#Figuring out what should be shared in what order and how

[atiny-for-life]

Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - Part 20

Masterlist

In Your Fantasy MV (Z-World/Dreamscape)

Timeline-wise, we pick up where Crazy Form left off - or more specifically where the Epilogue left off: with Sopro floating above one of their workroom desks.

This MV is where we get to see what was previously only described in the Golden Hour Pt.2 Diary Entries: how Strictland was set free with the help of Sopro.

We open on a shot of the black boots we saw in the trunk at the end of Lemon Drop. Whoever is wearing them has been invited here as is made clear by the envelope now getting dropped on the ground - an envelope bearing a red wax seal very reminiscent of the ones we saw in Birthday on the letters sent to the Halazia crew.

From here, it'll be essential to pay attention to lighting and details in order to figure out what's going on and who is involved in this music video, so let's continue.

The guest walks up to the door and is greeted by Yunho who sits down at the bar inside the building and immediately whips out a lighter to play around with the flame.

Seonghwa walks in next and immediately burns a random piece of paper, before we switch to Yeosang whose birthmark is openly on display (as we'll also see more clearly later on in the video).

So what does this tell us? It tells us these are all members of the Halazia crew. And they were invited here by the Black Pirates to help free Strictland. Timeline-wise, this would place them around the time Birthday took place.

We move on to Wooyoung who's on a black motorcycle reminiscent of the ones they were driving in Bouncy, meaning this is likely Z-World's Wooyoung. The lighting outside the window here is blue - we'll put a pin in that.

Before leaving the room, this Wooyoung grabs a mask - we shall also keep that in mind for later.

As we continue, we get flashes of the members, including this Hongjoong who is shown holding a lighter before we switch to him in a hallway where he proceeds to rip off his Captain's armband.

I've speculated before that Halazia's Hongjoong isn't actually his crew's captain, but merely pretends to be for strategic reasons while Yunho is actually in charge. This might just prove it.

Alternatively, this could also be him ditching his title - perhaps permanently - since this will be his final performance as a Black Pirate before the rebellion will become obsolete (if all goes according to plan).

It should also be noted that his giggle at the start of his verse is so subtle, it can almost be overheard.

Mingi meanwhile blasts in with a booming FIX ON and also to noticeably blue lighting. Additionally, he also takes a seat in the audience, meaning he is likely also a member of Z-World's Ateez, much like Wooyoung from earlier.

The same goes for this Jongho we saw seated all by his lonesome on the center balcony, who will later also be holding a mask, like all the audience members.

We've now reached the most important part in the entire MV - the moment Z-World's Wooyoung brings out Sopro to synchronize the emotions of everyone in Strictland through this shared Dreamscape they've invited everyone into.

Here, we also get a shot of Z-World's Ateez up on the balcony while the Halazia crew is on stage. It's truly meaningful that this final performance, this climax of the rebellion, was given to the ones who failed to save their own world and later sacrificed themselves to create Sopro (or in the Halazia crew's timeline - will soon sacrifice themselves for it, in order to close this time loop).

The people of Strictland now gather in the rows upon rows of seats while the members of Halazia's crew walk up on stage (precisely at midnight) to finally set everyone free with one final performance. They will now metaphorically unlock the cage everyone has been trapped in for far too long - hence the lock with them being the key.

During the performance, golden sparks rain down as they enchant the audience who all begin to shed their masks, finally showing their true faces, their true emotions. At long last, they finally get to be who they really are.

We end in the empty hall, masks scattered everywhere, but no one is here anymore. They're all out in the real world where much work is still to be done as Z is finally overthrown and A-World's Ateez is sent back home with Sopro and the shattered remains of a Cromer.

[lenishhiew]

my snz OCs

hey yall so i am going to be sharing some snzfics about my OCs junie and nava soon ish, so i would like to introduce you to them! unfortunately i was blessed with exactly 0 artistic talent so all i have is picrews. but that's okay hashtag self acceptance.

OCs under the cut!

this is junie penrose! she's a 23yo witch living in buttfuck nowhere, witchland. she takes pleasure in gardening, music, cooking, painting, stargazing, and sneezing girls. she loves a good cup of tea and a slice of cake. hell yeah sister. she can be kind of irritable and tends to assume the worst of people, often taking offence at small things.

witch power wise she's a healer. she doesn't use magic to harm offensively, and cannot use magic to kill even in self-defence. her healing skills allow her to easily bring down fevers + heal wounds and bruises, but she is unable to reduce any symptoms of illness (how convenient...). she is only able to perform healing rituals and spells if the treatment is consented to, unless in life-or-death situations.

her backstory is a teensy bit tragic. witch tradition requires parents to abandon their children at the age of 12 in order to teach them self-sufficiency, and generally permits no contact after this point. junie has not been in contact with her family since she was abandoned, and this has left her with some pretty deep trust issues. she dislikes outsiders since she is wary of letting new people in (abandonment issues hello) and will go out of her way not to interact with anybody.

snz stuff: she has the kink, but sort of has it buried away. like she doesn't call it a kink but girls sneezing makes her Severely Horny for a reason she can't really explain. she has no allergies and is not particularly prone to illness, but she does have the photic sneezing reflex.

she also has a little cat called pipi. she is so cute. isnt she so cute. #pipifanpage

this is nava dillan! she's 23 and comes from boston, MA, so… how did she end up in buttfuck nowhere witchland? ig you'll find out :P

she finds enjoyment in jogging, writing poetry, singing, knitting, and retail therapy (same 🥲). she studied liberal arts at h/arvard and won't let anyone forget it. she loves makeup and skincare, and wants to travel the world. she has a good sense of humour and is quite fast to figure things out. she can be quite oversensitive and clingy, especially when she's sick- which happens fairly often.

her backstory also is a little sad oops! she grew up in a rather unstable household and rarely received attention or care from her parents. she often was yelled at for small things, and is quite anxious and determined to be perfect because of this. she is deeply afraid of being forgotten.

snz stuff!! Girl Who Is Allergic To Everything On The Planet. pollen, tons of flowers, cats, dust mites, fragrance, and randomly shellfish. unrelated i just thought you should know. she also gets sick easily. she doesn't have the kink but isn't weirded out by the thought of it, and is perfectly happy to indulge an unspecified person who may or may not have the kink. girlies a people pleaser what can i say

anyway that's my girls. they're my favs i love them soooo deeply and yes they are in lesbians what about it!

feel free to ask any questions about them :) thank you for reading!! i hope to share more of them with you soon!

[hazoret]

Who are your D&D/ttrpg blorbos?

Oh my god I am so sorry because I am unfortunately, insane.

My current dnd character is Oath of the Watchers Paladin named Kestrel, an aasimar variant called a vigil, more in depth info in that link, but the tldr is that its basically a guardian angel born to protect one person, and will die if that person does. Her backstory involves this happening, her ward (and lover at the time) was killed in an incident at the inn she was guarding. Someone let loose an archfiend there and this resulted in both of their deaths.

By the rules of her existence she should have died and moved on, but for some reason did not. This reason would later be revealed to be a child of the Raven Queen that had been lured by the incident and captured in a plot to give the country's current king an extended (or indefinite we're still not sure yet) lifespan. The child took notice of Kestrel during all of this and wanted to make her live again. So she did, albeit extremely fucked up for over a year with a literal piece of her soul missing. She did not return home or talk to her family who she loves very much during this time out of shame, feeling like she failed in her mission and to who she was born to be. (Theres complicated layers there, she has 6 sisters, all also vigils.)

Without going into TOO many details, for awhile she could talk to the child in her dreams (the only one who could in fact.) This lead her, despite her previous religious affiliation, to the Ravenite temple where she met with the High Matron, Shanalotte (the other blorbo.) After awhile because she was so forthcoming with information only she could know, and after being granted audience with the Raven Queen's partner, Shanalotte made her a Black Knight of their order, and Kestrel became a Ravenite herself.

Kestrel would grow to absolutely adore the god child, who would ask her for a name. She would call them The Wings of Hope (Hope for short, if you know you know (:) because they liked titles, and she would offer to reforge her guardian bond with them. Because of their divine nature this was possible.

Meanwhile, Kestrel is developing feelings for Shanalotte but doesn't know how to express them because trauma. Luckily for her, Shanalotte is much more forward and shares the feelings. Literally the day after Shanalotte expresses interest by kissing her, she reveals to Kestrel that she is actually a shadow dragon in hiding after defecting from Shar. (It's complicated, but she didn't just spring it on her. Kestrel was made aware that something was weird and confronted her about it.) She lost her family in a brutal attack by another dragon and Shar had taken advantage of her despair. Kestrel is, surprisingly to her, fine with all of this and already ready to die for this woman.

Several days later the party frees Hope and they're hanging around in a mortal body at the moment because getting back to the Shadowfell is complicated. This earns Kestrel her (non-vestigial) wings. The party is, among SO many other things, trying to figure out how to get them home.

Anyway its been like a month (in game) since all that, and a shit ton of other things have happened involving other party members and general plot. Kestrel and Shanalotte have grown insanely close during that time. Kestrel almost died again like 2 sessions ago trying to 1v1 an ancient black dragon at level 11.

Last session, being an insane lesbian who's been through some shit, Kestrel kind of half proposed to Shanalotte (she had been planning on proposing to her previous lover right before she died, that ring had been her Haunted One artifact, don't worry this was a different one she left the old one at her grave.) Both women left the conversation confused if they were engaged or not (good job idiot) and Shanalotte went to the party bard, Ivie, like hey I'm not sure what happened? Ivie hid her under a blanket and had Kestrel come to the room to ask her wtf was going on (I love you natural 1s on Insight,) then pulled the blanket off of Shanalotte and she finished what Kestrel started. Now they're engaged a little over a month into being together because, as stated, they are insane lesbians who have been through some shit.

Anyway that is for SURE more information than you wanted, and probably super scatterbrained. Have some pictures 😆

(Old fucking art but it shows the progression. Middle is where she started in the campaign. Left is before she died. She has a halo i forgor to draw here.)

(Current iteration of wings)

[thedemonscrawler]

Auuugh I hate exposition I hate one set of characters getting another set up to speed

istg from now on if you weren't present you just don't find out about what happened to your buddies, sorry bruh

[enthusiasticarsonist]

hate it when I talk about the beatles and people who are not very familiar with them hit me with 'john lennon beat his wife.' yeah, I know. I acknowledge the beatles as fully formed, objectively pretty awful, and above all complex and contradictory human beings. I talk about their unjustified glorification in pop culture and the red thread of both unintentional and meanspirited misogyny throughout their career a lot actually. now get in the fucking sandbox and play with me, we're making mclennon kiss in here

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Feeding the Pitt Crew - Dr. Jack Abbot x chef!reader

Summary: 3.2k words. Based on this request: i love love love chef!reader !! could u maybe do a short compilation of all the times she has given food to the pitt crew ? :)  Scenes are not in chronological order. This is a companion piece to Flesh Wound.

Warnings: innuendos. Mentions of PTSD, suicide, military-related accidents, and death. Family fluff, more innuendos, the chef is a damn catch and Abbot thanks his lucky stars he has her.

a/n: I got very hungry while writing this. also stay tuned to the end for some deleted dialogue that was too funny not to share. Divider credit!

1. Jack’s Birthday

Jack was working on his birthday. Well, it technically wasn’t his birthday yet, but when the clock struck midnight, he’d be a year older. He stopped counting the years after he turned 34.

Jack’s birthday might not be that important to him, but it was definitely important to you.

You got out of the restaurant a bit later than you normally would after going through all the closing tasks with your staff, but you’d still make it to the Pitt by midnight if you walked briskly.

There was a lull at the Pitt—the kind that made staff afraid of getting comfortable. No one dared to say the Q or S word. It seemed too right. Doctor Abbot sat at one of the dictation desks, squinting at some new test results. He was still in denial about needing reading glasses.

The high counter partially construed Jack’s view of you as you walked up to him. He was so focused on his charting that he didn’t spare you a glance.

“If you have any questions or concerns, please return to your room and activate the call light. Our staff will be with you as soon as possible.” Doctor Abbot droned. The speech was practiced, he could recite it in his speech. On one occasion, he had. You had to stifle your giggles into a pillow to avoid waking him up. He’d be the first to admit that his bedside manner wouldn’t always get him a five star review, but he was a damn good doctor.

“Is that so?” you smirked, your head tilted to the side as you assessed him. Forget the lingerie set wrapped up in a black gift box, tied with crimson ribbon in your closet at home, you should get him some damn glasses for his birthday.

Your boyfriend finally whipped his head to look at you. His features instantly softened at the sight of you. He rounded the desk and led you to the staff break room with your joined hands. He was trying to keep a low profile, and based on the gift bag in your left hand and to-go container in the right, he figured giving you his one-on-one attention away from the prying ears and eyes from the likes of Myrna and the night shift nurses was in his best interest.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked almost rhetorically. Before the deserted room’s door could shut, you were already unboxing a homemade slice of cake (with the promise that the rest of the cake was in his apartment fridge, waiting for him to devour) and had pulled out candles and a matchbox.

Jack watched you work with his toned arms crossed over his broad chest. He attempted to feign his baseline stoicism, but it quickly fell apart as he watched how excited you got while lighting the candles.

“You know, it’s against hospital policy to have an open flame,” the doctor informed you while wagging his finger. Jack knew his words didn’t even sound that convincing to himself.

“You were never much of a rule-follower anyway,” you quipped back, showing him a toothy grin as you finished up. The chocolate ganache layered cake was adorned with just a few candles. 

“Figured it would be a real fire hazard if I brought out all fourty-some candles.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Think you can take the heat?” Jack stepped to you, invading your personal space. His intense eyes never left yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He was tired, sure, but his seemingly ever-present fatigue was the furthest thing from his mind as he, who notoriously hated celebrating his birthday, stood alone in the break room with the woman he loved. Every year he spent with you just tasted sweeter and sweeter.

“Oh, I know I can,” you responded, flirtatious desire dancing in your eyes. You stepped back from Jack to give him room to blow out his candles, but not far enough to loosen the firm but gentle grip of his large hand on your hip.

With a dramatic inhale and gentle exhale onto the art that was your baking, the gray, gruff, bordering on geriatric, trauma physician blew out his birthday candles at 12:02 a.m.

“Happy birthday, Jack,” you smiled sweetly and pressed your lips to his.

2. Steelers Win the Super Bowl

The Steelers won the Super Bowl for the first time since 2009. Naturally, the Pitt was receiving an abnormally high amount of drunken party-related injuries. In all honesty, Pittsburgh’s fans were giving Philly’s Eagles rowdy fanbase a run for their money.

The betting board listed all different possible scores, plays, fouls, end zone dances, the variety of celebration-related incidents and injuries night shift would encounter in the Pitt, and finally, what kind of snacks Mrs. Abbot would be bringing in for the crew.

Earlier in the evening, Jack was told he wasn’t allowed to bet on the last item specifically.

“You know too much. It’s like insider trading.”

“Yeah, you’ve probably seen what she’s bought in groceries over the last couple of days. Or maybe you even talked about it!”

The security staff and techs volleyed back and forth as Doctor Abbot grew more and more annoyed. He just wanted to place a damn bet on what songs his wife’s favorite artist would be performing during the halftime show.

Doctor Abbot swore he had no idea what his wife had planned, or if she was even going to visit.

“Psh. She always visits when she knows your ass will be too busy to eat something on your own,” Shen interjected as he posted his bet on the board.

True.

When you walked in with two large boxes with Abby’s printed script on the sides in your arms, Abbot barely noticed the boxes threatening to escape your grasp. No, Doctor Abbot was much more transfixed by the little number you’d decided to show up at his workplace in. 

Your knee-high boots, fishnets, and tight leather mini skirt were more than enough to catch the eye of a concerning majority of hospital staff and lucid patients, but it was the oversized Steelers jersey you’d borrowed from Jack’s closet that had him subtly readjusting himself in the middle of the Pitt.

Shen and one of the security guards you’d seen at least half a dozen times generously offered to take the boxes off your hands and to the staff lounge. A few newer staff members were drawn toward the aroma, but instead of following the food to the break room, they stayed swarmed around you as you slowly made your way through the Pitt. Your boots, unfortunately, were not made for walking.

Jack huffed and wrapped up as quickly as possible, his eyes rarely leaving you. The junior staff surrounding you clearly weren’t aware that you were the Mrs. Abbot, otherwise, they certainly wouldn’t have been pushing their luck by flirting with you. As if the massive rock on your ring finger wasn’t enough of an indication that you were not available.

Doctor Abbot finally finished up and began his leisurely stroll toward his wife. He might’ve had more urgency if he wasn’t tired to his bones, if his muscles weren’t achey in a way that he knew only a warm bath with you tucked between his thighs would soothe.

That was until you started to bend over to adjust your boot.

Jack was at your back in an instant, preserving what modesty you had left. The leather skirt had ridden far too high up your thighs for his comfort. The junior staff scrambled away at the deathly dagger glare Doctor Abbot dealt to each of them.

Jack’s hips pressed firmly against your back, his hand splayed across your belly, pulling you against him. His lips were mere millimeters from your skin as he whispered into the shell of your ear.

“Trying to put on a show, hmm?” His warm breath fanned against you, and you wondered if your husband could feel your bounding pulse.

“Only if you’re the one watching,” your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned back into Jack’s strong form. Abbot hummed and squeezed your hip before gently pulling away. He intertwined his fingers with yours as you both joined Shen and half of the nightshift crew in the staff lounge. Your eyes widened to see that more than half the food was already gone, but you were happy nonetheless that it was being enjoyed.

Jack took in the spread you’d thoughtfully crafted for his crew. Buffalo chicken dip sat in the center of one of the Abby’s catering boxes, surrounded by fresh-baked pretzel bites. In the other tray, an assortment of veggies was wedged between hummus and your secret ranch recipe.

Jack grazed on the snacks, but never strayed too far from your side. His hand rested on the small of your back that was exposed, his thumb softly massaging your skin; You’d styled his Steelers jersey to a cropped fit by cinching it with a black and gold scrunchy.

Like always, it didn’t take too long before the momentary peace in the Pitt was interrupted. Doctors Shen, Ellis, and Abbot’s pagers all lit up simultaneously as an incoming trauma alert was called out over the PA system.

Jack pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and shamelessly squeezed your butt with his large hand before performing a final raid of the snack spread, shoving a combination of celery, pretzel bites, and buffalo chicken dip into his mouth before jogging to the ambulance bay.

3. Memorial Day

Memorial Day was always a tough day for Jack.

For most of the country, it was a day off from work and an excuse to cook out or spend an afternoon at the pool.

To Jack, it was a reminder of all the men he’d served with who died in action. Those who died from all-consuming PTSD and self-inflicted wounds. It reminded him of the accident that killed several servicemen—the one that he was lucky enough to survive, minus a leg.

Every year, you let Jack decide what to do for the day. Sometimes he drove for hours on end with no destination in mind. Just him, the open road, and a sense of control. Other years, the two of you stayed inside with the blackout curtains drawn and watched hours of shitty reality TV as sweet aromas wafted from the kitchen. Blue Bell vanilla ice cream paired perfectly with your chocolate chunk cookie recipe.

When the fireworks went off, Jack buried his head against your neck and held onto you like a lifeline.

Abbot joked that he’d put on at least a couple of pounds around his midsection since he began dating you. You simply shrugged and told him you were into it; into his stubble and graying hair, his soft tummy and firm, rippling arms, his “DILF vibe”, as you called it.

This Memorial Day, Jack decided he wanted to celebrate. He’d spent years mourning, and he always would. This time around, he wanted to celebrate his friends’ lost lives and honor the sacrifice they’d made.

Only after you’d checked with your husband multiple times to make sure he was okay with it did you invite Abby’s staff and the entire PTMC ER crew over to your home for a Memorial Day cookout. Half of the Pitt was scheduled to work, but the night staff made sure to stop by before their shift started, and the day shift arrived not long after, still in their scrubs and exhausted, but motivated by the promise of Mrs. Abbot’s food.

Jack insisted on manning the grill.

“This is where I shine, baby,” he insisted while checking over the grill and propane valves.

“Sure, honey,” you conceded with a light hum. You let him cook the burgers on the condition that he wear his “I rub my own meat” apron. It didn’t take much convincing.

More than one party guest groaned when they saw you weren’t preparing the hot dogs and burgers yourself, but their moods quickly turned around when they took in the sight of your kitchen island. No counter space was visible. The marble slab was covered corner to corner with various side dishes and desserts. Certainly, anybody with any dietary restrictions at the party could find something to enjoy.

This year, when the fireworks danced across Pittsburgh’s sky, Jack didn’t go inside. He didn’t draw the curtains. Instead, he held you tightly on his lap, surrounded by his friends and found family around your backyard bonfire.

4. The Bake Sale

You and Jack agreed early on in your relationship that kids just weren’t in the cards for you two. Given how dedicated you both were to your respective careers, it wouldn’t be fair to bring children into a home that was empty half the time. Neither of you wanted to give up your ambitions. It was a selfless decision, really. Every child deserves loving parents who want to have children, and that simply wasn’t you and Jack.

That didn’t mean you weren’t an absolutely kickass cool Aunt, though.

When your niece’s school ballet recital was coming up, your sister told you the PTA was arranging a bake sale fundraiser. Before she even finished her sentence, you agreed to help out. You would do anything for your little niece.

The morning of the recital, Jack watched his home turn into a bakery. You generously allowed him to taste test and even enlisted his help… in washing dishes and rearranging things in the kitchen to make room on the counter for the dozen pans you’d churned out.

“Honey… are you running the bake sale by yourself?” Your husband asked as he carefully slid slices of banana bread into small cellophane bags.

“Oh gosh, no! I’m just helping out a bit,” you called over your shoulder, wrist deep in powdered sugar. What an odd thing for him to ask.

Jack looked at the packed kitchen counters with his eyebrows raised. He loved your baking and cooking more than life itself, but there was no way you were going to sell out of this many treats.

The recital was beautiful. Sure, the kindergarteners weren’t exactly ready to be recruited by the New York City Ballet Company, but the joy on their faces and adoration from their families filled the room. The love was palpable and warm. It was comfortable.

Jack bought a bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath for your niece. Ballet wasn’t his thing, but he loved spending time with you, no matter what you were doing. Motherhood was never something you craved, the same way fatherhood wasn’t something Jack ever pictured himself in. But the love you felt for your nieces and nephews? It knew no bounds.

Just as Jack suspected, your desserts were a hit at the bake sale and outsold other contributions by far. But, you were still left over with a surplus of treats that had the other PTA moms in shock. You and your husband had tasted more than your fair share of desserts during your baking spree, but you didn’t want the food to go to waste. You knew exactly the place to deliver the boxes of spare treats.

It was weird to see Doctor Abbot in the Pitt without his uniform. His jeans and collared button-up shirt stretched across his broad chest in a distracting way. Your husband caught you staring and winked at you with one of his signature smirks.

Abbot moved through PTMC’s halls with practiced precision. He knows the hospital like the back of his hand and could navigate it blindly. He knows it almost as well as he knows you.

Normally, your husband wouldn’t have you carry anything or lift a finger. But the Abby’s boxes and bags were too much to carry alone, even for him. So he carried the heaviest and told you where to scan his key card while you balanced a single light bag on your shoulder.

The two of you slipped into the Pitt, almost unnoticed amidst the chaos. Almost.

“Aye! Abby’s is here!” The charge nurse announced across the Pitt, earning the attention of every staff member. You waved to everyone with a kind smile while Jack used his chin to attempt to secure the top box in his arms. Doctor Ellis wasted no time making her way over to the couple, plucking the top two boxes out of Dr. Abbot’s hold and blowing a kiss to you as she passed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Abbot,” she grinned and disappeared into the staff lounge. Jack spared you a sideways glance, you shrugged in response.

You and Jack didn’t even make it halfway down the hallway to the breakroom before a flurry of staff members had taken the boxes and bags out of your hands, calling out Thank you! You’re the best! Mmm, this smells amazing!

Once the metaphorical dust settled, leaving you and Jack both empty-handed and alone in the hallway, you chuckled to each other.

No, the food would certainly not go to waste. Not on the Pitt crew’s watch.

5. The Soup Kitchen

At least once a month, Abby’s made an appearance at soup kitchens throughout Pittsburgh for unhoused people in the community. You had half a dozen tried-and-true recipes that were always a hit among guests, but you were ready to try something new. While you could’ve had Jack taste test for you, you knew he’d just tell you he thought everything you cooked was amazing. Which was true.

Usually, Abby’s was closed on Mondays, but you made an exception today to invite a handful of PTMC’s finest to sample the new soups. The physicians, nurses, and techs alike mingled in the dining room while they snacked on stray saltines.

You cleared your throat and commanded the room effortlessly. Jack stood to your side, his hands clasped behind his back. A small smile graced his face as he watched you in your element. The trauma physician admired the way your engagement ring glimmered in the light as you gestured to the spread in front of you.

“Listen up! Here’s the deal: Help yourself to some soup. Give me your feedback directly, or if Jack has threatened you,” you added pointedly, pinning your fiancé with a nonlethal glance, “feel free to write it down and leave it in the suggestion box. Constructive and complimentary feedback are equally appreciated. If you take leftovers home, I expect you to volunteer with me at a soup kitchen event at least once over the next couple of months. Got it?” You looked at the small crowd, smirking at the way they were practically drooling.

“Yes, ma’am!” They enthusiastically agreed in unison.

“Alright, kids, dig in.” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Kids, even though the majority of the present staff were older than you, your fiancé included. Nobody objected as they eagerly served themselves.

You leaned against Jack, who was already slurping the last drops of soup from his first bowl, and rested your head on his shoulder. It was nice to see the Pitt staff letting loose. Abby’s was your second home. You had worked tirelessly over the years to make it an inviting place for people to enjoy good food and relax; it was so rewarding to see the frontline workers let their guard down and take a deep breath.

Jack pressed a kiss to your forehead—it was like he could sense your racing thoughts.

“You do good work, baby,” he murmured sincerely against your hairline, massaging the small of your back with his free hand.

“You too, Doctor Abbot.”

a/n 2: Here's the deleted dialogue mwah. *set during the Steelers Super Bowl scene. Jack is taking in his wife’s arguably semi-scandalous outfit* “Aren’t you cold, baby?” “A hoe never gets cold.” “Don’t say that!” Jack replies instantly, exasperated. “Relax. I’m only your hoe.” Damn straight. “Also, I’m approximately 4 drinks deep, so I’m not feeling much of anything right now.” “That sounds more like it.”

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[tbaluver]

Husband/ Father Headcanons- The Love And DeepSpace Men

order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi lovelies! i apologize that my reqs are coming supa late but i should finish and post them so soon after my school semester ends! i literally have so many in my drafts (╥﹏╥) i usually overthink my reqs which is why i take super long but here's some husband material to feed you all for now i hope ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ talk to you all so soon mwah (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He loves doing simple things with you like going to the supermarket. He’s read somewhere on the internet that that's what married couples are supposed to do on earth.

Morning routines with Xavier are always so warm and sweet. As you both get ready for the day, he’ll take your hand, carefully adjusting your wedding ring before giving it a soft kiss.

Whenever your newborn baby starts crying just as you’re both about to eat, he always prioritizes you. He’ll reassure you that you can go ahead and eat without him and enjoy your meal, promising you that he’ll take care of the baby.

You and Xavier share a special inside joke just between the two of you about the cute sounds your baby makes. Whether it’s the random babbling or their adorable squeals, always brings a smile and laugh to the both of you.

Xavier loves hearing and seeing your child laugh and will do absolutely anything to make them smile whether it’s through tickling, playing peekaboo, pulling silly faces, or using a high pitched voice

Lots of snuggles with you and your baby. You’d have your little one nestled safely right in the middle of the two of you as you all fall into deep slumber. He especially loves having his child rest on his chest while you snuggle up beside him.

Zayne:

Whenever your baby girl starts walking or crawling, he’ll consistently clean the floors of the house multiple times to keep the floor clean for his baby girl and to also have a clean house in general.

Your daughter has her own little kitchen playset because she loves watching either of you cook. Sometimes, while Zayne’s busy with his patients reports, she’ll run up to him with a plate of her plastic food to share her ‘cooking’ with him. He loves to play along to see her adorable smile, pretending to savor it and tell her how delicious it is.

Whenever it’s a quiet time between the two of you, enjoying each other’s company and doing your own thing, Zayne often reaches over to gently rub his thumb against your wedding ring, often reminiscing about the day you two got married and a small smile curling on his lips.

Anytime you ask him to grab something for you while he’s out, he always goes the extra mile and adds a little something extra for you- and for him as well especially if it’s something sweet. If you ask for the next series of your favorite book you love, he’ll just get the entire collection so you can binge-read it right away. He’ll even pick up a copy of the book you’re currently reading so he can talk about it with you.

Rafayel:

Everyday being married to you feels like a blessing from the gods. He wakes up in the morning to see your beautiful sleeping figure right beside him, wearing the wedding ring on your finger that ties you both together forever. Rafayel always greets you with something cheesy when you wake up like, “Hello my beautiful wife.” with a big smile on his face.

Rafayel flirts with you as if you haven’t been married for a couple years now and often says “I love you” with any chance he gets. “Heyy my lovely gorgeous wife, before you come home, do ya think you can pick me up some extra brushes? I think our little glub glubs hid them again...oh and by the way I love you!”

He always wears his ring. He can’t help but fidget with the ring whenever he starts to miss you, smiling as thinks about the day you both exchanged your vows.

After a long day at work, you can always find your lemurian children running up to greet you with your husband. Sometimes they like to show off their artwork they’ve all made together and most of the time it’s all just for you.

However he can always tell when you’re exhausted and drained, so he’ll gently excuse the kids, assuring them you’ll spend time with them later. For now he’s happy to entertain the children so you can get your rest. He’ll make up a random activity to keep the children busy so he can do small things for you like running a bath or preparing some meals for you

Sylus:

Anytime Sylus and his baby girl are shopping, he’ll always ask her what she wants or what she prefers. He treats her like a princess just like her mommy.

“hmm....pink! no, red!...pink!”

“how about....we get both dear?”

and there’s something so adorable seeing her so happy that makes him feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

Sylus does not mind in any timeline or universe if you’re comfortable being provided for. He can afford it and nothing can hurt his card even if you tried.

As years go by, he’ll make sure your wedding ring isn’t getting worn out or has any chips in it. Not that it would ever get worn off from its high quality. If it does have any problems, he’s quick to get it fixed, making sure that your ring will always shine with you.

Before you both unwind for the night, he’ll gently kiss the back of your hand where your wedding ring rests, before slowly slipping it off for the night.

Anytime you’re home from a long day of work, he’s already outside waiting for you to take out things in your car so you don’t have to carry anything.

After a long shift, you can always come home to find a warm dinner waiting for you with your favorite drink. The house would be clean and your baby girl is already tucked in. He’ll sit by you at the dining table, a glass in his hand, sharing stories about his day or simply listening as you tell him about yours.

Caleb:

Caleb absolutely treasures being a father. He became the father that he wished he had, present and involved in every moment. Whether it’s cheering from the sidelines at their games or helping with their homework ( without yelling and making them cry at the kitchen table ), or just listening when they need to talk, he’s always there for his kids. He’s just as devoted to you, always making sure you feel as supported and loved.

Caleb is the type of husband that would wake up early or stay up late to make sure your lunch is ready for work the next day. He knows exactly how you like your meals, carefully preparing each dish and packing it with everything you need. He does the same for his kids, packing their lunch boxes the night before with their favorite snacks and an apple.

Playtime is a must with his kids. He believes in letting his kids experience the joy of childhood to its fullest. The living room is always filled with the sound of his laughter as he lifts them high into the air, making airplane noises or chasing them around the house from their made-up games. He would also make sure to keep track of their growth, marking their heights on the wall.

Once all the kids are tucked in bed and actually asleep, he’ll swoop you in with a kiss. His kisses were always so hungry and sweet and he seriously cannot get enough of you, always wanting more.

“We have food at home” type of father but your kids never mind because he always cooks them whatever they’re craving. His home cooked meals always HIT. The house would be filled with delicious smells that make everyone feel right at home. His love is always served in each and every dish that makes his cooking way more special than going out to eat.

Your home is filled with many memories of your marriage but Caleb has a special place for his favorites. He keeps them up in your shared bedroom so when he wakes up beside you with the cool metal ring around his finger is a reminder that brings him back into reality that he’s married to the love of his life and there is always an escape from his nightmares.

[gurugirl]

Maybe Fate

MAIN MASTERLIST

This was first posted on Patreon one year ago! Figured I’d share it here with y’all on tumblr! 💕

Summary: The first time you meet Harry is under odd circumstances. But the second time you meet him it feels like fate. Well, if you believe in that sort of thing.

A/N: I have a couple of songs linked through to Spotify if you are interested in listening to set the scene - it's not necessary, though!

Word Count: 8,347

Warning: smut, cuteness, loud sex that can be heard by others

..

Your roommate K had some gall. You could hear her and whoever it was she brought home from the bar going at it for what seemed like an exaggerated amount of time. How was it possible that they could last that long? Why were they still having sex?

As annoying as it was to lose sleep (you had a test in the morning so it was a little more than just annoying) you could admit, it did sound like she was getting it good.

The man, who you’d not yet seen and probably would not be seeing, had a deep voice. And not just any deep voice. He sounded—hot. You couldn’t hear everything that that he said but he was vocal and he was definitely talking dirty to her.

Of course, there was also her bed wildly bouncing and frame smacking into the wall which told you he was plowing her in a way that made you a little jealous. You hadn’t been laid in a while. It was your senior year at university and you were busting your ass like the good student you were. You needed a good grade to get the internship you were up for that summer.

So sleep was vital. And here you were listening as K was getting the life fucked out of her. She sounded like she was crying but then you’d hear her long drawn-out moans of pleasure…

You stuffed your pillow over your head and groaned. If you failed your test the following day you’d be having a word with her about proper roommate etiquette. They could keep it down. There was no way they weren’t aware you could hear every little thing happening on her bed. You could even hear their bodies colliding every time he thrust into her.

Jesus. You needed sleep. But you also needed to get laid.

. . .

You didn’t fail your test, but you barely passed. But a passing grade was a passing grade you thought to yourself as you ordered your cappuccino. You were exhausted. Memories of what had kept you up had you rolling your eyes.

K was nice. You didn’t know her well, though. You were renting a small two-bedroom apartment and found it through an ad she’d posted. It would have been nice to have a place of your own but who could afford that? So, being stuck with K was more out of necessity than anything. You didn’t have much choice.

And up until the night before you’d really had no major complaints. She was six years older than you and had a regular job. She brought men home from time to time but nothing like her most recent Casanova that shook the whole apartment. And it was funny to you how she was always out partying and drinking while you stayed in on the weekends and studied til your eyes bulged out of your head. It should have been the opposite with you being the college kid and her the more mature adult.

Your plan had been to go home and crawl back into bed to catch up on the sleep you’d missed out on. But when you walked into your apartment you realized that K was still home. Which was odd since it was midday Thursday. Normally she was working.

You tossed your bag in your room and toed off your tennis shoes before making your way to the shared bathroom in the hallway and pushing open the door.

But instead of finding the bathroom unoccupied, you were met with a naked man who looked just as surprised as you were, “Oh shit!”

You turned quickly and put your hands over your eyes, “Sorry! Oh my god!”

The shock of seeing a man’s naked dick when you were not expecting it had you a bit dazed.

“Sorry, I’m covered now. Sorry,” you heard his voice and realized immediately who the offender was. The rowdy Casanova from the night before.

You kept your fingers over your eyes as you turned and slowly parted your digits to make sure it was safe.

He laughed and you verified he was indeed covered. But you did notice all the tattoos on his chest and arms, and his dark curls and soft green eyes… Yeah K was a lucky girl. Damn.

You didn’t stare long, though. But you could tell his body looked like he had a lot of stamina, and after everything you’d heard the night before you understood it all now.

“I’m Harry,” he held a hand out to you in greeting.

You smiled up at him and slid your palm into his, “Y/n. Uh… I’m guessing you’re K’s friend?”

He laughed again. Even his laugh was attractive with a big grin and nice teeth, “Yeah. I guess you could call me her friend.”

“Got it,” you nodded as you backed up out of the bathroom, “Well, I’ll come back when you’re done in here. Honestly didn’t mean to see…” you waved your hand around, “any of that.”

. . .

You didn’t see Harry again after that. You did hear him again the following night, though. But this time you had a picture in your head of the man who was obliterating K with that big thing between his legs and his nicely built body with broad shoulders and thick, muscled thighs.

It was no wonder she was crying out in ecstasy. You wondered if she’d need to repaint the wall where the frame was knocking into the plaster repeatedly. Wondered if other neighbors could hear (surely they could). Wondered what position he was putting her in and how he might look doing it.

Then you heard a loud pop and K’s choked gasp and then another three or four pops. He was spanking her.

You rolled your eyes so hard you felt the force of your sockets nearly separate from your eyeballs. It wasn’t fair. God, what you wouldn’t give to have a man that looked like that fucking you so hard into your mattress you were a blubbering mess and then to have him spank you with those big hands…

You could almost see the dimpled smirk on his face as he landed his palms over her bum. You could hear his voice but it was difficult to make out the words he was saying over the racket of the squeaky bed and K’s high-pitched moans.

And once again, the amount of stamina he had to last as long as he did was quite amazing to you. Most of the guys you’d slept with couldn’t keep going like that or they’d come too fast.

But of course, the longer they lasted, the less sleep you were awarded.

. . .

Graduating from university felt different than you imagined it would. Nothing much really changed. You envisioned getting that internship and starting a new life and making new friends with people who had the same interests as you.

But instead, you found yourself not getting picked for the internship even though you were more than qualified, and moving back in with your parents once your lease with K was up.

Honestly, it felt a lot like high school again, except this time you needed to get a job. And as it turned out having your engineering degree meant zilch when you had no experience to speak of. So you were forced to find something that had nothing to do with the framed certificate hung on the wall in your childhood bedroom.

So that’s why you needed a night out or something. Something to break up the monotony of what this very disappointing after-graduation life looked like so far.

“I know it might sound really lame, but I am going bowling with some friends. On Fridays, they have $10 pitchers of beer and pizza. Cheap fun.” Your cousin, Lee, told you over the phone when you called to find out what her plans were.

But even if you were terrible at bowling, beer and pizza with adults your age sounded really fun. You needed to get out of your parent's house and do anything else. Bowling sounded more appealing than listening to your dad talk about his coworkers and what time he was gonna light up the grill and make hamburgers (then hear him complain about how you don’t eat meat).

Rocket Soul Bowl was one of those dirty, old bowling alleys. The parking lot was filled with potholes and had weeds growing up through the cracks and the inside smelled of stale cigarette smoke, had dim lighting, with old school rock and R&B playing. It was perfect.

Well. Better than watching your parents eat hamburgers while you stuck with chips and potato salad.

You found Lee with one of her friends after you got your used (and hopefully sanitized) bowling shoes and she already had a pitcher of beer on the table with plastic cups.

“Y/n!” She jumped up and hugged you, “This is Chris,” she gestured toward the guy who stood up to reach his hand out for you to shake. “We’re waiting on Harry. And then we’ll start bowling and order pizza.”

You smiled at Lee and Chris and then poured beer into your cup as you sat down on the hard, smooth plastic bench at the table. It wasn’t often you heard the name Harry. Immediately your mind went to the tall curly-headed man with tattoos. Part of you thought how funny it would be if that was the Harry who was meeting up with your cousin at the bowling alley. In all the world, to have it be the same Harry seemed impossible.

But when a Bill Withers song began playing over the speakers and Chris stood up to greet someone who approached you from behind, “Hey man! Good to see you!” It was like something inside of you just knew. Before you even heard his voice or looked at his green eyes.

Placing your plastic cup down you stood up and turned to see him. Harry hugged Lee but the moment they parted from the hug he saw you and the smile on his face changed to a flirty grin. “Y/n, what a surprise. Are you the cousin?” You noted he had a black helmet tucked under his arm.

You nodded and looked at Lee and back at Harry, “Yeah. I’m Lee’s cousin. You guys know each other?”

Lee laughed, “For years. Wait? You know Harry?”

Before you could speak Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side, draping his arm over your shoulder, “We do,” he looked down at you, “Intimately.”

Chris laughed and you shook your head, pushing yourself out from under his arm, “We know each other, but not really. Definitely not intimately. He’s joking,” you laughed.

Harry’s demeanor did not falter, “But we do, Y/n. You’ve seen my cock and balls and bush. I’d say that’s intimate.”

You looked at Lee, still shaking your head, “No, that was an accident–“

“She’s playing shy. Knows very well some other very intimate details about me as well,” he kept his eyes on you, the edge of his mouth playing upward in a smirk, “Isn’t that right?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed as you squinted at him, “You’re crazy.”

Harry pulled you back into his side and put his arm over your shoulder, “I am a little.”

When Lee put everyone’s name in the computer and the match started it was your turn first. You picked a bowling ball you liked the color of and stood along the lines on the slick floors and attempted to launch the ball down the center of the lane but once it got toward the end the ball suddenly veered to the left and only knocked down two pins.

You repeated your move, trying to make the ball stay toward the center but it rolled in nearly the same path as before, veering to the left at the end, this time hitting nothing before it rolled into the gutter and then it was Harry’s turn.

“Better luck next time, Cherry,” he eyed your shirt as he spoke and picked up his ball.

You were wearing a black t-shirt with cherries on the front with the words Have a cherry good time! You rolled your eyes as you sat down and sipped your beer. But inside you were feeling something other than annoyed. In fact, you could say you were quite pleased that Harry was there.

It turned out, as was no surprise, that you were a terrible bowler. So was Lee. Chris was good enough to hold his own, but what was surprising was how good Harry was. He claimed he rarely bowled, that it was just luck. But you weren’t sure about all that.

The four of you sat on the plastic chairs after your first set and ate pizza (you opted for cheese) with a fresh pitcher of beer, “I’m just good at most things I do. I have no idea why,” Harry laughed before taking a huge bite of his slice of pizza.

“It’s true. This guy just learns how to do something and immediately he’s good at it. In our sophomore year at university, I was on the track team and one day I was at practice and Harry just pops in because he wants to chat about something so I tell him I’ve got to run laps so he just goes with me. The whole team was out there practicing in our athletic gear, like just dragging and sweating and Harry’s in jeans and a t-shirt and he’s running next to me not even breaking a sweat. He held a whole conversation while we were full-on running without skipping a beat.”

Chris took a drink from his cup, “Oh, and then there was the time that girl was showing us how to play chess and Harry sits and watches and listens to her explain the game so he plays a round with her and he fucking beats her. Like?”

The four of you laugh but the truth is you’re a bit impressed. You also happen to know another thing he’s really good at, but you stop yourself from allowing that thought to develop further.

The next game you play, you also suck. You barely hit any pins but you were having such a good time you could have cared less. Of course, Harry was just strike after strike. One time he went up with his plastic cup, launched his ball with one hand while he took a sip of beer and hit all but two pins. On his next try, he threw the ball, knocking down the two remaining. But that was him showing off. His cocky grin aimed at you as he sat down.

But the best part was that he sat next to you every time he went back to the seats when his turn was over. He kept his arm over your shoulder with his thigh flush against yours.

It made you hot having him so close. Every time you looked down at his thighs you were reminded of that day you saw him. You knew what he looked like with no jeans covering his bottom half. And you knew those muscles were definitely good for something.

It was hard not to think about Harry that way. He was hot and he was flirty.

And when your mind was wandering into the figurative gutters (unlike the literal ones your bowling ball kept wandering into) about what he’d be like with you in bed you didn’t realize it was your turn as you listened to his husky voice with his arm over your shoulder and his fingers brushing the skin just under your t-shirt sleeve.

“Cherry girl, your turn,” he spoke into your ear, breaking you from your reverie.

Another bad round. You were terrible. You laughed as you turned back to see Harry right behind you waiting his turn, “Come here,” he pulled at your hand, “Let’s do this together. Your form is all wrong.”

“But if I bowl on your turn I’m gonna fuck up your score.”

Harry’s dimples poked into his cheeks as he smiled, “Why would I care about my score? I’m not making money on this or anything. Even if we hit no pins I’m still gonna win anyway. Now get your cute ass over here so we can figure out what’s going on.”

You coughed a laugh and looked back at Lee who was watching the exchange with her brows raised. Yeah, she’d been giving you looks the entire time. You were sure she thought you and Harry had something going on. You could only hope.

Harry moved you up to the line as he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders and then he pushed his chest to your back, helping you hold the ball correctly, positioning your hands with his, “Hold it like this, yeah?” His voice vibrated off the shell of your ear and down the back of your neck.

“There, good girl, Cherry. Just like that.” He let go of your hands and then you felt his grip on the back of your hips, “We’re gonna take one step forward, and then as you bring your other leg up you’ll swing this back for momentum before pushing it out and letting it roll toward the pins. Follow my lead.”

He nudged you forward before putting one hand on your right arm, “Now bring it back,” he let you swing the ball back before you felt him push the ball in your hands, giving you a bit more oomph in your swing. “And release. Like that…” he stayed against your back as you both watched the ball roll down the lane and rather than either going directly into the gutter or only hitting the last two pins on the left it was almost center and hit half the pins.

You jumped up and spun around, “Oh my god! It worked!” He laughed as you hugged him and you felt his arms squeeze around your middle before letting you go.

“Now try it again. See if you can do the same thing I just showed you.”

You took your bowling ball and lined up, holding the ball upward as Harry showed you, and then moved to swing and release. The ball didn’t have as much power as when he had helped you but it still hit three more pins.

You jumped up and down and turned back, high-fiving Harry as you both took your seats next to one another. It felt good to hit more pins. Something about it was exhilarating and maybe it was the way Harry looked proud that had you feeling that excitement even more so. It didn’t matter, though. You were having so much fun.

But all good things must come to an end. When the last round was nearly over and you were still losing while Harry was blowing everyone out of the water, you were feeling a bit of anxiety at that being it. Maybe you’d never see him again. He hadn’t asked for your number and even though he was obviously flirting with you there was no guarantee it actually meant much of anything.

When Lee took her turn and a Bruce Springsteen song came on you felt Harry’s fingers move to the back of your neck, “What are you doing after this?”

You smiled as you looked at him, his face was incredibly close to yours, “No plans. You?”

“What a coincidence that two young and attractive people have no plans on a Friday night after bowling. Wouldn’t you say?”

You laughed as his fingers trailed over the skin on your neck, “Yeah. Wild coincidence.”

“Actually it is. Maybe fate even,” he grinned teasingly, “I’m pretty sure this means we’re meant to hang out after this. Me and you, Cherry. You can’t say no to fate.”

The smile on your face couldn’t be removed if anyone tried. Because maybe Harry was right. Maybe it was fate. Maybe the coincidences in life that we think of as just coincidences are more than just random occurrences.

“That’s true. Who can say no to fate.”

You watched him lick his lips before Lee sat at the computer and tallied up the score. Obviously, Harry had won, to no one’s surprise.

Everyone stood up to say their goodbyes. Lee hugged you as she pulled you toward the exit with Harry and Chris following behind after you’d dropped off your rented shoes, “So, you and Harry?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I don’t know. He invited me to hang out after this. Maybe just a little fun,” you raised your brows and Lee laughed.

Harry had a black motorcycle, which explained the helmet he had with him, that had coincidentally (once again) been parked right next to your little shitter car.

“Where are you parked?” He said as he looked at you. Lee and Chris were already headed away toward their cars.

You pointed to the car right next to Harry’s motorcycle, “That’s me.”

Harry’s eyes took in your old beater and he leaned against the door, “Wanna take a ride with me? I can bring you back to your car later.”

You nodded, “Should I have a helmet?”

Harry raised up the black one that he had, “You’ll wear this. Okay?”

“But what about you?”

Harry inched in closer to you as he unhooked the buckle on the helmet, “I’ll be fine. My place is pretty close if you want to go there,” he raised his brows at you in question.

“Oh. Sure. Okay.” His place.

“Yeah? Did you want to go somewhere else instead?” He pulled the helmet over your head and adjusted the straps as you looked at his face.

“Your place is fine, Harry. I’d like that.”

When he’d fixed the helmet tight to your head he looked at you and lowered his gaze over your frame with a sexy grin, “Cute.”

You’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. Harry got on first and held your hand to help you on behind him, “Put your arms around me and hold on.” Turned out you really enjoyed the ride. The cool night air whipped around your body while the world around you flew by in a fuzzy blur as Harry safely took you to your destination.

You liked sitting behind him and holding onto his waist. The smell of his cologne or soap was fresh and his body was warm. You felt like a different person on the back of that bike with Harry. You didn’t know what to expect exactly but that was part of the thrill.

Harry turned into an apartment complex and parked at the front before helping you off the bike, “This is my place,” he gestured toward the second floor of the building and then helped you take the helmet off. Which you didn’t need him to do but found you loved his attention on you.

Following behind Harry you walked up the steps to the second level and he got to his door and stuck his key in. Before he opened his door he turned to look at you, “Kind of messy inside. Didn’t expect to have company.”

When you stepped in and he turned on the lights you looked around. It was about as messy as seemed appropriate. Nothing crazy. An empty glass of water next to a bowl of what looked like dry cereal on the coffee table, a blanket bunched up on the couch, trainers by the door with socks tucked inside, and some books on the floor next to a chair by the couch.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water? Beer? Uh… that’s really all I’ve got.”

“Nah. I’m good. Thank you, Harry.”

He sat the helmet down on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch, patting the space next to him, “Come here, Cherry.”

You laughed and sat next to him. Harry pushed his arm over your shoulders, his body angled toward you, “You know that day you walked in on me in the bathroom?”

You raised a brow at him, looking up to his face, “Yeah?”

“I kind of wanted to get your number. Is that bad of me since I was there with K?”

You breathed a laugh through your nose, “A little bad. But why? Sounded like you really liked K.”

Harry cackled loudly and his body shook the couch as he gripped your shoulder, “I liked her. But she was just using me for my body,” he teased, “But seriously. You were so cute and then I never saw you again. Thought about you a few times after.”

You grinned as you squinted at him, “You did not think about me after. Seemed you forgot anyone else existed while you were in her bed that night.”

He watched your lips as you spoke and he nodded, “I tend to just give it my all when I’m with someone, casual or not. If other people happen to hear then that’s fine. I’ve got no shame.”

“Clearly,” you grinned.

Harry scrunched his brows and looked over your face, “What do you like, Y/n? Does it bother you when other people can hear you having sex?”

You dropped your mouth open and blinked at him in surprise, “I… Well, first of all, I don’t think anyone has ever overheard me having sex. It tends to be relatively quiet I guess?”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever had sex that was quiet. Unless I’m wanking myself off but that doesn’t count. So you like quiet sex, then?” He smirked at you and tucked his lips into his mouth.

You shook your head, “I just mean I haven’t had loud sex is all,” you smiled, “I think it could be fun. Sounded like it was fun…”

“It was. But I like to have fun. Bet you’d like it too.”

You were caught in the moment with Harry like there was a force that made looking away from him impossible. You smiled shyly and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“How are you this cute?” He lifted his hand up to your cheek and you watched his pupils wind over your features. “Cherry girl with cherry lips,” he settled his gaze on your irises, “Pretty eyes.”

He lowered his hand to brush his knuckles down your neck softly and you closed your eyes at the light touch as you released your bottom lip from your teeth.

“Likes her neck touched,” his voice lowered as he spoke, moving in closer to you, “Probably likes it kissed too. Yeah?”

You opened your eyes to look at him and nodded. You did like your neck kissed, that was true.

His thumb pressed the side of your neck as he looked at the skin under his fingers, “Is it okay if I do? Right here?”

“Yeah,” you spoke in a breath before you felt his warm pink lips on your skin and the whole world melted away the moment you felt his tongue lave up to your jaw.

He pressed gentle kisses down your neck and then up to the lobe of your ear, “Tastes like cherries,” his breath warming your skin and making you breakout in goosebumps as he continued using his mouth and tongue all around your skin, his damp lips leaving traces of his saliva in each spot he kissed.

Your breath deepened as you moved your hand to the top of his thigh, “Oh my god,” you whispered, not even realizing you’d spoken.

Harry smiled as he lowered his lips to the collar of your shirt, dotting the skin just above the fabric with pecks, and then you felt his hand grip the back of your head before his mouth was pressed against yours and now you were in space kissing the man that coincidence (or fate) had brought back into your life.

You moaned into his mouth as you placed your hands on his broad back and he leaned over you, moving your back into the couch and licking the seam of your lips before you pressed your tongue against his.

Soft and smooth kisses slowly became eager and wanton. Harry’s mouth and his hands directed the whole thing. He pushed your legs apart and settled himself down between them, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

When he lowered his mouth to your neck again you let out a helpless gasp and he puffed a laugh against your skin but he didn’t stop. You felt his mouth at the curve of where your neck and shoulder met as his free hand grasped your side, his hips pinning you down. It made you dizzy.

You pulled at his shirt, the material bunching in your hands so you could feel his skin under your palm. He was warm and even his back was strong. You could feel him flexing under your hand as he sat up and slid his shirt off over his head.

You followed suit, pushing yourself to sit up and remove your cherry t-shirt. Harry’s eyes honed in on your bra-covered breasts and he dipped down, cupping both sides with his hands and licking over the thin fabric to wet the spot right over your nipple. You were pushed back down into the couch as Harry’s lips worked over your bra and his hands squeezed.

He moaned as he used his thumb to pull the fabric down slowly and then pressed his lips to the plump skin on your tits where the fabric was pulled down.

“Take it off,” you moaned as Harry’s green eyes settled on yours and he pushed his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. He dropped his mouth to your clavicle as he worked to get your bra undone and when he’d finally had success you felt the material being pulled out from under your back as he dragged the bra from you and draped it over the back of the couch.

He dove in right away. Lips parted, tongue out as he wetted your skin and kissed your nipples one by one.

You put your hands into his hair, thick brown curls between your fingers as he began to lower his lips down to your belly button.

You quickly released his hair and unbuttoned your pants, giving him permission to take them off if he chose.

And he definitely did. With his lips parted and shiny he looked at you as he tugged your jeans down your legs before squeezing at your soft thighs running his palms up to your hips over your panties, “Fucking beautiful.”

He kneaded your tits in his hands again and then softly coaxed his hands down your sides to the tops of your thighs, pressing his fingers into the meat as he took you in.

You saw a grin pull up on his face as he dragged his thumb to the edge of the fabric of your panties, “You like me don’t you?”

You laughed, “Well I think that should be obvious, I’m sitting here in my panties in your apartment.”

Harry looked back down to your panties and smiled, “That you are. I can see just how much you like me too,” he looked up at you as he ran his knuckle down the crotch of your panties and that’s when you realized what he meant. You were wet through your panties.

Out of instinct, you began to close your legs when Harry held your thighs apart and tutted at you, “But guess what? I like you too. Want to get to know you real good, cherry. Wanna know just what you like and how you like it.”

You wiggled your toes as your heart pounded with your legs spread out for Harry to inspect as he pleased.

Harry looked up at you, letting go of your thighs, and began to unzip his jeans, “Wanna see how much I like you?”

You nodded and laughed nervously as you watched him peel his jeans off and you could see the clear erection under his briefs. It was curved to the left a bit, tucked under the band of his underwear until he reached his hand in and positioned his cock upward.

You swallowed. You weren’t sure where to look. His strong thighs, his soft abs, his muscled pecs, or the glorious thick erection bulging at this underwear.

Tonight was your lucky night you decided.

“See? Pretty good match yeah?” He grinned as he smoothed his hands over your thighs again and up to your panties, “What do you want, Y/n? Should we take this further?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

He licked his lips again as he looked at your pretty face, “Okay. How far do you want to go with me?”

You inhaled and blinked your eyes. You wanted it all. Wanted whatever he wanted. Hoped he wanted to fuck you with that big thing but you weren’t sure that’s what he meant. Maybe he didn’t–“

Harry leaned over you and cupped your jaw gently, “Seems you’re overthinking a little so I’ll make this easy for you. I’ll tell you what I want and you just tell me if you like that or not. Okay?”

You nodded.

“First I want to touch you, under your panties. Get my fingers nice and wet, finger you a little. Then I want to taste it. Lick you up and down, make you feel good. Then I want to take you to my bed and have loud sex with you so everyone can hear how good I’m making you feel, how good you’re making me feel. Sound good?”

A cracked moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “Yeah. I like that.”

Harry’s grin widened as he let go of your face and brought both hands down to your panties, “Good. Then let’s get rid of these.”

You felt the wetness on the fabric as they were moved down your legs and then Harry’s fingers were running through your labia up and down. His eyes focused on your bare pussy.

When he pressed over your clit he watched your face and hissed when he saw your brows scrunch up and your lips part, “Right there, yeah? You like that?”

You nodded with your bottom lip bit into your mouth, looking from his face to where his thumb was pressed.

He used his free hand to push at your thigh as he continued stroking his fingers up and down, glazing his digits in your arousal before you felt him press at your entrance slowly.

“Open up for me, cherry… there we go, sweet girl. Fuck me…” he watched as he pressed two fingers inside slowly, your pussy wet and puffy. “So pretty. Look at tha’” he watched his fingers slide in and out and back in to his knuckles with the gushy sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers.

“Oh god…” you breathed out your words when he put his thumb back over your clit and began to press and circle as he continued pressing his fingers through your walls.

And the way he fingered you was only making you more wet, making you feel desperate. You moaned and ran your hands up your tummy to your tits, as you watched Harry’s arms flex as he fucked his fingers into you and stroked your front wall.

“Fuck that smells so good, cherry,” he kept his eyes on your cunt as he lowered himself down, “Gotta have some of this.”

It couldn’t have gotten any better than it was. Harry’s fingers already felt better than they should’ve but it did, in fact, get better. Because his big mouth and wide tongue on your clit had you unable to think straight as you let out a whine.

He kept his long fingers inside of you as he focused his lips and tongue on your clit. He could have taught a masterclass on cunnilingus. Even your toy didn’t feel like this. And it was a really good toy.

“Oh fuck!” You cried when he sucked your clit gently, using his tongue to press as he did so. The sound was lewd with his mouth on your pussy and his fingers tucked deep inside of you.

You’d need to bring him with you everywhere if this was how he did it. That toy was not going to cut it now that you’d felt how good it could really be.

When you’d finally lifted your head to look down at him you saw his eyes already opened, looking up at you as he swiped his tongue over your button, pink lips winding over your pussylips and up to your clit.

He let go of your thigh as he reached up for one of your hands and pushed his fingers between yours. You clung to his hand tight and gasped.

The gesture was so intimate, so sexy. It felt like everything he was doing was truly to make you feel good. He wasn’t rushing to get you off. The care and attention he gave you made you feel hot and shaky.

You couldn’t take your eyes off his as he worked your pussy and you began to shake.

You were putty in his hands. Totally unable to stop the unwinding of the tight coil in your tummy as you squeezed his hand and he moaned into your cunt.

And it happened so fast. The snap of your orgasm seemed to even shock Harry as his eyes widened when you began to come in his mouth.

He kept his mouth on you and his fingers inside of you as you cried out and threw your head back. He didn’t let go of your hand, keeping you grounded as every other part of you liquified and then evaporated into the atmosphere. The only parts of your body that remained intact, throbbing, and aching were your pussy and your hand. Only the parts he touched were whole. Everything else was hot liquid soaked into the couch.

Your chest heaved and your brain was fuzzy as he finally pulled his fingers from your hole and looked down at you, “Did you come?” The grin on his face told you he was being playful.

You laughed as you watched him wipe the edge of his mouth with his thumb and lick the mess up, his eyes on you.

And just like he said he wanted to do, he took you to his bed. He helped you up onto your wobbly legs and then kissed your lips, smearing your arousal all over your mouth. The kiss did nothing to make your legs feel solid but rather made you feel even weaker. So his assistance was very much needed to put you into his bed.

His room was lit with a lamp and his sheets felt clean as he pulled the blankets back for you and tucked a pillow under your head.

You watched him take his underwear off and then pull a condom from his drawer before he climbed onto the bed next to you, “Still want more?” He raised his brows at you in question.

You nodded and smiled, “Yeah. I do.” You couldn’t take your eyes off his cock, though. You absolutely wanted more. You wanted the whole shebang and if there was anything you knew about Harry it was that he could provide exactly that.

He grinned at you as he tore the wrapper and gripped himself at the tip, stroking down to coat himself in the bit of precome that had leaked from his slit before putting the condom over his impossibly hard cock. His entire cock was thick. From tip to base. It looked… heavy. It looked like it was going to tear you in half.

Harry watched as you ogled him. He didn’t mind. He was pretty proud of it himself. As he pushed himself up to his knees he pulled your legs apart and settled between your thighs.

He pushed his hips in close to yours and let his cock fall over your pelvis and up to your low tummy, measuring his size in comparison to you. You looked down from where his daunting cock lay heavy over you up to his face.

“I want it…” you breathed your words and Harry’s dimples smiled as he smirked at you.

“Oh, yeah? Want my cock inside your pussy, Cherry? Wanna feel it all the way up here?” He pressed over your low tummy and you moaned loudly.

Harry moved his hips back and then gripped his base as he dragged his cock through your drenched pussy, “Want me to fuck this soft pussy, slip in and out until you can’t handle it anymore?”

You nodded, “Please…”

“Please? How sweet. You are a sweet girl, aren’t you? I like sweet girls, Cherry, and you might be the sweetest one yet.”

Harry teased your pussy some more, his cockhead smoothing up and down, pushing your arousal up to your clit until you began to squirm under him and let out a small whimper.

He laughed as he finally stopped torturing you and pressed his thick crown to your entrance, pressing his bulbous crown to your entrance before he began to push through your tight, wet ring.

You gasped when you felt him entering you, slowly pushing your insides apart until he was tucked deep inside of you. He let out a deep breath when he finally had the luxury of feeling your hot pussy wrapped around him.

He thrust in again, bottoming out until his balls pressed against your ass. And again. And again.

He worked you open until he was satisfied that you were ready for more and then he leaned over you, his hands down next to your shoulders with his eyes on you, and began sinking into you so deep you thought you saw stars limning your vision.

“Your pussy feels just as good as it tastes, Cherry,” he moaned before he began to rock into you with more force, and you could hear the sound of his body smacking into yours each time he plunged in.

“Umph…” you grunted when he dipped in sharp.

“Yeah? Deep isn’t it? Pussy needed stuffed properly. Hm?”

Your body was being pounded into and there were no words that could form on your lips as your tits jolted up and down.

“Let me hear you, Cherry. Let me hear how good it feels. I can tell your pussy loves this, so wet and puffy for me…” his voice was shaky as he railed into you, “Am I treating you right, baby?”

You coughed out a moan and nodded your head as you held on to his forearms, “God! Fuck yes, Harry! Oh fuck!”

Harry’s own moan was loud as he watched your face twist up and listened to the way your pussy took his big cock.

“Yeah? Fuck that feels good, doesn’t it? Pretty thing was made to be fucked. Pussy so sweet needs to have her insides split open every day. Hm?” Harry was breathing hard between words.

“Oh my god… yes. Yes!”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and pulled you up so you were sitting on his lap as he spread his thighs for leverage to continue fucking into you. You yelped at the change of position and how deep he felt inside.

The new angle had his tip slamming into your guts and you grabbed onto his strong shoulders while his hands held your ass, guiding you over him.

Your body flopped up and down on his cock and against his pelvis as he sunk into you over and over again, his hips hammering up into yours.

You began to roll your hips down, smushing your button against him for friction as he continued thrusting upward.

When you finally let out a choked moan Harry gasped and pulled you in by the back of your neck to kiss your mouth. Soft licks against your tongue as your pussy was getting fucked into, had you beginning to shake and fall off the edge of the earth again.

Harry parted from the kiss and held you down on his lap, keeping his dick nudged against your cervix, “Already, Cherry?” He gently rolled upward, “Gonna come on my cock so soon? Can you hold off for a bit longer?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, “Yes. Sorry.”

“Shh… shh… Nothing to be sorry about. Means you like it,” he rutted up into you with a grin before laying you down to your back again, pushing your legs apart.

He began to push into you, his hips slamming against yours making his bed creak and your pussy clench around him. You didn’t know if you could hang on much longer as your thighs began to quiver. His cock was coaxing another orgasm from your body without you even focusing on it, which you normally had to do when you had sex. It was as if you had no say in whether your body should come or not.

“Shit!” He slowed his motions a little and leaned over you to brush his fingers along your cheekbone, “Are you okay?” He laughed as he asked.

You nodded, “I’m gonna come, Harry. I’m sorry I can’t stop it. If you fuck me like that…” Your rounded eyes and heavy breaths had Harry’s heart feverishly pounding.

“It’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong, Cherry. You just needed a good fucking didn’t you?”

You nodded and pulled your lips into your mouth.

“Yeah. That’s good, then. We’ll give you a nice good fucking,” he slowly pulled out to his tip and languidly moved himself back in making you moan.

“We can go nice and slow,” he repeated his motions, his thighs flexing as he held himself steady to fuck into you in long strokes, “Getting you all creamy. Hear it, Cherry?”

You did hear it as you nodded with a whine. The wetness coming from your pussy. The way his cock fucked your cream into your cunt. The way it sounded when he buried himself into the hilt and ground his hips against yours.

Harry watched your face scrunch up and your moans grow louder as he pushed his way into your tummy until he knew you couldn’t hold on any longer.

He sat back and fucked into you faster as he pressed his hand over your tummy, putting pressure on the spot where his cock was sliding through your insides and you lost it. You cried out his name and gurgles of nonsense as the frame of the bed began to rock into the wall and Harry coughed out a laugh at the way you began to thrash around on his cock.

He watched as he rutted into you, his cock disappearing into your cunt, your slick arousal all over his base and in his pubic hair.

You clamped down on him with your legs wobbly and he felt your walls contracting, squeezing his cock tight. He snapped his hips forward, pressing through your spasming cunt as his balls slapped into your ass and he moaned with you.

“Fuck! There you go, honey! Coming on my cock, yeah? Oh shit…” he watched your body press up each time he slammed into you, your face in ecstasy, and your wet pussy swallowing him whole as he finally began to come, releasing into his condom with a groan, “Draining my cock, cherry. Ohhh, ffff…”

Harry punched through your slick opening with the thick crown of his cock as he gushed into the rubber surrounding his dick until he stilled his hips and ground into you, swiveling in circles to empty every drop of himself.

You could feel him pumping inside of you, the heavy throbbing in his dick as he unloaded his sperm.

You both gasped when you’d finished and he lowered himself to kiss you hard. His hands cradled your face as his sensitive dick twitched inside of you.

Lifting your knees you wrapped your legs around his low back and he brought you down to your side, leaving you both connected fully, still kissing, his cock still deep inside of you.

The wave of euphoria that covered your entire being had you feeling so relaxed and so at peace you sighed and pushed your fingers into his hair.

You were surprised by your reaction to how he fucked you. And you wished you could have gone longer but he was so good, or… you didn’t know what it was exactly.

Harry parted from the kiss, keeping his face close to yours, “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with it.”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex? I don’t mean masturbating either. Just curious.”

You squinted and looked toward the corner of the room before putting your eyes back on his, “Like, maybe a year? Something like that.”

Harry’s thumb grazed your cheek, “A year? So that means when you were living with K at that time you hadn’t had sex since before that even.”

You grinned and nodded, “I was in university. It was my senior year and I was super focused. And it just didn’t happen.”

“Poor thing. No wonder you were so sensitive to me. Came so fast, Cherry.”

You laughed, “I know. It’s never been like that before. Surprised me too.”

“I’m glad we met again. Feels like we should honor the universe and stick together for a while. Stay the night with me?”

You puffed out a laugh and rolled your eyes, “Let’s honor the universe. Obviously, she wants us to have sex and hang out.”

Harry watched your eyes crinkle up as you grinned and he chuckled, “She really does. I’m sure of it. So that’s a yes?”

You scratched your nails along the back of Harry’s head and smiled at him, “It’s definitely a yes.”

. .

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[14dayswithyou]

Some long-term followers may have noticed this subtle shift already (especially those who are in the 14DWY Discord server or have read this post), but I figured I'd make it official.

I'm no longer associating myself with the yandere VN community.

The TLDR is that the energy here really fuckin SUCKS!! And I don't want to be part of something so hostile and needlessly competitive.

The constant infighting and epicaricacy between communities is deeply upsetting, and it's very disheartening to see aspiring developers cancel their projects because of the unwarranted backlash and harassment they face.

Some entitled folks on here reeeeally need to understand that constantly harassing others for updates, encouraging developers to belittle others to make themselves/their project look better, complaining about a project not meeting the expectations you specifically put in place, attacking other communities because of the parasocial relationship you share with another developer, getting mad that you chose to ignore important PSAs or warnings and faced the repercussions, or even sending in hate messages on anon because you're bored are not things you should be doing — let alone be proud of.

I try to avoid bringing up these topics as it's not the vibe I want to have on this blog (nor do I want to negatively contribute to the Streisand Effect and blow things out of proportion), but I'm genuinely getting tired of being on the receiving end of all this harassment and negativity, seeing it happen to others, and watching other indie developers encourage such vile behaviour. I'm done.

For those wondering what this means for "14 Days With You": for the most part, everything will still continue like usual. I've said this from the very beginning, but 14DWY is just a passion project I pursue whenever I feel like it. It's something I do for fun as a hobby — not because I want to publish a well-known game or turn it into a career. I've been on Tumblr for over thirteen years now, and it's taught me how to grow thick skin, so everything that I'm yapping and yammering about won't stop me from working on 14DWY.

However, this does mean that I won't be as interactive with other developers or their communities anymore; many ill-natured people have ruined this for me.

Because of them, I'm no longer able to voice my opinion on other games without some opinionated rat whispering in my ear about how the developer is "problematic" or that I could get cancelled for simply following them on Twitter. I can't interact with certain games without its parasocial community becoming hostile or gatekeepy towards anyone they don't like. I've seen communities belittle and devalue promising demos because in their eyes, nothing can compare to their favourite game (or their favourite developer). I have been harassed, bullied, and doxxed by other communities and have seen the same thing happen to others as well. I've heard about the developers who weaponise their community's loyalty to attack and drive out their competition. And I've witnessed more than enough developers expressing how badly they want to take a hiatus due to how much unwarranted negativity they receive, but don't want to disappoint their community by doing so.

By saying all of this, you can understand why I dislike being here so much, as well as why I no longer find any enjoyment in interacting with the yandere VN community.

Many people here — fans and developers alike — are so needlessly pushy about their standards and personal opinions being the norm, and if anyone else goes against them, they'll purposefully try to ostracise and bully them out of the community. This place isn't as laid-back or inclusive as it used to be, and I don't want to be associated with a community that acts so hostile and aggressive towards anyone who shares a differing opinion — nor do I want to be part of a space that caters towards developers who'll tear down others in order to have a moment of relevancy.

We're all doing our own thing and making our own games; it shouldn't be a competition. But if you see it as such, then I urge you to take a moment to stop and rethink your actions — or, at the very least, understand how it's affecting you and others around you.

So until there's a reasonable change and people can go back to being less... demanding, hypercritical, and gatekeepy about who interacts with what, I'll be stepping away and continuing to stay in my own bubble, as I have for the past two years now. I've already unfollowed everyone associated with the yandere community many months ago, but I think I'll just unfollow everyone entirely now for my own peace of mind. I will also no longer be interacting with any yandere VN communities (aside from close friends), nor will I be as public with my interests from this moment on. Everything on this blog will be strictly related to 14DWY like usual, and I will continue to block and report any spiteful "anons"/burner accounts sent my way and delete their messages.

Again, this isn't really much of an announcement — it's more so just paragraphs of me bitchin and moanin 🫶 — but I wanted to get this all out there instead of leaving things unsaid and having people come to their own conclusions as to why I've suddenly become less active, less optimistic, and why I've stopped engaging with a majority of the yandere community in the last two years.

So, yeah... ^^; If there's anything I want y'all to take away from this entire post, it's to be kind, open, and understanding towards everyone — developers and communities alike — and to spread support rather than negativity. It's what I want my own community to be known for, so please be mindful of how you treat others online.

And if you find yourself being surrounded by constant toxicity and negativity (be it from friends, mutuals, or even other developers or communities), please don't feel ashamed to step away or cut them off entirely. Put yourself and your mental health first. I also think it'll be good for me to leave all this negative energy behind and continue to kick off 2025 in a better light, so if y'all need to let out any frustrations of your own, feel free to go ham in the replies (obviously, be kind and civil though jghsjg T_T)

[allllium]

Comfort

~ Some Sappy Jason Todd x Reader

~ Playing with Jason's Hair

~ Fluff, a little overthinking, WC: 981

- You play with Jason's Hair -

You are usually very good at understanding things about your boyfriend, Jason. It took you no time at all to find about his nightly activities and everything about his family. But on the other hand, you can't seem to understand him at all.

You've tried not to ask him about certain things because based on hints from his family, he's had some bad shit happen in his life.

However, the more questions you don't ask, the more that seem to pop up.

You haven't asked him why sometimes he flinches away when you touch him but other times he leans in.

You haven't asked him why his hands make fists when you're trying to sleep at night.

You haven't asked him about the scar along his chest or his aversion to certain foods.

All because you're too scared to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because you don't know if you could stomach it.

You're laying bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Somehow, you take less time getting ready for bed than he does. You suspect it's because he needs a couple minutes to process everything that happened during the day.

As usual you have a million thoughts running through you're head all at the same time. 99% of them are about him.

When he finally comes into your shared bedroom and gets comfortable in bed, you're debating whether or not to talk to him about some of the things you can't get out of your mind.

You decide against it. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or bring up any bad memories that might affect his ability to sleep through the night.

He can obviously sense your unease, you don't hide it very well.

"What's wrong?" His raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Nothing, sweetheart." You try to play it off.

"Uh huh." He says blankly.

"I'm just thinking about things, is that a crime?"

"Depends on what they are." He pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Nothing bad."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If someone's bothering you, you should tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Well I have an ability of getting rid of people."

"Oh my God Jason you can't joke about that." You look at him in amused shock.

"Who says it's a joke?" He asks, face completely serious.

"Okay no killing people on my behalf." You chuckle and he copies. "I'm just trying to figure you out more."

"Why?"

"Cuz I want to know more about you?"

"Like what"

"Right now I want to know what you want." You pull away from him in order to sit up a little bit.

"I don't want anything at the moment."

"Yes you do. If you didn't want anything your fists wouldn't be clenched and your eyes wouldn't have that look. Like you want to say something but can't."

"You really want to know?" He asks.

"Yeah I really do." You immediately reply.

"A couple months ago while we were watching a movie on the couch, you played with my hair and it was very comforting. And the best sleep I've ever had."

"That's it? I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of explanations and you're telling me you just want me to play with your hair." You question him in disbelief. It's been months of overthinking thoughts and random mind rampages for something you haven't even noticed you were doing.

"I didn't know how to say it." He shrugs, not looking into your eyes. "It sounds childish."

"No it doesn't. Everyone has different ideas of perfect comfort and I happen to agree with yours. Jason, if you want something from me all you have to do is ask."

You lean over to give him a quick, sweet kiss.

"I'm not used to that."

"Well you better get started."

"Fine, would you play with hair so I can go to sleep, Angel?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

It takes a second for you both to get rearranged so it's comfortable. You're now laying on your back with Jason half on his side, half on top of you with his head on your chest.

It's almost amusing how quickly he falls asleep but above all else you feel a sense of pride at the fact that you're the one giving him this feeling.

He said this was comforting. He said this was the best sleep he's ever had.

And you're the reason he's having these things.

You stay up longer than you probably should have. This time the thoughts running through your head aren't worrying or overwhelming.

They make you happy. Happy enough to fall into a very sound sleep.

You wake up to coffee on your nightstand and a missing Jason.

"Jason." You call out and he quickly comes running.

When he walks in the room, you immediately begin questioning him.

"What is this?" You ask with an ounce of suspicion. You're worried it's a repayment of some sort.

"It's coffee. A hot caffeinated drink."

"Why?"

"Because you like it and it makes you irritable for far less time in the morning."

"Jason you don't have to do things for me just because I did something for you."

"Yes I do. Because words won't let me explain how grateful I am for you."

"Since when are you so sappy?"

He sits on the bed next to you.

"Don't be mean to me right now, I'll take it away."

"Fine. Continue your speech."

"I know it's a small thing for you but I haven't felt comfort like you give me in a very long time. Maybe even ever. And I need you to know that."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to give that to you."

The next thing you know, you both have giant grins on your faces and you're both happier than ever before.

[rnelodyy]

I just figured out what made Spamton and Jevil go insane

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 4

It was the Prophecy.

Let's start with Jevil, which mostly turned into talking about Seam, since it's hard to get a coherent word out of Jevil himself.

Talking to King in chapter 4 and picking "Jester" nets you the following dialogue:

The phrasing here is what I specifically want to point out, because it's framed less like Jevil gave King instructions on how to rise to power, and more like Jevil was PREDICTING King's rise to power.

But like most things Jevil, our bombshells when it comes to him come from Seam.

This dialogue should be familiar, it's one of the first things we learned about Jevil outside of his bossfight, and our main hint connecting him to Gaster. Him saying things that both did and didn't make sense to me suggests the Prophecy, but that may also be confirmation bias.

But it's THIS dialogue that I really wanted to highlight here.

Seam's worldview is EXTREMELY nihilistic. While they don't outright discourage you from going on your adventures, they seem amused at the fact that you're even trying at all. On top of this, Seam has a lot of dialogue about stuff they could not reasonably know about, either because it happened nowhere near them, or it hasn't happened yet.

They knows about the super bosses and the Shadow Crystals you can collect from them:

They know about Mettaton designing Spamton NEO's body:

They know about the Knight ambushing you at the end of Chapter 3, and how you need the Shadow Mantle to beat it (unless you're a tryhard):

And they know about the Old Man as well:

(There's one more piece of dialogue that's relevant here, but I'm going to save that for when I talk about Spamton.)

This is a quality that Seam shares with Jevil, as Jevil neatly predicts Queen's appearance in Chapter 2 if you defeat him with violence:

All of this combined, to me, implies that the "strange words" Jevil told Seam were, in fact, the Prophecy he got from Gaster. The reason Seam is so nihilistic is because they already know exactly what's going to happen... specifically, the Roaring is coming, and there's nothing they can do to stop it.

There's only one thing that seems to genuinely surprise them: defeating the Knight in Chapter 3.

...which later prompts this dialogue.

The fact that we did something Seam, someone who knows the Prophecy, genuinely wasn't expecting, gives them hope. Because that could mean that the Prophecy isn't set in stone, and the Roaring may yet be averted.

Now lets move on to Spamton, because Chapter 3 gave us a LOT more to work with there. Spamton's backstory specifically gave me the idea for this theory, because a lot of things about it start making sense when viewed through this lens.

Spamton was an unsuccessful salesman who dreamed of making it big. One day, he was contacted by someone (Gaster) on the phone, and suddenly all of his businesses skyrocketed, becoming so successful that he got a room in Queen's mansion. However, one day the person who contacted him stopped calling, and his entire life came crashing down around him to the point that he ended up homeless and living in a dumpster.

This didn't make sense to me at first. If Gaster was just giving him business advice, taking that away shouldn't have allowed his empire to collapse overnight. What makes more sense is that Gaster was telling Spamton parts of the Prophecy, specifically the parts on how he was going to make it big. All Spamton had to do is follow Gaster's advice, and he'd become the BIG SHOT he'd always wanted to be.

As a bit of extra proof for this, here's seemingly random bit of dialogue from Seam.

Someone who knows the Prophecy using it to see the future in order to beat the Addisons specifically? That seems like a pretty obvious hint.

Chapter 3 also tells us more about Spamton's relationship with Tenna. Spamton and Tenna used to be business partners, with Tenna wanting to learn what made Spamton a BIG SHOT in the first place. But then...

It's implied that this is when Spamton stopped receiving calls. So why exactly did Gaster stop calling?

Because Tenna is in the Prophecy. Specifically, the part about him getting cut down by the Knight (I'd add a screenshot here but I cannot fucking find it, it is in there, trust me).

Gaster was most likely aware that, if Tenna found out about his pre-destined death, he'd try to find a way to prevent it, or at the very least get better at watching his back. So, he called Spamton to say he was cutting him off, and without the Prophecy giving him advice, everything came crashing down around him.

As a result, Spamton is obsessed with finding a way to learn more about the Prophecy, and how to use it to predict the future again. He wants to be big enough to see past the darkness obscuring that knowledge from him.

As such, he recruits Kris into helping him see past the bounds of reality and find the full Prophecy. That's what [Hyperlink Blocked] is. It's literally a broken hyperlink to the Prophecy.

But if you do the Weird Route, you're likely going directly against the Prophecy. Things that are specifically pre-ordained do not happen in the Weird Route - most clearly seen with Ralsei's reaction to Susie and Noelle not going on their ferris wheel ride.

Ralsei has full knowledge of the Prophecy, and is understandably freaking the fuck out when he realizes we have just done something that directly contradicts it.

And what does Spamton have to say about your Weird Route antics?

We don't need his Prophecy anymore, because we're making our own.

But that does leave a question though. If Spamton was destined to make it big, why did he need Gaster's help? Why did his empire collapse as soon as Gaster stopped helping, if his success was pre-determined? Why did Gaster need to tell Jevil how to get King into power, and to get him to worship the Knight?

Why does Gaster's involvement specifically seem to change the Prophecy?

Because Gaster is the one writing it.

[g4rvez-r3id]

One Bed…

S6! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You and Reid get paired together in a hotel room after a case, only to discover there’s only one bed in the hotel room. And that said hotel room is freezing.

Category: Fluff!

Warnings: established friendship, age gap between reid & reader (8 years, spencer is 29, reader is 21/22), takes place mid-season 6, pre-lauren storyline- all basic criminal minds themes, (nothing too graphic, just mentions of a case)- mentions of 4x07 “Memoriam”, 4x26 “…And Back”, 5x01 “Faceless, Nameless”, reid is a reduced to a dummy when it comes to women, teasing, mutual crushing, cuddling, all the fluff! slowburn (?) that should cover it(?)

Author’s Note: hey, lovelies! this is my first time writing on tumblr so please take it easy on me, it’s my first time doing this, haha! my specialty is wattpad and this was originally an idea i had for one of my books but i realized it more so fit reid x reader so here y’all are!! <3

It was a pretty tough case. The ones with children always were, at least. Since it was now the nighttime, everyone had headed back to their hotel for the night. They would be flying home early the very next day.

Hotch had told the team that they would all have to share their rooms as they headed up to the third floor, where all of their rooms were. Hotch handed Emily, Morgan, you and Reid two keycards so they could figure out how they were rooming.

Naturally, Hotch and Rossi went to go share a room. You looked over at Emily, but realized she soon called the room with Morgan. You furrowed her brows at Emily and the woman shrugs, “You snore.”

You deny the rumor and shake your head, “I don’t snore.” Morgan and Emily chuckle to themselves as Morgan opens up their room door with one of the keycards.

“It don’t matter,” Morgan replied. “You’re still sharing a room with Reid.” He tosses over yours and Reid’s keycard to you and you catch it with a sigh as you watch the two disappear into their hotel room.

You turn around and look over at Reid, who is showing off his tight-lipped smile, and holding his satchel strap on his shoulder. He almost looks sad at your reaction to you two sharing a room together. “S-Sorry.” He apologizes, not exactly knowing what he’s sorry for once he says it.

You shake your head and furrow your brows at Reid. “Oh, don’t be sorry, Reid. I’d rather actually share a room with you than either of them.” You lean closer and whisper a bit. “They both snore.”

“We heard that!” Morgan and Emily shout from the other room.

“You were meant to!” You shout back.

Reid has a small smile protruding onto his face as he looks down and you nudge your head towards the room next door. “Come on, I’m wiped.” You yawn, holding the keycard in her hand.

As soon as you open the door, you’re full on expecting two beds — one you’re expecting to crash on after your nightmare of a case and the other you expect Reid to be reading on for the rest of the night, since he barely sleeps enough as it is.

Once you opened that door, your heart dropped. “Oh, my God.” You groan as you throw your head to the ceiling in disbelief and Reid peeks over your shoulder to see what the issue is.

You’re both staring at a menacing queen sized bed, right in the middle of the room.

You chuckle to yourself in disbelief. Of course, you and Reid were stuck with the room that only had one bed. This was bound to happen at some point with the amount of times you’ve had to share a room together. But this was different now that you realized you had a crush not too long ago.

You’d had a bad morning so far. You forgot to set your alarm clock, your coffee machine broke and you wound up with a stain on the shirt you were planning on wearing today to work.

This day could not have possibly gotten worse when you’d taken the Metro this morning and dealt with the crowd of people standing near the door and had to fight your way through them in order to get out.

But your morning ended up taking a turn for the better when you’d walked up to your desk to find your coffee order with a chocolate cake pop next to it.

You looked over at Reid and he smiled at you, guiltily and that’s when you realized he’d be the only person that makes a bad day turn better. And that these feelings you were hiding were blossoming into more.

It didn’t help that Morgan also teased you about it, saying how the pretty boy is falling for the pretty girl and how he didn’t manage to get his or Emily’s coffee orders like he did with you.

And then, you’d fallen hard.

And you worried that this was only going to make it worse.

Both you and Reid looked at one another and you sighed as you placed her go-bag next to the bed.

“I can just sleep on the floor.” Reid offers, already settling his stuff on the floor.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “No, you don’t have to do that, it’s fine.” And you feel bad that he even suggested it to you.

“No, I insist. I don’t- I don’t sleep that much anyways. And you could use the rest.” He told, no hint of annoyance in his voice as he spoke.

You looked back on the bed. You couldn’t ask him to do that. Not for you, as much as the gesture seemed polite. But you’d feel bad if he didn’t at least get a few hours of sleep on a nice bed rather than a hard floor.

Which is why, after their nighttime routines, you were placing pillows in between yourself and Reid. Reid had noticed the goosebumps on your skin as you fixed the pillows between them. He saw that you opted for a white top and sweatpants to wear to bed. No doubt you were freezing.

“This is a pillow barrier. We cannot cross the pillow barrier. The pillow barrier prevents any contact. So, it’s not… weird. Okay?” You explained and Reid nodded to your words. “Okay.”

With that, you turned off the lamp on your bedside and Reid’s was still on because he was currently reading. His book tonight was The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. You’d been the only one who he talked to about it, something about science fiction short stories and how it was his twelfth time reading it.

Your heart absolutely fluttered that day he talked about it, the light in his eyes gleaming with excitement as his mouth moved quickly to explain what he was reading to you. You often hated when Morgan or JJ would quiet him down due to his rambling, but you loved every minute of it.

(Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that you’ve been harboring a massive crush on him ever since you joined the bureau nearly three years ago.)

An hour or so had passed and Reid had finally gone to bed. But your slumber was being interrupted by the freezing cold air every hour or so. You were confused on how a hotel room could be so freaking cold.

You turned over to see Reid’s backside and realized that one of the pillows had been removed from the pillow barrier and then realized you were the one that had been holding the pillow.

But you held onto it even tighter when the cold air touched your skin and you moved deeper into the covers. Doing so, you realized your foot nudged against Reid’s leg. You also noticed that Reid was still awake because he turned his head over to the girl.

“S-Sorry.” You muttered as you burrowed yourself deeper in the covers. Reid then sat up and turned the lamp on. “Are you cold?” He asked.

“J-J-Just a little.” You admitted, teeth chattering as you spoke. It had to have been below 40 degrees in this room. Reid stood up from his side of the bed and you felt him get up and you turned over to see what he was doing.

You then saw Reid had reached into his bag and picked up one of his sweaters. It was his red cardigan sweater he’d worn just about a couple of cases back. He was gonna wear it tomorrow before they left but he hadn’t had a use for it at the moment.

“Here,” Reid spoke, tossing the cardigan to you on the bed. “You need it more than I do.” You didn’t bother to get out of the covers as you put it on and wrapped it around your body.

“Sorry I woke you up.” You apologized to Reid as he got back in the covers. “No, it’s fine. I was already awake.” Reid stated, turning the lamp on before getting deep in the covers as well.

“You never went to bed?” You asked. “Can’t really attempt to sleep when all you can hear is teeth chattering nonstop.” Reid told, and you chuckled a bit through your shivers. “Sorry.” She said. “It’s okay, really. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Reid admitted and you turned over to him.

You two looked into each other’s eyes and you’d scooted back a bit, realizing you were getting way too close. No, no, don’t think about kissing his perfect lips, right now. But you felt the heat radiating off of his body practically.

“Any facts on how to stay warm?” You joked and Reid shrugged. “Well, there’s warm beverages like hot tea and coffee that could help you stay warm. Moving around at least once an hour and avoid sitting still for long periods. Even light exercise will help keep you warm. There’s also—”

Reid then stopped himself and you furrowed her eyebrows at him. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Oh, this is usually where most people stop me from droning on an on.” He said. “I’m aware that I tend to ramble a lot.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” You told and Reid was left confused for a moment. “Go on.” You encouraged.

You always loved his quirks, his personality, his rambling, the way he often sported cashmere cardigans and mismatched socks because he thought it was good luck. Everything about him you just seemed to enjoy. And he didn’t seem to realize it until now.

Spencer smiled to himself a bit and carried on with his last sentence, hoping to God it wouldn’t sound strange suggesting it. “There’s, uh, also sharing, uh… body heat with… someone. The rate of heat transferred from one body to another increases with the difference in temperature between them. Consequently, the rate of heat lost from a human to the surrounding very cold ambient environment is lower than the rate of heat lost from a human to another human. Like, cuddling, for example, it actually has warming benefits.” He explained, finishing off with his signature tight-lipped smile.

“Cuddling?” You questioned, raising a brow at Reid.

Reid looked at you and realized that maybe you viewed that fact as him trying to cuddle with you and felt as if he was initiating something that he didn’t mean to initiate.

“Not-Not-Not that I, uh, was suggesting that, uh… we-we should, no, I do-did-didn’t—” After stuttering numerous times, Reid nearly just shut up completely and was happy that you had finally decided to interrupt him.

“No, it’s, uh,” You sat up a bit. “It’s actually not a bad idea.” It was Reid’s turn to be confused now as he raised a brow at you this time. “I mean, if you are-if you are… uh, com-comfortable with it… that is.”

Reid’s mouth is open in shock and you close your eyes, now realizing how it sounds. “Oh, God, this just got weird. Uh, how about I just sleep on the floor tonight?”

“No!” Reid answered immediately and you looked back at him, in shock on how fast he denied that. He clears his throat. “I mean, I don’t-I don’t mind. As long as, uh, y-you don’t?” He finished off in rather a question than a statement.

“Uhm, not-not at all. I’m freezing anyways.” It took a second for either one to move so you just started off by removing the rest of the pillow barrier between them. It a simple start to a grand finale.

Since Reid was very inexperienced on how to handle things with girls involved, you kind of just took the lead. You then hesitantly put your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat going 100 miles per hour as you did so.

Reid felt like he didn’t know where to put his hands and immediately settled his right arm around your waist. You kind of found it cute at how flustered he seemed. You wrapped her arm around his slender torso, holding onto him.

In the midst of getting comfortable, the heat radiated off both of their bodies and you snuggled closer subconsciously if anything. Reid’s head rested on top of yours as you moved closer.

“This, uh, this isn’t weird, right?” You asked, beating yourself up for even asking. “Not weird at all.” Reid assured, answering rather quickly. “I think it’s best if we don’t mention this at all to the team, though—” You nod faintly, “I agree.” She said. “They’d never let us live it down. This is purely because I’m cold, that’s it.” Reid agrees, “Yes, that’s all it is.”

She could see Morgan and Emily’s teasing and Garcia’s prying from a mile away. There was absolutely no way they’d live down the harrowing embarrassment.

“Do you think, you could like… I don’t know, give me like some… random facts about something?” You asked and Reid didn’t quite understand what you were asking. “It would really help me sleep.” You added, knowing you could listen to him all day if you wanted. And he’d secretly hoped you wanted to.

So, Reid decided to ramble about anything necessary. It started off with some minor body heating facts, then about numbers, then Doctor Who, then the hotel building’s history and the architecture.

What Reid didn’t realize was that you’d had fallen asleep as soon as he started talking about Doctor Who and he should’ve realized sooner when you stopped asking questions and started responding with ‘mm-hmm’ every few seconds until you were finally lulled to sleep.

He finally came to a stop around 3:30am and noticed that the teeth chattering had finally stopped. He looked down at you and had taken account of your features like he hadn’t before.

Your nose that scrunched up when you slept and had an itch to scratch. Her eyelids hiding the orbs he’d admire once in a while when you looked his way. Her lips (that were in dire need of chapstick at the moment) but nonetheless looked… good. Definitely not kissable. Your hair, which was currently to your shoulders once you cut it on a whim. He never told you but he liked it at this length. He preferred your hair longer when it was but you could suit anything and he’d still think you were pretty.

Yes, he’d admit it — Spencer Reid thought you were pretty.

There was a total of five times in his life now that he realized he may have a slight crush on you.

The first time being when you walked into the bullpen that first day. You started off with a consult on the case and he admittedly thought you very pretty and Garcia and Emily teased him for it. But he was allowed to think you were pretty without liking you. But when it came to it, he was stuttering like an idiot and his facts surrounding the case were running 100 miles an hour in his brain and Emily said something about his IQ being slashed to 60. That’s when he knew something was up. He never got like this before. But of course, he’d never admit it.

The second time was when you defended him in Las Vegas when he thought his dad murdered Riley Jenkins. When Morgan and Rossi were giving him a hard time, you’d taken his side. It didn’t help that you’d also had issues with your own father. He always knew he could relate to you with the daddy issues — it’s probably the reason why you two ended up so close. You’d stuck by his side during the whole thing and he’d known you wouldn’t exactly do that for anyone else on the team that quickly after you’d joined. And he’d do it for you, too.

The third time was the time when they had that case in Canada and you two were paired up to look into the life of their unsub, Lucas Turner. He remembered climbing on the ladder and you following behind him and how you almost fell off the unsteady ladder but he’d caught you. You were both stuck in a weird position at first, his hand around your waist and your arm around his neck. He remembered how he looked into your eyes and felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. And in a weird way, he sensed it from you too, but he wasn’t so sure if you felt the same way. He knew he was sure when you had immediately pulled away from the awkward encounter. But he couldn’t blame you. After that, the weird feeling in his stomach didn’t go away.

The fourth time was after he got shot in the leg and you had decided to stay with him for the night in the hospital. He didn’t even remember sleeping, if he was being honest. But he could remember your distinct laugh and your jokes and your facts about random stuff like he’d often do. You two had talked almost the whole night until maybe around 5am when you finally drifted off to sleep. He remembered how content he was when he turned over and had seen you sleeping right next to him. You looked uncomfortable in the chair you were sleeping in but you had wanted to be near him nonetheless. You had even taken him home once he was released. Of course, the team would come to visit before he got out of the hospital but you staying the entire time he was there meant more than anything.

The fifth and final time had been this moment. You, here, sleeping on his chest — simply because of body heat. He really didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable with that fact, he just thought he’d be telling you for her own benefit and to use that how you saw fit. He guessed, you saw it fit with him. And the fact that you liked his rambling, oh, that poor boy’s heart leaped so quickly.

But even after all these times he realized he may have a slight crush on you, he knew that you’d probably never feel the same way even with your head on his chest like this. You two were best friends and nothing more. Since JJ left, you two clung to the hip. You guys had each other now and that was pretty much all you needed. Of course, the two youngest team members should be friends, right?

Granted, you had eight years between you two which was also another reason why Reid couldn’t pursue his crush on you. You were twenty-one, turning twenty-two next month and he was coming up on twenty-nine. You’d started at the BAU the same time Rossi had, making you about eighteen when you were a consult on the case. But the way you carried yourself when you walked in the bullpen that day made you seem older. It seemed almost weird to him, liking you when you were so young. So, here he was, still holding back.

But now… times were different and they were different ages now and you were an adult in your early 20s. And finally since he maybe finally got to know you over the years, he realized you were an awesome person. An awesome person who bad things have happened to. In ways, he’d seen a younger version of himself walking through the BAU at times. You were nice and sweet and pretty and… well, Reid just didn’t know what his exact feelings were just yet.

When you two got up the next morning, you’d both kept your word about not reiterating a word to the team about their sleeping situation. You two actually hadn’t said a word to each other all morning because you were so busy, getting ready to leave for the jet.

And once you two left the room, you turned your key in and headed off to the jet to return home. What happened in that hotel room… stayed in that hotel room, as far as you guys were concerned.

But the one thing Reid told the team was that he didn’t even mind that you snored.

i hope y’all enjoyed my first tumblr story!! please let me know if y’all would like more!! :) thank you for reading! love you all!! <333

-mya

[monzabee]

the cold shoulder - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: hotch’s nanny has been icing him out, he can’t figure out why!  

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 3k  

Warnings: the word shit is used like twice, silent treatment, jack is on reader’s side, clueless hotch 

Author’s Note: okay i was supposed to get out some requests tonight, but i am so sick that i can barely think, so this is my i'm sorry fic to all of you!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Ever the man of order, you know Hotch likes to have a set order in his life—and at his house. Not the military kind which would raise all the little hairs on your neck, no. But the kind where everything is set to a routine. It’s something he has asked you to implement with his son.  

It’s something you’re not particularly fond of, especially being the spontaneously chaotic person you are in Hotch’s eyes, but you suppose it provides a security blanket for Jack. Jack knows his routine well. He knows that on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, he needs to get ready for soccer practice. He knows that his homework needs to be done before 6 PM, so that he can watch some TV. And most importantly, he knows that he should be in bed by 8.30 PM, even if his father is away though he also knows that his dad will probably wake him up if he’s late just to ask him about his day, but if not, he will at least give him a goodnight kiss.  

And so, Aaron Hotchner likes order and routine. So does his son. You don’t particularly care for it, and so you decide to make it his problem. 

The house is quiet, way too quiet when Hotch makes it home. He looks at his watch to check the time—12.07 AM. He’d expect you to be watching TV in the living room or perhaps reading one of your romance novels he likes to tease you about, but you are nowhere to be found. You are not in the kitchen, or the laundry room, or anywhere else Hotch can think of other than your room. And since barging into your room to check if you are okay or not is not an option, he retreats into his own room after giving Jack a goodnight kiss. 

The next morning, however, he wonders if he’s entered an alternate universe. To start things off, Jack is giving him the cold shoulder—which is weird, considering he never does, and so are you. He watches the both of you eat your bowls of cereal and sharing Jack’s comic book. He’s telling you about the context, and what happened in an earlier issue, and you’re listening to him with your undivided attention. Secondly, you are dressed. And though Aaron Hotchner is the epitome of propriety, he is also a man. A man, who has seen you in your dressing gown every morning since you’ve started working for him. Hotch stares for a moment longer than he should. He’s not used to seeing you like this first thing in the morning—fully dressed, hair done, looking like you’re ready to walk out the door instead of lounging in your usual dressing gown, making coffee while teasing him about his stern morning face. It’s unsettling. 

Hotch clears his throat, setting his coffee mug down a little louder than necessary. Neither of you look up. Jack continues flipping through the pages, explaining every little detail to you in a way that makes Hotch’s heart soften—except for the fact that it’s usually him Jack tells these things to. 

He watches as you nod along, smiling at Jack’s enthusiastic explanations. “That’s pretty cool, buddy,” you say, ruffling his hair. “But what about this guy? He looks kind of shady.” 

“Oh, he is,” Jack replies seriously, turning another page. “But he’s not really a bad guy, just misunderstood.” 

Hotch raises an eyebrow. How ironic. “Jack,” Hotch tries again, keeping his voice even. “You almost ready for school?” 

Jack hums, not looking up. “Yep.” A pause. No ‘good morning, Daddy.’ No excited chatter about his day. Just ‘yep’. Hotch’s brows furrow. His gaze shifts to you, but you’re not even pretending to acknowledge his presence. He takes another sip of coffee, his mind scanning over the last few days. Had he done something? Forgotten something?  

It must be obvious that he’s staring because you finally glance up, meeting his eyes for the briefest second before turning your attention back to Jack. Jack, who after a moment of silence mutters, “Actually, I want Y/N to take me to school today.” He turns to you, puppy eyes in full effect, “Can you?” 

Oh, this is definitely intentional. 

“Sure thing, Jack.” You agree, still not throwing even a single glance at Hotch’s direction.  

Hotch’s jaw tightens, though he keeps his expression neutral. He may be an expert in profiling, but even without any specialized training, it’s painfully clear that both his son and his nanny are icing him out on purpose. And the worst part? He still doesn’t know why. 

He exhales slowly, placing his mug down on the counter with deliberate patience. “Jack,” he starts, keeping his voice measured, “I always take you to school.” 

Jack shrugs, flipping another page in his comic. “I want Y/N to take me today, she already said she would, so there shouldn’t be any problem,” he says simply, as if that explains everything. 

Hotch’s gaze flickers between you and his son, trying to piece together the silent rebellion unfolding before him. Jack’s stubborn set of his jaw, the way you won’t even look at him—it’s all too methodical, too intentional. He’s spent years interrogating criminals and reading between the lines, and right now, the message is loud and clear: He messed up. 

But how? 

Jack suddenly slides off his chair, grabbing his backpack from the floor. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” he announces, running off toward the bathroom. 

Now it’s just the two of you. 

Hotch waits a beat, watching as you casually continue eating your cereal like you haven’t been icing him out since last night. “Did I do something?” he finally asks. 

You don’t look up. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Hotch exhales sharply, setting his mug down again. “I would like to know, actually.” 

“Hmm.” You tilt your head, as if considering it. “Too bad.” 

Hotch narrows his eyes slightly. “Y/N.” 

You finally look up at him, expression neutral. “Aaron.” 

The way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine, and not in the way it usually does. He’s used to your teasing, even occasional flirting that he so indulgently returns sometimes. But right now, your voice is cold, and even uncaring. “I get the feeling I’m in trouble,” he says slowly, carefully. 

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wow, you are a profiler.” 

Hotch presses his lips into a thin line, his patience thinning. He watches as you get out of your place and bring both bowls to the sink. Hotch crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter. “So you are punishing me.” 

You shrug, still not looking at him. “I just think it’s funny.” 

His eyes narrow slightly. “Funny how?” 

You hum thoughtfully, finally shutting off the faucet and drying your hands. “Oh, nothing. Just funny.” You glance over at Jack in the other room, then back at Hotch, a ghost of a smirk on your lips. “You’ll figure it out.” 

That is not what he wants to hear. “Y/N—” 

Jack comes bounding back into the kitchen before he can press further, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready!” 

“Let’s hit the road then,” you say, ruffling his hair before grabbing your keys. 

Hotch watches as Jack slips past him without so much as a goodbye, the silent treatment continuing in full force. He clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to call his son back. Instead, his gaze flickers back to you. You offer him a parting smile—sweet, smug, and just a little too satisfied. And just like that, you and Jack are out the door, leaving Hotch standing alone in his own kitchen, frustration brewing. 

He hates not knowing. But one thing is certain. 

He messed up. And now he has to figure out how. 

After a long day of paperwork, and Dave’s unrelenting teasing, he is glad to be back at home. Though after what happened earlier in the day, he is still frustrated because he is nowhere close to figuring out what he has done wrong to warrant a cold shoulder from not only his son, but also you. He’s not used to feeling like a stranger in his own house, but that’s exactly how he feels right now. 

Jack’s school bag is tossed on the living room couch, and the TV is playing some old movie on low, the sound barely reaching him. He doesn’t see you at first, but then he hears the soft sound of your voice from the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment at the doorway, just watching. You’re standing with your back to him, rinsing out a mug, the gentle sound of water filling the quiet space between you as you continue talking to Jack about his day. He is standing on a step stool next to you, dutifully drying the items you place onto the drying rack. 

You don’t turn around when you hear his footsteps, but the smallest shift in your posture tells him that you’re aware of him. Jack, at least acknowledges him by giving him a shy smile, but then he silently giggles as he hides his face on your shoulder. 

“I thought you’d still be working,” you say, your tone casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes him bristle slightly. 

“I finished up early,” Hotch replies, his voice coming out flat despite his best attempt at sounding normal. He steps further into the kitchen, watching you carefully, trying to gauge the situation, but you continue washing the dishes as if he hasn’t just walked in after a long day.  

You let out an acknowledging hum, turning to Jack as you mumble, “Why don’t you wash your hand before dinner, buddy?” 

Hotch’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything as you continue to direct Jack through the small tasks of getting ready for dinner. It’s clear that you’re not rushing to acknowledge him, and it’s starting to gnaw at him. He’s trying to keep his frustration in check, but the silence between you two, the distance, is apparent. 

Jack obediently hops off the step stool, his little feet padding across the floor toward the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. The sound of running water follows Jack’s footsteps, but neither of you move. Hotch clears his throat, trying to shake off the unease that’s settling deeper into his chest. “I’ve been thinking about this morning.” 

You don’t respond right away. Instead, you place a dish into the drying rack, your movements deliberate, a little slower than usual, as if giving yourself time to consider how you want to react. Finally, you turn to face him, but your eyes don’t quite meet his. They flicker just past him, the tension between you two growing thicker. 

“I’m sure you have,” you say, your voice now cooler than it was earlier that morning. 

“Have I done something wrong?” He asks, the frustration he’s been bottling up all day creeping into his voice. “Are you mad at me?” 

You take a step back, leaning against the counter, arms crossed loosely over your chest.  “I don’t know, did you do something to make me mad?” You ask, confusing him even further. “Because then, I am. But if you didn’t I am not.” 

“I... didn’t?” He says, though it comes out more as a question, rather than the answer you are looking for. 

“Then I am not mad, Mister Hotchner.” You turn back, moving along the counter to focus on attention on the salad you’re making, but he hears the faint words you murmur under your breath.  

Grump. 

Hotch exhales through his nose, pressing his lips into a tight line. This is getting ridiculous. He’s interrogated criminals with less patience than this, and yet, here he is, standing in his own kitchen, being toyed with like a rookie. “You’re punishing me,” he states. It’s not a question. 

You barely react, slicing a cucumber with precise, measured movements. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” he says firmly. “And I still don’t know why.” 

You hum, noncommittal. “That sounds like a you problem, boss.” 

Not ‘Boss Man’. Not ‘Mister Hotchner’. Boss.  

Hotch narrows his eyes. Oh, you’re enjoying this. That little smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, it’s subtle, but it’s there. You want him to figure it out, to put the pieces together like one of his cases. But unlike his cases, he doesn’t have evidence to go off of, just silence, side-eyes, and Jack’s very deliberate allegiance to your cause. He thinks back to the last few days, replaying conversations, interactions—anything that might have set this in motion. But nothing stands out. 

“What did I do?” he asks again, voice lower now, controlled but edged with frustration. 

You finally look at him, really look at him, and for a split second, he thinks you might crack. But instead, you shake your head with a soft, almost pitying sigh. “I expected more from you.” 

Ouch. That lands harder than it should. He doesn’t know why, but it does. 

Before he can press further, Jack’s footsteps echo back into the kitchen, and just like that, the moment is gone. “Can I help with anything else?” Jack asks, grinning up at you. 

“Nope, we’re all set, buddy,” you reply, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get dinner on the table.” 

Hotch clenches his jaw, watching as Jack pulls out plates and hands them to you, watching as you smile at his son while still barely acknowledging his presence. He watches the two of you chat jovially over dinner about your day. He can’t figure out what he did, and he can’t get answers from either of you—it's ridiculous. He’s interrogated grown people, hardened criminals, the worst of humankind, actual serial killers, yet he’s defeated by his son and nanny.  

Hotch spends the rest of dinner in frustrated silence, chewing over the events of the past day like a case file he just can’t crack. You and Jack chat like normal—well, mostly normal, considering that ‘normal’ would typically include him. But tonight, it's like he’s on the outside looking in. 

And he hates it. 

After dinner, Jack clears his plate without being asked and, for the first time in a long time, doesn’t ask his dad to help him brush his teeth. Instead, he turns to you. “Y/N, can you help me get ready for bed?” 

Hotch doesn’t miss the deliberate way his son avoids looking at him. The kid is committed. “Of course, buddy, I’ll come up,” you reply, sending Hotch a quick glance, one that carries the unmistakable glint of you still don’t get it, do you? before you follow Jack up the stairs. 

Hotch exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. The interrogation tactics continue. Fine. He collects the dishes, rinsing them with the efficiency of a man who needs to do something with his hands, all while replaying every interaction he’s had with you and Jack over the past twenty-four hours. 

And then it hits him. 

The cookies. 

More specifically, the cookie disaster. Last night, you and Jack had decided to bake cookies. From scratch. A seemingly innocent activity, except it had unfolded like an organized crime scene—flour dusted over the counters, chocolate chips everywhere, and Jack, laughing the entire time as he got more ingredients on himself than in the mixing bowl. 

And Hotch… had not been amused. 

He had walked into the kitchen, exhausted from case reports, only to find his once-pristine space looking like a sugar-fueled tornado had torn through it. He’d sighed, run a hand through his hair, and muttered something about how some people actually like having a clean kitchen. 

Jack had immediately looked guilty. You, on the other hand, had raised an eyebrow and said, “Some people actually like to have fun, too.” 

And that was it. No yelling, no actual scolding—just Hotch being the grumpy, tired, neat-freak dad, accidentally dampening the excitement of a six-year-old and the very fun nanny who was clearly keeping score. Hotch exhales through his nose, pressing his lips into a thin line. Well. That explains this little rebellion. 

Later that night, when the house is quiet, he finds you downstairs in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone as you sip from your usual mug. You don’t acknowledge him when he walks in. 

That’s fine. He has a plan. 

Wordlessly, Hotch reaches up to the highest cabinet, where Jack can’t reach, and pulls down a Tupperware container. He sets it on the counter with a quiet thud before popping off the lid. 

Inside are the cookies from last night. The ones he had, admittedly, grumbled about. The ones Jack had been so excited to make. The ones you had deliberately left untouched on the counter after dinner. 

You finally glance at him, unimpressed. 

Hotch picks up a cookie, inspecting it like he’s analyzing evidence. Then, he takes a slow, deliberate bite. And—okay. They’re good. Not just edible, but actually really good. But that’s not the point. 

He chews, swallows, then, without looking at you, he mutters, “Best cookies I’ve ever had.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then—  

“You’re full of shit.” He hides his smirk behind another bite. “You’re so full of shit,” you repeat, but your voice is lighter now. 

“Language,” he murmurs, which only makes you roll your eyes. But then, finally, you smile. It’s small, but it’s there. A crack in the ice. A sign that the war is almost over. Hotch picks up another cookie, handing it to you. You hesitate for a second, then take it. “So…" he starts, feigning innocence, "does this mean you’ll stop weaponizing my own child against me?” 

You take a slow bite, considering. “Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You shrug, chewing thoughtfully. “Depends.” 

"On?" 

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “On whether or not you help clean next time.” You pause for a second, “And you have to apologize to Jack, too.” 

Hotch exhales a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back against the counter. “Done.” 

You smirk, holding up your cookie in mock cheers. "Then I suppose I could forgive you, Mister Hotchner." 

The war is over.  

For now. 

[fishnapple]

What you should know about your career

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CITRINE

Social connections and people in general are very important to your career. They play a crucial role in shaping your success. If you're the kind who likes to work independently, who doesn't want to rely on others for support and favour, you might not like to hear this. But it seems going alone is not your path. You're inextricably connected to people. If you want to move forward, to achieve big success then you have to accept that you need other people. You need to work with them as a team, to belong to a group, rather than shining on your own. Whom you choose to connect with also can impact your career decisions. They can help you choose the right road, steer you towards places that let you play your strengths to the most. But if you don't practise discernment, people can lead you astray with their advice and goading. 

Although you need people, you also need to know whom you can share your loads with. This is one of the few instances where friends might not always be the best people to share your burdens with. They may mean well, but their actions and beliefs can hinder your vision, they might advise you against doing something too 'rebellious', too risky, in their eyes. This could confuse you, keep you in a safe zone that you can't expand or grow much. So making a clear distinction between your personal friends and people you work with is important. Keep the two spheres separated. It's not easy to do so, especially when you're uncertain about your choices and need advice from the people you trust. But sometimes, going against the grains will let you out of the haze. Finding people who can support and encourage your dreams and aspirations will not be easy but it will be rewarding. 

Speaking of going against the grains. I see a lot of struggle between traditions, legacies versus innovation and changes. You might have to fight against long held traditional beliefs that prove to be not helpful anymore for your career. Maybe you saw how older people were doing and were taught to go a certain way. But you need to hold your heart's desires at the centre and move with that. Your faith in yourself will be tested. Confidence will be born from the belief that whatever you're doing, you will have your own back and there will always be people who can accept and support you.

FLUORITE

I see a sudden ending. A change that can shake your stability and force you to change your old habits, move away from the old support system and find a new footing. This change will let you move away and find a new home for yourself. Literally or figuratively, as you might have to change your living space, go independent, or be away from home for a while. It will be difficult to stay at home and cling to the past comfort. You will miss it dearly, yearning for the safety and peace you had at home. But circumstances might push you out of your comfort zone and demand you to start exploring the outside world more. Overall, there will be an exchange, a transition, you will need to give up something in order to achieve a bigger goal. Even endure hardship and do something against your heart's desires. It's uncomfortable but it will lead you to discover many hidden parts inside you. You will slowly realise what you truly want and create a new start for yourself. 

Trust in a new start, be in the mindset of a beginner. Even when you think you're experienced, there will be a time where you need to let go of all of your past knowledge and experience and start anew, that is the sacrifice, the change that would come to you. You're asked to put in blind faith in a new adventure, relinquish any past glory and achievements. Become a total newbie who is so eager to learn and to play. 

You need to make a mark with your individuality, to stand out, to make people remember your unique essence. It's not about seeking attention, it's about defining yourself clearly in people's eyes, to let them know what you're capable of. Gaining support from people around you is vital. The best way is to be honest in being yourself, let people have a chance to really 'see' you. What’s interesting is you might feel resistant towards acting more boldly, in accordance with what you truly want because you think it's childish, coy and dramatic. But that's where your charm lies. Being charming and persuasive works in your favour when it comes to your career. Hold on firmly to your deepest self and you will find that being charming is not at all difficult. 

One extra note, you will receive many intuitive messages through your dreams. If you see a child or children in your dream, it's a sign that you're getting closer to the 'guidance' within. Notice their actions in the dream, what you do with them, how you feel, you will find many answers through your dreams.

LABRADORITE 

A strong message of building up your strength and endurance is there. Not just physically but most importantly, mentally and emotionally. You might encounter lots of jealousy, slander and gossip at work. But if you stay strong within, you can weather them all. Nothing can get inside your heart if you don't allow them. You could feel like everything that is happening is outside of your control, they're not what you want and wish for. But don't turn your back on them. You're advised to let your heart lead you, but not into hiding, but straight ahead, rising above any obstacles. You're strong and have your intuition backing you up. This is the time to be fearless. 

There's going to be some sudden changes in your surroundings that can shake you, make you bewildered and confused. But fear not, you can get over them. As long as you stay rooted in what you believe in. Loyalty, to yourself, your principles and your good friends, will be an anchor that keeps you safe from all the storms around you. Beware of gossip that seems harmless and fun at first. Sometimes, it's best to keep some information for yourself rather than sharing it openly. Words can be a deadly weapon, for you or against you. Superficial connections won't help you grow. Focus on creating strong bonds with a selected few, whom you trust and can rely on. Quality over quantity. Whom you can envision spending a future with. Be selective of your friends and stick to them. Not everything has to be about fun and enjoyment. Some are there to help you learn new lessons, difficult lessons that you can't learn by yourself. Treasure those who you can count on as your friends. 

Even when you're angry and indignant. Don't be hasty to jump into conclusions and judge people. Your career will flourish more easily if you show your compassionate side more often, even to people who you think don't deserve it. Best not to linger too long on them. Save your energy to appreciate other people. Encourage them, appreciate their effort. You will become an inspiration. Above all, give appreciation to yourself. Allow yourself to dream big. Your career is marked by many movements. You have what it takes to go far.

The number 5 might have a significant meaning in your career. 

CLEAR QUARTZ 

There can be some hidden strife and conflicts in your career. The environment you're in seems to be not encouraging of honesty and cooperation. Instead, it promotes individualism and hidden competition. Life has an interesting way of letting you learn new lessons by arranging events that let you get out of your comfort zone. If you prefer solitude, then somehow, you would at one point be given a chance to do something in front of the public. You might resist it at first, but it will unlock your many hidden potentials and you will find that it's not as bad as you initially thought. 

Your career is marked by many moments of transformation and rebirth. The moment you choose to shine on your own, the moment that you achieve success, you will find that some connections will fall apart, some people will distance themselves from you. But the moment you stumble, when you're lost, you will also find help in unlikely places. Sunny and cloudy moments seem to alternate in your career forecast. There's a hidden force within you that doesn't allow you to be defeated. You're protected and pushed to keep moving. No matter how hazy the view in front of you is. You might have to change careers a few times before finally settling down. You can be restless for a while, wanting to learn as much from your job as possible, and when a job can't provide anymore lessons, you feel the urge to move on. Some might comment that you're being too flaky, too unsteady. Sometimes you yourself will also doubt your choices, with so much changes, can you succeed, can you achieve mastery of anything? Loyalty to an ideal, you have plenty, but loyalty to an actual place and position, you might not. One hard lesson you need to learn is to pursue something until you're confident of it, to stick to something long enough. It doesn't mean that you have to stay in a horrible job until you can't take it anymore. It means that you need to keep your purpose and goals crystal clear and hold on to them, no matter where you go. When you choose to stay in a job, you will exhaust all the possible ways of how to do the job creatively. You become an innovator, always find something new in something familiar. This way, you won't get bored quickly and can commit better to a job.

Male figures might have some big influences on your career in general. Also connect more with your masculine energy. When that energy is left unchecked, it can make you restless and reckless. But when you know how to connect with it, it can become your supporter in pursuing your goals.

[yunalinwrites]

saja boys' sixth member is... a girl ? - first time seeing you in girly clothes | saja boys x reader

series summary: in this story, you are pretending to be a boy. not just any boy--a saja boy. but what will you do when not even your fellow members--the ones you now share a dorm with--can find out you're actually a girl? stay tuned for more!! (heavily based on you're beautiful kdrama + ouran high school host club)

scene summary: after having always seen you a boy, seeing you in your true form has them feeling some type of way… (lots of possessiveness + a teensy weensy bit of suggestiveness) / based on this req

It was a hot summer midnight in the Saja Boys’ dorm and you couldn't sleep. Between the faulty AC and the release of your guys’ new album coming soon, you found yourself restlessly tossing and turning.

At this point, you'd already come clean to the boys about how you're actually a girl, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to start wearing your more feminine pajamas. After all, if you had to constantly be playing the part of a boy during the day, you could at least stay in touch with your feminine side during the night. Although, it didn't occur to you that none of your roommates had actually seen you in your true form…

💪 Abs caught you on your way out of the convenience store. You had a craving for rice balls, so you threw on a cropped tank top and pajama pants and ran to the nearest corner store. It seems like you weren't the only one, though; just before you reached the exit–a bag-ful of goodies in your hand–the doors slid open with a chime.

“Abby?”

In front of you was none other than your pink-haired roommate, also wearing pajama pants and slides. On top of that–though he wasn't matching crop tops with you today–he had on a Saja Boys hoodie that somehow did little to conceal his muscles.

“Y/N?” he said.

“Abby!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I was on a jog and I got thirsty.” He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie which--unbeknownst to you–was his “lying tic”. What actually happened is that he noticed you sneaking out late and, in order to make sure you were safe, followed you all the way here.

It was dark out, though, so he hadn't really seen you in the light. Until now, where the store’s flickering fluorescent light was shining on you.

To him, it was a beam from the heavens. You weren't wearing a binder--or a bra for that matter--to conceal your chest, and the crop top put the rest of your figure on display. And even though your face wasn't much different in the same sense, your outfit gave it a completely new context that he couldn't look in the eye without blood rushing to his cheeks… and elsewhere…

“You were on a jog at midnight…?” you questioned.

“Uh--yeah. I, uh… do midnight jogs. Along with my morning jogs. And also… afternoon jogs.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, not-so-subtly flexing with a cross of his arms.

You giggle. “Ah, I see. So that's your secret to a six pack?” With his hands out of his hoodie pocket, you take the opportunity to poke playfully at his abs.

At that, his face turns even pinker than his hair.

“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,” you promise with a wink, bringing your pointer finger to your mouth in a shushing motion.

He doesn't say anything--which you don't realize is because he's still too occupied with taking you all in–so you take it as your cue to leave. 

“I should probably go now,” you say. “Make sure you stay hydrated on your… midnight jog…”

“Wait–” he objects, grabbing your wrist just as you make it through the sliding doors. He looks you in the eye with a serious gaze, but the words struggle to come out.

For a second, neither of you make a move, blinking at each other in silence. Before either of you can come up with something to say, you’re suddenly distracted by the feeling of something cold hitting your shoulder. Using it as an escape from his heated gaze, you take your eyes off of him. Looking up to the sky, you hold your palm out to the falling water droplets.

Suddenly, you feel your other hand being pulled. Before you know it, you're moving away from the rain and your face is colliding with his warm chest, his scent filling your nostrils.

“You should've told me you were going out,” he murmurs, his chest rumbling beneath your burning cheeks.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Given his stature as an athlete, you expect his heartbeat to be slower. But, what you hear and feel beneath your ear seems to be thumping synchronously with yours–maybe even more rapid.

“Everyone was asleep…” you manage to respond, a little muffled as you try not to be obvious about the way you're burying yourself into him.

He, on the other hand, doesn't care about being conspicuous. He hugs you a little tighter. “Tell me next time.”

You bite your cheek, now letting yourself snuggle into him without shame. “Okay,” is all you can get yourself to whisper.

You stay like that for a little longer--which is a little strange to the cashier--but you don't care. Even if you wanted to move, the firm embrace he has around the small of your back wouldn't allow it. Eventually, though, you work up a bit more courage to pull back enough to look up at him and ask something.

“Hey, Abby… what’s in your pocket?” you ask with wide eyes. This whole time, you had been feeling something hard, long, and cylindrical in between the two of you.

“Oh,” he says. He takes an arm off of your back to slide it out. “You know, you should at least check the weather before you go out.”

It's a Saja Boys branded umbrella. What did you think it was?

He slowly lets go of you, grabbing your shopping bag and stepping into the outdoors to open the umbrella. Then, he looks back at you expectantly.

You smile. “Thank you,” you say, catching up with him.

As you begin to walk back in the direction of the dorm, you can't help but form another question: “Can I ask you something?”

He swallows nervously. “What is it?”

“If you knew it was going to rain… why did you go out on your ‘midnight jog’?” you ask.

He just smirks, looking down at you. 

“That's my secret.”

💐 Romance had caught you on your way to the bathroom. You had stayed up watching make-up tutorials all night, which made you miss doing a proper face. You still wore makeup for performances and shoots and such, but it was mostly just contour and eyebrow pomade to make you look more manly. So, you decided to do a little pre-shower look before you went to bed.

It felt a little weird to get dolled up with no destination, but screw it. You even put on a cute little nightgown to match. You never thought you'd describe glitter eyeshadow and tinted lip gloss as “refreshing,” but it really did feel nice to look like a girl again. Who knew you would miss eyeliner and mascara so much?

Sitting at your vanity, you yawned with a stretch, already feeling your falsies come off--now that was something you didn't miss. So, you got up and began to tip-toe towards the bathroom.

You didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour, so it scared you half to death when you saw a familiar head of pink hair emerge from the shared bathroom.

“Y/N?”

There shouldn't have been anything scary about your roommate in a T-Shirt and sweatpants, but you still had to cup your hand over your mouth to stop a scream from forming. Instinctively, you pull it back when you feel something sticky; the lip gloss formed a kiss mark on your palm. You feel your cheeks burn, suddenly realizing what you look like right now.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Romance asked curiously.

You stare down at your bunny slippers. “Um… yeah…” you admit sheepishly.

The nightgown itself was revealing enough, but somehow covering your face like this made you feel even more exposed. You prayed he wasn't seeing too clearly given that all the lights in the house were off.

Before you can take a step back, he switches on the bathroom light and grabs your wrist. 

“Come to the light so I can see you,” he tells you calmly, the dim glow coming through the doorway illuminating his soft smile.

Reluctantly, you step forward as he pulls you into the bathroom. Taking your chin in his hand and tilting your face side to side, he observes you carefully.

“Pretty,” he comments. He steps back, taking in the sight of all of you. His eyes trace the lace adorning your collarbone. The heat of his stare makes your cheeks flush bright pink--no product needed. “You should wear lip gloss more often.”

You bite your lip again. “Oh, I…” You laugh nervously. “You know I can't.”

“You can do it for our next concept,” he suggested, referring to the softer direction the Saja Boys were going to take for your next album. “Tell the makeup artists.”

“Or,” he began, grabbing your chin and pulling your face impossibly closer to his, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You can borrow some from me.”

He has you pinned against the sink, your back against the counter. You stare up at him through your lashes, fluttering them innocently… until one of them falls off. 

“I-I should probably take this off now…” you stutter.

You quickly turn around to face the mirror, trying not to look at him in your reflection. You try to keep your gaze downward, on the sink as you reach for your makeup wipes. But, as you do, you feel a hand instead of the plastic packaging.

He picks up the package and peels it open, the crinkling sound the only thing breaking the thick silence between you.

“Let me do it,” he instructs gently, grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face him. “Sit on the counter.”

You blink at him, the other eyelash falling off. “Oh… Um… Okay…”

You prop yourself up on the counter and allow him to slot himself between your legs. With the wipe in one hand, he tenderly holds your face in place with the other and begins to remove your makeup.

“Am I being too harsh?” he asks.

“N-no, that's ok…”

You sit in silence, staring at the floor and doing your best to focus on the cooling sensation. Every once in a while you look up, and each time he never fails to lock eyes with you. You hope he can't feel your face getting warmer through the wipe.  

“What I said earlier…” he starts, slowing down over your lips. “You look good in any makeup.”

He tosses the wipe in the nearby wastebasket and returns, placing his palms on either side of you on the counter and leaning towards you. His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes.

“Without it, too.”

He leans even closer, and once again, your faces are inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, the warmth of his breath. He seems to only be getting closer and closer so you let your eyes drift shut, leaning forward like its second nature, and then–

You feel something fuzzy slip over your head. You open your eyes. Around your neck is a fluffy pink headband with two red plush hearts on it like animal ears. He pushes it up, onto your head, tucking stray hairs behind his ear.

He puts on one of his own–just like yours but with inverted colors–and reaches behind you again.

“Should we do aloe?” he asks, re-emerging with two kinds of sheet masks: one green, and the other pink. “Or rose?”

You take a second to process what just happened. “Um… rose…”

He smiles. “Good choice.”

He rips the top of one of the packages and places it delicately on your face. Then, he does the same for himself, moving away from you to use the mirror.

You watch him beside you. Even through the glistening pink mask, you're desperate to find his eyes. As the two of you wait for the serums to settle into your skin, you don’t realize how hard you’re staring.

“Do I look funny?” he jokes when he catches your gaze.

For a second you take your mind off your pounding heart to laugh. “Y-yeah, a little.”

He chuckles, finding his way back between your legs. After discarding his mask, he slowly peels off yours, inch by inch, as if he’s received a present so precious he wants to cherish its unwrapping.

When he finally sees your face, bare in its truest form, he does all that he can to commit the image to memory. It’s funny, this is probably the part of you that he saw the most–whether it be in recording studios or dance rehearsals or songwriting sessions, you never had so much as a dab of powder on your nose. But somehow, you feel like he’s seeing you for the very first time, and he’s savoring it like it’s the last.

You feel yourself heating up again, so you try to break the silence. “Do… I look funny?” you ask, eyes darting back and forth between his.

He shakes his head with the lightest of laughs.

“You look beautiful.”

🍼 You knew Baby was awake--you could hear him tapping away intensely on his gaming keyboard from your room as you changed into your cami and shorts. He seemed very engrossed in whatever he was playing, shouting heated insults into the mic of his headset as you passed by his room. So, as you were standing in front of the fridge trying to enjoy the cold air wafting over you, it scared you half to death when you felt your tank top strap snap against your back.

You shriek and whip around.

“Hey,” he says casually, hooking the strap under his finger again and letting it smack your collarbone. “What’s up?”

“‘Hey’ yourself,” you mutter, rubbing the spot. “I'm up because someone can't keep it down when he's playing ranked.”

You turn back around to the fridge with a huff, but you notice that the last can of Saja Soda Pop™ is gone. “Hey! How did you–”

“Quick hands.”

You crane your neck to glare at him, but your eyes instinctively drop downwards at the sight of skin. He’s using the hem of his T-Shirt to clean off the top of the can, revealing his lower abdomen. Through his open zip up and beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, you can see the brand name of his boxers.

Trying to ignore the sight, you force your eyes back to his face and lunge towards him, but he’s two steps ahead, and about half a foot above you. He looks down at you with a smug expression as he holds it up, out of your reach. You get on your tippy toes and reach towards it, your chest beginning to press on his.

“Ugh!” You retreat and cross your arms, giving up with a pout. He cracks it open and throws it back without shame. One hand gives you the finger, and in the other, you see his stupid face plastered on the bright pink can: “Baby's Blue Raspberry”.

“Whatever… “ you mumble, attempting not to focus on the way his Adam's apple bobs with every gulp. “Romance's flavor is better anyway. ‘Lychee Love Potion’ outdoes yours by a longshot.”

He finishes drinking with a swallow and a deep exhale, his expression growing uncharacteristically serious. He looks you dead in the eye, unamused, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He keeps that eye contact as, without a word, he holds the can to your lips.

Before you can protest, he tilts it, forcing you to drink as you stare up at him, wide eyed. When the can empties, he pulls it back and uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips.

He leaves you dumbfounded as he goes to toss the can in the recycling.

As he makes his way back, you're finally about to stutter something out–until you're interrupted by his scent suddenly overwhelming you.

“Don't dress like this around the house,” he instructs, draping his hoodie around your shoulders. “‘Specially not around Romance.”

Your jaw hangs open as he then takes his phone out of his pant pocket and begins heading out of the kitchen. You watch his back in awe as he types away on it, acting as if nothing happened.

He's already halfway up the stairs by the time you shake yourself out of it and call after him.

“It's hot out, you know…” you protest weakly, contradicting the way you're pulling the hoodie around yourself. You try to put some bite into your voice. “I'm gonna, like, die of a heat stroke and it'll be all your fault.”

He looks down at you again from above the stair railing, wearing that stupid smug face again.

“There's a fan in my room,” he states matter-of-factly, resuming his walk up the stairs.

“When you come return my hoodie,” he starts, “you can wear whatever you want in there.”

��� Mystery’s always had a strong nose. His sight is constantly dampened by his signature hairstyle, and as a result, his other senses have become strengthened. So, the chemical scent was particularly unpleasant to him--enough so to get out of bed to investigate.

Following the harsh odor through the hallway, he found himself in front of your bedroom door. The main light wasn’t on, but enough of a glow seeped through the cracks of the closed door to indicate you were awake; a lamp, maybe. Wanting to confirm this theory, he raised his knuckle just under the pastel sticky note with your charming handwriting and followed its instructions: “Please knock! - Y/N”

He stepped back, anticipating a greeting. But, even after a few minutes, the only response that would break the silence was the occasional clink of glass from behind the door. 

Now, he knew it was rude to come in. Especially at this hour, when you certainly weren’t expecting anyone, he considered. He also considered that you might not be decent. But, his curiosity got the best of him, and he figured he did technically follow the instructions the note had given him. So, he reached for the door handle.

He was met with the sight of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on your desk chair in an off-the-shouldee T-Shirt and shorts, elbows planted on the table, hands tasked with something he couldn't quite make out; the only lighting was a desk lamp–his theory was correct. What he could make out, though, was the thumping of the bass from your headphones. You hadn't noticed him yet, so he approached you, watching closely over your shoulder.

Your hands were trembling, your dominant one shaking a nail polish brush over the thumb of the other. You had your tongue peeking out and one eye shut, trying your hardest to guide the bristles above your cuticle.

Mystery took a small step back. So, that’s what it was. His one late night curiosity had been solved, and he should’ve been satisfied enough to go back to bed. But, in its place formed another: how long would it take you to notice him?

It looked like you had managed to make a shoddy swipe over your nail bed, which allowed you to start breathing again. Taking that as his window to approach you, he took a slow and quiet step forward. It was only when you went to dip the brush back into the bottle that you caught him out of the corner of your eye. 

Well, it didn't register as him at first. It seems late night delirium, dim lighting, and Mystery’s hairstyle are not a good combination.

“Ah!” 

You knock over the polish bottle as you flinch.

“Shit…” you mutter, frantically setting it right back up. You let out a sigh of relief--you caught it before it was able to spill. 

After returning the brush to the bottle, you move to take your headphones off, but--out of consideration for your wet nails--it isn't easy to do with just your palms. You struggle, the plastic slipping against your sweat, until you feel another set of hands cover yours. They're warm and careful as they move your hands out of the way, and still equally as gentle when they remove your headphones and place them on the desk.

You bit your lip as he stepped away to pick up an ottoman from the opposite corner of the room and set it beside you. The seat is much shorter than yours, but given his usually impressive height, it only lowers him to eye-level with you. Perfectly aligned with the light emanating from your desk lamp, he is no longer whatever apparition or monster you were imagining before; his features are softer than ever as you’re now able to see his smile more closely than ever before.

He also takes advantage of this vicinity. Whatever hairs were messed up by your headphones he strokes back into place. Tucking the strays behind your ear, he reaches over you and grabs a hair clip from the flower-shaped dish on your desk. He takes the bow he picked out in both hands and tilts it back and forth in the light. Smiling in satisfaction, he has to control his excitement as he pins your bangs back.

All you can do is stare at him in awe, your lips parted.

“Mystery…” you whisper.

He waves back at you, as if to say, “That's me.”

“Why are you here? Did I wake you?” you ask worriedly.

He points to the nail polish, and then to his nose.

“Oh… I'm sorry…” You trail off sheepishly. You reach to scratch the back of your neck out of nervousness but quickly retract your hand, remembering the state it's in.

He just shakes his head with a smile. “It's okay.”

He holds his hand out to you. You blink at him in confusion.

“Give me your hand,” he says, softly but aloud nonetheless.

“O-oh,” you stutter, hesitantly doing as he says.

Just like with the bow, he tilts your hand back and forth and smiles to himself. The color you had chosen was a translucent pink; as the bottle advertised, “Your nails but better!™”

Wearing nail polish was nothing out of the ordinary for all of you--so much so that the marketing team had released your own line of “Saja Sparkling Nail Lacquer™” for the “Lovely lion claws™” of “the Pride™” . Right now, in fact, Mystery had on his very own shade of magenta, courtesy of the cosmetics team's nail tech.

He'd seen much more elaborate designs--and much neater designs--done on his own fingertips. So, on paper, he shouldn't be impressed by the shaky brushstrokes of a simple clear pink. But on your hand--on the soft hand he was holding and never wanted to let go–there was something endearing. It wasn't something you’d get at a salon--it was more like the result of a girl's sleepover or hours at a vanity before a date. That image in his mind alone meant more to him than all the years that lady had spent at beauty school.

Though he himself had no such certifications either, he reached for the cap of the nail polish bottle. Bringing your hand closer to him, he began to sweep the brush over each nail.

You watched in awe as, with all ten fingers, he dipped the brush in the liquid and smoothed it over your fingers meticulously, holding your hand close to his face. With every replenishing of the brush, he would back up a bit, but when he resumed painting, you could feel his breath on your knuckles.

You feel it even harder after he finishes, blowing gently on your nails. It probably isn’t doing much to dry them given how hot and humid it’s been lately, but, contrary to the cool air he lets out, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn.

With a third, final exhalation, he retracts his hold. Without realizing it, you leave your hand hanging in the air, right where he’d left it. Your body seemed to know what your mind didn’t have the courage to say: you weren’t ready for him to go yet.

But then, just as quick as his touch had left, it returned as he slid his palm under yours and pushed it so your hands were upright, like a high-five. He couldn’t help but breathe out of his nose a brief chuckle at how your fingertips came up a full joint shorter than his.

You hoped he couldn’t feel the way you were trembling right now–prayed that he wasn’t grossed out by how clammy your hands were getting. But he didn’t seem to care, and you didn’t have any thoughts left to think, when, slowly, he curled his fingers until his hand engulfed yours.

You bit your lip. You could feel his pulse under your touch, calm and steady, and you were sure he could feel yours thumping at twice the pace. But, despite your nervousness, you let yourself copy him, slowly lowering your fingertips until they slotted perfectly in between his knuckles.

On the back of your hand, you saw his beautiful pianist-like fingers resting. His flawless manicure wasn’t even a millimeter overgrown–filed unfathomably symmetrical, cuticles pushed back out of sight, and surface perfectly glossy, the light reflecting without obstruction. Meanwhile, on the back of his hand, he saw that, even with his and your best efforts, there were stray splotches of pigment here and there on your skin. In some places–where the light hit your nail beds wrong–there were unblended brushstrokes.

There was no competition. It was clear which one he preferred.

He squeezed your hand playfully. “Do mine next time.”

✨ “Jinu… Jinu, wake up. You shouldn’t fall asleep on the couch, you old man.”

With his arm over the back of the couch and his knees spread open, he continued to snore–a sound so loud it rendered the TV in front of him inaudible. You sigh, wondering how Derpy and Susie were able to stay snuggled up against him on that throw pillow. Really, with the drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth, it was comical how un-Saja-like this was–save for the lion’s roar that escaped him with every exhale.

You shake his shoulder. “C’mon, Jinu. I don’t want to hear about your back problems in the morning.”

“Hrrrgghh, shhhh… Mmm… Huh… Huh…?”

You watch as he goes from snoring to murmuring to mumbling and then… shrieking.

“Ahh! Intruder! Intruder! Derpy, there’s an intruder!”

Desperately, he yanks on the poor tiger’s blue fur. Derpy wakes up, but doesn’t share the same urgency. He recognizes your scent, so he opens his glowing eyes halfway only to side-glare at Jinu before drifting back to sleep.

“Y/N…?” he finally realizes.

You don’t respond. You just sigh and cross your arms. Unintentionally, you push your breasts up a bit as you do. You don’t notice but, as he continues to register what he’s looking at, he definitely does.

“Wh… what are you wearing…” he trails off.

Quickly, he darts his eyes somewhere else–anywhere else. Your satin button up and shorts set isn’t really by any means indecent, but he feels his cheeks get hotter with guilt for every second he stares. He turns his face away, but let's face it–at any angle, he’s red as an apple. 

“What? Four hundred years and you haven’t seen a PJ set?” you retort. 

You put your hands on your hips and weight on one leg, striking a sassy pose. “You might be, like, a gajillion years old, but you’re not my dad. I’ll wear what I like, especially when it’s hot.”

“R-right,” he agrees, not realizing you were referring to the weather.

“What are you watching, anyway?” you ask, turning around to the screen. “Oh, wait! I know this show. This is a good episode…”

You start going on about characters… or something–he feels bad for not listening, he really does, but he can’t help it. He hasn’t the slightest clue of what you’re talking about; he fell asleep in the first ten minutes of watching. It’s an easy fix; if he really wanted to, he could look at the screen and find enough context clues to put together a response. But then, he’d have to take his eyes off the real show in front of him.

The dim glow of the TV lights you up from behind like you’re an angel greeting him at the gates of heaven–something he thought he’d never see. He follows the glow around the edge of your silhouette, slowing down from the hem of your shorts to your waistband. He’s really not trying to make it pervy, he swears, but he still burns with shame–though, the feeling is somehow different than the sharp purple patterns Gwi-Ma sends through him; it has quite the pleasant side to it.

When his eyes reach the back of your head, he decides that’s the most respectful place he can rest them. It’s not any less of a sight than the rest of you–your hair has grown out a bit ever since your DIY pixie cut, enough so for you to tie the teeniest little ponytail to try and beat the heat. As it sprouts from the colorful little scrunchie, it reminds him of a pointed paintbrush. But in this form, he thinks, you should be a framed painting.

He’s snapped out of his trance when he feels the weight of the couch shift; Derpy crawls off the couch with Susie on his back, meowing a farewell.

“Get a room,” he seems to say.

Frantically, before you’re able to turn around, Jinu grabs the cushion they were on and holds it over his lap.

“Good night, Derpy. Good night, Susie,” you say with a wave. You turn back to the couch, making eye contact with Jinu.

“Sorry. I’m blocking your view, huh?” You apologize nervously, your eyes taking refuge on the empty spot Derpy left. You plop down next to Jinu, his arm still around the back of the couch behind you. But while you keep your eyes on the screen, he keeps his eyes on you.

“Wow… what a beautiful dress,” you comment, pointing at the wedding scene before you. “I wish I could wear something like that…

“Me too,” Jinu whispers, watching the way your eyes light up when you see it, lined by lashes he never realized were so long.

He flinches backwards a bit when you turn to him with a smirk. “I don’t think they make those in your size,” you joke. “Not if you’re eating enough for you and Derpy and Susie,” you say, gesturing to the empty family-sized bag of Saja’s Mild Spicy Shrimp Chips™.

“Th-that’s not what I–” he stutters, hoping you didn’t catch onto his stare. “Ugh, just shut up and watch.”

He feels you vibrate through your touching knees and shoulders as you laugh. “Okay, okay,” you surrender.

The both of you return your gazes to the screen. Jinu has to employ every muscle and nerve in his body to keep his head facing straight ahead and his mind on the plot. But a few minutes later, just as he thinks he’s able to squeeze out that last thought of the flowy satin draping over you, his aforementioned nerves detect an unexpected weight and warmth on his shoulder.

He looks down and finds your cheek smushed up against his shoulder; his ears–their tips now pink–pick up the most hushed of snores drifting from your plush lips. He thanks the stars above that your eyes are shut–putting your soft lashes on full display now–because now you can’t see how he’s blushing even harder than before.

He instinctively lifts the arm resting behind you, but just before it reaches your shoulder to shake you awake, he stops it above your head. It’s as if his muscles have a mind of their own–he tells himself–as his hand slowly lowers to your hair and begins to stroke it gently.

He immediately tenses up when he feels you stir, freaking out briefly until you snuggle closer to his chest. He lets out a deep breath of relief, but takes in a few more; he needs to slow down his pounding heartbeat right now, or else you might wake up, he worries.

When it’s as steady as he can get it, he lets his lungs go on autopilot. But, even so, he’s suddenly very aware of his body. He knows he’s not a lion, and he knows he’s not a tiger or bird. But, tonight, he doesn’t feel like a demon. Somehow, he feels strangely human. And he’s suddenly aware that he’s a man, and you’re a woman. And you are much smaller than him.

He takes his hand off of your head for a moment to pull slightly at the back collar of your shirt. Before the satin slips between his fingers, he’s able to catch the size on the label.

He’s an old man, as you like to tease him, so he’ll probably forget by the time he wakes up. But still, he leans his head on you and lets his eyes drift shut without a worry.

He’ll remember, he promises–and he hopes you can somehow hear that promise telepathically when his head meets yours.

He’ll remember when he buys you that dress.

***

erm idk how to feel cuz i kinda like what i wrote but i also somehow feel like i didnt go in the right direction in terms of whats expected from the prompt?? idk also sorry jinu's and baby's aren't the most developed i just wanted to get this out cuz it was taking so longggg

jinu is my fav but i struggle to write him :(

but anyways im so excited this was my first req ever so ty ty ty anon i luv u guys im gonna try to work on the other req i have asap but plz b patient w me :') dont b afraid to send in more req tho tee hee

masterlist

tags (open ^o^): @hornehlittleweeblet2 @foxta1l @prettylittlelavvy @ch1cky-093 @thoughtsfrom1985 @feelya @doodle-with-rhy @fries11 @katzline @iivantablackii

[spurbleu]

smoke break.

a short fic about smoking that got away from me. all of them want you, so 141 x reader.

it’s like clockwork.

it’s 9:43 PM, with an early autumn breeze that still smells like summer breaking through poorly sealed windows. the sky is blooming in violets. there is barely anyone left in the office. it’s silent.

and then four pairs of heavy footsteps break it.

its always the same order, too. johnny’s first, hands in his pockets. his shoulders shrug as he braces for the cold. kyle follows. he always itches his knuckles before holding the door open for simon, who walks behind him silently. price, unsurprisingly, brings up the rear.

his hand always digs into his back left pocket before the door closes.

and you, every time for the past 2 months, have ignored them. but curiosity is a ceaseless, immortal creature, isn’t it?

it got the best of you, today.

it’s 9:41, you’re out for some air. stretching your legs on the balcony, that has a much less depressing view than your cubical. a city beginning to sleep. a sky that is bigger than feels right, even if it’s beautiful. keeps you company.

that, and your anticipation.

it bites when the door creaks open.

there’s a pause. you breathe three times, white clouds hissing from your teeth before you hear the first boot plant.

1 pair. 2, 3. a longer pause. two breathes. the 4th walks two short steps, before you hear the door close.

you finally turn. kyle speaks first.

“needed air?”

you nod. you’re at an awkward distance, that no one moves to close. all four of them stand a couple of paces away, like startled animals. “I needed a break.”

johnny nods. “aye, tats what we’re oot ‘ere for. seen us come’up- yeah?”

“no. didn’t know it was you’re spot.” you lie.

johnny smiles. he’s letting you. “mm, tat’s alright,” he glances over his shoulder to the men, who have not stopped looking at you, “we can share.”

you swallow as they turn away from you. you see price pull out a cigar, and kyle with a lighter. theres a click of steal on butane followed by the smell of expensive smoke. you turn around.

what else would it be? of course it was a smoke break. their 10 minute respite from cement sweat and checking their six. paperwork and chairs they don’t fit in. from you.

you’ve stepped on sacred ground. invaded territory. walked into their carefully crafted den to, for selfish reasons, figure them out.

the dynamic no one else can crack or join. a wall of force by interlocked arms. a brotherhood. a blood bond. a loyalty. in life, in death. in this brief moment, where they share a cigar and say nothing.

you’ve done the office equivalent to spitting on an altar. you should go. you need to g

“ever smoked?”

suddenly, you’re aware of how warm everything feels. how it smells like tobacco that belongs to luxury. how when you look forward, broad shoulders are in your periphery. you don’t move.

“s-sorry?”

its price, he’s next to you. “i asked if you’ve ever smoked, darl,” you look at him, with all your doubt and confusion and vulnerability, and he cracks a smile, “probably not, then.”

there’s pressure on your shoulder. you give in and turn around. simon stands in front of you, and between his fat, gloved fingers, is a cigar that looks above your pay grade. and your tolerance.

“open.”

“oh i-“ you shake your head, looking to any of them for a bit of leeway, “I don’t- I wouldn’t want to waste any-“

“price is offering, love,” says kyle, who is to your far left, “your chance to take it is now.”

initiation. welcome mat, made by smoke and grime and all the things that make them who they are. all the things you are not. at least, not now.

not without that cigar in your mouth.

you do as simon says and he places it to your lips.

“inhale.” he says.

you’re doing as your told until it itches. something in your throat burns. then your lungs. then it’s lingering in your chest until-

you’re coughing. you see grey cloud around your vision, and catch how white they’re teeth look when they smile.

strangely white, for smokers.

“good girl.” says price, “learning how to manage. takes a couple of times,” and his hand is on your chin, you aren’t coughing anymore but you’re certainly flushing, “but you’ll get there.”

“aye, we all got t’ere.” say johnny. he’s smiling too, next to simon, who is not. but he’s looking at you, and that feels more intimate.

“and we’ll help you get there, too,” price says, voice like his presence- warm in the way a fire burns, iron formed in its wake. it’s a middle ground between unsettling and comforting- a strange, dangerous place to be with your boss, “that right, boys?”

you didn’t even notice until now, but kyle’s hand rests on your lower back. it keeps traveling down.

they speak in unison.

“yessir.”