#(even though i just finished my replay like two weeks ago) or something new?!

[cordrot]

hi pls give me ur game recs 🤍

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 9

Authors Note: After a long break (due to me being violently ill for 2 weeks) I have finally finished chapter 9!! Please enjoy and lmk how you feelllll, LUVE YOU ALL

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary : Tensions rise after Gojo faces the higher-ups and y/n’s fate hangs in the balance. With unsettling revelations emerging, Gojo is determined to protect y/n at all costs—even as it challenges his own resolve. Amid the turmoil, secrets come to light that could change everything, leaving Gojo wrestling with his own emotions, and how to deal with them after his and y/n's moment...

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: noneee

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; @sugxryratz; @kinny-away; @crankyarchives; @enfppuff; If you’d like to be added to the series tag list, leave a comment below:)

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Gojo strolled back into the room where Itadori and Nobara were waiting, his usual carefree expression back in place, as if he hadn’t just threatened the higher-ups a few moments ago. 

His gaze swept across the room, noticing your absence. One brow arched slightly in curiosity.

"Well, well," he said casually, as if he were returning from a leisurely walk instead of an intense confrontation. 

"Looks like I missed something. Where’s y/n?"

Itadori scratched the back of his head, his grin a little too wide. 

"Uh, well… She kind of ran off. Looked pretty embarrassed, actually."

Gojo’s lips curved into a smirk, though his eyes sharpened with interest. 

"Embarrassed, huh? I wonder what that’s about."

Before Itadori could say anything more, Nobara jumped in with a teasing edge to her voice. 

"Oh, come on, Gojo-sensei. You know exactly why. That whole intense-stare-thing… You guys were practically glued together before you left. She couldn’t handle your ‘charm.’"

"Wow," Gojo responded dryly, placing a hand on his hip.

 "I didn’t realize I’d become a hot topic among my own students. I’m flattered, really." His gaze flicked toward the door where you had disappeared, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. 

"Anyway, I’ve got some news for you. The execution's off."

Itadori and Nobara’s faces lit up with relief. Nobara crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. 

"Wait, so… did you threaten to kill them or something?"

Gojo’s smirk widened, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

"Somethin’ like that," he said, his tone nonchalant as though he hadn’t just put his career on the line.

Itadori let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“That’s a relief,” Gojo said, glancing at Nobara with a smirk. “Guess that means no more secret meetings.”

Nobara crossed her arms, eyeing him critically. 

“Yeah, well, now she’s probably off somewhere freaking out,” she retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I wonder who could've caused that?”

As Gojo turned to leave, Nobara called after him with a teasing tone, 

“Try not to scare her off again, sensei! She’s not like your fangirls, you know?”

He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder, his grin widening. 

“Didn’t you two scare her off with your teasing?” He quipped, arching an eyebrow. 

Without waiting for a response, Gojo headed down the corridor, his grin lingering. 

But as he walked away, a flicker of concern danced behind his usual carefree demeanour. Protecting you wasn’t just a duty anymore—it was starting to feel personal. And that was making things more complicated than he was willing to admit.

—

As Gojo wandered down the corridor, he tried to push away the memory of your kiss, but it kept resurfacing, unbidden. 

His mind replayed the moment: the way you had looked up at him with a mix of surprise and something else in your eyes that had drawn him in. 

He could still feel the lingering warmth of your lips against his, the way his hand had tightened in your hair as if afraid to let you go.

For just a second, he felt his cheeks warm up at the thought, and irritation flickered in his chest. Stop thinking about it, he told himself sternly. 

It was just a kiss—nothing he couldn’t handle. He wasn’t some lovestruck teenager…But the way your eyes had lingered on his, the way his pulse had quickened... it had felt different.

He forced himself to focus. 

He had more pressing concerns than a moment of weakness. He needed to find you, and then he needed to get some answers about the cursed energy inside you. 

There were still too many questions, and until he got them resolved, he couldn’t afford to let his emotions get in the way.

—

Gojo wandered across the grounds, searching for you when he spotted Shoko near the infirmary. She held a stack of papers, clearly containing the results of her latest findings.

"Shoko," he greeted, keeping his voice casual though his eyes were already assessing her expression. 

"What's the verdict? You got something for me?"

She nodded slowly, holding up the documents as if presenting evidence. 

"I do, but you’re not going to like it," she began, her tone calm but with an undertone of concern. 

"I've been running tests on y/n's cursed energy. The results confirm what I suspected... The dark cursed energy she released isn’t naturally hers."

Gojo’s easygoing demeanour dropped in an instant, his eyes narrowing. 

"You mean to say someone put it there?" His voice was steady, but a dangerous edge lurked beneath it.

"There’s no other explanation,” Shoko replied, her brow furrowed in thought. 

“It doesn’t resemble anything like a curse born from her emotions or trauma. It behaves like a foreign entity—an implanted cursed energy. And not just any kind… It’s layered, intricate, like whoever did this took their time to ensure it blended in, at least until something triggered it."

Gojo's jaw tightened, his thoughts racing as he processed what she was saying. 

"So someone intentionally implanted this cursed energy into her, knowing it would lay dormant until the right moment?"

Shoko sighed and nodded. "It looks that way. There’s no trace of it interacting with her own energy in a typical way. It’s almost like a curse or a technique with a purpose of its own. Whoever did this had a goal in mind." 

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, they softened. 

Gojo's fingers flexed at his sides as a wave of protectiveness surged through him. 

"Do you think she’s cursed?" He asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Shoko tilted her head, considering her answer. 

"If she is, it’s unlike any case I’ve ever seen. Cursed objects or implanted techniques tend to cause a direct, ongoing influence. This is more like… a trap, lying in wait. My gut tells me it’s something else. The energy doesn’t feel like it’s trying to take over her; it’s more like it’s programmed to act under certain conditions."

“So, you’re saying someone’s using her like some kind of weapon?” Gojo’s voice dropped, a mix of frustration and anger leaking through.

"Possibly," Shoko said quietly. 

"But we don’t know why, or who could be behind it. Not yet. What’s clear is that it wasn’t by chance—it’s deliberate. And that means we’re dealing with someone who knows how to work around even the most secure barriers."

Gojo's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flashing through them. 

"I'll make sure they regret it." He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But first, I need to figure out how to help her. There’s no way I’m letting them get away with this.”

Shoko placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. 

“Satoru, we don’t even know what’s going on yet, the only thing my assessments confirmed was that this energy was placed in her.”

He took a moment, allowing the weight of her words to settle. 

“I can’t lose her, Shoko. Not to this. She’s been through enough, and I won’t let her feel any more pain than she has to. Promise me you’ll keep this between us for now.”

Shoko’s brow furrowed slightly, skepticism flickering in her eyes. 

“You know I can’t keep everything from her. She deserves to know what’s happening inside her.”

“Not yet,” he insisted, his voice firm but low, the urgency evident. 

“If she knows about the dark energy, it might only add to her stress. Let me handle it until we understand more. Just… keep your findings to yourself, especially from her.”

Her sigh was heavy, resignation threading through her tone. 

“Fine. But I won’t let you go down this path alone. If things change, I want to know. She’s still my patient, after all.”

Gojo nodded, the weight of his resolve settling back onto his shoulders as he turned to leave, a shadow of concern still lingering in his eyes. He knew he was walking a fine line, and as much as he didn’t want to lie to you, the thought of you carrying the burden of this secret was unbearable.

As he stepped out of the infirmary, the fading sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow that felt both comforting and misleading. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the calm was merely a prelude to the storm ahead, and he was determined to shield you from it for as long as possible.

—

After Shoko left, Gojo found himself wandering the grounds in a daze. Her words echoed in his mind, intertwining with the unease that had settled deep in his chest.

You were being used. Someone had turned you into a pawn in their twisted game, manipulating you from the shadows. 

It infuriated him, made him want to tear apart anyone who had dared to lay a hand on you. But anger wasn’t going to solve anything—it was just a reaction, a mask over his real fear: that he might not be able to protect you.

His fists clenched at his sides as the kiss you shared replayed in his mind, unbidden. 

The way you had looked at him, the softness of your lips, the brief, raw connection. It had felt right in that moment, like something he’d been craving without realizing it.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

He had let himself get carried away by his feelings—by whatever had been stirring inside him since the day he found you. 

He had kissed you–allowed himself to indulge in that moment, when he should have been focusing on what truly mattered: keeping you safe.

What was he doing, letting emotions cloud his judgment? 

You were in danger, and he had no time to be distracted by… whatever this was between you. 

It wasn’t fair to you, either. He couldn’t risk pulling you closer when the threat surrounding you was still out there, lurking in the dark. It was irresponsible. Selfish, even.

His jaw tightened as he forced himself to face the truth. Letting himself kiss you had been a mistake—one he wouldn’t allow to happen again. 

He needed to suppress whatever he was feeling, shut it down, and lock it away. You needed someone who could be level-headed and determined to protect you, not someone who was getting lost in feelings he didn’t even know how to define.

“I’m done with that,” he whispered to himself, the words hanging heavy in the air. “No more distractions.”

It was his job to keep you safe, and he was done letting his own desires get in the way. There was no room for weakness, and no room for mistakes.

With a deep breath, he straightened his posture. He would find you and explain the situation, make sure you were prepared for whatever might come next. 

But that was all. There would be no more moments of tenderness, no more blurred lines. He would be your protector, your mentor—nothing more.

The kiss had to be the last time. And he would make sure it was.

—

As Gojo walked down the hallway, his thoughts drifted back to that moment he had been trying so hard to push away. 

Despite his determination to move on, the memory of your kiss came flooding back, as vivid as if it had just happened.

He could still feel the warmth of your lips on his, the way you had leaned into him, a mix of surprise and something deeper in your eyes that had pulled him in. 

His hand had rested on the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as if holding you there, afraid to let go. 

It wasn’t just the kiss itself; it was the way everything seemed to fall away—the weight of his responsibilities, the chaos of the world—leaving only you and him in that moment.

For just a second, as he recalled it, he felt his cheeks heat up—a rare blush creeping over his face that he hadn’t expected. 

It wasn’t like him to get flustered, and yet there he was, reliving the sensation of your lips brushing against his, your breath mixing with his, the rapid thump of his own heartbeat as he pulled you closer. 

The feeling had been electrifying, overwhelming in a way he hadn’t experienced in years.

A sudden irritation rose in his chest as he shook his head, scolding himself. 

Stop thinking about it, he ordered silently. 

He wasn’t some teenager caught up in his first crush—he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive. There was no time for him to be losing composure over something as trivial as a kiss.

But even as he tried to push the memory away, a small part of him couldn’t help but linger on it. 

The way you had looked at him afterward, breathless and wide-eyed, had stirred something unfamiliar inside him—something he didn’t quite know how to name. 

It wasn’t just desire or affection; it was a need to protect, to shield you from whatever was coming. And, as much as he hated to admit it, the kiss had made him feel… vulnerable.

He took a sharp breath, trying to snap himself out of it. 

His cheeks still felt warm, though he hoped it was just from walking quickly. There was no use dwelling on something that had already happened. 

He needed to stay focused on what really mattered—finding out who had implanted that cursed energy in you and ensuring you were safe.

That kiss didn’t mean anything, he told himself again, though the faint sting in his chest argued otherwise. 

And with that, he pushed the memory back, forcing his thoughts to harden, to bury whatever softness he had allowed himself to feel.

He had made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let it happen again, and he intended to keep it. 

No more letting his guard down. There was too much at stake. 

You were at stake.

—

You walked down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet as you made your way back to your room. 

The encounter with Nobara and Itadori replayed in your mind, but it kept getting overshadowed by something else—something that had your pulse racing and your skin tingling.

The kiss.

The moment you thought of Gojo’s lips on yours, your breath hitched. 

The memory of him pulling you closer was still vivid, his fingers weaving into your hair and applying just enough pressure to send a shiver racing down your spine.

That slight tug had drawn a soft gasp from your lips, and in that instant, his tongue slipped into your mouth, the memory of it made you breathless yet again.

You could still feel the faint sensation of him groaning against your lips, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through you, making the kiss all the more intoxicating.

You swallowed hard, your fingers brushing against your own lips as if trying to recapture the intensity of it. 

It had been consuming—like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment. 

The heat of his body against yours, the way his hands had roamed as if memorizing every curve, every breath—it had felt like you were falling into something deeper than just a kiss.

Was it possible that you had feelings for him, more than just the admiration you felt as his student? 

The way you had melted into his touch, how your heart had skipped a beat with every movement of his lips—it was becoming undeniable. 

Whatever you felt for Gojo wasn’t as simple as you had once thought.

You reached your door, your fingers trembling slightly as you turned the knob. 

Once inside, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The room was dark, the faint moonlight streaming through the window casting silver lines across the floor. 

But even in the darkness, the phantom touch of his hands on you lingered, the taste of him still fresh on your tongue.

Your chest tightened as your thoughts kept drifting back to him. 

His playful grin, the teasing tone of his voice, the rare moments when his blue eyes softened into something almost tender. 

There was a magnetic pull to him, something about him that was becoming more than just captivating—it was starting to feel personal, intimate in a way you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

You couldn’t deny it anymore. 

You had feelings for him—feelings that were far more complex, far deeper than you had ever intended to let yourself feel. 

And now, after that kiss, they were impossible to ignore.

—

Gojo stood outside your door, his hand raised, ready to knock. 

He could sense you on the other side, your cursed energy a soft, familiar presence just beyond the wooden barrier. 

He stared at the door, his expression unusually serious as the memory of the kiss flickered in his mind. 

He could still feel the way you had responded to him, the heat of your body pressed against his, the sound of your breath mingling with his own. 

His cheeks grew warm, and he quickly pushed the thought aside, frustrated by the effect it had on him.

He hesitated, his hand still poised to knock. 

The kiss had been a mistake—he knew that now. 

It had only complicated things, and you probably needed space after everything that had happened today. He sighed, lowering his hand.

"It’s late," he muttered to himself, stepping back from the door. 

"I’ll talk to her tomorrow."

With that, he turned and walked down the corridor, leaving behind the conversation that would have to wait for another day.

—

The morning sunlight spilled across the halls of Jujutsu High, bathing the corridor in a golden glow. 

You could feel its gentle warmth seeping into your skin, but nothing could compare to the lingering warmth from last night—when Gojo's lips had moved against yours and his hands had gripped you with a mixture of need and tenderness. 

The memory sent a shiver down your spine, making your pulse quicken as a smile tugged at your lips. 

You replayed the moment over and over again, the way he had pulled you closer, his breath mixing with yours as if he was afraid to let you go. 

There was no denying it anymore; you were looking forward to seeing him again today.

As you rounded the corner on your way to the common area, you nearly collided with someone blocking your path. 

Startled, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat. Standing there was Gojo, his familiar grin spreading across his lips. 

But something about it seemed off—it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, Satoru,” you greeted, your voice soft, carrying a warmth that seemed to cut through the distance between you. 

Saying his name felt right, natural, like a promise that hung in the air between you. But as soon as the words left your lips, his eyes flickered, and you saw it—that pang of something in his gaze, a hesitation he quickly buried.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, as if he was forcing himself to stay detached. 

“We need to talk.”

The brightness in your eyes faded, replaced by a thread of confusion. 

“Oh…?” You asked cautiously, the hope in your chest wavering.

He took a step back, as if creating more physical distance would help keep the conversation from crossing the line he had already breached.

“About last night,” he said, the casual tone in his voice gone, replaced by something colder. 

The mention of it sent a jolt through you, your cheeks flushing at the memory. 

“What about it?” you asked, your voice small.

“It was a mistake,” he stated bluntly, the words like a blade slicing through the air. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. It was completely out of line.”

You stared at him, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. 

"Out of line?" You echoed, barely able to find your voice, "I… I didn’t think it was.”

“Well, it was,” he shot back, the harshness in his tone almost startling. He didn’t soften his gaze, didn’t try to sugarcoat it—he needed to shut this down before the situation spiralled further out of control. 

“I’m your teacher, y/n. I’m supposed to be guiding you, protecting you—not… confusing you with things like that.”

The word "teacher" stung, like he was deliberately trying to widen the gap between you, using it as a barrier to push you away. Your chest tightened with hurt and frustration.

“Teacher?” You snapped, a spark of anger flaring in your eyes. 

“That’s a bullshit excuse, Satoru, and you know it.”

His expression hardened, his jaw tightening. 

“It’s not an excuse,” he insisted, voice low and edged with a warning. 

“It’s the reality. You’re my responsibility, and I crossed a line. It was a lapse in judgment, nothing more.”

You shook your head, disbelief colouring your features as you stepped closer to him, refusing to let the distance grow. 

“It didn’t feel like a lapse,” you argued, your voice rising despite the lump forming in your throat. “You’re acting like you didn’t mean it, like it didn’t mean anything.”

He clenched his teeth, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if fighting to stay in control. 

“Well, maybe I didn’t mean it,” he said, the flatness of his tone a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. 

“And it won’t happen again.” His words felt like a wall slamming down between you, closing you out with brutal finality.

The anger bled away, replaced by a hollow ache that gnawed at your insides. You shook your head, the disappointment clawing its way to the surface. 

“Then why did you look at me like you meant it?” You whispered, the question escaping before you could stop it.

He hesitated, his eyes widening, as if you had struck something inside him. He then exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. 

“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, his voice a touch quieter than before, almost regretful. “I need to focu—”

“What do you need to focus on?” you interrupted, your tone sharpening with suspicion. “What aren’t you telling me?”

His jaw clenched, and for a heartbeat, something unspoken flickered in his eyes—an emotion too swift to name before it was buried behind his usual confidence. 

He took a step back, the distance between you widening as if he was retreating from the confrontation.

“You’re reading into things,” he replied curtly, his voice steady. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Don’t lie to me, Satoru,” you shot back, taking a step toward him, unwilling to let the space grow wider. 

“I can see it in your eyes. You know something. Is it about the cursed energy Shoko found?”

His expression hardened, the flicker of surprise at her name quickly masked by a cool indifference.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his tone firm and unyielding. “Shoko didn’t find anything unusual, not anything worth worrying about.”

The words hung in the air, a brittle barrier between you that did nothing to ease the weight pressing against your chest. 

There was a quiet resolve in his voice, as if he had already convinced himself that withholding the truth was somehow justified.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders falling just slightly. 

“Y/n, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he murmured, almost like a plea. “I’m not going to complicate things. I can’t.”

You felt your throat tighten, the hurt squeezing your chest as you met his gaze one last time. 

“Fine,” you breathed, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s for the best,” he replied, and god he hated how rehearsed it sounded, as though he had convinced himself of the lie. 

He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else before turning on his heel, his retreating figure disappearing down the hall.

You stood there, staring after him, the empty corridor suddenly feeling much colder. 

Outside, the sunlight continued to spill into the common area, but it no longer seemed to reach you. It felt distant and cold, a reminder of the warmth that had been stolen away by the gap Satoru insisted on creating. 

You watched his retreating figure, the hurt crashed over you in waves, relentless and consuming, as if a tide of disappointment had swept through the corridor, erasing the warmth that had felt so real just moments ago.

Your breath hitched as the weight of his words pressed down on you, the gravity of his rejection settling deep in your chest. 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from you, something important enough to justify his actions. 

Whatever light had illuminated your heart was extinguishing, fading like the remnants of a dream upon waking. 

The ache in your chest deepened, and the pit in your stomach twisted tighter, gnawing at you with the knowledge that he decided to suddenly push you away, whatever the reason may be.

[quibbs126]

I can finally post this, after weeks!

But yeah, this here is something I made to celebrate the 9th anniversary of Evoland 2

Some people may remember this work in progress from weeks ago, but now I can finally show the finished product. Which I finished 2 weeks ago

It’s based on the 3D picture you get when you finish the game, specially the 100% completion, and more specifically, my screenshot that I took when I first completed the game and got 100%

Though I should probably also note that this was the only picture I had of the beach scene until I was mostly done with the picture, so there are some inaccuracies between it and the original. Except for Reno in place of the Prophet, that was completely intentional

This game was I think the first (and will probably be the only) game I’ve ever 100% completed, and when I did it the first time, it was just because I knew that games would have extra things for those who 100% it, and I wanted to see what the game would give me. It’s the only time I was so invested in a game that I had to know what I’d get if I got everything. It’s also the only game where losing nearly 10 hours of progress due to a (maybe) glitch does not make me give up the game in frustration, but instead complete the entire thing within a single school week

I may gripe about my issues with the game, but I absolutely love it, and I have a lot of fun playing it. Well, aside from the parts I’m bad at, but that’s just because I’m bad at them. I feel like I have next to nothing to complain about from a gameplay perspective (which is in part because I don’t know how to critique gameplay, but also because I think any issues I have are my own fault), it’s just narrative stuff. And even then, I wouldn’t nitpick it so much if I wasn’t so invested in the world, story and characters

Maybe today I’ll start replaying it again, seeing how I’m pretty sure I’m free today from any schoolwork

I’m still holding on to some admittedly delusional hope that a 3rd game could release one day, even if I know it’ll almost certainly have nothing to do with this one, but even if it never does, I’ll still have this game to play over and over again, so I can accept it

I was disappointed that I missed the last two, since I first played the game in 2022, but not this year, I remembered!

Now to just talk about the art itself, the reason there’s two versions is because I originally made the background lineless, but after finishing the characters I thought it maybe clashed a bit too much, so I made a duplicate of the picture to do a lined version. But I also spent so long on the lineless version that I didn’t want to just leave it in the void, so I’m showing it too

Admittedly now I think I can say the lined version probably is the better one, but I can still show off both

I used the card colors for the characters, since all of them have cards for reference, but now I’m looking at the colors and thinking they look somewhat wrong. At least on Menos

Also as mentioned prior, I switched out the Prophet for Reno. I know I’m biased but I really think he’d fit in this picture of all the main characters far more than the Prophet, considering he’s kind of the reason the plot started, the second half happened, and he’s the main motivation for one of our party members. I mean, I see why the Prophet’s there in the original. He’s really the only other semi-important character with a 3D model, and Reno never had one, so they’d have to make an entirely new one just for this extra thing. Also it doesn’t make sense for him to have a 3D model in the first place, especially not of his Present era self. But not only is this now a drawing where I have the power to do what I want, this scene isn’t canon in the first place, so put Reno in the background there!

Overall though, I’m honestly surprised the piece turned out as good as it did. Those who follow me know that I was really struggling with drawing during the summer, more specifically drawing people and the Evoland 2 cast. But despite all that, I think the characters turned out pretty well. Certainly not the best, but better than I was expecting. And not only that, but the background turned out so much better than I thought it would, especially since I don’t usually do backgrounds. Though I suppose it does help to have a reference for all this though. But yeah, there was a reason I was so proud of how the sketch turned out, and while the final product may not have entirely been what I was hoping for after the sketch, it still turned out pretty good

As long as I can remember it next year (which I really hope I can, considering that’s the 10th anniversary), I’ll try to make something there too, hopefully with much improved drawing skills, since I’m still trying to figure all that out again still

Not sure what I’ll draw then. Maybe I could redraw the beach scene, or make an entirely new beach scene concocted by my brain. But it’s also the 10th anniversary next year, so maybe it should be something more special

Ah well, that’s next year’s problem. For now, have this to celebrate the game’s anniversary. For the minuscule amount of people who actually play this game, I guess

[snowmuttgetsweird]

5/2/23, late morning

Been a minute.

I've mostly just been too occupied to really post here- not all bad stuff, some good stuff. Between work and play, I've been too tired to type most evenings, so I'm just taking a little time out of my morning while I sip some coffee to journal a bit.

I've been working really hard to try to catch up on commission stuff. A couple months ago I had like, a two-week long burnout where I BARELY worked at all- and if I did it was like, the absolute bare minimum, at a snail's pace. Since then I've been paying for it- I end up working on the PREVIOUS month's commissions during the time I need to be taking NEW work for the NEXT month's rent, plus Patreon Mini Commissions (I still need to do those for April in fact), and it kinda just keeps snowballing. I AM further along with commissions this time around than last month though, so I AM starting to actually catch up with my workload. It helps that my clients have been very patient with me, I'm so thankful for that. I'm glad they can be so confident that I WILL get their art done given the time to do so, and that they're willing to wait. I guess that's just the fruits of my hard work to ensure that's the truth of things. I ALWAYS finish the piece. I had one slip on that like two years ago and I made a personal vow never to let it happen again. Trello helps with that.

Besides work, I'm trying to still make time for play.

I DID make enough to buy the Digimon cards I wanted- about $45 bucks worth, so that's really cool. Digimon is nice, specifically because it's one of the cheaper TCGs I can play. I've mostly abandoned Yugioh because of the price tag. Initially I started playing Gallantmon because of the structure deck when I was first getting into the game, and since then I've stuck with it and haven't bothered to build anything else. Being a lower-tier/rogue deck, it's on the cheaper side even by Digimon standards as long as I don't invest in alternate art cards. In addition to that, being a popular, main character digimon, Gallantmon will likely, consistently, receive more support throughout the game's lifespan, so I should consistently have opportunities to expand and evolve the deck as long as the game goes on. Even if it's mid now, statistically, it'll likely get enough support to become genuinely strong later. Plus, Guilmon is just an absolute cutie.

That aside, a good friend of mine gave me the money to just straight up buy Resident Evil 4 Remake. He was enjoying it so much, knew I wanted it, and knew I wouldn't be able to afford it myself for quite some time, that he basically just bought it for me, so I've been playing that most evenings after work. It's /really/ good, and really I couldn't imagine a better game to invest in. RE4 has always had really good replay value, and the same can be said for REm4ke. I plan to play the game over and over for a while.

I've also been trying to learn chess on the side. I've always been interested in chess and enjoyed playing, but I'm quite bad and never really put time or effort into studying openings or anything. At this point in my life, with so much going on, I'm not sure I have the time to dedicate to it AND my other hobbies.

My roommate's birthday is coming up. I'd love to buy them something, but that might be out of the question, so I'm thinking of doing some art, getting it printed and framed, and gifting them that. I've got an idea for a three-piece suite I'd like to do maybe that could display well on a wall or atop a shelf- SFW, of course.

Uhh I think that's it for now, I'm not sure what else to say. I don't really have anything else going on, I'm just working and playing games. That never really changes lol.

TTYL.

[cheesus-doodles]

You ask for Izana and I shall give it to you!-Winky Wink

Y'know, there’s one common trope in Yandere writing that you haven’t touched yet. Darling escape Izana's gremlin clutches.

Let’s just say that Izana's possessiveness and protectiveness were so severe that he justified his crime of imprisonment to protect his innocent and fragile darling inside his own home or rented a place to imprison her. The neighbor were somewhat aware of what was the darling's situation, but everyone ignore her because they didn’t want to mess with the boss of the infamous Toman. Thus, Izana's crime had been unpunished for a long time. Until one day, the cops barged inside their home, arrested Izana on spot and rescue the darling. It was all thanks to anonymous who post a vid of the darling being abused. Legal stuff happened leading to Izana was sentence 5 years in jail.

Darling recover from her trauma and started to live normally again. Those five years was the happiest time for darling till the demon forced himself into darling's life. Despite the fact Izana was imprisoned, he still had connections in the police force, allowing him to gave out command to his gang inside the jail. Once he about to finished serving his sentence, he order his goons to kidnapped his beloved dearest or something like that. Thus, Darling is forced to relived the nightmare she faced 5 years ago all over again

I wonder if this is good enough?

Sorry for the sudden quietness here folks - been bashing my head against this for the better part of two weeks, and its finally completed! Feels kinda weird to be plugging this here given this is a sfw blog, so this will be the first and only time I will ever put any Minors DNI content here. A little (sfw) taste below for the curious!

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Please do check it out if you are 18+ on my new side blog (and read the trigger warnings and rules on interaction carefully), link is at the bottom! Back to the usual content soon!

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A Waltz In the Dark

Yandere Yazuka Boss Izana

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Twirling a picture between two fingers on one hand, lit cigarette pinched in the other, Izana exhaled, the smoke drifting lazily out through the small crack in the window. The gentle light of the moon did little to illuminate the inside of his cell, let alone the photo he held ever so gently, yet the tanned man could hardly bring himself to care - after all, each and every picture he owned of you had long been burned into the back of his eyelids. He could see them even when he closed his eyes: your doting smile, your bright doe eyes, the loving looks you sneaked when you thought no one was looking. Izana knew them all, and you, by heart. 

The prison was dead silent at this time of the night, though Izana found it hard to pinpoint when this little slice of hell ever bustled like the other parts housing the general population - the solitary isolation ward was made to quash his command over the outside world, and to punish monsters like him. But while tranquility had once been considered a rare treat, a respite from his hectic days running his yakuza empire, the quietness now hung over him like a curse that he couldn’t exorcize. The same silence he was forced to endure alone on that tortuous day you were torn away from his grip, the serenity of the solitary isolation wards only served to force Izana to replay the torment again and again when he tried to rest - a broken, wretched movie on repeat that he had no escape from. 

It had always been you and him against the world. Kind, gentle, innocent you who he worshiped with his whole being, who deserved nothing but the best in return for your love, your affection. Then the onslaught of blue uniforms that broke into the sacred temple he built to protect you from the world, snatching you away from his arms like the unforgiving jaws of a saltwater crocodile. And Izana could only watch as you were forced out into a harsh reality you were never built for, while he was thrown into prison on some superficial charges based on an anonymous tip off, to the delighted howls of pretentious scum.

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Read the whole fic here on my (very new) nsfw side blog (mind the trigger warnings!):

[barry-j-blupjeans]

15 seems to really fit blup+Taako and 27 seems to fit taakitz really well. maybe it's basic but that's me baby!!!! can I get one of those? dealer's choice.

15. “I see how you look at my sister”

--

Taako's had a few weird fucking weeks. The whole... thing with Sazed had been- yikes. No fun. He was trying not to think about it too much, but he couldn't stop replaying the scene when he closed his eyes. Finishing the dish. Saying a funny little quip. Lup had made an even funnier quip back but, for some reason, the response had slipped from his mind. Instead, all that really stuck with Lup pulling his arm back as he went to give out the first sample, hard enough for him to drop the entire platter, and saying,

"Don't fucking serve that."

Seeing his sister die wasn't- like it wasn't great, okay? And seeing her red ghost Casper-looking soul rise from her body wasn't ideal either, to be honest! There had been a moment when the crowd had descended into complete and utter silence. Then, someone came running back with a doctor and the world split into noise again. People, pointing, some screaming, the doctor rushing up to the stage, and Lup- Lup speaking straight static into his ears, unmoving from over her body.

Yeah, it's been fucking wild out here.

And Taako had to admit, it could have been a lot worse! It could have been a whole lot worse. Lup could have properly died and not turned into a ghost. Taako could have died, which would have been equally bad or even worse, considering Lup had informed him that he would not, in fact, also turn into a ghost. Sazed had gotten away, sure, but at least Taako wasn't being blamed for Lup's death or the almost-death forty people.

But still. If you had asked Taako a few weeks ago where he'd imagine himself being in a few weeks' time, he would have probably said something like vacation, or more touring. Instead, he was sitting in a cold, damp cave, twisting his Stone of Farspeech to match with a new frequency. Overhead, Lup's spectral form was in a deep conversation with another, slightly smaller, floating red-robed ghost. Taako, frankly, could not wrap his head around their conversation and had stopped trying.

"Taako!" Lup said. Taako looked up. "I've called your name like, five times, dingus."

"I thought you were still doing static stuff," Taako said. "What's up?"

"I gotta go get a new blood processor for the tank," Lup said. "Wanna come?"

"Uhh, no, I'm good," Taako said, remembering where they had gotten the last part of the tank from. It took two whole days to get the gunk off his boots. "Have fun."

"Don't be too mean to Barry," Lup said. "I'll be back in a bit."

Don't be too mean to the floating red ghost that is reanimating you a new body. Right. Sure. Lup disappeared in a flash of flames and Taako and Barry stared at each other for a second before Taako turned away again.

It's not like they didn't get along, it was just... weird. Awkward. It had been bad enough having Lup speak in static but as soon as they found Barry, that's pretty much what all conversations turned into. Taako kind of felt like he was third-wheeling.

Actually, scratch that, he was definitely third-wheeling. He wanted to know where the fuck Lup knew this guy from but apparently, the truth would "break his brain" or some bullshit like that.

Still, he felt like he was missing a chapter or two. Or maybe the whole book. Taako didn't know this guy from Adam, but Lup was like- in love with him? It was obvious he was in love with Lup, at least. And it's not like he was gonna talk about it because when he brought it up to the two of them, they tried to pretend like there wasn't some sort of romance happening. Except that he had known Lup his whole life, so she obviously couldn't lie to him, and Barry-

Barry was awkward and weird. He gave off the distinct air that he knew Taako, though he couldn't say from where and they both explained it away with "big fish" and "Lucretia." Taako didn't know a Lucretia. All he knew is that 1) his sister was dead and 2) this guy was a huge fucking nerd.

"So, uh," Barry said. "Nice weather we're having."

"No," Taako said.

"Y- yeah, alright," Barry said. Taako turned, setting his Stone aside.

"Listen, my man," Taako said. "Explain to me the situation to me one more time."

"Well, uh." Barry cleared his non-existent throat. "Which part exactly?"

"The "you and Lup" part," Taako said.

"That's a- a pretty big part, d'you wanna narrow it down a little, or-"

"Barry," Taako said. "You- you and Lup can not tell me stuff or speak in TV static or whatever, but I'm gonna give it to you straight: I have seen how you look at my sister." Barry spluttered. "Like I might be dumb, but I'm not that dumb. My intelligence modifier could be in the negatives and I would still know."

"I mean-"

"Barryyy," Taako said. "The truth, Barry."

"I just, like-"

"Barry," Taako said again. "D'you want me to do a perception check, because I will-"

"We just figured that it'd be easier to, uh, not tell you yet?" Barry said. "Like, obviously this whole situation is gonna be kinda weird for you but Lup and me being ma- ...interested in each other isn't gonna help you any. So we just kinda- we kinda wanted to-"

"Why the fuck would you think that you two being in love is the worst thing to tell me right now," Taako said, slamming his hands on the ground. Barry's form jumped. "I saw Lup fucking die and I'm watching her body grow in a goddamn Nickelodeon slime tank, like- that is not the worst thing to happen to me in the past few weeks. I could literally not care less."

"We didn't want to overwhelm you," Barry said weakly.

"Well I'm pretty overwhelmed, so you might as well!" Taako said. Barry looked like he wanted to say something at that, but just kind of floated aimlessly in place. Taako sat back against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest. He took a deep breath.

"Can I, uhm... help explain anything to you?" Barry said. "To make it, uhm, less overwhelming."

Taako sighed. Yeah, there were lots of things he'd like an explanation on. Why did Lup turn into a ghost? Why wasn't he able to understand the static? Why did he feel like he could trust Barry even though they only just met? Did they meet before, actually? Is that where Lup knew him from? If so, why didn't Taako remember? Exactly how much Fantasy Ibuprofen did he need to take to get rid of the headache that he has had for the past three whole weeks?

"Yeah, I've got a question," Taako said, sitting up.

"Yeah?" Barry said.

"Yeah," Taako said. "I gotta know what you look like because like, no offense, but Lup tends to pick out fucking weirdos, and the only person I can picture when thinking about you is Tom Arnold."

[dollslayer]

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Bo Sinclair x Female Reader

THIS is a NONCON fic. Please don't read and then get shocked at what you read. You are reading this at your own risk! You cannot get shocked at the content here if you are sensitive to NONCON and read anyways. I am not responsible if you choose to still read this and it's upsetting. Also, there is Forced Breeding included! Read at your own risk.

When I get an AO3, I will be posting this there.

Underthecut - NSFW, NON-CON, Cheating -forced- Oral -Female receiving- Forced Breeding/Forced pregnancy, Degradation. Tagged as Dark Fic

Sinclair Brothers College AU Part 2 Part 1 is here!

Bo will never forget that morning. Never forgot your angelic face buried into his brother's chest, Vincent's face buried into the top of your head, nose nuzzled into your hair.

His voice had hurt for the three days after all the screaming he had done, his knuckles bruised for weeks after he and Vincent drew blows.

He could still hear your screaming, this shrill piercing scream for him to stop. To stop hurting him, to stop hurting Vincent.

Not one scream for him, his well-being.

Bo left the room with a bruised lip and ego.

The image of you comforting Vincent, rubbing his knuckles, kissing his cheek burned in his head. He replayed it over and over.

Bo couldn't get over how everyone seemed to approve of the whole ordeal.

That friend of yours had come running up to you, congratulating you on finally getting with Vincent. Even her tall British boyfriend paid a compliment.

His own friends even poked fun, how stupid he was not to see Vincent slowly making his moves. Vincent and you at the Dairy Queen, you at his art show, how both of you spent hours at the library.

How'd he miss all that?

Bo walked into his dorm, slamming the door behind him as he whipped off his hat, he frowned as he flopped onto the bed. back against the wall as he took in the room.

The large varnished bricks painted a light blue, years of new coats of paint chipping off in the corners. The yellow fluorescent light struggling to light up the room, no doubt the same light from when the dorm was built.

Bo took in his brother's side. Neat, save for a few books littered around, a few on his desk, three on the floor, two on the bed, and Y/n's cellphone.

Bo shot up, eagerly rushing over to Vincent's bed, hands immediately on your phone. He held it in his hands, smirking at the pink phone case with a bear's face on the back. He swiped his thumb over the screen, he grits his teeth at the image of you and Vincent on your home screen. Vincent held his arm around you as he kissed your cheek.

"Putz," he mumbled to himself, Bo's thumb lingered over your lock screen. He pressed in the four numbers, "Shit. She must have changed it." Bo looked up, going over what your new passcode could be. The old one was the date you and him started dating. Bo made sure it was that, and that way he had access to your phone whenever you were careless enough to leave it about.

Bo smiled as he knew what the passcode was. If his brother was anything like him, he'd be just as possessive, "Ding!" Bo tapped his foot in excitement as your phone opened up, he went right to your gallery, brows turned down in disgust.

Picture after picture of you and Vincent. Some tame, others, Bo whistled at the picture of you sucking off Vincent. He hated it, seeing your pretty little face lavish his brother's cock, but for Bo, it was easy just to picture his own in its place.

Another photo, you with your legs spread, hand over your mouth, embarrassed as your pussy was covered in Vincent's seed.

Bo groaned, "Little fuckin' whore." He pressed his feet into the ground, steadying himself. He was taken back to when he'd do the same to you, make you beg for his cum to coat your needy pussy. He licked his lips as he could hear your little whines and begs.

"Cum on my pussy, Bo." Fuck and you sounded so perfect.

"Cum on my pussy, Vinny." He cursed as your voice played over in his head. Hating how easily he could hear your sweet voice be so dirty for his brother.

Bo kept scrolling, his stomach churned, cock-stiffening as he scanned more and more pictures.

Videos, ranging from thirty seconds to two minutes in length. He pressed one, the image of you riding his brother played immediately.

"Oh, Vinny, your cocks making me feel so full." Bo groaned, he turned up the volume to hear the vulgar slaps of your ass against his brother's pelvis. "Oh, Fuck Vinny." Bo watched as you fell onto Vincent's chest as he lifted you, fucking up into you at a fast pace.

Bo watched till the end, his ears burning as your moans and whimpers wafted through the shitty phone speaker. He palmed his erection as he watched Vincent cum deep in you, his brother's disgusting grunts and growls had him snarling.

Bo's eyes remained on the screen. They widened as Vincent pulled out, carelessly spreading your legs open to the camera, both your face and Vincent are not visible, but your pussy was bared. He watches as his brother's seed leaked out of you, hearing Vincent mumbling at what a good little princess you are, how you were made to used, made to be a good little cum dump.

Bo shook, knuckles going white as he held the phone. Your whimpering approval of Vincent's words, how Vincent scooped his cum back up into you...

Bo snapped out of his anger as a text popped up,

-Hey, meet you at the library, I'll only be able to study briefly, I have a surprise shift at the hospital.-

Bo tapped it, immediately taken to your messages with Dan.

Everything between you and Dan was mundane. Study dates that often included Herbert and just random memes.

He exited out, looking over all the people you've been texting. Your texts with him deleted, he huffed as he continued. That girl dating the tall British guy. That weird Billy kid, Freddy, your mom, your boss, and Vincent.

He sat down on his bed as he went through the texts. Some of the texts were mundane, how are you, I'm good. I love you and can't wait to see you.

Bo froze, laughing to himself, leaning back onto the bed as he read the recent texts,

-Remember those awful cramps I've been having? My doctor said it was birth control. I'll be going off it for a few weeks and will be getting that Implanon thing.-

Bo checked the date, "Two weeks ago." he said to himself as he kept reading.

-So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month.-

-That's okay. We can keep it safe for now. One day though you'll be off that stuff ;)-

Bo shook his head, of course, his brother would be on that train of thought. Getting you pregnant. Watching your belly grow with babe.

Bo seethed, hand running down his front, cock pulsing at the image of you, begging for his cum, asking him to impregnate you. Your belly swelling with the Sinclair seed, his large hand rubbing over you, kissing your cheek, amazed at the changes in your body.

Your tits swelling, begging for Bo to ease the ache in them. Cock stiffening as he suckles on your tender tits.

Bo's attention was snapped back to reality as the door's handle justled. He quickly exited out of the texts, turned off the screen, and threw the phone on the bed, burying his face into his pillow, grunting as his cock angled into the bed painfully.

Vincent stepped in, sneering at his brother. "She forgot something, I won't be long." He mumbled, hand going for your phone.

"Y'her lap dog or some? She can't come get it herself?"

"I don't trust you alone with her." Vincent gave your phone a once over before grabbing a few books, "I'll be gone tonight, I work late, so you can invite that 'cute' girl from the bar." Vincent coughed as he finished his sentence.

"Yeah, yeah..." Bo eyed his brother, pulling his pillow closer into his face.

"You didn't touch this, did you?" Vincent waved the phone around, giving it a once over.

"Why would I touch her shit?"

Vincent shrugged his shoulders, "Bye," He opened the door, "Oh, and Lester is inviting us to a barbeque, he expects you to be there."

Bo flinched as his brother slammed the door. He sat up, freeing his cock, the images of you and Vincent still in his mind, the image of himself pushing Vincent away to replace Vincent's seed with his own...

"The library..." he said to himself, the image of you at the library, pushed over onto one of the corner desks, hidden away from everyone, his cock buried deep inside, pleading with him to cum inside.

Bo gripped the base of his cock, squeezing to let more of his precum drip out, watching as it fell along the side.

"That'd look a lot better in the place it belongs."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Vincent stood in front of the campus library, he ran his hands up and down your sides, pinching your ass when he dipped low.

"Vinny!" He playfully pinched his arm, kissing his cheek as you giggled.

"Can't help it, you're so cute." He kissed you again, tongue wrapping around yours, he pushed you closer into himself, your moan being suppressed by the kiss.

You reluctantly pulled away, "I gotta meet Dan. I need his help with my paper. Thanks for getting my phone."

Vincent nodded at you, kissing your cheek again, "I know, I don't want you near him, either."

You nod into his chest, inhaling his scent, linseed oil, and his farmer's market shampoo. You hum as he begins to sway you back and forth.

"I gotta go, see you tomorrow," He pulls away, hand rubbing over your cheek, his eye taking in your sad ones. "Be safe getting home."

"I will!" You shared a kiss goodbye as you excitedly entered the library.

You waved to norman at the front desk, he briefly looked up to give a small smile before returning to his large ornithology book on his desk.

You grinned and waved as you caught sight of Dan. He was in his scrubs with his Starbucks in his hand, smiling at you.

"I can help you for the next hour before I gotta go," He began as you sat in front of him, "Then I got my shift an-"

"Yes at the hospital, I know I know." You sat and opened your books, Dan grabbing one to flip through it, scanning for the important passage,

"Here, you'll want to start here, copy it, and then grab two more sources from the encyclopedias. Has to be from the books, not online."

You rubbed your temples, "Yeah, that's, a lot to take in."

Dan chuckled, "That's the advanced course for you."

You tapped your pencil on the paper of your books, "So, you hear about Brahms and his girl? The fight they had!"

Dan perked up, brown eyes filled with wonder.

The two of you immediately filled your time with gossip, the mention of Brahms's girlfriend and Billy was the only thing being studied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bo strolled up to the library, "Twenty minutes to closing..." He shrugged his shoulders as he entered.

He looks around, the lights dimmed, the desk lamps off, save for the few remaining students.

"Can I help you?" Bo snapped his head to the thin, pale man at the front desk.

"Ah, yeah, where are the books on, like art and stuff," Bo looked at the nameplate, "Norman." Bo fumbled with his hands in his pockets.

"In the back," Norman gestured his head behind him, "In section eight hundred to eight hundred and fifty. Don't be long, we are closing soon." Norman sneered as he shuffled the papers on his desk.

"Yeah, thanks." Bo shook his head, as he caught Norman giving him a once over.

Bo clenched his fists as he heard Norman mumble "I don't even think he can read."

He made his way around the library, ducking behind the rows when he thought he saw you, any girl that resembled you had his heart clench in shock.

"No, Vinny, I can't talk right now, text it to me instead." Bo froze, his feet heavy, your voice was curt, he heard you grunt, knowing you just hung up on his brother.

Bo followed the voice, finding you tucked away in the private study area, the tables up against the walls, the lights were severely dimmed, Bo wondered how in the hell you could see the paper in front of you.

He carefully watched his steps, inching slowly behind you, grateful you were distracted in the book, grateful you secluded yourself so far away from everyone else.

A wolfish grin spread over his face, standing over you, he leaned in, hands snaking over you, rushing to silence your mouth,

"Hey, Sweets, miss me?"

Your blood went cold, eyes bulged, you attempted to turn but Bo held firm.

"Miss me? Huh? Ah, maybe you need to look at me first." He whispered into your ear, placing a feather-light kiss.

You retched away, guttural noises being silenced as Bo put a hand around your neck.

"Ah, no no, c'mon now, that any way to react to me? C'mon sweets, you used to beg me, beg me not to leave you, cry whenever I missed a date, moan for my cock to make you come." He chuckled as you squirmed in his arms, the chuckle turning into a soft laugh as you reached for your phone.

"Grabbing your phone for me? How nice of you, Sweets!" Bo whipped you around, slamming you onto the table as he chucked away the books, thankful they didn't fall onto the floor.

You began kicking at Bo, the panic making your blood run hot, giving you a surge of strength.

You knew Bo, knew how much stronger he was, knew you couldn't fight him off. The look in his eyes as his body leaned forward onto yours, chuckling off your kicks.

"Ah, hey, calm down," Bo squeezed on your neck, kissing your cheek as you sputtered out a whine, choking as you gasped for air.

Bo grabbed your phone, your eyes burning as he easily tapped the four-digit code to open it, he went right to the gallery, opening up the video of you and Vincent, "Look at you," The video played, Bo held the phone to your face, forcing you to look, "Taking my brother's cum in your slutty little pussy. Fuck what a good whore you are."

He exited out of the video, going to your texts, "So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month." He read aloud as he shook his head, "tsk tsk, and I bet you are still fucking, even when it's not safe. I mean, if my brother's anything like me, he won't wanna wrap that shit up."

Tears pooled in your eyes, slowly falling along the sides into your hair. Your eyes pleading with him, 'don't do this, please.'

Bo huffed as he pulled down your skirt, panties coming along with it. He took in your pussy, licking his bottom lip as he caught a glance at your shaved pussy, thankful that his brother has the same taste as him. "You look so good, that pussy nice and clean for me, gonna look good with my seed spilling out."

"I'll let you breathe properly if you promise to be quiet, can you do that for me?" His baby blues stared into your eyes, you wanted to hurl as you saw a sick softness to them.

"I'll, b-be- go-good." You choked. You gasped in sweet relief as bo removed his large hand from your neck. Your phone in his hand was held to your face as you realized he was filming.

"You better open up these legs for me, little whore like you should be used to spreading her legs, hm? Taking my brother's cock while dating me. Well, you can have my cock again, and I'm gonna make sure you'll never fucking forget this. Like I'll never fuckin' forget waking up to you." Bo placed the phone down, propping it up against your books, "With cum dripping out your pussy in Vincent's arms."

You looked away as you heard Bo's belt clink his zipper coming undone, "I can easily scream,"

"Scream? ha, the place is practically empty at this point, who's gonna come as you scream? 'Norman' I can tell he's already too self-absorbed to care for another." Bo leaned down, his breath hot over your cunt.

"Please don't, Bo please, I'll do anything!"

His signature cocky grin spread over his lips, "Oh, you will, first, I get a taste of this," He plunged his tongue in, a soft moan as your taste hit his tongue, his eyes looking up at you, then to the phone.

You squirmed as your walls involuntarily pulsed around his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut, hips shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit.

"You taste so good, fuck better than I remember," He sucked hard, laughing as you whimpered. "See, little slutty body like your can't help but react."

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, Bo's large hand roaming your body, dipping under your shirt, sliding under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Fuck it feels good too, remember how you used to beg me to suck on them?" He pinched your hardening nipple, "Look at the camera." He cooed.

He dipped two fingers into your heat, making you groan as he pressed down and sucked hard on your clit.

You breathed heavily through your nose, fighting the urge to let out a wanton moan. Tears flowed as your hips voluntarily bucked into Bo's face, his tongue sending wave after wave of euphoria through you that not even Vincent could manage.

Bo shook his head, a raspy moan muffled by the lewd noises your pussy made as he fingered you. He looked up, smirking into you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, how you covered your mouth to fight back the deep moan.

You ran your hand through Bo's brown hair, he moaned, taking the action as approval for his ministrations. You pushed on him, your airy moans muffled by your palm as you came. Bo stayed latched onto your clit, suckling and flicking it, tongue deep to your cunt to lap at you, groaning as it pulsed around his muscle.

Bo shot up, licking his lips of your cream, "Ah, see that, wanna taste?" You shook your head, mouth a no. He leaned in, one hand angling his cock while the other grabbed your neck.

His tongue wrapped around yours, muffling the whine as he slammed into you, his cock stretching you out, a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Bo wasted no time, slamming hard into you, his cheeks pink as he groaned into the kiss, he lifted his head, "Ah, fuck, needy little pussy fuckin' missed me. Ah shit, I fuck." He grunted above you, his body pressing you into the table, "Fuck, it missed me, fuck it missed me."

You sobbed under him, your mind going to Vincent, trying to picture it was Vincent on top of you, it was you and Vincent making love in the library, not Bo. Not Bo sending waves of familiar pleasure through you, his cock stretching you out.

"Please, don't cum in me, Bo, please don't."

"Wah? cum in you? Sure, I can do that, after all, your little pussy was made for it." He sneered at you, a dark look flashed over him.

You punched at him, "I'll scream."

"You scream and that video gets sent to Vincent. Doesn't matter I'm hav-having m-my way with y-you." He stuttered between thrusts, "Just a video of you getting impregnated by his older brother. He won't want you."

You sobbed as tears spilled as you turned away from him, Vincent flashed in your mind. His smile, his light blue eyes, his hands holding yours.

Your body tensed as Bo's cock felt intoxicating, the familiar rhythm, his harsh kisses, mind being taken back to you on his bed, how he'd hiked your legs over his shoulders as he pushed them onto your chest, a cocky grin as he fucked you deep.

"Bo," You whimpered, "Please," you continued "Just not inside."

He slammed harder, groaning as you clenched around him, "Feels like it wants it inside. Don't lie to yourself, Sweets."

You couldn't, the tears fell, you whimpered Vincent's name, "Hurry, Bo."

Bo couldn't hold back, your sexy little body squirming under him, your pussy clenching around him, your spent leaking onto the table, your stifled moans. "Look at the camera as you cum, look as I cum in you," He turned your head towards the phone, tears freely falling Bo licked your cheek.

His breathing, his thrusts, his cock filling you so well, his raspy praise. You stared, "I'm sorry, Vincent." You scrunched your face as Bo positioned in and out, a low groan reverberated from his chest.

Bo laughed as he came, his seed painting your insides, coating your pink walls, picturing it shooting deep into your womb, his little swimmers getting to work.

You fought back the urge to barf, his cum filling you send a ripple of pleasure through you.

Bo hissed as his breathing slowed, the realization of your nails digging into his shoulders, came to his senses. He slowly pulled out, grabbing the phone, to capture his seed dripping out of your pussy.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing, a threat. He continued to film, "Ah, look at that, good little slut getting bred. Just like she was made too."

Bo brought the camera to your face, "Say, 'Hi, Vincent!' ha" he laughed as you kept your vision off him and the camera.

"it's okay, I know you're thinking of getting that plan B. But you'll be coming with me tonight, I'm gonna make sure my seed takes." Bo released your neck, thumb running over your lips as you coughed.

"Get dressed, we're gonna get a hotel, this is from over." He leaned in to kiss your cheek, "My good girl, mine again." He hugged you as he sent the video to his phone. He laughed as he felt you shake in his arms,

"I wonder what Vincent will do when he sees this, gosh I can only imagine." He hummed and swayed you back and forth, "You'll look great with my child in you, can't wait, ah you'll be so beautiful."

[solarwonux]

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

[hookingminor]

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

-

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

-

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

-

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

-

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

+1

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

[darlingmulti]

Yes, Chef (Chef!Seokjin x Waitress! Y/N)

Description-

You work as a waitress in a crummy restaurant in the middle of hick-ville. One day, a handsome new chef comes in and changes the scenery. Chef Jin is hot and talented and you immediately fall head over heels for him. Despite his good looks, the two of you don't get along. There is never a moment where the two of you don't fight. One night after you clock out, your grabbed, and end up in the back room... pressed against Jin's hot body? Will your fantasy finally become reality?

Pairing- Chef!Seokjin X Waitress!Y/N

Rating- 18+

Word count- 10.3k

Genre- smut, angst, slice of life, romance, fluff, enemies to lovers

Warnings- choking, degradation, teasing, exhibitionism, voyeurism, use of force, fingering, heavy clit play, nipple play, overstimulation, begging, marking, scratching, biting, masturbation, squirting, praise, spanking, groping, tummy bulge, swearing, hate sex

Playlist-

Grind me Down (Jawster Remix) by Jawster, Liliana Wilde

Flesh by Simon Curtis

Eager by AK diorr., BM

Go Fuck yourself by Two Feet

Piano by Max Changmin

Note-

Shoutout to my bestie @evie3511 for beta reading and helping with the summary!

Teaser-

“You were very bad today…” he whispered softly, and as he did his teeth caught hold of the tip of your ear, causing you to gasp and jerk your head away.

“I-I’m sorry?” you whimpered.

“You just keep fighting with me.” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion you couldn’t understand.

“You keep fighting with me,” You replied, chewing your bottom lip. This position wasn’t one you expected to be in with Jin ever, especially after tonight, but here you were, standing caged in his arms against his strong chest.

He dropped his head on your shoulder, and his warm breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to rise up along your skin, “I want you so bad,” He whispered against you, placing a kiss against your neck.

Before you could think you were replying, “I want you too,” the words spilled out much too naturally. You felt anticipation shoot through you as he chuckled against your neck, beginning to litter kisses along your hot skin.

You leaned tiredly against the cooler in the kitchen at work, eyes glued to your phone as you scrolled aimlessly through your instagram feed. Work had been an absolute nightmare today, though slow there were several tiny rushes throughout the day, and just when you thought you could leave one of the servers called in.

The managers had begged you to stay, citing how you were the best server, and they couldn’t possibly do it without you. After agreeing now all you could do was regret it, even if you might make some extra money it just wasn’t really worth it to you with how tired you were… not to mention dealing with people… ew.

“Y/N!!!” Your close friend, Jessie, could be heard squealing from across the kitchen excitedly, running over and grabbing your arm, “Did you hear the news??”

“What news?” You asked curiously, looking up lazily from your phone and raising your eyebrows.

“There’s a new cook!! He’s upstairs right now apparently!” She exclaimed, eyes shining brightly at the prospect of fresh meat. This was a restaurant after all, the majority of employees were female, any man was sized up by all of the girls as soon as he crossed the threshold. You tried your best not to do that, having given up on the prospect of meeting any good guys here. No matter what there was always a prettier server, or the guy had some fatal flaw, sometimes he didn’t even stay for more than a couple weeks.

“Oh wow,” you said, unenthused, your eyes trailing back to your phone screen, thumb poised to resume scrolling.

“I’ve heard he’s suuuuper hot, and- get this, he’s foreign!” She squealed excitedly, jumping up and down like a child.

“Jessie, come on. Why would a foreigner want to come work here? Who told you he was hot??” You asked, looking back up to indulge your dramatic friend.

“I don't know why, but he’s definitely foreign.. Well he apparently lived in Korea for a couple years.” she said thoughtfully, and then looked back to you to answer the next question, “He was here a couple days ago to get shown around, Elaina told me all about him. I guess she got to talk with him a little bit, she said he’s hot.”

Elaina was the restaurant's biggest slut, always finding new guys to screw. If it didn’t work out with one it wasn’t a problem, there was always another one. It was no surprise she had gotten to talking with the new guy, she would probably hop on his dick as soon as he walked through the d-

Your brain seemed to malfunction as you heard the kitchen door opening and looked up to see one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen in your entire life walk into the kitchen.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was, the second was his insane body proportions. His shoulders were broad and strong, while his waist was kind of small and tapered. His eyes were chocolatey brown, wide and shining, they had a mischievous glint in them. His skin was incredibly clear and a gorgeous golden brown that you had never seen on any of the boys in this nasty town. It was about ninety-nine percent hick country, so seeing a man like this in person was a dream come true.

His hair was pure black and shining, but he quickly covered it with a chef's hat. He was wearing the regular chefs outfit, black jeans and a loose fitting black chefs coat, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing firm and strong forearms that flexed as he followed one of the other cooks behind the line. He didn’t look nervous in the slightest, in fact he exuded confidence.

“Hey!” Jessie whispered and elbowed you rather hard in the ribs, bringing you back to reality and sending your phone flying out of your hands and onto the floor.

“Seriously!” you exclaimed, trying to act natural as you walked a couple feet to get your phone, glaring at Jessie who was watching you with knowing eyes.

“You were staring so hard dude, your mouth was wide open too!” She giggled and you glanced back at the man who had just come in, grateful he hadn’t seemed to notice you and Jessie just yet.

You shoved her irritably, “Shut up!” you muttered. You turned briskly to walk out of the kitchen, wanting to get away from her teasing and from the handsome man. Your face was getting hot the more you replayed seeing him.

He had plump lips, high cheekbones, a defined nose bridge, strong eyebrows, he was literally perfect.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” one of your coworkers said as you grabbed a cup absently, wanting to drink some water.

“Oh?” you said absently, acting confused by the statement. You scanned the restaurant. There was only one table in the whole place right now, the rest of the crew would be here any moment, and you were looking at a hopefully busy Saturday evening.

You finished filling your cup and began sipping from it thoughtfully, your mind still on that perfect man. What was his name? What was he like? What did he look like under those loose chefs clothes?

“Excuse me,” you heard a soft, unfamiliar voice say behind you.

You looked up and behind you and could barely contain your shock. That perfect man was inches away from you, locking eyes with you. You wanted to look into them forever, but you thankfully had the sense to pull your eyes away, “Ah, sorry.” You apologized quickly, stepping to the side to let him get to the water gun.

“It’s alright, I’m Jin,” he introduced, holding out his large and gorgeous hand to shake. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins stuck out slightly on the backs of his hands, his nails were trimmed and clean too.

You stared at his hand for one second too long, causing him to raise an eyebrow but you raised your comparatively small hand to shake his, watching it disappear within his warm hand.

Wow… his skin was so soft. Was this guy really a cook? His forearms were completely unmarred, no burns whatsoever.

“I-I’m Y/N.” You introduced. Your voice came out squeaky and anxious sounding- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you cursed internally. He probably thought you were a baby talking that way.

“Nice to meet you… That’s a pretty name.” He complimented and smiled at you sweetly, making your heart rate pick up. This man was dazzling! You couldn’t help but think it should be illegal to look this good.

“Thanks!” you said, sounding weird even in your own ears, you should get away before you embarrass yourself further, but he was standing right here looking at you, it would be a waste to walk away now.

“Is Jin short for something?” you asked, feeling dumb as the words left your lips.

“My full name is Kim Seokjin, well it’s Seokjin Kim here.” he corrected, “But I go by Jin since it’s easier for everyone,” he chuckled softly at your dumbfounded expression.

“O-oh, that’s cool.” you stuttered out, “So… that’s korean?” you questioned. That’s right, you encouraged yourself, keep the ball rolling.

He nodded affirmatively, “I was born there.” he stated.

“Oh that’s cool! Why are you all the way over here, then?” you asked.

“My parents have been out here a couple years now, they’re getting older, figured I should come live around here and take care of them. I saw an ad online for a sous chef position so I figured I would apply.”

“Well… that’s nice of you.. I’m uh- glad you’re here.” you said, and smiled what you hoped was a nice smile, and not too awkward.

He snickered and shook his head, “Well thanks!” he said and started to walk back to the kitchen. You were about to follow him when you heard an annoying sing-song voice behind you.

“Hello~~~!! You must be Jin!!”

‘There goes Elaina,’ you thought as her sickly sweet smelling perfume hit your nose as she walked past you. She went up and tapped the large man's shoulder, grinning as she confidently introduced herself.

You sighed and walked away to the counter in the middle of the restaurant, leaning your head dejectedly on your arm. You would give anything to have more time to talk with him… but with all the other girls it would probably be impossible. He certainly wouldn’t pay you much attention once he got a look at all the other damsels that worked here… Even with your lack of hope though, your eyes travelled to your hand where you could still feel the warmth of his wrapped around yours. It couldn’t hurt to dream…

~~~~

The dinner rush was in full swing, you were juggling six tables, the kitchen was backed up with orders, and the restaurant was packed with people, conversations echoing off the walls as the printer at the bar went off almost nonstop. The bartender was cranking out drinks for the servers like crazy.

“Excuse me ma’am, how much longer on my order!” One of your particularly annoying tables called, snapping her fingers at you as you were rushing by with dirty plates to take to the back.

“Not much longer, miss.” you replied hastily and offered an apologetic smile.

“Can you check? Did you even put it in?”

“Of course I can! So sorry, miss!” you said and smiled before turning away, your expression dropping immediately. What did she think you were doing carrying all these dirty plates? Of course you would check if you were going in the kitchen, that was literally just common sense.

You came back into the kitchen, briskly kicking the door open and setting the plates down before striding down to the ticket line where the expo was plating whatever food he could and shouting at the cooks for more fries.

Jin was sauteeing something and the other two cooks were hard at work on the grill, fryers, and salad station. Jin’s expertise was obvious, even in a new environment he was shining.

“Hey how long on this ticket,” you muttered to the expo. You wished you could stare at Jin all night long, but you had customers to please, and besides you had already given up on your fantasies about him. The most your relationship would amount to would be casual friendship, if even that.

Yours was actually second in the line and as the expo looked it over, he realized only one thing was missing and it was actually on Jin’s side.

“Hey Jin, do you have the tostadas coming?” He called.

“Tostadas?” Jin called back, looking up in confusion at the expo, his brow was furrowed and sweat was dripping down his temples. Fuck. How could you focus on anything with him being THAT fine. Some of the other servers had come in to pine over the line and agonize over how hot the new chef was.

Yet even his hotness couldn’t distract as he said, “I don’t have a ticket for that.” and turned around flippantly.

“What do you mean?” The expo called, grabbing the ticket and pushing it across the shelf for Jin, who turned around to take it, looking it over intently.

“I made that already.” he argued, and pushed the ticket back at the expo, again turning away to continue his sautee job. You could feel your blood beginning to boil, and there was the fatal flaw. He might be a good cook, but he had a shitty attitude.

“Well we don’t have it!” You interrupted loudly, “I need tostadas ASAP!”

“Are you the expo?” He asked calmly, cocking an eyebrow at you. Ugh, he was so hot even being as big of a dick as he was being.

‘Don’t get sidetracked, you have a job to do,’ you thought to yourself.

“No, but who cares? Make me my tostadas!”

Jin rolled his eyes and pointedly turned away as the expo finished the first order and called out tiredly, “Jin can you please make me an order for tostadas ASAP?”

“Of course I can,” he said and glared at you before turning back around to continue.

“Glad to know we have another asshole cook on the team!” You called childishly, making the other waitresses gasp. You went back out on the floor without a care to go deal with the rest of your tables, and reassure your woman that her food was in fact coming up. This wasn’t going to be fun.

~~~~

The night had finally slowed to a stop and you were getting ready to leave for the evening, printing your reports and organizing all of your checks at a table. As you were sitting you heard a voice coming from around the wall between the booth and the server station, and paused at the sound of your name.

“She’s always like that, you’re not an asshole.” Elaina was saying, her voice that annoying, honey sweet tone she took with men she was trying to impress.

“I won’t let any servers walk all over me,” Jin was heard saying, sounding nonchalant.

“Oh of course not!! You shouldn’t!! She’s a bitch because she’s jealous. She has always been the le-”

“Sorry, but I’m not here to gossip or talk crap. Thank you for the encouragement though,” Jin could be heard cutting her off, before you heard the door to the kitchen creak open as he walked away from her. You sighed and rolled your eyes, at least Elaina’s plan to use you as a tool to get with him didn’t work.

You were certainly bitchy earlier, that you would admit, but he didn’t help the situation either acting the way he did. You finished doing your report and slid out of the booth tiredly, it didn’t matter, tomorrow was another day…

~~~~

Situations like the one that night seemed to happen all too frequently between you and Jin despite your best efforts. You really didn’t want to fight with him, he was unbearably attractive, smart, a good cook, and his voice was like silk, yet every night seemed to be a new battle.

First it was french fries taking too long, next it was the steak being overcooked, and the next it was an item rang in wrong, it was all trivial but it just seemed to add up. Everyday you saw him it became more and more tense between you two, you hated it, because despite all of that you were crushing on him. Not only was he hot, but he could be incredibly sweet at times. Plus he was so cute, and his jokes were hilarious. He never told them to you, but every time you heard them you couldn’t help but giggle at the stupidity of them.

Your work day was starting off shitty, as was normal. Jin hadn’t said hello to you when you came in, two servers called off, and the restaurant was in shambles when you arrived. Not to mention it was eighty-five degrees outside, you hadn’t slept well, and you had had a large fight with your parents before leaving for work.

It was a dumb fight,just more nagging from them about your life. It seemed like nothing you did was good enough. You were trying your best... At times you just felt like you were fighting an uphill battle. Today you had no energy to fight with Jin, and you certainly weren’t prepared for the dinner rush.

It was the wing bar that night. The crowd came in a tidal wave of people, more than you or any of your coworkers had expected or been prepared for and within the first hour you were so swamped you didn’t know what to do. You simply couldn’t keep up with everything that was happening.

Food, checks, orders, tables, greeting, running, pre-bussing, it was all too much for you, especially with the heat and the tiredness. Food was coming out at a decent rate thankfully, but one table just simply could not be satisfied.

You were feeling worse and worse as the time ticked by, and had no fight left in you to deal with difficult entitled customers, but duty called.

“Ma’am, ma’am come here!” You heard and couldn’t help but sigh at the familiar obnoxious voice. You knew this table would be a problem when they had first complained about the bugs outside, and then returned a drink because it ‘definitely wasn’t made right’, what could it possibly be now?

You turned around hesitantly and put on your best invested, and apologetic smile, their food had been dropped by the runner probably a couple minutes ago now, all mostly wings.

“What can I do for you?” You asked, faking sweetness while inside you were cursing at this nasty woman and her teenagers.

“I don’t know what kind of restaurant this is, but the food and the service here is just unacceptable.”

“I’m… sorry?” You said, unable to hide how taken aback you were. What was she even talking about?

“First of all, this is cold!” she pushed her ribs away in disgust, “These wings are cold, everything is COLD! Second, this place is filthy and obviously not being run properly. Look at you! You can’t seem to get it together for the life of you, and you should take something for all that sweating you’re doing. This has been horrendous!!” She exclaimed again and leaned back with a huff, arms crossing over her chest.

You weren’t sure what to say. Usually, you would offer to have the food remade but it didn’t feel worth it to you. You could feel your eyes growing hot and your hands were balling up, “I’m so sorry. I’ll go get my manager.” You said and walked away briskly, even as she shouted for you to come back. A few of your other tables looked at you sympathetically as you went inside and beelined to the kitchen, feeling frustration as your tears spilled over freely as soon as the door opened.

“M-Miles!” You stuttered out meekly at your manager who was currently helping expo, he immediately looked up hearing your weak voice, eyes widening.

“Y/n, what happened?”

“M-my table is r-really upset right now and I- I think you should go talk to them,” you said, barely managing to get out your words as you felt tiny sobs going through you. You were so tired of everything right now. It was one thing to have a table yell about food, but to also insult you in front of your face was painful and humiliating.

“About what? Which table?” he prodded, rubbing your arm in an attempt to comfort you.

“Table eighty three,” you sniffled, “She said that, that the food was cold and that I was terrible and yeah… just please go out there.”

“Okay, okay, just take a breather, drink some water.” He said and quickly stepped out to go and talk with the furious table.

You groaned and wiped at your face, feeling your embarrassment only growing as Jin came from behind the line with a water bottle, “Come here,” he ordered and placed a hand on the small of your back while handing you the water bottle and leading you to the walk in cooler.

You didn’t even have enough sense to question why he was being nice to you, your head was pounding and you were overly aware of how hot and wet you were. Not to mention you were pretty much sobbing right now, despite your best efforts to hold it together.

“Drink the water,” He said calmly as he opened the cooler and led you inside, the feeling of cold air against your body was an intense relief, it helped you physically, but you were still reeling over everything. Even now you felt like you needed to run and take care of all of the tables you weren’t at right now. The rush was close to done but it was still upon you.

You did as you were told though, breaking the seal and sipping from it. As soon as the cool liquid touched your lips you realized how thirsty you were and drank from it messily, closing your eyes and leaning your head back, hearing the bottle crinkle up as you took in every last drop of it before your hand fell to your side. You used your free hand to wipe at your face, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Better?” Jin asked, leaning against one of the shelves with an almost amused expression.

You had forgotten he was standing there watching you and your eyes flitted away from his face just as soon as they had gone there. You nodded quietly, chewing your lip, trying to calm your racing heart. It was amazing what the cold and water could do for you, you thought.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he chastised, moving closer and rather suddenly reaching out and cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand. You looked up, dumbfounded. One hand subconsciously came up to touch his arm while your hand holding the water bottle crinkled it loudly. “You’re obviously having a hard time, and you aren’t drinking enough water… no matter how busy it is you come first.”

You nodded quietly, still unsure of what to do about his hand.

“I didn’t bother you today right?” he asked, leaning ever so slightly closer, you could make out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes at this angle, and his skin was flawless.

“N-no,” you squeaked out.

“I notice a lot more than you think I do…” he said, and you bit your lip feeling his hand fall carelessly against your side, fitting against you almost too well. You felt a tingle in your breasts, and just knew that if you were to look now both nipples would be hard and pressing against your bra. You were grateful you wore a padded one today.

“L-like what?”

“I knew you were upset as soon as you walked in.”

“Oh…?”

He brought his thumb gently across your lips, “These pretty lips were frowning, and those eyes barely even looked at me…” he whispered. You could clearly hear your heart pounding in your ears. What was happening right now?

“You were much too quiet… if you ever have any problems I’m always willing to help you out.”

You gasped as he tilted your head up to look into his eyes, “Do you got that?”

You nodded dumbly, biting the inside of your lip as your eyes moved down to his plush lips, appreciating the smoothness of his face. You really wanted to reach up to touch it, maybe it wouldn’t hu-

“Chef!”

The two of you jumped apart and you immediately turned and grabbed your forehead, acting miserable.

“Yes?” He asked. His voice was icy as he turned around to face Elaina, who was standing in the doorway looking slightly confused and frazzled.

“Sorry to interrupt… They need you back on the line. The others can’t keep up.” She said.

He nodded and looked back at you, “You all right?”

You nodded quickly, not feeling confident enough to speak.

“Come out when you’re ready.” He said and walked out, shutting the cooler behind him.

You let out a soft gasp of air that you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your whole body zinging with energy… if he could make you feel this way with such a simple touch, imagine how he could make you feel…

You shook your head quickly, ridding yourself of those thoughts. He was just being nice, that was it. It was never going to happen.

You spent a couple more minutes inside, calming down before you finally stepped out to finish the evening off right.

~~~~

A couple days later, and you were still thinking about that night in the cooler. You replayed it in your head multiple times during the day. Whenever you masturbated you thought heavily of him inside you, of his eyes boring into yours, of his honey sweet voice in your ear whispering your name.

You thought about Jin for at least seventy five percent of your days, even when you were off all you could think of was him.

“Y/N, you have a table at thirty three.”

You immediately snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at the host before leaving the kitchen to get the table started. It was slow today, besides Jin there was one other cook working. It was supposed to be an easy table- that was until they complained about the menu, and then basically tried to modify something into a completely new thing. You did your best to be polite and said you would ask the chef about accommodating them. You walked in nervously, and called out, “Hey, Jin?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking up from the sandwich he was cutting in half.

You shyly listed off the modifications, and he stared at you with an annoyed expression, cocking an eyebrow as you finished, “Are you actually serious?”

You nodded slowly. His attitude was getting you angry already.

“Well, first of all we don’t have cucumbers, you know that. Second, we don’t have seasoning to blacken a fucking salmon, you also know that. Third, I can’t even respond to the rest because it’s honestly not worth my time. Use your brain,” He said flippantly.

How was he the same person as the one in the cooler that time?

What was his problem?

“Are you done now?” You asked, immediately catching an attitude. Just because he was hot didn’t mean he could talk to you like that.

“Excuse me?” He asked, looking up through his gorgeous lashes dangerously.

“Are you done being a dick? I’m just doing my job, which is to satisfy my customers. Your job is to answer my questions, not give me snobby replies and act like a prick.”

“My job is to cook food, not cater to your needs. Quit wasting my time, and go take care of your idiot table.” he ordered.

“Will you make my order?”

“Is it going to have stupid modifications that I can’t fulfill, if so, then no. If you’re going to keep being a bitch then I also won’t be making your order. Quit wasting your time.”

You huffed angrily, and the two of you began going back and forth insulting each other, growing louder and louder until your manager came in to calm the situation and split you guys up. You huffed angrily, cheeks red, and practically ran from the kitchen to ring in your ridiculous and ‘stupid’ order. Now you didn’t care if they couldn’t do it. They would do it.

~~~~~

The rest of the evening after the fight was tense, and you were grateful that when you left Jin was nowhere to be seen. In the end, they had made the order almost perfectly, and the table left happily so you supposed that was all that mattered.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the fight though, you had both said some pretty bad things. You wondered if you guys could ever really get along.

You were walking quietly down the empty employee halls heading to the clock out, it was late since you had got stuck doing extra side work, so everyone had mostly gone home for the night.

You were mid sigh when you felt a large hand clasp over your mouth while a strong arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into one of the side boiler rooms, causing a muffled shriek to leave your lips as the person kicked the door open and you heard a familiar silky voice say, “Shh, behave.”

You froze and blinked, looking around the low lit and frankly dirty room. There were a couple machines running that were always on, running the building, resonating with a persistent hum.

You struggled violently to get out of Jin’s strong grip but he only held tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm, hand firmly over your mouth until you finally gave up with an indignant groan. You knew it was Jin, but that was it. Your stomach was churning with anxiety and anticipation as he held you tightly in his grasp against his hot body. Your head at his chest.

“Are you done?” he whispered coolly against your ear, his tone slightly mocking.

You shuddered and nodded.

“I’m gonna move my hand, if you scream you’ll really be sorry.” he threatened.

Did you have a reason to scream? You wondered.

Sure Jin was being strange, but there was nothing to be worried about… right?

As his hand slid away you quickly asked, “What are you doing?”

He was silent for a while, wrapping his now free arm tightly around you in an iron like bind. Both of his arms were pressing against your chest, and you could feel your heart racing against your rib cage the longer he stood silently holding you.

“You were very bad today…” he whispered softly, and as he did his teeth caught hold of the tip of your ear, causing you to gasp and jerk your head away.

“I-I’m sorry?” you whimpered.

“You just keep fighting with me.” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion you couldn’t understand.

“You keep fighting with me,” You replied, chewing your bottom lip. This position wasn’t one you expected to be in with Jin ever, especially after tonight, but here you were, standing caged in his arms against his strong chest.

He dropped his head on your shoulder, and his warm breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to rise up along your skin, “I want you so bad,” He whispered against you, placing a kiss against your neck.

Before you could think you were replying, “I want you too,” the words spilled out much too naturally. You felt anticipation shoot through you as he chuckled against your neck, beginning to litter kisses along your hot skin.

You tilted your head back to allow better access and then felt a zing of new fear go through you.

No. This was bad. This was very bad you needed to get away. You were literally at work, in a back hall where anyone could just walk in… Maybe had you been somewhere else this would be more appropriate?

“Are you insane?” You gasped, suddenly trying to jerk away again, pulling your head away from his lips.

“Are you?” He asked and pushed one of his arms down around your waist, driving your ass back into his center where you could feel his rising excitement. This couldn't be happening. His other hand easily found purchase on your breasts, groping you over your shirt and bra. You moaned out involuntarily at the friction and then bit your lip to try and quiet yourself.

Were you dreaming?

“That’s right you fucking whore… this is what you wanted all along hm?”

“W-what are you talking about?” you panted. It was embarrassing how you felt right now. You wanted to get away, you wanted to get out right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to struggle… your body would never forgive you for wasting this chance.

“Do you like to tease me?” he asked, and the hand that had been on your breast suddenly was wrapping around your throat as he pushed your head up and back against his shoulder, causing you to squeak as his eyes met yours.

Oh fuck.

You tried to shake your head, but you were totally incompacitated with his hand wrapped around you like this. The hand around your waist slithered up and he began quickly undoing the buttons on your uniform.

You weakly began to struggle, suddenly feeling anxiety shoot through you. You had just finished working, what if you were gross? A sick part of you wanted this, craved it, but the rational part of you was screaming at you to get out of there.

His hand eased on your throat only slightly and you gasped for air, causing him to laugh cruelly before he released your throat and turned you around to face him, his eyes were filled with desire and lust. It caught you so off guard you didn’t even have time to react before he was forcing you against the wall.

“I know you want me.” he said softly, strong arms caging you in on either side.

“I- I don’t know what you’re t-”

He cut you off by aggressively pressing his lips against yours, one hand grabbing your chin while the other began kneading your breast again, making you gasp and moan as his warm lips moved against yours. At first you tried to pull away, to stop the kiss, but his mouth felt so soft and his touch felt so good you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes fluttered closed and one hand came up to grab the arm that was raised against your cheek.

A part of you knew this was wrong, and you knew that a normal person would be afraid of this large man, but you weren’t. You were completely overpowered with lust that had been stewing ever since he had walked through those doors.

Who cared if someone walked in? A part of you wished someone would.

Who cared if you weren’t in pristine condition? He clearly didn’t.

His hands found your legs and you let out a shocked squeak as he lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist while your back leaned against the wall. Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck as well and he smiled down at your shocked expression.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he breathed as his nimble fingers took up unbuttoning your shirt again.

“M-me too,” you stuttered earnestly, already a desperate and needy mess, especially with the slight pressure of him against your core.

“Really,” he said, his voice lowering and one of his eyebrows cocking up in an enthused expression.

You were about to reply, but his hands were suddenly cupping your bra clad chest, squeezing slightly. You moaned embarrassingly, throwing your head back against the wall as he teased you.

“This is pretty,” He commented, his finger trailing down the outside of your lacy bra.

“Th-thanks,” You stuttered.

“Did you wear it hoping I might see it?” He asked, his hands cupping your breasts again as his dark eyes met yours in the halflight.

You remembered all the times you put on your work outfit you would wonder if Jin would like it. You had wondered if his hands would ever move to unclasp your bra and do all the things you could only fantasize about.

You nodded slightly and he smirked, before his hands were coming behind your back and skillfully unclasping the bra. A part of you wondered how many times he had done this before tonight, but you didn’t really care. He was yours for the night, so what did it matter?

As your bra was loosened he easily slid his hands under it to grope you much easier, his large hands cupping them. You pushed your head against the wall, biting your lip to stifle the moans that were bubbling at your lips. His fingers skillfully found your already hard nipples, running back and forth over them. With each touch of his hand arousal shot through your core.

“J-Jin,” you whimpered as he rolled your sensitive buds between his fingers.

“Yes my dear,” he asked, eyes boring into you.

“W-what if someone sees?” You asked, your breath was coming out faster as he began to play more roughly with your nipples, occasionally groping your chest insistently.

“Hmm… then I guess they’ll know how much of a slut you actually are behind that bitchy exterior,” he said. You huffed as he was suddenly attacking your neck again, trailing to bite your shoulder and collarbone, irritably pushing the fabric of your button up aside.

“F-fuck,” you whispered, shuddering as he began sucking on a spot just below your collarbone, hands still working gracefully on your chest. You could feel the growing wetness of your panties, and you were becoming needy. Unfortunately, Jin had no intentions of rushing the time he had with you, taking his time leaving an array of bruises just below your collarbones, hands still groping your chest.

His mouth finally found yours and as you kissed he helped you get your shirt off the rest of the way, and then gently lowered your feet to the ground to remove your bra as well. You kissed him back feverishly as his hands found your hips, holding them within his massive hand as your mouth opened with his, deepening the already sloppy kiss.

One of his hands went back to your breast, flicking over your nipple and making you squeak against his lips. He chuckled and pulled away, licking his lips as he looked at you standing topless before him.

You felt suddenly exposed but you couldn’t think too much as he was suddenly bringing his head down and gripping one of your breasts, guiding his hot mouth to your nipple. You gasped and shuddered at the feeling of his wet tongue against you, practically lying against the wall as he worked his magic on you, teasing your body cruelly.

You let out a startled gasp as he suddenly slapped your ass hard, the sound echoing in the dark room. He continued to squeeze and grope your ass while his mouth trailed from one breast to the other before reconnecting feverishly with your mouth. His fingers finally began to work at undoing your jeans and you lifted your arms again to wrap around his neck as you made out, to distract you as his hand wasted no time in dipping into your pants.

You moaned loudly and dropped your head against his shoulder to muffle the sound as his fingers dragged along your wet panties, finding your clit easily and beginning to move his middle finger in slow circles.

“You’re practically dripping,” he teased, and you let out a low whine as his finger continued to rub your sensitive bud through your panties. Your stomach was twisting and turning with anticipation, and all you wanted was to feel him inside of you already.

“Hurry up and fuck me!” You gasped as his finger pressed harder against you.

“Someone’s impatient,” He laughed, but made no move to do what you had told him. You reached out boldly and began rubbing over the bulge of his cock in his jeans, moving your own hand in slow circles as he did the same to you.

He didn’t stop you, but he did finally dip his hands beneath your panties, splitting the folds of your dripping cunt with his fingers and making your body shudder hard at the feeling. You kept rubbing his cock, but you were forced to stop as you felt a finger slip into your core, causing you to cry out loudly.

As you pulled back your head he pushed you back against the wall hard and reconnected his lips with yours to quiet you. As he began fingering you, his fingers brushed against your g-spot, drawing out mewls of arousal from your lips. You couldn’t even focus on the kiss, your entire being was focused on his fingers slipping in and out of your core.

You blushed hearing the squelching sounds of your wetness as he began fingering you.

“Let’s get these off of you shall we?” He suggested, and you whined as he pushed your jeans and panties down with ease, as soon as they hit the ground his fingers were dragging back against you, making you shudder and cry out.

“Jin!” you moaned as he suddenly was pushing his fingers inside of you again quickly, wasting no time in beginning to pound in and out of you expertly.

“You’d better quiet down before someone hears you princess,” he whispered darkly, not bothering to slow his pace.

You bit down hard on your lip, your hands reaching out to ground yourself on his shoulders, fingers digging into them as your mouth twisted in pleasure and embarrassment. The sound of your wetness was new even to you. Jin suddenly stopped and you whined out loudly, causing him to laugh softly.

“Sit down over here,” he ordered, and pointed to a chair conveniently placed in the corner of the room, probably left there to be thrown away, but instead forgotten.

“W-what if it’s dirty,” you whimpered.

He smiled softly down at you. You had been reduced to nothing more than his toy at this moment, standing naked in front of him, completely at his mercy. You had to say though, you definitely didn’t mind.

He slowly undid his chef’s coat, sliding it off to reveal a tight black tee shirt beneath it and slowly went to the chair, laying it over the bottom of it. In the half light you could see the definition of his muscles and as he turned around you were wrapping your arms around his neck to sloppily kiss him again while his hands wrapped around your waist, kissing you back just as hard as your hands glided to his chest.

He was just as muscular as you had expected.

“Take off your shirt,” you gasped.

He chuckled and pulled away, slowly grabbing the edges of it and sliding it over his head, revealing his toned abs and strong shoulders.

“Holy shit,” you whimpered, your hands coming to touch his pectoral muscles and running down his body, enjoying the ridges of his abs against your fingertips, stopping at his waist band.

“That’s enough now,” he cooed, “Sit down,” he ordered, pushing you slightly towards the chair.

“But what if-”

“Sit. Down.” His voice took on a more authoritative tone and your stomach twisted.

“O-okay,”

“It’s not okay. It’s, ‘Yes, Chef.’” he ordered.

“Y-yes Chef,” you stuttered, sitting down in the chair slowly.

You bit your lip as Jin dropped to his knees in front of you, looking down at him through anxious eyes. You had no idea what he was planning, or what he wanted.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered and you took a deep breath. You hadn’t expected to be this exposed to him at all. His eyes were boring into you hungrily, and you felt anticipation knotting up your stomach as you slowly spread apart your legs, revealing your wet core to him.

You flinched as he let out a shaking breath, “You’re so fucking hot,” he said, “Such a pretty little whore,”

You looked down at him as you felt his fingers coming up to caress your outer thighs, his fingers trailing over your knees and down your calves. Every touch from his nimble fingers was electric. Yet his hands wouldn’t go near your core, and you were growing desperate.

“T-touch me,” you whimpered.

“Hmm,” he sighed softly, and his fingers went higher up your thighs, “Show me how you want me to touch you,” He breathed and you felt a zing of anxious excitement shoot through you. You had never done something so lewd in front of another person, and you weren’t sure if you could.

“W-what do you mean?” You stalled.

“Take your hand,” he ordered, grabbing your wrist and guiding it to your dripping cunt, “And play with yourself while I watch. Show me how you like it.”

You bit your lip, looking down at him through your lashes, he stared up at you lustfully, his eyes sliding down your body to focus on your center.

You closed your eyes, and leaned back against the chair, your fingers sliding slowly between your folds and running over your clit. You brought up your other hand to gently begin playing with your nipple, sliding your finger back and forth as the one between your legs rubbed up and down against your clit, gliding between the folds.

You shuddered feeling his hot breath against your hand, and you chanced a glance to see he had drawn closer, focusing on your hand as it moved.

You slowly drew your finger down to your own entrance, pushing your finger against the entrance, little moans sliding out of your lips as you began to push a finger in, making Jin moan as well as he watched.

“You really are such a little slut,” he teased, and you mewled as you felt two of his fingers against you, beginning to push apart your folds further, examining your most private area with predatory eyes, “Just imagine if someone came in right now,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against you as your finger pushed in further.

His talk was making you more excited and more desperate, you wished someone would come in and see this right now.

“Imagine the look on their face when they see you sitting here, touching your pretty little cunt for me.”

The thought alone was making you more worked up, “Chef,” you whimpered, plunging your fingers faster in and out of yourself, sweat was beading on your forehead and beginning to sheen over your body as you became more and more aroused.

“Yes princess,” He crooned, his fingers sliding up either side of your core, making you more crazy and desperate.

“Mmmm,” you couldn’t even speak as one of his fingers ghosted against your clit as you continued to touch yourself, finger flicking more insistently over your nipple, sending shocks of pleasure through you with each stroke.

“Such a good little whore, all for me,” he praised, beginning to rub your clit in slow circles, making you keen softly, biting your lip hard to try and stop the noises that were begging to spew from your lips.

You were drawing close, your thighs beginning to tremble as you attempted to spread your legs further for him, your hand reaching up to your own throat, squeezing the sides in desperation.

“Choking hm,” he whispered, and you whined as you heard him stand. His hands wrapped around both of your wrists, stopping you from bringing yourself to orgasm.

“L-let go,” you begged, attempting to push your fingers back inside but he pulled them out instead, laying your hand on your thigh while he took the hand around your throat and also set that on your thigh.

“I bet I can make you cum twice as hard as you can yourself,” he whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. You felt his hands slip down against your core before pushing inside of you once again, this time with a vengeance.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, and he quickly pressed his lips against yours to stifle you as he began to curl his fingers expertly inside of you. He rubbed that sensitive area with vigor, slowly picking up the pace as his other hand gripped gently on your throat. He was doing everything perfectly, and your body and mind were in ecstasy.

Your hands lifted to grip the offending arm desperately, fingernails digging into his firm arm.

“That’s right, come on Y/N,” He breathed against you, bringing you closer to the edge. You gasped and shuddered as an orgasm was suddenly upon you, causing you to lurch forward against Jin’s shoulder, clawing at his bicep as he carried you through the orgasm, pounding into you hard and fast.

He pulled quickly out of you, giving you a moment to come down, “Ready for another round?” He asked, and you pulled away in shock before he was suddenly rubbing your clit hard and fast, causing you to gasp as the pleasure changed to slight pain as overstimulation set in.

“S-stop… n-no,” You whimpered, your body already beginning to tremble. You were already exhausted from the first one, and you could feel the pressure building up twice as much.

Soon you were too far gone as he was pounding into you once again, sweat dripping down his chest and arms as he pounded in and out of you vigorously, his head against your wet neck.

“I’m-i’m gonna… oh please,” you mewled and your eyes clenched so tight that you saw white. Your body convulsed hard beneath his finger and his hand came over your mouth as your moans grew loud and intense, liquid spewed lewdly from out of you as you came.

He watched with pride as you squirted, body writhing as your wetness covered his hand.

As soon as you finished you felt intense humiliation racing through your veins, and as he went to pull away you grabbed a hold of him tightly, trembling still, your legs clamping closed. You felt like you might cry as you breathed against his chest.

“Good job princess,” he whispered, gently rubbing your thighs and sides before one of his hands was going to rub your back.

“I’m s-sorry,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He asked, pulling away from you. His strong brows furrowed at your anxious expression.

“I didn’t m-mean to,” you whimpered, looking away from him, your hands holding tightly to his wet arm.

“Oh princess, you were amazing,” he praised, his voice taking on a comforting and almost sweet tone as he kissed your face.

You blushed brightly, taking deep breaths to calm down. You were still embarrassed, but as Jin’s hands ran up and down your sides soothingly, whispering praise against your ear, you slowly relaxed, and your body began begging once again for his cock.

“Will you fuck me now?” You whispered, looking up at him.

“I’m going to make you see stars,” he growled and you gasped as he was yanking you up from the chair and kissing you hard, his tongue invading your mouth feverishly.

You melted into the kiss, and your hands travelled down his well muscled torso to his black jeans. You were quick to undo his pants for him, pushing down the waistband eagerly, while still trying to maintain the kiss.

He separated from your mouth for a moment to pull down his pants, and then his boxers, revealing his hard length.

You gasped seeing how big he actually was, a zap of fear going through you as you wondered if you would be able to take him all. Your hands went to his cock, and you began jerking him off. Rubbing up and down on his hard length. He lifted his hands to your face, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed you hard, grunting occasionally as you went.

His mouth eventually left yours to attack the side of your neck, his hands sliding down your body and groping your ass. You were eager to feel him inside of you, just the thought alone making you wetter.

You whimpered as he smacked your ass quite hard and he pulled away from you, “Against the wall,” he ordered suddenly. You looked down and realized the precum beading at the tip of his hard cock.

You felt a flash of excitement and pride, “Yes, Chef,” you said, pulling away and going against the wall.

You heard him bend down and the rip of a package as he slipped on a condom. It was a good thing he thought to do so, because your mind was far from worrying about anything other than having him fill you.

You heard him coming back over and you squeaked as he grabbed your hips, pulling you back. Your palms splayed against the wall and you spread your legs a bit for him as he slid his finger down the length of your spine before pausing and you squeaked as he slapped your ass once again.

“After all the trouble you give me, it’s so good hearing you whine like that,” he said softly, and you gasped as he spanked you again, “You wanted me to punish you didn’t you,” he teased.

“Y-yes Chef,” you said, and as he spanked you once more, you revelled in the sting of it, feeling the way your body reacted to him spanking you. After a few more tears were pricking the corner of your eyes and you were growing needy.

“Oh please fuck me!” You cried out.

He was quiet for a moment, but then you felt his fingers slipping between your lips, pushing your lips apart to give him easier access.

“Alright now princess, be good for me,” he whispered and you waited with bated breath as the head of his cock teased your entrance, he rubbed against your slit a few times, gathering your own wetness all over his cock before he began to push inside of you.

You moaned out and brought one hand to your mouth to stifle the sound as your walls spasmed around him. He was massive, stretching you as he slowly inserted himself deep inside of you. He let out little grunts of his own at the feeling of your body clenching around him.

“I’m in,” he said, leaning down to gently bite your shoulder, making you squeak at the feeling.

“F-fuck me,” you begged, “Just fuck me,”

“So needy,” he commented, before he began slowly sliding in and out of you, causing your muscles to spasm. You bit your lip, trying to stifle any of the sounds that were begging to be released.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, smacking your ass as he started getting into a rhythm, fucking into you at a steady pace, making you whine and shudder around him. This was more than you could have ever dreamed. With each thrust he would bury himself deep inside of you, head teasing your cervix, before pulling nearly all the way out and then snapping his hips back into you, causing you to cry out at the feeling.

“Are you my little whore?” He growled as he started to pick up the pace.

“Y-yes chef,” you whimpered, feeling your knees growing weak.

“Say it.” He ordered, and you let out a faltering gasp as he suddenly pulled you up, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you while his other wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back against his chest.

“Ahh, I-I’m your little whore,” you breathed out, gasping as he was suddenly thrusting right into a sensitive area deep inside, with each snap of his hips your body would spasm.

Suddenly you both froze hearing voices coming from somewhere, and adrenaline zapped through your body. Oh fuck, what if they heard you, or worse what if they came in and saw.

He grabbed you tightly and forced you to turn with him to face the door, grabbing one of your breasts, his finger flicking cruelly over your nipple, “Do you think you can keep quiet,” he whispered against your ear, slipping his hand down your abdomen to slide a finger over your clit.

“A-aang,” you gasped, biting your tongue as he began to move his finger in slow circles, the voices were growing closer.

“They’d be so turned on to see you like this,” he whispered, “Totally at my mercy.” He growled, beginning to thrust slowly in and out again, pulling his hand away from your clit to hold you, one hand still wrapped around your throat. You felt tears pricking your eyes as you did your best to keep quiet, your stomach twisting with anxiety and your heart pounding so loud they could probably hear it out there.

He did everything in his power to torment you, fingers running between teasing your nipple and rubbing your clit. Whispering sweet nothings against your ear while occasionally biting your earlobe.

Finally you heard the door to the outside open and it was silent once more.

You let out a shaky sigh and he picked up the pace, his hand splaying across your abdomen. “Good girl,”

“Y-you’re insane,” you whined, and he laughed softly before beginning to fuck you harder, the sound of his skin slapping yours filling the room.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, “I can feel my cock hitting your walls,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

He grabbed your hand, placing it under his against your abdomen. You gasped as he suddenly snapped his hips into you, and you felt the bulge against your hand, making you even more turned on.

“Can you feel it,”

“You’re so fucking big,” you whined as he suddenly started fucking you harder, almost bouncing you on his cock. His hand moved from yours to rub your clit, making you moan loudly. His hand on your throat was snapping over your mouth in an instant to quiet you as you were pushed into orgasm once more, muscles spasming around the large man’s monstrous cock, the feeling of him hitting into your hand was making you crazy.

As you finished he slipped out of you, and you nearly fell, your legs weak. He caught you easily and spun you around, pushing you up against the wall. His hands slipped under your thighs and he was lifting you before you knew it, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips.

“I’m not done just yet baby,” he whispered. You whimpered, and sighed as he slid his cock back into easily.

“Hmmmm,” You sighed in contentment, your hands wrapping around his neck and tangling in his hair as you leaned forward to kiss him hard.

He didn't even need to lean you against the wall, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you back just as hard, your walls spasming around his large cock. You felt so full it was blissful.

He finally pressed you back against the wall, and began to pound in and out of you, causing you to throw your head back against the wall as he fucked you.

He was going faster, sweat was dripping from both of you as you were getting closer to orgasm and Jin was right on the edge. He was beginning to spew curse words, his hands gripping your sides hard as he pounded into you. You were almost laying against the wall, if it wasn’t for his hands holding you up and your death grip around his neck you would fall.

“Such a good fucking whore,” He growled, and you gasped as he lifted a hand to grope your breast, flicking his finger over your nipple before you saw his abdomen spasm, his muscles clenching as he groaned out loudly himself. His hand going back, exposing his gorgeous neckline, face twisted in pleasure.

You moaned at the sight, and as the hand on your breast rubbed over your swollen, oversensitive clit you were coming as well, body spasming for the fourth time in orgasm as he held you tightly. As you both finished finally you pulled yourself up onto him, dropping your head against his shoulder and taking gasping breaths, your entire body exhausted.

You felt his cock slip out of you and he held you tightly, a hand going to your head, running his fingers through your hair, breathing just as deeply as you.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Tired,” you muttered, you weren’t sure yet if you could stand on your own.

“Think you’ll be able to drive home?” He asked, rubbing your back in slow circles.

You let out a soft sigh, “Ohhhh, fuck,” you groaned. You had completely forgotten about the thirty minute drive home, and already your body was so sore and tired. You wanted to sleep more than anything.

“You can stay the night with me,” he offered sweetly.

“Are you sure,” you muttered.

“Get dressed,” He ordered, helping you disentangle yourself from him and finding your clothes for you.

You struggled slightly getting yourself dressed. You would need to go to the bathroom asap, but you wondered if he would leave you behind if you did. Not that it would matter. Jin put on his clothes, folding up his chef's coat from the chair and folding it over his arm.

You looked at it and felt a dark blush cover your cheeks, “I’m sorry… about that.” you said, gesturing to the chef's coat.

Jin chuckled darkly, “It was sexy,” he said, shrugging and grinning from ear to ear.

You looked away shyly, “Th-thanks… and I- I’m sorry about today too. I was just frustrated and-” Jin came forward, placing a finger against your lips.

“Hush. We’re already past that… you made up for it… Besides it was more me than you that was being an asshole.” He admitted, and leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“I really like you,” you blurted. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the fact this man had given you four of the best orgasms of your life, but you were suddenly ready to bare your soul to him.

You didn’t want this to be a one time thing… well maybe just once here. You didn’t want to go back to the strained relationship.

“Well I gathered that,” he said, rolling his eyes at you.

“I-I mean it… I…”

“Princess, we don’t need to talk about this right now.” He said, caressing your cheek, “We smell like sex and sweat, and we’re standing in a filthy back room at work… let’s go back to my place okay? We can take a shower and talk more,” he promised.

You nodded slowly, that sounded heavenly… but still.

“Th-that’s fine but, we won’t go back to how things were before right?… We aren’t gonna fight anymore?”

“I’m tired of pretending I like you less than I do,” he said, smiling sweetly at you before coming over to you.

He placed his arm around you and slowly opened the door, looking both ways before stepping out and taking you outside into the cold air. As soon as you got to his car and sat down in the passenger seat you were out like a light…

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Cursing, sfw fwb dynamic (lmao it’s secret hugging)

A/N:

*heavy breathing* I finally finished it!! I’ve had this request sitting in my inbox for literal months and I’m so sorry, anon, that you had to wait so long 😫. I hope you like what I came up with!

Also I ended up using she/her pronouns a bit towards the end, so if you’d like me to edit it so it has they/them I can repost it! Just let me know :)

-Sugar

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● Bakugou's never been much for physical affection

● Or, at least, so he'd convinced himself

● Even around his family, he found himself shrinking back from hugs

● And anytime one of his friends would try to put an arm around him or pat him on the back, he'd flinch and tense up (Kirishima and Kaminari had a few special privileges, but even they were on thin fucking ice)

● A part of him craved that touch, wished it could last longer

● But his ego always got in the way

● From a young age, he'd viewed acts like this as showing weakness and vulnerability. It's no surprise that by the time he arrives at UA, the longing is a mostly ignorable dull throb

● Until he got to know you

● You were one of the most sickeningly sweet people Bakugou had ever seen, and he despised you

● You were just as bad as that Shitty Hair, if not worse; always grinning and trying to include everyone, even him

● He hated how his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own around you, never letting you leave their gaze when you were around him. He hated how your laugh made his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his chest. And most of all, he hated when the tips of your fingers would brush against his arm, or when you tried to lean on his shoulder. You truly were the most intolerable of beings

● And it seems like you're even worse today

● Class was about to start and you were talking with Ashido, Kirishima, and Kaminari

● He honestly wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, that is, until he heard his name mentioned

● His red eyes flicked to you, since it had been your voice he'd heard say his name

● You had definitely been trying to get his attention. Now your gaze was directed at him

● "I've never seen you hug anyone, Bakugou," you said, your head tilted slightly as you addressed him

● "The hell does that have to do with anything?" he grumbled, already getting annoyed at the topic of conversation

● "Well, I read the other day that hugs can make you happier! And you always seem so grumpy all the time, so I was wondering if you just needed more hugs."

● You seemed oblivious to the way your classmates were staring at you. Even Bakugou couldn't bring himself to speak, merely glaring at you with a confused, almost offended expression

● Panicking at his lack of response, you bent down and threw your arms around his shoulders. You thought you heard a gasp from one or two of your classmates behind you

● Bakugou seemed to have no reaction other than mild shock. He just froze there, neither pushing you off nor reciprocating

● The whole thing was over within a few seconds, but it felt as though it had actually lasted much, much longer. Seconds after you pulled away, the bell rang for class to start, and everyone had to go back to their seats

● There was an abnormal silence in the class after that. It was as if nearly every student was thinking, Holy crap, (L/N) just hugged Bakugou freaking Katsuki

● Bakugou was weirdly silent too. It seemed as if he hadn't had any reaction at all

● Sike—it was pure chaos inside his head

● He's just been pounded with a whole slew of new feelings and emotions—give the boy a break (and a minute to process)

● He can scarcely pay attention during class (which he can afford to do, it's not like he doesn't already know most of this stuff)

● Katsuki can't tell if he hated it or not

● His immediate instinct is to reject it and say it was awful . . . but he can't deny that there's a teeny tiny part of his brain that wants you to do it again

● No one can ever know this, of course. He has a reputation to maintain, after all

● But in the safety of his own mind, he replays it over and over, trying to remember every detail of how your arms had felt around him for that brief moment

● Boy was hooked on you even more than he had been before

● But it's not like anyone can tell. Bakugou's good at that. No one would ever be able to tell he had any feelings towards the incident at all, negative or positive

● Even after his friends bombard him with questions after class, he gruffly brushes them all off. He acts so uninterestingly about it, they don't even bother asking him about it again

● Bakugou hopes that this will all blow over within the next few days. He'd surely stop thinking about you all the time, right? Maybe somehow, if he ignored these thoughts, his eyes wouldn't trail after you on their own accord, and his mind wouldn't jump at every opportunity to think about you

● For weeks, he told himself this, and time passed to nearly two months. He avoided you at all costs, refusing to speak to you or even make eye contact

● You felt horrible, blaming it on the dumb mistake you'd made to hug him that morning. No matter how hard you tried to approach him to apologize, he'd turn you away, and soon enough, you'd given up

● Until one night, he couldn't take it anymore

● He had just been fantasizing about that moment again, and tentatively wondering how it would feel to put his arms around you while he was out in the dorm hallway

● Even through the haze of his thoughts, he was quick to notice your head of hair about to turn into the hallway to your room

● You. Bubbly, bright, overly touchy and friendly you. Fuck you.

● You were always hugging everyone, right? You didn't really mean anything by it, right? It was no big deal when you hugged other people. So, maybe if he were to just ask . . .

● "Oi."

● You froze in your tracks. You'd caught sight of him in the hall, but you knew better than to try to attract his attention. He was dead set on avoiding you, and you'd pretty much accepted that by now

● Turning, you met his fiery red eyes for the first time in weeks. "Yeah?"

● There was something . . . apprehensive in his expression. You weren't sure if you'd ever seen anything like it on his face before

● "Get over here, I want to ask you something." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his glare to the carpet below him

● Uncertain of what might be going on, you cautiously made your way to him

● "What is it?" you asked, a little annoyed with how he'd been treating you lately

● "I, um, well—remember that thing you did a while ago?"

● You blinked at him, slowly. "I do a lot of things. You need to be more specific."

● You'd never seen him look so flustered. It was almost . . . cute

● "You—um, you hugged me. Remember?"

● Of course you remembered. That was what had made him hate you in the first place, right?

● You sighed and crossed your arms. "Look, I'm sorry I did that. I know it made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry it affected you so much. Really, I was just goofing around, and I'm sorry it got out of hand."

● He blinked at you. You were apologizing? Oh, maybe it did make sense, now that he thought about it. He had been being an ass to you

● "Is that what you wanted?" you asked. "I tried to apologize a long time ago but you wouldn't even look at me—"

● "Could you do it again?" he cut you off

● ". . . apologize?"

● "What?! No!" Bakugou's face reddened and he scanned the surroundings for a potential audience. He dropped his voice to a scarcely audible mumble. "I . . . —dammit, I want you to hug me again."

● You blinked at him, this time in surprise. You had, in fact, heard him, but you could barely believe it. You only knew that you'd understood him correctly by his posture, and how uncharacteristically flustered he was

● "You want another hug?"

● He scowled. "Don't make me say it twice."

● "So you liked it the first time?"

● "I never said that!"

● "Uh-huh."

● Even with your annoyed teasing, you felt as if you might be able to understand a little. Everything seemed to make more sense to you, and you were beginning to catch onto the bigger picture. He'd been embarrassed that he liked it, and that was why he'd been avoiding you

● "So do you want a hug now or—?"

● "Not where anyone could see!" Bakugou's eyes nervously darted around again. "We could . . . go in my room or something." His voice had dropped back to a mumble

● You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Secret hugs, huh? I didn't know I was in such high demand."

● "Shut up, dumbass. Just follow me."

● You do that, letting him lead you into his room. After he shuts the door behind you, you stand there awkwardly for a second

● "So . . . you just wanted a hug?"

● He shrugged. "Yeah."

● You closed the distance between you and took him into your arms

● He stiffened a little at the contact, heart pounding away in his chest. It was even better than he had remembered, and now he noticed even more things; like the way your chest felt pressed against his body, and how your hair smelled like shampoo, and—

● "Relax, idiot," you whispered beside his ear. Bakugou tried to let out some of the tension in his shoulders and even tried looping his own arms around you

● You snickered internally, until a thought struck you

● When you finally pulled away, you looked at him inquisitively. "When was the last time you hugged someone?" you asked. "Other than me."

● He frowned, still a little flustered. Then he shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably been a few years."

● You couldn't help but feel your heart pang a little bit for the boy. You knew how he felt about interacting with people. You'd seen how adverse he'd seemed towards physical interaction, even among his friends

●Touch starved, you thought. It was an awful thing to experience. Bakugou probably wasn't even aware of what he was missing

● You sighed. "We can do this again if you want," you offered, wondering if the proposition would set him off to ignore you again. "I won't tell anyone."

● "Better not," he muttered under his breath

● "Do you want me to come back or not?" you asked

● He shrugged. "S'whatever. Do whatever."

● You frowned right back at him. "Yes. Or no?"

● "Yes! Yes, come over here and hug me or whatever shit! Just—just leave now."

● You rolled your eyes at him, turning and twisting the doorknob. "Just ask when you're ready," you said before walking out of his room again

● Bakugou stared at the door for a long time after you'd left

● His chest felt like it had little explosions going off in it, and he couldn't help but feel ridiculously giddy

● What was he doing? But it had felt . . . amazing. And you'd offered to do it again, whenever he asked . . . .

● . . . You proved to stand by your word

● Sure enough, he'd catch you alone every few days and sneak off to his room for a quick hug. In return, he'd help you go over your notes for class

● Before long, you couldn't help but feel closer to Bakugou. Even with his harsh nature, you noticed how he could really be. Coupled with the moments of vulnerability he'd let you in on while you hugged in secret, your liking for the boy only grew

● And it did seem to have some effect on his mood. He wasn't so easily set off, and he yelled a bit less. Your fellow classmates didn't bring up the change, but they had certainly noticed it

● Even though no one was allowed to know about your shared moments together, Kirishima would often join you for a study session

● During those days, you'd wait until he left before going in to give Bakugou his hug

● Until the inevitable happened

● It was just you and Bakugou in his room. You'd gotten all your stuff packed up for the night and you were giving him one last hug

● He'd gotten better at it over the past couple of weeks, and he'd learned to relax more into your hold

● Of course, that was right when Kirishima came back in

● "Sorry, dude, I left my—" He froze at the sight before him

● Bakugou jumped back from you, trying to look as though it wasn't obvious what he'd just been doing

● "Sorry, guys!" he said, hovering in the doorway for a moment as he debated whether or not to grab whatever he'd forgotten before dashing back out. Ultimately he decided to go emptyhanded, slamming the door shut as he whisked back into his room

● You looked at Bakugou, trying to gauge how he'd taken this turn of events. He looked angry and flustered (a look on him you were starting to get used to), but he definitely could have looked more outraged

● You patted his back. "Are you okay?"

● The blond seemed speechless for once, unable to take his eyes off the door

● "It's just Kirishima," you assured him. "He'd get it. He's understanding."

● Bakugou wasn't so sure

● A few minutes after you left, there was another knock at Bakugou's door

● "What the hell do you want?"

● Kirishima poked his head in, making sure the coast was clear. "I just wanted my notebook back."

● Bakugou picked it up from his desk and launched it at Kirishima's head, which he barely managed to catch

● "Thanks, man." Even with his originally sought after item, the redhead proceeded to step into his friend's room. "So what's going on with you and (L/N)?"

● There it was, the question Bakugou knew was coming

● "Nothing." At least it wasn't a complete lie

● "No, you two were doing something," Kirishima smirked. "Are you dating in secret or something?"

● "What?! No! It's not like that! And besides, it's none of your fucking business."

● Kirishima shrugged. "That's fair. But if you're not dating, why was she hugging you?"

● Bakugou tched. "She hugs everyone, you know her."

● "Yeah, but you were hugging her back."

● "She just gives really nice hugs!"

● Kirishima pouted. "You never hug me."

● "That's because it's different!"

● "So does that mean you like her or something?"

● Bakugou froze for just a split second too long. "No."

● Kirishima gave him a look. "She might like you back. Just ask her out on a date."

● "I already said it wasn't like that—"

● Bakugou's friend shrugged. "Well, if it was . . . couldn't hurt to try."

● Once Kirishima was successfully kicked from Bakugou's room, he took a moment to think. Could he actually . . . like you? Maybe that would explain some of the things that he'd been feeling lately

● But what about you? Could you like him back?

● Bakugou rolled his shoulders. Of course you'd like him, what part of him wasn't perfect? But still . . . .

● One night a few days later, you were alone with Bakugou again in his room, doing homework together

● You couldn't help but notice that his vibe seemed off, and it looked like he was having trouble concentrating

● "Are you alright?" you finally asked him

● "Yeah," he snapped

● "You seem stressed," you commented.

● "I'm not fucking stressed," he said, refusing to meet your eyes as he glared at his notebook in front of him

● "Okay, then," you muttered, rolling your eyes to yourself and attempting to go back to your own notes

● You watched Bakugou fidget from the corner of your eye, but decided not to pay it any mind anymore. It wasn't long before you noticed that he hadn't turned a page in his book for the past several minutes

● Bakugou was, of course, internally raging

● Why couldn't he ask you a simple question? Did he even know what kind of question he wanted to ask, though?

●Go out on a date with me— too forward, it didn't sound right to him in his head

●For some reason, I think I might like you— no again, that wasn't right either

● His mind rolled over various phrasings, trying to figure out how to put his feelings to words. How was he supposed to do that?

● How could he iterate this weird burning mess he felt clawing in his chest every time he looked at you and touched you? How could he say that he wanted more than what you were doing? How was he supposed to get the reaction out of you that he wanted?

●Be fearless, he told himself. He'd faced worse than this before. He'd been through situations where his life had literally been on the line. How come you, of all people, made him feel more frightened than ever before? Why did he care about your opinion of him so goddamn much??

● He had to start somewhere. Maybe once he got going it would be easier

● "Oi," he said, straining to keep his voice steady and nonchalant as you looked up at his averted eyes

● "Yeah?"

● "I was . . . I was wondering if maybe you wanted to . . . study somewhere else sometime."

● You blinked at him. "Like . . . where?"

● He shrugged, just a bit too jerkily. "I don't know. There's this café a few blocks from campus."

● You squinted at him. "What's wrong with staying here?"

● He scowled, his eyes finally darting up to meet yours before dipping back down again. "I just wondered if we could maybe—do something together. Something a little different."

● A hint of realization dawned on you, causing a smile to alight on your lips and your eyebrow to quirk up. "Different like—a date? Are you asking me out on a date with you?"

● He shrugged again in the same manner, still scowling as he muttered, "Only if you want it to be."

● You considered for a moment. He was a decent enough guy. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you might say you'd developed a bit of a crush on him, actually. You'd never paid too much attention to it before, but now that he was asking . . . it couldn't hurt to try

● "Of course I'll go out with you," you said, breaking into an easy smile that Bakugou still wasn't certain if he adored or hated

● He immediately relaxed, a small smile of his own appearing on his face at your agreement

● He was glad it was you. You were the only person he felt comfortable being vulnerable around. He could already tell that he was growing to like you more and more with each passing day, and he could only hope that you felt the same

● You put up with him, and you were strong in your own way, and by goodness, he was beginning to fall for you so hard

● And maybe, if you agreed for him to be your boyfriend, you'd let him cuddle with you. It wouldn't be awkward, because that's what couples did. You'd be his and he'd be yours, and he wouldn't have to bottle up these annoying feelings anymore

● But that would be decided at some later time

● Even so, he couldn't wait for that day to come

═══════ ∘♡༉∘ ═══════

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @fourteenow @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @xoxopam4​​

[the-bau-quinjet]

But with you, it’s different...

So, I’ve combined two of my great obsessions: Criminal Minds and Taylor Swift. Pretend the reader is Taylor Swift in the sense that she wrote and recorded the songs, but that’s it. Also, the songs are all out of order and not from the albums so just pretend that’s okay. I don’t reference the albums, but individual songs and yeah. It’s honestly kind of a mess, but also makes me happy. This is part 1! I have most of it written, so I should be able to post the other parts pretty soon. I think there will be 3 actual parts and then a short epilogue! Last thing, Spencer is a little out of character. I (try to) explain that later!!

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her. 

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader

Word Count: 7940

You weren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen tonight. It was just the usual Saturday night. Honestly, you were looking forward to having a boring two weeks off. You absolutely loved touring and performing and seeing your fans, but it was going to be great to have some time just to write again. Writing music has always helped you de-stress and get your emotions out, and you were supposed to finally have a chance to do just that. However, the universe had different plans. Plans that involved the FBI.

This was your second night in DC. It was the first of some of the bigger cities on your tour where you were doing two shows, so you are even more exhausted than normal. You really only just started the US leg of your tour, but the two weeks off was well earned from the Europe, Asia, and South America legs.

 As you begin to perform the second to last song, you start to feel the familiar sadness you get when finishing a show. It’s almost as though the adrenaline rush from the excitement of so many screaming fans is wearing off and you can’t help but feel a bit sorry that the fun is coming to an end. After so many performances though, you’ve learned how to hide the emotions and give the audience your best fake smile. The last song is where you have some real fun, so just make it there.

 As you duck off stage to change for the final performance, you can’t help but notice the small group of people conversing, quite tensely, with your security team. They don’t look like the normal fans who would try to sneak backstage, too official. You make eye contact with one of them. He looks to be about your age, but you’ve never been great at guessing. There’s something about him that makes you want to find out exactly who he is right now, but you can’t. 

You’re left wondering about his identity as you run back onstage for the grand finale. You feel a genuine smile appearing as you feel the heat from the fireworks and listen to the happy cheers from the crowd. You’re last song goes off without a hitch, but you’re exhausted. There’s nothing you want more than to just shower and sleep, but there’s always a buzz about the cast and crew that prevents anyone from leaving right away.

 “Thank you for a great second night DC! Goodnight!” You shout into the mic as you duck back offstage to ride out the post show high. You are still chatting with some of the dancers you’ve become friends with when Carrie, the head of security, comes up with one of the men you saw arguing with her earlier.

 “Y/N? Can I talk to you for a minute?” You turn, surprised to see the stern man standing behind Carrie. “Yeah, sure.” You turn to excuse yourself from the dancers, wishing them a goodnight before turning back to Carrie.

 “We can go do your dressing room, that’s where the others are waiting.” Carrie says with a nervous smile on her face.

 “The others?” You ask confused, jogging to keep up with the brisk pace she has set for you and the stern man. “Who are we talking to?”

 “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We will explain everything as soon as we meet up with the rest of the team.” The stern man spoke quietly, but with confidence as he followed behind you and Carrie. Before you could ask anything else, you were being ushered into your dressing room, coming face to face with the other two people you saw arguing with Carrie earlier. The first one you notice is a woman with jet black hair and fierce eyes. The other is the tall, lanky man you made eye contact with.

 You’re a little excited to get a closer look. He looks a little awkward at first glance, but you can tell he’s a sneaky sort of attractive underneath the perfectly placed tie and the comfy cardigan. Before you can get too caught up in how good looking these three strangers are, you turn to the stern one and ask “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Your tone clearly indicates the confusion you’re feeling. 

 “Ms. L/N, my name is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I am the Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI.” You can feel your eyes go wide as he shows you a badge with his picture and title. Before you can respond, he begins talking again. “These are SSAs Emily Prentiss” the woman gives you a reassuring smile and slight wave, “and Dr. Spencer Reid.” The sneakily attractive one nods his head in your general direction.

 The woman just introduced as Emily chimes in “we are here because we believe there is a killer targeting fans of your music. We have been tracking murders for the past two weekends. The first was in Louisville, Kentucky, then Columbus, Ohio, and then two right here in D.C.”

 “I was just in Louisville… and Columbus.” You feel yourself beginning to get dizzy as you try to comprehend what the agents are telling you.

 “Yes, and now you’re in DC.” The boss man is talking again. “We made the connection this afternoon as you had two shows here in DC.” The room is starting to spin as you listen to the man talk. “After more digging, we found each victim had purchased a ticket to your show. Additionally, they all had social media accounts dedicated as fan pages to you.” Agent Hotchner continues speaking as you nod along, trying to comprehend how this was happening. You don’t even realize you are tuning him out as you begin to sway on your feet. You can see his mouth moving, and the growing look of concern on his face is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

 --

 You can hear a faint beeping as you begin to wake up. For a moment, you are blissfully unaware of the murders before the memory of meeting the three agents comes back to you. You instantly sit up and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You can see a very muscular bald man through a window, talking to someone in scrubs.

 Scrubs. A nurse. You are in the hospital.

 Your heart rate begins to calm down before skyrocketing again when you hear “Ms. L/N?” from the other side of the room. Turning with wide eyes and a scared expression, you throw your arms up to defend yourself from the unknown voice.

 “Sorry! Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Instantly you relax again at the familiar face. You drop your arms back to the bed, shifting into a more comfortable position before asking “Okay, Doctor. What’s wrong with me? Why am I in the hospital?”

He looks at you with a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck before he admits, “Oh, I’m not that kind of doctor. I’ll go get a nurse or someone. Try to think back on what you remember before waking up here.” He shuffles out of the room as you try to replay the conversation with the other agents.

 Well, it wasn’t much of a conversation with them doing all of the talking, but still. The unknown man from outside your room window and the nurse he was talking to come into the room with Dr. Reid. The nurse begins checking your vitals as she asks you some questions.

 “Hi there. It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?” She wears a small smile.

 “Oh, um, I feel fine. I think. I’m just confused about how I ended up here. I remember talking to the agents at the arena, but that’s it.” You close your eyes as you try to remember more, but nothing comes to you.

 “That was only about 45 minutes ago, dear.” The nurse’s kind voice helps settle you. “You fainted while the agents were talking to you. They brought you here. You should be good to leave in a few minutes as long as your vitals are good.”

 “Thank you.” You return her kind smile as she marks information on your chart before leaving the room.

 “Ms. L/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan.” The Doctor Agent is talking again.

 “Please, call me Y/N.” You rub your head, continuing to try to remember more about your condition. Before either man in the room can speak up, a new thought occurs to you. “If I fainted, why doesn’t my head hurt? The floor in my dressing room is not soft.” You look between the two men for an explanation.  

 The doctor shifts his weight from foot to foot a blush appearing on his face as Agent Morgan speaks up. “That is because Pretty Boy over here” he claps a hand onto the doctor’s shoulder “caught you before you hit the ground.” “Oh, um… Thank you.” You can feel the blush beginning to form as you think about his arms being around you.

 “It was no problem, really. Can we ask you a few questions?” He moves on quickly. “Oh sure thing Dr. Reid. Or Agent Reid. Agent Dr. Reid?” You can feel the blush growing as you ramble.

 “Just Sp-Spencer is fine.” He cuts you off before you can continue suggesting different honorifics. “What do you remember from what Agent Hotchner was telling you?”

 “He said someone was mur-murdering fans of me.” Tears spring to your eyes as you think about it. “That someone was killed in Kentucky and Ohio and then two people here in DC.” You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

 Get a hold of yourself.

 You feel a new weight on your hand before hearing Spencer begin talking again. “Take your time.” You open your eyes to see him patting your hand delicately. He moves back after you take a few deep, calming breaths.

 “I’m sorry. I just feel awful knowing people are dy-dying because of me. Is there anything I can do to help?” You choke on the words a bit, realizing the full gravity of the situation.

 “Do you recognize any of these people?” Agent Morgan pulls out photos of three women and one man, handing them to you to sift through. He seems to be staring at Spencer, but you just focus on the pictures. You can feel the tears building again as you realize who they are.

 “I do.” You take another breath before continuing. “I haven’t met them before, but they are all really active on different social sites. I try to talk to as many fans as I can ya know? They are why I am where I am. Is that why they were killed? Oh god. No no no no.” Your breathe increases in speed as you think about everything that is happening.

 “Hey, hey, hey, none of this is your fault.” Spencer is patting your hand again as he tries to calm you down. Just then, the nurse comes back with some paperwork for you to sign in order to leave.

 “You are free to go Ms. L/N. Just sign these forms and hand them in at the desk on your way out.” She exits the room swiftly.

 “Would you mind coming back to our office to finish talking?” Agent Morgan asks.

 “Of course not. Anything I can do to help.” You turn in the forms before following them to a black SUV. Spencer opens the door for you to get in the back before he slides in next to you. You don’t even have the brain power to consider why he isn’t sitting in the front. You just grab his hand and squeeze it, unable to get the thoughts out of your head that this was all your fault.  

 “This is not your fault. You had no idea what was happening, and now that you do you are trying to help.” Spencer looks at you reassuringly as he squeezes your hand right back. You simply nod back. You don’t trust yourself to speak without crying. You just need to calm down before you get to the office.

 About 15 minutes later you pull up to the FBI building that houses the BAU. They must’ve brought you to a hospital near Quantico. They lead you through security up to the fifth floor. You walk through a set of glass doors, passing a few desks before entering a conference room. “Do you need anything? Coffee, water?” Spencer asks as Agent Morgan leaves the room.

 “Oh, um, no I’m okay for now.” You stare at your hands as you go to sit down. “Actually, could I get a jacket or something?” You gesture to what you’re wearing as you ask. You haven’t had a chance to change yet, meaning you are wearing a black, sequined romper that is basically a leotard with how short it is. Perfect for performing, but not exactly FBI attire. “Of co-course! I’ll be right back.” He practically runs out of the room.

 A few minutes later, he pushes the door back open. “Here’s some clothes you can change into if you want. Or just a sweatshirt.” You look up from your position in the chair, rising to take the clothes.

 “Thank you.” You look from the clothes to him realizing you need to change, but are in a room full of windows in an unfamiliar building.

 He catches on a few seconds later, leading you out of the room. “The bathroom is this way!” He squeaks out as you both walk down a hallway outside the glass doors you came in. “I’ll wait here to show you back.” You smile as you brush past him, whispering thank you as you close the door.

 You instantly take off the romper, sliding on some FBI sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that smells like vanilla and new books. The scent is oddly comforting. You would think a standard FBI sweatshirt would smell new, but this scent is calming your nerves. You fix your makeup as best you can before heading out of the bathroom. Spencer is a few feet away talking to a beautiful blonde woman. She looks effortlessly gorgeous. She smiles as she notices you, waving you to join them.

 “Ms. L/N, it’s lovely to meet you, although I do wish it was under better circumstances. I am SSA Jennifer Jureau, but you can call me JJ. The rest of the team is waiting for us to join them.” She smiles kindly, but you are frozen in place. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

 Spencer grabs your arm lightly, pulling you out of your trance. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” He whispers as the three of you start walking back toward the conference room you were in earlier.

 He lets your arm fall back to your side before guiding you back into the room behind JJ. You freeze again upon entering the room. You recognize Agents Hotchner, Prentiss, and Morgan, but are surprised by the other two faces. There is an older man with salt and pepper hair smiling kindly at you. He reminds you of your father. Then there is a very bubbly blonde, in a very colorful dress and matching glasses.

 They introduce themselves as SSA David Rossi and technical analyst Penelope Garcia. The unit chief begins to describe the case again, going slower this time given your earlier episode. “We believe the unsub is targeting fans of yours who he believes is unworthy of your attention. He worships you and views his victims as people who are not devoted enough to you.”

 You can’t decide how to respond, so you wait for another agent to continue. “Do you know of anyone who might be overly obsessed with you? Maybe they sent you letters that were a bit more personal than normal?” At this point, you decide you are done being controlled by this situation. What happened to those people is awful, but you can’t change it. You need to be strong to help prevent it from happening to anyone else.

 “I haven’t finished my fan letters from this week yet. I try to go through as many as possible, but there is only so much time in a day.” At this point you are pacing. Walking around has always helped you with thinking things over. “There is one letter that sticks out from three weeks ago. That was before the murd-” you stutter on the word. “Before anything happened though. Could that be relevant?” You ask, looking hopeful. If the agents are surprised by your change of attitude they don’t mention it.

 “It might be. What did it say?” Agent Hotchner asks, the same stern expression adorning his features.

 “I don’t remember all of it, but it looked like it was written on a typewriter, so it stood out. It said something about how they wondered if my hair smelled like peaches after I finished a show. I thought it was weird because my shampoo is peach scented, but how could they possibly know that? I figured I must have met them in passing, you know. I meet a lot of fans just walking around the different cities. Something just felt weird about this letter though. Like a bad feeling. I mean, my hair doesn’t really retain the scent of my shampoo all that much. So how could he know that unless he knew what shampoo I use? But actually, I use a personalized shampoo so I can change the scent every time I but it- it must’ve been a lucky guess, right? Maybe I just look like I would use peach scented shampoo” You feel like you are talking a mile a minute, but you can’t get yourself to stop. You practically fall back into your chair as you finish rambling about the letter, looking up to see unmistakable expressions of concern on the agents’ faces.

 “What? What does that mean? Oh god- How does he know my shampoo smells like peaches?” You look between all the agents as they seem to be communicating with just their eyes. You resort to taking calming breaths again. They’ll fill you in eventually, you need to breathe. You drop your head between your thighs as you push your chair away from the table. Breathe in for 7 seconds, hold for 7, and breathe out for 7. This always helps calm you down before a show.

 You choose to ignore the agents quietly talking to each other again as you focus on slowing your heart rate back to a normal pace.

 “Ms. L/N?” You look up exasperatedly, “Please, just call me Y/N.”

 “Then you can call me Penelope!” The woman has such a kindness to her that you can’t help but smile back at her.

 “What can I do for you Penelope?” She seems a bit surprised, but she responds in kind.

 “I just wanted to ask if you wanted some coffee. Or water or anything?” You smile at her kind gesture, rising from your seat.

 “Actually, some tea would be wonderful. But, please, let me come help you. These guys seem like they need to talk and it would probably be easier if I wasn’t in the room.” You smile as you walk out the door, leaving the agents slightly stunned at your observational skills in your distressed state.

 Penelope follows you out and leads you to what you assume is the break room. “We don’t really have much tea, but I know where the good doctor keeps his private collection.” She whispers conspiratorially as she searches through a small cabinet. “Aha! Here it is.” She presents you with a pretty impressive collection of teas. You opt for the simple peppermint. You have always found peppermint tea the most soothing.

 She hands you a mug before gesturing to the Keurig on the counter. You place the teabag in the cup, selecting the largest cup on the machine, and brewing hot water for your tea. The two of you don’t say anything while it steeps. Penelope speaks up when you move to sit down at the small table.

 “I just have to say, I am a huge fan of yours.” You can’t hide the smile that forms on your face. You have always loved meeting fans. They are just so sweet and you appreciate them beyond belief.

 “Thank you so much!” She seems a bit relieved at your response. “That’s honestly so nice to hear right now. I kind of feel like a mess.” You gesture to the oversized clothes you’ve got on.

 “Please, you look so gorgeous right now. It’s amazing. Your music is amazing too. I absolutely love Begin Again! It’s so romantic!” She gushes over the song.

 “Honestly, that one took me forever to write. I was in a pretty bad place after a bad breakup, convinced I would never love again. Dramatic, I know.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “But then I saw these two people in a café, and they just looked so happy. The idea of a new love forming so casually right in front of me was beautiful.” You smile thinking about the couple, wondering if they are still together.

 “Wow, so you can really right about anything?” She looks while asking the question.

 “Pretty much. I mean, they won’t all be good. It could be the tiniest moment or a huge thing in my life. Inspiration comes from everywhere. A lot of songs actually draw from multiple experiences, not just one thing. I could totally see myself writing a song about you.”

“No way! That would be insane.” You smile at her enthusiasm.

 “I’m serious! You just give of this energy that is so positive, it’s hard to remember ever being sad. I think it would be about how confident you are. Something like…” you trail off as you begin to hum, setting up your phone to record. “You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that nobody’s gonna love you like me!” You hum a few more bars before ending the recording.

 “That was insane. How do you do that?!” She has a wild kind of excitement in her eyes.

 “I don’t know. You just inspired me.” You grin at the shocked expression in her eyes.

 “Sing it again!” And you can’t help but give her what she wants.

 You hum a bit more of a melody that could work before jumping into the words you already said. You add a few more here and there, but nothing concrete. In your focus on singing, you don’t hear the door open behind you.

 “I’m the only one of me, baby that’s the fun of me. Oh oh oh. You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that you’ll never find another like me.” “I don’t doubt it.” You turn in shock to look at the person behind you, seeing none other than Spencer Reid in the doorway. You don’t notice the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks that you heard his comment, just like he doesn’t notice the matching expression on your face. Penelope though, she notices. And, she can’t wait to tell Derek.

 Spencer clears his throat before speaking again. “We’re ready for you to come back in if you’re up for it. We want to talk to you about a plan to keep you safe.”

 “Sure thing.” You grab your tea from the table before you and Penelope follow Spencer back to the conference room. You sitting cross-legged in your seat. You feel much calmer after chatting with Penelope. Song writing has always been cathartic for you, and it is reassuring that hasn’t changed.

The agents waste no time getting down to business. “We believe the unsub has broken into your tour bus. If the letter was from him, it would explain how he knows about the peach scent.” Agent Rossi starts.

 Agent Morgan continues, “It’s an easier target than a hotel room or your personal home since fewer people would be securing it.” You nod along with them. You are determined to stay strong through this.

 “We want to completely ensure your safety, so we think it best to send an agent to stay with you while we work on the case.” Agent Prentiss chimes in. You feel like you’re going to get whiplash looking between all their faces.

 “Since we haven’t ruled out people on the crew, we want this to remain as secret as possible. We will inform the head of security on your team, but other than that the agent will be undercover.” Agent Hotchner, stern as ever, appears to be studying your reaction.

 “Okay.” You sigh. “Okay, I can handle this. I’ll be fine. I’ll have an agent with me. Who’s going undercover? Do you have a cover story planned?” You look at Agent Hotchner with nervous eyes.

 “We wanted to plan the cover story with you to make it as believable as possible. What are you planning on doing for the next few weeks?” You consider what your plans consist of. Honestly, nothing but songwriting.

 “I plan on mostly working on songwriting. I usually go to cafes, parks, or anywhere really with people for inspiration. If I already have an idea, I’ll write from my hotel room or from home if I’m there. If any of you have any musical experience, then we could make up a cover story about a new writing partner. Nobody would really question it because I write with new people all the time.” You glance around the room to see if anyone is willing to take you up on your offer. Nobody says anything for a minute. They are communicating with looks again.

 Penelope chimes in “Reid knows how to play the piano!” You can’t help but latch on to the statement as you turn toward Spencer.

 “Really, that would be so helpful! I normally write to piano or guitar and then add any additional instrumental later in the studio. If you can play, then the story would look even more believable!” You are actually getting excited about this idea working out. You finally feel like you’ve helped them with something. They probably could’ve figured it out without you, but still.

 “Yes, I can play. I mean, it’s just mathematics if you think about it.” Spencer responds quietly, like his mind is somewhere else.

 “Reid, if you feel comfortable with it, that story sounds like great cover.” Reid nods at Agent Hotchner. “Great. You can go to your place and grab some clothes and anything else you’ll need.” He says to Spencer before turning his attention to you. You watch as Spencer walks out with the rest of the team before turning to meet Agent Hotchner’s eye. “It’s best if we stick to your plans as closely as possible. If the unsub is someone who works with you, he will likely notice if you start changing your behavior too much.” You nod in response, mentally going through everything you do from day to day.

 “Agent Reid will stay with you in your hotel room if you are comfortable with it. That is the safest arrangement since he will be close by if anything happens. We will also have agents tail you when you go out in public. We’ll have a rotation of agents in the rooms around yours each night to allow Reid to rest as well. He knows how to contact us, but we will program our numbers into your phone as well for backup. Do not hesitate to call any one of us if something feels even remotely wrong, no matter the time. Do you understand?”

 Again, you nod in response. It’s a lot of information to take in and honestly, you’re still thinking about sharing a hotel room with Spencer.

 “We will need to see the letter you mentioned earlier if you still have it. We would also like to go through the fan mail you currently have and any new mail that comes in. If you see anything else that feels off or seems suspicious, tell Reid or call one of us. If you remember anything else, tell Reid or call one of us.” He gives you a questioning glance to ensure you are following.

 “Basically, tell Reid everything. Got it.” You try to remain lighthearted even though Agent Hotchner’s serious expression hasn’t waned in the slightest.

 “It’s good to see you’ve got a good attitude about this. It’s hard to remain calm, but it will help limit any suspicion on the part of the unsub. We don’t want to escalate his plans. Do you have any questions for me?” He gives you a reassuring look as you contemplate everything he’s told you.

 “What does unsub mean?” you blurt out, surprising both of you. “Sorry, that was loud.” You cringe. “I just meant, why do you call the criminal, unsub?”

 You can see the faintest of smiles on his face as he replies, “Right, we can get pretty wrapped up in a case. It stands for unidentified subject. We try not to assign nicknames or anything to the perpetrators as it can affect their behavior.”

 “Right. Behavior.” You try to sound like you understand, but honestly this is so much different from all the detective shows you’ve seen. Apparently, Agent Hotchner notices and explains more.

 “We catch criminals by analyzing their behavior and trying to predict what they’ll do next.”

 “Like psychology? Nature vs. Nurture and mental disorders?” You ask, suddenly very curious about how this all works.

 “Yes, just like that, although we normally go a little deeper.”

 “So what can you tell about this unsub? That way I know what to look for.” Agent Hotchner seems pleased with this question.

 “The unsub is a man, likely 25-40. Age is the hardest thing to predict, so don’t follow that guideline too strictly. He likely suffers from antisocial personality disorder stemming from negligent parents and has always had trouble interacting with people. He is highly organized, which usually indicates high intelligence, but in this case could be due to the time he spends alone planning. His lack of social skills has resulted in him only working menial jobs. He won’t have worked anywhere for more than a few months before finding a new job since people find him odd or off-putting. He has always felt as though he deserves more because of his self presumed high intelligence. It is possible you met him in passing and any act of kindness toward him resulted in an obsession with you. He doesn’t have the courage to approach you, so he watches from afar or online. That’s how he found his earlier victims. Since you don’t have any shows in the next few weeks, his MO might change slightly. That’s why we want to be so cautious and make sure we can ensure your safety.” You sit quietly for a moment, trying to picture anyone who fits the description. You try to meet the people who work with you, but you certainly don’t know everyone. You were honestly hopeful the description would point you toward a suspect, but you’ve got nothing. “I can’t think of anyone like that, but now I know what to look out for. Thank you Agent Hotchner.” “Please, call me Hotch. Do you have any more questions?”

 “Just one, you said earlier that maintaining a sense of normalcy will prevent us from escalating his plans. What plans exactly?” You were nervous to ask this question, wondering if you really wanted to hear the answer.

 “We don’t know exactly. It is possible the unsub has been trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but since you won’t be doing shows, it is unclear how he would make contact. Reid and the other agents will be looking for anyone who appears to be in a lot of the same places you are. If you notice anyone more than one time in a day, don’t hesitate to-“

“Tell Reid or call one of you. I got it.” You smile at him again. “Thank you again.” He nods as you both exit the room. Spencer isn’t back from picking up clothes yet, so you aren’t sure exactly what to do. Penelope notices you searching the room and waves you over to her. She is talking with Agent Morgan.

 “Y/N! I was just telling my Chocolate Thunder about the song you started earlier. I just need to know, what does this fine specimen inspire you to write?” She sounds so excited you can’t bear to let her down. You study the man in front of you, searching for something to sing. You don’t know why, but there’s a certain sadness in his eye. He hides it well with his masculinity and the clear smirk on his face, but you know he’s been through some shit.

 You don’t want to kill the mood though, so you stick to something a little lighter than past pain. “Well, Pen, I have to say he looks like a heartbreaker.” This only encourages the smirk on his face. “The type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.” You have had a song in the back of your mind for a while so why not break it out now. Penelope shrieks as you start humming, drawing a crowd. Again, you set up your phone to record. The rest of the BAU agents crowd around Morgan’s desk as you start singing.

 “Magic, madness, heaven, sin, saw you there and I thought, oh my god, look at that face. You look like my next mistake.” That draws a few chuckles as you continue humming. More words pop into your head as you think about past relationships and what the media loves to say about celebrities. “Screaming, crying, perfect storms. I can make all the tables turn. Da dada da da, Keep you second guessing like, Oh my god, who is she. I get drunk on jealousy.” You hum some more, really getting into the flow of the song. “Cause darling I’m a nightmare, dressed like a daydream.” The group claps as you end the recording.

 “That was actually pretty impressive.” Agent Morgan smirks at you some more.

 “Well, to be honest I’ve had the melody in my notes for weeks, but I just couldn’t think of the right words.” Yet again, his smirk grows.

 “I guess I’m just that inspirational.” You choke back a laugh as you roll your eyes. You hadn’t realized the size of the crowd you had garnered. You can’t help but knock him down a few pegs.

 “You know what, I changed my mind. Agent Morgan’s song would be called I Knew You Were Trouble.” The entire group laughs at that one, but all the sudden you actually have another idea.

Before long, Penelope is asking you what songs you would write about the entire team.

 “Start with Hotch!”

 “Well, Hotch is so serious. So it’s kind of hard. His face just screams ‘I’ve been through it and dealt it out’. Maybe something like… your string of lights is still bright to see oh, who you are is not what you did, you’re still an innocent.” Even as you half sing it, the one line feels like it could lead somewhere big. It’s not quite right, but it’s a start.

 “That’s so cool. Do me next! And please, just call me Emily.” You nod at her as you think back over your previous interactions.

 “Alright, don’t get mad but something just popped into my head and I can’t un-hear it. They say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good. Most fun I ever had, and I’d do it over and over and over again if I could.” The smile on her face told you everything you needed to know, but so did JJ.

 “You absolutely nailed it. That is Emily to a tee.” JJ chimed in. “I’m kind of scared to see what you can come up with for me!” Your head is swimming with lyrics and melodies, but it has been so long since you’ve had this much fun writing music with a group of people. It’s become such a solo activity for you, but these people just have so many stories to tell.

 “Okay, let me think.” You pause as you observe JJ. You can tell that she is such a sweetheart from the few hours you’ve known her, but you know you would be intimidated if you went to high school with her. “Sorry to be blunt but, you’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face. Cause look at your face.”

 “Why thank you!” JJ smiles as you defend the lyric choice.

 “I know you are so sweet and I of course don’t mean to say you are just a pretty face, but you really do have a pretty face.” The group chuckles again and nods in agreement. “Oh, wait! I’ve got another one. You took a Polaroid of us, then discovered, the rest of the world was black and white. But we were in screaming color.” That one came out of nowhere, but it felt right.

 “Beautiful. Okay, okay! Rossi’s turn!” Penelope says right as the man walks out of his office.

 “My turn for what?” He looks skeptical of the group, but in a loving way.

 “Y/N is coming up with song ideas for everyone! She just did Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and JJ! She did mine earlier. So it’s your turn!”

 “Well then by all means, be my guest.” You close your eyes as you think through the words swimming in your head.

 “While, Rossi, you have a kind aura. You seem like a parent to this group of rowdy children. Reminds me of my dad.” Again, the group laughs. You begin humming, lightly patting the desk in front of you as you think back on memories of your own parents. “I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.” This tune was softer than the rest, more emotional. Everyone stops laughing as they listen to the soft melody you created.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” You feel slightly awkward with the new found silence.

 “Please, bella, that was beautiful. You really know how to read people.” Rossi hugs you as you blush, thanking him for the compliment.

 “That only leaves the resident genius. What would you write about Reid?” JJ poses the question and suddenly all eyes are on you. In all the commotion with the other songs, you didn’t notice Spencer exit the elevator. He walked in soon enough to hear the question. Deciding not to interrupt the conversation, he hangs back to listen to your answer.

 You can feel the blush heating up your face, subconsciously hugging the sweatshirt he gave you to wear earlier. After all the short melodies and lyrics you’ve come up with, you are way too tired to put your feelings toward Spencer into words.

 “I’ll be honest, it’s been in my head all night.” You begin to hum, knowing this would be a song about how you felt when you first saw him backstage, to when you spoke to him in the hospital room and all the little moments since then. “Your eyes whispered have we met…” you fill in for lyrics you’ve yet to write by humming. “All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you.”

 “That was beautiful.” Spencer says from behind you. You jump in surprise, nearly falling out of your chair. You didn’t even realize he was in the room.

 He looks sheepish as he apologizes for scaring you. “Are you ready to go?” He asks, reaching out a hand to help you up. The rest of the profilers share a knowing look as you rise from your seated position. They all wish you a goodnight as you and Spencer enter the elevator to head to your hotel. The ride to the parking garage is quiet. You keep humming that same melody, looking for the right words to fill in the blanks.

 Spencer leads you to another black SUV opening the passenger side door for you to get in the car. He tosses his bag in the back before getting in and starting the drive.

 “Penelope said it was my turn, did you do songs for everyone?” Spencer beaks the silence. You turn in your seat to look at him before responding.

 “Kind of. Mostly just ideas of songs. Morgan’s was the most put together, only because it was a song I already started. I recorded the whole thing though. That way I won’t forget any ideas. I can play it for you when we actually start to write some music!” You are honestly surprised by the range of ideas you have.

 “Wh-what? You actually want me to help you write songs? I th-though that was just a cover.” All of the sudden Spencer seems nervous and shy. You put the ideas swimming through your head on pause so you can devote all your attention to him.

 “Spencer, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come up with any profound lyrics or brand new chord progressions. But, since we are going to be spending a lot of time together, you do have to talk to me. Otherwise it would just be weird.” You try to lighten the mood. You can tell by the way he relaxed his shoulders it worked a little. He nods in agreement as he parks the SUV in the garage dedicated to the hotel you are staying in. You take the elevator straight up to the 11th floor. It’s honestly reassuring to be able to lead him somewhere after everything that happened in the past few hours.

 You dig around in your bag- that somehow followed you on your journey from the arena to the hospital to the FBI building and now back to your hotel- to find the room key. No matter what you try, you can’t seem to slide the key card into the slot in the right way. Every time you try, the little light glows red before beeping indicating the door is still locked. After the fifth try, you are about ready to scream.  

 Suddenly, you can feel the heat from Spencer’s body as he slides up behind you to take the room key. He slides the card into the door, wiggles it around, and then slides it back out. To your surprise, the light glows green and the door unlocks. You must be exhausted to be this shocked at the fact he opened the door. You can’t even seem to force your feet to move. You just stand there like a fool, mouth agape.

 “Why?” Spencer turns to look at you with a confused expression. “Why couldn’t I… How did you…?” You just point to the door. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the room. He places his bag just inside the door before he turns around to close the door and lock the deadbolt.

 Even after he led you into the room, you turned around so you could keep staring at the door. You don’t even realize you started crying. Spencer guides you to the bed and tucks you into the blankets. You know that you are going to wake up in an hour because you never sleep in pants, but you just don’t have the energy to fight him on it. He turns off the lamp, but before he walks away, you grab his arm.

 “Can you stay?” You have never heard yourself sound so frail. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. Spencer looks conflicted, but ultimately sits down next to you, his back against the headboard. You lay next to him in the dark, not quite touching. Once your breathe calms enough that you can talk without bursting into tears, you ask “how do you do it?”

 “Do what?” You smile at the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

 “How do you deal with this kind of stuff all the time? I feel like I’m falling apart. I want to be strong about it, so I can help. But then all of the sudden I can’t keep it in anymore. I just… how do you make it seem so easy?” You feel sniffly again, but you try to focus on your breathing.

 “It’s not easy. I hope it never becomes easy. It’s gotten easier, of course, but the minute I stop feeling everything is the moment I let them win. To feel pain in situations like this is human. Somebody wise once told me our best defense is our ability to empathize. It’s a completely natural reaction to experiencing something so traumatic. 70% of adults in the U.S. have experienced some type of traumatic event at least once in their lives. That's 223.4 million people. It would be...” He trailed off.

 “It would be what?” You angled your head up to look at him even though you couldn’t see him in the dark.

 “Oh, it’s nothing. I tend to ramble. I’m sorry.” He sounded so dejected, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for his hand. You had to shift on the bed a bit to reach his arm, so you ended up leaning your cheek against his thigh, tossing your arm over his lap in a sort of make shift hug.

 “I like it. It’s calming… and informative.” You couldn’t help but smile into his leg. “People who complain are just jealous.” That actually makes him laugh, but it doesn’t sound like a happy kind of laugh. More like a self-deprecating one. “I’m serious. You are clearly smarter than everyone else is, and you are sneaky attractive. There is a lot to be jealous about.” You dig deeper into his lap as you squeeze his hand in yours. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Spencer running his free hand through your hair.

--

You wake up slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark. You can just make out the numbers on the bedside clock to be 4:37. You must have fallen asleep talking to Spencer. Your head was still resting on his lap, his hand in your hair. You untangle yourself from the sheets to rid yourself of the extra layers that woke you up. It takes a few minutes of digging around in the dark to find one of the t-shirts you normally sleep in. In that amount of time, Spencer, still sleeping, rearranged himself to be laying on the bed rather than leaning against the headboard. You stopped for a minute to observe his sleeping form. He looks so at peace compared to the furrow of his brow and the glint in his eye that normally mean he’s thinking too hard.

 As soon as you lay back down in the bed, Spencer gravitates toward you. Before long, your head is resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You breathe in the scent of vanilla and new books; the rhythmic pattern of his chest rising and falling lulls you back to sleep.

Part 2

tag list:

@mac99martin

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 18

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Book: TRR AU

Warnings: Language, crude talk, and the usual bad writing.

I had planned from the beginning to end this series after the next chapter and an epilogue, but call me crazy, I love it too much. So while this part of the story will end, I still plan to update with one-shots or stories from time to time. If you’re just done with it, let me know.

Also, this chapter felt a little off to me, so I apologize if it's terrible, but I think I ended on a good note.

Thanks @burnsoslow for prereading.and usage of your girl, who finally got to make her debut.

---------------------------------

"Damn it, Riley! Pick up!" Liam grumbled as he lowered the cell phone from his ear and tossed it in the seat beside him. The royal jet had been in the air for a little over four hours already, and he'd grown frustrated at getting her voice mail each time. Surely, she was home by now. 

Even though it was the middle of the night in Las Vegas, it was worth interrupting her. He had tried unsuccessfully to contact Riley since he packed his bags earlier and hastily headed for the airstrip. By this point, there must have been a dozen or so messages left on her phone without so much as a hint she'd gotten them. 

While time wasn't an issue -- he'd get to Las Vegas one way or the other -- it was the desperation to hear from his new wife and tell her he knew precisely why she left. 

And that he loved her.

Tilting his head back against the headrest, he swiveled side-to-side in his luxury chair while tightly clutching his freshly poured scotch. The security footage he watched earlier that morning replayed in his mind again. There were no doubts about what it showed: Madeleine confronted Riley outside their quarters just minutes after leaving the ball. Without sound, however, no one could ascertain specifically what was said among the two women. It was clear though,  Riley was not a willing participant in that conversation. When they saw the disk held up in the Countess' hands, and the look of sheer horror on his pussycat's face, that told Liam all he needed to know. This was a blackmail situation, plain and simple, that included assault; those flowers he found scattered on the ground when he returned to his quarters last night all made sense now. This act was deliberate and treasonous, and Liam would ensure his ex-fiancee paid handsomely for it. 

After they viewed the footage several more times, the Royal Guard was immediately summoned to Krona to find Madeleine and take her into custody. Liam knew it was a long shot whether his guards could pull that sting off, but he was working with what he had at the moment.

Despite whatever happened next, there was one thing the King was confident of: He was prepared to give up his entire Kingdom to get his girl back. Returning to Cordonia without her was not an option.

Shaking his tumbler of partially melted ice cubes, Liam leaned forward and steadily poured another bottle of scotch into his glass. As soon as he sat back and raised the fresh beverage to his lips, he was startled by the ringing of his cell phone. In a rush to answer, he hastily set the drink aside and snatched his phone up from where he tossed it earlier. 

"Hello! Love?" He answered, hopeful it was her.

"Hey, little brother. Love you too ... Say, do you know if the palace has a Spanish tickler or a breast ripper? Asking for a friend."

Liam furrowed his brows in confusion before rising from his seat, plopping a knee down on its cushioned bottom, and glancing to the back of the plane. "Leo? Why are you calling me? We're on the same damn plane. I'm looking right at you."

"Nevermind that. Listen, I figured out a way to take care of Madeleine once and for all. Behold ..." Leo held up a leather-bound book and waved it over his head while Liam squinted from the front of the plane to get a better look. "... The King Constantine Guide To Fucking Torture In The 21st Century; Father gave it to me after my investiture ceremony. The way I see it, there really is no other option here than to tie her to a tree in front of the palace, invite the public to watch for a modest fee, and do some cool shit with iron rods and spikes. I got dibs on the knee-splitter, though."

"Leo ..." Liam began to warn his brother how ridiculous that plan was before stopping himself and staring off into the distance for a moment in thought. "Wait ... is there anything about flaying in that book?"

"Hell yeah there is! And if you're interested in thumbscrews, my buddy, Pete, has a trunk full of them. He uses them for ass play, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind letting us borrow them to split Maddie's thumbs in half." Leo let out a maniacal laugh.

Liam chuckled, despite the peculiarity of the conversation. "I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm not interested -- to the contrary, actually. And while I appreciate your help in seeing that Madeleine is brought to justice, I think we better stick to more lawful means."

"Boo, you whore!" The line went dead with a click. 

Liam held the phone away from his ear, watching Leo sink down into his chair in a huff. "Really?" He called back in agitation. Met with the silent treatment and a middle finger from his disgruntled brother, Liam rolled his eyes, then slumped back down into his seat. Maybe he'd try to call Riley again.

-------------

The phone on Riley's nightstand buzzed again. She knew it was another call from Liam, and while she felt remorseful for ignoring all of his calls and texts, she couldn't bring herself to look at or answer them quite yet. The sooner all ties between them were broken, she believed, the quicker he could forget all about her and the mess she made of everything. 

But even her willpower was slipping. Riley slid her hand out from under the pillow and reached over to pick up her phone. Holding it to her chest, she contemplated for a second just reading his texts and returning his calls, but Madeleine had warned to end all contact with him. Obviously, she was curious about what he had to say, but it was too risky. I'm so sorry, Liam. 

Hitting the power button on her cell, the light on the device faded to black before she tossed it in the nightstand drawer.

Early the next morning, Riley's eyes flickered open to the sound of a banging on her front door, followed by the incessant ringing of her doorbell. Feeling exhausted from a lack of sleep, mainly because of crying and unable to think about anything other than how she hurt Liam, Riley decided to ignore it. She just wanted to be left alone, and eventually, they'd give up and leave, right?

Except they didn't.

Annoyed, she let out a sigh and then eased herself up out of bed; the pain in her back was still a problem. Tossing a robe over her body, she slowly made her way down the stairs of her townhome -- each step excruciating -- until she finally made it to the door.

Twisting the lock, she opened the entry door, before letting out a sudden gasp at the tearful person standing on the other side. 

"Oh my God, Riley! Y-You're alive! You're really alive!"

"Alyssa?" Riley's best friend from New York pulled her into a relieved hug, nearly sobbing at that point. "What're you doing here?"

"I thought something terrible happened to you, but now that I can see you're still among the living ..." she sniffled before pulling back and narrowing her blazing blue eyes at her friend. "Where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you ever since you texted me that you were boarding a plane in Cordonia, and that something serious happened involving Tyler. You promised me you'd call as soon as you landed--"

"I know. I'm so sorry. It was late ..."

 " -- and you didn't. Then I worried, even more, when you didn't answer any of my calls back. I had to book the first red-eye flight here to make sure you were all right." Finished with her rant, a huffing Alyssa's jaw immediately clenched. "Now, what did that shithead ex of yours do? I'll kill him if he hurt you, Ri. I might be small, but I'm scrappy like an alleycat. You know I'll claw his eyes out."

Riley let out a light chuckle; Alyssa was always overprotective of her and had a clever way with words, but quickly, that chuckle faded into a teary frown. "Oh, Lyss," she whimpered as her face fell into her hands.

Alyssa quickly wrapped her arms around Riley and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Aww, Riley. Sweetie, it's going to be okay," she soothed. 

Stepping inside, Alyssa kicked the door shut and led them both over to the sofa. Sensing Riley was in pain -- and not just emotional -- she helped lower her troubled best friend onto the couch. "I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

The best friends had remained in contact over the last several weeks. It was Alyssa's frantic morning phone call over a month ago that alerted Riley to the news coverage of her impromptu marriage to Liam, having saw it on the news. 

And while Alyssa was aware of everything about Cordonia and Liam, and how Riley fit into all that from their prior conversations, she listened intently while it was revealed to her the details of the incident with Madeleine and the video her ex-husband gave to the Countess.  

Grabbing a tissue from the end table, Alyssa handed it to Riley. "So this cow confronted you with that disgusting video and basically blackmailed you into leaving, or she would release it to the press?" Riley nodded somberly.."Ugh, I want this treasonous bitch thrown in the dungeon, subjected to live-streamed daily anal fistings with giant Hulk gloves ... And Tyler, I want to break every bone in his rotten body, one at a time. And I want to leave him there afterwards, dripping just enough water on his lips, so he doesn't die of dehydration, screaming in agony for the weeks it will take to die of starvation."

 Riley's face scrunched up. "God, Alyssa."

Alyssa shrugged. "What? I don't care; it's what they deserve for hurting you. Did you at least tell Liam what happened?"

This time, Riley shook her head. "No. Madeleine warned me if I told him, she would release the video, and then the council would likely force him to step down. I won't allow him to lose everything for someone like me." 

Irritated, Alyssa pressed a palm to her forehead. "Why are you like this?"

"Like, what?" Riley asked in exasperation.

"That whole, 'someone like me,' part. He wanted to stay married to you. He made you the queen of his country. You've said he couldn't keep his goddamn hands off you for two seconds. And more importantly, you told me you have never felt more loved in your life, than you do when you're with him. The fact that you still question your worthiness to him blows my mind." 

Alyssa reached for Riley's shaky hand, able to tell by the tears sliding down her cheeks and the soft whimpers that she'd touched on something. "You're his pussycat, Riley. Liam already lost everything when you left him. Tell me you know that."

Riley wiped at her face., her voice stifled, "I just wanted to protect him."

"I know." Alyssa smiled softly. "But you needed to give him the chance to decide what he wanted. You made it for him because you know he'd choose you, regardless if he lost everything else; that's how much he loves you, Ri. You can't protect someone who loves you by hurting them. Besides, he's the King; he can simply execute the council if he wants to -- Liam’s not going anywhere."

"You just HAD to add that last part in, didn't you?" Riley laughed, feeling a sense of ease as her mood lightened. It felt good to talk to someone who could help her make sense of everything and realize she hadn’t exactly made the best call by leaving and not telling Liam what happened. "But what do I do about this video? What if Madeleine releases it to the public?"

"Yeah, a video of a married woman having sex with her husband -- Oh, the shame!" she retorted. "Look, you'll be famous on Pornhub for a few weeks, and it'll fizzle out. I know that doesn't make it all better, but you have a lot of people who love you ... we'll be there for you if that happens. Besides, it's Gonzo Dick; I doubt anyone will wanna watch anyway."

Riley snorted out at the nickname she gave her ex-husband. "Stop making me laugh." 

Alyssa cracked a grin. "Nah. If I can make you laugh at that asshole's expense and his crooked dick, then it's worth it."

"Well,” she breathed, “ I suppose I should get dressed and call Liam. Tell him what happened, and hopefully, he'll … forgive .." her voice trailed off at tasting an increasing collection of bile in her throat and a familiar rumble in her stomach. 

“What’s wrong?”

Riley frowned. "Damn it, why do I keep getting sick?"  

After rushing to the bathroom with Alyssa's help, Riley came out moments later, flushed and perspiring. Alyssa, who waited outside the door to make sure she was all right, eyed her friend with grave concern. "Ri, are you sure you don't have a concussion? You said that Madeleine caused you to fall, and you complained you’ve been getting sick a lot. Is there any chance you hit your head too?"

Riley considered for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so. I mean, it all happened so fast I don't really remember, but my head doesn't hurt."

"OH NO! You have memory loss too, on top of the vomiting and a hurt back? Riley, you need to go to the hospital now. This is serious."

"Alyssa, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital," Riley dismissed and hobbled past her friend toward the kitchen. "You always worry too much."

Alyssa followed behind her, brows bumped together in a scowl. "Because you're a stubborn ass who never listens, that's why. You need to get checked out," she insisted. Riley paid no attention as made her way to the fridge; that reaction only served to piss Alyssa off. "You can ignore me all you want, but you know as well as I do, I'll just keep annoying the hell out of you until you do it … I'll sing every Dave Matthews song ever written -- On repeat." 

Riley shut the fridge door and turned at the threat, giving her a dismayed glare. "You wouldn't." 

Alyssa tilted her chin. "You know damn well I would. I have... so much to say, so much to say, so much --"

"Please stop! I'm going."

---------

At Valley Hospital and Medical Center, Drake sat slumped down in the waiting room of the E.R;  a thawed ice pack covered his crotch. His increasingly irritated self caught sight of a nurse escorting yet another patient back for examination. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Tired of waiting, he cast the ice pack aside and marched straddle-legged to the triage desk where a beefy nurse with a scowl sat filing her nails. "How much longer is this gonna take?" He demanded bitterly.

The nurse remained focused on her nails and answered in a careless fashion. "You'll get called back when it's your turn, Mr. Walker."

"My turn? MY TURN? I've been here for 15 fucking hours waiting for my turn. I've watched one person after the next walk right in, get treated, and leave. Whose ass do I actually have to lick to get treatment around here?"

Unimpressed with his theatrics, she folded her arms on the desk and looked up at Drake with a glower. "Look. You got kicked in the wang by a hooker. Shit happens. It's not the end of the world. Go home, have a beer, and a good laugh. You'll live." She resumed her filing.

Drake ran both hands through his rumpled hair, letting out a sardonic laugh. "I cannot fucking believe you just said that to me. I suffer trauma on my transplanted dick, and the greatest healthcare minds in the world tell me to have a beer and laugh about it?" his voice shrieked.

The nurse blew on her nails. "That's what I said."

That snarky remark sent him even further over the edge. A red-faced Drake pounded two white-knuckled fists on the desk and leaned down into her space. "Now you listen here, lady. I demand to be seen right now, or so help me, I'll tear this whole goddamn place apart brick-by-fucking-brick! Do you understand me?"

Having none of that, the nurse, who was several inches taller than a startled Drake expected, sprung for her chair and loomed over him menacingly. Drake flinched when she rammed the nail file at him and threatened, "Now, you listen.You can either sit your ass down, or I will sit you down. Do you understand me?"

He didn't understand. He would never understand.

A security guard who heard the commotion casually approached the agitated pair and placed a firm hold on Drake's elbow. "Do we have a problem here, Betty Lou?"

She shook her head, sizing Drake up. "No, just some whiny-ass Karen griping about his dick."

---------------

Several moments later, Alyssa and Riley exited an Uber and wandered into the waiting area, making their way up to the triage line -- or what they thought was a line. It was actually Drake still standing there, continuing to protest his case to anyone who would listen and demanding to speak to someone in charge.

While Riley dug through her purse to retrieve her health insurance card, Alyssa couldn't help but be taken in by the fiery debacle taking place in front of them. She inched a little closer, unable to help herself; it was good drama and sucked her right in. 

Catching a glimpse of Drake’s sour face, she cocked her head introspectively; there was something oddly familiar about the man in the denim shirt going off. Alyssa tapped her chin. Where have I seen him before?  

Before long, the realization set in, and her eyes snapped wide open. She nudged Riley with an elbow and leaned over, whispering, "Hey, isn't that the guy from the news who had the penis transplant? It looks just like him."

Knowing precisely who that was by the description, Riley popped her head up to look. She hadn't known Drake well, only that he was Liam's best friend, and after having spent time together on the plane ride to Cordonia with him, that her maid-of-honor had given him several venereal diseases. "Drake?" she called out.

While Alyssa zoned in on his groin, curious as to what was in there, Drake broke away from the dispute and turned his focus toward the familiar-sounding voice. She was a connection to home and a long-sought-after friendly face. "Riley? Liam's insta-bride, Riley?" 

She let out a light chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's how you would know me ... What are you doing at the hospital? Is your body rejecting the ..." Her embarrassed gaze dropped lower with a gulp. " ... thing?"

"No!" he barked. "I just got attacked by that ... uh, someone."

"You got attacked?" Shocked, Riley placed a hand over her chest. "Why would someone attack you? Are you okay?"

Feeling incensed by the memory, Drake shook his head and muttered. "It's a long story ... What about you? What are you doing here? Thought you were in Cordonia with Liam?"

She inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils and forced a smile. "It's a long story too."

Drake peeked over his shoulder at Nurse Ratchet, giving him a gimlet-eyed stare from behind her computer screen. He groused and turned to face Riley again. "I've got time."

----------------

Nearly 12 hours after takeoff, the royal jet touched down in sunny Las Vegas, an hour ahead of schedule. Liam and Leo stepped off the plane and strolled across the tarmac to the awaiting vehicle, where a smiling man held the rear passenger door open.

"Bastien," Liam greeted as he approached. "Good to see you again."

"Your Majesty." He bowed. "Likewise ... I have the rental car you requested, and the Queen's address is already programmed into the GPS. Should take no more than 30 minutes to get there."

"Perfect,” he replied, clapping Bastien’s shoulder.“Thanks for having everything ready to go."

Liam had contacted the head guard -- who was still jailed for non-support -- and gained him a day-long pass to provide security detail. Bastien was also to stay in contact with his guards to oversee the capture and detainment of Madeleine.

Bastien took their bags, and the brothers hopped into the back of the Escalade. Once they pulled away from the airport, the directions led the group west. The head guard glanced briefly in the rearview mirror as he drove on. “I want to thank you for giving me a second chance. It’s nice to be out of that place, even if just for the day.”

Liam smiled back. “Not a problem, good man. I can’t think of anyone else I trust more for the job than you … though I’m not sure why. Anyway, do you have any updates on the Madeleine situation?”

“Yes, sir. I contacted my colleagues again just before you arrived. Countess Madeleine was taken by surprise when our guards arrived at her family estate in Krona. Once in custody, she was immediately transported to Valtoria for detention, exactly as you requested.”

"That's terrific news ... Wait ...Did you say, Valtoria?" Liam asked with puzzlement in his tone. 

"Yes, sir. As you requested." 

"Man, please tell me Mads tried to fight them off, and they had to use the taser on her," Leo insisted as he held his crossed fingers in the air. "A billy club ... a rubber hose ... something."

"There may have been a brief verbal exchange and some threats, but the Countess promised if they permitted access to her computer to send a quick email, she would go with them peacefully and without further protest. There didn't seem to be any harm in doing so, and she followed through with her word. Sorry to break it to you, Prince Leo, but no tasers were harmed in her capture."

"Well, fiddle shit." Leo glanced over at his brother --who was still scratching his head -- in disappointment. "If only I'd been able to get that shock collar on her while I was engaged to her, you wouldn't be in this mess right now. She just squirmed too much. I’m sorry I let you down, little brother."

"It's fine, Leo; it's not the first time,”  Liam said dryly before turning his head away from Leo to face the front again. "Can we get back to Madeleine being taken to Valtoria? I never requested that. An accused of the Crown is always placed in the palace dungeon. There aren't even cells in Valtoria to hold her in. What am I missing here?"

Approaching a stoplight, Bastien lightly pressed the brakes, then met Liam’s gaze in the mirror. “The orders I was given to pass along to the guards from you earlier were clear in your text: Once she’s taken into custody, she is to be sent to Valtoria and placed in the cage with the monkey until further notice. That’s what they --”

“Mongo! They put her in the cage with Mongo?” Liam exploded before pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no point in asking how that message got mixed up. “Goddamn it, Leo! Why are you, you, sometimes?” He ran a swift hand down his face and turned to glare at his brother. “Do you realize they consider that cruel and unusual punishment? Did you ever stop to consider how much shit I'm going to hear over this if this gets out?" He let out a sharp breath and threw his hands in the air."How? How did you do it?"

"It's simple pimple, Liam. When you went to the bathroom, I grabbed your phone," he replied bluntly with a shrug. "And according to page 24 of Father's torture book: It's not considered cruel and unusual punishment, as long as she has food, water, and clean shelter -- which she does. Or ... if she's housed with a member of the royal family -- which she is. Mongo is the heir to the throne, so we've got that covered too. So just relax, little bro; Leo’s got it all taken care of for you."

Liam dropped his chin to his chest, then let out a weary breath. “Bastien, call the guards and have them move her to the palace at once.” 

As Bastien placed the call, Liam shifted in his seat so that he was staring out the window. He put a palm over his mouth to conceal the curved lips that formed a devilish grin, trying to contain the unbearable urge to bust out laughing. Oh, Maddie ... I hope you and Mongo had one hell of a time together.

----------------

Back at the hospital, Riley situated herself on the gurney while a nurse prepared to check her vitals and ask general health questions. 

In the next bay over, separated by a thin sliding curtain, Drake was finally attended to after Riley reluctantly, but willfully, played up her celebrity status. Once she threatened to have the hospital shut down -- which she doubted was even possible on her end -- the proverbial red carpet was rolled out for both of them; she was still a queen, afterall. 

Steps were then taken to ensure they both received the royal treatment, so to speak. That wasn’t typically how Riley preferred to handle situations; she hated big fusses over her. But in the end, she did help one of Liam’s oldest friends finally get the medical attention he needed, so it was worth trying. 

The blood pressure cuff on Riley’s arm squeezed tighter just as one of the doctors stepped inside and slid the curtain all the way closed. His cheerful greeting drew Riley's fixed gaze away from the changing numbers on the monitor beside her bed, and she smiled up at him.

The doctor was tall and thin, with thick spectacles perched near the tip of his nose. He gave a brief nod to Alyssa, who was sitting in a chair at Riley’s bedside, rubbing her shoulder. Scanning the patient chart, he spoke without looking up, "Queen Riley, it says here you suffered a fall?"

"I'm just Riley,  please," she requested.

The doctor looked up from the paperwork and nodded with an understanding smile. "Of course." 

After the initial exam concluded, Alyssa remained behind after the doctor ordered x-rays and transport had wheeled Riley down to radiology. 

Bouncing her crossed leg as she scrolled through her phone, Alyssa tried to bide her time until Riley returned. An air conditioning vent overhead that she didn’t realize drowned out so much noise around her, suddenly flipped off. Able to catch the conversation on the other side of the curtain better, she listened with a broken heart as Drake reluctantly described to an attending, the worst days of his life. Alyssa shuddered as he recalled the moment his penis fell off, rolled across the bed, and dropped onto Ethan Ramsey’s leather shoe during an exam. “That poor man. I just want to hug him,” she muttered.

Her little ears perked when the doctor mentioned he was “going to have a look at it.” In her curious mind, there were no doubts that she was too. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a peek at the first transplant of its kind; no way was she going to miss out on that. 

Alyssa slid to the edge of her seat and raised her hand to up to the curtain, easing a tiny portion of it aside. Her blue eyes crinkled with frustration at a nurse who was blocking her view. “Move your ass,” she whispered to herself.

Unable to get a good view, she gave up that spot and eyed the other opening in the curtain at the far end of the room. Sliding off her chair to a crouching position on the floor, Alyssa crab-walked as fast as she could without falling off balance until she made it to the other side. Crooking a stealthy finger along the seam of the curtain, she hoped and prayed Drake’s genital exam wasn’t through yet. What her eyes saw on that gurney when she pulled the fabric aside caused her heart to jolt out of her chest. 

Alyssa cupped a hand over her gaping mouth before stepping back and letting the curtain fall loosely shut again.  Dropping her hand limply at her side, staring blankly at nothing, she mouthed, “Oh. My. God.”

----------------

Down in the radiology department, Riley sat patiently in her wheelchair, waiting for the tech to return to take the x-rays. Enjoying the lighter feeling of having an empty bladder again, she let out a contented sigh; she was about to bust earlier. That mandatory urine sample couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. 

Left alone to ruminate in her thoughts, Riley wondered about those phone calls she ignored last night from Liam. The regret she felt over her actions the last 26 hours continued to mount up. And it took a heart-to-heart with her best friend to really put things into perspective. Her decisions weren’t the best course to take, even if they were done with the most loving of intentions. 

There was a lot to make up to Liam, and she only hoped that it wasn’t too late. Could he even forgive her for all of it?

She wished he was there with her right now. If she knew him the way she thought she did, he’d be standing around telling inappropriate jokes to make her laugh or embarrass her with his silly antics. It was like Liam could be two different people sometimes: Kingly and stoic around everyone else, but the second it was just him alone with her, he was such a big kid. Somehow, she could bring out his true self; the one where he felt comfortable enough to be silly and playful. And as much as she tried to play them off, those little pet names he gave her -- she chuckled to herself as they popped into her head -- were funny. What the hell even was a knucklehead mcspazzatron? 

“Miss Brooks” Riley shook herself of her thoughts as the x-ray tech returned and made her way over. “I apologize that took so long.”

Riley smiled up at her. “No need to apologize… Are you ready for me now?”

“Not exactly,” she teased in such a cheery tone, Riley slightly lowered her eyelids, holding her gaze. “You most likely won’t be getting x-rays today, sweetie.” She held a fisted hand out to Riley and opened her palm to reveal the small object inside. “You’re pregnant.”

--------------------

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[myelocin]

ten days, ten years | miya a.

Synopsis: This is the kind of real that’s yours and his. 

Genre: Fluff, Domestic | WC: 1500+

Characters: Miya Atsumu

A/N: this is a commisioned piece by @hvnlydmn <33

real estate - adam melchor

commissions

“So this is it,” said, with a voice signaling finality rather than a question.

Atsumu looks over the empty space of a house that was just in the market a few weeks ago, boxes stacked in the corners by the walls, and smiles. You peer at him from across the room, car keys in your hand while the set for the house are in his.

“This is it,” he says again, and when he peers at you, eyes making his message known before words could even attempt to do it justice, you soften.

There’s a lot of definitions that come with describing what’s real, but yours comes along looking like this.  

Real refers to Miya Atsumu and a history that’s you, and him. It’s the moments away from the limelight—his limelight—where he snorts at a couple jokes a little louder than how his manager would have appreciated. The tiny scribbles on the corner of the receipt; starting out as just a line before he’d eventually spiral and connect circles to dots, and little swirls until he’s covered half of the paper’s surface. It’s watching him on the screen, hair slicked up, and parted in just the right way, his control like it’s practically second nature, and his eyes as smooth as the words a person other than you would never be able to tell is practiced.

Because that’s who he is outside of here. (Outside of this.)

Practice interviews, the face on a billboard, and the child next door’s role model.

Real, on the other hand, is the present. Real is the face you wake up next to every morning, drool on the corner of his lips, where you still catch yourself thinking that you could never love anyone more than you do him. The black roots of his hair that grow out much faster than yours, and the way he leans in close to let you clip back his bangs that get in the way of his eyes natural.

It’s him blinking at you; hazel eyes like two pools of chocolate in any kind of lighting, the freckles on his cheeks a sight only you get to see because of how faint they are from a far. The scar on his cheek that you know the story of, healed and barely there; though you still make it a habit to leave kiss on its surface just because.

Real, is defined as the arguments that come and go; sometimes big, sometimes small, but always resolved long before the sun would set. Backs that are never turned from each other when the time came to sleep, because he knows sleep would never find you well unless his forehead was pressed against yours.

Real, like the keys on his hand and the wood floors of what you both would eventually call your forever home. The proof of the years that’s passed etched into the photographs within the first few pages of an album, while the spaces after it are left blank for the purpose of storing the memories of the years that are sure to come.

For now it’s just Atsumu’s fluffy slippers next to yours, and one framed photo of the two of you hung lopsided by the door because he insisted on hanging it up as soon as he entered, but it fits. Little by little the house that was just on the market a few weeks ago is beginning to feel like home.

“So this is it,” you say this time, because it truly is.

You cross the room and settle with standing beside him, his shoulder beside yours, in his eyes a hello. Atsumu smiles at you, then at the lopsided frame before he drops the keys on the makeshift bowl he found in the back of his car. He smirked at his discovery, and to be fair you did too—even though you knew it was something he swiped from his brother’s restaurant just a few days ago.

But it fits right in, you think.

A little black bowl with the familiar logo inked on the side, placed on top of one of the boxes that were sealed shut from the place it left with the intention to be opened within the walls of a new home. A forever home.

Something in his heart bursts at the realizations that something as little as opening boxes and hanging picture frames is what turns a house into a home.

“Do you see it?” he asks you in a sudden, his voice tender.

You hum out the voice of your curiosity, quirking an eyebrow in his direction as you turn to face him.

“See, it?” you question, when Atsumu decides to keep his silence.

He turns to you, flashing you a quick grin before he pads to the center of the room, hands on his waist as he continues to stare at the framed photograph that still is hanging crooked on the wall. But it fits, the voice in your head says, and in a way you suppose that it really does.

Imperfections within a love that feels perfect. Atsumu’s black roots coming in again, and the tag of his shirt poking out from his back. Your keychain with the little pizza man missing half an arm, but you keep it anyway because it was Atsumu’s first gift to you all those years ago. His pants fitting him just right, but the zipper of his fly halfway opened.

You snicker when he groans at you pointing it out, but he thinks that the sound of your laughter makes this house feel even more like home.

“I really see it, Ains,” he tells you again after a moment shared in laughter. The happiness that trails from it lingers, like it’s always done, and the word forever feels even more real.

He holds his hand out for you to take when you walk towards him, feet bare under the cool wooden floors, and he’s smiling. Atsumu’s more than in love, and he’s smiling because your hand snug against his feels like that puzzle piece that finally pieces the whole picture together.

You look at him, bathing in the comfort of the silence plus his few words; just the sounds of his breathing and the life that continues to move outside sounding like music instead of noise.

Atsumu pulls you towards him, spins you in the way that has you laughing at the silliness of it all, before he pulls you back again, your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. The crooked frame stares back at you, the two faces captured within it smiling, so you do the same.

“I see us here,” he begins.

“Ten days, and the boxes will be half emptied out. The couch will probably come in and maybe some more furniture, but we’ll have somewhere to sit,” he continues, and so the smile on your face remains.

“Ten months and the plant that Samu gave us will probably be dead,” he laughs, which prompts you into doing the same, your hands quick to give his arm that’s locked around your waist a little squeeze.

“That’s on you if you don’t water it,” you snort, craning your neck to face him and reaching up to pinch his cheek.

He rolls his eyes, gives you a laugh that sounds like all the sounds of love—of real love, before spins you again, first repositioning your hands so they rest on his shoulder while his settle on the dip of your waist.

“Then ten years later, I see little versions of me running around here,” Atsumu laughs, his eyes crinkling.

“Why versions of you?” you rebut with a laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through the strands of bleach blonde and black on the back of his head. “Why not me?”

Atsumu pokes out his tongue, puffing his chest out as he says, “Obviously me, because my better genes are superior.”

In exaggerated dramatics, you sigh, thumb reaching out to rub at the skin on his nape. He leans in, as if it’s a reflex, and you smile at the way everything just slides into place with each other.

“The Miya genes really are good right?” you sigh. “Should have gotten with Samu though,” you continue, looking away with an exaggerated huff. “He always was the cuter twin.”

Atsumu makes a show of pinching your sides, though only soft enough just to kick start a laughing fit. “Oi.”

You poke his cheek, leaning up then forward to press a kiss on the tips of his nose. “I see us too,” you say.”

“But it’s more like I see you every day. I see you leaving a sock there, and throwing your underwear three feet away from the laundry basket, and your bajillion cups of pudding in the fridge.”

Atsumu smiles, because he knows that love can be this too.

“I see us tonight,” he says. “Probably sitting on the floor because the furniture’s not here yet, and you’ll be picking out the vegetables in the pizza and putting it on my plate instead.”

“It wouldn’t happen if you just got the damn meat lover’s special,” you comment with a laugh.

“But it still works right?” He asks, pinching yours sides again. “We always have a way of working out right?”

You think about the road the both of you walked to on your own before you got here. The movie nights under the blankets, where if anything it was just you accompanying him so he could watch replays before a game. Atsumu’s laughter that booms before it echoes as if it’s screamed, then placed in contrast next to how he loves in silence, and gentleness.

“We always work, Tsumu,” you reassure. “That’s why we’re here now.”

“—because we’ll still be here ten years later,” he finishes for you, and you smile.

You suppose you can’t disagree with that; more than anyone—you see your world ten years later with him too.

[rosy-cheekx]

Alone Again, Naturally

Three times Martin should have called for help.

(I twisted my ankle on Sunday and was bummed bc I missed my partner so…this happened…oops.)

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1.

Martin’s phone was missing, though he was pretty sure he knew where it was. That thing, that wormy, writhing mass of a woman had it. Destroyed it. His only chance of rescue from this nightmare. Replaying the image of dropping the phone, abandoning it as he ran, would do him no good. His coworkers hadn’t noticed he was missing, or if they had noticed, they hadn’t stopped by. And they shouldn't, of course, it would only put them in danger. But still, it stung a bit, to know that he’d been gone for what, three days now? and no one cared.

He could become a statement from this, Martin realized, his death narrated in Jon’s smooth, clipped voice, and then they would finally learn what happened to that large, oafish researcher who was transferred to the archives with them and disappeared overnight.

Martin sighed through his nose noisily, as if he could expel the dark thoughts with the sound. “Christ, Blackwood. Getting awful morbid there.” Talking to himself had become a staple of his isolation. For one, it drowned out the ever-present knocking on the door and the squelching rustle of the worms. He honestly wasn’t sure whether the sounds were still real or if they had become such a constant that his brain just filled them in anyways.

His voice was the only other sound available to him with his computer not working and his phone gone. His clock radio had played static on every channel, and he had been grateful for the white noise at first. But the longer Martin left the radio on, the sound began to morph from the hissing of dead air to a choir, indecipherable and haunting. There were no words and yet he could understand the message: come home to us. We need you, we miss you, let us show you how much we love you. With us, you’ll never feel lonely again, we promise. Martin had come to, hand on the doorknob to his flat, radio in hand. After that, he had removed all the batteries from anything that could make noise. Since then, he could only trust his own voice; everything else was a trap.

The can opener, unfortunately, had been electric too. He had been so proud of his purchase, a real attempt at adult cooking. (He never seemed to use the manual ones and could never get the grip right.) With the power out, assumedly caused by Prentiss, he had to get creative when it came to “making dinner.” For Martin, this meant sawing open a tin can with a serrated knife, eating it with a fork, and praying no metal shavings were lurking in each mouthful. Tonight’s feast: another can of tinned green beans and the last can of pineapple. He didn’t even like green beans, why had he ever bought these?

Martin gritted himself against the awful sound of metal on metal as he cut into a tin of beans, hissing sharply through his teeth and letting his mind wander. Maybe he could strain the beans? Let them dry? It would probably be better than the wet and soggy mush he was bound to find. Maybe he could put some crackers on them for a crunch? Pretend it’s a bad soup? As he was finishing his indelicate surgery, Martin tipped the can into the sink a little, hoping to strain the bean juice and improve the meal even a little. As he removed the last of the lid, he saw it.

There, in the sink, wiggling its way out of the drain. Another worm. Martin shrieked and jumped back, dropping the can in the sink with a clatter. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and began to stuff them down the sink, plugging up the drain as best he could. For extra measure, he plugged the faucet as well, suddenly terrified of accidentally swallowing one in a glass of water. Once the adrenaline rush had passed, Martin felt it: a stinging in his palm. They must have jumped at him, must have bitten him. It would be over soon, he knew it. He would be like Prentiss, a mass of tiny bodies. He braced himself to feel something, but nothing changed. Martin frowned, chewing on his lip in confusion, and hazarded a glance down to his hand. There was no worm in his palm, nothing wriggling and biting deep into his muscle, just a slice along the flesh of his thumb, dripping blood from where he must have cut himself on the tin can.

Sheepishly, Martin rolled his eyes at his defeatism. Did it hurt like hell? Yes. But he wasn’t going to become a worm monster. Not today. Grabbing a few more sheets of paper towel, Martin hissed in pain as he pressed them to his wound, making his way shakily to the paltry first-aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He was clumsy in his wound care, only able to use one hand to open the kit and the individually wrapped plasters, while the other pooled blood in his palm uselessly. The antiseptic had stung like hell and the plaster was off-center, but eventually, the job was done. Martin had managed.

“See?” He asked himself softly. “All better. We didn’t want the green beans anyways.” Martin was alone, but he would be fine. He could take care of himself.

——

2.

Martin’s phone had become less and less useful since his time in the Archives. Sasha and Tim had been distant in the end, their group texts dwindling into occasional messages regarding whether not someone had contacted so-and-so regarding their statement. He and Jon had called and texted quite a bit, before the Unknowing, when Jon had been in China, America, and wherever else Gertrude’s breadcrumbs had led him. But since the explosion, their messages lay at a standstill, a “good luck! come home safe :)” still waiting to be sent to “Jonathan Sims--Boss.” He used to call his mother every week, but the outgoing calls had dwindled as she returned less and less of them, until he received an apologetic voicemail from Steady Waters Care Home a few months ago.

Now, the only messages he received were his work emails and an occasional text from Peter with a request or two regarding The Magnus Institute. Not even spam calls reached him anymore. That was all fine by Martin. He was busy running the institute; he didn’t have time for social calls, even if he wanted any, which he didn’t. Martin had taken to leaving his phone in his work office, knowing he wouldn’t need it outside the building anyways. It was becoming something like a desktop mouse to him in its versatility.

It was a Thursday, and it was late--Martin’s watch read 11:09. Thursdays were Martin’s days to deliver paperwork to the archives. He could only ever do it at night when he was sure Jon had either gone home (or was asleep at his desk at the very least). Peter Lukas had been working Martin to the bone with all the paperwork he would hand off with a wave of his hand and an “I’ll be back next week Martin. Please don’t call me,” and this week’s stack of statement requests, financial approvals, and quarterly reviews would fall to Martin instead. Who knew running a front for feeding an all-seeing eldritch deity would require so many business expenses?

Martin. Martin knew. He had reviewed and approved each and every one.

It was the week after Halloween, so the list of those eager to give a statement was longer than usual. Hellweek, Tim used to call it, a grin on his face as Jon would frown and shake his head. The stack of folders Martin carried in his arms eclipsed his eyesight as he carefully made his way down the hall, the Lonely silencing his footsteps and the shuffle of his clothing. The elevator was broken this week, thanks to a visit from one of the Fairchilds. Martin clumsily opened the door to the stairwell, turning to the side slightly to see the steps that descended into the basement he knew so well. Cautiously, he began his way down the stairs, arms clutching the stack of paperwork and binders tight to his chest. The basement was eerily silent; even Martin’s muted steps echoed in his ears.

The door to the Archives creaked slightly, and Martin realized his mistake: he hadn’t propped the door. The thin streak of light that painted his way down the steps thinned and faded in time with the slow squeak of the door. The click of the latch sealed his fate: Martin was in the dark. He didn’t mind the dark, in principle, though his new awareness of the Fears heightened his concern considerably. He stepped down slowly, feeling for the steps with his foot as he went.

Halfway down the stairs, Martin heard a soft flutter as a few papers shifted in his stack. He hoisted the pile and tried to readjust it as he stepped once more. The combination of the changes in the balance of the papers and his weight combined were too much for his brain to process at once and he overcompensated on his step, putting his weight down a little too early. Martin felt the rush of adrenaline as he tried to catch himself, hands clutching uselessly at the paperwork in his hands as if it could save him and he felt himself tumble to the ground. Falling sideways, he hit his shoulder hard on the steps, momentum carrying him down the remaining steps to the floor. The loose papers not held in binders and folders scattered in what Martin was sure was every direction.

Martin was frozen on the floor, pain pulsing through his shoulder. He sat up tentatively, patting himself down as he set down what remained of his stack of folders. He wasn’t bleeding, but his ears were ringing and his arm hurt like hell. Listening carefully for the sound of anyone reacting to his presence, he rotated his shoulders carefully, wincing as throbbing radiated up his arm. He must have dislocated it. Patting his legs down, Martin found his phone in his pocket. He must have forgotten to put it on the charger. He...he could call someone, should call someone. His shoulder was dislocated.

He could call Jon.

He pulled up his text messages, the cursor blinking back at him, blinding in the dark. Jon was surely awake, he knew that man’s sleep schedule was worse than his.

good luck! come home safe :)

safe :)

safe.

“Shit.”

He couldn’t call Jon. It would undo everything he and Peter were trying to build up. It was all for Jon anyways, to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. No. He had to do this alone. It was best that way.

Martin sat himself up carefully. He had taken enough first aid courses (rather, he had watched them for free on the internet) to know how to set it back in place and he knew it would not be pleasant. He drew his right knee up, and clumsily unknotted his tie, using it to secure his arm to his knee. Martin closed his eyes tight and leaned away from his knee, rotating his shoulder as he stretched away, wincing in anticipation until he felt the wet pop of his arm slotting back into place. Sparks shot through his vision, his only grounding point in the dark, and he huffed out a cross between a moan and a curse.

He carefully made a fist with his re-set hand, tensing the muscles in his arm. Determining it to be good enough, Martin felt his way to his feet and grabbed the wall to steady himself. He knew there was a light switch somewhere--ah.

The light clicked on and he winced at the sudden change, letting his eyes adjust behind the safety of his lashes. When he opened his eyes again, he surveyed the mess of his paperwork, gathering it methodically. It took him another half hour, back against Tim’s old desk, to resort his files before setting them in the file basket he had installed on the door to the Archivist’s office, the rest going on the desk of Jon himself. He would see them all in the morning. At least Jon was home, resting.

When Martin emerged from the Archives, he glanced down at his watch, wondering if it was too late to hail a cab. He frowned at his watch; the face was cracked, the hands stuck at 11:11. He must have cracked it in his fall. “Make a wish,” Martin mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure his wishes were out of reach, hopeless. As long as he would be safe after all this, Martin could sacrifice a few wishes.

——

3.

Martin was on a walk. He had been doing that a lot, since his and Jon’s escape to Scotland. There was something comforting about the long stretches of rolling hills and rocky cliffsides, utterly devoid of menacing fear entities or bosses hellbent on destroying the world. Jon would come with him sometimes, especially in the early days when leaving each other’s presence was challenging to say the least, but Martin sometimes just needed the space. He loved Jon, he knew he did, and Jon did too, but sometimes the presence of another would build up and stifle him, an unbearable heat radiating off of Jon until Martin had to just go for a bit.

It was raining today, a bassy rhythm beating down on Martin’s umbrella as he walked a familiar cliffside path. He could see a rocky beach below him, waves made of roiling ink, more black than blue. The rain was comforting to him, distinguishing this ocean spread before him from the ocean of the Lonely and drowning out any thoughts that passed through Martin’s head. He stepped around a patch especially muddy gravel, glancing down and seeing a ghost of a reflection staring back at him.

Martin had been in a cold place today, withdrawn from the rest of the world. He had felt the fog blossoming over his mind and had known he needed to go for a bit, center himself, remind himself he was real. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would his sense of self again, though he was making progress. Jon understood that sentiment, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and had kissed him softly at the doorway, squeezing his hand in an unspoken promise. Martin tensed his own hand in a fist, still feeling the heat of Jon’s calloused palm under his, reveling in the idea that someone loved him the way Jon did, that someone loved him the way Jon did and that Martin loved Jon back. Martin felt his body solidifying under the rain, felt the wind buffet against him rather than pass through him.

Martin was thinking about going home when it happened.

Home, or Daisy’s safehouse, was a humble affair: reinforced windows, minimalist, a few guns hidden in the floorboards, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables from the village down the hill. It had been easy to reassign this place in Martin’s mind as home. He hadn’t felt at home since...well, definitely not since Prentiss. Maybe not before either.

The rain was letting up, and the brolly was forgotten in favor of letting the rain drop down into his hair, sopping his curls and plastering them to his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content to be in the rain. Things weren’t good, but they were the best they’d been in a while.

The next thing Martin knew he was on the ground, ankle twisted and both shins scraped, blood and dirt mingling on his legs. He tried to stand up and cried out as his ankle immediately gave way, the hope of putting weight on it dashed on the rocks of the beach far below him.

Martin Blackwood crawled to a tree, leaning his back against it, not minding the dirt that was sure to collect on his back and rump. He winced and massaged his ankle, already feeling it begin to swell under his fingertips. With his free hand, a silver scar shining between his forefinger and thumb, he reached for his phone from his jacket pocket, hands shaking as he clumsily dialed the only number in his list of favorites.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice was warm through the tinny speakers. “I hope you’re well.” It was carefully not a question, though Martin caught the notes of careful concern.

“Tch-” Martin sucked air through his teeth. “I fell, Jon. I twisted my ankle, I think? Can’t-ah-can’t walk.”

“Oh. Martin, dear,” Jon’s voice was softer, and Martin could practically see his love’s fingers, itching to do, to fix. “Do you need me to—I can come get you, if you like. I haven’t…I haven't looked. But I can, if you want me to.”

Martin smiled despite himself, hearing Jon’s cautious phrasing. “Please, yes. I’m pretty sure I’m near a picnic park, if you want to drive there and get me? Not sure this is a drivable trail.”

“Did you pass anyone?”

“…no?”

A pause. Martin heard static crackling through the phone. “No one will be there. I Know where you are, Martin. I’ll be there soon.”

Ten minutes and enough ice packs to ease the pain of a full rugby team later, Martin was laying in the back of Jon’s small car, heat blasting on him to dry his now-soaked clothing. There were perks to having an all-knowing partner, it turned out.

Later that evening, Martin was tucked into the couch, his head pleasantly nestled in cushions and his feet in Jon’s lap, who was carefully massaging his feet and ankles, probing for any long-term injuries with his Eyes. A mug of tea grasped between his hands, Martin sighed softly and felt warmth flood his face. He hadn’t been alone this time. He wouldn’t be alone ever again.