#<— voice of a man who’s doing this for fanfic he might not even ever finish or publish

[radioactivecatboy]

Claps and cheers and weeps with relief when I open the Tang Dynasty page on wikipedia and find a subsection for clothes. Sobs and wails and pounds my fists on the floor when it’s only six sentences long.

[cryb4byem]

Purgatorium

Kyojuro Rengoku x ArrangedMarriage! Reader

My first fanfic ever omg!

cw: 15.1k words, canon typical violence/injury, alcoholism, parental emotional abuse/neglect

divider by @saradika-graphics :)

You feel as though you might as well be merchandise as you approach the Rengoku Estate with your father. But you knew this would happen a long time ago. 

The sound of an angry voice from over the high walls that surround the house like a fortress sends a shiver down your spine as you think with horror, “Is that him? Rengoku Kyojuro?” 

You turn the corner to finally enter the expanse of property that had been home to generations of Flame Hashiras dating back to the Sengoku Period, you know this, you’ve been here before after all. Your heart is in your throat, you’re about to see the man who was chosen to be your husband when you were still a child after a decade of close to no communication.

Your mind drifts back to when you came here first. You had just turned ten, the same age as the eldest son of the Rengoku family, to one day assume the role of Flame Hashira from his father and become the head of the household. You had always been shy, not one to interact with strangers, but he had been so warm, much like flame itself. 

After some discussion, your respective parents agreed that a marriage between the two of you would be mutually beneficial to both families, and just like that, your hand was promised in marriage when you reached adulthood. The whole day was hazy in your mind now, but Kyojuro’s bright smile and lively voice still appear vividly in your memory. 

You wonder if he still had them, or maybe he was the source of the enraged noises you had heard as you drew closer. Even if it was him, it didn’t matter. You had to do this. Your family was one of well-repute, and it knew it could only stay that way with a strong strategic marriage every generation. This engagement was seen as just that. Not to mention, they were well aware that your tie to the Rengoku would open their ample pursestrings from centuries of Flame Hashiras. 

You say a brief goodbye to your father, and enter the gates. The younger Rengoku son stands in the doorway of the home, impossible to miss thanks to the unmistakable hair and vibrant hued eyes that run through the men of the family. 

The young man spoke politely, “Welcome, we hope your travels here weren’t too strenuous. I’m the only one here at the moment, I apologize my brother is coming back from some work with the corps.” He looked down for a moment, “And my father is unfortunately… unable to see you at the moment.” He introduced himself as Senjuro and welcomed you into their home, offering refreshments and recounting the epic tale his brother’s crow reported transpiring the night before.

Senjuro spoke of how he bravely vanquished a demon wreaking havoc in a town over the mountain. From the grandiose language to how his previously placid tone elevated, it was clear he idolized his brother. You act piqued courteously, however truly you don’t really have the understanding of demons or swordsmen to comprehend what kind of a task he had accomplished. Your chest felt hollow even as you tried to look composed, your mind spinning, overcome with nerves. A flurry of what ifs make up a cacophony in your thoughts, you may as well be meeting the man you were expected to raise children and share your life with for the first time in mere moments. 

Your ears perk at the sound of the coarse gravel covering the walkway crunching beneath heavy footsteps, indicating someone approaching. The shoji door lightly drags against the floor as its opened by a firm grasp. One look, and there was no question who it was. A matured spitting image of Senjuro stood before you in corps uniform, with the same warm smile you recall seeing as a child. 

An upbeat voice engulfs the room, “Hello! It’s been many years! I do hope you are well.” Minding your manners, you bow and reply as you’ve been instructed, “Thank you Rengoku-sama, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” 

He takes your shoulders and gently lifts you out of your bow to an upright position, “Oh please, no need for that! It’s Kyojuro!” His tone rings out a cross between assertive and cheerful, quite authoritative but deeply optimistic.Your eyes widen with shock at how casual he was being, you had yet to see a husband who treated his wife as such an equal before.

You don’t even know what to make of the man standing before you. He seemed nice enough, he was your age, he was attractive, not to mention highly motivated in a noble occupation, coming from what you knew from other arranged marriages, this was not a given. 

On paper, he might’ve been “perfect,” but you still felt skeptical. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you both were pawns, both being used for the gain of others. You were strangers to each other. Based on what you had seen of other similar matches, there was a chance the rest of both of your lives together would be nothing more than what it began as, a business exchange. 

You had gotten too lost in your own thoughts, it was apparent. Kyojuro’s bold gaze met yours that had been lingering on the floor for too long. His voice lowered to an inflection of sincerity. Kyojuro reigned in some of his fervor from moments ago, hoping he had not scared you with his temperament which has been called various things ranging from cheerful to overzealous. He slowly reached into his pocket to pull out a long rectangular box. 

“Although, I admit I do not know you very well. You once told me how you liked the plum blossoms.” Suddenly you remember, sitting on the grass outside while the adults spoke, with Kyojuro picking up fallen flower petals and timidly saying how beautiful you found them. 

You look at him with slight surprise at his memory of an event you all but forgot, and curiosity where he was going with this. “Please look inside, I hope it is to your liking.” Kyojuro says earnestly, passing the box to your hands. 

You open it to find a hairpin adorned with the same color of petals from that day. The hairpin resembled them so closely it looks as though it could’ve been the very same blossoms crystallized into an accessory. 

The gesture was so thoughtful, and not to mention unexpected. Kyojuro looked at you intently, clearly waiting for a response to his gift, any response. “This is simply lovely, Ren—Kyojuro. Thank you.” You say after a moment. Making your best effort to not let on your overwhelm, and your reluctance to find comfort in such an inherently uncomfortable situation. 

Kyojuro says while taking your hands in his own much tougher ones to remove the hairpin from your grasp. “Allow me,” he asks respectfully. Understanding what he means, you tilt your head to the side for him to gently slide it into the side of your hairstyle. Your eyes dart up and down, unable to make eye contact, as you feel the cool metal against your scalp, and the heat emanating from his touch. With a soft smile he spoke reassuringly, “This will be an adjustment, but I believe we can find happiness together.” 

He knows as well as you do the origins of your marriage, he knows that his father was urged to retire (rather dishonorably) once he began excessively drinking. The last straw being once it was discovered, by the Master as well as his fellow pillars, he was attending high-stakes missions completely intoxicated. 

The Breath of Flames was intricately woven into the very existence of the corps. There had never been a generation of pillars that did not have a user of Flame or Water, and surely the Rengokus wouldn’t allow that tradition to be broken. So, the eldest son of the former pillar quickly satisfied all prerequisites, and assumed the mantle sooner than anyone anticipated to take his father’s place as the Flame Hashira. 

Kyojuro knew as well as you, the good to the Rengoku name that would come from another successful marriage with a well bred young lady of a respected family. Duty was no foreign concept to him, but he cannot help but recall back to his early memories of joy he saw in the life his parents built together. He wants the same for himself naturally, even with the weight of expectation resting heavily on his shoulders.

But all the same, he can remember sitting on the grass with you a decade before. The delight radiating off your face at the simplest things, he’d like to see that in you now. He can tell you are guarded, but with some time, maybe he’ll get a glimpse again.

The days leading up to your wedding, ten years in the making, go by in a blur. Kyojuro had to work for several of them since he planned to take off for his wedding proceedings. You spent your time engaging in small talk with Senjuro, writing letters home to each relative letting them know you had arrived safely and were in the care of the Rengoku family now, or simply walking the expanse of the property. Slow, uneventful minutia, at best. 

The elusive father, Rengoku Shinjuro, still yet to be seen by you, for whatever reason. Before you knew it you had both signed the license papers making you officially the lady of the Rengoku house. This all seemed to move at a breakneck speed, and as soon as you left the ceremony to move into a separate residence from the main house on the estate with your now husband, you remembered what came with your new position. 

Would Kyojuro expect you to sleep together since it was your wedding night? Would you have to start giving birth to heirs as soon as possible? While you understood the whole reason you were brought here in the first place was to become his wife, you wondered if it all had to be so quick. You had barely been here a week, and had been with Kyojuro even less than that. 

You shuddered at the idea that your fate  was to be stripped of any sense of agency, and relegated to a vehicle for continuing the Rengoku line. But at this point, you felt like your wants were no longer relevant. This is why you were sent off here, it was all part of the arrangement. You would have to just go along with it all. 

Kyojuro proudly took you inside the home on the Rengoku Estate set aside for you both  to live in. It was just across the courtyard from the main house with a view of the entire property. As the evening trailed into night, Kyojuro could see you out of the corner of his eye standing stiffly in the corner, looking at the floor with the same pensive look he had seen days ago. 

“How are you my dear?” he said in his usual upbeat tone looking at you with a genuine expression. “I’m alright…” you reply with a painfully forced smile that you hoped wouldn’t set off any alarms to Kyojuro about what you could possibly be dreading. “Oh I’m glad to hear that!” he beamed. 

“You know, I tend to work at night, usually coming and going at all kinds of unholy hours! If you want a place to rest on your own I set up the room next door for you! Feel free to stay there as often as you would like. I would not want to disturb you with my irregular schedule.” 

A wave of relief washes over you as you thank him and go into your own quarters for the night. As you walk in the outfitted room you notice a small vase off to the side, you realize it's a bundle of the same plum blossoms. 

A pang of guilt stops you before you can lay down to sleep, you had run out of the room to be alone a little abruptly. Kyojuro was considerate enough to give you a separate room to sleep in and even tried to decorate it how you might like it. 

Even if you resented the situation you found yourself in, Kyojuro was no more to blame than you were. You needed to have a little empathy. He was going through the same thing right now, he had just married what could be considered a stranger himself. 

Popping your head in the other room to say something, you realize you had walked in just as Kyojuro removed his top. Not fazed by this a bit, he turned to look at you with his saying “Yes my dear?” in his usual tone. 

You could see his muscular arms and chest leading down to his prominent abs followed by a chiseled v-line at the edges of your vision. You felt naive for a moment, had you expected him to be the same little boy you met all those years ago? For some reason in your head when you thought of him, that was still the person you saw. He had matured into a man, and not only that, was one of the nine elite weapons of the Demon Slayer Corps. 

You refrained from making this awkward unnecessarily, you should’ve announced yourself or done something before just appearing in his doorway after making it clear you wanted to be by yourself. If you made it obvious you were gawking at him, it would just make things weird. No, worse, it would make it inappropriate. 

You simply smile, a real genuine smile this time. “Uh, thank you, truly. Good night.” 

Smiling sweetly, he replied “Oh, of course, good night darling.” Feeling somewhat foolish, you sheepishly return to your room next door to turn in for the night.

 As you laid down studying the gifted hairpin in your hands, tracing your fingers over it, you felt a sense of hope? Like somehow, someway, this might all work out? Kyojuro returned to what he was doing with a sense of accomplishment, he finally got to see you smile with that delighted look, for the first time. 

—————————————

The next day, Kyojuro returned to work. Such is the expectation of a hashira. You rose around dawn to look out in the courtyard to see Kyojuro awake, already sword in hand. His motivation really was commendable, it was known that he stopped receiving formal training from his father as a child and relied on historical texts to learn the art of Flame Breathing. Since then, he had taken his training upon himself, and rose to the rank of hashira with practically no outside help. 

After noticing Kyojuro still completing his intense regimen after a few hours, you casually watched while reading at a safe distance across the courtyard. You slightly jump when you hear a gruff voice from behind you, you recognize it, it was the same rage filled one you heard the first day you arrived. It can only be the former Flame Hashira, Rengoku Shinjuro. 

“The Rengoku men really take after each other in appearance,” you think to yourself upon seeing the same features possessed by both Senjuro and Kyojuro. “I was a bit surprised you went through with this. But I suppose you seem like the type to just go along with things. I bet you even told yourself it's your duty or something like that. We’ll see how far that gets you” he said to you bluntly. 

“You’ll learn soon enough that the life of a Hashira isn’t some noble samurai existence. It’s a miracle when they all live long enough for the next appearance of the Master. The shadow of death follows them everywhere they go.” He took a long swig of sake, before muttering, almost incoherently. “Probably follows everyone around them too…”

This was definitely one of the more uncomfortable ways to be introduced to your father in law. “Do you even care for my son?” he followed up with. You didn’t know what to make of his first statement, the Rengoku were a long line of fierce warriors, clearly the ���shadow of death” didn’t loom them too closely. What did he even mean by that? As for the second statement, you had hoped it wasn’t as obvious as it may seem, but you hardly even knew Kyojuro. Of course you married him for the good of your family. Did you care for Kyojuro? Was he asking if you loved him? Is it possible to truly love someone given the circumstances? 

“Whatever. I really don’t give a damn. It’s none of my concern anyway.” Shinjuro said, walking away. Your pause might’ve been an answer enough, or maybe it was your expression that always tends to betray you. You knew you shouldn’t ponder the words of an inebriated person for long, but the question stuck in your mind for the rest of that day. There was no requirement to love him so long as you filled your duty as his wife, anything in addition to that was at your discretion alone. 

—————————————

Not long after, the pillars were all called from their respective regions and responsibilities for a semi-annual meeting. The hub of the Demon Slayer Corps buzzed with a particularly lurid tale. News of an alleged benevolent demon, being carried and protected by a young slayer, spread like wildfire. Even a civilian like yourself could see the conflict of interest there. Apparently, the slayer was summoned by the Master himself, and was to appear before all nine Hashira.

You were relieved that there was something more exciting to be gossipped about than the latest rumors surrounding the ever-popular Flame Hashira’s personal life. After their meeting, which had clearly left an impression considering the looks on faces, Kyojuro began introducing you to some of his colleagues. Among the first was a fellow pillar, Uzui Tengen, whom he considered his closest friend. You don’t think you had ever met a bigger person before. You thought Kyojuro was tall and brawny, but he was dwarfed by the Sound Hashira. 

“Uzui, this is my dear wife” he gestured to you with pride, that same glowing look he always had. “Oh so you're the flashy bride! I’ve heard a lot about you.” Those words made you pause for a moment, what did he mean by this? Had Kyojuro said how you refused to share a bed with him? Had he talked about how frigid you acted? 

"I have to say, Rengoku," he began, a knowing glint in his eye, "you really undersold her. She’s even more ‘lovely’ than you described, if that’s possible!" Speaking through his teeth with a smirk he added, “No wonder you’re satisfied with one.” 

Kyojuro laughed, bold and vibrant as ever. “You are too kind! My heart is truly filled to the brim!” Eager to return a retort, clearly relishing in banter on the topic of the number of wives the Sound Hashira possessed.

“Indeed you are correct. I suppose I was not able to do her justice with words alone, but, at least I gave you a notion of what to expect. I’m sure you recall my bewilderment when, after I introduced myself, and then proceeded to do so two more times when another, and then yet another wife stepped out.” You let out a soft chuckle, trying to hide the blush that crept up your cheeks. The warmth of Kyojuro’s joy was infectious, and you could feel your heart racing as he caught your eye. His bright smile widened, and you couldn’t help but smile back, even as a blush colored your cheeks.

You walk the grounds of the hub of the Demon Slayer Corps talking to whomever Kyojuro could borrow for a moment. Meeting people was not your forte, old habits die hard you suppose. It was relieving to be with someone so easily able to light up a room. 

Something about being proudly introduced by your personable husband gave you a sense of security. You were happy to be able to just smile and do the bare minimum of talking to the onslaught of strangers. Kyojuro almost felt like a shield of charisma and positivity to hide how socially awkward you felt, and deflect those unwanted questions. 

Especially since there were definitely some intimidating individuals around here. You were happy their enemies were the demons, never did you want to find yourself on the other end of any of their blades. 

With each person you met, you found yourself inching closer and closer to Kyojuro. This didn’t go unnoticed, and he couldn’t help but get a flutter in his chest seeing you blushing and getting closer and closer to pressing yourself against his chest. 

Eventually when walking, you gently took his four calloused fingers in your hand subconsciously. He paused and turned to you, “Here, if I may” he said with earnestness.

Kyojuro entwined your fingers, his grip secure yet gentle, and as you resumed your walk, his thumb began to stroke the back of your palm. There was an innocence and tenderness in this simple gesture, a quiet reassurance that spoke volumes. He seemed to sense your anxiety, and with each soothing caress of his thumb, it felt as if your worries were slowly melting away, replaced by an enveloping comfort.

—————————————

One thing you quickly learned about Kyojuro was that he was a creature of habit, and you soon saw yourself following suit. You had begun nonchalantly sitting in a usual spot at the edge of the courtyard with a direct view of where Kyojuro did his daily conditioning. Rain or shine, he would be out there honing his techniques and maintaining his fitness. 

You preferred when it was bright out, the radiating light off the sheen of sweat on the surface of his skin was a sight indeed. Something about it was so fitting. He seemed to have a perpetual glow about him anyway, his energy taking on a visible manifestation seems like it was that way it was always meant to be.

He wasn’t always alone in his training. Nearly every pillar came by at least once, some more outgoing than others. Kyojuro’s former tsuguko, The Love Hashira, Kanroji Mitsuri, had even fawned over you as if she was meeting a celebrity. Absolutely bubbling with compliments over how “cute” you both were. You were happy to not be seen as the icy girl you feared everyone, including Kyojuro, saw you as. Upon hearing this comment, you glanced over at him to see a slight hue of red over the top of his cheeks?  Was he actually blushing? No, you thought, it’s probably just warm out. You doubt he feels any way in particular about you yet.

Soon you realized you were reading and sketching less and less each day, and watching Kyojuro instead. In addition to the pillars joining him for spars and exercise, Senjuro also took part as well. Kyojuro had no official tsuguko at the moment, but he seemed prepared to give this role to his younger brother. 

Senjuro wasn’t quite strong or skilled enough for a blade, but with a wooden stick he would do his best to copy his brother’s demonstration of each form of Flame Breathing. You were no master, but there was something obviously missing in Senjuro’s understanding of swordsmanship. Kyojuro’s movements carried so much power and fluidity through them, but no matter how he slowed them down and simplified them, Senjuro couldn’t seem to catch on. 

Despite this, Kyojuro never looked disappointed or faltered in his passion for instructing him. Whenever Senjuro asked to practice with him, Kyojuro gladly took long breaks in his own regimen to try to correct Senjuro and encourage him with insightful pointers. 

Senjuro wasn’t oblivious to his own ineptitude. One day after leaving his brother to resume his own training, he walked past where you sat watching as you always did looking especially dismayed. You felt as though you should say something to the young boy, he was your brother in law after all. 

“Your swings are looking more and more like Kyojuro’s every day” you say as he passes. Senjuro stopped, pitifully turning to face you as if he had gotten caught doing something wrong, “I’m not sure about that, but thanks. I need to spend more time practicing...” 

You frown slightly, “I see you spend lots of time out here as it is, you don’t want to burn out.”

Senjuro responds with desperation in his tone, as if he had reason for shame. “If I can’t master this, there might be a day I need to carry on the title of Flame Hashira, but won’t be able to. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, my brother is the best teacher I could ask for.” You don’t know what to say, he clearly wanted this and was willing to work for it. But it was like he was trying to squeeze into a position that he couldn’t fit into, no matter how he tried. 

“I can tell he likes being able to see you while he’s out here. I catch him looking over here at you all the time. He really is a great teacher, you should ask to try one day. I think it would make him happy.” 

The dejected look on his face dissipated into resolve, “I’m going to work even harder until I’m as strong as my brother. Thank you for comparing me to him.” You were glad to be able to help him gain some confidence, but Kyojuro looked over at you often? Had he noticed how intently you had been watching him lately? 

The next time you sat in your usual spot at the edge of the courtyard, you did something you didn’t think you would do. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you were walking towards Kyojuro right now, but nevertheless you had approached him and gotten his attention in doing so. He was in the middle of his striking drills when he noticed you, his demeanor changed in an instant. 

He abandoned the formidable striking stance he was once in to an approachable posture, his brow furrowed once with concentration and lips curled into a pensive grimace snapped into his trademark look of unwavering joyfulness. 

“My wife!” He exclaimed. “Do you need anything dear?” His words were enough to take you aback for a moment. It still didn’t feel real to you, you wonder if he felt the same deep down. It was easy to forget you were actually married sometimes. It often felt like you were friends at best, all things considered. “If you aren’t too busy, would you teach me a little?” You said almost as if you expected him to decline your request. “You want to try? Oh absolutely!” He gestured you over, standing beside you as he passed his katana into your grasp. 

Upon his transferring the weight of the sword to you, it took you by surprise how heavy it was. Immediately the blade drooped sideways as you tried to keep it upright. When Kyojuro wielded his sword, he made it look as if it was another limb that he moved as easily as one could move any part of their body. Noticing your early difficulty, Kyojuro moved himself behind you to wrap his masculine battle worn hands over your own. 

Your own forearms between his own corded muscular forearms coming out of his rolled sleeves, their vascularity on full display to you. More intimate than that, you could feel the heat coming from his presence directly behind you. Kyojuro was careful not to completely press up against you, a gentleman through and through. But that didn’t change how flustered it made you to hear his voice, not wanting to shout while so close to you, he lowered himself close to your ear to speak much more softly than usual to instruct you. 

Using his strength to guide the blade in your hands, told you “Just start here and follow through the movement.” He paused for a moment to let you watch the sword's motion before continuing “Just like that, you’ve got it. Beautiful.” You copied the stroke once more with his help before trying it on your own.

“You might just have a career slaying demons if you keep that up! Ha ha!” His laugh rang out melodically, you understood why people enjoyed training alongside or under him. Hearing Kyojuro praise you even for the simplest thing made you feel so good, special even. “I’m proud of you, you did very well.” 

He told you with the same electric smile you recalled from the first time you saw him, you had seen it many times in the time you had spent watching him and in his presence. But something about it never got old. 

Feeling a sense of giddy as you walked up to the main house, you quickly came down when you heard the same negative gruff voice you knew belonged to your father in law. “I’m surprised you show yourself around here. Your family already got the money they sent you here for.”

He didn’t even make eye contact with you, focused on finding another bottle to get his fix. “You’re not obligated to spend time with him. The closer you get the harder it’ll be when he inevitably finds an early grave.” Shinjuro chuckled dryly, he seemed to want to hear what you had to say to that, a change considering he often speaks at you rather than to you. 

“I don’t see why you think that. He is very ski-“ you are cut off mid sentence abruptly, his tone rising from indifference. “Skill is something you’re born with. He tries to cheat this rule by training himself to the bone. No amount of work can ever supplement an absence of talent. His fate is decided. You getting attached will only make it harder when that fate comes to pass.” 

You were appalled by what you were hearing, wasn’t this man a hashira? He had to understand that a human is always at a disadvantage to a demon,  yet that does not stop the righteous fury that compels them to confront those monsters anyway. Innate ability is overcome by work all the time, otherwise how would a human ever beat a demon? 

The essence of the Demon Slayer Corps is finding strength through determination and will. Dismissing work ethic as a cheap short cut for those never meant to succeed was contradictory to everything it stood for. How did the man once celebrated as the greatest hashira of his generation end up like this? “You do whatever the hell you want, but I tried to warn you. It’s for the best that you didn’t marry him for love.” With this, Shinjuro got another jug of sake and returned to where he resided alone. 

—————————————

You had always known how taxing the work of the nine leaders of the Demon Slayer Corps was, but even you were taken aback when you realized how much was demanded of Kyojuro. He was not only a leader in spirit for the other slayers, but the one who was tasked with being aware of everything happening throughout his sector. 

Recently, he had learned about a village with a troubling incident involving a well, where someone had allegedly fallen in and vanished without a trace.  It seemed that only a few lower-ranked slayers had been sent to investigate, but Kyojuro insisted on going along personally.

He wanted to be involved in as many missions in his sector as possible; it helped the lower-ranked Corps members assigned to the incident feel more at ease, even if he was just there to stand by and ensure the extermination went smoothly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he set out to investigate. Taking off on foot to follow any traces, he suspected a blood demon art was the culprit. Now, he had been gone for what felt like over a full day. His absence was palpable, as if a swell of energy had been drained from the home.

As the late afternoon dragged into evening, you found Senjuro bags in hand coming through the gates. You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, and followed in suit.

 “Gone to the market? You could’ve asked me to go.” Being the elder of the two of you, it was only natural that such tasks would be your responsibility. You felt bad that unbeknownst to you he had gone on his own.

Senjuro washed his hands before unpacking the groceries he had bought, donning a kitchen apron. “Some years ago, Father dismissed all our housekeepers. So I pretty much take care of the chores and cooking around here, I’m so used to it I didn’t think to mention.” As the youngest Rengoku informed you, it started making sense. You had always wondered why the son of a wealthy noble family spent so much time doing household errands, he had adopted it as his role in the family. “I don’t mind though. As much as my brother loves to eat, he really can’t cook anything,” Senjuro said endearingly. 

“I try to have some food ready before he comes home from his duties, mainly because otherwise he’ll insist on helping, then end up making it all no matter how many hours he’s been working.” Senjuro put several large sweet potatoes in a loosely woven basket before submerging it into a wooden basin of fresh water, the dirt on the reddish-purple flesh coming off as he scrubbed them with a soft bristled tawashi brush. 

“But also because I think he is far better with a katana than a kitchen knife.” Senjuro shook his head with a soft chuckle. You could tell he had his fair share of miso saltier than the sea and gluey rice balls. 

As he worked, he moved to the stove, rinsing a measure of rice and putting it on to cook. The sound of water bubbling and the aromatic nutty scent on the steam filled the air.

“I’m a bit useless… but this is something I think I can do” 

Senjuro lifted the basket of sweet potatoes out of the basin, the remnants of Earth cleared from the skin, leaving them ready to be cooked. The furnace was already warm and simmering a main course, that had seemingly been cooking for hours, to compliment the carb rich Rengoku family favorite side dish. 

He had begun adding cubed bite-sized pieces of the starchy vegetables to a large pot to infuse the hearty taste into rice, before long the smell notified all that dinner was nearly done. When a roaring voice made Senjuro jump, leaving him clearly shaken to the core.

“Senjuro?! Where are you boy?”

The young man fumbled with the tie of his apron, frantically removing it, before scurrying off to the origin of the shout. You couldn’t help but overhear the conversation in the other room. 

“Where’s the damn sake I told ya t’get?” The voice barked angrily. The words slurred in a state of intoxication. Your father in law. No doubt. 

“I just thought maybe…” Senjuro replied sheepishly, trying desperately to keep the incident from escalating. 

“Can’t even do something as simple as buyin’ sake from th’ market, huh? Worthless.” Shinjuro’s seething rage turned into cold disdain. It was sickening. 

“Go back. Now! Don’t come back t’my house until you have some!” You couldn’t tell if Shinjuro was willing to make good on the threat he elucidated, but there was venom in his words nevertheless. 

Senjuro piped up timidly, speaking as though any word could and would lead to consequences. “B-but brother will be back soon… I need to finish making hi-” 

“I don’t give a damn! You will obey your father, boy!” The muddled speech from the alcohol was cut by Shinjuro’s fury, he bellowed clear as day.“He has someone else to do that anyway! It’s time you get a fucking life and stop worshiping that bastard!” You hear the door slide shut so forcefully you worry if it had broken.

Senjuro trudges by you with his head hanging low. You can see the glassiness of his eyes when he lifts his head to face you. Instinctually, you embrace him, holding his head as if you were his mother. As a tear escapes his eye, you wipe it away with your sleeve offering a warm smile that he halfheartedly returns after a moment. 

“I… have to go, but please finish up making brother’s satsumaimo gohan for me? And if he tries to help in any way, promise me you’ll make him sit down! He’s been gone since before dusk yesterday!” 

“Senjuro, you know I’m perfectly capable of sitting down and enjoying your cooking! But why not let me lend a hand while I’m already standing?” You felt the warmth of his presence, his charisma and energy igniting a sense of undeniable comfort. 

“Brother!” Senjuro’s face lit up with joy as he went over to greet Kyojuro, still standing in the doorway,  running to hug him with force that might’ve knocked over an average person. The boy had acted as though it had been months or years of separation the way he clung to Kyojuro, and rejoiced at seeing him standing in the doorway. Foolishly you had forgotten, or maybe just been illusioned by his nigh impenetrable invincibility, that the life of a demon slayer was one of uncertainty. Any time a swordsman left for work, might be their last. It certainly was something to be celebrated each time he returned home.

“Ha ha! Glad to see you are in high spirits Senjuro! Now what is this about needing to go somewhere?” Despite nearly 24 hours of fatigue weighing on him, Kyojuro’s vivacity was as potent as ever.

“Uh… Father has demanded I go and buy him more sake…”  

“Nonsense! We ought to all enjoy the fruit of your labors! Surely Father will understand.” Kyojuro reassured, resting his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Senjuro seemed to be at ease with his elder brother’s blessing. 

Turning to you, Kyojuro lowered to a knee, cradling your hand in his own grasp; the hardened hands of a warrior enveloped yours with a gentleness as though you were made of glass. His amber pools met yours before carefully bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a soft kiss, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Ah my flame!” His words were thick with affection, tenderness. 

You might as well have been electrocuted at the point where your skin connected with his lips. It made you think of what it would be like if you both…  You move such a thought from your head, “Welcome home, we’ve all missed you dearly.” You speak, basking in the bright glint in his eye upon hearing your greeting. He carried a scent of the woody musk with faint notes of smoke, no doubt indicating the remoteness he traversed on the way to the village, it was an essence befitting a man such as him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his golden hair was tousled and his features drawn with fatigue leaving shadows beneath his honey rimmed eyes, giving him a ruggedness you had yet to admire in its full glory yet. 

“Okay Brother! Now please just sit down! You need to rest!” Senjuro implored, his brother heeding his insistence. The younger boy took the lid off the sturdy pot to reveal the gigantic portion of sweet potato rice, a cloud of steam wafting out carrying an earthy, saccharine aroma. Senjuro pulled a decorated cloth from over another dish to reveal succulent soy glazed meat, it was truly a meal befitting a gourmand like Kyojuro. 

“Senjuro what a beautiful talent you have! Truly, what would we all do without you!” Senjuro’s delight at these words was palpable. The beratement received from his father not long ago, was seemingly replaced by Kyojuro's accolades. 

Looking out the doorway to the sliding door of the master bedroom, Kyojuro’s smile faltered momentarily. “It would be a shame for Father to miss this! Perhaps I'll inform him that I’m back!” Without hesitation Kyojuro stood from the table. 

—————————————

The noises of chatter within the kitchen sounded faint despite its proximity, his hardness of hearing only adding to the sense of anxiety and isolation as he steeled himself outside Father’s room. The irony was apparent. The title “hashira” alone struck terror in the hearts of horrible bloodthirsty monsters, despite their capacity for any amount of both power and unimaginable cruelty under the veil of night. Yet at this moment, in his own home, he found himself more uneasy than he ever had in the face of a demon. He could not hide behind years of discipline, victories, or raw strength. He felt as if he had become a small child again, simply seeking approval.

He hardly sensed any movement from within, exhaling sharply, sliding the door open to speak in a tone he consciously kept as even-keeled and humble as possible. His senses were overwhelmed with the pungence of undiluted alcohol.

“Father… I’ve returned.” 

The older man laid his back facing the door, surrounded by the emptied vases of sake, and did not turn, not even to acknowledge the presence of another. 

“Yeah? I could tell. I could probably hear you from the afterlife. Tch.” Shinjuro growled caustically, still refusing to meet his son’s gaze. 

“Would you care to join us for dinner, Father? Senjuro would certainly be happy to see you enjoying the meal he worked so hard on.” Kyojuro prayed for once he would say yes. He rarely left his room much less the house, hardly doing anything but drinking in solace. 

“I don’ give a damn about that. I told your fool of a brother to bring me sake, and of course even that is too difficult for him. Useless. Utterly useless.” 

“Please Father do not speak so-” 

“Get out. Stop disturbing me.” Shinjuro cut him off abruptly, haphazardly shaking each of the old bottles for anything left within.

Begrudgingly, Kyojuro began sliding the shoji door shut once again. 

“As you wish, Father…” 

With a small space left before the sliding door had completely shut, he remembered something. A message he was asked to pass on by a civilian he had met earlier.

“In the village I patrolled… another person recognized the family haori. They too, have asked me to thank you… for your time as the Flame Pillar…”  Kyojuro waited for what felt like forever, he needed to hear what his Father would say. Yet another living proof professing their gratitude to the passion that he once held. 

Setting down the empty bottle in his hand, Shinjuro sighed, even his breath marred with exasperation.

“It’s all meaningless…” 

“In the end, we’re both destined to be nothing more than failures. Pathetic until the very end.”

Kyojuro clamped his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to repel the spiteful words. It would not dampen his spirit, he couldn’t succumb to that. Not when he had so many people depending on him, they deserved better than that. The horrible things his father said were not worth thinking of another minute. Kyojuro slid the door back shut, softly as he could, before rising to return to the table. The light emanating from the kitchen beckoned him back like a vessel to the land after days of traversing a cold, bitter sea. 

Kyojuro entered once again to see his little brother and you inspect slices of the meat back and forth, before putting a few on a plate with an exceptionally large scoop of sweet potato rice. Senjuro presented the plate to him, his eyes shining with anticipation. 

“We’ve decided these are the best pieces of meat, here!”

You nod in agreement beside Senjuro, a smile curling your lips. “For me? Ah! Thank you!” Kyojuro beamed at them, taking the plate from his brother. The juicy pieces making his mouth water at the sight alone. Chatter, warm laughter over trivial things, the sight almost felt like a dream he would be shaken from at any minute. He cannot remember a time in so long the Rengoku household had felt alive, for so long it had been just him and Senjuro. Well, that was not quite accurate, they were not “alone” necessarily. 

 “It appears Father is not hungry at the moment, let us just put some aside for him for now.” Outfitting the unattended plate with a generous serving of food, he waited until you and his brother were distracted when he transferred the tender slices of meat from his own plate.

“Father does not eat nearly well enough. Perhaps this would benefit his health.” He thought silently to himself.

—————————————

You understood how things worked around here now. You had stopped feeling like a stranger around the estate. Senjuro seemed to really trust you now, especially seeing his idol did too. You abandoned the thought that the father of the house would be much of a presence, he didn’t want to be bothered, and frankly you were okay with that. 

Your job appearing as a member of the Rengoku family was in full effect. Of course, Kyojuro tried to make sure you were comfortable and happy, despite his duty keeping him busy. You sensed the guilt that creased his brow whenever he couldn’t see you, and made a conscious effort to make up for it when he did. You became aware of an annual festival to celebrate the transition of seasons, the late Spring entering early Summer. 

The next day, during one of Senjuro’s increasingly regular conversations with you, he brought up something that took you back for a moment. “About the festival tonight, I told my brother not to worry about me this year.” 

You were slightly taken aback by this, wasn’t it their yearly tradition? “I  think you both should go and have some time together. After all, I've had plenty of turns to go alone with my brother, since this would be your first time going. I insist.” 

Senjuro seemed sure of himself on this, you could guess he was trying to be an understanding brother and give Kyojuro some alone time with you. But you almost wanted Senjuro to go, it sounded silly, but this would be your first real date with your husband. 

Aas day waned into night you felt butterflies in your stomach while getting ready to go. You felt as if you would have to meet Kyojuro for the first time all over again. A whole night, just the two of you with no one to break the tension. 

You robe yourself in something presentable. Subconsciously you wondered what you could wear if you really wanted to catch his attention… You push it from your mind for now. You carefully remove the gifted hairpin from the rectangular box that housed it before sliding it into your hair.  Your hand moves down from your updo as you glance in the mirror, and suddenly you feel a jolt of shock upon hearing the upbeat voice you’ve grown to know approaching. 

You feel a soft tap on the sliding shoji door to your room. You rose and moved to open it. As your eyes met Kyojuro’s he beamed with a grin so infectious you couldn’t help but softly smile back. You noticed he was dressed differently than you usually saw him. Rather than his typical corps uniform, he was clad in traditional attire with a few fiery motifs reminiscent of his usual haori. You tried not to let your eyes drift down from his to rest on where the two halves of the fabric overlapped each other to reveal the upper curvature of his well built chest. 

You approached the village center where the festival was being held together. There was an overwhelming buzzing ambiance as you approached, until you were close enough for a surge of stimulation to fully wash over you in a barrage of color and noise. 

Worrying that you may be overwhelmed by the sight, Kyojuro turned to look at your reaction. The lights reflected in your eyes as you giggle “How beautiful,” slightly tightening your grip on his arm. Kyojuro wants to say the same, even though his gaze wasn’t on the view. 

You walk by the stalls, each with a different delicacy to boast. The air is thick with the enticing aromas of grilled yakitori, sweet candied fruits, and the savory scent of meat sizzling on hot griddles. Colorful lanterns sway gently overhead, casting a warm glow over the main strip. Laughter and chatter fill the atmosphere, punctuated by the rhythmic beats of nearby taiko drums.

“This has always been my favorite part of the festivities. One year my family lost me in the crowds many years ago when I ran off, practically disappearing, after getting a whiff of shrimp tempura.” As you walked through the bustling streets together, the sounds of laughter and cheerful chatter surrounded, adults and children alike filling the street.

“I have been told I was a bit of a rambunctious child, always bursting with energy, but my mother was a remarkably stoic woman. I never saw her lose her temper, not even once. My father suggested tying my wrist to his with an obi sash after the time I went missing, but she was firm in me practicing discipline on my own.” Kyojuro said, his gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the colorful stalls.

You took a moment to reflect on his words, letting them linger in the air between you. “It sounds like she had a lot of faith in you, to be able to make the right decisions, even then.”

 “She did.” Kyojuro nodded, a hint of warmth returning to his wistful expression. “I try to remember that, even now.” He paused, a smile widening as he glanced toward a nearby takoyaki stall. “And speaking of good decisions…”

Feeling your nose perk up at a savory aroma, your stomach rumbled.  “Can we get some?” You say looking at him wide eyed with enthusiasm. His melodic laugh rang out as he replied “A fine idea! Anything you would like, dear!” After securing ample snacks and refreshments, Kyojuro and you find a nice place to sit down just off the bustling Main Street. 

The night peaceful, and the sky a clear endless expanse of stars. This was contrasted by the steady vibration of energy emitted from the heart of the village. You finally cut the silence. “Thank you for inviting me” you say somewhat sheepishly.  “We have gone every year since before Senjuro was born, so of course that includes you now! I’m glad you’re here!” 

“Is your father,” you pause to gauge his reaction at the mention before continuing, “Busy perhaps today then?” 

His usual bravado lowers into a more serious tone, a poignant smile still forced on his lips, “No. He actually hasn’t been in many years.” Despite not knowing all that much about the inner dynamics of the Rengoku family, this didn’t surprise you. “After Mother passed, I don’t think he ever recovered. He hasn’t come since.” That explains it then. The drinking, the bitterness, the isolation, he was caught in a cycle of grief. One he hasn’t been able to get out of. Instinctively, you place your hand gently on top of his much larger one. 

“Senjuro was so young when we last all came together, and I just wanted him to have the memories that I was able to have. Even if he wasn’t able to remember coming with our parents. He could at least remember us going together, and I hoped maybe that would be enough.” You had never seen this kind of vulnerability from him before. At a young age, he devoted himself to filling the gaping void left in his family for his brother. 

He would become mother, father, mentor, brother, whatever Senjuro needed. Never concerned for himself, or asking for anything. That was just the way he was, you suppose. A man who lived for the well being of others, never expecting anyone to ever reciprocate. A true pillar in all facets of life, one who exists to support and safeguard those around him. What about you? You want to ask. Who is there for you then? 

Noticing your pensive expression, his lips spread into a genuine smile, an upbeat yet gentle voice reassures “You shouldn’t lose your smile my flame, it’s quite becoming on you.” He tucks a small piece of your bangs behind your ear as he speaks, his touch tender. “Please do not feel any sympathy on my behalf, this is simply a responsibility of mine that I carry with pride. The last thing I would ever want is to be the reason you wear a heavy heart. To me, that would be a failure on my behalf.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Your tone matter-of-fact as your gaze shifted from his to your hands folded in your lap. Meeting his eyes again, you spoke with purpose, a firmness in your resolve. “Whether you want  me to or not, I’m going to be there for you now. So, please take care of yourself, unless you want me to worry.” Kyojuro let out the euphonious laugh that you had learned to identify even when he was nowhere to be seen. He replied with a cheerful, “Well I suppose I’ll have to be on my best behavior then!” You couldn’t help but giggle along in contagion with him, it was impossible not to. 

Hearing a whistling noise overhead, you cock your head to the night sky where the projectile reached a peak before bursting in a flurry of vibrant hues followed by a loud BANG. You wince slightly at the collapse of sound that hits you all at once. Kyojuro’s brow furrowed seeing your face contort from the impact. 

Despite having severely impaired his own hearing to withstand a blood demon art that weaponized music in his early days in the Demon Slayer Corps, Kyojuro remained acutely aware of others’s sensitivity to noise—even if he was incapable of experiencing it himself anymore. 

Instinctively, he clasps his hands over your ears, a protective gesture to shield you from the cacophony of pops and cracks exploding in the sky. Slightly surprised, your fingertips grace the rough exterior of Kyojuro’s hands on the sides of your head. 

As you begin to move his hands away, turning to face him, you catch the look in his eyes—a mix of concern and curiosity. Looking at you wide eyed, matching your look of surprise, he asked point blankly “Is it too loud?” His voice earnest, searching your expression for reassurance.

“No, I’m alright.” you say with a soft smile.

“Do you… ever think that I am too loud?” His expression remains unchanged, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in his question. You pause for a moment, considering his words. “No,” you reply, your voice steady and confident. “I like how self-assured you speak. It puts me at ease when I hear you; it makes me feel like I can trust whatever you say, unequivocally.”

In a quick attempt to distract you from the color that hadn’t left his cheeks for the past moments, he looked away, quickly directing your attention back to the light show. 

“Look, my flame!” he exclaimed, his signature cheerfulness radiating from him, you raise your head to the sky, letting your eyes fall upon the illuminating bursts of color. Despite the brilliance of the fireworks dancing across the sky, you feel your head become heavy and your gaze flicker as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You can do little to stop yourself from swaying, beginning to nod off. 

Kyojuro’s gaze falters from the display bursting through the darkness upon noticing, moving you to the side of his chest for support. You feel a gentle touch embrace you, lightly stroking your hair as you subconsciously nestle against the unknown surface you found yourself resting against. Kyojuro was convinced you must’ve been an angel how peaceful you looked with the way the man-made supernova above you flashes across your features, like an ever-changing watercolor on your skin. 

You slowly lift your gaze, opening your eyes to meet his own ambered orbs, still flushed against him as if it was where you had belonged all along. Like puzzle pieces perfectly fitting together. Looking up at him, doey eyes, for the first time Rengoku Kyojuro found himself truly speechless. 

You clear the haze from your mind and attempt to rouse yourself up. But you didn’t want to remove yourself from the security of the warmth emanating off him. Not yet. You wished you could just lay there, as long as you possibly could. 

You felt as though he could see every one of your thoughts with how intently his golden irises pierced yours, with more affection than you thought possible for a person to muster. 

“Would you allow me to kiss you?” There is a tremble of fear of rejection in his voice, and you finally notice the rosy blush crossing his cheeks as he looks at you longingly, clearly enraptured. “Please” you reply softly. 

Feeling a hand brush against your cheek, your chin was gently raised as Kyojuro pulled you closer. You felt a spark ignite at where your lips joined and a surge of electricity rush through from where you connected. 

You feel his hand shift from your jawline to the side of your face where you were sure he could feel the heat of your cheeks. You ran your fingers through the thick sunkissed locks of his hair, and at that moment you felt your frozen exterior melt. 

The frigid ice that you encased yourself in a desperate attempt of self preservation, felt all but liquified now. All those painful feelings. There was no way to avoid the reality in your mind. Your own family considering you as no more than a bargaining chip, and giving you away as soon as you reached child bearing age. 

That realization created the cold front you manufactured. Even if it kept you detached from the rest of the world, you didn’t want to feel the ache of abandonment or desertion again. Even as you resisted, you couldn’t help but open yourself up in that moment to the radiant warmth that Kyojuro gave off. But you knew this meant now you were vulnerable to succumb to the blaze between you two, you might even be consumed by it. 

“A-Are you ready to go home my love.” Something you hadn’t heard him call you, ever. You nod your head in response as you continue to cling to him for support. The fatigue clouds your mind so much so that you hardly even notice what he calls you. But you could practically feel just that, what he called you.               

—————————————

A harsh WHACK echoed from the impact of carefully placed hits. Kyojuro’s wooden training stick sharply hitting the solid log propped before him, a staple of training sessions for any swordsman, pillars being no exception. Kyojuro continued hitting the same spots on the log over and over with increasing speed and power, hardly even acknowledging the Sound Hashira leaning against the wall feet away from him.

“You haven't given me a pep talk, or even barked at me to stop screwing around and start 'surpassing my limits’ and all that” he snickered blithely “so what the hell is on your mind.” 

Kyojuro stopped his incessant striking. His rough hands wiping a bead of sweat from rolling down his forehead, raking back loose strands of honey-golden hair before turning to his self proclaimed “flamboyant” but incredibly nosy dear friend. He looked blankly for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts before speaking. 

“Don’t make that face, you look like Tomioka.” He chuckled, shaking his head with thinly veiled disgust. “Shit, man, I haven't seen you like this before.” Uzui said, inspecting his multicolored fingernails feigning disinterest, despite his probing. 

“Usually you're the type you can hear before you see. Now I have to pry a single word out of you.” 

Kyojuro shook his head with a laugh “Come now. I’m the same as I’ve always been. I just don’t know if I ought to share what I’m thinking of, out of discretion for the person.”

Taking a wry smirk upon his face, the fellow hashira’s eyebrow raised slyly “So, what did you do to her?” 

Despite being three years Kyojuro’s senior, Uzui had a penchant for regressing into a teenager both in impudence and coarseness. Much in contrast to Kyojuro, typically assuming a role more mature than his years. 

“So I…” Kyojuro was interrupted by Uzui slinging a large arm, resembling that of a bear’s around his shoulders. “Aw you finally had your first time, huh? Was it good? I was starting to worry you two would blush and fist bump forever...” 

“I kissed her,” Kyojuro said in a self-satisfied tone. 

Uzui went silent for a moment before letting out a thunderous laugh, Kyojuro maintaining his expression of complete seriousness. “With a wife that looks like her? You’re a strong man, Rengoku. I probably would’ve gone crazy by now.” 

Kyojuro’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You disrespect both her and yourself by talking like some kind of fiend, Uzui,” Kyojuro replied, crossing his arms like a disappointed father. 

Uzui sighed petulantly, taking a step back with his hands up as if in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right, my bad. A kiss is still a first for you, so congratulations.” 

“You do what you want, I just wonder why you waited until you were hitched to get any kind of a woman’s touch in the first place. I could’ve introduced you to so many girls over the years.” Uzui spoke bluntly.

Kyojuro held his arms straight out in front of him before executing the first four forms of Flame Breathing in rapid succession, deepening the existing divots marking the sides of the log. Looking over again with a bright smile, he answered “I suppose I’ve never felt tempted by the idea of a woman I do not love.” 

Uzui replaced his impish visage with one of sincerity reading between the lines of his friend’s remark. “So now it’s all different, huh? You really love her don’t you?” 

Kyojuro’s eyes dilated noticeably, his face overflowing with gratitude. “I always planned on making anyone who became my wife happy, but nothing is so simple anymore.”

“All that has faded away now, I cannot think of her as something as superficial as that. I just want her as purely as a man could. I do not think I could be without her if I tried.” The confidence in his voice eliminates any doubt when answering the question. 

“I just hope she feels the same for me, even if nothing more than a fraction…” Kyojuro’s voice trailed off.

Uzui chuckles, dragging his palms over his face dramatically with a groan, “Ugghhh. Just don’t get all mushy on me. I still need someone who can match my flash!” 

Uzui donned a smirk once again before adding “Albeit barely!”

Kyojuro ran a hand through his thick blazing hair with his unmistakable laugh, “Ha! Of course. If you’re going to keep up with me, you had better stop idling now Uzui.” Kyojuro said, gesturing over with his practice stick. 

—————————————

As time passed, the heat intensified. With that, you found the only time it was pleasant for a breath of fresh air was as dusk fell.The plum blossoms that littered the estate upon your arrival had all but withered, and in their stead, small tender buds were maturing into fruit. 

Even as the daylight waned, the heat clung to the air like a lingering embrace. The sky was a watercolor painting with streaks of saffron and rose fading into a deeper purple. The hued sky served as a grim warning for humans, and you made your way back to the gates with purpose. 

A bead of sweat trickled down your brow, raking through the tussle of your hair, you freeze at the missing sensation of the stiff yet delicate gifted hairpin. You run your hands over your clothes and run your fingers through your hair once again to ensure what you already suspected, it was gone. 

Using the remaining embers of the sun, you retrace your footsteps back down the path. The veil of night had fallen, but the moonlight made visibility no problem. It would only take a moment to search… 

You recede from the gates in your sights trepidatiously, meandering the path with eyes at your feet. You were vehemently hoping to find the hairpin as quickly as you could. It was no doubt expensive, and you couldn’t shake how rotten you felt that you so carelessly lost it. After some pacing, you finally spy what you had been looking for. A little dirty, but undamaged. You blow some of the debris off before returning to where you ought to be at this time. 

Your blood runs cold hearing stirring from somewhere around you, something is wrong. Are you being watched? You feel your heartbeat in your throat. It couldn’t possibly be what you feared. You try to take a breath but your lungs become shallow, unable to take in air. Afraid of making any sudden movement, your eyes darted around your surroundings for anything. 

You instinctually jump with a yelp upon hearing a raucous CAW cut through the obscurity of the darkness and your own panic. A kasugai crow? You see the silhouette of the dark bird darting into the distance in the blink of an eye. Why had it flown off so urgently? Where could it be going? You dismiss such questions as you feel your muscles free from tension with a deep exhale. You feel your heart rate coming down to its normal pace with your nerves stilling. You continue walking down the path to return to the house, moving with haste before your luck could run out. 

You are filled with the warmth of familiarity as you are but meters from the gates, when suddenly you feel a talloned grip of a murderous creature grab your left wrist yanking you back with such force you nearly bite your tongue. Time nearly stops as you turn your head and gaze upon the monster that wants nothing more than to feast on your flesh. You shriek in terror at the sight, two horrible red beady eyes, scaly white skin, and rows of razor sharp fangs. No doubt about it. A demon. 

Doing whatever you could possibly think of to free yourself from the death grip of the beast, you firmly clutch the hairpin in your right hand. Using the breakneck momentum sending you throat first hurling towards the abomination, you dig the metal accessory deep in its eye. 

The hair pin was left buried in its face. The creature howled in agony, throwing you to the ground as if you were weightless. Your ears ring and you feel warmth beginning to seep from your lower lip at the impact, but you know you’ve only bought yourself a few crucial seconds to get distance from the bloodthirsty monster. 

You rake the ground with your fingertips attempting to force yourself to your feet before stumbling down again. Horror and pain manifesting in your body at last, leaving you frozen in shock. You turn your head upon hearing the shrill screeches of pain turn to aggression once again. Its eye had already regenerated completely. 

The hairpin left a crumbled wire on the ground beside the beast. You can’t outrun this thing. If you turn from it again you’re dead for sure. Beads of crimson blood trickled from your lip, the metallic taste ripe in your mouth causing you to spit instinctually. The demon came lunging at you again, its speed and agility unreal as it launched from where it stood. 

You braced yourself for the inevitable when you saw a blur of motion, a burst of blazing  power. It was as if a fierce, explosive flame had ignited out of nowhere. Suddenly, you heard a pathetic plop as the demon’s decapitated head fell to the ground, disintegrating into ash. 

The creature didn’t even know what happened before it was slain with ease, in the blink of an eye. Standing firmly, with a presence exuding both fortitude and finesse, a figure appeared in front of you. The unforgettable haori of the Flame Hashira draped over the shoulders of your rescuer. 

In a fluid motion, Kyojuro thrusted the garnet blade out to the side, the demon blood shirking off cleanly. Then, lining the katana’s edge up with the sheath, he slid it into the wooden saya with a resounding click. He kneeled to your eye line, your breathing still ragged and uneven. 

He lifted a hand to your face, almost as if to ground himself. You feel his palm tremble against your cheek. You hold your own hand on his, stilling the involuntary tremor. Feeling the warmth of your skin against his, he quieted the panicked white noise in his mind. 

You looked in shock, but miraculously, mostly unharmed. Save for the blood dripping from your mouth down to your chin. He lightly swiped his thumb over your bottom lip in an attempt to wipe the blood from your face, the traces of what was nearly his greatest failure.

His mind went back to images of a distant past. She coughed blood as well. Mother.

When it became harder for her to move, he stood at her bedside wiping the red fluid from her lips as her chronic illness advanced. Around that time, the father he looked up to that was once full of passion seemed to forget he and Senjuro even existed, seemingly grieving the loss of his beloved wife already. When the day came she was unable to breathe anymore, she passed in the night, without anyone even getting a chance to say goodbye. And with that, whatever was left of the Rengoku “family” shattered. 

“Mother has gone to heaven...” 

The words felt like tons of lead hanging in the air when he broke the news to his younger brother the next day. As much as he wanted to scream, cry out, ask someone—anyone—why. Why did a gentle woman like her have to suffer to the very end without anyone even there when her body finally gave out? Why did father drink himself into a perpetual stupor? But he knew he couldn’t. Watching little Senjuro, barely four years of age, clinging to his arm, sobbing, he knew the last thing he could do was crumble. He had to be strong. Not just for himself, but for everyone. Strong enough to protect them all.

He winced at the thought of what could’ve happened if he followed the standard procedure of pillars on standby, and spent tonight fast asleep and blissfully unaware. 

“If I only got here a few minutes sooner. Did that thing touch you anywhere else?” His eyes remained steady and solemn on your sole injury, still holding your chin between his index finger and thumb. 

Your chest tightened seeing the look on his face, both shame and concern. You told him you would try to lessen the burden he felt. What an empty platitude you’d spewed that night. 

“I-I’m alright… really, the Earth did me more damage than it did.” You knew he would only consider it as a personal ineptitude if the very being he swore to annihilate managed to do any degree of injury to you. Even with your futile attempt to ease the concern and remorse, no doubt digging deeper into his skin than any claw of a demon, his countenance was drawn thin. The man who you knew to burn with unwavering sanguinity, was reduced to a flicker of uncertainty at the sight before him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry about me, you already worry about everyone. I don’t want to be a burden or another thing hanging on your mind. And I broke my hairpin. I’m sor-” Your near hysterical drabble was abruptly cut off by Kyojuro pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if to create a protective cocoon to keep you from harm henceforth, tenderly holding your head like a lifeline. 

“Do not apologize. I won’t allow it. I am your husband… so just this once, please, you must obey me. I won’t let you apologize for anything.” His voice wracked with tremors, the usual self-assuredness cracking beneath the weight of everything.

“Even if you apologize for it, you will not leave my mind. It’s not possible. But it’s not because you’re a burden. You’ve never been a burden. Never.” He forcibly regained his composure, wiping a tear that had escaped to run down your cheek. Still holding your face so that he could take it in its entirety, sear each feature into his mind if he could. His lips curled back into a smile, one that he hoped you would mirror back at him. 

Despite your insistence you were practically unscathed, Kyojuro insisted on carrying you back to the house. With careful hands, he lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed no more than a feather. You could feel the heat radiating from him, if you didn’t know better you might’ve thought he was feverish. 

“Warm” you think to yourself, he really was always so warm.

—————————————

The morning light filtered into the room like flecks of gold, but he paid no mind to it. He had been awake before dawn anyway. Unable to shake the feeling of a taint sticking to his skin like a film of filth. What had happened hours earlier, a blur of fangs, debris, shadows, and sanguine hued splatters. 

He moved deliberately, as to not awaken you so early in the other room. Clamping a fabric tie between his teeth, he lifted his arms to gather the amber strands of his hair, his shoulders flexed, corded muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin. Before dexterously pulling through and fastening his usual ponytail with one hand. 

Next, he inspected the condition of the white haori accented with red and yellow left carefully folded across the room. Scanning it, running his hands over it, he ensured the prized heirloom wasn’t soiled as he did each time he worked. He was meticulous about his corps uniform, never did he allow it to look  creased, disheveled, or unprofessional. But the most important piece of the ensemble was his haori. 

Passed down from generation to generation, the garment was a symbol of the house Rengoku going back to the Sengoku era, precious, and only be to worn by the current Flame Hashira.The kaen pattern was a sacred motif that served as both a beacon of light to those in need of salvation, as well as a searing warning to evil. The privilege of donning it was not one to be taken lightly. He most literally carried the long legacy of Flame Breathing on his shoulders. 

With that legacy came an unyielding duty. Every hashira had a sector they were responsible for protecting, mainly by remaining vigilant for anything suspicious that could be related to demonic movements. Weak demons were much like mindless animals, prowling the night haphazardly seeking human flesh to feast on. 

They were easy to both find and slay. On the other hand, powerful demons were intelligent, sinister. They spun elaborate webs, even employing humans or feigning humanity themselves to strategically ensnare unsuspecting victims to devour, only to then return to the shadows and repeat the cycle again and again. 

In recent days, Kyojuro knew something was horribly awry in his district. Forty passengers and a small platoon of demon slayers did not simply vanish from their seats halfway through a train ride. And just as that same “man-eating train” was to return to the rails, a demon dubbed “The Slasher” doing absolutely nothing to conceal itself, suddenly begins wreaking havoc? A distraction, no doubt. 

There was a foreboding bitterness in the air of something horrific to come, a phase two of this calculated plot. A twelve kizuki, perhaps even an upper rank, was lying in wait. Reporting his findings to the Master, Kyojuro was officially dispatched, and to board the Mugen Train at dusk in two days time. 

It was standard procedure for the pillars to have a short period to arrange preparations and fully rest before the ordeal to come when assigned a mission from the Master himself; he had not been personally sent by the Master on a mission more than but a few times in his career. 

When a hashira was sent at all, it was a signifier as to the direness and expected peril of the situation. A code red emergency. It was a necessity for anyone attending such a high stakes operation to be both mentally and physically at their pinnacle, a few nights of leaving patrol to the sector’s subordinate kinoe and kinoto battalions was in the best interests of all. Even a pillar is only human after all. 

He was no stranger to any of this, he had been on countless missions, even eliminating the twelve kizuki was something he knew he was capable of doing. He usually did follow the expectation of a brief rest period, but he was under no real obligation to. No one, not even the wise Master, would try to convince a pillar of their own physical threshold if one continued duties anyway. 

Images of ruby droplets dripping down your lip played in his mind on loop. It stirred something fierce in him, something that made any prospect of fatigue irrelevant. You had been so close to becoming another victim, another statistic of demonic cruelty. His jaw tightened at such a thought. Was respite a luxury he could afford? 

The Slasher was known for its speed; just last night, several crows reported sightings from different towns in a span of a few minutes. He could not let the beast stay on the prowl another night. He would eliminate it now if he could. He could not entrust its defeat to another slayer, or even another pillar. 

The sightings had been too close to the estate; he wanted to track and dispose of it himself. He would never forgive himself if he stood idly by waiting for the Master’s order to board the Mugen Train, and something happened to someone he cared about again. Every fiber of his being screamed to act, to protect, unwilling to afford to think of anything else right now—not even the impending mission.

All his pursuits of strength, in an attempt to fulfill his promise, no, his duty not just to Mother, but to everyone he was capable of defending. Was it all for naught? He could not succumb to the trap of self satisfaction. Continue. Onward. There had to be more he could do, more who he could protect. A pillar is an immovable object to support all that rests upon it, and he would be the same. Solidified with an overwhelming passion. A couple of sleepless nights should be nothing to inhibit a hashira, right? He just needed to push himself harder.

“Please take care of yourself, unless you want me to worry” 

A softer image of you enters his mind. Warm lantern light reflecting from your face, cheeks dusted with a rosy hue, and a wistful smile. Your echoes in his mind, almost hauntingly so. Your voice is saccharine like honey, and your words even more so. 

He began slipping into his usual uniform attire, each button latched a manifestation of his ironclad resolve. He would investigate the Slasher incidents even if it took the next two day, and dispose of it. He would try to stop home for a quick goodbye, then straight away mount the Mugen Train next. 

You would have to find it in your heart to excuse what he was planning to do. He slid the shoji open a crack large enough to peer inside. He looked in on you, peacefully asleep. The sunlight, a golden cascade against your skin. It may have well cast a halo upon you, the way you look positively ethereal. Whispering in a voice uncharacteristically low as to not cut through the tranquil, he uttered solemnly:

“Please, forgive me…”

—————————————

The cicadas chirped with the evening upon them, the warm air sat like a blanket over the Earth, with barely any breeze. With the company of the youngest Rengoku, you sat on the back porch of the house. Time moved slow, seemingly not even at all, like they were suspended in placidity, or maybe even monotony. 

“Is it normal for pillars to be sent out for over two days straight?” You ask the young boy next to you.

“No,” he replied with certainty “They are the most valuable assets of the entire corps. Only to be dispatched when all logistics and reconnaissance is done, and they need someone to finish off the threat itself. Or perhaps if there is a devastating emergency or something, but even then.”

You nod, expressing understanding. “Brother likes to be involved every step of the way though, he likes enforcing that every position in the corps is equally essential, including hashira” Senjuro can’t hide his starry-eyed look at the mere mention of his idol. 

You hum amusedly, how had you forgotten? You can picture him now, tirelessly ensuring that every corps member feels valued, regardless of rank or whether they wield a sword or simply provide support.

You can’t help but acknowledge how characteristic that kind of mindset was. That man really takes every opportunity to work as hard as humanly possible to set an example for others. 

“You think he will send a crow soon?” Despite Senjuro’s steady tone and demeanor, you see his lip quivering. 

“He always comes straight here as soon as he can, I’m sure he will be back by tomorrow morning at the latest.” You steel yourself, speaking confidently and self assured, smiling back at Senjuro. 

“That’s what Kyojuro would do.” You think to yourself. 

“W-would you come with me to our Mother’s altar?” Senjuro looked at you, concern still wrought into his features. 

“Oh, uh sure.” You had yet to see where the late lady of the house was laid to rest, or the shrine that served as a physical memory of her within the home. The right occasion just hadn’t come up. 

Maybe you remembered seeing her when you were a child the day you were promised to the Rengoku family? You can vaguely recall a beautiful measured woman with long, dark hair, in every manner down to how she breathed she exuded elegance and poise. Judging by how many years ago that was, Senjuro probably remembers her about as much as you do. 

Regardless of that, her spirit was likened to that of an angelic being. Either serving as a fond memory of simpler times, or a bitter reminder of when life was worth living for all those who once loved her.

The boy rose to his feet beckoning you to follow him, taking a stick of incense before leading you into a small room.

 Adorning the tiered altar were chrysanthemums and fine silks, leading to a portrait with an inscription beneath reading “Rengoku Ruka: Beloved Wife and Mother.” Her deep crimson eyes reflected a patience extending infinitely, steadily taking in all they surveyed. 

“Someone already lit incense?” You say gesturing to the aromatic as it sat already burning, concentrated sake poured into an ornate ceremonial ochoko beside it. It looked as if the offering had been left earlier that same day. 

“There’s never any incense here when my brother is gone.” Senjuro frowned at the untouched stick in his own hand. “There’s a bit of an old school tradition he told me about from The Flame Hashira Chronicles talking about pillars lighting incense for each other when they are sent into the field for an extended period, kind of as a way of praying for their safety. I’m not sure if the current pillars still believe in it, but my brother definitely does. He really tries his best to follow the ways of previous generations of hashira.” 

You wondered why such a ritual was getting phased out, perhaps it was just considered archaic? You were no elite swordsman yourself, but it only made sense in your mind. The longer they are forced to continue fighting, the more difficult the mission becomes as they slowly fatigue. They deserve all the support from their fellow pillars in that case.

Senjuro sighed, “I figured he would like it if we followed that custom and lit some for his protection, just in case none of his comrades did it for him.”

As much as you were sure Kyojuro would be touched by you and Senjuro wanting to burn incense for him, your heart bled at the thought of being the only ones to do so. However, clearly there was someone else in the house who showed concern and solidarity for his endeavor…

“Well, I guess we won’t have to.” You assure Senjuro in an attempt to ease his disappointment. You could tell he wanted to be the one to ask Ruka’s spirit for guardianship and watchfulness over his brother. Nevertheless, you both kneeled on the zabuton cushion before the altar, your hands both folded reverently. 

“Please Mother, keep brother from harm. Please guide him home when he is victorious over the demons.” 

You shut your eyes while listening to Senjuro’s plea, feeling your breath shallow with worry hearing his words. You hadn’t said it to each other yet, but there it was. You and Senjuro both had considered the possibility of something dreadful, even as hard as you tried not to. You found yourself imploring as well. 

“Please Ruka-san…  watch over him.”

—————————————

He looked over his shoulder at the younger slayer incapacitated on the ground, and the civilians of the Mugen Train as they attempted to recover from the aftermath of the locomotive going off the rails. 

The tattooed demon seemed in a state of bliss at the sensation of his blade slicing its body, as if it was in a state of bliss from the adrenaline of battle. The slashes closed as quickly as he created them, his enemy standing unharmed. “You still don’t get it? That if you continue attacking, you’re just getting closer to death, Kyojuro?” 

Blood obscured his left eye to the point he couldn’t even see out of it. He felt sharp splinters of rib bone against his side, nearly making him dizzy from the pain. He tightened his core to do whatever he could to prevent the fragments from puncturing his vitals from within. He could not falter now. Not when over 200 lives hung in the balance. Firming his resolve, he gripped his blade with a vice. 

The final and most powerful form of Flame Breathing was a Rengoku family secret technique. A mystery to demons and swordsmen alike. There were no records of an enemy living to tell the tale once it was wielded, even tsuguko hailing from outside the family were only told of eight forms in existence. 

No matter how many centuries the monster known as Upper Moon 3 had lived, he could not possibly know of this move if he had never encountered a Flame Hashira before, as he had previously boasted.

This creature was not a demon, he was a calamity. A being only devoted to destruction. One that needed to be taken down here and now. This was his last chance, even if all he could do was trap the demon in place until dawn. He had to use it, the penultimate stance of Flame Breathing. A form that could only be described as using mind, body, very soul as kerosene and setting one alight to burn, burn!

“Flame Breathing Esoteric Art, Ninth Form: Rengoku!”

Taking off full speed, the rest of the world fragmenting into oblivion as his vision darkened at the edges. His only focus was striking with as much speed and power as he possibly could. A burning ferocity went ripping through every nerve ending, focusing every ounce of strength from everything down to each individual cell, to a single objective. 

His opponent’s face lit up with ecstasy, cackling in a fit of twisted delight. “Now you must become a demon! We could continue to duel each other for the rest of eternity!”

The ground shook at both forces of nature colliding, all the pain reaching a threshold in his body that it became numb at once. He entered a dreamlike state. As if he was no longer in control of his own body, the righteous fury from within was overflowing to move him without thinking. It was only when the beast launched himself into the air, both arms ripped that he understood what had happened as they stood in a deadlock. Feeling his muscles finally give, he fell to his knees. Everything went white, the overwhelming silence gripping him in place. It was as if he was suspended in the crossroads of reality and time. 

He sat kneeling in a maroon yukata. The familiar tatami floors he had known all his life beneath him. He was home? He looked down his lap to see the calloused, hardened palms he had acquired over years of combat were replaced with small, soft hands of a child. 

Lifting his head from the ground, his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. Serene ruby eyes met his gaze, complemented by the same sage countenance he had once known. 

“Mother? Did I… did I do right by you? My duty… being strong... Did I fail?” 

Her expression remained calm, the picture of composure, even now, embodying the quiet strength that had always defined her. “Kyojuro,” she spoke, her voice flowing like a babbling brook, soothing and reassuring. “You have never failed.”

“Why… Why can’t I embrace you Mother?” He was moving in slow motion, the harder he strained to reach her, the more resistance he felt on his body. What was this place?

“That is because it's not time. You are not finished yet. You promised to see your duty fulfilled, so fulfill it.” She continued, her eternally stoic gaze softened. “I’m so proud of you, my son.”

To be continued...

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

Warnings: branding (of reader), as well as typical yandere themes like abduction, mentioned murder, mentioned violence, and threats.

There are also slight spoilers for the main quest (Idk how the quests are organized yet HAKDHD I didn't pay attention. But I'm at the point where I have to get to union lvl 21 to continue the main quest, so no spoilers for those quests).

ALSO HI LADIES here's your yearly fanfic. The drabbles are in chronological order. Its nearly 2.9k words total. Goodbye now.

Scar is a busy man who, by the nature of his work, can't settle down in any one place for too long.

It's what is keeping you sane, honestly. You only have a certain dramatic, scarred, card-wielding bastard on your couch (or, as is becoming more frequent, next to you when you wake up) for a few days every once in a while. His visits are irregular and unpredictable, just like he is. 

That doesn't make it much better, though. He seems to take pride in being a pest. Scar loves attention, and unfortunately, he's not above being annoying to get it. From monologues about the great Lament to asking you about tragedies that seem random, until he openly admits to being the culprit so he can tell the story, there's little he won't do to keep your eyes on him. None of it is anything that would be helpful to the authorities, of course, but there's not much to avoid talking about there. The Fractsidus has always made their ideals quite clear, after all.

One of the first things you do when you find him, relaxing in your living room like he owns it, is threaten to tell the higher-ups about him.

"Alright, then. Go right ahead!" With a seemingly carefree smile, he crosses his legs on your couch, feet on the table and all, and gestures towards the front door.

You narrow your eyes at him and back away, not tearing them away for a second. He snorts and gives you a small, sarcastic little wave and an ingenuine closed-eye smile.

Your back hits the door behind you, so you're forced to turn around to undo the deadbolt. Right as you do, though, a strange, bright red blanket of cards spreads up from beneath your feet, encasing you in a dome. You blink, and you're under a red sky on a desolate, floatibg island. Whirling all around you is a maelstrom of decimated buildings and pillars.

You whirl on your feet, and your eyes land on him, standing only a few feet away from you with one hand on his hip. A muted sense of anxiety thrums uneasily in the back of your mind. Your eyes meet his, one red and the other a dull gray, and you think you finally understand how a deer in headlights feels.

"Are you going to kill me?" Your voice is eerily steady and calm, belying the anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. It sounds alien to your ears.

He outright laughs in your face and leans in close. "What reason would I have to lie?" he asked. "If I did want to kill you, I'd just tell you. There's nothing you could do to stop me." He places a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, undeterred by your instinctual flinch.

"Remember this. With the new Lament growing ever closer, nobody has the resources or time to spare to keep a simple civilian, like you, safe from someone like me." Scar's tone lowers towards the end with a dark promise, and his smile sharpens into a smirk.

He turns on one heel and walks away. With a snap of his fingers, the chaotic scenery melts away to reveal your simple living room once again. "Consider that a warning. Even if you did tell anyone, do you think they could do anything that would help you?" He looks over his shoulder at you, his dim, empty eyes flashing dangerously.

"Think about the price they would have to pay for your own desperation."

Night has long since fallen, but you're still out and about. It's not that you have anything left to do, it's just... when you go home, you're going to have to see Scar again. If you have to listen to another of his monologues, you might actually try to kill him. It's not because you're a little scared of him. Of course not.

(Your eyes still dart around nervously, jumping at any flash of red you see.)

You check your phone for the time, only to find it's just past midnight. Everything is closed, and you're really not sure what to do now. Maybe you should just suck it up and go home. The thought has you slumping your shoulders with a defeated sigh.

A hand clamps down on your mouth, and another strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. In a panic, you kick and flail and try your best to scream, but it's all futile. They drag you into the alleyway behind you anyway.

"Relax! It's just me," Scar purred, the hints of a laugh tinging his voice. His breath fans against your ear. "I've just noticed... You've been spending so much time out and about, it's like you’ve forgotten about me. Consider my feelings hurt."

Scar pulls the both of you into one of his all-too-familiar crimson portals. You try to pipe up with some snide comments or annoyed curses, but his hand only presses more firmly against your mouth.

"Ah-ah-ah." He moves his hand into your sight from your waist just to wag a claw-tipped finger at you before he places it back, securing you against him again.

It's only a few seconds before a wall in your bedroom comes into view and the red light of the portal behind you disappears. All of a sudden Scar falls backwards, pulling you helplessly along with him. You make an embarrassing, surprised little squeak on the way down, reflexively clinging to him until you both land on the bed behind you.

He lets out an amused little chuckle and rolls over, putting you both on your sides with his chest pressed against your back. He buries his face in your throat with a sigh and finally frees your mouth so he can hold you close like a plushie.

"I know what you were trying to do," he murmurs into your ear, a threatening undertone to his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just busy."

His lips dance across your skin, and you can feel his smile against your throat. "You don't think I'm gullible, do you?"

Well, dammit. So much for that. You try to look at him to gauge his reaction, but his arms only tighten around you. His face is hidden in your neck anyway, so it's a lost cause.

"I'm... sorry?"

"As long as you don't try it again, dollface."

For a few months, maybe a year (depending on the timing and your temperament) Scar doesn't think he'll need to kidnap you. You're somewhere safe, in a place where he can come find you whenever he pleases. Why bother? Besides, it's nice watching you go about your day.

Unfortunately, he slowly comes around more and more over time, making this outcome inevitable. There are two primary factors. The prophecy is the first; his free time dwindles more and more as it nears its fulfillment, and the idea of having you available at any given moment becomes a more alluring prospect day by day. Alternatively, you're too desperate to get rid of him, and he decides it would be easier to isolate you, away from any "pesky helpers," as he would put it.

Scar tosses the idea around in his mind for a few days before he makes his final decision. He won't even keep it a secret from you, either; he tells you this casually in the spur of the moment, in a bid for your attention. Maybe you seem disinterested, too busy paying attention to something else. Maybe you've realized his "weakness," as you might call it, and tried to give him the silent treatment. Either way, what you do can push him towards a decision a little early. He usually takes great care to reign in his impulses, but with you, he doesn't have to. An ordinary citizen like yourself would have quite a bit of difficulty getting away from him, after all. He finds your helplessness freeing, to a degree.

"I've been thinking lately," Scar trails off, clearly fishing for your response.

"You can do that?" It's out of your mouth before you can think to stop it. You almost regret giving him what he wants, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. At the very least, you can focus on the dishes you're washing instead of sparing him a glance.

He snorts, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge your comment. "I think it's about time we take our relationship to the next level. Don't you?"

Your head snaps in his direction. "The hell does that mean?" you demand. Your face twists in a mixture of confusion and slowly dawning horror, an expression the bastard revels in. His toothy grin widens, and with a flick of his wrist, he produces a card out of thin air to idly spin and flip between his fingers.

"It's been really nice spending time with you here, you know? But unfortunately, duty calls, and I can't always spare the time to come visit." Scar sighs dramatically with an exaggerated frown, resting both arms on the back of your couch. "It's such a shame. I'm sure you miss me, don't you?"

You uneasily turn back to the dishes, putting another on the drying rack and picking up a new one. "Not really. Don't you have any friends to talk to?"

"And there's the other point!" You refuse to look at him, but you can hear his footsteps as he leisurely saunters to the kitchen. You try to focus on scrubbing off a particularly stubborn patch of grease on your pan. "You can be so hard to deal with sometimes! It makes me wonder if all the effort I go through to keep you happy is worth it."

You furrow your brows, a frown tugging at your lips. The moment you move to speak, a red-tipped finger comes from behind to press against your lips in a shushing motion. "Now, now, dear. No need to tell me it isn't true." His face leans into view from over your shoulder with a smile. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be just as excited for this as I am."

"Excited for wh-"

Scar cuts you off without words, making the world spin as he turns you around to face him. Your pan falls with a clatter, and suddenly you're faced away from the window above the sink and looking up into his face, split by an ear-to-ear grin. His pupils are blown wide with excitement, lit up by a manic glint in his usually dull irises.

"You're coming with me. You have three days to write out your will and say goodbye to the people you care about," he spoke, his voice rough at the edges and trembling with suppressed amusement. His hands rest on the edge of the counter on each side of you, caging you in. "Try to run away or tell anyone, and I'll kill them all. Obey, and they can live."

Scar leans in so close that his nose brushes yours, with a stare so intense you would have thought his eyes were glowing. "We have a lot of things we can do with their bodies. Would you like to see what a Tacet Discord born of human flesh looks like?"

You can't tear your eyes away from his intense, bright stare for even a second. With slow, trembling movements, you shake your head.

"Now that's what I wanted to see." Scar leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, only pulling away after a long moment. "Not so hard, was it? I'm sure you'll be alright, there's no need to be scared!" He brightens up in a flash, any trace of his previous threats gone. He licks his lips as he turns away from you.

"All that being said, I'm sure something similar will happen to your family in the true Lament, so it doesn't matter. But if it makes you happy, I don't mind leaving them be in the meantime." Scar looks up at nothing in particular, summoning another card to toy with idly. His spare hand rests behind his back.

"Isn't it boring how the world is stagnating?" Scar starts up again. "Chaos, as orchestrated by the great Threnodians, can create a form of equality impossible to achieve with our current status quo..." His voice turns fuzzy in your mind as you tune his droning out. Three days? Where is he taking you? What about your life?

You take a shaky breath, bringing a hand up to tug at your hair. Wasn't there anything you could do? All his talk of controlling one's own destiny flashes in your mind, mocking you. Would you ever see your family again?

You only realize that Scar has noticed your breakdown when he places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close. "Aww, don't cry," he murmurs, wiping away tears you didn't even realize were falling with a thumb. "It's not so bad, I promise." His lips stretch into a facsimile of a comforting smile, and he strokes your hair in an attempt at comfort. He pulls your face into his shoulder, periodically shushing you.

You stay like that for a few minutes, and when he deems you suitably stable, he moves to lean on you with one arm on your shoulder, the other outstretched before the both of you in a grand gesture. "Don't worry, just imagine it. Wouldn't it be lovely, being safe and sound by my side in my new world?"

"Not at all. Are you sure you don't hate me?" You mumble, your voice rough and tired.

He rolls his eyes. "Darling, I could never. Oh well, I'm sure you'll come around." Scar shrugs it off. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, and his eyes flash, as though he had remembered something important. "Oh, by the way, the rest of today is the first of the three days. Would you like to get a head start?"

Fuck.

One day, Scar returns from one of his excursions with a plan in mind. Without a word, he sits you down in the makeshift infirmary of his Fractsidus hideout of choice for the week. For once, he refuses to answer any of your questions, instead opting to gather a few medical supplies from around the room. When he's satisfied with the collection—bandages, ointment, and a bottle of painkillers—he sets them down on the table next to you.

"Did you get hurt out there or something?" You cross your arms and lean back in the uncomfortable metal chair. "Don't expect me to bandage you up." If that growing smile is anything to go by, he knows you're just trying to cover up your sense of unease, but he doesn't call you out on it.

"You wound me. But to answer your question, not quite."

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. What could he have planned?

Scar isn't going to let you theorize for too long, it seems. He kneels in front of you, one of his signature ram skull cards held flat against the palm of his hand. He ignores you as you flinch away, tensing up, eyes darting between him and his hand.

"What are you doing?" you hiss. Scar chuckles in lieu of a response. His hand drifts up to the side of your throat, pressing his palm—and the smooth side of the card within it—firmly to the skin of your throat. As if reading your mind, his opposite hand lands on your opposite shoulder, keeping you in place before you can try anything.

With a wink, a sharp-toothed grin, and a faint flash of red from beneath his hand, he sears the card's image into your skin with a flash of white-hot pain. The rest is a blur. All you can remember are your cries as he presses your face into his shoulder, stroking your hair as he shushes you.

Now you sit on the couch, with a cup of (instant, but still) hot chocolate in hand and soft bandages around your throat. Scar crosses one leg over the other and slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close.

"Why?" you ask simply, with not even enough energy left to look at him.

He hums in mock thought, making a show out of considering his words. "Well, there's really not much to it," he shrugs with one of his characteristic smiles. "I was just thinking of something more... permanent, today."

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Intolerance, toxic religion, parental relationship, Jungkook taking off his clothes 😮‍💨🤲 very dumb reader.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on Tumblr and my first BTS one. I know, it's embarrassing. The story isn't that great, and it probably shouldn't be the first one I post here, but the characters took on a life of their own without my consent, and I've been writing this since 2022 (fuck), so here we are. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language and that the reader is extremely annoying. See you on the next chapter! Thank You.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

I organize the things from the bazaar as I go through the accessories spread out on the table. It's a calm easy task and I've done it more than a thousand times, so even with my eyes closed the job is done masterfully. My mother is next to me, quietly, listening to music on an old radio that she refuses to throw away. It seems that, since it's a radio she got as a teenager, the object has a deep meaning for her and she doesn't even like the thought of exchanging it for something more modern. I hum along too, trying to tune my voice in some parts where the music gets harder and the notes get higher.

Usually on the weekends, every Sunday, my mother and I go to church and the bazaar after the service, to raise money and help the pastor's project. Pastor Leen is a good man and always helps everyone in need, so this semester, during these last months of the year, he has been focusing on the animals that live on the streets. Everyone in the community who goes to church participates and helps in whatever way they can, whether through donations or fundraising, like my mother and I do. That’s why we gathered some clothes and items for the church bazaar, and with the sales, we can do our part. It's exhausting, but rewarding in the end.

During the week, I study at the university in my town and work at the library, so there's not much time for rest, but I like having a busy life. Although I know that, for some people, my idea of a busy life might not seem busy at all. At twenty-one, I’m supposedly supposed to be somewhere else in the world, enjoying my youth and partying with my friends, but strangely, I never wanted that. Whether it’s because of my mother, who always instructed me not to follow that path, or because I’m just introverted, I’ve never gone to parties or had adventures that I could look back on later. The most out-of-the-ordinary thing I've ever done was drink beer when I was eighteen and regret it the next day, feeling guilty for being influenced by a friend.

I’ve never left this town. I’ve never dated. I’ve never been to a party. I haven’t done many memorable things in life. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll regret not having these experiences someday, but I’m so tied to the way I live my life that it’s hard to change, even just a little. Habits are hard to break, whether for better or worse. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the store door opens and Mrs. Jeon walks in with a smile on her face and two heavy bags in her hands. I quickly get up intending to help her, but my mother is faster.

“Good morning, Eunji,” Mrs. Jeon greets my mother, letting out a relieved sigh as the weight of one of the bags is lifted from her hands. “Good morning, Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Jeon. How has your week been?” I ask, taking the other bag from her. I peek inside and notice that it’s full of men’s clothes, judging by the size and the predominantly dark colors.

“Radiant, actually. My son arrived in town last night,” she says, her smile widening. I’m surprised because I didn’t know she had a son. Mrs. Jeon moved to town six years ago, and I don’t recall any son visiting her or her mentioning him. This is the first time she’s spoken about it, at least in front of me.

“Your son, Jungkook?” my mother asks, curious, and our neighbor nods, still beaming. “Doesn’t he live in Seoul?”

“Yes, he does. But he’s been expanding his business, and I invited him to visit, and coincidentally, he decided to open a branch here,” she explains, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. My mother instantly flashes a smile. An interested smile that I know all too well.

Of course, because I’ve never dated, my mother is always trying to set me up with someone. Not that I want her to. I never asked her to make all this effort, much less to convince the church ladies to introduce their sons just because I’m single. It’s embarrassing, as if I’m not capable of finding someone on my own without my mother’s help, but she doesn’t listen, even when I had an honest conversation with her asking her to stop trying to play Cupid.

"What kind of business?" my mother asks, and I try not to roll my eyes. For a woman of God, she worries way too much about money and status. It's a controversial topic that has led to arguments between us in the past.

"He's a tattoo artist. He owns a tattoo studio in Seoul," Mrs. Jeon explains with a proud smile, and my mother's face immediately turns serious. The charm of a potential son-in-law is lost. Of course, no one is ever perfect enough for her—or for me, in her eyes.

I love my mother. She’s strong, and many times I look up to her when making important decisions, but she judges people too harshly. Ever since she joined the church when I was younger, she’s changed. She changed her clothes, the way she speaks, and even her thoughts. I can’t even remember what she was like before, and even though all these changes were a support for her after my father passed away, some aspects of the situation still bothers me. The fact that she believes people are going to hell just for having different opinions and ideas is one of them. Of course, I don’t argue with her about it and rarely express my point of view. If she knew how I really thought, I’d be a princess locked in her room, with no peace and even less freedom than I already have at home.

"He's a tattoo artist?" my neighbor nods, not noticing the bitter tone in my mother's voice. I decide to step in, anticipating some sharp comment from the woman beside me.

"Mrs. Jeon, thank you so much for the clothes and for your help. Just today we had three customers, and the clothes you donated sold very quickly," I interject, changing the subject. The tension in my shoulders eases as my neighbor shifts her focus to the bag in my hands.

"Oh, no need to thank me. I want to do as much as I can to help the animals. I adopted a puppy last week and I’m in love!" she says, placing her hands on her cheeks with joy, and I can’t help but smile. Mrs. Jeon is one of the few older people from the church that I enjoy talking to.

"What’s his name?"

"Gureum. He’s an angel," she says, forming the small size of the puppy with her hands.

"Gureum? Don’t tell me he’s all white," I guess, laughing at the name.

"He is!" she laughs with me, jingling the keys in her hand. "Anyway, I hope we get plenty of donations this month. I can't wait to see the results of our work."

"That’s true, Misuk. This month the winter will be harsher, so we have to act more quickly this year," my mother continues, and the conversation shifts to the church project. I feel more relieved as the minutes pass and Mrs. Jeon leaves. Not because of her, of course, but because of the situation itself. My mother is very straightforward and usually says what she thinks, no matter who it hurts. I don’t want my relationship with our neighbor to be ruined just because my mother doesn’t know how to hold her tongue.

"Did you hear what she said?" Eunji asks, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest as if she’s deeply shocked. "Her son is a tattoo artist! Do you think he has those awful marks all over his body?"

"Probably, Mom," I sigh, trying to focus on the clothes Mrs. Jeon just brought. "And Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s our neighbor."

"Even so! Y/N, that only happens when parents don’t know how to properly guide their children. How can a mother, who goes to church, let her son go down such a horrible path in life?"

"We don’t know how her son lives, and it’s none of our business, Mom!" I try to keep calm as I fold a large black T-shirt, but then I remember that before organizing the items, we have to wash them, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

Usually, the clothes are washed at our house, and my mother still has to stay at the bazaar for a while longer. Honestly, I don’t want to be around her listening to how good of a mother she was just because I go to church and don’t have a tattoo on my arm. It irritates me, and it’s hard not to let her notice, but for the sake of peace, I try my best, nodding and agreeing with all the nonsense she says.

"Mom, I’m going to take all these things home and get everything ready for the bazaar, okay?" I try to force a smile, but my face feels stiff. My head is throbbing, and I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been out of my room all day, and there’s nothing more exhausting than that, at least for me. She murmurs in agreement, probably annoyed that she can't keep talking badly about Mrs. Jeon’s son, but I don’t care and just leave.

I regret it a little halfway home because the bags are heavy, and even though the distance isn’t long, it’s hard to carry all the clothes by myself. I arrive home out of breath. The sky is overcast, with dark gray clouds covering it, but I’m sweating as if I just ran a marathon. I laugh a bit at my lack of fitness, promising myself that I’ll start the morning walks I keep putting off, and I head to the laundry room to start organizing the clothes.

When I open the bag, I’m surprised by the items. Not only are they of good quality, but I’m also certain they don’t belong to Mr. Jeon. He dresses well, but not in this style. I can hardly imagine him wearing black jeans or a heavy jacket. I’m intrigued by who the owner might be, but I don’t waste time pondering it, too tired to unravel mysteries that aren’t even important. I leave the laundry room once everything is organized and head to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.

My room isn’t particularly special or different, but what I love the most about it is the bookshelf filled with books covering almost the entire wall. It was my dream from a young age to get a job and buy every book I was interested in, and luckily, that’s been possible since I started working at the library. It’s the perfect job for me, even if it’s temporary. I’m studying literature to become a teacher, and I can’t wait to start working in my dream job.

I sigh and pull my phone out of my dress pocket, too lazy to take off my clothes and go shower. I groan, placing my hands over my face, knowing there’s no escaping it after being out of the house all day. There’s no way I’m going to bed like this. Reluctantly, I get up and untie my hair, which falls in waves, heavy against my neck.

I bend down to grab the hem of my dress and start pulling it up, feeling even more tired. Today was such a long day. I can’t wait to go to bed and sleep until tomorrow. I take off my socks, lifting one foot behind the other, and as I head to the towel inside the wardrobe next to the bed, I unhook the bra that’s been bothering me all day. The relief is so immense that I let out a sigh, touching my breasts with my fingers and playing with my nipple, hardened by the cold air.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop and look at the window when I notice that the neighbor’s window—the one that had never been opened until now—is, in fact, wide open. I need a few seconds to realize that there’s someone on Mrs. Jeon’s balcony, and worse, it’s not her on the other side. It’s a man. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.

I hide behind the bookshelf in my room, afraid that he might think I’m spying on him, but for some reason, I keep watching him with curiosity, hypnotized by the way he moves around the room and among the furniture. His dark, wavy hair falls over his face when, out of nowhere, he starts pulling his shirt over his back, taking it off lazily while focusing on the phone in his hands. He gives a small smile, almost as if he subconsciously knows the effect he’s having on me. My heart beats hard against my chest, and my breathing quickens; my mind fills with fantasy images of his pink lips and large, seemingly soft hands.

He is... gorgeous. Different. With tattoos all over his body. One of his arms is completely covered in designs, and his chest is adorned with images that I can’t quite make out. My mouth waters as my eyes roam over his strong back and shoulders. His pale skin glows under the dim light of the yellow lamp, and it’s hard to catch my breath. It’s like observing a work of art. A forbidden work of art, I know. It’s wrong. But I can’t convince my mind that I should stop. The man, still a stranger, smiles at his phone as the screen lights up his face. Unlike his body, which exudes sensuality and is intimidating, his smile is sweet and gentle, and the most charming I’ve ever seen. He tosses the phone onto the bed, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist and deftly undoing the buttons of his jeans. That’s when the trance that literally had me delirious breaks. I slam the window shut, desperate at my own madness.

What was I doing? How could I have seen a stranger stripping like a complete pervert? I feel so bad, guilty for having crossed the line and done something as wrong as this. I gulp, covering my face with my hands. I let out a tortured sigh and feel my heart racing uncontrollably. I am sweating, as if I had done a heavy workout, when in fact, I had been standing still the entire time. I peek through the gaps in my window to see the room in Mr. Jeon's house, but I can't see anything anymore and I don't have the courage to open the curtains and try to look at the man again.

It's the first time in many years that I have felt something like this. Could it be desire? I can't remember the last time I felt anything like this. I recall having a small and first crush on a boy at school, something innocent, when I didn't even know what it meant to like someone romantically or as a friend. This was, throughout my life, the only consistent experience in recent years. It scares me that suddenly I feel something different for someone, even if it's minimal. I let out a sigh and cover my face, embarrassed by my own behavior. To make things worse, I'm not even wearing clothes. I rush to the bathroom and close the door, staring at myself in the mirror. I am so dazed that even my cheeks are dark red. I close my eyes tightly and head to the shower, trying to let the water wash away my thoughts. It doesn't work. I spend the whole night gazing at my bedroom window, full of images that I can't forget or erase.

I have a normal day after the almost exhausting night. I study in the morning about different approaches with children on the autism spectrum, which I find completely interesting and complex, and then I work in the afternoon at the college library on campus. This is actually great because I can study even during my work hours with free access to all available books, which has saved my life in recent months. The first semester of classes was tough, but this second one has been terrible, with piled-up assignments and deadlines that are almost impossible to meet, at best. My life has revolved around this routine, and the ordeal of exams hasn't even started. On my way home, I stop at a convenience store to buy something to eat and bike towards my house, which, honestly, isn’t very far but is extremely tiring.

I get home exhausted, collapsing on the sofa almost immediately. My mother appears from the kitchen with a serious face and a tense expression, as if something very grave had happened.

"You won't believe who invited us to dinner." she comments, placing one hand on her hip.

"Who?" I ask, just out of courtesy. Besides not being hungry, I'm not interested in the subject, too stressed with college stuff to pay attention to my mother.

"Misuk."

"And what's the problem, Mom?" I roll my eyes. Until yesterday, my mother had no problem with our neighbor, and now she acts like the woman is forbidden or not good enough to be her friend.

"Did you forget, YN?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Her son, the one from Seoul, will be at the dinner."

I turn pale, my mouth dry. How could I have forgotten this? College has consumed all my thoughts during the day, but I would never forget that man. The man I saw through the window is Mrs. Jeon's son, I suppose. I concluded this after spending the whole night mulling over my thoughts and reliving that body and face, which I can’t even recall without blushing. I’ve already eaten at college and feel satisfied, but the first thing I do when my mother mentions the dinner is smile.

"I’ll go with you." I affirm, unsure. If my heart raced so much from a distance of Mr. Jeon's son, I can't imagine what will happen if I see him up close. But I'm so curious that I can't avoid it. I want to see him. I want to prove that everything I felt last night wasn’t just a product of my imagination tainted by romance novels.

"The truth is, I wanted to cancel the dinner."

"You didn't cancel, did you?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate. My mother shakes her head, which makes me sigh with relief.

"No, but I'm curious about the guy. I want to see what he's like and make a better judgment about him. I just ask that you don’t get involved with that kind of person. He’s a tattoo artist and lives alone, so young. Who knows what he does alone in a city like Seoul." she says, and I agree with a noise in my throat.

I’m also curious about him, Mom, but not for the same reason as you. I stay silent as I go upstairs to my room. I look for some slightly nicer clothes without much expectation but I don’t have anything different from conservative or old. I feel sad for no reason and convince myself that it doesn’t matter what I choose to wear; a man like the one I saw last night will never be interested in me, no matter what I put on. I quickly shower, then, after my mom calls me from downstairs, I look at myself in the mirror, staring at the dark blue dress that goes down to just below my knees. I roll my eyes and simply go, with little enthusiasm.

My mom has a bowl with a freshly baked cake, and after saying it's for the neighbors, we head out. It’s the house next door, but the short walk feels like an eternity to me. My heart races as we approach, and I let my mom lead the way, walking ahead. She knocks on the door with three taps, and we don’t wait long before Mr. Jeon appears. He’s a man in his fifties, but very handsome and friendly, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and comfortable house slippers. He smiles at both of us, still holding the doorknob and giving us space to enter.

"Good evening, Eunji, good evening, Y/N." he greets us. I nod, a little embarrassed. Unlike Mrs. Jeon, I don’t see him often, as he is very busy with work and doesn’t attend church regularly.

"Good evening, Yejun."

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for having us." I smile, genuinely grateful. I truly like the couple, as every time I see them, they always treat me very well.

"What a polite girl, isn’t she?" he says to my mother in a joking tone, then looks at me kindly. "You don’t need to thank us. We love having you two here. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable."

"I brought a cake for after dinner." my mom says with a smile. "Where is Misuk? I want to give it to her."

"She’s in the kitchen, finishing organizing things. Shall we go there?"

I follow them in silence, having little to do. My mom is more accustomed to the environment, as she comes here a few times for church meetings. I take a few steps toward the kitchen when a noise on the stairs catches my attention. Then he appears, and like magic, everything I felt before resurges, ten thousand times worse. I catch my breath as I see him slowly descending the stairs. He is much taller than me and different from what I imagined, now up close.

His eyes are dark, bright and large, which strangely complements his sharp jawline. His lips are a beautiful pink that makes me run my tongue over my mouth, enchanted by their apparent softness. Pink is now my favorite color. He exudes a powerful aura with his heavy clothes and his body built like a big mountain towering over me, but when he smiles, I am captivated. His smile is sweet, friendly, and inviting, making me want to get closer. However, the thing that catches my attention the most is the eyebrow piercing. My God. What a man.

"Hello, how are you?" he says with a boyish smile, and I blush instantly. I try to maintain a mantra in my mind, repeating several times: calm down, calm down, calm down! "My name is Jungkook, are you my mother’s neighbor?"

"Y-yes." I stammer and almost instinctively close my eyes, frustrated with myself. He smiles even more, squinting his dark eyes as if he finds me amusing.

"Nice to meet you. What’s your name?" he asks with a soft voice, and I feel embarrassed for not having said my name earlier.

"My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you." This time I don’t stammer, but I speak so quietly that I fear he might not have heard me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. My mom talks a lot about you." he says, confirming that yes, he did hear me.

I open my mouth to try to say something, but suddenly my mother appears. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I wanted more chances to talk and discover new things about him, but all I was managing to do was look like an idiot who hasn’t left the house in years, completely antisocial. My shoulders slump, and I follow my mother to the dining room in silence, feeling embarrassed. I can almost feel Jungkook’s presence behind me, but I don’t have the courage to turn around and glimpse his expression. I almost automatically remember him taking off his clothes, showing the tattoos that are now hidden, and I flush even more, almost choking on my own saliva.

"Good evening, Y/N!" Mrs. Jeon smiles at me, already seated at the table. I feel guilty for almost drooling over her son earlier but I smile, greeting her in the same way.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jeon. The smell of the food is delicious, as always." I say, seeing the vegetables on the table and the meat next to it that looks divine. If I hadn’t eaten earlier, I’d be attacking the food, with respect, of course.

"Always so sweet, Y/N." she smiles. "Please, have a seat. Jungkook, sit next to her." she requests. I try to not choke again, just nodding, watching the man I am incredibly attracted to sit to my right side.

His parents and my mom engage in a lively conversation, and I try to pay attention in case they ask me something, but the truth is, I can’t follow along at all. Jungkook eats in silence and occasionally answers my mother’s questions, which I’m sure are meant to gather more material for judgment when we get home, but I can’t follow any of the reasoning. Besides being handsome, polite and kind, he also smells good.

With the clothes he wears and the tattoos decorating his body, I would swear his perfume would be woody and strong, but it’s quite the opposite. His scent reminds me of spring, or nature like a field full of flowers. It’s a scent I could absorb all day. Lost in thought while I play with the fork on my plate and the cabbage kimchi I served myself, I don’t notice him coming closer to me and my ear. My whole body shivers with his breath. I try to not make it too obvious, but I think it’s in vain since I hear his soft laugh even closer to my neck.

"Do you want to go to the kitchen, Y/N?" Jungkook asks in a whisper so close that I look around just to make sure no one is watching, especially my mother, who seems to have already formed a prejudiced opinion about him.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper, confused.

"I want to ask you something." he smiles crookedly, which makes me even more disturbed. I nod, still unsure about what I’m agreeing to. He quickly stands up, and I almost instantly follow him. When we get to the kitchen, he turns around quickly, watching me attentively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"W-what do you want to ask me?" I swallow nervously.

"I was thinking whether I should talk to you about this, but after meeting you tonight, I think it’s for the best, anyway." he says with a serious face. His previously relaxed attitude changes completely, as if all the fun from earlier had drained away.

I become worried, my mind filled with questions, until something occurs to me. What if last night, somehow, he realized I was watching him? My body turns to jelly at the thought, and my heart beats faster as I look at his face. I would die, seriously. I would fall to the ground and never wake up again. My hands tremble as I wait for his question.

"Are you and my mother very close?" he asks in a whisper, this time with a weak voice, looking at his own intertwined hands. I nod in agreement, even more confused. Since Mrs. Jeon moved to my city, we’ve become something like friends, despite the significant age difference. I consider her, even if mistakenly, like a mother.

"Yes. I think we have a close relationship. Why the question?" he shifts uncomfortably. He tries to smile but can’t. I am worried but silent, waiting for his answer.

"My mother is sick, Y/N." he says quietly, with a weak voice. My eyes widen at the news. I never imagined this is what he wanted to talk to me about. From his seriousness, it seems to be something very grave. "That’s why I came to the city. She had depression years ago and last month she tried to take her own life for some reason."

"She didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure." I say as much as I can, still shaken and shocked. Mrs. Jeon seems so happy lately that I could never imagine something like this. My eyes fill with tears, but I try to contain the flood of emotions inside me, embarrassed to act this way with a previously unknown person.

"I know. I was shocked when I found out." he explains, running his fingers through his dark hair as if he were tired. "She wants to spare people from the situation, but I wish everyone could know and support her. She shouldn’t be thinking about anyone’s well-being right now, except her own. That’s why I came to Busan, to take care of her."

"I understand." I whisper with a lump in my throat. I want to take his trembling hands and assure him that everything will be okay, but I don’t have that much courage. I wish I were casual and authentic and had the ease to simply say what I’m thinking. It’s the first time that not being this way makes me upset and sad. I wish I could be someone else right now. I wish I could help more.

"I apologize for bringing this up so suddenly. I hope I haven’t ruined your evening. I’m sorry." he smiles awkwardly, puffing his cheeks, and a previously hidden dimple appears. His face turns red and I can’t help but like him even more.

"Don’t worry. Really. Thank you for telling me the truth. I want to help in any way I can. I'll try to keep her company more often."

"Thank you so much, Y/N." he smiles, with his eyes shining. "I knew it was a good idea to tell you the truth. I knew I could count on you."

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:) Sleepwalking: Due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend's band. You thought you've both made peace with it, but suddenly he's very eager to prove to you that first love never dies. https://taexual.tumblr.com/post/728185560199577601/sleepwalking-1-jjk

I'd Love To Stay But That's Simply Insane: Jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you're a goal-oriented top student that's known his rich and complicated family since childhood. You don't want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do. https://taexual.tumblr.com/post/616477412997414912/id-love-you-to-stay-but-thats-simply-insane

Pub Golf: One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. https://taleasnewastime.tumblr.com/post/667208016185212928/summary-one-night-one-stupidly-hot-man-who-just

Yes Coach: You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point. https://taleasnewastime.tumblr.com/post/653257951195365376/yes-coach

Tempter: 𝐓hey told tales of the twilight creature to the loveless ones that roamed the woods at the sun’s setting hour. When the orange rays crept through the living, breathing trees and painted the soil gold, made the poison ivy too beautiful and inviting to 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. They spoke of a beauty that they could not describe, of a voice that reflected the purity of heaven alongside the burning fires of hell as he prayed upon them. https://themfchase.tumblr.com/post/615289283146842112/%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%8C%F0%9D%90%8F%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%91-%F0%9D%98%9B%F0%9D%98%A9% F0%9D%98%A6-%F0%9D%98%9B%F0%9D%98%B8%F0%9 D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AD%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%A8%F0%9D%98%A9%F0%9D%98%B5-%F0%9D%98%8A%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D %98%A6%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%B5%F0%9D%98%B6%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%A6-jjk

Raven Unit: With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook.  https://themfchase.tumblr.com/post/189288109708/raven-unit-i-m-jjk

Hate Me: You really do hate Jeon Jungkook. You hate everything about him. From his strong veiny arms to his obnoxiously pretty face.   https://themfchase.tumblr.com/post/632321712395026432/hate-me-m-jjk The Art Of Wanting: You find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you. https://www.tumblr.com/venusiangguk/643372881526554624/pairing-jungkook-x-reader-dilfjk-x-grocery?source=embed

Down The Rabbit Hole: Yoongi's sister buys tickets to the Autumn ball held within the Meadows, a notorious city known for its hybrid inhabitants where she hopes to meet a certain bunny princeling. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781145 Rabbit Season: Predator met prey like an Animal Planet rerun of lions devouring antelopes in large, unremorseful bites. He took every aspect of this game seriously. He was competitive where most might not think so in this particular arena. His behavior projected through television, even while in person, was an act, perhaps the best he’d ever performed in front of his every day audience. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781727

[imtherain]

Why We Wake

Heyo

Fun fact about me, my first love in life was Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, so as one would imagine, I'm taking the new movie, EXTREMELY well and I am SO normal about it.

Here's the first fanfic I've finished for him this time around. Just a little fic, but I said I'd post it if people liked my last post, and I am nothing if not susceptible to that brand of peer pressure.

Anywho...

Warnings: None really, it's pretty short and kinda cute. There's a storm, there's no smut, reader is jealous/avoidant of her feelings because of Jean... I guess it's vaguely friends to lovers? idk

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Plot:

Where it's storming and you go to wander the mansion because you can't seem to sleep. You run into Logan, who also can't sleep, and he was looking for you. 

It had been stormy most of the afternoon, distant thunder and sheets of rain. While the mansion was awake, the noises didn’t bother you. Most of the time, even when it was quiet, storms didn’t really affect you much either. But tonight, as the mansion fell silent and the storm built outside, you found it impossible to settle for the night. You dozed for maybe five whole minutes, but kept finding yourself awake. You tossed and turned until eventually, you gave up.

Like most of the night dwellers, you found your restless feet circling the common areas. Someone was in the lounge flicking through the tv. A couple of the teenagers were whispering in the library as you peaked in and passed by. You figured, since you couldn’t sleep, might as well make the rounds in case someone asked what you were up to. You were supposed to be one of the responsible adults after all.

You weren’t sure why exactly, but after you finished the normal route around the school, your feet took you down the opposite side of the living spaces, causing you to come around the long way on your way back to your room. You really didn’t know why you even bothered to go back towards bed, you would have had better luck sleeping somewhere else. It didn’t matter much though, because your feet stilled outside a door that wasn’t yours.

You and Logan had circled each other for a long time.

But you’d seen the looks that had passed between him and Jean too many times to ever feel like there could be room in his heart for you. You figured you might settle for room in his bed, but you’d never really been the casual type. So all this time you had wanted, and yet, you had stayed, quite purposefully, away. 

But it never prevented the way he flirted with you.

And it never prevented the ache you felt for him.

The door in front of you suddenly swung open and you found yourself face to face with the man himself. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt. From the way he had half zipped it, you could tell he hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on underneath. 

“Hey,” His voice was gravel and surprise. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You smirked back. He grinned to himself and nodded.

“Storm’s too loud,” He said. “Was going to go see if you were awake. Maybe ask you to sing me a lullaby.” You felt that familiar heat bloom in your chest. Logan often said things like that to you, and if you didn’t know better, you might have even believed he meant it. 

“Sure you were,” You rolled your eyes at him.

He probably said the same things to Jean when he bumped into her.

“What are you doing down this far?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised now. The heat from your chest grew as he watched you blush. “As I recall, your room is on the other side,” 

“It is,” You agreed. “I was walking rounds,” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame to watch you squirm. 

“In the teacher dorms?” His stupid face was so full of mirth you could almost forget the gnawing in your ribcage. 

“Teachers need to be checked on too,” you snapped back, crossing your arms defensively. 

You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, so why did you feel so guilty?

“Find anything good?” He was smirking at you and you wanted to look away but you couldn’t. You liked it when he smiled at you like that. Even if at some point, the moment would end and you’d be alone again.

“What?”

“On your rounds. Find anything… good?” You weren't sure you understood the pause or why it felt loaded. 

“Not at all, a few kids in the library, a straggler here and there,” You told him. “And you,” he hummed at that.

“Wanna come in?” Logan asked with a nod of his head to signal the room behind him. You'd been alone with him before, and had been in his room plenty of times for a moment or two. 

“Yeah, sure,” You agreed easily. If nothing else, just spending some time with him might help you relax. It usually did, though you would never tell anyone exactly why. 

And you didn’t pay any mind to the little thoughts in your head that spoke of the sorts of sordid things people could do behind a closed door on a stormy night. And while you knew Logan flirted, you also knew he wasn’t going to do anything to you that you wouldn’t like or want or ask for.

Logan moved to push the door open enough that you could slip under his arm and go inside his room. He followed, closing the door behind him. 

The room looked almost identical to yours in form, but you had decorated yours to fit you. Logan’s room looked like no one had lived in it yet, other than the jacket thrown on a chair, a couple pairs of boots, and the fact it smelled like him.

How a room could smell just like him surprised you, but only because he didn’t seem to have been in any one place long enough to leave that sort of trace behind. But he had been at the school far longer than you, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise you.

You watched as Logan made his way back to his bed and slid himself under the covers. He remained sitting up, back against the headboard, as he waved you closer.

“I won’t bite,” Logan’s smile said he might if you asked. You were ok risking it either way.

“I’m not afraid of you,” You teased him, joining him under the blankets. Just like friends at a sleepover. You were surprised at how warm the bed was already. Surprised too, at how you were chilled from your little walk.

“Shame,” Logan mused, shifting so that his arm was around you. You felt the heat from your chest swell again, but you were desperate not to notice it. Not to read into things. “What do you say to spending the night here?” 

“Here?” You mused. You knew Logan could hear your heartbeat speed up. Honestly, it wouldn't have taken enhanced hearing to notice.

“I think the company would do us both some good,” He continued. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow.

“Are you afraid of the storm?” You ask, incredulous.

“Not afraid, it’s just… really loud. I’d rather listen to something else,” You could feel him watching you but you weren’t brave enough to meet his eyes. This could go a couple of ways, and most of them ended with you crying in your bathroom tomorrow.

“Do earplugs not help since your hearing is so good?” You asked, trying to dispel the tension.

“Pretty much,” You jumped when you felt him press his lips to your bare shoulder. You weren’t sure if you were glad for your tank top or not. “You ok with this?” 

“More than I should be, yeah,” Your chest felt tight. It was nerves and it was that ache that always seemed to show up when Logan was nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His breath fanned against your neck, but he paused in his movements.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Jean,” You told him. “I don’t want to be your consolation prize,” You didn’t have the strength to stop him when he shifted to rest his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Then you haven’t seen the way I look at you,” His voice was a whisper against your skin. You shivered as he pressed another chaste kiss there.

“I guess I haven’t,” You agree, equally soft. You wondered how you never made the connection that anytime you did look at him, his eyes always happened to be on you. Did he really look at you like that? 

“I can hear your heart racing,” Logan chuckled, his lips on the shell of your ear. “Tell me you don’t want this,” 

“Tell me that you do,” You countered, eyes screwed shut.

“I do,” He almost purrs. “God, I’ve wanted you since the first day you walked into this mansion.” Another kiss against your jaw and you couldn’t help but move so he had better access to kiss your throat. “With your giant ass wheeled suitcase… and that fucking sundress,” He groaned when he felt your hand on his arm, squeezing him in response to the memory. You had always been so busy trying not to catch his eye for fear of finding him looking at someone else. “I’ve dreamed about you in that dress…and you cruelly haven’t worn it since,” 

Turns out you really had missed him looking at you.

“It didn’t seem as appropriate once I got here,” You manage around the blood racing through your body. Your heart was working overtime, beating so loud you couldn’t even hear the thunder anymore.

“Maybe you should wear it for me when I get to take you out,” Logan chuckled as your ears turned pink. He was so close to you, shrouding you from the night and the storm outside. It was so different than you expected it to be, but you welcomed it either way.

“You want to take me out?” 

“If you’ll let me,” He sits back to look at you. “Though if you just want to fuck, I guess that’s fine too,” 

You were surprised at the way his eyes hardened at the thought that this might just be carnal. You may not have known everything that had happened to him in his life, but it wasn’t hard to guess that there had been a number of times when people just wanted to use him. For fighting, for fucking, for whatever, his own feelings be damned.

You never wanted to make him feel like that.

“I’d love for you to take me out,” You told him, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. Logan grinned, leaning into your touch. Before you thought better of it, you leaned forward and covered his mouth with yours. 

Logan seemed pleased by this, adjusting so that he was over you, working you both down the bed so that he could settle himself with his hips cradled in your welcoming thighs. His lips never leaving yours.

“When are you free next?” Logan asked, panting after the long kiss broke for a moment. 

“I don’t know,” You roll your eyes at him. “We’ve got other things to do right now,” You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you as he knit his brow, seeming to wonder what you meant. You just pulled him down to kiss you again.

Eventually, you both settled in for the night, exhausted all at once. Logan was using you as a pillow, his head resting just above your hip, one arm reaching up between your thighs so he could tease the skin around your navel with his strong fingers, tracing circles and nonsense into your flesh. Holding you like his favorite pillow.

You were resting comfortably amongst his pillows, one hand reaching down to the back of his head to play with his hair.

“I think the storm passed,” You muse, not really meaning anything by it.

“There’s more coming,” Logan told you. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay right here and listen to you instead,” you felt him nip gently at your hip and you squirmed.

“I don’t mind at all,” You smiled at the ceiling while Logan adjusted himself around you.

“Good,” He mumbled, already halfway to sleep. You couldn’t help the grin on your face as you felt his breathing even out. 

Maybe you woke up just for this.

Either way, you were more than happy to play pillow, and soon enough, you were just as asleep as he was.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)

[juqtier]

☆◞: IM ALWAYS JUST A DOOR AWAY ✧ SPENCER REID

SPENCER REID X FEM READER

SUMMARY: when you moved in to your new apartment, you never imagined your neighbor, spencer reid, would be such a nightmare. he wasn’t your favorite guy. in fact, you hated him. unfortunately for you, you can never seem to escape him. the universe clearly has other plans for you two.

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption in some chapters, angsty, arguing, spencer is kind of (definitely) an asshole, kissing, cursing, somewhat darker plot points as story progresses (this is my first ever full story fanfic! so it might be bad…) this will also be 10 parts so yayyy

GENRE: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

⋆·˚ ༘ *

chapter 1 : a nightmare..

✎Was it even possible to hate someone so much that even the thought of them made your blood boil?

You never thought that was even possible. You were always trying to see the best in people, even if they were rude to you. That all changed when you moved next door to Spencer Reid.

Spencer Reid

The bane of your existence.

You had moved into your first apartment alone, with the help of your parents loaning some money and your waitressing job, when you had the unpleasant experience of meeting him.

God, he was so stuck up and pretentious. Getting to know him might have been your biggest regret.

The first day you met him, he immediately gave you an attitude.

You weren’t all that familiar with this area, so you took it upon yourself to try and make friends with the neighbors.

As you walk up to the door and knock, you become excited at the potential of a new friendship.

Behind the door, you can hear a quiet, muffled voice and some shuffling before it’s opened to reveal a rather tall man looking down at you.

“Yes?” He sounded a bit annoyed, yet you continued your introduction.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor! My name is-“

“Cool, I’m really busy, and if it isn’t important, don’t bother me.” The man quickly shuts the door.

You were so puzzled and quite upset.

Who just shuts the door on someone’s face like that?

-‘๑’-

However, after some time, you forgave it. Everyone has bad days; everyone is very busy at some point. Maybe he was just overwhelmed, right?

That was until you saw him again, in the parking lot of the apartments.

You found out his name was Spencer Reid from some other neighbors. This only made you more interested in getting to know him, or at least being civil with each other.

You were getting out of your car after returning home from work when you saw him coming down the stairs to the parking lot. Trying to be friendly, you waved and smiled.

“Hello!” Your expression was bright and kind, as always. Something Spencer never seemed to return. He visibly rolled his eyes at you, rushing to his car.

Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to offend him? Do I have something stuck in my teeth

Your thoughts ran wild, doubting every interaction you have had with anyone before. Were you just annoying? You barely had a conversation with the man; how could he find you annoying?

Maybe he just sucked?

-‘๑’-

For months, your interactions were the same. You’d attempt to be friendly, and he’d quickly (and quite rudely) shut you down. You had convinced yourself he was just a busy man until you were proven right. He just sucked.

Friday, 10:49 pm

Music played throughout your living room as you unwinded on your couch. The weekend had just begun, so you decided to finally relax. Work had been extra shitty today, and you felt you deserved a break. You sat on your couch, reading a book, as your favorite songs played when you heard a knock at the door.

Who could be knocking so late?

Placing your book down and quickly turning the music off, you rush to answer the door.

As it opened, you'd never been more confused to see Spencer Reid standing in front of you.

“Uh, hi? Is something wro-”

“Can you turn the music down?” He seemingly snaps, not even letting you finish your sentence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have it so lo-”

“If you’re going to blare your music, you shouldn’t have such terrible taste.”

You were taken aback. You were used to the interruptions, the eye rolling, even being completely ignored. But now, he was just being plain rude.

“What? I said I’m sorry.. What’s your problem?”

You were almost about to snap at him. It took all of your power to not rip into him, calling him every name you could think of.

“My problem? My problem is that ever since you moved here, I can’t get even a moment of peace. Some people have jobs and commitments.”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Spencer. I’ve done nothing to you, but all you’ve done is be an asshole to me!”

Your anger and frustration seemed to boil over in that exact moment, not caring if you hurt his feelings anymore.

“Actu-”

“No, let me talk for once. I don’t know where you work or what you do to make you think you are so morally superior to me, but fuck. You are so fucking mean.“

He seemed shocked at the sudden outburst, as you only ever showed him your bright and bubbly side. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting the blow-up.

“You don’t get to talk down to me because you’re in a pissy mood. So leave me the fuck alone.”

With that, you slam your door in his face and quickly turn around. Your fists clench as you storm to your room and flop onto your bed, letting out a groan of frustration.

God, he was a nightmare.

-‘๑’-

PT 2

a.n : sorry if this sucks or is boring! i’ve never wrote a story like this before but i hope it’s okay!

[gyuwoncheol]

Cheol’s been prepping you to take his cock for weeks but you’re about to body slam him into the mattress if he doesn’t fuck you right now (which might have been what he wanted all along, corruption kink go brrrr) 😈 “you want it so bad? Then sit on it. Aww don’t be scared I know you’re ready” -⚡️

TW: afab! reader, dirty talk, use of pet names, piv sex, unprotected sex, mentions of creampie and oral sex, bratty & whiny reader, reader is described to be much smaller than Cheol. Not proofread. 18+ only (MDNI).

Note: changed it up a little bit, ⚡️ anon. Hope you enjoy!

Because this is blonde cheol with a bratty reader, I am compelled to tag Zeta my love @multi-kpop-fanfics . It’s simply how the world works 💞

“Nooo. Stop!” You whined and yanked on Seungcheol’s blonde locks, pulling him back up to face you.

Seungcheol was confused to say the least. His eyebrows quirking as he studies your facial expressions. “You okay?”

“Just fuck me, Cheol,” you blurt out, frustration clear in your voice and Seungcheol swears he heard the angels sing.

“What–“

“I said, fuck me. No more teasing, no more prepping. I’m done!” You glare at him. Not that you were ungrateful for your boyfriend’s expert oral skills, but when all you’ve gotten the past few days ever since his return from a 3-month tour is everything but his cock, you think it’s okay to sound ungrateful.

“Aw, impatient baby,” he mocks as he grinds his crotch on yours.

“Excuse me?! I’ve been patient! Way too patient! Three months and 18 days patient!!!!” Cheol laughs at your attention to detail, clearly amused at how needy you’ve been. Not that he wasn’t— he was, he’s been dreaming to have his way with you the moment he got home four days ago. But apparently, he could take a few more days of waiting, making sure you were well prepped and ready to take his huge cock again after so long. And maybe he just loved to tease you a little bit more, waiting to awaken the brat in you. “Cmon, Cheollie..” you switch up to a sweet tone, blinking with doe eyes and drawing his face to yours for a kiss, “it’s been too long, don’t you wanna feel my tight pussy around you?”

Seungcheol’s dick twitches in the confines of his briefs at your words but he tries to play it cool with a roll of his eyes.

“Better yet baby, don’t you miss cumming inside—“

Your sentence is cut off with a yelp as the large man who was once above you rolls you both around on the bed, effectively having him pinned between your legs, straddling him right where he wants you. Seungcheol grabs you harshly to connect your mouths in a hungry kiss, the clashing of your tongues and teeth rendering you to a moaning mess while you hurriedly remove his shorts and undergarments.

When Cheol’s hard member springs free and rests on his stomach, the blonde man leans back to examine your next move. He’s not disappointed when the first thing you do is run your wet folds along his shaft. The guttural groan he lets out makes you even more wet than you already are. But that’s a good thing because now you’re looking at Cheol’s thick and long cock, and perhaps he did make the right decision to prep you for it for days.

“Nervous, baby?” He asks with that stupid brow raise of his.

“No,” you answer without hesitation but even then, you didn’t sound so confident.

“Well be my guest, princess. What’re you waiting for? You wanted it so bad didn’t you? Ride me.”

You nodded at Seungcheol, swallowing thickly before wrapping your small hand around his heavy shaft. You aligned him at your entrance, carefully letting his bulbuous head breach your sopping hole. Cheol takes notice when you suck in a sharp breath and close your eyes. It happens the same time he feels the constricting push of your walls which has his hands flying to eitherside of your hips.

“Doing s’good for me, princess,” he encourages, mustering all self control not to just thrust up into you.

“S-so biiig,” you stammer, sinking down to ease another inch of him.

“Not so mad about my prep anymore, eh?”

You roll your eyes at the smug remark, “fuck you.”

“You already are, prin— shit!” Seungcheol curses when you suddenly seat yourself fully to shut him up.

Moans reverberate around the room from both of you after your little stunt. The stretch is painful at first but it slowly morphs into fiery pleasure with every soothing rub of Cheol’s thumb on your hip. You take a deep breath and plant your palms on his chest, circling your hips once.

“Fuuuuck,” you both drawl out, lust fully flowing through your veins.

“Missed this,” you pick up your pace, repeating the motions of lifting your hips then grinding down to stimulate your clit.

“Missed you,” your boyfriend replies. He reaches out one hand to squeeze on your breast before his fingers roll your nipple expertly, causing you to clench harshly on his cock.

“Fuck, princess. If you do that again, I might just cum now.”

You scoff at his remark, ready to tease him back, “aw, who’s the impatient one now?”

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 003: Do. Not. Get. Attached l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader| ✰ wc: 2.9k | ✰ cw: profanity, angst, sexual themes, kissing | ✰ plot: your friends catch on to the fact that you might actually be falling for this nerd, but their reaction to it sends you on a wild mission to try and convince them otherwise... [Series Masterlist]

"So...how'd everything go with Ponytail?" Dongmin asked Chanyoung at the cafe, after his shift.

"It actually went alright. That cheerleader isn't too bad," he shrugged as he sat in the chair across from him.

"Did you make any progress?"

"With her assignments? Not really. We had a little incident and just ended up hanging out for a bit after that."

"Well, don't get too cozy, alright."

"What do you mean? You're the one who got me hooked up with her in the first place."

"I know man, but just be careful. Remember that we're a part of different worlds."

"So what? Are you trying to say she's out of my league?"

"I-I just don't want you to get your heart broken again..."

"What are you talking about. We literally just met."

"I know but--"

"You're acting like I proposed to her. We're just friends. Relax," he said before taking a bite of pizza. He picked some up for the two of them to eat here.

For the next few weeks, you continued to see him. First, it was only 3 days out of the week, but by now it had escalated to 5 days. Your feelings for him grew, but you had to keep your little crush a secret, at least for now.

"I'm telling you right now. Do. Not. Get. Attached," Xoey said. She decided to join you at the cafe today. "I can see it in your eyes that you like him more than you're letting on."

"Let's just say I do like him. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Are you insane? You're literally just using him to get your grades up. Any type of romance is out of the question," Xoey snapped.

"Can you believe she hasn't given him anything to help her?" Abigail chimed in.

"Nothing?" her eyes widened. "Hmm...interesting. Do you think he likes her back?"

"Eww. He better fucking not," Abigail rolled her eyes. "I swear if these two ever start dating, I'd actually vomit..."

"He's really not that bad," you shrugged.

"They have so many hot guys on the football team that you could easily pull. Don't settle for that dork," Abigail spat. You knew very well that she meant every word she said.

"Relax! I don't even like him like that. I already told you, I'm just being his friend so he can pull my grades up," you spat.

"Wait, wait, wait! So let me get one thing straight," Xoey interjected. "You two have just been buddy-buddy this whole time? You've never slept with him? Not even once?"

"Nope."

"Anything sexual at all? Maybe even a kiss?"

"She hasn't opened anything but her laptop for that geek," Abigail sighed as you shook your head.

"Okay, well if you really don't like him and it's all about the grades how about you prove it to us by kissing Nicholas," Xoey smirked.

"Omg, he is so fine," Abigail nearly moaned at the meer thought of him.

"Yeah, I know. And a little birdie told me that he's been looking at our girl. So this is gonna be a piece of cake," she grinned folding her hands together.

"Oh and to make it even better, you have to tell him that you've liked him forever," Abigail added.

"In front of sweet little Channie," Xoey spat.

"Girls, this is ridiculous," you wailed. "I already said I don't like him. I'm just using him for my grades. I seriously only see him as a friend," you lied.

"Do it and we won't hunt down your fanboy and tell him that you couldn't care less about him," Xoey raised an eyebrow as she leaned over the table, lowering her voice.

"And that you're just using him for the semester," Abigail added. "You've already told us how you're just gonna drop him anyway. So why not rip off the band-aid now?"

"Fine, fine! I'll do it," you exclaimed. "But not in front of him...that'll be too awkward."

Maybe it was the peer pressure of wanting to be accepted that influenced your decision. But whatever it was, there was some damage control you had to do first.

"So, what are we working on today," Chanyoung smiled as you sat down next to him.

"Hmm... well I finished writing one of my English assignments last night. Maybe you could just look over it for me first and then we can work on something else."

"Alright," he nodded as you slid your computer over to him and began scrolling through the contents of your essay.

“Umm…Chanyoung?”

“You can just call me Chan. It sounds less…formal,” he smiled.

“Okay. Well, do you have anything planned this weekend?”

“No, not really. Why?” He asked, turning away from the screen to look at you.

“I was wondering if maybe…you wanted to go out with me. N-not like a date or anything,” you chuckled. “Just as friends.”

“Yeah sure. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway.”

“Great!” You smiled. “How do you feel about a movie at…I don’t know…6?”

“Yeah, 6 sounds good,” he laughed, admiring how sweet you were with him. Even though you said this would be a friendly date, you wanted to be more than that with him.

So what if your friends don’t like him. They’ll just have to get over it. After all, you just had to kiss Nicholas one time. It's not like you were signing yourself over in marriage, right?

"Well, umm...let's get back to studying and maybe we can hang out before you go to practice," he said, returning to the screen.

After cheer practice, Abigail dropped you off at home as usual. You waved to your parents and went straight to your room to clean yourself up for the night.

"Honey," your mom's voice called when you were in the bathroom. "When you're finished, your father and I would like to have a talk with you."

"Okay, I'm almost finished," you replied, before you heard her footsteps trail down the hall.

You had a very good feeling about what this conversation would be about. Lucky for you, you had the right answer.

"How are your grades looking?" your father asked as you sat on the couch.

"I'm actually doing a lot better," you nodded.

"Can you go get your laptop so I can see how they've improved?" he asked.

"Sure," you said before leaving the room. This conversation was just about as stale as you expected it to be. "Here it is," you turned the laptop to him, revealing your grades.

Politics — 85.97%

English — 94.81%

Math — 78.12%

Geography — 89.54%

"I have a few more assignments due this week that should bring my grades up even more," you smiled.

"This is great!" you mother chimed.

"I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but it's because we want you to succeed. I'm just glad to see that you're taking action on your own," your father began. "Without a tutor," he added.

You knew that wasn't completely true, but it's the lie you had to tell to keep everyone happy.

"Thanks," you said, closing the computer.

"Oh, before you go I wanted to address an issue," your father said as you were about to walk away. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that I froze your cards. Well, since you're obviously doing better I think you've earned that privilege back."

"Wow...I've never seen my dad so proud of me," you thought to yourself. "Then again, I've never let my grades drop like this."

"Goodnight, honey and keep up the good work," your parents smiled before you walked back to your room.

You wished that Chan was in your room right now so you could hug him. He's taken so much pressure off that you've even completed some of the assignments on your own. Meeting up with him has forced you to delegate time to your studies and giving him your login information was one of the best choices you made.

The next day at practice, you walked in to see one of your cheer mates in tears.

"What's going on?" you whispered to Janice. Abigail and the other girls were busy trying to console her.

"Word got out that Reina had been sleeping with another student to help her pass classes. Which is obviously a breach of the student code of conduct," she sighed leaning against one of the red lockers.

"So what's gonna happen to her?"

"Well, she's being suspended for the rest of the semester and will have a zero in all her courses, effective immediately. On top of that, she'll be on academic probation. Meaning, she'll be kicked from the cheer squad until she can complete a semester on her own with a GPA of 2.5 or higher."

You thought about the situation you were in right now. "That could've easily been me," you thought to yourself as you looked down at your feet. "If my parents ever found out about my little rendevous with Chanyoung they'd never trust me again..."

"Chanyoung," you gasped as you bumped into him in the halls.

"Heh, I didn't expect to see you here," he smiled.

"Well, it was nice seeing you Ponytail. But we kinda got somewhere to be," Dongmin spat as he grabbed onto Chanyoung's arm.

"Oh sorry, I wasn't trying to hold you up," you replied.

"No, it's alright. We were just going to grab something to eat before heading over to my place," Chanyoung said, turning back to you. "You can join us if you want."

"No, she can't," Dongmin interjected. "I'm sure she has something else to do."

"Dude--"

"No, he's right," you smiled, cutting him off. "I was just on my way to meet up with the girls. But maybe next time?"

"Yeah, definitely," he smiled, which just made Dongmin roll his eyes. "Oh, we're still on for this weekend right?"

"Yeah, totally," you chimed before jogging off to catch up with your friends.

"Eh hm? This weekend? What are you doing with her this weekend?"

"None of your business," Chan teased.

"What do you mean none of my business? You wouldn't even be talking to her if it weren't for me."

"Okay? I don't even see how that matters right now," Chan scoffed.

"Because you're falling for Ponytail and I can tell. I thought you didn't like cheerleaders. I guess everything's different now that you're holding hands with one?"

"Pft, what!?"

"Don't start playing dumb. It's written all over your stupid ass face. Every time she comes around and every time you talk about her you have that dumbass grin."

"Okay? So, what?"

"So you admit it? You do like her?"

"Yeah, I do. What's wrong with that?"

"She's so out of your league it isn't even funny."

"We're not in high school anymore. We can date whoever we want. Cliques don't exist here."

"Yes, they fucking do, but ever since you've been working for that high-strung cheering ditz you haven't been able to think straight."

"This is so fucking stupid. I'm not doing this with you, okay."

"The old you would've never been so blind."

"What are you talking about?"

"That bitch is two-faced as fuck," Dongmin spat.

"Whatever, man. You're just saying that because you're jealous."

"Jealous? God, you sound so much like those cock sucking sluts," Dongmin shook his head. "Wait, I just remembered that you're not even getting that from her, huh?" he chuckled. "She's just using you. She can't even bring herself to have romantic feelings for you. She's just pretending to be your friend so you can keep being her lovestruck slave."

"If you're gonna keep acting like that, I'd rather you just shut the fuck up."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Fuck no and I'm honestly tired of hearing you bitch."

"Fine, you can go back to living out your little fantasy, but don't come crying to me when you find out I'm right."

"I think I'm gonna go home on my own tonight," Chan shook his head before walking off, leaving Dongmin behind. "See ya tomorrow, man."

"Yeah...later..."

Remembering the dare from yesterday you decided to go find Nicholas and "confess" to him. This really just meant setting up a situation where a kiss wouldn't seem so awkward. You just weren't really the type to randomly put your lips on someone.

"Hey, Nick," you smiled as you approached him in the hallway.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Well...I heard from someone that you've been looking at me," he smirked as he anticipated the next thing you were gonna say. "So..."

"So?"

"So, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out this weekend?"

"Umm lemme just check my schedule real quick," he chuckled, pulling out his phone to swipe his thumb across the screen. "Yep, this weekend sounds perfect. I'll pick you up at 5, okay."

"5?"

"Yeah, I have football practice until 3:45 and I still gotta shower and stuff."

"Oh...okay. Well, 5 sounds good," you smiled feinly.

"Alright, well I'll have to catch up with you later. I think you already have my number so if you wanna talk tonight we can," he smirked before pulling you in for a hug.

"Okay, I'll try to call you tonight if I'm not too busy," you said as he hugged you one more time before jogging to high-five the group of boys that waited at the other end of the hall.

As much as you wanted to see Chanyoung today, he was busy taking care of something with his brother. This gave you a little more time to bond with Nicholas...or Nick as you liked to call him.

"Hey, ____," Nicholas waved as he walked into the courtyard. "I got out of practice early today. If you're not busy did you wanna catch up a bit now?"

"Yeah, sure," you smiled.

One thing your friends didn't know was that you had a past with Nicholas. The two of you went to school together from Pre-K to 5th grade--middle school is when you both went your separate ways.

Though you never moved, Nicholas' father was stationed outside of the country. Fate had it that the two of you reconnected.

You thought back to the time he gave you a candy ring for your "wedding" in 1st grade. Even though you were just kids, it still felt so special.

It really sucked when he moved away that summer, but he made sure to send you a card on your birthday every year.

"Okay, so I have one question," he began as he walked beside you.

"What's that?"

"Did you really wanna go out with me? Or is this part of some master plan?"

"Uhh, why would you think that?" you scoffed.

"Come on, ____. I'm not stupid. I know when someone's trying to jerk me around."

"He always was quick," you thought to yourself. "Okay, fine."

"Yup, I knew it," he chuckled. "So what was it? A dare? A competition?"

"It was a dare...some of the girls from my squad think I like this guy--"

"Well are they right?"

"Yeah, but they don't really approve of him."

"So what? If you like him and he's a great guy who cares what your friends think?"

"Hmm...yeah I guess you're right."

"Ooooof course I am."

"Well, I still gotta do the dare...I already agreed to it."

"Okay," he laughed. "But what exactly do you have to do?"

"You're not gonna like this...."

"Just tell me."

"I have to kiss you..."

"That's it?"

"And tell you that I've liked you forever," though you were dared to say this, at one point (before you got to know Chanyoung) that was true.

"Easy-peasy," he smiled before pulling your in by your waist for a kiss.

"Nick!" you exclaimed as he burst out into laughter.

"Relax, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you," he smiled. "Here, I'll do it properly this time," he leaned in before gently placing a kiss on your lips. "How's that," he asked.

"Much better, but you can do it on my cheek next time," you tapped the plush of your cheek.

"Like this?" he playfully pecked your cheek.

"Yes!" you laughed. "You're enjoying the hell out of this and I know it," you smiled as he wrapped his arm around you.

"I'll drop you off at home tonight."

"Hmm? Why?"

"Well I kinda wanna go raid the gas station and I think I'd like you to be my partner in crime. I mean it's only fair. After all you're just using me to complete a dare."

"Hmm, okay. Well, let's get started now," you smiled as he walked you to his car.

"Hey," Chanyoung said dryly.

"Look, I know you don't wanna hear this, but there's something you gotta know about Ponytail."

"What is it now," he sighed.

"Earlier today, I saw her getting all gushy over this jock. And I don't mean some silly conversation. I saw them kissing. She's duping you, man."

Chanyoung sat in silence for a short while before finally speaking again. "You're not gonna stop, are you?"

"What are you talking about, Chan? I just gave you proof."

"No, what you gave me was some more bullshit stories you sat around concocting all day."

"Dude, I--"

"I don't wanna argue about this again, okay. Just drop it already."

"Chan..."

"Forget it...I'm going to sleep."

Later that night, after Nicholas dropped you off, you laid across your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you though to yourself...

"How the hell am I gonna be in two places at once?"

Thanks for reading the second episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

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[ksyongi]

a turn of events

synopsis - a mingyu wonwoo fanfic where you wake up naked from a drunken night spent with mingyu which changes your life.

genre - romance, smut, childhood friends to lovers

pairing - childhoodbsf!wonwoo x reader x childhoodbsf!mingyu

wc: approx 4.8k

NSFW - MINORS DNI

warnings: mentions of rain, use of pet names, teeny bit of jealousy, smut ; dirty talk, dom!wonu, dom!gyu, sub!reader, oral(f) and oral(m) wonu being a tad bit rough but it's soft a tad bit too. written with the thought of the reader being on birth control btw so no accidents🙈(lmk if i missed out anything)

an: A BIG BIG THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO HELPED ME ON THIS !! i started on this like last december and man this too way to long with my procrastination but anyway, i hope its okay because i'm not experienced with writing a lot of smut, do lmk if you guys want a pt.2 :) <3

m.list

Yeah, a few drinks huh… You did not know a few drinks would end up with you waking up fully naked a room, hell you barely remember anything. You turn your head and see a bunch of photo frames placed on the desk.

You slowly get up and let an out an audible 'fuck' when you felt the pain between your legs. They must've gone hard on you huh…

You take one in your hands and see two boys in it. Bringing it closer to your face and to it had to be your highschool friends. Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo, the school's most well known pair of basketball players. Their dynamic worked so well on court that they had been awarded the captain and vice. 

The question everybody had was how they managed to get along? With Mingyu's big ego and Wonwoo's quiet, introverted personality, nobody could understand. You found yourself hanging out with the duo sometimes, they are honestly considered as your best friends. You've invited them to your house multiple times but last night was a first when going to their house since they just recently moved in.

They decided it was a great idea to hold a party after moving into their new house and to get it dirty from all the spilled drinks and litter. You don't even know whose room you were in, you haven't even had the time to familiarize yourself with the home before getting yourself drunk. What a smart move. The week's earlier events had been too much for you, letting loose at your friend's home was the best place you could, right?  

Thinking of the chances of who you could have slept with, you honestly wouldn't mind either if it was Wonwoo or Mingyu. Heck you even might have a huge ass crush on them. There's just something about them ever since you got grouped up one day in highschool for a project. You have even caught yourself daydreaming about being railed by either. Those deceiving soft, innocent eyes of Wonwoo. You bet he was those 'angels in the streets, devil in the sheets' kinda guy. It made your insides flip in the best way possible. Well for Mingyu… his charm was unmatchable by other guys. His flirtatious and confident character were a plus factor. You wouldn't mind if it was him either. The pair was undeniably hot till you wouldn't deny your grown feelings for them ever since the end of highschool when they presented you flowers and a handmade cd full of songs made by them for your birthday.

A click from the door pulled you from your deep thoughts. Speaking of the devil. Mingyu stood there, plate of scrambled eggs in hand, with no shirt and sweatpants that were clinging onto his hips for its dear life. Your eyes trailed down his body till his voice interrupted you. 

"Good morning." Mingyu says. Using his arm to gesture to the bed for you to sit back on. You hum in response, mentally cursing at your drunken mind for not thinking straight the previous night. The situation you got yourself into cannot get any more awkward. 'This ruined our friendship didn't it' you cry out to yourself in your head. You can't help but let a blush rise to your cheeks. Hiding your face, you adjust the loose navy blue shirt on you. Mingyu hands you the plate, watching you start to eat it and give a nod of approval to his cooking. He takes a seat next to you watching you finish the portion of food. 

You were about to be saddened by the fact you couldn't remember anything, but then it all came back to you.

"Taking my cock so well aren't you baby? So pretty under me." His sloppy thrusts bring you to your fourth release of the night. The tight grip he had on your hips made purple marks bloom on them. his grunts and your high pitched moans mixed together. his teeth were sunk into his bottom lip with his eyes tightly shut. the sounds of skin slapping and the smell of sex was evident. “m’ about to cum gyu.” “Alright, cum with me baby.” his thrusts got faster, as your back started to arch at the rush of pleasure. 

Well, shit.

“Hope you're okay with my choice of cooking. Just wanted you to not feel as awkward as you seem right now. You can be yourself, you know." Mingyu shrugs, his eyes fixated on the now empty plate in front of you. 

"What happened last night?" Mingyu's small attempt of comfort does not help and you ask the question that was eventually going to be surfaced. 

"Well, I'm not going to sugarcoat things and go straight to things." Mingyu's irises shift to lock with yours, his eyes seeming as unfazed as ever. "You went to my party yesterday, and you decided to be an idiot and take one too many drinks and decided to hook up with me. Not that I'm surprised about that last part." You break eye contact and groan as Mingyu's lips twitch upwards in amusement. 

What the hell did you get yourself into?

—

"I might have slept with Kim Mingyu, please don't kill me." you confess to the trio in front of you. booseoksoon. Seungkwan slams his hands on the table, catching the attention of others in the cafe.  "WHAT THE FUCK? WE LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR ONE NIGHT AND YOU DO THAT?" Soonyoung shoots him a glare to 'tone the fuck down' that seungkwan brushes off and Seokmin apologizes to the people who are giving questionable glances. You try to hide yourself further into your turtleneck. 

In an instant, Soonyoung puts the pieces together and slides up next to you and pulls the material hugging your neck and the purple marks are on full display for the three. Seokmin's mouth drops agape, Seungkwan slaps a hand to his head, really, really hard, and Soonyoung brings his head closer to your neck trying to examine it as if it was just makeup and all of this was a prank. 

"Girl, you're lucky that you lost your virginity to that hot shot Choi Seungcheol and it wasn't Kim fucking Mingyu." Seokmin shakes his head. His eyes are still wide, trying to recover from that bomb you just dropped on them. 

"I thought you said Mingyu was your 'childhood friend'? I know the guy is hot but really?" Seungkwan's voice is now small, almost in a whisper. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE NOT INTO MEN ANYMORE BECAUSE OF THE LACK OF DICK YOU WERE GETTING MAN." His usual personality came back. You instantly take both your hands and plaster them onto his mouth, muttering apologies to the irritated audience and once again, Seungkwan looked like he was crazy. 

"Hold your darn horses. Explain yourself before one of us marches to Mingyu's house and interrogates him for an answer," Soonyoung rubs his hands on his temples in distress. 

Sure you had a fair share of dick but the last time you ever had sex was like when you were 22? Like a whole two years ago. 

"Well, I'll keep it simple and…not so sweet but you get the idea." The three of them leaned closer to you, eyes filled with a mix of emotion. "Well, I just felt like downing a few drinks and in the morning I just woke up in his bed? What else do you even want me to say man." You sigh, head resting on your palm. 

"Do you regret it?" Seokmin asks, not even hiding an ounce of his curiosity. You look down on your lap and pick on the skin on your fingers as your mouth forms a thin line. They knew that the sex was good and you barely regret it. You couldn't hide the fact that Mingyu was hot. 

"Listen." Soonyoung breaks the silence. "I don't mind if you slept with one of the men you did not expect to, but I don't want you to be hurt. You better sort out where you stand, you better not come crying at one of our doorsteps on one of these days thinking that you were something. I bet all of us feel this way." 

"Yeah, I've known him since I was young so this should not be so bad." 

Soonyoung scoffs and continues. "Just sort your relationship out with him okay? Make sure it isn't awkward or anything. Men are fucking dense and make sure he doesn't think that you are his go-to fuck girl now." 

—

So you find yourself at his doorstep. Grimacing when you remember what happened the last time you went there. You ring the doorbell and hear a pair of feet shuffling behind the door.

What you didn't expect was Wonwoo opening the door instead of Mingyu. You take a step back and you feel the tips of your ears getting hot. 

Wonwoo's hand slowly slides off the handle of the door, "Hey y/n." the low hoarse voice you heard almost sent you to heaven. "Hello Wonwoo…" you find yourself trying not to stutter and hold that eye contact he is holding. Hoping that he did not know anything about the previous night's events, you go straight to the point. "Is Mingyu around by any chance? I have to talk to him about something." Wonwoo shakes his head, "He's out right now, do you wanna come in first? He may come back soon." You quietly accept the offer and enter their home. You see that his eyes follow your figure with your peripheral vision.

You follow him to his room as a usual routine, but you can't dismiss the quiet atmosphere. You did not know why you were feeling this way. Wonwoo was usually a guy with little words but now the fact that you sleep with Mingyu, you couldn't help but feel awkward. "You can get comfortable, let me just finish one more round of my game." You were honestly surprised at his carefree attitude. You sit yourself down on his bed, "Do you remember anything from last night?" You decide to ask. Wonwoo shook his head, "Not really, I was tipsy. Mingyu was busy banging somebody and I couldn't find you anywhere so I just went to bed." You relax at that statement, happy that he was clueless. 

You became comfortable in Wonwoo's presence quite quickly. He finished his game quickly like he said he would and closed his game launcher as soon as the 'victory' screen flashed on his monitor. He placed his glasses on his desk.

"So what do you wanna do now?" He turns around in his chair to face you. Just at that instant, Mingyu enters Wonwoo's room. His eyes widened by the slightest before returning to its usual state. You wave at him, in which he returns one.

"What brings you here?" Mingyu asks. Wonwoo interjects, "She wanted to talk to you about something, which she can ask you now since you are here. So what was it you wanted to ask, y/n?" You were surprised by his sudden straightforwardness. "I uhh just wanted to ask Mingyu if…He's free tonight to come over and just hang out! And since you're here too Wonwoo, wanna come over for a bit later?" You stuttered, only sounding convincing for the last few words. 

The pair in front of you questioned your invitation but went with it. "I'll be there." The taller one said. "I'll be slightly late but I'll definitely be there." Wonwoo gave a small smile. "Great! I'll see you guys then." You quickly take your leave, leaving the two in front of you speechless. "She came all the way here just for that?" Wonwoo snorts. "Weird…" Mingyu looks at the place where you previously sat.

— 

You were expecting Mingyu's arrival. It was currently slightly past 8pm. Bringing out a few bottles of soju, you heard the doorbell ring. 

You quickly pat down your outfit and open the door. Instead of seeing Mingyu, you saw Wonwoo. The wind got knocked out of your lungs after seeing him. Failing to calm yourself down, you hold the door open, letting him in. You fail to notice Wonwoo checking your outfit out while you were trying to neutralize your facial expression. He's in a white turtleneck with a pair of long black pants. To top it all off, he was using those goddamned black framed glasses. Fuck your horemones right now because gosh you really wanted to tear it off him. Your jaw slacked at the slightest and you got snapped out of your thoughts from Wonwoo clearing his throat. 

"O-Oh hey Wonwoo." you smile. "Hey Y/n. Mingyu was held up at home, he made a mess earlier when trying to cook and he's cleaning it up right now." Wonwoo sighs, letting his hand run through his hair. You laugh, standing aside to let him in. 

Wonwoo puts aside his things neatly as you take a seat in the living room. He joined you shortly as you opened a bottle of soju.

"What do you wanna do now?" You ask. "We could probably put on a movie or something." Wonwoo shrugs, taking down a shot of soju. "I have a better idea~"  You sing-song, getting up and gesturing for Wonwoo to follow you.

"Tadaaa" You show Wonwoo the small set-up in your backyard, a few chairs set out with a perfect view of a full moon and a few stars. Wonwoo takes a seat, "This is nice," he sighs. "Of course it would be,'' You wink,  placing down the bottles in your hands onto the table. You take your phone and put a jazz spotify playlist and leave it on shuffle. 

As per usual, you started a conversation. They usually revolved around shared memories from highschool. Some including Mingyu of course, you wonder if he forgot about the night together with Wonwoo. 

"Oh fuck don't remind me of that" You groan, "No way I would let you live this one down, it was hilarious how you asked Hong Jisoo for this favourite colour in 8th grade and the day after you came to school in braces with that exact colour. You were so obvious." Wonwoo was clutching his stomach, his cute laughter made you crack a smile and hide your face in your hands. 

"Oh don't get me started on how you liked that girl from our level and shouted 'Oh this shot is for you!' in the basketball finals right in front of our whole cohort and missed it," You tease, nudging his shoulder. Wonwoo playfully rolls his eyes. "Oh hush, Mingyu would never stop teasing me for that one." 

Your laughter slowly dies down as a familiar tune comes on. Your homecoming dance song. The exact song Wonwoo and you danced two years ago. You didn't have a date because you only had a crush on Mingyu and Wonwoo at the time. You remember it clearly. Watching Mingyu dancing with another girl made your jealousy kindle. But Wonwoo came in front of you, asking you if he could have the dance with you before gently grabbing your arm and you remember dancing with him for the rest of the night. 

Similarly, now he did the same. Standing up, he reaches up his hand. "May I have this dance?" You could simply not refuse, putting your hand in his right away with a blush creeping up your face. He pulls you to his chest onto the grass of your backyard, the small light of your backyard with the stars fit the mood perfectly. You and him swayed to the familiar tune of the song and before you could realise, raindrops started to fall from the sky. One turned into ten and there was a small downpour. But fuck it, since you were already having fun, what more if it were in the rain with Wonwoo? 

Hands still intertwined with his, you slow dance in the rain. Some turns and dips in between the song. You find the song coming to a slow stop, as your hands find a place around Wonwoo's neck. You find yourself in a more intimate position now. You look into his eyes, taking the chance to explore his face too. Wonwoo looks up, "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" You follow his gaze upwards to the bright moon, "Yeah, it really is." Wonwoo was glad you didn't know the meaning of the sentence he said, but maybe one day you would know the true intentions behind his words.

You both don't seem to mind the drenched outfits and how they were sticking to your body. Both of you slowly look back at each other and you see Wonwoo staring at your lips. You see Wonwoo hesitating, "Can I kiss you?" Wonwoo whispers, his head inching closer to yours slowly. You slowly nod your head, but you see his head stop inches before touching yours. Wonwoo takes a second before saying, "Fuck it." before pushing his lips onto yours. 

Your lips slowly move on his, savoring the taste of him. His intoxicating cologne drags you into a trance, you need more of him as he needs more of you. Wonwoo's arms slide around your waist as he leans down more into the kiss. Your taste was addicting and thankfully he was sober still. He knew for a fact you were sober too, he'll make sure you would have an unforgettable night either way. 

You slowly part from the kiss, grabbing Wonwoo's hand and pulling him into your house. You try and pull him in for another kiss before he cuts you off, "Not so fast sweetheart. You gotta dry off first, don't want you catching a cold." You laugh, "So thoughtful as usual." Wonwoo smiles, walking to your bathroom to grab a towel and he starts to dry your hair. You would never get sick of how any moment can turn wholesome with Wonwoo in an instant. 

Wonwoo finishes drying the both of you off. "Lead the way princess." You take hold of his hand again, dragging him into your room. Wonwoo takes a seat on your bed, pulling you into his lap in the process

"This okay Y/n? Just wanted to feel you for the whole night..fuck you looked so hot the second you opened the door." Wonwoo groans when you grab his arms, putting it on your waist. "Yes this is alright Wonwoo." You smiled, but you were exploding inside. Your heart was beating against your ribcage and you hoped he didn't notice how fast your heart was beating. 

He pulls you into another kiss. It was sweet at first, but Wonwoo starts to drag his tongue over your bottom lip then pushes his tongue into your mouth to explore it as soon as you grant him access. He takes your tongue into his mouth to slowly suck it. You moan at the sensation. Wonwoo pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You try to catch your breath as Wonwoo takes you into his arms, turning you around so he is caging you to the bed. 

Wonwoo proceeds to sit on your bed, pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo starts to press wet kisses from your neck, making sure to pay attention to your sweet spot and lightly sucking on it. You softly moan his name, your arms finding its place around his neck. Wonwoo's hands grab your hips, guiding them to sit on his erection. "See how turned on you make me feel? Been wanting this for ages," Wonwoo practically groans by your ear making your breathing start to uneven. The vibrations you felt from his chest went straight down to your core. 

Wonwoo's hands guide down to your shirt, resting there. "May I?" You give him a nod, encouraging him to continue. "Let me know when to stop alright? Tap me twice if you want to stop. Don't be afraid to be vocal either." Wonwoo gives a small smile before lifting your shirt over your head. "Always so pretty for me sweetheart," he looks at you in awe. Looking away, you feel his hand coming to your cheek and pushing it to meet his gaze. He takes the chance to peck your lips before continuing and unclipping your bra. Wonwoo does not waste any time in taking one breast and fondling it. He takes your lips onto his again, muffling your moans. 

When you have the chance to, you manage to choke out, "Please..Wonwoo.." He looks at you with a smirk, knowing how you were far in a bliss to talk properly. "Please what sweetheart? Use your words." You ball up you hands into fists, "Please just fuck me hard. I need you Wonwoo."

All Wonwoo did was let out a low chuckle. You did not know how to react. "Since you asked so nicely I could never say no to you. But I need a taste of you first." It's like a switch was flipped. Wonwoo's hands reached for your pants, taking them off as well as your underwear as if he was tearing it off you. "Be good for me and let your neighbor's know who's making you feel good hm?" You give a quick nod, eyes closing at the feeling of his hot breath fanning on your heat. 

Wonwoo wastes no time in diving into your bundle of nerves, licking and sucking as if it were his last meal. He manages to shove in two of his long slender digits too, it's scissoring motion making your thighs clench around his head. Wonwoo's tongue was quickly bringing you to your release and both of you knew it. But the sudden sound of your door opening made the two of you jump. 

"Oh what a pleasant surprise." Mingyu sauntered into the room, taking a good look at you sprawled out on your bed and Wonwoo's face covered in your juices. "Look who decided to join the party." Wonwoo licks his lips. The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you tried to comprehend that whatever was happening wasn't a dream. Mingyu confirms your thoughts by crashing his lips onto yours. It was an aggressive kiss, Mingyu's neediness was showing through it.

Mingyu abruptly pulls back and that sudden action makes you chase his lips. Mingyu laughs, "Such a needy baby aren't you? That makes the two of us." Mingyu chuckled, "Has Wonwoo been treating you well?" You watch how Wonwoo rolls his eyes and he goes back to focusing on getting you to your release. Mingyu gets the hint and starts to mark you up. You knew you would be littered in their marks. Of course you would, Wonwoo and Mingyu would have to mark what's theirs. The feeling of both their mouths on your body made your back arch off the bed as your hands reached to grab Wonwoo's hair and Mingyu's hand.  And so your release came crashing right after Wonwoo's fingers started to rub your heat and Mingyu started to suck on one of your breasts. 

Your mind was in a haze, mumbling a mix of their names and how good they made you feel. "Oh my god Gyu, you gotta taste her." Wonwoo pants, hands taking the remnants of your release off his face and putting his fingers at Mingyu's mouth which he clearly accepted. Mingyu moans around Wonwoo's fingers, making your core start to get wet once again. 

Mingyu caresses your naked waist, "You're doing so well for us baby," Wonwoo stands up, dusting his knees. "Can you still take us? Unless our slut is already fucked out from a single release?" On a normal day you would shoot back a snarky remark but you knew if you did that right now, you would be put in place. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea but for now you would keep that idea for another time. You manage to give a small nod to the duo. They quickly undress fully, your eyes admiring their bodies. You take both hands to feel their figures. They both crack a smile, Wonwoo's face trying to turn away to hide his blush as Mingyu's hand reaches to caress your cheek. 

It was always that in moments like these you found comfort in the two. You then take Mingyu's cock into your mouth as Wonwoo wastes no time in pushing himself into your walls. The three of you moan in unison. Your warm mouth and the swirling of your tongue drove Mingyu crazy and how your tight walls clenched around Wonwoo made him close his eyes tight. Your hands helplessly try to grab the bed sheets but with the pleasure that is running through you, nothing worked. 

Wonwoo and Mingyu start to thrust into you in sync. The erratic moans you had sent Mingyu into heaven. It felt perfect. "Taking our cocks so well darling," Mingyu grits. "Making us feel so good sweetheart. You like that? You like Mingyu and I filling your holes and using you like a whore don't you." Wonwoo starts to thrust into you with a rougher pace the second his hands slide onto your waist gripping it hard so he can feel you skin to skin. 

You can feel that their releases were approaching and your second one for the night as well. You focus on running your tongue under Mingyu's cock and sucking it the way he reacted to it the best. As for Wonwoo, you tried to stabilize yourself but nothing was working. Your eyes roll back and it feels as if your body was falling into an abyss. 

Wonwoo takes your legs and hooks them over his shoulders, "Mingyu and I've been thinking about this for the longest time. Wanted to fuck you well so you know who you belonged to. Mmm want you to be ours right Gyu?" Mingyu takes a second to control his breathing, "That's right baby. Want it so bad." The words that got  uttered out of their mouths encouraged you to work harder to get them to their releases. Mingyu could not take it anymore. The combination of how you moan then hollow your cheeks right after made him shoot his seed into your mouth. You make sure he sees you waste nothing when swallowing everything you could.

Wonwoo starts to be slightly more vocal indicating that his release was approaching too. "You drive me so crazy." Wonwoo takes your hands and interlaces them with his. "Wonwoo. Oh my god Wonwoo." You repeat his name on and on, gripping his hands tight. Both of you were sent off the edge, Wonwoo spilling his load right into your abused hole. 

Just like that, Wonwoo is soft again as you lay side by side coming down from your high. Mingyu had already walked off to get a towel to wipe you off. "Are you feeling alright?" Wonwoo asks, one of his hands never leaving yours."Yeah I feel great Wonwoo, thank you." You smile at him, feeling all bubbly in your stomach again. 

"What Mingyu and I said just now, we meant it. Maybe you could give one of us a chance? Ever since you turned up to our house when both of us were ill and not minding the fact that you may fall sick too made us realize our honest feelings for you." You look at Wonwoo, you thought all they said was all the 'In the moment' type of things that you were gaslighting yourself into not believing it. 

"How…" You mutter out. "Well you have Mingyu, never having the balls to come to face his feelings and like for example, dancing with other girls during prom. Or you have me, being well aware of how you make me feel and coming to face them. Like how I danced with you at prom well knowing that it may be the last time I would." 

"I would love to have something like that, with the two of you. Been dreaming of it for a few years." Wonwoo seems shocked at what you said. At that time, Mingyu walks into the room. "Repeat that for us." Wonwoo orders. "Yeah, I would love to figure out something between the three of us if that's possible." You glance between the two, noticing how Mingyu's eyes widen. "We would love that." Wonwoo utters, looking at Mingyu in disbelief. Mingyu snaps out of his daze, "Now let's get you cleaned up shall we?" 

That night you found yourself in between your two lovers, still trying to come to believe what happened in the span of a few hours. But how you woke up, legs tangled with them and getting showered with kisses, hugs and a great breakfast made you not regret a single thing. 

"Maybe you could do what you've been wanting to do with us these couple of years you've been waiting for." Mingyu winks as Wonwoo gives you a knowing smirk oh you were so ready for what was to come. 

an: after changing the plot like 4-5 times i might just wanna stick to writing hcs and reactions TT do lmk if i should continue w this !

reblogs and likes are appreciated, thank you :)

[calico-cheriies]

Hideaway |Soshiro Hoshina x Reader Fanfic|

{Chapter Five}

{Masterlist}

{Hideaway Masterlist}

♥︎Taglist: @swivi

Warnings: slight suggestive material

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The upcoming days definitely made you paranoid, well how could you not be? You had gotten threatened when you were coming back from seeing Hoshina. You knew Hoshina must've thrown himself into his work because you hadn't seen him for a few days- well you two had a small conversation during the cafeteria but it was quickly interrupted by the fellow female officer, whom you've quickly come to learn that her name is Hayami.

Sure- she wasn't unfortunate looking; she was built and had that dominant personality that raptured all the other's officers attention. But ever since that awkward elevator ride you had been thinking about her words more and more, and it lit something up in you. You weren't going to back down-

Whatever was going on between you and Hoshina, you were going to figure it out. You had never felt so determined to push yourself out of your office, who knows what made you feel so competitive but that didn't matter now. You were slowly escalating up in the elevator, your hands were balled up into fists the more you thought about it. Everyone here was an adult, and you certainly weren't going to back down because Hayami was some officer. No- you also contributed and Hoshina could choose anyone he wanted. It's not like she could actually hurt you anyway, there was surveillance everywhere and people were always around. How could you be scared?

You were hyping yourself up, you could also learn to express yourself more and it seemed that Hoshina had a liking towards you. Yeah, maybe you had a chance- wait what? Chance for what?

"Ugh, I'm so dumb," you softly whined to yourself, how could something like this even cross your mind? You two weren't even dating and you had known each other for a few weeks. Though you were brought back to reality once the elevator dinged and it opened, greeting you with the sight of some people shuffling around. You blinked before stepping out and shoving your hands into the pockets of your coat, what were you going to do again?

Your pace was slow, no one turned to look at you since they were busy doing their own thing. To be fair- everyone was always on edge in case of an attack, yet here you were looking for a certain man. You muttered out an apology as you felt your shoulder bump into someone. You turned your head, your confidence slipping as you muttered out an apology.

"Hey! You're the... uh..." you heard the familiar voice of that one old man from the hospital wing. You glanced up and you wanted to burst out laughing from his strained expression. "Forensic pathologist," you finished for him, finally turning your whole body to look at him. He seemed to be around Captain Ashiro's age, how ironic.

"Yeah! That," he laughed out nervously, it seemed more out of embarrassment. "I guess that's what they call it, I'm Kafka Hibino," he introduced himself, and you offered a small smile. "Yeah I remember, the vice captain sure seems fond of you," you admitted, but you would understand why. He seemed like no threat at all, in fact, he didn't seem to carry a threatening or bold attitude.

"He does? What a relief," he seemed to stand up taller, his shoulders relaxing a bit at your words. "Are you looking for him right now? I think he was still bathing or something," he seemed to point behind him, "I can lead you to him-" he was starting to offer until you cut him off. "No! It's okay... I'll wait," your voice cracked at first, embarrassment flooding your senses. "Let's just talk... I guess it's a way to pass the time while I wait," you shifted in your spot, might as well get to know him while you're at it.

Plus it was better because you saw Hayami walking out with some other girls, and thankfully Kafka's larger frame seemed to cover you enough as they passed. What a relief...

Kafka didn't seem to mind, in fact, you found out he was only a little older than you. While you both took a seat, it was kind of awkward at first because you had no idea what he was like, but all that soon went out the window when he started to talk about his personal with his life before joining the third division. This friendship blossomed between the two of you.

He told you about his prior job which was cleaning up the aftermath of kaiju's attacks and disposing of them. You both bonded over some similar instances you both had, and yet there was a silent respect for each other. He also told

You of his goals- the way he wanted to fight beside Captain Ashiro's side because of a childhood promise.

It almost wanted to bring you to tears.

You shared some things as well, the way you fought through college and med school to be here. You told him about your struggles to put yourself out there- and the dreams you wanted so badly, to settle down.

You were about to speak on the topic of Hoshina, until you felt hands cover your eyes. Your figure flinching and your hands flying up to feel the hands that covered your eyes. "Did I keep ya waitin' long?" The familiar accent flooded your ears.

"Hoshina..." you shakily breathed out, your fingers gently prying his hands off and you tilted your head up to see those beautiful purple irises. "No, not too long. Kafka here kept me company," you were definitely going to drop into a puddle at the way his eyes gazed into yours.

It seemed like Kafka quickly got the hint that the two of you would probably appreciate some privacy. "Ah- uh, I can hear Someone calling for me!" He almost robotically moved up and walked off, the usual strained look on his face. That moment made you snort, but to Hoshina, it was lovely.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything," you stood up from the little chair you were sitting in. You were slightly relieved to see the little area was clearing out, "Nah, plus I'm glad ya found me first. I was about to go to yer office," he did seem happier that you were slowly taking steps to come see him. "Oh! Well..." you glanced to the side for a moment, the little tingling feeling that flooded your chest made it unbearable.

"... I'm glad I came then, I'm always willing to do something for you," you truthfully answered. The corners of his mouth twitched, almost like as if he was wanting to smirk but he stopped himself.

Hoshina couldn't stop admiring you, it felt like every interaction with you was testing his patience. But this time he couldn't- as much as he tried to stop himself from taking things to far, he feared this would be the time he would break that barrier.

"Let's take this somewhere else," his hand slowly slid up to your back. His push was gentle yet urgent, you stumbled a bit forward but soon got used to the quick pace in which he pushed you in. The more you walked, the more the halls seemed to get empty. It was silent between the two of you, you swear you could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you stopped in front of a room- most likely his office.

No words were exchanged up until this point, you almost went to turn the knob on the door until you felt his chest pressing up against your back, his arm reaching outside you to open it for you. "There ya go," his voice seemed to have gotten lower- raspier even. The tension was driving you insane as you simply nodded and pushed through the door.

Maybe... maybe this would be as wholesome as the other times. You forgot entirely about the incident that was giving you anxiety and instead watched as Hoshina closed the door behind him. The both of you staring at each other, it was almost giving you this adrenaline rush at the way his eyes slightly opened up, his irises almost glaring into you like some predator watching its prey.

It was exciting.

"It's a nice office you have here," you swallowed away the lump that was lodged into your throat, your back turning to him as your fingers slid over the wooden desk. You heard his footsteps getting closer to you, his presence almost suffocating. "Eh, it's not as nice as having ya here," what a way to be bold, but Hoshina was not the kind of guy to tip toe around what he wants.

You stifled a small laugh, but it was mostly out of nervousness. "Hm? But you don't know that for sure," you fluttered your eyes for a moment, drinking in the image of how close he was to you.

There were no words to describe how the two of you could have gotten this close. Was it due to the fact that the two of you were lonely when it came to things like this? Maybe it was the way you two could feel how the other craved for such attention?

It didn't matter.

At least, it didn't matter in the moment, it certainly didn't matter when his hands so gingerly cupped your face to pull you in close. His lips barely grazing yours which in return earned a soft shudder from you. His eyes were open now, your hands gripping onto the sleeve of his jacket.

"Well?" You murmured, almost leaning in yourself to just get his lips on yours, "Go ahead, vice captain," you purred out the last few words to spur him on. That certainly had an effect on him because you found yourself being tugged into his chest, his lips on yours. You closed your eyes as tightly as you could, his hands letting go of your face and instead holding onto your hips.

It was pure bliss.

Your hands slowly traveling up his arms, your nails finally digging into your shoulder which prompted him to pull back for a moment. Your eyes snapped open, your mouth hanging open in shock, "Oh-" you almost took you hands off his shoulders but he immediately brought his own up to keep them planted. "It's okay, pretty girl," he let out a soft laugh, his forehead leaning into yours. "I just thought...I scared ya," he admitted, but you shook your head.

"No... I... I really liked it," you stammered out, there were so many thoughts running through your head and you leaned back, the desk supporting you. His hands caged you into the desk, but he stared down at you with such a gentle gaze that all the anxiety you felt disappeared. "Um..." silence fell over the two of you, but he started to lean down towards you again. "Is this okay?" His breath tickled your neck, a small squirm coming from you but you still nodded your head. "Mhm,"

With your confirmation, he pressed his lips down your neck. His kisses were slow and cautious at first, but when that little whine came out from your lips, he groaned and just bit down with his teeth. You could feel just how pointy that little fang of his was, it made your eyes roll back for a moment. If he was making you fall apart this fast, who knows how you would do when it came to actual intimacy.

You were thinking too far ahead, right now, it was just you two submitting to each other's longing. But you wanted more, your back arching slightly to just sink into his embrace. "Hoshina..." his name kept slipping out of your mouth, your eyes begging to close so you could just lose yourself in the bliss that Hoshina was granting you.

"Vice Captain?"

The both of you stopped, your eyes staring at the door wide. You could see a silhouette on the other side of the door, and of course that stupid voice sounded familiar.

Hayami.

"Vice Captain?" She repeated, knocking on the door. Thank goodness- she sounded oblivious to what was going on inside. You immediately let go of Hoshina and you shoved yourself to the side. Hoshina's eyes were also wide, but not out of fear but rather surprise. He cleared his throat and he turned to you, "It's okay, pretty girl," his voice was low, but reassuring to you.

You slowly nodded and you moved your hair to cover your neck. Hoshina turned to face the door, "Come in," his voice was loud and rather assertive. The door opened to reveal Hayami, she seemed to had freshen up since the last time you saw her with Kafka. You glanced down at the clock on the desk to see the time. It was getting a little late, so why was she here?

Though she must've been thinking the same thing since her eyes stayed glued to you. "Aoyama, what brings ya here so late?" He questioned immediately, his lips were in a rather straight line than its usual playful one. Hayami seemed to straighten up at the mention of her last name, and you just stood there, wishing that you could just hide or something.

"I'm sorry for any interruptions," she started off, there was a slight twitch under her eye as she glanced over at you for a moment before looking back at her superior. "I just... thought that I would stop by for that training lesson we talked about," her voice got a little softer, almost like as if she was feigning some embarrassment. That obviously set something in you off, was there something also going on between her and Hoshina?

You hoped not- that would drive you insane. But there was something that seemed to change in Hoshina's expression, almost like as if he was confused. "Well..." he crossed his arms as his eyes closed again. It was quiet for a moment before he shook his head, "It's late, ya ain't supposed to be out and about at these hours. We'll resume that trainin' session tomorrow with the other officers. Goodnight Aoyama," he bowed his head down for a moment, signaling for her to leave.

Hayami blinked, she seemed to stay still in the same spot until she composed herself and she saluted him. "Goodnight, Vice Captain," though her tone was rather cold as she turned to leave. Her hand slowly closing the door, and immediately you sighed out in relief before running your hands through your hair to relieve some stress that you built up in that small amount of time.

"Ya okay?" Hoshina turned to you now, "Don't worry about her, she's new to everything," he misunderstood your worries for something else, but that was okay for now. "It's okay, I should probably head down now," you looked down, you wanted to address what just happened but it was getting late and he probably needed his sleep.

"(Y/n),"

You looked up, his head tilted at you with that gentle smile.

"How many times do I have to tell ya to stay?"

Now here you were, in Hoshina's room.

{Chapter Six}

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[lizzyk137]

A Night of Brownies and Wine- Agent Gibbs Fanfic (Gibbs X Reader)

Summary: When your brain overthinks, Gibbs tells you his feelings. Warnings: Angst, fluff, really light mention of sexual activity, overthinking

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby screamed out as she hurriedly made her way towards his desk.

"What, Abs?" He looked up over his glasses that was perched on his nose.

Her chunky heeled shoes came to a halt by his desk. "Have you seen Y/N?"

He took off his glasses. "No, why?"

"She was supposed to meet me and McGee tonight for our weekly gaming night, but she never showed up and we can't trace her phone so I thought I'd find you because you might know where she was." Abby said all in one breath.

"I haven't seen her all day. I'll let you know if I find her." He gave a small smile to Abby as he collected his items, giving her a small kiss on the cheek and headed towards the elevators.

He made his way to his truck and headed home. He knew where you were, he could easily read you and could always find your location depending on your mood. And today he knew exactly where he could find you.

He opened the front door and headed for the kitchen; a chocolate mess was the only thing that was left to show you were there. He headed for the basement door, where the quiet sound of pop music made its way to his ears.

Heading down the steps he found you in one of his oversized NCIS shirts, no pants wearing your fluffy slippers as you swayed to a K-pop ballad, a brownie in one hand and a bottle of rose in the other. Gibbs leaned against the railing as he watched you, a smirk spreading across his lips while he watched your hips sway back and forth.

"You know you have your own place to do this in." He called out, watching you jump slightly before turning around to face him.

"Yeah, but my house doesn't have a boat in it. Plus, I know you love my brownies amongst other things." You winked as Gibbs walked over to you, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs took off his long coat and draped it over your shoulders, his warmth enveloping you.

You shook your head, setting down your brownie and bottle of wine on a random small table around Gibbs' boat. "Nothing is wrong. It's just my brain being silly."

Gibbs' hands grabbed your hips and backed you up, your butt lightly bumping into the boat behind you. One hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers tangling into your hair, the other hand still on your hip. "Y/N, your brain is not silly. Tell me."

You looked away and blew out a breath. "Just this undercover op has my brain overthinking."

"About what?"

"About us!" You could feel the tears prickling your eyes, threatening to overflow, but you wouldn't let them.

"What about us?"

"That all we are is just work." Your voice was barely a whisper, because you didn't have the heart to admit what you had with Gibbs louder.

You knew work was always going to be the number one priority for him, the constant in his life. You were just something new that was stumbled upon, not something to be around long term. The whole agency knew you two were an item, so any undercover ops or improv on the job always had you two as a couple, but those moments were sweeter, and more love filled than the times you were alone together. It felt like all you were ever going to be was simply just a cover, no matter how hard you tried not to admit it. You knew the truth.

Gibbs didn't love you. Not like you loved him. He may love you in the same way he loved Abby or Ziva except with extra perks, but that was it. He never asked to see you, never asked you out on dates, never had been over to your place, drove in your car, asked about your family, hell, he never even asked about you. And you finally admitted it to yourself.

So, you decided to drown your sorrows in many bottles of wine and brownies.

And there he was, Gibbs, this amazing man who never really talked but always seemed to know what to do, and he was standing in front of you with his hands gently cradling your body, his eyes fill with confusion and worry as he looked at you.

Gibbs opened his mouth then closed it and thought for a second before asking, "What does right now count as?"

"I don't mean right now," you sighed the continued, "I mean the rest of the time. It's always work, never just us."

"I-I don't know what to say." Gibbs stuttered as he watched the woman he loves start to crumble in front of him. Her eyes were watery, but she wasn't letting the tears fall down, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see her cry. He'd never seen her cry in all the years he's known her. Not when she broke any of her bones, not when she was slammed into a concrete wall and hit her head, not when she lost her grandma. She had held herself together, at least in front of him.

"You never say anything!" Your voice raised, and you turned your back on him, tears slowly rolling down your face.

Gibbs hands slid back down when she turned away from him. What could he do? She was upset and he understood why. He didn't do enough. Wasn't what she needed.

He had always been about work since Kelly and Shannon passed away and nothing had changed over the years with his ex-wives or his past relationships. He didn't think anything of it. Nothing he did was any different than what he has done and now that she said something out loud, he realized that all those past relationships had never worked out because of what he was doing. He was doing absolutely nothing.

His thoughts were interrupted when a sob escaped from the woman in front of him.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked; he couldn't help feeling his heart shatter when that sob reached his ears. He brought his body closer to yours, his arms circling your body. "I- I know I'm not good enough for you. I don't put much effort into anything but work, but I do love you. I'm not good with words." He stopped for a second and rested his forehead against the back of your head. "I don't want to see you cry. I understand if you don't stay but I don't want to lose you."

The pain in his voice was front and center and you couldn't hear anything else but that. You turned around in his arms and sighed before nuzzling your head into his chest.

"Words aren't enough, Jethro."

"I know. I can't promise I'll be a changed man right off, but I'll try my hardest to be better."

"All I ask for is to be more present in this relationship. To have it not be all about work." Your voice muffled as you spoke into his chest.

"Well, we both have tomorrow night off. Why don't we go to that little Italian place that you were telling Tony about?"

"How did you know that?"

"I may not say much but I listen, especially when it comes to you."

You giggled; face still pressed into his chest. "Really?"

"Really." He kissed the top of your head and squished you tighter to him. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too." You looked up at him with a smile. "So, I made some brownies, do you want some?"

"You sure as hell know I want some." He smirked before picking you up, a giggling scream coming out of your throat, as he headed up stairs to the bedroom.

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Can you do one for Anthony x Male reader where reader is an open minded writer with more…… scandalous erotic melancholia and decides to show Anthony he can please him better than any woman.

Be Wherever You Are (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Author's note: Hiya, it's been awhile and I know this came out late as well as the Benedict fanfic as well but I am working on finishing the series I have out for the mothers of the Ton. Please if this wasn't to your liking request another one or point out some tips for future requests. Thank you so much for requesting!

Summary: As days passed on with your writing you couldn't help but notice that some of the men in your story had basically described the man you were starting to grow close with. Being the bold person you are you couldn't help but make your move

Warning(s): NSFW, 18+, bold! reader, sexual tension, describing muscular bodies, Anthony gets a little jealous, scandalous yearnings, oral sex, Anthony! recieving, Reader! giving, more to be added.

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the dimly lit study, casting flickering shadows across the grand room. Anthony Bridgerton sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed as he poured over a stack of papers-estate matters, no doubt, the weight of responsibility ever-present on his shoulders. The world outside these walls saw him as nothing but the proper Viscount, the head of the Bridgerton family, always in control, always composed.

But you had come to know him differently.

Leaning against the door frame, you observed him quietly, the air between you thick with something unspoken. It had been weeks since you'd grown closer, you conversations no longer confined to polite society. In your stories, in the stolen glances, in the unguarded moments, you'd both begun to unravel before each other.

The flames in the hearth case a golden hue on Anthony's sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw as he worked tirelessly, ever the perfectionist. Yet, you could see it-the weariness in his eyes, the subtle sag of his shoulders. He was a man in need of something more than duty and tradition.

And tonight, you were bold enough to give it to him.

Stepping into the room, your presence commanded his attention instantly. He didn't look up right away, but you could sense the way his body tensed, the way his feathered pen faltered ever so slightly. Without a word, you moved closer, your footsteps soft against the Persian rug, until you were standing across from him, just a breath away.

"You always surround yourself with work," you said, voice low, carrying the weight of the moment. "Don't you tire of it?"

Anthony finally glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto yours, the flicker of something dangerous lurking in them. He didn't answer right away, his gaze trailing over your form with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"What I tire of is being questioned about matters that don't concern you," he replied, his voice measured but with an edge that betrayed his frustration.

You smirked, undeterred by his attempt at resistance. "Is that so? And here I thought you might enjoy the company of someone who sees more of you than just the Viscount."

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening-but you knew better. Beneath his facade, you had already seen glimpses of the man behind the title. And tonight, you would see even more.

You took another step closer, leaning over the desk just enough for the firelight to catch your face, your eyes meeting his with unmistakable intent.

"I see you, Anthony Bridgerton," you whispered, "and I think it's time you let someone else take control, if only for a little while."

Anthony's eyes narrowed, but not with anger-there was something else there. A flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even desire, the kind he was used to suppressing. The air between you was electric, charged with the weight of things left unsaid.

"Take control?" he repeated, his voice tight, almost mocking, but you could hear the strain behind it. "You overestimate your influence."

You smiled, the kind of smile that made your intentions clear without a single word needing to be said. Slowly, you moved around the desk, not breaking eye contact with him for even a moment. You could see the tension in the his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the armrests of the chair just a little too hard. He was trying to maintain his composure, to keep his distance, but the fire in his eyes betrayed him.

"Oh, Anthony," you said softly, standing beside him now. You let your hand rest lightly on his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath his jacket. "I think you've been in control long enough."

His breath hitched, just for a moment, before he converted it up with a scoff. "This isn't a game."

"No," you agreed, leaning down to whisper in his ear, your lip just barely brushing the edge of his skin. "But you and I both know you're tired of pretending."

You could feel the way his body stiffened beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away. His hands remained on the armrests, knuckles white, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths as if he was trying to will himself back into the Viscount's rigid armor.

"I am not pretending," he finally said, though his voice lacked it usual conviction.

You straightened up, your fingers trailing lightly from his shoulder down the length of his arm before you leaned against the desk in front of him. The firelight danced in your eyes as you watched him, letting the silence stretch between you.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you stopped me?"

Anthony's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, his gaze settling on the fire burning low in the hearth. He was fighting it-fighting you-but you knew you had already won. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to you, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"This is highly inappropriate," he said, though the words came out softer than they should have.

You leaned in, your face inches from his, daring him to push you away.

"Is it?" you whispered, your breath mingling with his. "Or is this exactly what you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might argue, might stand up and walk out, but then his hand twitched on the armrests, his fingers finally relaxing. His breath was shallow now, and when his eyes locked onto yours again, all traces of resistance were gone.

"Show me," he said, voice barely more than a whisper. "Show me that you can give me what no other woman can."

Your smiled widened, knowing that this was the moment everything changed. You stepped closer, your hands brushing over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his waistcoat.

"As you wish, Anthony," you whispered, your lips hovering just above his. "But remember.... you're the one who asked."

With that, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, a collision of control and surrender. Anthony tensed at first, as though this was something he wasn't used to-being on the receiving end-but then, slowly, you felt him relax under your touch, his hands finally reaching up to grip your waist.

The kiss deepened, and for the first time, you could feel him let go. The walls he had built around himself, the armor of his title, the expectations-it all began to crumble as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to feel something more than duty.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. His eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"This is only the beginning, Anthony," you whispered, your voice low and full of promise. "I'll show you want it feels like to be truly wanted...and to let go."

As you hovered close to him, your hands still resting on his chest, you could feel Anthony's breath starting to steady, but there was something else-something weighing on his mind. His eyes flickered with a sudden sharpness, as though he had remembered something important.

"I saw it," Anthony said, his voice low, almost husky, but laced with something more-a challenge, perhaps. "The draft on your latest story. You left it open on the desk last time you visited."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, though you didn't pull away. "Did you now?"

His lips curled into a faint, almost teasing smile, but his eyes were serious. "It's funny how your protagonist...how he reminded me of someone."

You let your hands drift lower, fingers tracing over the fabric of his waistcoat, but you didn't break eye contact. "Is that so? And who might that be?"

Anthony's breath hitched as your hands slid down to his belt, your fingers working the buckle with practiced ease. You could feel the tension in his body heighten, but he remained still, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Someone who spends his days pretending he doesn't want things he shouldn't," Anthony murmured, his voice rough as you undid the belt, the soft clink of metal filling the room. "Someone who think duty can replace desire."

You chuckled softly, your fingers now teasing at the buttons of his trousers, working them loose with slow, deliberate movements. "I suppose you could say that the protagonist is inspired by someone," you whispered, your voice full of wicked amusement.

Anthony's breath grew shallower, his chest rising and falling as his trousers loosened beneath your hands, the fabric slipping from your fingers, revealing more of him. "And what is it that he wants?" Anthony asked, his voice barely more than a whisper now, but the question was heavy, loaded with meaning.

Your hands paused, fingers lightly brushing against the bare skin of his hips as you leaned in closer, your lips grazing the side of his neck. His pulse raced beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his anticipation hanging in the air.

"He wants," you murmured, letting the word linger in the space between you, "to be freed from the chains he's put on himself...to be claimed, to be wanted, in ways no one else dares to want him."

Anthony swallowed hard, his body trembling ever so slightly beneath your touch. You could feel his control slipping away, his composure cracking as your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the heat of his skin.

"And who is it that claims him in the story?" Anthony asked, though his voice was strained now, almost as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from your lips.

You leaned in, your mouth hovering just over his, your breath hot against his skin. "Someone bold enough to see him for who he truly is...and who isn't afraid to take what they want."

With one swift motion, you undid the last of his trousers, letting them fall to the floor, freeing him completely, your hands grazing along the edge of his bare hips. Anthony gasped, his control faltering completely as his hands gripped the arms of the chair, his head falling back slightly as he surrendered to the moment.

You stood there for a moment, admiring the sight of him-the usually unshakable Viscount, vulnerable, exposed, and at your mercy. The firelight flickered across his bare skin, casting shadows that dances with the unspoken tension between you.

"Now tell me, Anthony," you whispered, your voice low and commanding. "Is this where your story ends, or is it just the beginning?"

The weight of the moment hung in the air, heavy and electric, as you glanced up at him, meeting his gaze with a look that spoke volumes. He was waiting, teetering on the edge of control, the authority he wielded in every other aspect of his life slipping further with each passing second.

Without a word, you got onto your knees in front of him and leaned forward, your lips brushing against his length, teasing him, barely touching at first. Anthony's entire body tensed, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair, his breath catching in his throat.

You smirked, pleased by his reaction. You had him exactly where you wanted him-no more pretense. Slowly, you parted your lips, your mouth enveloping the tip of him with gently pressure. The heat of him the taste, filled your senses as you moved, taking him in inch by inch, your tongue swirling against his sensitive skin.

Anthony's head fell back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut as a low, guttural moan escaped him. His hand moved as though to stop you-his last attempt at control-but it faltered, fingers curling into the armrest instead his resolve crumbling.

You moved with purpose now, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm, your lips and tongue working together to bring him pleasure. Each time you pulled back, you teased him with just the tip of your tongue, before sinking down again, deeper this time, letting him feel the full warmth of your mouth. His hips shifted involuntarily, his body reacting to the sensations, even as he tried to keep himself still, tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

But it was no use. Anthony's breaths came out in ragged bursts, his body trembling as you continued to work him over, the wet sounds of your mouth filling the room, mingling with the crackling of the fire. You could feel the tension in him building, the way his though tightened beneath your hands, the way his muscles quivered under your touch. He was losing himself in this moment, and you loved it-loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and at your mercy.

You paused for a brief second, just long enough for Anthony to groan in protest, his eyes snapping open, dark with need. "Don't...stop," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his control slipping with each word.

You smiled, your hands lightly stroking him as you spoke. "Who's in control now, Viscount?"

Anthony didn't answer. He couldn't His mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a low, needy moan as you took him into your mouth once more, your hand working in tandem with your lips, faster now, pushing him closer to the edge.

His breathing was erratic, his body moving with you now, no longer able to hold back. You could feel him getting closer, the way his muscles tightened, the way his moans became more desperate, more raw. You pushed him further, sucking harder, faster, your tongue flicking against the most sensitive part of him, until-

"God-" Anthony's voice broke as his body tensed, every muscle tightening as he reached the peak of pleasure. His hips jerked involuntarily, his hand gripping the chair so hard his knuckles went white as he came, his release filling your mouth in hot, pulsing waves.

You didn't stop until he had given you everything, your mouth and hand working together to milk every last bit of pleasure from him. Only then did you pull back, swallowing and licking your lips as you looked up at him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

Anthony sat there, breathless, his head still tilted back, chest heaving, his eyes closed as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the sound of his labored breathing.

You stood slowly, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I told you....no one could please you like this."

Anthony's eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. For the first time, he looked at you not as the Viscount, not as the man always in control, but ask someone who had been utterly, completely undone.

And he liked it.

Anthony's chest still rose and fell with the remnants of his release, but as the silence settled over the room, something new flickered in his eyes- something darker. He watched you, his gaze sharp and intense, but not with the softness of vulnerability that had been there moments ago. Instead, a shadow of jealousy clouded his expression.

You hadn't even had time to fully stand before Anthony's hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength, pulling you back down toward him. His gaze bore into yours, his voice low, edged with suspicion.

"Tell me," he murmured, his tone filled quiet intensity. "Do all the men in your stories end like this? Growing 'close' with you like this?"

The question hung in the air, thick with jealousy, his fingers tightening around your wrist as though he were afraid you might slip away, just like the words he was too proud to say aloud. You could hear the accusation in his voice, see it in his eyes-the doubt, the possessiveness. Anthony Bridgerton, the man who had always been in control, was now desperate to know if he was special...or just another conquest.

A slow smile spread across your lips, and you couldn't help but tease him. "Of course they do," you replied, your voice light, dripping with playful mischief. "Bold men who know what they want always find their way into my stories-and into my life."

You felt the shift immediately. Anthony's expression hardened, his grip on you tightening further. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as the weight of your words sank in. For a moment, you wondered if you had pushed too far, but then something changed in him- a flash of determination, of possessive need that eclipsed his earlier vulnerability.

Without warning, he stood, towering over you with newfound intensity. He was no longer the man caught off guard by his desires. He was the Viscount again-dominant, commanding. In one swift movement, he cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you back down to your knees.

"If that's how it is," he growled, his voice rough with jealousy, "then you can show me how much better I am than any of them."

Before you could respond, Anthony's hips pressed forward, guiding himself toward your mouth. His movements were deliberate, demanding, as if he wanted to erase any lingering thought you might have of anyone else. There was no hesitation now as he thrust himself between your lips, his hands still gripping your hair tightly, setting the pace.

You moaned around him, the sudden shift in power igniting something deep inside you. You liked this- liked the way Anthony took control, the way he used your mouth for his own pleasure, his jealousy fueling the intensity of the moment. Every sound you made only seemed to spur him on, his hips moving with more urgency, more need.

"That's it," Anthony muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, dark with lust. "You like this, don't you? You like being used."

You didn't answer with words-you couldn't. But the way you moaned, the way your hands gripped his thighs as you eagerly took more of him into your mouth, told him everything he needed to know. You tongue swirled around him, your lips tight as you sucked harder, wanting to please him as much as he wanted to claim you.

Anthony's breathing grew heavier, his head falling back slightly as his hips rocked against your face, the muscles in his body tensed with the building pleasure. He groaned deeply, his hand tightening in your hair, his voice husky and filled with unrestrained desire.

"Better than any woman," he rasped, his words punctuated by a sharp thrust of his hips. "None of them could ever do this...none of them could ever make me feel like this."

The praise sent a surge of heat through you, and you responded by taking him deeper, your mouth working faster, more eagerly. Anthony's moans grew loader, more desperate, and you could feel him edging closer and closer to release. His grip on you was almost bruising now, but you didn't mind-you reveled in the way he lost himself in you, the way he surrendered to the pleasure you gave him.

"Look at you," Anthony muttered, his voice thick with lust. "My perfect thing. You'll never leave me wanting for anyone else."

You moaned in response, the vibration of your voice making Anthony curse under his breath, his bucking wildly as he reached the peak of his pleasure. His fingers gripped your hair tighter, his whole body tensing as he came, his release hot and heavy in your mouth. You took all of him, your hands steady on his thighs as you let him use you until he was spent.

When it was, Anthony stood there for a moment, chest heaving, his hand still tangled in your hair. Slowly, he released you, his fingers brushing your scalp softly as if he realized he had been rougher than intended. He looked down at you, a mixture of pride and satisfaction in his eyes.

He pulled you up to your feet, his fingers tracing along your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips, swollen and slick from the intensity of what had just passed between you.

"Better than any story," he whispered, his voice low and possessive. "Better than any fantasy."

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 3

Prompt: Hate Sex Pairing: Designer!Hyunjin x femCoder!Reader WC: 2260 Summary: Hyunjin wants one thing from you, stop calling him “pretty boy”, he can’t help he was born beautiful. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hyunjin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy. TW/CW under the cut.

Warnings: reader implied/is a bully, older reader (age gap not specified), name calling (”slut”, “dumbass”, “asshole”, creative insults around genitalia, gendered/misogynist insults), crying during (reader), PWOP, cum in mouth, unprotected intercourse. I’m also going to call out, sort of dubcon-y as most hate sex is.

 Pretty boy was not a compliment when you said it. Always laced with venom or a sneer. It was as though you’d branded Hyunjin as worthless with two words. Only good as a person to look at. Objectified and demeaned. Even he couldn’t deny that he was in fact a very pretty man. Long brown hair, full pouty lips, deep irises, with a slender yet muscular frame. Not exactly effeminate but not exactly masculine. A beautiful human no matter how you slice it. Which is why your nickname angered him so much.

 It wasn’t easy for you either. Years in the tech field had hardened you. It was a man’s world and you were used to the bro code that had been instilled in you from the early days of voice chat. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, bully or become the bullied. The tech sector was the same.

 Hyunjin wasn’t even in your cohort but you hated him from the moment you saw him. Fresh intern class filing into the large hall for their orientation. You’d hoped that he’d get eaten alive, the soft sensitive looking man thrown unceremoniously into the pool of piranhas. Instead he was gifted to the design department, a soft job for a soft kid. What was worse was his lack of coding knowledge, mostly having worked in print materials the world of internet and tech was foreign and frustrating. Worse still was that despite this he was good at his job, rising through the ranks to be your equal, forcing the two of you into the same project groups quarter after quarter. Any rank you could pull, you did, age included, and he seemed to take it.

 He hadn’t meant to follow you into the windowless supply closet. It just so happened both departments were in dire need of different items. Somehow you’d been conscripted into packaging fancy boxes for capital contributors and design had sent a large order to the floor’s printer with no paper nor ink to spare. The door opening startled you, locking eyes with him as you stare at each other for once devoid of the low boiling slurry of distaste and distrust. Quickly the moment snaps.  Returning to the status quo you sigh, “oh, just you, pretty boy.”  “Stop calling me pretty boy.” Hyunjin states simply. He doesn’t want to make it a huge fight, trying to assume only your best intentions. Part of him figured this would be the only private moment he’d ever have with you, so might as well make use of it.  “Why? It’s true.” You shrug, busy peering in drawers and boxes for your extra packaging supplies. “You’re a very pretty man who is younger than me. A boy. A pretty boy.”  “It’s dismissive. I’m more than that,” the tension strains his voice. “You know I’m more than that. I put in work, effort. I have a passion. Just because I can’t translate it to whatever arcane language you use doesn’t-”  “Listen pretty boy,” you stand up and sneer at him, eyes locked and narrowed. “If I could afford to be as lacking as you, I would. The world has taught you that all you need to do is the bare fucking minimum and doing anything more is considered a large effort. So, pretty boy, count your blessings if I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”  Hyunjin sucks his teeth, a snort of disbelief escaping. “The only people who have ever called me pretty have either wanted to fuck me or be fucked by me so which one is it for you?” His eyes narrow and study you as he steps closer. Your pulse quickens, blood roiling. How dare this brat? How dare he challenge you.  “Neither,” you answer him with daggers in your eyes.  His lips twitch at the corners. “Are you sure about that? You’re barely breathing right now. I wonder if I stepped closer,” his voice trails off. “Or maybe brushed against you, by accident of course.”  “Even HR couldn’t mediate the amount of lawsuits I’d hit you with.” He’s right. You hold your breath as he gets even closer, just staring. You start to dodge around his side but his body blocks yours, shoulder sinking into his chest as he backs you against the shelves, forcing you to tilt your chin to look up at his face. The way your body so quickly betrayed you was concerning to all the ideals you’d upheld for years, tingling and burning endorphins flooding you with dizzying speed.

 Slowly he leans his torso forward almost nose to nose, hands holding onto the shelf and caging you in. “Bet you’ve just been waiting for someone to do this to you, slut.”  The sting comes before the sound, your hand crossing his cheek as swiftly as the word leaves his mouth. “Call me a slut again.”  “Slut.” He hisses, leaning into you. There isn’t quite the surprise to dull the pain of the hit this time, his body is ready for it as you wind up and slap him again. He half smiles, half smirks, tongue bit between his teeth.  “Fuck that’s hot,” your tone is hushed, almost reverent, a revelation as more for yourself than for him. Your lips and tongue clash and fight for dominance as he claims your mouth with his. It’s more a battle than a kiss, both of you unwilling to break first, chasing the other, gasping and groping like teenagers at each other's bodies.  He finally breaks, lips pink and puffy and shining with saliva. The clink of the metal buckle of his belt has you practically dripping. Forcefully he spins you and shoves you, face into the roughly coated cinder block wall.  “Gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.” He mutters, plosives laced with venom. You moan pathetically as his arm presses to your mid back.  “Give it your best shot pretty boy, this making your micropeen hard? Can’t get laid so you have to fight your way into a quick fuck?”  Hyunjin laughs, cackles, harshly grabbing your ass. “Could ask the same for you. Truly I can’t imagine anyone wanting to stick their dick anywhere near your cobweb cunt. Should I check? Should I check to see?”  “Go ahead dumbass, if you can even find it.” You hiss. “All talk no-”  A rip of your stockings and cool air hitting your soaked panties halts the verbal sparring match. Pushing your panties aside he sinks a finger into your hot core, gasping together. “Who’s all talk now? So soaked I slipped right in. Dumb needy hole trying to milk my finger. Gonna thaw you out ice princess.”  You hope he does. Dragging your torso down the wall, your back arches into him, pushing his single digit deeper, wiggling your hips. The swish of his pants crumpling to the floor  “I’m waiting, pretty boy, or is it already in and I just can’t feel it?” Your negging continues, heart fluttering in anticipation. Everything he does is just out of your range of vision, you have no idea what to expect. Even in your heavy petting you hadn’t grabbed for him.  Finger withdrawn he drags the head of his cock along your slit. Hyunjin knows what he’s about to do is mean, he’s felt how tight you are. For a second he considers properly prepping you, stretching you out nicely before abusing your hole. Poised at your entrance he grabs a fistful of hair at the nape of your neck, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. “Ready princess?”  “On you pretty boy,” you sneer in response.  The blunt pressure of his thick member ripping through your walls twists your stomach. Filling you in a single push, Hyunjin muffles your scream with his lips. It steals your breath as your body fights the intrusion. Your legs alternate kicking and shaking below you, suddenly happy to have Hyunjin’s weight pinning you up to the wall.

 “Dumb slut, do you want to get caught? Screaming like that you’ll let the whole company know you’re bending over like a bitch for me.” Hyunjin chides, holding still inside you. His harsh words soothed by his hands, gingerly fixing your hair to the opposite shoulder. Arms wrapping around your chest and waist he holds you close, face buried in your neck.  “Big right?” The soft words are muffled by your skin.  “Mhmphf.”  His teeth run over sensitive spots along your neck, sending you shivering and shuddering in his grasp. “Good right?”  “Yeeehsthhh!” You lisp and writhe.  “Embarrassing right? Getting run through by some kid like me. Gonna slut you out princess.”  Turning your head so you are nose to nose you growl, “shut up and fuck me, pretty boy.”  Hearing his nickname he laughs, blood boiling a bit harder, and unceremoniously pulls out. A pitiful whine escapes your lips with the loss of pressure in your gut. Before you can scold him again he pushes all the way to the hilt again, hearing the air catching in your throat from words lost to pleasure. Each thrust is slow and torturous, felt to the fullest by your walls hugging him in. Despite not working hard you pant like a cat in heat, overwhelmed by the ache of your cunt.  “Afraid you’re gonna cum first?” You jab between groans, frustration clouding your senses. He’s just too slow to build past the agonizing beginnings of your orgasm.  “‘M being kind, can’t have you passing out on me.”  “Bold of you.”  Sucking a small bruise into your neck he buries himself deeply inside of you. “If you insist.”  Instead of withdrawing again his hand skims down your belly to your mound, long thin fingers circling your clit. Each passing swipe coordinates with a shallow thrust, just enough to stimulate you inside and out. All you can do is take what he is giving you, body giving up to his ministrations.  “Shit I think-” you gasp and shake, “I’m gonna cum.”  “I bet you are.” Hyunjin sneers, “and who is to thank for that?”  “You. You are. You.” You burble.  “Who?” His grasp harshens, hips snapping harder.  “HYUNJIN. Fucking asshole. You. Hyunjin. Fuck.” You cum violently around him, walls of your sex baring down on him as a fresh wave of arousal coats the both of you. You cry out, fat tears welling in your eyes as overstimulation hits you like a train, moans turning to choked sobs as you try to catch your breath.  Both of you are sweaty, you shake. Hyunjin maneuvers the both of you to your knees on the ground, your body leaving a shine to the wall where it was pressed. He pulls his slacks under your arms to cushion what they could from the cement. “I made you cum, your turn.”  “Wha?”  His hand comes down hard on your ass, snapping you out of your lusty haze. “Fuck yourself on my cock.” The demanding and demeaning tone has your blood rushing even in your sensitive state. With a sniffle you start moving your hips back and forth, each slide making a grotesque sloppy slick sound. Hyunjin pushes back his sweat and hair from his brow, eyes locked to where he disappears inside of you. “Cunt looks good hugging my cock like this.”  If he’s all about visuals, you’ll be a feast for his eyes. You gorge yourself on him, taking your time like he did to you. Rolling your hips decadently and letting your greedy pussy work itself around him. Hyunjin tries to keep his hands from you, to make you do the work, to take a small petty revenge for the multitude of emails politely thrown back to him by you. He can’t, finally folding, grabbing fistfulls of ass and hips and thighs. He joins you, bent over and caging you again like an animal. Together, writhing as one, grunting as one, your chemistry has never worked better. But it can’t last forever, you can feel his thick muscle seizing inside of you, lower abs and thighs tensing against the cleft of your ass.  “Where,” chokes in a stuttered hurried whisper. “I’m gonna-”  Summoning strength you push up, righting the both of you, pulling him out. It’s the first good luck you’ve gotten of him, flushed red and sweaty and fucked out. He’s impressive for a skinny guy, thick and veiny and heavy in your hands as you continue to stroke him out of habit. Fingers covered in slick release precum flows freely from the tip. “Mouth. Hurry.”  Standing shakily he leans back into the wall, “gonna swallow like a good slut?” Holding the head of his dick to your tongue he pumps pointed down your throat. Your tongue flexes against the underside, massaging the ridge. Hyunjin can’t believe his eyes, you kneeling in front of him, defiantly staring him down as you wait for him to cum. Almost daring him to spill his load anywhere else. With an airy whine a globule of release hits your tongue, hot and bitter. Hyunjin’s hips kick forward, fucking his palm and the top of your tongue, pushing his cum deeper into your throat and making you gag. “Shit,” he hisses as you gag again, another string shooting directly into your throat. Palm to his hip you slide his cock further back, using it to force the bitter seed into your stomach. “Holy shit you’re really-god your throat-that-keep that.”  Gulping the last down you pull from him grimacing and wiping your face. “Two words; pineapple juice, pretty boy.”  “That’s four.”

I always get carried away lmao. This is definitely towards the rougher end of my comfort zone with characters. I can’t help be aware of the fact that some people do take fanfic as a guide to what to expect or hope for with their relationships so it’s a little difficult for me to push that to the back of my mind.

[lovingrosewho]

Framed

Hello there! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything but I recently began watching Criminal Minds again and fell in love with Aaron Hotchner all over again as well, so I just had to write this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) This is my first Criminal Minds (published) fanfic, and the first Hotch x Reader I’ve written ever! (also the first nsfw)

ONE SHOT (but who knows, it may even have a part 2 on a future maybe not-so-near but not-so-far-away either)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Cis!fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3467

Summary: reader has been accused of murdering her older, rich ex-fiancé (of course I took my inspo for this piece of fanfiction from Brooke Whyndam, of the movie “Legally blonde”, also, the line “then show them a picture of his dick” is from that movie).

Warnings: NSFW content (innuendo, sex, curse words, age gap - reader is in her mid twenties, Hotch is in his early/mid forties)

“I didn’t do it!” you scream one last time slamming your fist on the table, on the edge of tears.

It had passed around 8 hours already with you in custody, accused of the murder of your ex-fiancé, a (quite older) man, CEO of a big company in town, and as if that wasn’t enough, the best friend of the sheriff.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rubs his face, tired, after observing Prentiss and Morgan’s attempts to get you to confess. It’s almost 3am.

“Sheriff, with all due respect, I think she’s telling the truth” he tells him with a soft voice after a deep sigh.

“And with all due respect, you profiled that the suspect would be a female in her mid twenties, who we’d have to get the information out of her”.

“And we also profiled she’d be seeking for attention and validation which we don’t see it happening do we?” Aaron retorts rolling his eyes discreetly.

The sheriff gives SSA Aaron Hotchner one last glance before grabbing the doorknob of the interrogation room and storming in, Hotch follows close behind, seeing how the sheriff turns off the videocamera recording what happens inside the interrogation room, knowing no good can come from asking the same questions over and over again when everybody is also tired and fed up with trying to get a false confession out of you, which, from your behavior, Hotch knows it’s impossible.

“That’s it!” the sheriff yells “You killed my best friend! Either you confess or I’ll let you rot in here the rest of the 72 hours we can have you legally detained!”

“For the last time, I. Didn’t. Do it!” you yell back.

The BAU team exchanges glances between each other.

“What judge is going to believe you huh? You were engaged to a successful man in his mid fifties! And then he goes and marries someone even younger than you!”

“That was over two years ago!” you talk back.

“You had motive and opportunity, no judge nor jury is going to understand any other reason for you to be with him that is not for the money”.

“Then show them a picture of his dick! That might clear a few things up” you finally bark at him. The sheriff looks at you in astonishment. Morgan disguises a snicker as a cough, Prentiss bites down her lower lip to suppress a laugh, and Hotchner… Hotchner just stands impassive at you.

The sheriff leaves the room enraged, and everyone else follows, not before giving you an apologetic look. Hotchner is the last one to stay. You see the slightest doubt on his eyes and the subtle twist his lips make. You know he’s thinking about letting you go, but he then lowers his stare and gets out of the room, just like everybody else.

You sigh, drained out of energy after all the interrogations. This can’t be happening to you.

You knew since the moment you met John, that just his pure acquaintance could ruin your life. He had many enemies, and even more groupies who belonged to social circles that if you hadn’t met him, you would have never even imagined they existed, but what you had never imagined either, was that after all the heartbreak, loss and pain of what you thought in that moment to be the love of your life, you’d be reliving all those feelings, cause of some stupid cop negligence.

You lay your head slowly on the table, feeling the coldness of the metal surface on your cheek, and close your eyes for just a couple of minutes. You can’t sleep, not until this nightmare is all over, but at least, you get to have a few moments of peace and quiet before some other agent enters the room and begins yet another interrogation, demanding new information. Information you don’t have.

Outside the gray room, where you can’t hear nor see anything, the BAU team argues with the sheriff about your freedom.

“We’ve gotten out of her everything we’re going to get, I’m telling you, she didn’t do it” Morgan tries to reason with him.

“An unsub who planned a homicide this calculated would be equally calculated both on his answers and his behavior, this girl was in shock when we started showing her the case photos and couldn’t get a single cohesive phrase out. You can’t pin this murder on her” Emily backs up Morgan.

The sheriff looks at both of them, puffs a sigh and places his hands on his hips before discussing.

“Look, I get it, you profilers or whatever think you’re better than all of us, but this is still my county, and while I can have her in custody, I will. Who knows? She might even give up a confession or at least some new information. Goodnight gentlemen. And lady” he starts to walk to the exit without giving any of them any chance to convince him “I suggest you too get some rest. It’s been a long day and there’s one even longer ahead of us. Lock up when you get out”.

With that last statement, the sheriff ends the discussion and exits the precinct. Morgan and Prentiss move their heads in disagreement, proceeding to look back at Hotch, who is frowning at the door the sheriff just left through.

“What now?” both the BAU members look at the unit chief.

“Sheriff is right in one thing: you should get some rest. I’ll stay here with (Y/N), keep her company and see if there’s something we missed” he declares “Call Reid, Rossi and JJ, head back to the hotel, I’ll catch up with you in a few hours”.

“Hotch she’s not our unsub” Morgan defends you again “I mean we could, let her go right?”

“I’m afraid not. If we step ahead of the local officers, we might make things worse by getting ourselves kicked out of the investigation. It’ll be of more use the sooner we find something, anything, that might help (Y/N) clear her name and get her out of here” Hotch answers, he’s looking at Morgan but directs his orders to both of them, he knows his team too well to not know for a fact that Emily is the one who’s more inclined to let you go. They both nod silently.

“All right�� Emily surrenders, not just because she’s too tired to continue arguing, but because she also knows that perhaps getting back to the hotel and going over some of the facts and scenes with Reid or JJ, might be more useful “Do you want me to stay with you? I mean the precinct is completely empty. You’ll be here all by yourself”.

“It’s okay. You and Morgan. Hotel. Rest. We’ll gather first thing in the morning and go through everything we have so far” he assures and doesn’t wait for a reply, beginning to walk back to the interrogation room, hearing the exit door of the precinct close behind him and the key turning.

When he enters again, he finds you on the same position you were trying to rest, your cheek against the now warm table, your hair falling on it and covering parts of your face.

“I’m not asleep” you mutter softly “I just needed to clear my head, breath and relax for a bit”.

Hotch lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, but everything is so quiet, that you get to hear it.

“(Y/N) I know you didn’t do it” he pronounces just as softly as you.

“Really?” you frown and shift your position, sitting back on the chair, looking at him “Then… can I go?”

He presses his lips into a straight line, and lets out a firm, but still tender “no”. A single tear escapes your right eye and you wipe it off quickly, not quite giving in to the emotions just yet. Hotch notices and comes to stand right next to you, laying on the edge of the table.

“If I’d let you go, the local authorities would not let us continue the investigation and they’d pin that murder on you. Trust me, the best we can do right now is wait a few hours until everyone has cooled down and come back with fresh eyes” he guarantees you, his features relaxing as he tells you this “Everything’s gonna be fine”.

“Everything’s gonna be fine” you repeat his words slowly, then look up at him. Damn it. He’s handsome. It’s no secret to anyone you have a thing for older men, but did that trait really have to emerge right now? You can’t help but to laugh out loud at the thought, it’s absurd to you that you could be thinking of that when you’re being accused of murder.

“What’s so funny?” he asks confused, and distances himself ever so slightly from you, without leaving his place on the table.

“Nothing, just…” you start, in an attempt to explain yourself and don’t end up looking crazy “God, if I had met you under any other circumstances, I’d probably be all over you right now”.

SSA Aaron Hotchner does not move, nor his face changes towards you, but you can see the most subtle blush on his cheeks, and his fists tightening. His lips finally crack up a light smile, finding the situation absurd as well, he quickly remembers the videocamera is off.

“You do realize you could be facing murder charges, right?” he asks playfully, kinda mocking you, keeping the volume of his voice down.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry” you apologize “It’s just so late, I’m tired, and well, you’re smoking hot” you confess with an apologetic, but also mischievous, look. Hotch finally lets out a laugh. Get a hold of yourself, Hotchner, he thinks to himself, takes a deep breath and goes back to his serious stare.

“(Y/N), I understand it’s been a long day in which you’ve been under a lot of pressure, but for me to keep up this game would be not only unprofessional, but also unethical. Your mind is probably just making up this crush for you to pass the time and distract yourself from what is happening. You’ll get over me” he explains sweetly.

“I wish I could get under you instead…” your witty retort catches him off guard, he swallows hard and starts coughing. He’s not used to women flirting with him anymore, not for a long time, let alone women almost half his age.

“I’ll see you in a few hours” he says standing up and reaching towards the door, not really uncomfortable by your approaches, but more by his increasing boner.

“No, okay I’m sorry, please stay with me” you beg him, standing up as well “I was just joking. Well, not really, but just… please keep me company, stay?”

He turns back at you not realizing how close you are, less than a couple steps behind him and he almost crashes into you, but he prevents the two of you from tripping by stabilizing himself grabbing your hips, but his hands can’t get to let go afterwards. You breath heavily, feeling the arousal and heat from the proximity suffocating you.

“Please fuck me” you half ask, half beg, admitting to yourself that what you need right now is precisely what agent Hotchner said: relieving some stress and distraction.

SSA Aaron Hotchner can’t help himself.

Ugh, fuck it, he thinks. It’s the sheriff’s fault for turning off the videocamera in an attempt to scare you and try and trick you into making a confession.

Without any further notice, he grabs your ass and the highest part of the back of your thighs to lift you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his back and your arms around his neck, not breaking eye contact as you let him carry you to the table. He places you on the table with tenderness, caressing your back as he does so. You bring your dominant hand to grab his tie and pull him in for a long, wet, controlled kiss, running your other hand along his arm and chest, ending the trace on his cheek, allowing your thumb to move back and forth on his skin.

Quite to be honest, Aaron doesn’t know how well he’ll be able to perform. It’s been a while since he’s last had sex, and his mind is always either on his job, or his family. He’ll probably won’t last more than a few minutes. But he can try and make it up to you.

He begins to deviate his trace of wet kisses from your mouth, to you jaw, your neck, and slowly your chest, discovering little by little the skin under your clothes, while his hands drop by the side of your waist, hips and legs, exploring you under the midi skirt you’re wearing. His right hand finds the slit between your legs, covered by your panties, and starts caressing it through the fabric. He listens to you moan and brings his other hand to cover your mouth with endearment, letting you know you’ve got to keep quiet.

He moves your panties to the side and traces one finger along your slick, inserting it inside of you. You have to suppress an even louder moan. He moves that one finger up and down, hitting your G spot, inserting another finger when you’re ready.

“Please” you beg once again. Aaron chuckles, grabbing you and getting you closer to the edge of the table, proceeding to get down on his knees and sucking all your juices without any type of heads up. You can’t but let out a loud moan. He looks up at you, and even though his eyes demand silence, you can tell there’s the slightest grin on his lips, before he continues sucking and licking your folds and clit. Your back drops to the table, unable to keep yourself steady so you can watch him. You’re trembling with desire and lust “Agent Hotchner, please” you beg once again. Hearing you call him ‘agent Hotchner’ does something to him. He stands up, wiping a little bit of your juices off his mouth and kissing you afterwards, his hands resting on either side of you on the table, one of them coming to grab each of your nipples one at a time.

“How much do you want this?” he asks softly.

“I need you” you answer “Please, fill me”.

His eyes meet yours and he nods slowly. His mouth comes to encircle one of your nipples as he pulls down your underwear and hides it in his suit pocket, and undoes his belt and trousers, without taking any clothes off. You come up from your laying position to support yourself with your elbows on the table, not wanting to miss how the special agent from the FBI takes his cock out to give it to you.

When he’s got it out and ready for you, he pumps it up and down a couple of times before lifting entirely your skirt and positioning himself in your entrance. He enters slowly, letting you take him all in, allowing you to accustom to his size, and for the love of him, he feels like he could explode any second. He breathes deeply and clears his mind, his ego not letting him end up looking like a teenager having his first time.

“Let me ride you” you ask after a few slow thrusts, needing more of him. He looks at you and nods.

God, what is he doing? At least you’re innocent. Are you? Right? You’ve gotta be. The profile doesn’t fit. But they’ve been wrong before haven’t they?

You exchange positions so he’s laying on the table, you get on top of him and guide his cock back into you again. You part your lips in a moan when you come down on him and begin moving your hips, his hands moving alongside them. You lower yourself without stopping so you can kiss him, rubbing your whole torso on his, your sweat making your skin slip on his skin. He grabs your breasts so he can bring them to his mouth, nibbling them.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if this might just be another trick for you to let your guard down. But what could you say that might incriminate you? You know you’re innocent. What if he’s not even a real agent?

You’re so close that you can’t give yourself permission to sink into those thoughts, instead, you start riding Hotch faster and stronger, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you do so.

“Aaron, Aaron…” you moan lowly. You don’t know if it’s okay that you’re on a first name basis already, but it just seems weird to you if you call him ‘Hotch’ like his colleagues.

It seems like he’s perfectly fine with it, as he digs his fingertips on your hips, encouraging you to keep going, feeling how your walls tense around him as your orgasm hits you.

You moan uncontrollably as you come, not being able to keep those in, digging your nails in Aaron’s shoulder suit sleeves. Afterwards, you lay slowly on his chest, until you start feeling like he’s pulling himself out.

“Wait” you gather and pull yourself up again, with him still inside of you “What are you doing? Don’t you wanna finish too?”

He looks at you in disbelief.

“Well I thought you may wanna rest or…” he begins explaining. You laugh and look fondly at him, lowering yourself again to murmur “don’t stop” in his ear.

Of course, he remembers. Twenties.

That’s everything he needs to start thrusting into you with everything he’s got left.

“(Y/N) I’m not-“ he tries to phrase “I’m not going to last longer, I’m- is it okay if I…?”

“Come inside me” you order “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m on contraceptives”.

He decides to believe you, for his sake, and fastens his pace until it becomes sloppy, spilling inside of you just like you asked for, his cum filling you and showing between your folds as he brings himself out.

“Oh my god” he breathes out as he brings you down to his chest, securing his arms around your back, bringing you even closer to him “I’ll put you in handcuffs myself if it turns out you’re not innocent”.

You chuckle, tracing circles on his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

“I am. But still, you can put me in handcuffs any time you want”. He laughs alongside you, still feeling a bit like a teenager. A teenager who just did something very very wrong and that nobody should find out about. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds before his cellphone starts ringing, he answers almost immediately.

“Hotchner” he says calmly “Yes I’m still here. No, everything’s fine, she’s… behaved. Prints don’t match? Well of course they don’t, was García able to tell whose are they then? Right. Well, tell her to keep digging. I’ll see you in a bit”.

After he hangs up he turns to you with a playful look.

“You never touched the gun that was in your purse, did you?” you shake your head.

“Guns and, weapons of any type really, give me the creeps, I just left it there thinking it was someone’s idea of pranking me or something”.

“Well that may have just made your case. You’re free to go. Whoever was trying to frame you did a lousy job not guessing you weren’t going to grab the gun” he tells you arching his brows at you. You stare perplexed at him.

“You’re serious? Oh my god Aaron! Thank you!” you exclaim kissing him.

“Yes, and we should get dressed and get out of here before anything else happens” he affirms gently, helping you stand up so you both can fix your clothes.

“Well, agent Hotchner, it’s been a pleasure. Truly” you tell him when the two of you are walking out of the interrogation room towards the exit.

“Pleasure is all mine, (Y/N)” he says, winking an eye at you “I’d like you to know… I don’t usually do this. I don’t…”

“Aaron” you interrupt sweetly, one of your hands coming to grab his forearm to stop him “I know. I can tell. It’s okay. I know that if I hadn’t initiated it or followed up you would have never even considered it, I get it… but now, can we please do it again?”

He chuckles.

“You know where we’re staying and the number of my hotel room, sweetheart. And I also recall reading on some case file that you’re from Virginia and were just visiting your home town?”

You smile widely at him as you nod, pulling him in from his tie for one last kiss. Or who knows, it might not even be the last one.

MASTERLIST

[myteavsricochet]

Favorite firstprince fanfics, another incomplete list:

(Part 1)

Come Let Me Love You

Henry always struggled to have a good night's sleep. Alex made it easier over the years they had been together, but little cries in the middle of the night always woke Henry.

A little glimpse into a future where Alex and Henry are doting fathers to a beautiful little girl.

Obliviously Devoted

She looks at him in the way only June can. She's the only one he'll allow it from without a fight. "I don't know if you're ready to have this conversation or not."

His fork clatters to the plate in front of him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

June sighs a sigh of long-suffering and pinches the bridge of her nose, before she looks him dead in the eye and sets his world upside down. "You know you and Henry are dating, right?"

Alex gapes at her. Mouth hung open, eyes blown wide. "W-what?"

"I say this with all the love in the world," she says. "But sometimes, I swear, you are the most oblivious idiot on the face of the planet."

Tags: idiots in love, oblivious acd, best friends to lovers, alternate universe - roommates/housemates

(even though you want to) please try to never grow up

“You better have a good fucking reason for sending me to voicemail, Hen.” He glares at the phone for one second before he actually sees the screen, and then his face melts into something Henry can only describe as fond. “Oh,” he whispers, dropping his mug of coffee onto the counter so he can lean in closer to the phone. “Look who’s there.”

“Yeah.” Henry keeps his voice so low he isn’t even sure Alex can hear him. He doesn’t seem to mind, eyes taking in the picture in front of him with parted lips, the edge of his finger covering the camera when he undoubtedly reaches to caress his daughter’s head.

Or, Alex misses his daughter when he goes back to work after a long paternity leave.

tags: domestic, tooth-rotting fluff, family fic

Let Me Wash Away Your Worries

Alex has had a terrible week. Henry is right there to take care of him.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Bath Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Romantic Fluff, Praise Kink, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Worship

ephemeral enchantments

in which Henry is an overworked barista with a tendency to embarrass himself in front of everything that breaths and Alex is charmed from the first time he met him.

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Awkward Flirting

Three fights Alex and Henry never had

Yes, Alex and Henry got their Happily Ever After. But that doesn't mean everything was just automatically perfect when they moved in together...

Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

am i homophobic? (URGENT) (PLEASE HELP)

Now, it might be pretty early in the morning and Alex’s brain functions might not be working as quickly as they normally do, but he can still put two and two together. There's a strange man in their kitchen. Henry is shirtless, rumpled, and holding two pairs of boxers. Henry and this Sam guy slept together. Which… obviously is fine because Alex is not an asshole, but he’s definitely feeling something about this development that he will examine at a later date. But of course, instead of saying something normal, you know, like a normal person would, he says, “Ohh.” Like a fucking weirdo.

or: the "am i homophobic?" roommate au that no one asked for

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Sexuality Crisis, Mentions of homophobia, no one is like actually homophobic though, Idiots in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Unsafe Sex

The shape of your lips bruising my heart

So, that neck-kissing scene in the bloopers? Yeah, that one. Well. I wrote it.

—

In which Alex has a hard time leaving the hotel after their night in Paris.

you’re leaving (now i’m left amongst the living)

Six years since they've been together, Alex and Henry were now a far cry from the lovestruck couple they once were when their history began. If you ask Alex, all of it was Henry’s fault. If you ask Henry, he’d agree and say that Alex was right.

But before Alex could ever find out why Henry does not seem like the man he once decided to spend the rest of his life with, he already walked away from it all. Now, Henry was alone, left to deal with whatever shattered remains he could salvage from his life.

Or, the one where Henry’s sick and Alex only finds out two years after they've broken up.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Lawyer Alex, Writer Henry, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hospitalization

Fifty First Dates

Henry has used a dating app exactly one time. Predictably, the date turns out to be terrible. The bartender, however, is not.

OR

A cute stranger’s solution to Henry’s woeful dating life is to set him up on fifty first dates.

Most People Exist

Henry Fox is a nurse at the New York Cancer Center. He’s happy with his job, content enough with his life, but it all gets turned on its head when he connects with a patient with a brain tumor—Alex Claremont-Diaz.

———

Henry is a nurse, Alex is a patient.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Cancer, Nurses & Nursing, Minor Character Death, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, They will end up happy I pinky swear

i want your dreary mondays

“You little menace,” a voice says from the door, entirely too fond to be anything mean. “I told you to wait by the car, not go inside.” The man steps inside, shaking the rain from his hair, and Henry is treated to the sight of the most beautiful man he’s seen in his entire life, standing in the middle of his shop with clothes dripping to the floor and raincoat bundled up around him. He notices then the umbrella clutched in the little boy’s hand, the innocent wide eyes watching his father, and the picture forms in his head.

Or, five times Henry makes a piece of art for Alex's son on his drinks, and one time he does it for Alex himself.

It's Nice to Have a Friend

Two boys meet on a beach, build a sand castle, write letters, and fall in love.

Tags: Alternative Universe - Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Slow Burn, Growing up together

Leave A Message

"This is Alex Claremont-Diaz's phone. If it's a business matter, I don't know how you got ahold of this number, but if you have my number that means you probably have Zahra's. Call her instead. If you're friends or family, just text me. If you're anyone else, I'll call you back as soon as I can."

Or: Alex's voicemail message over the years, and the messages people leave for him.

I must tell you what you will not ask

Henry's lower lip wobbles, and a fresh tear rolls down his cheek. Alex watches it track down to his chin, and wonders if Henry would mind him wiping it away. “I really was looking forward to seeing them.”

Another tear escapes, and this time Alex can't help but lean forward and brush it away with his thumb. Henry's breath catches, and he looks at Alex, wearing an expression he can't quite parse. “Come home with me,” Alex blurts out.

Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?

drive-thru mornings

“Would you like to pay cash or by card, sir?”

Alex startles, but recovers quickly and smiles charmingly at the girl in the window. Maggie, her tag reads. “By card, darlin’,” he says. “Actually, could I pay for the man behind me, as well? I have no idea what he ordered, but he’s strikingly handsome, isn’t he?”

Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in love

you turned a moment (into forever)

Sharing an apartment with Alex had seemed like a good idea at first. They’re best friends, prices in Brooklyn are absurd, and they had both been in urgent need of residence – it only made sense.

Except for the small, tiny, teeny, barely there fact that Henry has been in love with Alex from the first moment he laid eyes on him. And the fact that Alex doesn’t know, and can never find out.

—

Or, as coffeecatsme so eloquently put it: Roommates AU where Alex has insomnia and slips into Henry’s bed every night because it’s the only way he gets a good night’s sleep.

You Can Hear It In The Silence

At the Lake House, Henry doesn’t run when Alex tells him he loves him. But he can’t say it back; too afraid of the consequences it would have, no matter how true it is. But as the truth settles in, Henry decides Alex is worth fighting for. So he does.

A Long Way From the Playground

Henry and Alex were best friends growing up until they went to separate colleges and they grew apart. When they see each other again as adults, against the odds, both living in the same city again, will it be a joyful reunion or will the pain of the years apart get in the way? How do you become friends again when there is so much of the past in the way?

Oblivion

The man starts to cock the hammer of gun, and Alex squeezes his eyes shut, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly.

“Stop!” Henry shouts, his voice cracking. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll do anything…just please, don’t hurt him.”

Alex’s eyes fly open, shooting Henry the same incredulous look that he gave him in the hallway, and Henry knows he’s shown too much of his hand, revealed a part of himself that he’d sworn he would take to his grave, but he’s too full of fear and desperation to feel self-conscious about it now. He can deal with the consequences when they get out of this.

If they get out of this.

******

What if the moment in the hospital wasn’t a false alarm and the publicity surrounding the forced bromance between Alex and Henry had the adverse effect of them being kidnapped together?

Confidential Memorandum

"Hello, Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's office. How may I help you?"

"Hello, can I speak to Mr. Fox-Mount-krishen, please?"

Alex blinked. After two weeks of hearing nothing but the voices of snooty men and frazzled secretaries calling in, the person on the other line now sounded decidedly neither snooty nor male nor in any way adult.

It was a little girl.

"Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's unfortunately in a meeting right now,” Alex began slowly, “but I could take a message?"

"Oh." The girl paused. "You're not Mr. Hunter."

Alex starts a new job as Henry's new assistant. Henry's daughter keeps calling the office and leaving him messages.

we thought we ruled the world

Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.

How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election

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

Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.

Run, Don't Walk

Henry loves sex. He loved sex even before he was with Alex, although there's something to be said for the level of precision and intimacy acquired through years of learning each other's bodies. He's liked being filled from the first time he ever experienced the feeling, and he doesn't think he'll ever love anything quite as much as he loves getting fucked.

But this? This is giving him pause for thought.

Tags: Porn without plot, Marathon sex, Henry loves sex, and Alex, and sex with Alex

london bridge has fallen down

Alex can feel the eyes of the room on him as Shaan approaches his side. Then, Shaan quietly murmurs in his ear. They’re words he’s thought about before, distantly wondering about what might happen when they were finally uttered. How their lives might change. There’s nothing that can prepare him for the reality of it though, nothing that can prepare him for how his breath hitches when Shaan speaks.

‘London Bridge is down, Sir.’ 

---

Queen Mary is dead. Henry doesn't know how to feel.

Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place (and forget macbeth is a fucking tragedy)

"You don't owe me anything."

"Of course I do. If you have time now...there are things I'd like to say."

Alex hesitates.

"I know I don't have any right to ask you to listen," Henry adds. He sounds so hopeful though.

A little closure doesn't sound like a terrible thing. Agreeing to go with Henry, alone, to Kensington Palace sounds like returning to the scene of a crime.

It's been over a decade since their breakup - Alex is now a single dad forging his career as a lawyer, and Henry's finally getting the courage to stand up to his grandmother. In finding themselves, can they also find their way back to each other?