day. Sighing softly as you finally get into bed that night, one final look at the box.

“I'm so sorry my angel I do wish things were different” A tear slides down as you allow some memories to consume you for the night.

~~~

The next morning, you're already in your office when Hotch and Rossi arrive. Sparing a quick look at them as they walk past, you're thankful you were on the phone when he walked past. Not realising how much just one glance at him would affect you this morning. One look at him and the feelings you shoved so far down eight years ago start to stir. God damn, why does he have to look so good in the morning.

After a few moments the rest of his team start to arrive so you make your way from your office to the room you gave them. Your eyes are unable to move from Rossi that is until he glances at you then suddenly it's like you can’t even acknowledge him as you walk in.

“Morning Detective” Hotch gives you a small smile, spotting from the corner of his eyes as Rossi makes his way to the other side of the room away from you.

“Morning, I just got a phone call from the morgue saying they're ready for us” You inform him. Ignoring the way Rossi moves from you, or the way the younger team members give each other some interesting looks.

“Great, why don’t you take Morgan and Reid” Hotch glances at the two younger men, who nod in response quickly grabbing some of their gear.

“Thank you” Your eyes glance over at Dave, who is staring at the board in front of him. But by the way he plays with his fingers and the relieved smile creeping on to his face, you know he's not really looking at the board.

~~~

The trip to the morgue is informative, the unsub died the same way as the others, but he did have more fight in him and did indeed manage to get the unsub DNA. It's now being out through all the systems and so far has no hits. Now you three are making your way back to the precinct, the sun has been shining all morning, so you pull your jacket off before getting in the SUV. Morgan sat in the passenger seat beside you while Reid hopped in the back, and continued to talk about the significance of the drugs the unsub used. Morgan's eyes couldn;t help but be dragged to your arms that's where now exposed, mainly he’s focusing on the tattoo you have. Angel wings with flames on the edges, in the middle of the two wings was the word ‘Amore, 2005’ and above the word and wings sat a pair of devil ears. 

“Sorry but (Y/L) that is an interesting tattoo you got there” Morgan's voice puts a stop to the kids rambling and pulls you from your daydream. 

“Oh my tattoo?” Glancing down to where he was staring, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Everyone tells me they never think I’m a tattoo person, let alone someone to get one like that, but I love it, and it has a small story that goes along with it to” A smile breaks out as you inform him, remembering the day you got it.

“Oh a story huh?” Morgan smiles back, seeing the love swirling in your eyes.

“One that is best told over a good glass of scotch” You chuckle softly. “Maybe if you guys have time before you leave after the case I’ll take your team out for some drinks and tell you.”

“Now I like that idea” Morgan grins at you, before glancing at Reid who has a shocked expression on his face as he stares at the tattoo.

~~~

The day drags on slowly, your back in the conference room with Hotch, JJ and Dave. You can’t seem to concentrate as the dead ends keep piling up, sighing softly as you get up, looking at them all. 

“I think we could all do with some decent coffee, there's a coffee shop down the road, I will be back shortly” You smirk as you see JJ grin up at you.

“That would be great, thank you” 

“Hey, I could do with a break as well” Rossi gets up, which earns a small hidden smirk from Hotch.

“Fine, that's helpfully you can carry them back then” Holding back a groan as you walk out, Dave following you closely staring at you wondering just how he can fix this.

The walk to the coffee shop doesn’t take long, it's silent but it's not uncomfortable. You can’t help but glance at his hand that swings almost too close to yours, remembering the first time you finally got to hold his hand in public. You walk inside without a word, heading up to the counter, opening your mouth ready to order when Dave actually speaks up.

“Good afternoon, can I get one large cappuccino with two extra shots and a shot of vanilla, two large lattes and then just a large cappuccino with an extra shot as well please” He smiles sweetly at the cashier who nods and begins to get them started. Your smile widens accidently as you watch him, he still remembers your coffee order after all this time. Damn it, has his smile always made his face glow like that? 

~~~

After he pays you both go and take a seat, after being informed it might take a while.

“So, I guess you're not avoiding me now?” You smile softly at him, giving him that knowing look. One he never knew he missed so much until he finally sees it again, gosh it's enough to make him melt. Dave has to swallow thickly as he stares at you, he’s blaming the sun for beaming down on you the way it is. It brings out all your beauty, your golden hazel eyes shine brightly, reminding him of when the sun used to shine down on you when you two used to play at the lake, back in the life of two teenages. The wrinkles on your face above the eyes hide the scars you got from one practical afternoon at the lake. 

“I couldn’t avoid you the whole time I’m here” Dave smirks a little, shaking his head trying to clear his mind.

“You know what happened between us, when we last broke up, you know I forgive you for that right?” Taking a deep breath as you bring up the elephant in the room. Dave's shoulders tense up, the pain flickering through his eyes once more.

“I wish I never did that.. We could’ve worked through things If I didn’t do that” His words soften, glancing down at the table finding it more interesting suddenly.

“I don’t think we could have… we were both in too much pain.. Moving forward was too hard. You took an out and I don't blame you” Taking a deep breath, refusing to over think what you're about to do next. Knowing it's something you should have done years ago. You reach out to him, wrapping your hand around his, giving it a small squeeze. 

“You should.. I cheated on you after we had just..” His words get stuck in your throat as he looks up at you. His eyes glossing over with tears of his past, knowing he can never undo what he did.

“I know..I wish I could hate you for running off and getting married but I tried for the last ten years to make you the villain in my mind but I can’t do that, our past won’t allow me to do that” You smile weak, gulping as you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Only now realising that you both have leaned in closely while talking, your hands tightening together.

“I could never truly move on from you (Y/n) I don’t think I ever can” Daves voice is now barely audible, but his words make you breath hitches.

“Neither can I” You agree, and without thinking you lean forward steadily and he slowly follows your lead.

“Dave?” The barista shouts out, making you both pull away quickly. Dave jumps up quickly to go collect the coffee, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

~~~

The afternoon moves by slowly and awkwardly. The tension between you and Dave seemed to grow after getting back to the precinct handing off the coffees. The whole team notices the longing looks between you and Dave, the way one of you would move and the others eyes would follow. The afternoon turns to night, everyone is talking when Morgan's phone starts ringing.

“It's Garcia” He informs everyone before answering you and putting it on speaker. “Hey Baby Girl, you’re on speaker, what's ya got?”

“I found him, I got him” Garcia gets straight to the point, forcing everyone to jump to their feet. 

“Who is it Garcia?” Hotch questions.

“Fred Smith, I use the DNA to find him and he fits the profile to a T, like if there is an unsub shape mould type thing he is it” She bumbles on. “He got out of jail a month before the murders began, just like you said”

“Address babygirl?” Morgan asks, before grabbing his gun.

“He has a warehouse downtown and an apartment, already sent” She grins to herself.

“Thank you baby” Morgan hangs up, turning to his boss. 

“Alright, (Y/L) why don’t you take JJ, Reid and Rossi to his apartment, the rest of us will go to the warehouse” Hotch looks at you, receiving a quick nood before you all race out to the vehicles. 

~~~

All four of you enter his apartment, carefully, splitting up, making sure it's clear. Regathering in the living room, eyes widening as you look around. The drawings all over his desk, pictures of the dead bodies pinned to the wall with knives. 

“Well this will be an easy conviction at least” You're the first to speak, staring at the pictures and drawings with interest. 

“Yes it will be” Dave walks up to stand behind you, his breath lingering on your neck. Your breath gets stuck in your throat as he moves to come to stand beside you. Standing so close, the warmth is radiating off his body, making the nerves swish rapidly in your stomach. Take a breath before you start looking through the room, feeling his eyes burning a hole into you. Dave couldn’t tear his eyes off you right now, not when everything he wants to say is on the top of his tongue, if the two other agents weren’t with them he doesn’t think he could stop himself right now. 

“Hey Dave, come look at this” You call out to him, your eyes solely focused on a ripped up paper that has fallen onto the floor.

“What is it?” Dave asks before getting down onto his knees beside you, his eyes narrowing on the paper as you pick it up. 

“A list of company names, a victim from each company, that smart kid of yours was right” Smirking as you read through the list of names.

“He still has six names left on his list” Dave sighs, taking the paper off you, reading through it as you climb to your own feet. You have to press your lips tightly together to stop a small chuckle from escaping as you look down at Dave on his knees, a smirk forming on your lips instead, a light playing in your eyes.

“What’s that look for?” Dave questions you, his eyes frowning as he looks up at you. That cute confused look on his face is something you have missed.

“Just forgot how good you look when you're down on your knees like that” Chuckling softly as your eyes slide down his body, you know that's a dangour game to play, but a part of you just doesn’t care, a part of you even craves the danger. 

“That doesn’t seem like a work place appropriate” Dave fights back the smile, the blood rushing to his face. The hint of redness with his shy smile, makes you laugh softly as you help him off the floor.

“Sorry, you know I love to tease you” Licking your lips softly realising your hands are still together. “Especially when you're down on your knees like that” Winking at him pulling your hand away as you watch his eyes widen, the small blush on his face turning on to full speed. 

“Okay guys, Hotch just called, they—” JJ announces walking into the room with Reid, coming to an immediate stop, her eyes flickering between the two older men. The tension seemed to have lessened, but they can’t help but notice the red face of Rossi and the smirking cocky look resting on your face.

“What does Aaron have?” Dave asks them, pulling himself together quickly.

“They caught him, he was down the road from the warehouse about to grab another victim” JJ informs them, glancing at Rossi concerned.

“Good, easy case to wrap up then” Smiling at Dave weakley, knowing that once he gets on the jet then that's it. 

“Yeah, good” Dave avoids your eyes as he makes his way out.

~~~

You help the team finish off their paperwork so they can make an easy exit from this town. Hotch, Emily, and Dave are still in with Fred trying to get him to confess to all the murders. 

“Hey, any luck?” Morgan looks up as the three agents make their way in.

“Confessed to all the murders” Emily grins, places down the case files.

“Oh good, by the way the jet won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon, apparently there's a few issues and it has a couple tests to run first” JJ sighs informing them all.

“Wait, does that mean sleep in?” Emily smiles looking up hopeful, everyone's gaze turns to the boss.

“Well I mean we don’t have to be out of the hotel until 10, so sure sleep in” Hotch smile lightly at them before turning back to board, taking everything down as they cheer quietly. You notice Dave walking over to the window, frowning a little at how distracted he looks, you head over to him.

“Hey you” Smiling faintly as you stand beside him. 

“Hey” He stares out the window, his mind a thousand miles away.

“What's going on in there?” Sighing as you stare at him, the look on his face is one you have seen too many times and it's almost always a sign of concern.

“It's not important” He dismisses you quickly, sighing as he glances at you, a look in his eyes you just can’t identify.

“It is, if you don’t want to tell me right now, then why don’t we get drinks tonight” Placing a hand softly on his arm, a smile forcing its way on to his face.

“Yo drinks tonight, we’re in” Morgan intreputes you, him and Prentiss standing oddly close by. Holding back a few curse words at the younger man, you smile fakely.

“Perfect, I’ll take you all out tonight, first rounds on me” Laughing silently as the younger agents all cheer in delight.

~~~

One round turns to many, stories are told, laughter fills the table. You and Dave somehow sit across each other, eyes catching each other occasionally making smiles grow. You two haven’t had a calm conversation yet alone a moment like this in over 10 years now, it's nice. 

“It's why I’m extremely careful climbing rocks now” Laughing as you tell them a brief story of how you got the scar above your eye, leaving out a certain person in that story.

“Okay so (Y/L), you said you would tell me about your tattoos?” Morgan smiles interestedly at you.

“Oh right my tattoo” Smiling sadly as you pick up your glass of scotch, sipping on it thinking back.

“You don’t have to” Dave looks at you, his eyes soft knowing what your tattoo represents.

“It's okay Dave, it's no longer a sad reason” Smiling reassuringly at him, knowing that the memories behind the tattoo affects you both. 

“Wait, Rossi, you already know about his tattoo, I thought you two only worked together once?” Morgan smirks lightly, glances at Prentiss.

“Yeah Rossi, you two seem to know alot about each other for only one case together, what did you say twenty years ago?” Emily joins Morgan in the teasing, wanting to know the history between the two men.

“It is strange that you two have quite similar tattoos as well” Reid pipes up.

“Wait tattoos, Rossi I didn’t know you have any tattoos?” JJ looks over at Rossi a little confused.

“We uh, we kept in touch after the case” You clear your throat, feeling caught off with everyone's questioning. Rossi's eyes stare into yours but it almost seems like he’s getting lost inside his own mind, wondering what he should be telling his team.

“My tattoos tell a story about those I love and lost” Rossi finally drags his eyes away from yours looking back at the rest of his team.

“Can we see your tattoos, Rossi?” Emily looks at him hopeful.

“Okay fine, only because I know that look on your face Prentiss, you won’t leave it alone otherwise” Rolling his eyes at them, the team erupted in laughter at the slightly offended look on Emily's face. Rossi gets up, pulling his jacket off before unbuttoning the first top buttons of his shirt, turning around as he pulls the collar of his shirt down, revealing his right shoulder blade. Four names are spread across the area, each with a date. The oldest one, dates back to 1976, the name Amore printed above it. Next was James, 1978, above his name was a rose connecting his name to Carolyn, 2012. Then comes the name you weren’t ready for, Angel 2005.

“Carylon passed away?” Your voice is weak as you think back to their wedding, one of the hardest days of your life. 

“Yes, last year” Dave smiles sadly at you, buttoning up his shirt again. 

“Can we ask who Amore is?” Reid asks quietly, the whole table going quiet.

“Amore, was the love of my life” Dave takes a deep breath as he looks into your eyes. 

“What happened to her?” JJ asks gently, watching the emotions swirl across Dave's face.

“He supposedly died in the war” Dave's voice shakes, the tears swelling in his eyes. “But then, almost two years later he knocks on my door” 

“He?” Morgan smiles softly at Dave, everyone going quiet, giving him his time.

~~~

“We met in high school, back then boys weren’t allowed to date each other, you all know how it was” Rossi starts speaking, now refusing to look at you as he tells your story. “We never meant to fall in love, he was a year below me but needed help with some class work, my teacher asked me to help him out so I did, an we formed this friendship” As Dave speaks, your mind travels back to those days, the memorise of your first study lesson in the library. How the first two study lessons were quiet and awkward, not unable to understand the way he would teach you. The day after the third lesson you went to your favourite place in town before going home, the lake. It was always so peaceful and quiet, barely anyone knew about the part you would go to, giving you the perfect hiding space you always craved. Apart from that afternoon, when you're sitting on the rocks just above the lake, doing some sketching of the trees opposite you. You hear a noise, footsteps and a strange sound you can’t identify straight away. The longer you concentrate on it, the louder it gets and when suddenly there's a flashlight you're finally able to figure it out, a camera. 

“Well, well well what do we have?” His soft laughter catches you off guard, turning to the side where the bright light came from.

Cut it out David, seriously?” Huffing annoyed at him, blinking rapidly trying to get rid of that flashlight outta your eyes. 

“Oh just relax, (Y/n)” David smiles cheekily at you as he climbs the rocks, sitting down beside you. “What are you drawing?” He asks, looking down.

“Just trees” Shrugging as you show him. “It's just a rough draft for now”

“It's beautiful, do you draw often?” Dave questions him, looking up at his face, enjoying the peaceful concentration across his face. It's a nice change from the frustrated look he normally has on his face when stuck in the library. 

“Most days” Nodding at Dave, a smile pulling at his lips.

“So, do you come here for the quiet, so you can draw in peace?”

“I do” Glancing over at him, your eyes mainly focusing on his smile, which brings a small one of your own out. 

“Oh, then I will leave you to it” Dave goes to get up, feeling bad for intruding on your space.

“No, don't go” Your hand grabbing his hand quickly, stopping him. “I originally came here to do some homework today, but I still couldn't understand it. Can you help me?” Your voice is soft and desperate as you ask him, there's no part of him that could deny you. Especially with your hand holding his like that.

~~~

“People found out about us” Dave's voice pulls you back to the present, sipping on your drink as you figure out where he's up to. “We hid our relationship for almost a year, but when rumours started to spread we had to end it so we could keep ourselves safe, it wasn’t good but we did our best” Dave takes a sip on his drink, ignoring the looks his team's all share. “I only had six months left at the school, when I left we started dating again thinking it would be safe, that summer was one of the best” His eyes flick to you, sharing a small smile at the memories flashing through both of your minds.

“Anyway, I ended up going to war near the beginning of the year, and after about eight months or so. Well when I got to base camp, he was somehow there” Dave can not stop the smile that spreads across his face as he thinks about the day. “He had gotten himself kicked out of school earlier that year due to misbehaviour and his parents made him join the military” 

“Huh, sounds like you had yourself a rebel boy there Rossi” Morgan jokes lightly, earning a rough laugh from the older man. 

“Oh you can say that again Morgan” Rossi smirks, knowing just how much trouble you two used to cause.

“Well during our time deployed, I managed to go home a few months before him, we had discussed moving to D.C and living our life there, so I moved there with the idea he would join me when he got out” Daves voice becomes shaky along with his hand, having to set his glass down before he drops it. Your heart breaks as you watch him, never getting to see him open up about your death.

“I was there for three months, and the day before he was supposed to arrive I got a phone call from his brother, letting me know there had been an accident and he didn’t make it” You have to tear your eyes off him, feeling some eyes staring at you along with Rossi. 

“I couldn’t believe it, but I knew I had to move on, so I continued my life in D.C, after awhile i meet Caroyln and we started dating, she becoming pregnant and we were going to get married, two days before we got married there was a knock on my door, and it was him” Rossi takes a deep breath.

“Sorry I need a drink” You quickly excuse yourself, heading to the bar needing to get away from those memories. The moment that lady opened the door of your lover's house, the moment you knew it was over.

~~~

You stand by the bar for a few minutes nursing your drink, trying to pull yourself back together before you walk back over there. A soft hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, pulling you away from the thoughts floating through your mind. You don’t need to look up to see who it is, leaning back into his touch.

“Sorry I just needed a minute” Sighing softly, his hand rubs your back slowly. 

“That's okay, It’s not easy to talk about, but I thought It was time I finally told my family about you” You could hear his smile pushing through his words. Family. Him telling his family about you always seemed out of the question, something you both would have to learn to live without. But, when he said those words, something seems to be fluttering in your chest, you're just not sure if it's feelings resurfacing or just plain old anxiety. 

“You have a great family now Dave” You sip on your drink, trying to figure out how you're feeling.

“That I do, one who would like to hear more of our story, if you're up to it?” Dave wraps his arm fully around your waist.

“Only the good parts” Smiling more as you lean into his touch, forgetting how safe he always feels. 

“Only the good parts” He chuckles softly in agreement as he leads you back towards the table. 

~~~

The seating around the table has slightly changed, JJ has gotten up and has now moved to sit beside Emily. Allowing you both to sit beside each other, even if you two haven’t said it yet, everyone around you has figured you two out.

“So um, can we get to know more of the story please?” JJ asks softly after a few moments of silence. 

“Of course” You answer them with a smile, shocking them slightly with that small confirmation. 

“So during me and Carylorn's marriage, we still stayed in contact, well we tried to but life got it the way” Daves voice trails off as he thinks back to that time he called you for the first time in 6 months because he needed you after James died. You drove 18 hours that day to get to him, only stopping for gas. You didn’t care about anything else except being there for him, the pain he was going through wasn’t fair. 

“We kept in contact when we could, we both moved on. I started dating again and Dave just kept getting divorced” Laughing softly, nudging him gently earning your favourite David Rossi eye roll as the rest of the group just laughs at you two, sharing looks with each other.

“Anyway we did our best to stay in contact, but soon a couple years went by and then we ran into each other during a case in New york” Rossi continues the story, Morgan's head shoots up at the mention of New York again.

“What happened in New York” Morgan asks, doing his best to hold the desperate for the answer, back from his voice.

“We ended up having to work together and things I tried to hide from him for a while seem to come to light” Taking a quick breath as those memories start to rise, Dave notices your body tensing, seeing the fire and past swirling around in your eyes, he slides his hand off the table, taking your hand in his.

“I won’t go into details, but Dave figured out I was in a toxic, borderline abusive relationship—”

“It was not borderline, but continue” Dave interrupted you with a soft smile causing you to chuckle softly, looking at him. Which is a mistake because as soon as you looked into his eyes again, all the memories were playing in them, the love you had for him comes racing back, and it's almost like you're stuck while you stare into his beautiful brown honey like eyes. It takes all your strength to pull away from his eyes looking back over his team, squeezing Dave's hand as you do.

“Anyway, Dave helped get me out of that relationship and even supported me when I asked for a transfer to San Francisco, I got a position for captain” Smiling softly as the table all looked mildly impressed. 

“He moved to San Francisco and after a while I got moved to Paris so we once again lost touch” Dave sips his drink as he thinks back, jumping over a few years. He hated the fact he went to Paris, instead of staying in the states where he could be closer to you, he loved you and he was ready to try again but you needed time to heal and life started moving forward and neither of you could stay in the past anymore. 

“I got married to Hayden, but It didn’t work out and I was being reassigned back to the states anyway, I went back to the BAU for a few years before I decided to retire” Dave continues, ignoring the looks his team has been sharing with each other throughout the story.

~~~

“So what happened after you retired, did you two decide to try again?” It was Emily that spoke up this time, everyone knows there is a big part of the story you two are leaving out.

“Not at first, I went travelling and focused on my books for the first couple years, but we stayed in contacted, caught up when we could” Dave smiles as he thinks back to those more happy days, when it was more like catching up with a best friend, who your completely and utterly in love with. 

“One day we caught up and things changed that night, we decided to try again, it was the mid 90’s it was a bit more acceptable then, still not completely safe but we did our best” Leaning back into your chair as you sip on your drink.

“It was the best few years of my life” Dave admits, looking over at you, his eyes once more full of guilt and pain due to the way things ended. 

“Mine too.. But we should have known it wouldn’t have lasted” Taking a sharp breath as you pull your hand out of his, looking away from him, missing the broken look that broke across his face, as you do your best to hide yours. 

“Are we allowed to know why you two broke up?” Morgan asks gently, glancing between them, ignoring the look Hotch is sending him. 

“We broke up due to a few issues, our kid was taken away from us and it caused a lot of problems between us” Your words float out of you like air, the pain and fear floating into your voice. At the sound of the pain in your words all Dave wants to do is lay his hand on your thigh, letting you know that he’s right here, but he knows he can’t do that anymore. 

“Your child?” JJ asks, unable to hide the pain flashing through her eyes, she couldn’t imagine losing Henry.

“Yes, our child, Angel” Dave speaks up, his voice aching as he mentions his name, a part of him he never thought his team would ever know about. Your other hand traces over your tattoo, tracing the angel wings slowly.

“He was my little sister, but she hit hard times and couldn’t raise him anymore, so she asked us to take him in, he was only two when we did, he was a little bundle of joy” Your voice moves from painful to light and happier as you speak. 

“We raised him for 4 years, until people around us decided that two older men had no right raising a kid together” Dave's voice is full of hatred and anger as he lets himself float back to those moments. Without thinking you lay your hand on his lap, rubbing softly to get him to calm down. 

“They took him from us, my job ended up in danger and I ended up disowning my family because of it” Your voice is full of venom, but Dave places his hand on top of yours, almost instantly you lean into him for comfort before stopping yourself.

“Oh my god, that's terrible I'm so sorry” JJ apologies, her heart breaking at the story, everyone goes silent, not at all surprised they couldn’t stay together through all of that.

“My sister managed to get custody of Angel again almost two years after it all, so I could still visit him, Dave unfountuly was no longer around as he had moved away” You skip over the main reason why he left, not needing to revisit that pain. “2005 was the year Angel and my sister unfortunately passed away in a car crash” Your voice breaks as you give them that detail, Dave inhaling sharply as his heart breaks at the memory of receiving that phone call. 

“Oh man, I'm sorry that's rough” Morgan looks at you with empathy, everyone glancing between you and Dave, the chemistry still obvious to everyone but you two.

“It's okay, life happens and at least those two are now together forever” Letting out a soft breath as you sip on your drink.

“Do you have any photos of Angel?” Hotch asks, whos been silent for the night, having already knew most of this information from Rossi's confession. 

“I sure do” Smiling more as you grab your wallet, pulling out the small pile of photos you have in there. Passing it to Aaron who's sitting on your other side, his face lights up as he looks through them, passing them around the table.

While everyone is distracted looking at the photos, Dave leans in closer to you, worried about how you're handling everything.

“Are you okay?” He keeps his voice low as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat when your eyes meet him, your eyes filled with nothing but love as you look down at him.

“I'm good, are you?” You don’t want him to move away, you don’t want him to pull his hand away, missing his physical touch. 

“I’m great, I’m glad they know about you” His eyes burn into yours, already feeling guilty about having to leave tomorrow.

“So am I” Smiling softly, your eyes glancing down at his lips, before your mind can wander you’re called back to the present.

“Dave is that you?” Emily smiles widely as she shows the photo she's holding. Morgan and Reid looking over the girl's shoulder, all looking up at Dave with smiles filled with love.

The photo they're looking at, is one of your favourites, that’s your reasoning as to why you still have a photo of your ex in your wallet. The photo is Dave pushing Angel on the swings, Angel's smile is huge but almost nothing compared to the excitement and love present in Dave's eyes. You love that photo for so many reasons, your boys look adobe and the memory from the day makes you smile even when you're drowning in sadness.

“You still have that photo?” Dave smiles at you, having to hold back the urge to kiss you.

“It was a special day, no way could I lose that photo” Smiling back at him, hating yourself for not giving into your urges and lean into his touches. “I have more at home, all kept safe”

“Good” 

The team all sits in silence, giving each other looks as they watch the looks you two are giving each other, yet you two don’t seem to know how much you both need each other. 

~~~

You excuse yourself to go outside, needing some fresh air. You stand outside leaning against the wall as you finish your smoke, your mind staying on Dave.

“Hey I didn’t realise you smoke” Morgan's voice pulls you from your thoughts, glancing over at him as you take it out. 

“Old habit I guess” Looking up at him with a small smile.

“Fair enough” Morgan smiles, before taking a breath. “You and Rossi really do have one hell of a past, you two kept that quiet”

“We try not to let it affect our job” Forcing a small smile, not knowing exactly where he is taking this.

“I respect that, but here's something I disagree with” Morgan starts.

Your eyes narrow as you watch him, preparing yourself for some homophobic speech you’ve heard oh so many times.

“Which is what?”

“The fact that it's in the past, I see the way you look at him, you still love him and he clearly loves you” Morgan smiles softly, watching as the defensiveness rolls off you, replacing itself with a far away look.

“I may love him but that doesn’t mean it's enough” You’ve always loved Dave, but the past has shown you that keeping you two together isn’t a walk in the park, it's not even a run through a forest at points. 

“But it could be now, come on what could happen if you two try again huh?” Morgan sees the heartbreak in your eyes. “This world is now different and so are you and Dave, you could fear trying and failing again, or you could embrace this chance that's right in front of you two and just go for it” Morgan watches you as he speaks, walking off to leave you thinking about his words.

~~~

When you reenter the building, your eyes first land on Dave, who's at the bar talking with Aaron. You look back over at the table where everyone is standing up, grabbing their phones and wallets. Your heart starts to drop as you realise it's over, no more time to talk to Dave as everyone starts to leave. You head over to the table, saying your goodbys quickly to the team as they make their way out. Aaron and Dave walk over as they see the team leave, Aaron bids you goodbye as he follows his team out, Dave looks at you with a soft smile on his face.

“One more drink?” He asks, pushing through his fear of you saying no.

“Only if it's your shout Dave” Chuckling softly, biting your lip as his eyes light up.

“Oh of course” He chuckles before walking to the bar. You take a seat at the table, your eyes staying fixated on him. Your eyes stay on him as your mind go over Morgans words, ‘Embrace this chance that's right in front of you’ 

Dave makes his way back over to you, sitting beside you, sliding your drink over.

“Thanks” Smiling up at him, knowing it's now or never.

“Anytime” He smirks, looking you over. “I hope it was okay, telling my team our story”

“It was fine Dave” Your name feels like home as it slides off your lips. “But I do have a problem” Sighing slightly, as you look away from him, missing the way his face falls.

“What is it?” Dave ask, his voice full of care and love as he leans over, taking your hand in his. 

“I don’t like the way our story ends” Glancing at your hands, before looking into his. Your eyes are full of hope as you keep talking. “I think it should continue, maybe one more time?” Gulping thickly as you watch him, waiting for a response. His smile grows, love and hope filling his face, 

“I would love that” 

“Good” Grinning more, squeezing his hand, as your other one cups his face, pulling him into a kiss. He is quick to respond, leaning into your touch and kissing back lovingly. 

~~~

The next day, Morgan and Emily are the last to enter the Jet, running late due to shopping. Morgan's eyes scan over the jet, not seeing Rossi as they all settle down.

“Um, where's Rossi? Morgan asks Hotch, everyone eyes glance over at Hotch all of them having hopeful looks in their eyes.

“Oh he’s staying for a few extra days” Hotch smirks back at them all. Everyone's heart fills with happiness as they can figure out what had happened last night after they left.

#criminal minds #david rossi #dave rossi #david rossi x reader #dave rossi x reader #david rossi x male!reader #dave rossi x male!reader #bi dave rossi

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 6 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

TW: Some SMUT (HUZZAH! finally! but it's not what you think, sorry 😇). Anita. Angst. Grief. Temper tantrums/angry E. Some small/little/subby!e & caretaker!Lori. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact   ||      Word Count: 10.9k

A/N: Lord have freakin' mercy, I'm sorry this took so damn long, but the next chapter is FINALLY HERE! For a variety of reasons, this was a doozy for me to get through, so thanks for your patience. ❤️ It's a bit of a rollercoaster of ALL THE THINGS. You want some smut, it's there! Tropes? You got it! Every emotion under the sun? Yep! It is messy? In more ways than one...😏 You've been warned. (And let me know what you think!!)

And thank you SO MUCH for the encouraging comments and support coming in about this work. I was really afraid no one was interested in this one because it's such a slow burn, but y'all are giving it some love and that makes my heart sing! ❤️ Thank you for continuing to reblog, like, comment, and ask! FYI the taglist is being WEIRD and I don't know why so I'm sorry if you don't get tagged and should be!!

Feel free to visit my Wattpad or AO3, if you prefer those reading experiences! xoxoxo

He can’t stop thinking about you.

It’s annoying, really, considering all he’s got to focus on right now. Smiling for the crowds. Getting home. Interviews and pictures. Staying upright. Breathing.

Elvis closes his eyes and immediately thinks about the way your fingers splayed through his hair.

Stop it.

Your thumb catching his lower lip.

This isn’t the time.

Oh, it most certainly is not. He’s finally a stone’s throw from home, working his way through the waiting crowd at the train station, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing and his breath short.

Your hand presses his lower back, urging him forward.

He swears you have some sort of sixth sense in regard to how he’s feeling, or maybe you are really just that good at your job. Unfortunately, all he can think about is the warmth of your body pressed against him and the cool touch of your soft lips on his.

More than likely, you are just a distraction from how emotional he’s feeling. Being back in Memphis, as unusually cold and snowy as it happens to be, has him some kind of way. Perhaps it is the presence of his hometown fans. Maybe it’s the kindness of Gary Pepper, the young man with cerebral palsy that heads one of his fan clubs, when he says that he’s sorry there aren’t more people to greet him—"It’s a school day, after all.”

Biting his lip, Elvis fears he’s noticeably choked up at that. “I’ll see ya later, pal,” he manages to get out and makes note to find some way to thank the man properly in the future. It’s a testament to people like Gary that he still has fans at all after being away for two years. None of this was promised, neither is it continued to be.

Elvis wonders if he deserves it.

As overwhelmed by the crowds as you’ve been so far, it shocks him when you break ranks to kneel down and introduce yourself to Gary. There is a caring kindness about you in that moment that threatens to break his heart and he’s not sure exactly why. It strikes him that it’s because you have been so walled off behind that tower you’ve built around yourself and for the second time in the last 24 hours, he’s gotten a glimpse of who you might truly be on the other side of it.

And he has the strangest feeling that he is the prodigal prince returning home from a far-off land, with you, his new princess, already tending to his subjects as if they were her own.

A shuddering breath rolls through him at that.

Once again, you notice, shooting him a veiled look of concern. Saying your goodbyes to Gary, you grab Elvis’ hand and press along. You squeeze and he feels like crying all over again.

Get it together, Presley.

He breathes and continues forward, smiling away the feelings that threaten to consume him whole. Bright and cheerful, he plasters a grin across his face as they finally make it to Captain Woodward’s police cruiser. Your hand releases his and he suddenly loathes the fact that he’s pushed into the front seat (Better for the pictures, son, he hears the Colonel say).

But he keeps smiling and waving as they pull away. The truth is, he is happy to be home, it’s just clouded by the unease of the last few days and the fact that he might be goddamn dying. Not to mention the part where he’s not exactly sure what his place in the world is now.

And thirty minutes later, when they roar through the iron music gates, his colonial mansion coming into view for the first time in 18 months, his heart pounds.

Home.

It’s just family and close friends now, which has him sighing with relief as he hugs and kisses them all, yet a tension pulls in his chest. He realizes it’s because one very important person is missing.

Elvis had done a valiant job the past year and a half making sure that he stuffed down his grief in all the right moments and only let it out in lonely hours in the middle of the night. He was too damn sensitive for his own good, and God knows there was no room for that in the US Army, not if he wanted to fit in. So, instead he filled his days with maneuvers and his evenings with music and his nights with getting his dick wet, and there wasn’t much time in between to ponder much else.

But now that he’s here, and she most certainly is not, his mama’s absence hits him with the force of a freight train. A sob threatens to escape, his throat closing around it to keep it at bay, and it feels as though the wind is knocked out of him. Every ounce of exhaustion from the last week seems to close in on him all at once, and the only person who could truly soothe him is dead and gone.

The gentle press of your hand against the small of his back has him blinking and turning to you. He almost forgot your presence in the chaos, which he knows is incredibly rude of him because you are in a strange place with strange people, but somehow, once again, you just seem to know he’s not okay.

He needs space. He needs to breathe. He needs to get his shit together because this day is far from over and he’s already spent.

“Y’all, y’all, I need a minute to get ready for the onslaught of reporters that are on their way. We’ll pick this up tonight!” he shares loudly.  “Lemme give you the grand tour,” he then whispers to you, taking your hand and yanking you past the white columns and into the house.

The smell hits him first. It’s familiar, yet there is something stale about it. Truth be told, he hadn’t lived here long before he was drafted, but it’s the house that called to him, the one meant for his mama. And now that he’s back, he feels certain she’ll reappear the moment he opens a door or rounds a corner.

Your eyes grow wider with every room as he pulls you through hallways and up and down stairs. His speech is as rapid as his tour, and he doesn’t fully stop until he’s in front of his mother’s room, the one he requested remain untouched until he got home. But now that he’s faced with it, he cannot open the door. He falls into a paralyzed silence.

“Elvis?” you ask quietly. “Are you alright?”

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Um, I...this is—was—my mother’s room.”

You pause, then nod. “I know it’s little more than words, but I am so sorry,” you say, squeezing his hand. It prompts him to look at you, and he finds your gaze knowingly, openly solemn. The look of someone who understands loss.

He does little more than tilt his head at you in question, and you sigh deeply in response, as if gathering strength. He knows that sigh, too.

“My mother died when I was fourteen,” you finally speak, “and she was…my everything.”

Fourteen? Dear God. He thought losing mama at 23 was awful, but he has no idea who he’d even be if she’d been gone at fourteen. The weight of just the thought feels impossible.

“Oh, honey,” Elvis manages to get out and suddenly he understands so much more about you, about those walls you keep around yourself. He wants to weep for you.

You shake your head. “It is what it is,” you say, trying to brush away obvious emotion. “I just want to let you know…I understand, is all.”

“Thank you,” he says, squeezing your hand back.

“Is it the same? Her room, I mean?” you ask suddenly.

He’s surprised by the question but nods.

“That’s nice. I mean…it’s nice that you still have some of her here,” you say in a faraway voice, looking at the closed door.

It’s a strange thing to say, and you seem to realize it the moment it’s out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, that’s…I just…my father got rid of all my mother’s things within days of her passing. I only have a few small things of hers that I managed to steal away before he wiped her existence from our house,” you say so quietly it’s almost a whisper, a lingering bitterness in your tone.

“Little bird…” he starts, but then falters at what to say. His heart aches for you as much as it does for himself, and he feels an anger towards your father that feels awfully similar to the anger at his own when Vernon shacked up with Dee not months after his mother’s death.

A father’s betrayal is no small thing.

It makes more sense to him now why a such a young girl would throw herself into her work and schooling as you have. There’s an inkling of understanding as to why you dropped your entire life on a dime to come work for him when you don’t even care for his music or his fame. But something tells him there’s much more to your story than this tragedy, though by the way you shake your head and shutter off those pesky emotions, he guesses he won’t learn more today.

“What’s next?” you ask, your face now a picture of calm.

“The bedroom,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows to lighten the mood.

Your scoff and eye roll tells him he’s on the right track.

His door is open when they reach the suite, he’s guessing to air it out for his return. He ushers you in quickly, then shuts the door behind him. The plush, dark décor instantly comforts him, the sound proofing of the room shutting out the hustle and bustle downstairs. He can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves his lips.

Suddenly, he can’t get out of his dress uniform fast enough. It’s strangling him. He wrestles out of the jacket, stripping himself of the shirt and tie just as quickly, leaving him in his white undershirt and pants.

“I take it you’re done with the uniform?” you say with a touch of sarcasm and a raise of your brow.

“I’d burn it if I could,” he replies with a snort, “but I gotta wear the damn thing for the Sinatra show in a few weeks.”

You hum and nod. “How are you feeling? Let’s take your vitals,” you say, gesturing to the edge of the bed, and turning round to look for something. You find it in a pile of suitcases left near the door, which must have been brought up while he was giving you the tour.

“Exhausted. Wired,” he answers, flopping on the bed. Oh, how he’s missed his own bed.

“Well, you should get some rest. It’s been a very long few days.” He sits up when you come in close in that serious way you do when it’s time to do your job. His heart begins to race. Faint hints of rose water and jasmine fill his nostrils as you bend down towards him with all your tools in tow. It’s part of the scent that he’s learning is distinctly you and it has him flashing back to holding you close back on the train. When your head leans close to secure the blood pressure cuff, he can almost feel again the way his lips brushed over your skin, how they pressed into your lips…

The thought has him breathless now that he has you in his bedroom.

Elvis shakes the thought away because he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that at all. It was just a rehearsal, a way to get you more comfortable around him, and it had worked. You hadn’t jerked away from him all day and even seemed to tolerate his presence somewhat pleasantly. Or at least without outward distain. He wasn’t about to screw up your progress by having actual feelings towards you. Because that would be ridiculous.

Too bad his body isn’t getting the memo.

“Your pulse and blood pressure are higher than I’d like,” you tsk down at him, “and you seem a little out of breath.”

Case in point.

“You need to rest, Elvis.” You turn away, unknowingly leaving him wanting.

Lord have mercy. He needs to get a grip because right now all he wants is a tussle with you in this big, inviting bed. Instead, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“No time, little bird. Gotta get ready for all those reporters showing up here in…” he checks his watch, “less than two hours.”

“Another press conference? Elvis, the doctor talked about this—you have to slow down. This isn’t good for you,” you bristle, putting your hands on your hips. For whatever reason, he finds it devastatingly cute. A slow grin begins to spread across his face, but he stops himself before it rankles you.

He rises from the bed, stepping into you, drawn to you in some inexplicable way. He resists the deep urge to grab you by the waist and pull you in tight. You’d probably slap him silly if he did.

“I know, honey, I promise I’ll rest after the party tonight.”

Your brow furrows and the defeated look on your face has him chuckling a little. “There’s a party tonight? You can’t possibly be serious.”

“I never joke about parties,” he says, trying to match your serious face, unable to stop himself from grabbing your upper arms.

You look like you are ready to rip into him but then your demeanor changes completely to one of concern.

“Elvis, this isn’t going to work if you don’t make some concessions. There’s only so much I can do for you if you refuse to help yourself,” you say softly, looking up at him with those crystal blue eyes of yours.

He can deal with your annoyance, but the concern in your tone has him shifting uncomfortably.

You’re right, of course you are, but he doesn’t want to think about how shitty he feels or how dramatically he’s going to need to change things if he wants to get better.

If he wants to live.

“Alright, honey. How ‘bout after the press conference I take a good rest?” he concedes.

“How about that and ending the party at a decent hour?” you add not letting up on the way your eyes bore into him.

A challenge.

It warms his blood the way you stand your ground, bartering with him to get him to do what you want, both in a frustrating way and in a way that doesn’t help his urge of wanting to ravish you with kisses. He pushes that tantalizing thought away as quickly as possible, before it gets him into trouble.

Honestly, Elvis wants to fight you on the subject because it’s his life and his house and his party, dammit, but instead, for whatever reason, he growls out a low, “Fine.”

You nod, seemingly satisfied for the moment.

“Now I have a date with my shower. You can freshen up after I’m done, darlin’,” he says, turning on his heel and stripping off his undershirt as he grabs his kit and heads into the bathroom.

“Okay…wait, what?” he hears your voice pitch up and pokes his head back out as he strips his pants.

“I said you can have the bathroom after me, honey…unless you want to join me?” he quirks a brow. Blood rushes straight to his crotch at the thought of you in the shower with him. He’s very glad for the fact that the rest of his body is concealed by the door, otherwise you might see how Little Elvis perks up at the idea.

“Join y—I—no, Elvis!” you sputter. Your cheeks blaze red, letting him know your mind likely went where his did, which sends a tingle down his spine. “I mean, shouldn’t I just get ready in my room?”

Oh. Well, this should be interesting.

“Honey, you are in your room.”

You blink, looking utterly confused. “Excuse me, what?” You look around, eyes landing on your suitcase in the corner.

“Well, the doc said I needed 24-hour care, little bird. What if somethin’ happens when I’m sleepin’? It’s not gonna do me much good if you are way down the hall when I need ya,” he says matter-of-factly, watching the realization finally hit you. “That and you’re supposed to be my girl, and no girl of mine is sleepin’ in a different room, if we’re bein’ honest,” he chuckles.

The look of fear that crosses your features sobers him quickly, however.

“I-I-I can’t—where will I sleep?” He can tell you are trying to keep your panic at bay, albeit unsuccessfully.

“In that giant bed right over ‘dere,” he points.

Your eyes go wide, the blood draining from your blushed cheeks, and he’s suddenly afraid you might pass out.

Elvis hastily grabs his robe hanging on the back of the door and throws it on over his briefs before crossing the room to you. He doesn’t want to spook you, nor does he want you keeling over, so he leads you to a chair in the corner. Making himself the least threatening he can think to, he kneels in front of you.

You are frozen, staring at the bed with the most trepidation he’s ever seen of a woman in his room.

When he speaks, it’s nice and soft, “Hey, hey, little Lo’, it’s gonna be fine, now. Remember, I ain’t never gonna hurt ya, okay? I’m guessin’ you didn’t think about the particulars when you signed on for the job, now didja? Not an innocent young thing like yourself, ‘course not.”

You shake your head.

“But I promise, I ain’t out to do anythin’ bad to you, honey. I won’t touch you. I won’t hurt you. And just look at that bed—it’s—it’s stupidly big. You can be on one side and me on the other and fit a whole ‘nother bed between us, right?”

You seem to be doing the calculations in your head and finally nod, your shoulders relaxing a little.

“And don’t you worry your little head, I always sleep in pajamas,” he adds, trying to ease you further.

“Oh, Madone, I hadn’t even thought about that…” you start to spiral, wringing your hands in your lap.

“And now ya don’t hafta!” he says a little too cheerfully, trying to steer you back on course.

You keep nodding, as if convincing yourself this is going to work, and he desperately wishes he could put you more at ease. It’s strange, watching you build those walls back up around yourself, brick by brick.

“Yes. Okay. This is fine. This is just part of the job. It makes the most logical sense,” you murmur. Your eyes closed, your chest rises and falls with a few deep breaths.

When your eyes finally open again, they are relatively calm.

“Now, I’m gonna go get ready. There’s room in those drawers over there for your things, and that closet there is yours for the takin’, so you make yourself at home,” he says, showing you what is now your space.

You gulp but nod in understanding.

“Are you gonna be alright, Lo’?” he asks, though he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer. A desperate part of him wants you to be comfortable here, wants to please you, though he’s not entirely sure why. You’re here to help him, not the other way around.

“Of course. It just…took me aback is all. I’ll adjust,” you say, gallantly, obviously still trying to convince yourself.

“Okay, darlin’.” Elvis pats your hand gently and your eyes meet his with a cautious understanding. Crisis averted, he stands and heads back into the bathroom to clean up.

Based on your hesitation to be intimate on the train, Elvis kicks himself a little for not having the forethought to warn you about the sleeping arrangements, but his mind has been so wrapped up in his own problems, he just didn’t think about it. That and it’s been a while since any girl has so blatantly not wanted to spend the night in the same room with him.

Relishing the heat of the water of the shower unknotting his tired muscles, he tries not to let his ego get in the way about the whole situation. It becomes clearer by the minute that your hesitation around him is less about him specifically and seems much more to do with your experiences and upbringing.

Or so he hopes.

Not that it matters…she’s here for a job, not for romance.

His brain whirrs with a multitude of thoughts as he finishes getting ready. It feels strange being here, dressing in normal clothes, getting ready for a press conference. He thought it would be harder somehow to flip back into being the Elvis Presley. And it’s true, he’s not quite the kid who left. He’s hardened some. There is a man looking back at him in the mirror now, and behind the sparkle of excitement in his deep blues lies the ghost of some cold, hard truths he doesn’t particularly want to face.

Maybe that’s why he chooses an all-black ensemble, playing with texture versus color. He pulls on charcoal trousers, just a little bit lighter than the rest of what he’s picked out. The thick, high-collared black sweater he pulls over his head is offset by the deep, rounded plunge that exposes his chest. Placing a gold medallion there helps add a bit of pizazz to the monochrome get-up, and he finishes with a boxy black jacket that broadens his shoulders and that’s just shy of thick enough to be a coat.

Elvis swoops his chestnut hair up into a somewhat familiar style and notices he doesn’t really need much around the eyes—he’s so damn tired, the darkness that rims them gives him the effect of wearing makeup when he isn’t. His color is up at least, though by the way his heart zips and his body warms, he’s wondering if it is another fever doing the job.

Whatever the cause, he looks pretty damn good, and right now that’s more than he could hope for.

Exiting the bathroom, he sees you hanging the clothes from your suitcase. There aren’t many, he notices.

Gonna have to take her on a shopping spree, he thinks excitedly, by the looks of your simple and conservative wardrobe. If there’s something he loves besides women and music, it’s buying clothes. The thought of dressing you up to match him, fashioning you to him, and being able to give you things you’ve never had sends a thrill vibrating through him. He can only imagine how amazing you’d look all gussied up based on how pretty you already are in your conventional and minimalist style.

You must sense his eyes because you turn and catch his stare. Your eyes widen the slightest bit at his appearance and take him in from head to toe with what he can’t tell if it’s a critical or admiring look.

“Whadya think?” he smiles broadly, turning around with his arms out.

After a moment, you speak, “Well, considering I’ve only seen you in a hospital gown or your uniform, I’d have to say you look…acceptable.” Your eyebrow quirks with a hint of judgement.

Acceptable?

He can’t help but chuckle a little at how unphased you seem to be, and he wonders if you truly see him this way or if you are just hiding behind those walls of yours. Maybe it’s a little of both.

“You might be my toughest audience, little bird, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs.

You nod. Then your eyes flit to the bathroom. It’s subtle, but he takes the hint quickly.

“It’s all yours, darlin’. I-I’ll, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” he says, stumbling through his words the moment he thinks about you being naked in his bathroom. He’s going to have to get over that, quickly, or else he’s gonna get himself in trouble right quick.

He turns to leave the room and is halfway out the door when he hears you speak again.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly.

He turns to you, seeing a genuine yet embarrassed look on your face.

“For being so patient with me. I know this can’t be easy, having me…invade your life like this,” you continue, waving a hand.

“I appreciate that little bird, just like I know it ain’t easy for you either. And you…you can invade my life all you want, darlin’,” he says with a flirty grin, trying to lighten the mood, but it comes out more breathless and endearing than kidding.  

Your unreadable but poignant stare rakes over him for a moment, sending a cascade of shivers down his spine. Then, you blink and look away, and it’s gone, whatever it was that ignited this feeling inside him. You seem to be doing a lot of that lately, and he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it, to be honest.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he says, clearing his throat and nodding before leaving you and closing the door behind him.

Sweat has gathered just above his upper lip. Elvis isn’t sure if it’s from knowing that you are currently undressing in his room or if it’s from the fever. Either way, he wipes it away, takes a deep breath, and makes his way downstairs to get ready for the reporters to arrive.

*

The interview itself is relatively short, a bunch of men crammed into Daddy’s office out back, but before and after the cameras follow him around the estate. He’s charming and polite as he eats bits off a huge fan made, guitar-shaped cake. He poses next to a Christmas tree from two years ago. He laughs and is pleasant and does everything he needs to do to make them happy.

Luckily, this part comes relatively easy for him. There’s no need to fake being excited to be home or for the movies and albums and appearances he’s already been signed up to do. No, his trepidation comes from other things. Like if he will be well enough to follow through on his commitments. Or if he can keep his declining health from the very people who surround him, so gleefully eating up his every word and gesture. And then there is the maneuvering around all the questions about the girls.

He knows Cilla ain’t gonna be happy when she sees this interview with the way he’s got to brush her off, but with recent developments and being back stateside, he has bigger fish to fry. Honestly, the little girl that captured his attention so fiercely in Germany feels a world away, almost like he dreamt her. So much has happened, and while he loves her and has a deep need to mold her to him, there is no way she is ready for any of this. Especially not now.

Plus, there is Anita to consider. Lovely little Nita, who promised to be good for him. The woman he wrote sweet promises to from across the sea as he entertained a multitude of other women in the meantime. The girl his mother begged him to settle down with.

Elvis thinks he should feel worse than he does for fooling around, but what was he supposed to do? Be celibate for two years? It wasn’t remotely realistic, and the situation was made worse by his grief over mama. He needed the company. He wasn’t gonna be sorry for that. But he doesn’t feel great about the lying or for quite accidentally falling for Cilla because Nita will most certainly see that as a betrayal. She already suspected as much in their last conversation, and they’ve been awfully cool with each other since, so he’s not even sure there is much of a relationship to come back to. But he has love for Anita, he knows that.

Sex is one thing, and love is another.

Unfortunately for him, he has the bad habit of being in love with more than one woman at once, most of the time. It’s in his DNA or something. But it causes a helluva problem when he’s got girls wanting to settle down because he can never seem to choose, nor can he seem to bring himself to ever actually break up with them. That damn jealous streak in him doesn’t help either.

Proof positive of this is how he’d sent Elisabeth, the young woman he’d fallen for in Germany right after mama died and made his “live-in” secretary, on to Graceland upon his return, even though they weren’t really an item anymore and even though he suspects she and Rex are having an affair. The thought of that boils his blood despite the fact deep down he wants it to be true because then it doesn’t have to be his responsibility to let her go. But it hurts his ego all the same.

Elvis is full of infuriating contradictions and he knows it, although he’s got enough problems as it is without getting caught up in how it all makes him feel.

Seeing Anita is both something he desperately needs yet also dreads, his stomach rolling with just the thought of it. He loves her still, though he’s not entirely sure in what capacity, but he’s certain she will want what he promised in his letters: marriage and a family.

And one thing is for sure—he can’t possibly start a family with a woman he can’t tell his secrets to, not when he’s not one hundred percent sure if that’s what he wants and who he wants it with.

This should tell him all he needs to know about his future with his little Anita, but the need for the comfort of someone familiar overrides all logic in his feverish brain. He can’t help but call her to come immediately, even though initially he planned for a private reunion after things had settled down some.

“Little,” is all he can bring himself to say when his blonde baby makes it through the front door before the party starts. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop her tiny body up into his arms and hold her like his life depends on it.

And she is warm and familiar and comfortable, Elvis thinks, as he buries his head in her hair and she clings to him. But the moment is quickly overridden by the tendril of doubt that climbs up his spine and sinks itself into his psyche. His heart begins to throb in his ears, and he pushes the bile that creeps up his throat back down with a gulp. Pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, he prays it will feel the same as before, that something, anything will be the same as before he was sent overseas.

It isn’t.

Lord, it breaks his heart a little, a flood of searing heat rolling through his chest when he pulls back and forces his best smile to paint his face. He can’t parse out right now why it isn’t, not exactly, not when she’s looking at him so expectantly. But he has a pretty good idea it’s not just the other women that has him feeling off about this, about her.

It’s cuz you’re a damn lying liar, a bitter voice in his head throws up at him, and you know you ain’t gonna tell her shit about all the ways you’ve betrayed her and especially not how you’re dyin’.

Shut the fuck up, he hisses back.

Perhaps this is why he pretends everything is right with the world, folding her into his arms through the evening, petting and patting her like he never left. He so wants everything to be perfect, to fit like it’s supposed to. He wants—no, he needs—a good woman by his side, to take care of him. Mama knew that. And she liked Anita for it.

But the ache in his heart and in his stomach tells him she’s not the one, yet his innate need to please still whispers maybe, maybe, maybe, matching the rhythmic pounding of his heart.

Later, when he pulls Little up to his room, he tells himself he’s gonna be honest with her, tell her everything and then they can start with a clean slate. But the words get trapped in his throat and he kisses her instead.

Elvis lets his body take over, even though it’s burning up, because this he knows how to do right. His lips plunder hers, hoping for salvation, and her mouth opens, ready and willing to take him. Her mewls and sighs, now those are real, those are something he can latch onto. It doesn’t take much at all to get her under him in his huge bed, his hands and lips exploring all the familiar dips and curves of her perfect form.

“You my good baby? Little was good while I’s gone?” he baby talks breathlessly at her, nuzzling her nose as his fingers dance over her body. Yes, this is familiar, this little vulnerability he lets leak through, this need to be insular and small and needy and taken care of.

She nods, furiously, replying breathlessly, “Yes, of course, baby.”

Elvis believes her, mostly. He wants to. She’s a good Southern girl who promised to wait for him, and he takes that for what it is. Because of this, he won’t go all the way with her, he never does, wanting to keep her pure.

But why? You ain’t gonna marry her.

The thought hits him like a truck, causing him to halt his ministrations.

“You alright, Elvis?” Anita asks, those pretty eyes of her clouding with a tinge of concern.

Shaking it off, he covers quickly, “Y-Yeah, o-of course, Little. Just missed ya, is all. Takin’ it all in.” Throwing a dopey grin on his face helps reassure her and his Little smiles back at him, her tiny hands running over his face and neck and chest until he remembers he doesn’t want to think anymore.

By the time he’s inched his hand up her skirt, feeling the center of her panties damp with slick, his mind finally relents, and his arousal takes over fully. It’s blissful, giving himself over to pleasure after so many days of racing thoughts. After having to fight his body at every turn.

No, now Elvis just slides his hand between her legs, grinding his quickly hardening cock into her hip, not a thought in his head other than bringing them both to the brink. He’s gentle, though, when he slips under the cotton, causing a whimper to escape her as he flits his fingertip over her slit and circles the little bundle of nerves at the top.

Anita keens and grinds into his hand, her hip rubbing deliciously against his length. With a moan, he pulls himself up, moving in between her creamy thighs to perch on his knees. This he can control; this he can satisfy.

“Show me how my yittle baby been so good while I’s gone,” he purrs in her ear. The way she’s panting with want and dripping onto his hand will have him finishing too soon if he’s not careful. “With no one to pet yer yittle kitty, ya must be all tight in there for me, right baby?”

“Mm hmm,” she nods, barely able to get the words out, as breathless as she is.

“Lemme see,” he commands. She opens her legs, knees coming up readily to accommodate him, lifting her hips up when he pushes her skirt to her waist. He smirks when he sees her choice of white panties exposed, the dark little curls visible through the thin fabric and the grey damp patch in the center that shows her need for him. The sight sends more blood rushing to his dick and it twitches roughly, scraping against his slacks.

But that will have to wait because he has an inspection to do, one he takes seriously as he hooks the crotch of her panties with one finger and pulls it to the side, revealing her bare, shining pink petals to him.

Oh, Lord have mercy, how he loves pussy, he thinks, swallowing a groan as he bends his head between her legs. She shudders at his proximity and bucks at how he parts her swelling lips with a long finger. He places a hand over her furry mound and presses lightly to still her, thumbing her clit.

Nita whines at that.

“Be a good baby,” he scolds. She stills. He finds himself wanting to rut into the mattress, but keeps himself on his knees instead, needing to see to her first.

He uses two fingers to part her lips, swallowing a moan when he sees her tight entrance leaking for him. “Aw, look at that. Kitty’s weeping for me, needs me so bad,” he coos. It’s a little wicked how he teases her, dragging a finger through the slick, up and down, watching her clench around nothing. But he can’t help but be enamored, can’t help how he brings his finger to his lips to taste the tang of her there.

“Elvis!” she squeaks, a wanton mixture of need and shock. She watches with wide eyes when he smiles at her before putting his entire middle finger in his mouth, lathing it with his tongue.

“The real test, baby,” he says, then takes his spit-soaked digit and slides it right up into that tight little hole. He can’t help the way he groans at just how damn good it feels to sink into her wet heat.

From the way she gasps and writhes and by how her walls clench around his finger, he reckons she’s passed his little test. “Such a good baby. No one’s been in my little kitty, now have they? I can feel it how good you been,” he praises, punctuating his words with a gentle thrust.

Anita cries out at that, the sound going straight between his legs. Slowly (because damn, she really is so very tight), he works his finger in and out, watching how she begins to rock with him, how she scrunches her eyes shut when he couples it with tight circles on her clit. His hand shines with her arousal in the low lighting, and the sloppy sound of her loosening has him clenching his legs together. Elvis wants to see her come apart, but at this rate he’s so aroused that it’s likely he’s gonna finish in his pants if he’s not careful.

Honestly, he’s so mesmerized by it all that he doesn’t even care. He’s dumb with her and can’t stop himself from lying down and pressing his lips to her clit, causing her to sigh out in surprise. This wasn’t part of his foreplay pre-army, so he can understand why she nearly levitates off the bed when he swirls his tongue around her and continues to work her with his finger. The tangy taste of her and the way she’s starting to tense around his finger has him dry humping the comforter, the friction causing his own moans to vibrate her core.

She’s panting his name now and all he wants is to make her scream.

Lapping and lathing and swirling, he bathes her sex with his tongue and he knows she’s close, and damn, he is too. He curves up and finds that little spongy spot deep inside while he sucks on her button and there it is.

“Elvis!” Anita shrieks his name, her hips coming off the bed as she clenches and shudders around him.

He digs his pelvis into the mattress as she soaks his hand in her slick. Removing his finger, a deep need overcomes him to taste her release from the inside. He licks her clean, spreading her open and driving his tongue deep into her as she squirms against him. Elvis moans into her soaking cunt and thrusts again and again into the friction of the bed under him, drunk on pussy.

Which is where you find him as you unsuspectingly walk through the bedroom door.

“Oh—my god! I—Oh!” he hears you gasp, and Lord damn him if his orgasm doesn’t hit him so damn hard that he can barely breathe with the combination of factors at play. For some reason, watching you stand there watching him covered in slick and tonguing pussy as his release erupts through him has him inconceivably turned on. It’s like the dial of his orgasm is suddenly turned up from 10 to 100. His cock pulses violently and he can’t stop the groan that emanates from deep within, can’t stop the hot ropes of seed that soil the inside of his slacks, coating his lower belly.

Anita screams, and in trying to cover herself, ends up driving his face deeper into her core. His eyes roll back into his head, and he finishes with another moan and an aggressive shudder.

In his post-coital haze, Elvis slowly removes himself from between Anita’s quivering thighs, sitting back on his heels. He sees you standing there in the doorway, frozen stiff with those crystal blue eyes blown wide and your hand covering your mouth. He’s not sure if he wants to laugh, cry with embarrassment, or invite you into the bed. Mostly the latter, he thinks, by the way his softening cock twitches at the thought. Regardless, as improper as it is, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you, and neither can you stop staring at him. Refracting and locked in this strange and intimate gaze with you, he knows he should do something to stop it, to stop this wild desire of his to try bring you into this decidedly pornographic scenario. His breath heaves from exertion and lingering arousal but he remains still, watching you, cum dripping down to his legs and seeping through his pants.

Anita is the first one to move, shoving a pillow on top of her lap with a yelp.

That seems to break the spell and set things in motion. “I-I-I-I’m so, so sorry,” you finally stutter out, covering your eyes, finally looking away.

“What are you even doing in here?!” Anita almost wails.

Oh shit.

When his clouded brain finally realizes the variety of bad implications your appearance brings, he shoots a warning, pleading glare in your direction. But in your mortification, you don’t see it.

“I—I was just coming to get—” you stop, eyes darting, finally catching the wild look on his face.

Anita wiggles around him and pulls her skirt down as fast as possible. “To get what? What could you possibly need to get in Elvis’ private bedroom? You can’t just come in here!” she huffs.

There’s no way that you could know that no one enters this room without express permission, and regardless, he had told you to make yourself at home. He hadn’t been thinking when he brought Anita up here because, well, this had never been an issue before.

You look at him for guidance, but his brain is barely functioning, so he has none to give, sputtering himself. He watches the wheels turn in your brain, how you go to speak, but stop yourself when realizing you can’t reveal that you’ve likely come up to check his vitals or come to bed. Any remotely truthful response is unacceptable, and because you are indeed no actress, it all reads on your face.

Anita jumps to standing, smoothing her skirt. Her eyes narrow, darting from him to you and back again.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding!” Anita seethes, turning on him. “Elvis Presley, what have you done?”

It’s like a bucket of ice has poured over what should be post-orgasmic bliss.

“I ain’t done nothin’, I swear, Little!” he placates, throwing up his hands.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Little’ me!” she points scathingly at him. “You told me she was fixin’ to see some friends down here and y’all were doing her a favor cuz she’d helped you after you hit your head! I should’ve known. I’m such a fool.” Anita’s eyes fill with tears as she shakes her head.

“I didn’t—it’s not—,” you start, trying to salvage the situation.

“Shut your mouth and get out, you silly girl!” Anita snaps.

You look horrified, but he watches as that unshakable face you get when doing your job suddenly slides into place. The look in your eyes when they meet his is apologetic, and then you leave quietly, the door clicking shut behind you.

“This isn’t what you think, Anita.”

“Don’t. Just—don’t. I’m not an idiot, Elvis,” she says, angrily wiping tears off her cheeks. “I just knew there were others…but you were tellin’ all your stories. I just never thought you’d bring them home…”

It both breaks his heart and pisses him off.

“Aw, shit, that’s not the way it is, that’s not the way it is at all, you know how I feel about you…”

“Elvis, I know we were cool to each other last time we talked, but—but you brought home a girlfriend!”

Her tone sets something off in him, flipping that switch inside that always makes him regret his actions later. Maybe it’s because he’s exhausted, sick and because his life doesn’t feel like his own and hasn’t for a long time. Or it’s because he’s truly trapped in this situation and knows there’s next to nothing that he can say to mend this without telling the truth, and that’s out of the question. But he can’t stop the wave of heat that boils through his veins, the one that wants him to burn it all to the ground.

Elvis rounds on her, defensive as can be, the words pouring out of him before he even has a chance to think on them. “You know why—you know why I was cool to you? This very reason, right here. I-I-I-can’t talk to you hon. You mess with my damn head, man. I-I-can’t count on a decent conversation with ya. Ya start throwin’ up all kinds of shit to me. Talkin’ about ‘girlfriends’ and all that nonsense. Been the same since I landed in Germany. You’re just a fuckin nag, that’s all, you’re just a nagger that’s all.”

It's cruel and he knows it by the way she looks like she’s been slapped in the face.

“Are—are you kidding me? It’s one thing when it’s across the ocean, Elvis, but quite another when you bring one of your whores home with you and in the same breath try and seduce me!” she spits.

Irrational, red-hot anger rolls over him at that. He chuckles darkly, livid, “Oh, I didn’t try, honey, I succeeded. And you shut your damn mouth about her. Don’t you dare call her—she’s no whore.”

“Oh, please. I didn’t want to believe it when I overheard Lamar talking about walking in on you two on the train. I wanted to think that you’d left it all behind. You said as much, but you and your never-ending parade of lies…” she says, her voice pitching up and grating on his last nerve.

His jaw clenches, ticking. “Why can’t you be sweet instead of bitchin’ like an old naggin’ ass wife, huh?” he says viciously. “I can’t stand that, I can’t stand it. Baby you’ve got me crazy, you know that? You get worse a-all the damn time, a-and th-th-that’s why I—"

“If you feel so strongly, Elvis, then I—” she starts in again.

“Well, that’s the way I feel about it a-a-and y-y-y-you don’t have to be that way either. Not to the extent that you are.”

Anita tries to interject but he’s countering her every move before she can even play it. They’ve danced this dance before, enough that he knows just how far to push before he breaks her, breaks them.

And he knows that’s what he’s got to do.

“No, you don’t have to be that bad,” he says vehemently, pointing at her, silencing her. “I just know you’re gonna start throwin’ something up to me a-and I don’t wanna hear it. I’m fuckin’ exhausted and try and try to give you what you want, but it’s never enough, is it? You turn me the fuck up, you know that? All the damn time! I-I-I can’t stand it. I-I can’t stand it Anita, I swear I can’t stand it.”

“Well, if you’d do right by me, this wouldn’t be an issue!” She’s crying now, the tears running down her pretty cheeks, smearing her makeup.

Still, he charges forward, his words brutal and cutting. He wants to tell himself this is just an act, but it’s as if every ounce of frustration he’s had the past week, the past few years, is pouring out of him all at once, directed squarely right at Anita. Elvis knows there’s enough truth in all this to make it real. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he knew the moment he saw her walk in the door that this was through, that it has to be. And that makes him even angrier.

“Naw, if I saw you every damn day, you’d still start that shit.” He raises his voice, tinny and high, horribly mocking her, “’Who’d you see today? You g-got a girlfriend? I’m surprised at you, blah blah, blah,’ and all that bullshit,” he spits.

“That’s a lie!” she wails.

“Naw, it ain’t no lie. Naw, you bring it up every time I talk to you.”

“Maybe if you didn’t make me a fool by flaunting them all in front of me, in the papers and the magazines, and bringin’ your whores into the house, I wouldn’t have to bother you about it!”

There it is again—that word, associated with you, the woman who’s done nothing to deserve such slander, no matter what you have to pretend—and his heart thunders in his ears. Rage fully consumes him. He goes nearly blind with it.

“She’s not a fuckin’ whore! I want her here, and it’s MY GODDAMN HOUSE!” he screams, kicking a nearby suitcase and sending clothes flying. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his now-wheezing breath. “And I ain’t gotta justify anything to you!”

Anita looks as wrecked as he feels, but she manages to straighten and pull herself together in the heavy silence that follows his outburst. “Fine. Then you ain’t got to worry about me botherin’ you anymore, Elvis. This is over.”

There it is.

He closes his eyes as she storms out of the room, the logical, non-enraged part of him hating how he’s treated her, how he’s failed her.

It had to be done.

Letting out a choking breath, his heart feels like it’s about ready to pound out of his ribcage and race right out of his chest. His body is railing against him the way he railed against Anita.

Serves you right, you sonnofabitch.

It’s as if everything is colliding in him at once. The weight of his responsibilities coupled with that of his treacherous body on top of having to push away someone he cares for makes it all feel like much too much. A faraway feeling comes over him, as though he’s watching the way he rampages through the room, tearing through unpacked suitcases like a starving dog in a dumpster, from someone else’s eyes.

Lord, he doesn’t want to care. He desperately wants to pretend it’s all been one of his night terrors—that he’ll wake up in some bizarre place and find out the last few years, since mama died, have all been a figment of his imagination.

But no, he’s knows it’s real. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if it wasn’t. His body wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t true.

Racing thoughts mimic his racing heart, his labored breath: Why, God? Why am I given these trials? Is this the terrible price I gotta pay for the fame and idolatry that I never truly asked for?

Elvis hears a mournful, roaring wail before realizing it’s coming from him, that the horrible sound is emanating and rumbling out of his chest. His vision swims with tears and the room spins around him, but there is a terrifying calm in the center of this storm where he finds himself now, watching the wreckage, unable to change anything.

No one will ever understand. I am utterly…alone.

And then the hideous whisper of his self-destructive streak: Burn it all to the ground.

“Elvis!” The door flings open as you barrel through, calling his name, your eyes wide with worry.

Lamar clamors in after you, putting himself between you and Elvis. “You don’t wanna be here for this, girly,” he says, trying to push you back out.

The overwhelming churning ocean inside him agrees. He wants you nowhere near him when he’s monstrous like this. The plea starts in his head… Get out, get out, “Get out!” Elvis bellows throwing whatever is nearest to him at the wall with a crash.

You jump, wincing at the sound, but when you open your eyes, they are filled with determination and something else he can’t parse through in his state.

“Let me go!” you snap at Lamar, fiercely enough to surprise him into releasing you. Then, you are in front of Elvis, your eyes piercing through the cloud of his anger.

“No. I will not go. Elvis, look at me. I will not go.”

The room snaps back into focus so suddenly he feels whiplash.

Blinking, he flounders under your stare. Part of him is livid at your audacity, for not obeying, for simply existing because it reminds him of his dire situation. But another part is desperate for you to make this stop.

Something between a growl and a whimper escapes him as he tries to turn away, but you pull him back. Your cool hands are like aloe against his burning, sticky cheeks. He slaps your hands away, suddenly ashamed that you’ve touched the evidence of Anita’s arousal that still covers his face, that he subjected you to that intimate act, that he got off on it.

“Just leave!” he shouts, heaving, tears of frustration now spilling down his cheeks. He’s dizzy with emotion and from not being able to catch his damn breath. His knees maddeningly buckle under him, and finally, he gives in, sinking his knees into the plush carpet.

“No,” you respond calmly, coming down with him. You turn your head, addressing Lamar, “You can go.”

The quiet order you have given has Lamar leaving and shutting the door without question. If he was thinking straight, Elvis might be amazed at your confidence, but the world is still swirling like mad around him. He doesn’t want you to see him weak or feeble. He closes his eyes, wanting it all just to stop, hoping to disappear.

“Elvis. Elvis, I need you to breathe as deep as you can for me.”

Your tone has him obeying even though he feels petulant about it.

“Again. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

He does, oxygen shuddering through him.

You guide him like this for God knows how long, your presence a balm to his gaping hole of a heart. His shoulders slump and he starts to feel boneless, the fire of his anger cooling with each inhale and exhale.

Eventually, he can feel you begin to rise, and his eyes fly open in a panic. His hand grasps your arm, and he shakes his head violently.

“I’m not leaving, I’m just going to grab some things from my bag. Keep breathing.” You remove his hand gently, with a soft smile.

Elvis nods, closing his eyes again because it all still feels too big and the exhaustion he’s pushed off for too long is winning the battle. He hears rustling and the tap in the bathroom turn on, then off, before the padding of your feet on the carpet reaches him again. Sensing you before him, he opens his eyes and looks up at you mournfully through tear-soaked lashes.

You bring a dampened washcloth to his face, gently wiping away the salt of his tears and the arousal left from his romp with Anita. Then you wipe his hands, one by one. He wants to be embarrassed about it all, but all the fight has drained out of him and the action is so soothing that he can’t help but let you continue. He doesn’t deserve this quiet comfort, he thinks, yet is powerless to stop it.

“Up,” you instruct. There’s a softness to it that makes him want to do whatever you ask. You hold out your hands to help him off the ground, then wrap an arm around his middle which he is thankful for when he realizes he’s not steady on his feet. The few steps to the bed are conquered slowly and he falls to the edge quite ungracefully once you release him.

When you seem satisfied that he’s not going to slide off and back onto the floor, you pop a thermometer in his mouth and wrap a cuff around his bicep, taking to task without a fuss. He tries to not let his thoughts spiral again, focusing instead on the swish of your skirt against his knees.

“Hmm, 102.4,” you tut softly, looking down at him with compassion and an eyebrow quirk that intonates an I told you so without it being uttered. “And your blood pressure is too high. Probably from all that…exertion.”

It’s all he can do to just meet your eye, apologies for the multitude of bad behaviors you’ve witnessed tonight caught in his throat. He’s never been good at saying he’s sorry, but he wants to, he does, but he can’t seem to get anything out, much less an apology. Instead, he just looks up at you and hopes his eyes convey the words he cannot say.

You blink in response, your crinkled brow the only fissure in your currently calm exterior. Pushing it away as fast as it appeared, you reach into your bag to retrieve what looks like a bottle of aspirin, handing him two and a glass of water that you must have gotten from the bathroom.

“Swallow those down, and then let’s get you into some pajamas and into bed,” you say, looking at him for guidance on where his pajamas might reside.

He points to the set of drawers across the room. Popping the pills in his mouth, the taste is acrid on his tongue, and he washes them down quickly with the water.

There is something about how you’ve taken over the situation so deftly and completely that has Elvis at your mercy. No one, not even his mama, was ever very good at bringing him down from his bouts of temper, his explosive emotions usually being too big for anyone to handle. But somehow, you employed such a calming presence that he almost wonders if you hypnotized him.

Regardless, you hadn’t run in the opposite direction or turned into a trembling mess before him, and this shocks him, based on what he knows of you and knows of those unfortunate enough to be subjected to his temper. He has not scared you away, and that is something strange indeed.

A sudden and unwavering need for you courses through his tired body and weary soul. It’s different from his attraction to you, something more. It makes him feel raw, vulnerable, and a little afraid at how deeply he craves comfort from you, how he wants to anchor himself to you because he feels so adrift.

Perhaps this is why he gives himself over to your firm but quiet orders, finally deferring to you in a way that is both relieving and disconcerting because he feels so damn small. But he’s just so drained and worn and for once, doesn’t want to be in charge anymore.

His shoulders slump and his limbs feel heavy, so he does not resist when you begin to strip him of his top layers. In fact, the only help he gives is to lift his leaden arms to allow you to pull his sweater up and off, leaving him bare-chested before you. He finds himself desiring the intimacy of letting you take care of him, watching you sleepily through heavy lidded eyes as you move around him. The feel of your fingers brushing lightly against him when you lean close to remove the medallion from around his neck sends his heart fluttering.

You are singularly focused on doing your job, that professional concentration of yours playing over your features, assisting you in your goal of getting him comfortable and resting. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’ve helped others like this in your work based on your deftness, despite your lack of experience with men in general, but part of him wishes he were special—that he alone receives this level of care from you. The possessiveness of the thought swims away and he’s left feeling glad there are no expectations of him, other than to let you work. He relishes in this, letting you maneuver him like a child into his dark, silky pajama top. Frankly, he feels nearly catatonic, so your assistance is both necessary and pacifying.

It's when you undo his belt that a sense of bashfulness heats his cheeks. He’s not wearing any underwear, but that’s the least of his worries. No, it’s the fact that, in his burst of dramatic temper, he had forgotten he came in his pants, causing a sticky, musky mess from his waist to his knee. He only has time to suck in a sharp breath before you’ve already made quick work of his buttons and zipper.

Oh, God.

Elvis’ entire body flushes pink and he bites his lower lip with enough force to draw blood. But you are too engrossed in your task to catch his sudden embarrassment, and you manage to unearth the mess before he has a chance to stop you. He’s gotta give you credit in that you only pause for a moment, almost immediately reaching for the discarded washcloth from earlier and handing it to him wordlessly before continuing with your job of removing his soiled slacks leg by leg. The only hint that belies your composure is the bit of red that tinges your cheeks quite abruptly, but otherwise, you show no reaction to his nakedness or the mess.

Grateful that your eyes are actively avoidinghow he’s frantically wiping his pecker and surrounding areas, he forces his slow and heavy limbs to move as fast as possible. It proves difficult in his unwell state, and by the time he finishes, you are already pulling legs of his pajamas up his knees. You are so efficient that he barely has time to balk at the fact that you are between his legs and eye level with his bareness before he’s raising his hips and you are slipping the silk up to his waist.

A deep relief washes over him, not just for his modesty, but because he feels like he can truly rest for the first time in a long time. For some reason, with you here, he finally feels safe to do so. There is something incredibly soothing in having you take care of him like this. He’s not sure why he ever tried to fight it in the first place.

“Time to sleep,” you say gently, pulling back the covers on the bed.

Elvis is so drowsy and needy that he very much wants to surround himself in your soft embrace and finds himself unable to resist doing so. He unabashedly throws his arms around your hips, drawing you close, and buries his head into your stomach.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly in surprise, tensing under his sudden and intimate touch.

He does not relent, however, only nuzzling deeper into your body and pulling you in between his legs to bring you closer. This need of his to be held and coddled is strong on a good day, and right now it takes over what little is left of his conscious thought. The security of your soft, nurturing warmth is all he craves.

You relax, seeming to realize his intentions are pure, and Elvis feels your fingers begin to cart through his hair and rub his back. He sighs into it. It’s better for him than any medicine and that scares him a little. How could it not when he barely knows you? Yet you manage to soothe something deep inside him that no one else can seem to reach. Maybe he can’t stop thinking about you because you are meant for more in his life.

God has a plan…

The thought settles pleasantly, deep within the recesses of his mind. As you lay him down, covering him with the duvet and he drifts into sleep, he snuggles into the safety of knowing he is in your capable, beautiful hands.

*

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[dylannconstance]

Kinktober Volume 1: New Tracks

Word Count 1271

Rated M🔞

Comment for tags

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

Synopsis: Pick your player x reader, SMUT! Minors stay out of this portion of the library. Office setting, audio erotica, over the desk, cock warming, recording without knowledge

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

“Good night. Have a great weekend!,” I call out as the door shuts and the last of my coworkers leave for the day. 5:45. I glance at the stack of paperwork on the corner of my desk and slide my earbuds in place. I will not be leaving anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

3 hours later, I can feel my focus waning. Just 9 more client records and I can go home. The ending of this hell week is on the horizon.  Pulling the next folder off the stack, I give it a once over. Typical information to input in the system. Nothing special, but still my brain won’t wrap around it. I shift my hips, trying to get comfortable. It’s always been this way. When I get bored, I don’t necessarily feel fidgety. No. I feel horny. Like I need something to fill me up to keep me still, to keep me focused. 

I fidget for what feels like the tenth time this minute alone and contemplate heading to the bathroom. This is not a singular event, and more often than not the easiest way to get my head back into focus is to insert my trusty vibrator, turn on some sexual audio and continue on about my day. Most times the vibrator doesn’t even need to be on, just nestled inside of me to help keep my brain focused on the task at hand as the sounds serve as a reminder that once everything is completed I will reward myself with a sweet, powerful orgasm. 

Looking over the file again, I try to focus on the writings on the page. Switching my music off and turning to some spicy ASMR to help, I grab my phone and make the switch. Low moans, skin hitting skin and whiny groans fill my ears as I relax a bit. Finally, the record in front of me makes sense and I get the information quickly into the computer. 8 more to go. 

3 more folders completed, and the audio file has ended. Causing the fidgets to come back 10-fold as I quickly try to find a new audio track to listen to, I do not want to be here all night. 

Two hands run up my shoulders, causing me to jump and scream. 

“Relax, baby, it’s me.” My boyfriend’s warm, honey brown eyes stare into mine as he turns my chair to face him. 

“What the hell are you doing here this late?” I ask, glancing at the clock reading 10:10. 

“Well, I figured you hadn't eaten yet and would probably be hungry. I also figured that judging by the time and how much work you said you had, you’d also be quite….fidgety.” He says, raising his eyebrows suggestively, before grabbing my phone. “Based on your searching, I can see I’m correct.” 

One thing of the many that I love about my boyfriend is that he knows my concentration techniques and does nothing to chastise me for them. Hell, he willingly helps in any way he can. Today was no different.

“Get up,” he says, pulling my chair farther from my desk and lifting my arm, helping me rise out of it. Once I’m standing, he takes my spot and slides his sweats down to release his already hard member. 

“Been thinking about something on the way here?” I ask with a sly smile.

“Why don’t you sit and find out?” Pulling my skirt over his lap, I lower myself onto him, hissing as the familiar stretch fills me. This is exactly what I needed. 

“Shit baby, no panties again? I have half a mind to bend you over this desk for parading around like that all day.” His voice is strained and breathy as I find a comfortable spot for both of us to situate in. 

“3 files,” I moan once my chair is pulled back to my desk in an easy set up. “3 files, then you can.” Already my brain fog is clearing, reading the waves my pussy is sending to focus, so it can get fucked properly. 

“Wait,” He says, taking my earbuds out and placing one of his in my left ear. “Now focus so we can both enjoy it soon.” He hits play and a familiar moan filters through my ear. 

“Did you record yourself?” I ask, feeling my walls throb.

“Yeap and us. I’ve been recording us for a little while” He says, just as my voice lets out a soft whimper in my ear. “Figured having a library of sounds made would help you find something faster. From the feel of you pulsing and getting wetter, I’d dare say it’s working. You’re not mad, are you?”

“Mad? Mad I didn’t think of it before, it’s definitely working. Thank you baby.” I say honestly as I turn to kiss him. The movement causes both of us to moan softly. 

“Work, please, then we can make a new track.”

Turning back to my computer, I pull up the files I need and get typing. My brain now laser focused as the sounds of our very own sexual experiences take over. The remaining files are done a mere 30 minutes later, making this a new record for me. 

“Done.” I say, closing the desktop and moving my files to the side. “Shit, you have no idea how much that helped. Thank you for being here, baby, and thank you for the audio files. What do you say we create another track?” I ask, leaning back and softly rocking on his lap, his cock still hard and nicely tucked inside of me. 

“Yes please.” He says, switching his phone to voice notes. “I’m so fucking hard from sitting here, I’m not gonna last long, baby.”

Opening my desk drawer, I pull out my makeup bag with my mini vibrator inside. Turning it on, I place it in his hand and guide him under my long skirt. 

“Let’s make it fast then.” He glides the vibrator to my clit as we both stand, staying connected. As promised, I lean over my desk and spread my legs. Pressing the vibrator down, his hips began to snap against mine at a quick and harsh speed. Slamming my hips back into his, I feel every ridge of his dick sliding in and out of me. The moans leaving his mouth are going to make a great track. I lift my leg, allowing him more access once the knot begins to build in my stomach. “I’m close, s-o so fucking close.” I whimper as he grabs my leg, using it as leverage to move faster and deeper. 

“C-um, cum baby c-um with me. L-let me hear those sounds that drive us fuck-fucking crazy.” He presses the vibrator against my clit, rubbing it in small circles. Causing the knot to tighten and break apart in a knee buckling orgasm. My sounds muted because of our setting, but definitely doing the trick for this next track. His grunts and high-pitched moans follow as I feel him release inside of me. Rocking into me a few more thrusts, we ride out our orgasms before he collapses on the chair again, completely out of breath. Reaching forward, he takes the vibrator and pushes it inside me, another moan leaving my lips. 

“Keep that in until we get home. I want the next track to sound extra juicy.” He says, kissing my hip before pulling my skirt down and situating his sweats back in place. Grabbing his hand, I follow him out of the building on shaky legs. This next track is going to sound amazing.

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

Kinktober Complete Collection

🧋Kofi

#pickyourperson #pickyourfighter #kinktober2023 #kinktober #marvel x reader #pickyourfightersmut #pickyourpersonsmut #skz x reader #ateez x reader #txt x reader #anyone you want x reader

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Stormy Weather

Summary: While you’re struggling to get home from a month-long mission, Jeff and Natasha seek comfort from missing you.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1408

Warnings: None

A/N: Hiii, sorry I know I haven’t been posting much lately. I’ve had so many ideas, but I can’t seem to get them written in a way I actually like. Plus, my motivation to write only ever seems to come when I’m at work and can’t write 😭 I’ll try my best to start posting more regularly again but no promises, thank you all for sticking around :) comments and reblogs are much appreciated :)

This was also based on an ao3 comment from a fic MONTHS ago, that I just got round to actually writing 😭

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe (you don’t need to read the others to understand)

—————————————————

Natasha rubbed her eyes harshly. Staring at the screen day after day was taking its toll. 30 days this would be; 30 days since you had gone on a mission that should have only been two weeks.

There were complications, and she knew you didn't have the time or the means to contact her directly. But she was exhausted, barely sleeping, needing to be there in case you *did* manage to get in contact. 

Natasha knew she couldn't have gone with you. No matter how much it would have alleviated her worries, she had other priorities. Working on the desk side of the same mission would be enough for her.

Patters of rain made Natasha jerk her head up. No light came through the window, but the circles of water indicated that the predicted storm was on its way. Natasha sighed; she'd been far too engrossed in work to even notice nightfall. She hoped Jeff had been okay with her absence.

After a sigh and a stretch, the door to the home office opened, and Natasha stepped out. A break was necessary, and some company would do her and Jeff some good.

—————————————————

Natasha reached the living room entrance before she paused, staying quiet to see a scene of innocence play out.

Jeff had padded right past her; the Blahaj he carried acted as blinders for his peripheral and even blocked some of his front-facing vision. Natasha watched as Jeff shuffled and hopped to see over his stuffed shark, before the sofa blocked her view. 

Natasha watched Blahaj’s tail slowly disappear before she followed. Jeff had been working longer than she’d seen, as pillows and blankets lined the sofa, along with a few stuffed animals you had bought for him. 

Jeff froze when he noticed Natasha was watching. The two stared, unblinking, for seconds that seemed to stretch. Then Jeff flopped, his back legs dropping into a seated position and his head bowing.

“Is that Y/N’s t-shirt?” Natasha asked gently, pointing at the white shirt half pulled over the Blahaj’s head. 

Jeff followed his nod with a dejected “mrrr”. Natasha knelt in front of him; she noticed tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Miss,” Jeff signed. 

The rain was getting heavier against the window, and Natasha knew the thunder and lightning were soon to begin. Jeff would need her comfort. 

“I miss Y/N too; it’s been just us for a while, huh?”

“Mrrr.” Jeff nodded again.

“Let me help you with this then,” Natasha stated, finally catching Jeff’s attention when she pulled Blahaj between them. Jeff pushed under Natasha’s outstretched arms to take a position on her lap, reaching out to pull the shirt on properly. 

Natasha’s expression softened; she could see how much Jeff missed you, yet all she could do was sit and wait with him. She hardly knew more about your whereabouts than the land shark, but at least he had the bliss that came with ignorance, lacking knowledge that you would ever be in danger. 

“Mrrr,” Jeff hummed, grabbing and stretching to wrap his arms around more than just the shirt. It pulled Natasha out of her thoughts, her focus returning to the room. A stuffed toy in her hands, the weight of the land shark on her lap, the sound of the rain and a distant rumble of thunder outside-

Jeff repeated his whine. Natasha bent her arms until Jeff could cling onto his plushie, wrapping his limbs around it as much as he could and squeezing it tight.

In turn, Natasha drew Jeff closer. Her hidden hand kept Blåhaj upright, knowing Jeff would reject the help but tumble off her lap without it.

Their peace was interrupted by the first - sudden - rumble of thunder. Natasha and Jeff reacted immediately; the Black Widow startled at the sound but reflexively pulled Jeff closer. Meanwhile, the land shark squeezed Blahaj tight and buried himself in Natasha’s lap.

“That was loud.”

“Mrrr.”

“Are you okay, Jeff?”

“Mrrr.” He shook his head, face still pressed firmly into the soft plushie. 

“The thunder is scary, I know-”

“Mrrr!”

“-but it can’t hurt you here. I’m with you. Why don’t we finish what you started? Turn all these pillows and blankets into the best fort we can make. How does that sound?”

“Mrrr.”

—————————————————

One month away from this warmth. One month away from your fiancee and your land shark. The need to find them filled your mind; there was nothing you wanted more, to finally be able to while the evening away, to do nothing but bask in their companionship. As suddenly as quiet settled in your surroundings, so too did the thoughts in your mind, trailing away until you felt at peace. The mission report could wait.

Flashes of the mission ran through your mind, of mess-ups, mistakes, twists and turns, of constantly battling to just get home. You hardly even noticed the pouring rain, too caught up in your thought; even on your way back, the weather revolted against you. A long sigh left you when the door clicked shut.

A cosy quiet came with it. Appliances and radiators hummed throughout the house, while the noises of the thunder and rain diminished the second the door shut. With the quiet, even your brain began to relax, focusing on the warmth and safety you had spent a long month missing.

One month away from this, away from your land shark. Away from your fiancée. Did they know you were returning? Natasha would be greeting you if she'd seen the mission success, but then again, data had been patchy on the field, and you weren't even sure it had been sent. 

And Jeff would be barrelling in to greet you if he'd heard the door shut.

It seemed, for once, you had the element of surprise upon your return. 

As quietly as you could manage, you shed your outer layer of clothes and hung them up to dry. Jeff would always be excited to see you, but you doubted Natasha’s enthusiasm if you traipsed dripping garments through the house.

Through the pattering rain, you made out the faint noises of the TV, soft voices that guided your search to the living room.

You’d missed home. Even a perfectly created mission left an absent feeling, a creeping loneliness you struggled to put your finger on. But it was this; missing the small captures of life: a scene too spontaneous to be planned and small enough to oft be overlooked. 

A dazzling fort of cushions and blankets adorned your sofa. You wouldn’t be surprised if Tony Stark himself had built it; it was a feat of engineering. However, the actual creators hadn’t strayed far. In the middle of it all lay your two loves; Natasha dozed with her arms loosely wrapped around Jeff. The pair of them held Blahaj tight against Jeff’s stomach. 

They still faced the TV, but from the look of the channel, sleep had taken hold of them far before you arrived. Orange chickens flooded the screen, seeming to be the focus of the program – Jeff’s worst nightmare. The land shark had been much more cautious around them since his encounter with Susan, the farm chicken who looked identical to those on TV. Jeff couldn’t have slept knowing his feathered foes were just a screen away.

You switched it off; just in time. Another wave of thunder rumbled, and you saw Natasha tremble in her sleep, her grip on Jeff and Blahaj tightening. Tight enough to wake the land shark.

Jeff awoke slowly; he sought comfort and warmth in Natasha’s arms while he blinked his way into full awareness. The moment he saw you was clear; his eyes and mouth widened, and his tail thumped up and down repeatedly. That is…until he remembered his situation. Very quickly, Jeff stilled, then moved a finger to his lips.

“You don’t want me to wake her?” you whispered, an estimated translation of his actions. It took a few more signs from Jeff for you to understand.

“Mother. Didn’t sleep. Tired. And scared.” 

"And you're not scared?" you signed back.

"Jeff brave."

"You’re the bravest, Jeff.” As you spoke, the thunder rumbled once again. Jeff’s fingers dug into his stuffed toy, with a slight whimper escaping that you pretended you didn’t notice. “Thank you for looking after Nat for me; you’ve done it so well.”

“Now… is there room for three in that fort? I think it’s time we napped.”

—————————————————

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character​​ @wolferine​

#jeff the landshark #jeff the land shark #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x y/n #marvel #mcu

[eyelessfaces]

neurotic mess

poe dameron x reader

this has to be one of the most self indulgent fic I've written so far. I haven't been doing amazing recently, and writing this comforted me a little and was more effective than every time I tried to go to therapy.

summary: poe notices you have trouble focusing during a meeting, and he's ready to do anything to make you feel better.

warnings: mental illness, dissociation, depression and autism. please don't read if you're sensitive to this kind of stuff. also this is purely self indulgent so if you don't experience mental illness/disorders mentionned above the same way, well... that's not my fault that's just how it goes for me

tags: gn!reader, poe being the absolute best boyfriend, fluff

word count: 1.2k

Something was wrong. He could sense it.

Poe frowns slightly as he clears his throat and adjusts his position on his feet. 

The sight of you nervously chewing on the skin at the side of your thumb has had him have trouble focusing on Leia’s plans, and he knew he couldn’t function properly when he knew you felt like this. Poe knew you way too well, and therefore he knew there was something wrong and he couldn’t help but empathize and overall feel worried. 

You’re across the room and he’s trying to catch your gaze in an attempt to mouth you a ‘you okay ?’ but unfortunately, your eyes are lost and focused watching a specific point at your feet.

Poe knows this, you have spaced out, unable to focus on the meeting.

The meeting finally ends after what seems to be ages for Poe. Multiple people come to him for questions and details about the meeting, but he brushes them off telling them he has more important stuff to do, because it’s true: he has to look out for you.

The sound of his concerned tone tears you out of your thinking, and you feel startled when you see he’s standing right in front you.

“What ?” you ask, feeling light-headed.

“Are you okay ?” Poe repeats, dragging you to a corner of the room, and you nod your head absently before your eyes dart around the room, seeing people move around, assuming the meeting is over. 

“Yeah” you sigh, scratching at your forehead. You hate lying to Poe, but it’s for his own good. You know he doesn’t have the time to worry about you, and you don’t want him to worry about you.

His head tilts slightly, and he pinches his lips before talking.

“Sweetheart… You know it’s no use trying to hide it.” he whispers, putting a hand over your shoulder. He rubs his thumb at the juncture between your shoulder and neck and weakly smiles at you even though you’re avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry” you mutter under your breath, and his deep brown eyes soften at your words.

“Don’t apologize. We’ve talked about this. You need to tell me when there’s something wrong so I can try to help you if you let me, mh ?” he asks rhetorically, waiting for your approval.

You finally look up at him and nod. He smiles endearingly at you and grabs either side of your neck, leaning to leave a kiss at your forehead. You close your eyes at the gesture, and when he pulls away his hands slide up to your cheeks.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong ?” he asks softly, still not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.

You stare at his kind, worried eyes and you know you’re safe. Him just establishing physical contact, caring, and talking you through it makes you feel - a bit - better already.

“I’m so tired, Poe.” you admit, and he nods as his thumbs stroke both of your cheeks. “I have trouble focusing and I haven’t heard a word about the mission plan because I was too deep into my head. I don’t think I have the strength to do anything.” 

His gaze softens at your words and he nods again before kissing at your temple, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. He closes his eyes in contentment as you wrap your arms around him, happy that you’re letting him in. His lips feel warm against your skin, and the feeling of his thumb delicately tracing your features appeases you a bit. 

You stay like this for a bit while the briefing room is gradually emptying. Poe pulls away from your embrace, looking into your eyes as the back of his fingers brush against your face one last time. He licks his lips before taking his hands off of your face.

“I’ll talk to Leia, she’ll withdraw us from the mission, okay ?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“What ? No,” you snap. “They need you, obviously. You’re commander” you chuckle at the absurdity of his offer, and look down as Poe takes your hand in his.

“Finn can replace me. He’s qualified” he nods with a smile. “Don’t worry about this. You’ll get some rest and I’ll stay with you so I can take care of you”

You sigh and as you’re about to speak again to bargain, he stops you with a few tuts.

“You don’t have a choice there love” he notes, a sly smirk drawn on his face.

Poe brings your linked hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles before smiling at you one last time and leaving to talk to Leia.

—

You liked the way Poe just held you close, his body heat radiating against you in a comforting way.

It felt like you were draped in a nice blanket; when it was just him, his chest pressed to your back, his arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face buried into the back of your neck.

“Do you know what triggered you ?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss just behind your ear.

You blink tiredly before speaking. “Hum… Nothing actually. I don’t think so. Everything felt out of place and uncomfortable the moment I opened my eyes this morning.” you affirm, voice a bit raspy as you have barely been talking since Poe brought you back to your quarters.

“Mh” he hums, shifting slightly so he can be pressed even closer to you. “I should have known something was up when I got out of bed before you did.” he chuckles, his hand smoothing over your arm, up and down, in a soothing manner.

“Yeah… It just happens from time to time. This unsettling feeling that you don’t belong and that your body and mind just feel too weak to let you do anything”

Poe smiles weakly at your words. “That’s okay to feel that way sometimes and you shouldn’t feel like it’s not.” he affirms getting a strand of hair out of your face. “If you need to rest then you should rest”

“Yeah but…” you turn around to face him and his hand immediately clings to your cheek. “You’re always moving around, never stopping, and that’s the right thing to do because we’re in the middle of a war.”

“If you need to rest then you should rest.” he repeats, thumb going over your cheekbone. “If you go on field and are too distracted to do anything then you should not go at all because you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“And others” you continue.

“And others.” he affirms, pinching his lips into a small smile. His fingertips ghost over the side of your face, and you weakly smile at him. “It’s okay not to feel okay.” he declares, raising his eyebrows as if he is waiting for your approval. “It happens and it’s normal, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for it.”

You close your eyes and nod, and he cradles the back of your head to lean in and gently kiss your forehead.

“I love you” he whispers, and his words somehow almost feel like a promise.

“Even if I’m a neurotic mess ?” you chuckle as a tear of tiredness rolls down to your temple.

“Even if you’re a neurotic mess.” he affirms smiling, chasing away the single tear before kissing your lips as if to prove his previous words.

—

star wars taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @Leerose42779 @mystinky-butt

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x gn!reader #star wars #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[anti-endo-haven]

Guys, I’m making a post just as a debrief because I feel like it needs to be reminded.

I am a person behind this screen. No matter what you are on, I am a living being behind it. I am not an automated system that can answer things randomly. I get things wrong, I can get hurt, I can be triggered, I can get upset with something that you say.

I am making this to remind you that if you do not have a trigger warning or a brief description/warning on things that you get into, it can trigger me. It can also harm me.

I’m not trying to make it about myself, but I’d also like the courtesy to also make sure that I am okay when reading what you type out. Another reason why I have so much in a queue is because of vents that I get that I cannot bear to see again and again, and I can only avoid them for so long.

I also have my own mental health to focus on and worry about. I am human. Please, do not treat me as anything less.

This isn’t towards anyone in particular, but I do need to be able to continue things.

I won’t lie, I have had times where I’ve wanted to run away from the blog and to delete it, not out of my own stress, but because of vents not being warned properly and sending me into my own fits.

If you see me posting a certain way, it’s not always because of a switch. It is because I have seen something, read something, and I do not like keeping people waiting for their asks to be put out so I get them done as quickly as possible without thinking.

I mean none of this as a means of anger or malicious intent, just please understand that I am a person behind the screen. One person. With my own trauma and triggers as well as other things.

This is not to say to stop venting, this is to say to please warn me and others at the top of your vent so no one has to go in blind. I can only get so far and I can deal with so much detail.

And PLEASE remind yourself that this is the internet. There are a lot of things that do not need to be said in the wrong crowds.

Thank you.

#anti endo #did system #system #osddid #endos dni #traumagenic system #actually did #endos not for you #actually traumagenic #did plural #did plurality #osdd plural #osdd plurality

[dotster001]

Enemies to Lovers part eight, I've given up on my coworker a little bit, she's stubborn and we're nearing the end, so it looks like she'll never love vil

Summary: Back at NRC, you start your new job, only to get some terrifying news

Chapters: one. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Nine. Ten. Epilogue.

"Y/N." 

You were drawn from yourr thoughts by the voice of yourr soon to be employer.

"Hello, Azul," you  said, looking up from your lunch.

"Good morning," he and Jade took the seats across from you, while Floyd picked Grim up from his seat next to you, and stole that spot.

"The second location will be finished on schedule, so I'd like to get your managerial training taken care of before the freshmen arrive. I assume you've been reading the papers I've been sending to you?" He raised a single eyebrow, and you nodded. "Good Y/N. Managerial training will be handled by Jade, and Floyd will train you on how waiting is handled in our establishment. That can wait until opening though, because I won't be sending any new hires to you right away."

Floyd made a humph sound as Jade covered a smile behind his hand.

"I was actually wondering why Jade or Floyd wasn't manager?" You questioned.

"Boring," Floyd rolled his eyes.

"I much prefer to work behind the scenes and observe how things run," Jade smiled.

"Agreed," came a smooth voice from behind you, and you turned to see Epel and his new Vice Housewarden, both looking ravishing.

Epel gave you a tight hug. "I missed you so much. Vil hogged all your time this summer," he pouted. 

"From what I understand, you were also very busy, Mr. Housewarden," you giggled.

"True," he smiled. "Jade and Azul, I'm sure you already know a little too much, but I wanted to introduce you to my vice housewarden, Morgan. Morgan, that is Azul and Jade, housewarden and Vice Housewarden of Octavinelle, and that's Y/N, who's the prefect of Ramshackle."

"And when they die, I'm the prefect," Grim laughed gleefully, until Floyd gave him a light kick.

A Pomefiore student came running, and whispered something to the two of them, and they both nodded. 

"We have to go, but since you all were here I thought I'd get introductions out of the way, see you later Y/N," and both of them walked off.

"Where were we?" Azul mused.

"Jade thinks everyone is a science experiment," you said drily, causing Floyd to giggle next to you.

"Ah, yes. You're training officially begins now," Azul said with a smirk.

….

Despite the last second training, everything went off without a hitch. As predicted, you didn't have time to learn waitstaff things until after the grand opening, but Floyd was a surprisingly patient teacher.

Your waitstaff training was nice because it took your mind off things, like the fact you still weren't going home, or how empty the school seemed without the troublesome third years you'd come to befriend….or how lonely it felt not being able to see Vil everyday. 

You didn't want to think about that last one. It would be cruel of  you to have dashed his romantic affections and then turn around and be like, "Hey, I'm still not into you, but I miss you, so you should make time for me."

He'd reached out to you twice in that first month, asking you how you were, how Epel was handling his new position, how your potions grades were doing, but you couldn't bring yourself to have a long conversation with him.

"Shrimpy," Floyd pouted, rousing you from your thoughts. "You gotta focus on me, or you'll never learn how to fold the napkins properly." Then he grinned mischievously. 

"Although, I wouldn't mind being your teacher forever," he said slyly.

You laughed, and he brightened up again, and resumed showing you how to fold napkins, then proceeded to stand over your shoulder, and whisper encouragement while you showed what you learned.

"You're almost there, Shrimpy, you just gotta get those folds crisp," he brought his arms around you and directed your movements, leading to a perfectly folded napkin. You looked up at him, and noticed how close his face was, as he smiled softly at you.

"See?" He whispered, and he began to draw in closer, until…

"Y/N!" Someone shouted your name, running into the empty restaurant.

Startled you stood up, and missed Floyd's annoyed face, turning to see Epel running towards you, looking horrified.

"I just got a call from Rook," he said, breathing heavily. "Somethin's happened ta Vil!"

....

Tag list- @stygianoir @da-disappointment @shytastemakerthing @iruiji

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twst vil

[darkwaveho]

Damage Control

Best friends forever

 This is an alternative to the main damage control story

Summary: Coming back from your morning jog things felt off when you entered your temporary apartment.

Parings: Platonic!Yelena Belova x reader, Natasha Romanoff x reader 

Warnings: 18+, Dark themes, cursing, violence, abuse, angst, toxic behavior, abandonment issues, kidnapping. 

Prev | Next

opening the door to your apartment you couldn’t wait to take a much-needed bath to soak your aching limbs. as you shut the door behind you. you stop in tracks as you spot the vodka bottle on the table. you don’t remember sitting that there, hell you don’t even remember buying it, but with everything that’s been going on you weren’t sure of anything that happened during the days. you slowly walk towards the kitchen area with your pepper spray keychain in hand before you actually stop and think. you need to get the hell out of here and ask questions later. 

your feet move quickly towards the front door before you suddenly get yanked back by your hair. “Ah” you place your hands on your head somehow thinking it would ease the pain.

“Hey, bestie.” Yelena speaks with no emotion present on her face. for the first time in forever you couldn’t read her. “Lena?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn awkwardly to look at her properly. she releases her hold on your hair and hums. “Yup, that’s me.” she tilts her head curiously. “I came here looking for my best friend, but I can’t seem to find her.” she steps closer to you invading your space. “Because all I see in front of me right now is a backstabbing bitch that only thinks and cares about herself. that’s not my bestie.”

“Yelena, I’m-” she holds her hand up signaling for you to stop talking, she didn’t want to hear it right now. she grabs your arm harshly and leads you to the table.

“Let’s drink.” she smirks as she gathers the glasses and positions them on the table. “Ya know for my prison release!” she says the last few words loudly. “You look cute, real relaxed and refreshed. you’ve been some where tropical? I love the tan.” she glances at you while opening the bottle you still haven’t said anything to her. what could you possibly say? this was way past the point of a simple apology. 

“I didn’t get much sun light in solitaire confinement.” well, now you felt like even more of a shitty friend. you really didn’t think about what would happen to yelena but you needed to get out. the glass bottle slams loudly on the table when she’s done pouring a generous amount of the vodka in both glasses before she looks up at you. “Sit down.” she points to the chair sat opposite to her as she sits in the chair. it takes a second for you to speak. “I’m good, I think I’ll stand.”

“Sit. Down. Now.” she kicks the chair out and it scrapes loudly against the tiled floor. You think about it for a moment would really be able to outrun her? She probably has Clint and Bucky somewhere around your apartment. “I came alone.” She answers your questions for you. You raise an eyebrow at her not fully believing her. Not fully believing Natasha would send her alone to bring you back. 

“I’m telling the truth.” she raises her hands up in surrender. You still eye her cautiously as you sit down in the chair. you both drink from your glasses. when you got done with the overfilled vodka glass, she filled it again. you were about to protest against it. “Drink.”

“Yelena-” 

“I said drink!” she slams her hand on the table and throws back the drink in one go. she roughly wipes her mouth before the remaining of the alcohol drip down her chin. “We’re celebrating, no?” you don’t defy her, you gag as you drink down your fourth glass of vodka, Yelena knew you were a heavy drinker at least not with hard liquor and nothing to chase it with. after the bottle is nearly empty, no words are said between you two this was beyond awkward. Yelena stares at you barely blinking while you shift uncontrollably under her hard gaze trying to focus on something to ground you. Seems like hours have passed when Yelena finally does speak. “When your father brought you back home what did you promise me?”

“Yelena, you have to understand.” she interrupts you as she bangs her fist on the table. “What did you promise me?” The calmness in her voice has disappeared. 

“That I would never leave.” She hums. And repeats it after you. “And what did you do?” 

“Lena-”

“What did you do!” 

“I-I left” 

“That’s right, you left. Not only did you leave but you turned us into the feds. You turned me into the feds! Who was there to help you when she got too rough with you? Hm? Me! That’s who. And this is the thanks I get? This how you treat your best friend who wanted nothing but to protect you and keep you safe.” 

“Yeah, keep me safe from everything and everyone except your psychotic sister!” She clenches her jaw with the insult of her sister. “My sister is complicated, but I know she loves you. Couples fight it’s what happens. don’t try to excuse your betrayal. It’s not a good look y/n.” she stands from the chair. “I could’ve helped you! All you had to do was tell me what was going on.” 

“There was no way you could’ve helped she knows that I’ll run to you. Then you would’ve had to fight your sister.” you follow her lead standing from your chair as well. Yelena was quick to reply. “And guess what? I would’ve fought her for you, but you didn’t even give me that chance.” her face looks defeated and sad. “You’re missing the point! you wouldn’t let me leave either and you know it, you’re much like your sister than you know.” she ignores the not-so-subtle dig at her clinginess. 

“Lena, I’m sorry, okay? I just really needed to get away from her.”

“And what about me? did you need to get away from me too?” she quickly responds back to you. “No, you were just collateral damage, I needed you to go down to make sure I had a chance to get away.” you inch closer to her as she lets her hostile emotions fade away. you bring her into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry.” she remains quiet but reciprocates the hug, it’s loose but she still embraces you, so you take what she’s willing to give right now. pulling away from the hug yelena is the first to speak.

“Our friendship is broken…it’s gonna take time to repair it.” You can agree on that. Yelena was big on trust, and you really don’t want to lose your best friend. “Okay, we can work on building our bond back.” you nod in agreement. “Mmhm.” she hums in agreement with you, but something was still off. before you knew it, she pulled out a short metal rod and cracks your knee. You fall to the ground in agonizing pain.

“Perhaps we can repair it within the same time that your bone will need to recover.” She drags you by the door by the collar of your shirt. “Yelena, please, don’t take me back there.” your lip trembles as you look up at her angry figure. 

“You should have come to me!” You fight against her hold as much as you can but nothings effective. “If you take me back to her, you’re no better than her and I swear I’ll fucking hate you for the rest of my life!” You spit the words out at Yelena with such disgust and venom it caused a switch to go off on her brain. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She kicks your wounded knee. you grunt in agonizing pain as you scramble to get back on your feet. “All of this is your fault!” she kicks you in the stomach while you were still on ground. yanks your hair back. “You’re gonna hate me? I should fucking hate you!” 

“You did this!” she knocks your head against the wood door. “Do you have any idea what I went through in there?” 

“I couldn’t even see my sister!” 

“I barely ate in that hellhole, and it was all because of you! you dragged me into whatever conflict you and Natasha in your relationship, that wasn’t fucking fair y/n!” She stops her movements for a moment, as she yells in your face. you quickly mutter your apology once again. it’s no use she not interested in an apology she’s interested in getting even and making you suffer the same way she did. “Yelena, please.” your voice comes out broken and shaky.

“Do you think I want to do this to you?” She bangs your head against the door a few times before she locks eyes with you. she restricts your airways with the death grip she has around your neck. You frantically tap her shoulders hoping it would get her to release you. “Lena-I can’t. Pleas-“ It only adds more pressure against your throat. “Shut up! I hate you for making me do this to you!” Hot and angry tears fall from Yelena’s eyes on to your face. “All you had to do was talk to me. why didn’t you come to me?” she was spewing a wild range of emotions that you couldn’t keep up with. you frantically kick your feet trying to squirm away from her, it didn’t seem like she would be letting you go anytime soon. maybe she really was going to kill you.

“If I have to side with my sister to make sure you never leave me again, then that’s what I’ll have to do.” That’s the last thing you hear before everything turns dark. 

----------

the next time you open your eyes you feel your body being dragged. you faintly hear voices talking and you recognize them instantly Yelena, bucky and clint. she lied. she didn’t come to get you alone but she’d rather it be her rather than one of the others.  slowly looking around to scope the scenery you come up empty when you spot a glassed box. most likely a holding cell but upgraded. you can see a showering area, a bed, if you could even call it that. you’re sure you would get more comfort from a worn-out motel mattress than that thing piece of cloth. clint enters a code on the keypad, you’re too dazed to even try to memorize the numbers. it probably didn’t matter anyway. Natasha’s smart enough to not have a keypad on the other side with you. 

the sound peeps and the doors slide open. you land harshly on the concrete ground within the holding cell. you scream in pain as you feel the sensation of your knee. you don’t think it was broken but it was much more than a bruise. they all stare at you and wonder whose gonna be the one to break the silence this time. or would they skip it and just beat you down like they did regular citizens on a regular basis. 

“Let’s go.” yelena breaks it and you don’t know if you should thank her right now because you saw a slight twitch in bucky’s fingertips as if her was nearly on the furge of having his fist collide with your face. yelena was the last one to walk towards the door but she stops when the new recruit interrupts her. 

“Actually, she sent me down here to tell you guys she’ll be arriving shortly.” yelena nods her head and the recruit flees out of the room and up some stairs. you know those stairs. this wasn’t a random place; this was literally the basement. she redecorated down here for two months knowing she would catch you at some point. 

“Fuck.” you curse under your breath as you clutch your forehead it started pounding from the trauma you faced in your apartment. you pull your hand back when you feel the mix of warm and a dried substance coming from your forehead. you were bleeding. she let you bleed all the way from your apartment to here. without treating it properly. you look up to see yelena’s eyes looking right back at you. she looked regretful for a moment but on for a split second. you move your focus back towards the door when you hear faint footsteps approaching the cell. you held your breath and jet your jaw when you finally saw her standing in the doorway. if you thought you went through hell with yelena that was nothing compared to the meeting you had with the devil standing in front of you right now. 

#damage control au #yelena belova x platonic!reader #mob!nat #natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x reader #dark!yelena belova #dark!natasha romanoff

[intothemysticfic]

E.O.L: First Date (NCT 127)

Evolution of Love Series

Taeil sent you a message the same day you gave him your number. The giddy feeling of butterflies in your stomach makes you feel like a high schooler again. When he asks you if you'd like to have dinner with him, you send back an agreement without hesitation. You don't feel embarrassed by how quickly you replied because you're so excited. That excitement turns to nerves as the day of the date arrives, and you find yourself fretting over what to wear. Clothes lay abandoned on the floor, and potential outfits lay spread on the bed. You want to make a good impression, and you want to wow him, but at the same time, you don't want to look desperate, or like you're trying too hard. Those contradicting thoughts mean you find fault with every outfit. In the end, you're startled by a knock on your door and throw on the pick with the fewest pieces so you can quickly throw it on. You are out of breath when you make it to the door. "Sorry!" You blurt, worried that he'll be upset about having to wait, then cringing at how rude you must seem because you didn't even greet him properly. "I mean - hi. Hello. You look really handsome. I'm sorry it took me so long to open the door." An easy smile stretches across his face, and relief floods through you. "It's okay. It's my fault for being early. I've just been really excited about tonight." "Me too," you let out in breathless relief. He takes you to dinner; the restaurant is super nice. Like upscale and stupid expensive nice. It makes you nervous, but Taeil's easy smile and kind gestures keep you grounded. Taeil is even nicer than the restaurant, with its chandeliers and too many pieces of cutlery. He opens the car door for you and pulls your chair out. He asks dozens of questions about you and seems genuinely interested in the answer. He even tells silly dad jokes that make you laugh. Taeil walks you to your door like a gentleman and gives you a single kiss. Good night. "I'd love to take you out again." "Yeah. Yes. I'd love that too." Privately, to yourself, you think you might already love him a little bit too.

"Since you've already fallen for me, would you like to go see the lights in the city?" You scoff to cover your laugh, "I fell on the ice."

He nods, "Sure, sure."

You wonder only briefly if it's a good idea before stating, "Well if we're going to see the lights together, shouldn't I at least know your name?"

"I'm Johnny, and you are?" You tell him your name before letting him lead the way.

Every year for winter, the city puts up stunning light displays. Laughter comes easy with Johnny. The only thing more beautiful than the lights is how they reflect in his eyes. "It's pretty cold out; let me buy you a coffee." He offers, nodding to the shop across the street. You agree easily. Long after the coffee is gone, when you finally tell him you should get going, he says," I really had fun on our date; let me have your number so we can do it again." "Date?" You question, slightly surprised by the forwardness. Maybe you shouldn't be. "Romantic walk, coffee, date." You laugh, nodding along, and hand over your phone. No point in arguing when you're happy with the outcome.

Appreciating the artwork with Taeyong standing next to you is hard because you admire him instead. He's so handsome you just can't help yourself. Still, you try to focus since he seems to like the different pieces. The conversation comes easy, and you learn even more about him. He seems just as interested in learning about you.

"Can I buy you dinner," he asks when you reach the exhibit's end, "I don't want to say goodnight yet." It's like he read your mind because you'd been dragging your feet the closer you got to the exit, not wanting the night to end. He takes your hand with a laugh when you nod eagerly. It makes your heart flutter. The sound is just as beautiful as the rest of him.

An Early morning hike wouldn't have been your pick for a first date, but you figure a guy with a smile as sweet as Yuta's couldn't be a serial killer. Right? Of course not, you reassure yourself as you tie the laces on your boots that had been gathering dust in your closet. You're surprised by how much fun you have with Yuta trekking through the woods. The two of you swap jokes and silly faces, and as morning nears afternoon, you find yourself splashing in the creak like a little kid. You're sad when the trial ends. But you believe him when he says, "We should do this again. I'll call you."

It had taken you a couple of days to get up the courage to message the number Doyoung had given you. Talking yourself in and out of messaging him multiple times. You pace, waiting for him to message you back. When he does, he admits, "I was starting to worry. You should get a coffee with me to make up for it."

You agree quickly, asking when. It startles you when he replies with, "Now."

You clarify. "Right now?"

"Yeah, I've already been waiting days." And you guess that's true, so you agree. You find over coffee that you really enjoy riling him up, and he seems to enjoy the same. Fluctuating between embarrassment and teasing throughout the day.

You gnaw at your lips while holding up two shirts in the mirror. "This is all your fault. You know that, right?" You question the dog sitting behind you. You swear she's grinning at you like she's pleased that everything is going according to plan. And maybe it is. What do you even wear on a date with someone as attractive as Jaehyun? You groan. If it hadn't been him explicitly calling it a date, you would swear that Lola had stolen his heart. But he had. Called it a date, that is.

You let the shirt in your left-hand fall to the floor, keeping the other to put on. Lola barks from behind you. "Yeah, yeah," you grumble, knowing you'll be late if you don't leave soon. "Let's go to the park, girl." Jaehyun is waiting by the entrance, and you almost miss him with his snapback on, but he calls out to you. "I got us smoothes," he explains, holding a pink drink toward you.

"Thanks."

For the first time around Jaehyun, Lola is on her best behavior. Except when she trips you, and Jaehyun has to catch you. You both laugh about it even though the embarrassment is eating you alive. He stays close to you after that. "In case you fall again." And you know that you are already so gone on this guy.

You'd been pretty pleased when Jungwoo had suggested an arcade date. It sounded fun, and you figured there would be enough to distract him from how awkward you could be. You hadn't considered the opportunities it would present for getting close. He would stand behind you, wrapping his hand around yours to help you during a game. He pouts as the plush falls from the claw back down into the pit of other plushes. "It's okay." You tell him, finding it terribly cute. "But I wanted to win one for you so you'd have something to remember tonight by."

"Trust me, Jungwoo, I won't forget tonight." You mean it.

Mark is soaked as he gnaws on his lips, the outdoor mini golf date he'd planned ruined because of the rain. "You could come back to my place," you offer, "I could make us dinner." And normally, you wouldn't let a guy you didn't know well anywhere near your place, but you figure if Mark wanted to take advantage of you, he would have done it that night he put you in a cab. You blame it on how adorable he looks, hair plastered to his forehead.

His eyes light up, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but we’ll have to go shopping first." You think a first date shouldn't feel this domestic, but it's so easy to fall into step with Mark, to joke with him. Debating the best movie snacks and filling a card full of groceries with him feels natural. Cooking with him feels like something you do every night and not like holding out a spoon full of sauce for an almost stranger to taste.

It's just as easy to curl into his side for a movie. And when the credits roll, he says, "We should do this again." You're unsure how to tell him it feels like you could do this every night for the rest of your life, so you just say, "Yeah, that would be great."

You're not sure why you agreed to karaoke. You're glad you did. Haechan spends most of the night acting silly, never trying too hard. And you have no shame, so you don't hesitate to belt out every line. The alcohol helps, and you pelt him with snacks when he gets carried away. The clock on the wall reminds you that your time is running out.

He picks a love song. His voice is heavenly, to the point that you can't bring yourself to throw anything at him. Instead, listening intently. As the song ends, you tease, "A little early for that, don't you think?" Faking being unimpressed.

"Should I be singing about a first kiss instead?" He questions, leaning in close. You pull back, but god, you don't really want to. "Maybe on our second date."

"Oh, we're going out again?"

"You don't want to?" He's grinning as he shrugs, "We'll see." You both laugh. God, you hope there's a second date.

#nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct fanfic

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Tydii fluff please

me? writing? sus

~~

The report in Saedii's hand was so dull. The dullest. Her eyes tracked the same line over and over, her mind wandering to all her distractions, namely the noise Tyler and Lae were making as he tried to put her to bed. And the fact she could not leave the couch to join them due to the very large bump of her pregnant belly. Instead, she puts her report down on said bump and listens to her Be'shmai and daughter.

Tyler was reading Lae some children's book about dragons and mermaids and he was doing an excellent job at giving the characters voices that had her daughter giggling, a sound that never failed to make Saedii smile either.

"and every creature in the land, tall and small, began to yawn and say goodnight, before lying down and saying nothing at all. The end," Tyler finishes the book. Lae makes a disappointed 'aw' sound.

"Another story?" their daughter asks and Saedii just knows without seeing her that Lae is making her best puppy dog eyes to get around her dad.

"You've already had two," Tyler says. Saedii can feel Lae pout through the walls.

"Mummy read me three yesterday," Lae says and Saedii grins. Of course Lae would know that competition is the next best motivator after the eyes.

"Nice try, kiddo, but I read you your stories yesterday. How about three tomorrow. Your dad needs time to prepare the voices, you know?" he says and Saedii knows her daughter is making that tilted expression she makes when she's considering something.

"Promise I can have three tomorrow?" Lae asks

"Pinky promise, Lae."

"Okay!" Lae accepts. Saedii hears some shuffling that tells her Lae is being tucked in. "Night daddy," Lae whispers.

"Goodnight, princess Lae," Tyler says.

Saedii hears the door click shut a moment later and then Tyler walks down the hall and joins her in the living room.

"Three stories tomorrow, huh?" Saedii asks as Tyler joins her on the couch, kissing her forehead and moving her report, his hand coming to rest on her stomach instead.

"Kid's a born negotiator, I don't know what to tell you," he shrugs and Saedii snorts.

"Just admit she has you wrapped around her finger," she says and Tyler smiles, leaning in to kiss her slowly, purposefully.

"Maybe, but she'd be a lot easier to say no to if she didn't have those eyes of yours," he says, lips not far from hers, his eyes so pretty she can't help but blush.

Under his hand, Saedii's bump moved a little as it's occupant kicked. Tyler's eyes moved away from hers and he grins as their baby kicks again harder. Tyler's grin falters a little when Saedii groaned at the next kick.

"Oh, this kid better be cute enough to justify kicking me," she whispers and Tyler laughs a little at that.

"They're just saying hello to their dad. Hey buddy," Tyler directs to her bump, which reacts again. Saedii pushes Tyler's hand off her belly and replaces it with her own.

"Hey baby, do you reckon you could stop kicking me? Kick your dad once you're out in the world," she whispers, waiting a second and then sighing in relief when another kick doesn't come.

"I hope they look like you," Tyler admits after a bit. Saedii doesn't respond for a second, instead gently raising one of her legs, a silent request. Tyler pulls her foot on to his lap and gently begins to massage.

"I want them to have your hair and jaw, my eyes and nose," Saedii counters.

"Something wrong with my eyes and nose, Saeds?" Tyler asks.

"Eye, singular," she corrects, making him roll his eyes. He doesn't respond further, turning his focus to properly massaging her feet. She leans back against the arm of the couch and lets him work until her eyes are drooping closed.

Eventually, when she's on the edge of sleep, she feels him rise from the couch and wrap his arms around her. He picks her up (with impressive ease considering her size at 7 months pregnant) and she feels herself being carried and placed on their bed.

Tyler strokes her hair back and presses a kiss to her forehead before climbing into bed behind her and wrapping around her.

"Sleep, love," he whispers. And with an uncharacteristic lack of arguing, she does just that.

~

*peace sign*

#saedii gilwraeth #tyler jones #aurora cycle