#I swear I have nothing against this tooth I just keep knocking it out by accident

[peterdoesart]

Nothing quite like desperately trying to hold back laughter whilst listening to your mother try to explain over the phone to the dentist that her 18 year old child knocked this one tooth out a third time after dropping a laptop on his face-

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

 “Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him. 

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified. 

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily. 

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it. 

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst. 

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks. 

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…” 

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that… 

“Pretty please?” 

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?” 

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context. 

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart. 

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you  can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed. 

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality. 

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor. 

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter. 

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it. 

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

[starlazergazer]

Nervous

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: Anakin is pining over the reader who is a Jedi but is kind of oblivious and shy. Starts off with noticing his gaze from across a room and what the reader thinks are innocent touches but then escalates to thick tension that the reader chooses to ignore due to the code. Eventually Anakin can’t take it anymore and does something about it.

Warnings: Nothing just so much sweet fluff it’ll give you a tooth ache

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: Actually wrote this one twice lol trying to decide how to do it and went with an alternating reader and Anakin point of view structure as well as changing a few things about the original request that I hope work out so as always let me know what you think!

“You’re staring” a whispered voice suddenly popping up on his right snapped Anakin out of his stupor, his spoon dropping loudly into his bowl in surprise as he jumped slightly, eyes snapping down to his padawan wearing an expression that was much too amused for his liking.

“I’m eating alone snips” he grunts, picking back up his spoon and making a point to keep his eyes down “I have to look somewhere”

“Sure sure” she nods seriously from beside him, moving her head closer to his shoulder and looking out over the room just as he had “well now that I’m here should we both stare at Y/N?”

At the mention of your name he jumped again, moving immediately to try and quiet Ahsoka and only achieving in knocking his bowl to the ground, the spoon reverberating loudly against the bowl as they strike the ground, soup spraying up and splashing Anakin and Ahsoka’s feet, effectively drawing the attention of the entire room.

On instinct Anakin’s gaze came up and sought out yours immediately, catching a small amused smile on your lips, gaze snapping back down to his feet as he felt one of his own grow on his lips in response, mentally scolding both himself and Ahsoka as he felt the tips of his ears go red.

“There, are you happy now?” he asked Ahsoka, sending a glare in the young padawans direction, getting the girls best attempt at holding in her laughter in response. “Yeah that tracks” he sighed, bending down to pick up his now empty bowl. Rushing from the room before he could embarrass himself in front of you any further.

-

You weren’t entirely sure why you were nervous.

It was a simple, kind gesture, he’d either accept it or he wouldn’t and that was it. You were a general in the republic’s army, you had been in several active war zones left with nothing but your saber to protect you, you could give Anakin Skywalker a ration bar.

In truth this wasn’t something you would normally have ever considered to do. Sure you’d talked to Anakin a few times in passing, even had one mission together that went fine, but you certainly wouldn’t consider yourself friends, colleagues at best to be honest.

But all throughout lunch you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes on you, could swear through the corners of your own that he was looking right at you throughout the meal, and though you knew you were probably being delusional you had to admit it stuck with you.

Between that and the way his eyes so naturally found yours right after the bowl dropped there was some stupid part of you that felt like it was your fault it all happened, and thus felt the need to make it up to him in return.

But as you entered the briefing room, catching Anakin sitting in one of the chairs encircling the holoprojector alone, his soft green eyes scanning the room around him, the way his long slightly curly hair fell so beautifully just above his shoulders, the soft smile that played on his lips as he listened to the conversations around him, you remembered just why you were nervous in the first place. Because being the object of Anakin’s attention for any amount of time always had your heart racing.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you strode up to Anakin’s chair and thrust the bar out in front of his vision, watching the man recoil ever so slightly at the surprise of its appearance, his gaze following your arm up to your face, the corners of his lips perking up into a slight smile even as his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, wordlessly asking you a question.

“I figured since half of your lunch ended up on your shoes, you’d be hungry” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up as he slowly broke out into a wide smile, taking the bar eagerly from your hand, his fingers brushing up against yours ever so slightly as he did so.

“You saw that huh?” You weren’t expecting the question, had already been ready to walk over across the room and take a random seat on the opposite side reliving every embarrassing moment of this short conversation instead of paying attention. Instead, you were stuck awkwardly standing above him, suddenly completely unsure of what you should do with your now empty hands.

“It was pretty hard to miss” you admitted with a small chuckle, delighted to see his expression mirror your as you did it, using this confidence to keep speaking “the good news is there are certainly worse things to be stuck smelling like for the rest of the day”

He laughed at that and you liked the way he laughed, the way his whole body seemed to curl around the sound, the way he almost leaned into you as he did it, your mind already going into overdrive as you worried if you were standing too close to him.

“Oh here this seats empty” another thing to catch you off guard as Anakin gestured vaguely to the seat next to him.

With no real reason to object, and even a small part of you the relished the simple gesture, you nodded sitting down next to him, not missing the way he shifted his weight to lean closer to you as you did so, in fact focusing way too much on that fact. Probably just so that he could hear you better in the loud room.

“Here” you heard him say from beside you, breaking off a portion of the ration bar you had just given him and holding it up to you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow in response.

“I got that for you” you stammered, not taking the piece from his fingers “you know after you embarrassingly spilled your lunch all over your shoes in front of the entire cafeteria”

He shook his head at that, unable to pull a small smile from his lips as he did so, “Well I was trying to be nice but if you’re just going to bully me, I’ll rethink that course of action” and with that he quickly popped the piece he was offering to you into his mouth.

You giggled back at him at that, your shoulder brushing up against his as you did so, immediately pulling back from him, scolding yourself for invading his personal space for a second time in the span of five minutes. It was going to be a tough meeting.

-

Anakin knew he should probably leave you alone after that.

After pulling you in to sit with him through the incredibly boring tactical meeting and embarrassing himself in front of you at lunch you probably felt like you had seen enough of him for the week at least.

But fate, it would seem, had another plan as he walked into the jedi library and saw you standing in front of one of the shelves.

Still he could’ve gone to another part of the library, he really only needed to look up one thing, he’d be in and out in a few minutes flat. But then you were on your toes, your arm stretched far above your head, the other steadying yourself on a lower shelf, trying desperately to reach a book on the top shelf that fell just inches from your hand. And he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

He was already approaching you before he could stop himself, already ready to reach up and effortlessly pluck the book you wanted from the shelf, but then he saw you bend your knees slightly, getting ready to jump for it.

And that was why his hand immediately went to your waist, to stop you and pull you back slightly, to stop the entire top shelf from falling on top of you as you tried to pull the desired book down. Least that was what he told himself. Why he felt the need to pull you deeper into his chest as he did so, well he had less of an excuse for that.

He was ready to crack some sort of joke about your height, about the catastrophe of an avalanche of books you were about to cause, but then you spun around to face him, big eyes gazing up at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted in surprise, and he felt the words die in his throat, completely forgetting whatever he was going to say in an instant.

“I could’ve gotten it” you objected halfheartedly with a small laugh, and much to his pleasre he could see a new pink hue dusting your cheeks.

“Well I could always just put it back” He shrugged as he leaned in close to you again, reaching over your head to put the book back, telling himself it was just committing to the bit

Then your hands were on his chest and Anakin felt his breath faulter, his movements halted in an instant as you pushed him back from the shelf softly, a wide grin on his face mirroring yours as you did so, the two of you sharing a soft chuckle before he handed you the book, a little sad it was too large to have his hands brush against yours as he did with the ration bar, missing the soft tingle that reverberated through him from the simple contact.

You thanked him with a soft smile, turning to go back to your seat at the desks and Anakin was already talking himself into choosing a desk across the library from you. Telling himself he owed you some respite from him today, even if he had already ruined his last attempt at that as soon as he entered the library.

Then you were talking to him, his brain taking a brief moment to pull himself to attention at your words. “here this seats empty”

He’d never been so happy to hear his own words repeated back at him.

With a smile and a nod he followed you back to the table, giving you a brief moment to pull some of your notes and books towards you own seat and out of his way before sitting down, absolutely relishing the fact that you were making room for him to sit next to you.

“What’re you researching?” he asked you, nodding to the screen in front of you, eager to keep the conversation going.

“Devaron” you answered simply, Anakin watching the way your eyes flicked back between him and the screen as you talked, focusing more on the way your lips moved than the words they said, getting only half sentences if he were honest as you explained your plan to infiltrate a separatist encampment to steal back a holocron.

He let his posture relax more the more you talked, his weight shifting to lean more towards you without even thinking about it, his knees with a mind of their own going to rest softly against yours as he leaned in to look at your screen as you explained, not missing the way you immediately pulled your knee back at the contact, scootching ever so slightly away from him as he leaned in, trying desperately to not let your actions get to him.

Instead he pushed it a little further.

-

You didn’t even have the chance to think about moving before he was just there, his head floating mere inches above your shoulder, ends of his long hair tickling your ear softly as he peered at the text displayed before you.

“Oh here” You tried to ignore the way the words came out as a squeak, the flush of red on your cheeks at the feeling of his chest just barely skimming your back as you started to lean away, letting him get a better look at the screen before his hand shot out to your shoulder to stop you, pulling you back to your original position.

“No it’s okay you’re fine” he assured you softly, eyes never leaving the screen, hand never leaving your shoulder.

Immediately your brain was in overdrive, focusing on your breathing too much trying to make sure it wasn’t too loud, on the hand that rested on your shoulder and the tingle it sent through the area as his thumb brushed softly up and down, on the scent of his cologne that completely encapsulated you in this moment.

“Would you quit fidgeting it’s hard to read with so much movement coming out of the corner of my eye” he teased you breaking you from your thoughts.

“Well if you’d just let me move you can have the screen all to yourself” you defended, trying again to lean away from him only to have his hand hold you effectively in place.

“you’re not giving me your seat it’s fine we can share just sit still for two seconds” he protested, never once moving from the spot just above your shoulder.

And you tried, oh how you had tried so hard to be still, but he was right there, one of the most gorgeous beings you’d even seen mere inches from your face, the skin beneath his touch burned on your shoulder, his slightly musty scent seemed to completely encapsulate you, and you found it hard to focus on anything but Anakin Skywalker.

Then too quickly he was pulling back, shifting back around to sit down in his seat, a concentrated look on his face as he bent over some of the books you had pulled.

And all you could think about was that that had to have been done on purpose. The way his knee rested against yours when you sat side by side, or his shoulder bumped yours when you walked, you could explain all of that, even the way he seemed to pull you into him as he grabbed the book from over your head, or the way his eyes always seemed to be planted on you when you turned to look at him. Could chalk any of it up to wishful thinking, to innocent touches, to signs of friendship. But what had just happened?

You could read his screen from your position now without straining, without even shifting your weight towards him, there was no reason to get that close, not unless he wanted to.

But the back of your mind was screaming at you, protesting that you were being ridiculous, that there was the jedi code to think of, that Anakin was too good a jedi to even think of breaking it just to form an attachment to someone.

“Why don’t Ahoska and I come with you” His words snapped you back to reality, your cheeks heating up as you realized you weren’t entirely sure how long he had been speaking, how long you had been blatantly staring at him.

“Oh-are you sure?” you asked him in surprise.

“Yeah” he shrugged nonchalantly, looking up from the book before him with a soft smile “Ahoska could use the practice, and it sounds like you could use the backup”

“That would be great actually” you said honestly, gaze flickering back to the map before you, already forming a plan in your mind as you spoke “having a full team there in case things go wrong would be perfect”

“Great” Anakin grinned back at you, a hand coming down to clap your knee softly as he stood, Anakin pulling his hand back from you sooner than you would have liked “We’ll meet you at the loading dock tomorrow morning”

“Sounds good” you smiled back at him as he turned to leave, watching him walk back through the doors, not even thinking to question the fact that he never accomplished whatever he had come to the library to do.

-

To say that Anakin was happy to see the seat next to you on board was empty was an understatement, he was absolutely ecstatic to the point that not even Ahsoka’s teasing smirk sent is way from across the space could ruin it.

Bounding up to you happily he planted himself in the chair next to you, knocking into your side playfully as he did so, “You ready to go steal a holocron?”

You seemed almost surprised to see him, as if you hadn’t heard him come aboard and walk over to you, but still you painted on a smile, though one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, Anakin’s brain immediately switching over to concern. “what’s wrong?”

You scrunched your brows back at that, immediately pulling away from him though only slightly, gaze going to your feet “what? Nothing?”

He just shook his head at that, his eyes immediately going to your hands and the way your fingers absentmindedly picked at the skin around your nails as you avoided his gaze. Without even thinking his hand shot out, encapsulating one of your in his, his fingers effortlessly intertwining themselves in yours, Anakin wanting to admire just how well your hand fit within his but too preoccupied In trying to figure out what was wrong.

His touch pulled your attention back to him, your gaze bouncing back and forth between his eyes, clearly trying to decide if you should say something.

“It’s alright you can talk to me” he all but whispered, nodding encouragingly, all but begging you to let him in.

“It’s dumb” you dismissed quickly, eyes casting back around the ship but your grip on his hand tightened ever so slightly, Anakin unable to do anything but smile slightly at the gesture, using his thumb to rub lazy circles on the back of your hand.

You gaze was drawn down to your hands in response and Anakin felt his movement hiccup, a brief pause as he worried for a second that was he was doing was wrong, that he was making you uncomfortable, but then he saw the edges of your lips turn up almost imperceptibly and he felt his heart swell in his chest, taking a deep breath and giving your hand a small squeeze letting you know he was here.

“It’s just-“ you stuttered and stopped, finally looking back up at him “Is it dumb that I’m more nervous now with people going than I was when I was going alone”

And though Anakin could never think anything you thought was dumb he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion at your words “what? Why?”

“Because it’s like” you sighed and he felt your grip go light in his, felt you start to pull away from him, but this time he wouldn’t let you, keeping his grip tight he pulled you softly into him, your shoulder coming to rest calmly against his, your grip thankfully returning in response as a soft chuckle escaped your lips, a sound Anakin grasped onto eagerly. “It’s like now I’m responsible for three more people ya know?” you asked hesitantly, gaze going out to spy on Ahsoka and Rex talking calmly across the room “before it was just me but now if something goes wrong…I just don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me”

And Anakin couldn’t help but grin at that, not wasting the opportunity to lean over and hide his smile in your hair, suppressing his urge to press a kiss to the crown of your head as he did so, “its not dumb, it’s sweet”

You pulled back at his words, eyes going suspiciously to his face “you’re laughing at me”

And with those words he couldn’t help but chuckle, even as he tried to protest “no I’m not-“

“You are” and even your voice started to bounce as you held in your own giggles, Anakin’s cheeks aching ever so slightly as he chuckled back in response.

“No its not-“

But you cut him off again, pushing off of him to stand up but he kept his grip firm, effortlessly pulling you back down into your seat, sure that you had let him do it anyways. “hold on hold on let me explain” he tried to calm himself down, unable to think of anything at first but at how close you now sat next to him, your thigh pressed firmly against his as you all but sat on top of him.

“Look Ahsoka, Rex and I have been on hundreds of missions before and we’ve always made it back” you looked up at him doubtingly and Anakin had to fight the urge to melt into your gaze “we’ve had hundreds of missions go wrong on us, very wrong, and we’ve always been able to handle it. This one won’t be any different”

Your gaze casted back out to Ahsoka and Rex a soft shake in your head as you spoke again, your voice small and hesitant “are you sure”

And finally, Anakin let go of your hand, using his now free arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into a soft side hug before he whispered “yeah I’m sure”

-

“As far as the plan?” Ahsoka asked you from the copilots seat, looking up at you from where you stood behind Rex’s chair, watching the separatist encampment come into view.

“There’s three entrances” you explained, barely able to tear your eyes away from the window “main one then two others on each side that are much smaller used mostly for transporting supplies. I’ll take the east one, you and Anakin take the west, Rex stays back here with the ship ready to shoot anyone or take off quickly depending on how things go”

You cast your eyes to look back at Ahsoka who was nodding her head softly as she thought then up to Anakin just behind her chair only to see he was already looking down at you, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not going alone” he objected quickly “you and Ahsoka take the west I’ll take the east”

You physically recoiled at that, brows scrunching up back at him in confusion, not entirely sure where this was coming from all of a sudden “this is my mission, I was going to go alone anyways”

“And now we’re here” he shot back, making it a point to avoid your gaze as he watched Rex’s landing “so you didn’t have to be alone”

“Hold on I was fine with going alone you were the one-“

Ahsoka interrupted you as you started to get louder, pointing an accusatory finger in Anakin’s direction “I’ll take the west you two go together on the east”

“no” Yours and Anakin’s answer came quickly and in perfect unison, Ahsoka rolling her eyes in response as she crossed her arms over her chest, a posture that now perfectly mirrored both your’s and Anakin’s.

“Look based on the encampments shape the west side will be the less populated one so it makes sense that I take it alone and the two of you take the more difficult one” she tried to explain.

“If that’s the case than I-“ you were ramping up for your argument but watched as Anakin’s shoulders slumped slightly in response, not letting you get out another word before he was conceding with a simple ‘fine’.

As if you had never said anything you watched as Ahsoka grinned triumphantly up at her master, a gesture that just seemed to annoy him further though you still caught a small proud smile snaking its way to his features.

“Hold on-“ you tried to object again but Anakin was already exiting the cockpit, giving your shoulder a soft tap and squeeze as he did, leaving you frozen in space as you watched him go.

“What on earth just happened?” you asked the room earning a small giggle from Ahsoka in response “this was my mission did he really just come in and steamroll his way into making all the plans”

You watched Ahsoka and Rex share a look from their seats before answering in perfect unison “you get used to it”

You groaned softly at their response but couldn’t help but laugh softly at the situation, running a tired hand over your face “I just don’t get why he wouldn’t just let me go on my own, does he not trust me?”

“No he trusts you” Ahsoka tried to assure you quickly but you could already feel yourself spiraling.

“I mean I told him that I was nervous before we took off what if he thinks because of that I’m not capable”

“He speaks very highly of your abilities as a jedi” Ahsoka shook her head in response, stealing a glance at Rex as she did so “I know for a fact that he trusts you with his life”

At that you had to stop, your mind reeling for a second at the thought that Anakin could have spoke so highly about you to Ahsoka before, it wasn’t like he’d ever really been around you enough to know that. “I don’t-“

“Look” Ahsoka sighed with a slight chuckle, spinning around in her chair to face you “he likes you, he just wants to make sure you’re safe”

“But you’re his padawan” you pointed out in confusion “he likes you too and you get to go off on your own”

At this Ahsoka smirked slightly, turning back around to face the window “yeah but it’s different with me”

This only had you more confused “how is it-“

Before you could ask, however, Rex interrupted you “alright we��re here” in surprise you turned your gaze to the window to see that you had in fact landed, you too focused on your talk with Ahsoka and fight with Anakin to even register that fact. “Now you two get going let’s get out of here as quickly as possible”

-

You were uncomfortably aware of every part of his body that was touching yours, the way you could feel his chest rise and fall against yours with every breath, the way you really had no choice but to look at him.

“Come on I know you’re mad at me” his voice came out in a whisper, prompting you to turn your head up tentatively to look at him through your lashes only to see him already looking down at you, his hands pressed against the wall above your head trying to give you as much space as possible. “I’m sorry I ended up picking the worst spot to hide I didn’t know-“

You cut him off before he could go on any longer rambling “It’s not that”

He scrunched his eyebrows at you “then what is it?”

You shook your head slightly at his expression, casting your gaze back down, desperately wishing you were anywhere but here to have this conversation. Instead of just moving past it like you had hoped he would, however, Anakin stayed silent, his gaze firmly locked down on you, practically pulling the answer out of you.

“It’s this whole mission” You sighed, not missing the way Anakin seemed to only get more confused.

“This was my mission, a simple break in and grab the holocron” you tried to explain “then you ask to join with Ahsoka and I agree and all of a sudden you’re the one making the plans pushing me out of my own mission by delegating me to a less important part, telling me I need to have a partner and can’t go out on my own”

“that’s not-“ You cut him off again before he could deny it.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s my mission. That means you sit down and listen to my plans you don’t get to come in and tell me what I’m going to do and not do on my mission that’s not how this works” You paused for a quick breath, finally chancing a look back up at Anakin “You can’t demote me, not here not now”

His eyes bounced quickly back and forth between yours, concern evident on his face as he formulated his response, taking a moment before speaking “I’m just trying to protect you”

“I don’t need your protection” you countered with a small huff “I’m a fully trained Jedi knight I can handle myself, but I know you’ve regularly got Ahsoka doing more dangerous stuff than this so what about protecting her?”

“It’s different with her”

And there was that explanation again, that same cop out excuse that didn’t tell you anything. You could hope, tell yourself that you knew what it meant, but you didn’t, you needed to hear him say it.

“Why is It different?”

Anakin didn’t say anything to that, deep breaths echoing through his chest to your own as they rose and fell against one another, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own, quick trips down to your lips that you swore were only in your head. But at that point every time you had overthought your and Anakin’s relationship was whirling around in your head. Every time you looked up to see him already staring at you, every touch he seemed to go out of his way to make, every excuse he’s made to hang out with you or be close. It couldn’t be all in your head could it?

“Are you okay?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, surprising you slightly, your head backing up to softly bump the wall behind you.

Because in truth you weren’t, you could feel your heart crawling up into your throat, could feel every point of contact between the two of you now like electricity dancing over your skin, could feel the burning desire to just close the small gap between the two of you. But the code, always the code.

“I’m fine” You brushed him off, turning your gaze back to the ground, anywhere but his.

“Hey” He called out to you softly, fingers dropping from over your head down to your chin, pulling your gaze back up to his softly, his fingers dropping down to the side of your neck quickly, pressing softly into the skin. “Your heart is racing”

You could only feel it get faster after that comment, could feel the way your cheeks got hotter from beneath his worried gaze, brushing his fingers off you quickly “I’m fine”

“Is it the tight space?” He was whispering quickly now, already inching his head towards the grate trying to peak out.

“No I’m-“ you tried to object but he was already running off on his own tangent.

“If you need to get out of here we can try and sneak out” he was inching more towards the grate by the second, hands coming off the wall to try and pry it off.

You couldn’t let him leave yet, it was too early the two of you were bound to be caught, so you reached out, grabbing his face in both of your hands and pulling it down to meet your gaze “Anakin it’s not the tight space” you watched his brows bunch up in confusion again, letting the rest of your sentence spill out of you before you could think better of it “it’s you, it’s the way we’re pressed up against one another, the way you keep looking at me like that. It’s you, you make me nervous”

You could practically see his brain stutter, all his features relaxing for a moment as he processed what you said, the corners of his lips ticking up slightly as he did so “I make you nervous?”

“Yes” you breathed out, the panic within you forcing you to tack on more to the sentence “of course you do,  you have a reputation of regularly jumping out of moving speeders and are actively trying to sneak out of our hiding spot before it’s time”

A smirk grew on his face at your words as he dipped his head closer to yours down at your eyes level, so close your noses were nearly touching, his hands planted firmly on either side of your head against the wall “but that’s not in the way that you meant it. Right?”

You watched the way his tongue darted out from between his lips, wetting his bottom one quickly, eyes snapping up to meet his again with a blush staining your cheeks a deep enough color you were sure he could see it even in the dim lighting. “Why is it different with Ahsoka?” You whispered the question so softly you weren’t entirely sure he could hear it.

But god help you he chuckled at it, his eyes twinkling softly as he inched forward even closer, “because I’m not in love with Ahsoka”

[ninjigma]

For 'Of Honor and Force', a Royalty AU Track: 'Second Child, Restless Child' - The Oh Hellos (Spotify / YouTube)

"And here I was, thinking that fighting tooth and nail to survive would finally give me an edge against you."

"Dull your edges, more like."

Quinlan made an exaggerated offended noise, hand grasping at his chest. Fox showed as much sympathy as usual though, and Quinlan didn't have more then a second to be dramatic before he was rapidly blocking quick movements.

Sharp and swift the two danced, feet sliding silently over grass and the sharp noises of metal echoing on the long forgotten ruins. The day was joyous, and Quinlan was thankful for it. He had missed his friend, and between being thrown off a mountain as a form of training and traveling an extra two weeks to get foreign noodles, he had been gone so much longer then he ever cared to be. And he hoped the rare foods would make up for the fact that he knew this time would be even longer still. The inevitable that he would leave, that Quinlan always left.

And he wished the burning in his chest was simply his lungs trying to keep up with the fight.

"And it seems my absence has made your aim a bit…" Quinlan lunged, using his height to Force Fox back rapidly so as not to fall. "Wild."

Fox sneered, and twisted rapidly, the sun bouncing off the sheen of his bare shoulders. "You think way too much of yourself."

"I think of you a lot too." Quinlan had dodged to the side and bowed slightly, hands splayed outward and relaxed even as Fox raised his rapier between them. "My dear prince-"

Fox's angry scoff was lost to the new flurry of movements. Quinlan had pushed enough buttons that their little fight had devolved into something that took a lot more attention, something that left them both beginning to breath heavier, tips of their weapons to scrape and scratch across their exposed torso's. Hair loose and forms tight, wrists twisting and bodies swaying. The grass bent beneath them as neither gave up ground, as they moved together like the currents that carried the storms.

Until Quinlan saw red.

The drip of it as it bubbled up, bright and angry. They had been twisting past each other, and Fox had ducked when Quinlan feigned an upward cut only to then fall low as well. His rapier had pierced the skin, a slash marring across the left side of Fox's chest. A long cut. Red.

In his shock he had hesitated, had hyper focused on that slowed moment his rapier flicked away, scarlet on the tip. He had his eyes on nothing but the wound he had given Fox, the hurt he had inflicted.

And Fox stood back to stance with ne'er a blink, lunged without any time lost, fast to slice Quinlan's sword out of his hand and plant one strong foot to the sternum of his off balanced opponent, flattening him into the ground beneath him.

"What the kriff was that?"

Finally, the knock of the ground chasing his breath away, Quinlan's eyes focused back on Fox's face. On how he was breathing hard, but wore only a look of confusion and annoyance rather then victory. "What?"

Fox huffed, rapier coming to hover just over the right side of Quinlan. "You hesitated. Why did you hesitate? You haven't been going easy on me have you? I swear Vos if you-"

"No no I-," Quinlan's eyes trailed down again. "You're bleeding."

Finally Fox seemed to take notice of the cut. With the iconic raise of one eyebrow his family was know for he flickered his attention to the wound, seemingly expecting it to be a trap perhaps, a distraction. But instead of the pain or anger Quinlan thought would come, the upset at being injured or the panic at the sight, Fox actually laughed. Outright chuffed and even smiled, looking back down to a startled Quinlan.

"Do you stop every time you give an enemy an ouchie?"

"Fox-"

"It is barely even bleeding, for kark's sake. Might scar a bit but-"

"Fox stop. I-"

"No, Quinlan." The rapier's tip lowered against Quinlan's skin, Fox managing to raise his chin even as he stared down hard. "You shut your mouth for once and know that, actually, I am not your dear prince. I am not some fragile thing. I brought the rapiers for a reason, and I am more then aware of the risks, we have been through this plenty of times. I wanted the fight, and it has been so much more fun then putting up with Cody's pointers and Bly's warnings."

Eyes now boring into Quinlan, Fox tilted his head down ever so slightly. "I trust you, even if you are such a fool that I am surprised you haven't gotten yourself killed yet. Got it?"

Quinlan blinked a moment, the silence derived from Fox's tone had been clear and left him in a moment of hesitation before speaking. "Yes sir."

Then that slick smile was back, and Fox was tilting his head like the most clever being in the world. "Besides, that was a pretty good attempt."

Quinlan raised his own brow, but otherwise didn't attempt to move, watching the light through the canopy dance on Fox's face. "Oh? A compliment?"

Fox shook his head, tight lips still smiling. "Pity actually. That is the closest you are ever going to get, shadow boy, and you blew it. Now get back up so I can kick your ass properly this time"

Finally, Quinlan's own smile broke across his face, a new confidence in his friend. The friend who complained about him, sneered at his courting, huffed at his stories. The same friend who came to the ruins every week to look for him despite the months he would never be there, the same friend who would sit with him late enough in the night that his family would be angry with him when he arrived back home, the same friend that he had just cut across the heart of only to receive a smile and an insult.

The same friend that now stepped back and swung the rapier away with such a poise that Quinlan had to simply gaze up a moment in awe from where Fox had laid him so thoroughly flat. That as the prince offered his hand and that sideways smirk, Quinlan once again couldn't believe how lucky he was for any of this. That taking Fox's hand and accepting the help up made his stomach flip in a very different way before once again taking up his rapier and facing Fox squarely.

Beneath the sun and bird song, a canopy of life and story, the prince of the shadows faced the fourth son of Fett and reaffirmed that, no matter what he came against, he would fight to his last breath for just this.

Because Quinlan always came back.

It was just supposed to be a lighting test but uhhhhhh... well, you can see for yourself XD

Enjoy!

View early previews and WIPS of this piece and more on my Patreon!

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '24 ⸺ 「 10 / 31 * SPEAKEASY 」

18:27

Somewhere out by Clayton Ravine, Orwell Valley

Normally, the moment the doors to his lab clicked shut, immersing him in comfortable, voluntary solitude–unlike that which was forced upon him daily–the sound would trigger an autonomic response that his body understood as relax.

Only he and Goldie were aware of the existence of this place, and Goldie, being the only person he could even attempt to use the word friend to describe, has faithfully kept it secret for the better part of the last six years.

The click meant that the mask could be discarded, the rigidity he forced into his spine at the start of every morning to keep it straight could be given slack, allowing his shoulders to slump slightly, and the chains, woven intricately between and around each rib and vertebra and anchored to a part of his soul, would come undone and allow him to breathe a little more easily.

He had gone over this place with a fine tooth comb, installing countermeasures against the security systems that he designed to grant himself this, this singular pocket of anonymity in which Citizen Brown ceased to exist and Emmett, the scientist, freed himself from his restraints to flex his creative and scientific mental muscles lest they atrophy from disuse. 

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. One worth all the risk. 

Emmett drops down unceremoniously into the seat at his desk, staring blankly at the unfinished blueprints laid open before him. This project, like all the others before it, had captured his attention for the last two and a half weeks, providing such a delightful and stimulating challenge that his distraction had bled through into his daily life, earning him the ire of his darling wife. 

But it was difficult to concentrate on the tedium of the job–Edna would override his decision anyway and hand him whatever paperwork to sign she deemed appropriate in the end–when the promise of discovery was so close he could grasp it in his fingers.

Now, he finds it near impossible to even look at his notes when the voice of young Martin McFly bashes against his skull on incessant repeat, turning what was a spark of frantic genius into meaningless lines curved against the page.

There are no miserable people in my Hill Valley!

Jesus, Doc, open your eyes! They’re–they’re terrified! It’s like something out of 1984 here! And you, Doc—you look… This can’t really be what you wanted for yourself, can it? What you hoped to do with science?

He had said nothing in response to that. Now, in hindsight, it seems he told the young man everything he needed to know.

He may not have had the pleasure of getting to know the young man personally, but on paper, he was an exceptional citizen. That even this iteration of him should be just as perceptive shouldn't have been a surprise, yet Emmett found himself blinded all the same.

Doc, this isn’t right. You know it’s not. And you’re my best friend, I know that you’re not happy. But, you know, where I’m from, how things are supposed to be, you are. God, Doc, you’re the luckiest man in the world where I’m from! You invented time-travel, for God’s sake! And you’ve got Clara and the boys— 

The more Martin spoke, the more difficult it became to try and convince himself this was all some grand delusion, a temporary moment of insanity brought on by stress or some other such stimulus on the boy’s part. 

No, Martin was far too familiar with him–too knowing–and he hadn't sensed an ounce of deception in his eyes.

So either everything he said was true, or he'd believed it so wholeheartedly, he had managed to convince himself that it was the truth.

That, coupled with the raw emotion pouring from Martin’s voice, written into every fibre of his being, had knocked Emmett’s entire world off-balance, forcing things to the surface that were better off forgotten and buried. 

Dreams, hopes—things long lost to the steady march of time.

“Damn,” Emmett swears, unafraid that he’ll be caught and issued a demerit for his unsightly outburst. In a rare moment of desperation, he brings his elbows down hard on the table and drops his face into his hands, grabbing fistfuls of hair.

[cityburns]

[ ⚠︎ COLOR THEORY ] The blinding color from a nuclear blast. The lines of code in your vision. You are yellow, bright and neon; a destroyer. Sabotage. Revenge. Maybe born from rage. Maybe born from duty. Hot, cooking you from the inside. The tight fist of your 'ganic hand, punching the dirt next to the body of the man that spared your life at the cost of his own. You deserve to burn, and so does the world.

Breaking shit. That's all Johnny has ever been good at. Like he's fifteen again, making his voice sound deeper so that the lady at the desk hurries him down the hallway to meet the sergeant. Neck-deep in the trenches, gun shoved in hand. To fight for his country and nothing else ( right? ). What a load of horse shit. Just fluff they say to make you puff your chest up, so that when you watch your brothers in arms get shot between the eyes, you shed a single tear and say it was worth it. So long as America wins, right?

( Now repeat after me: I, Robert John Linder, solemnly swear, ) I, Robert John Linder, solemnly swear, ( to faithfully serve the United States of America ) to faithfully serve the United States of America. ( I vow to uphold the values set forth in the nation's Constitution and represent its government with dignity and due diligence. ) I vow to uphold the values set forth in the nation's Constitution and represent its government with dignity and due diligence. ( I pledge to defend my country against all enemies, foreign or domestic. Should this cause claim my life, so be it. ) I pledge to defend my country against all enemies, foreign or domestic. Should this cause claim my life, so be it.

Words that mean nothing. Just bullshit. Knees to the ground, red on yellow, as the poor guy underneath him gets a beating no man deserves. A knocked out tooth, a bloody nose. He started it, Johnny thinks absentmindedly, the sound of cracking in his knuckles, of metal hitting skin. Broken bones are just the start. Johnny doesn't let up until the begging ceases, leaving just the heaving breaths of his victim. It's not enough ( it's never been enough ) to just beat up one guy. He's sifting around this poor guy's garage for a crowbar and gives the same treatment to the car that has the misfortune of being parked here.

The crowbar takes on the same hue as him, and it spreads across the dented metal and shattered glass of the car ever time he kicks it. The alarm in it blares out loudly, but he doesn't care. The beeping gets quieter with every swing of the crowbar, and long after he's forgotten why he's mad, he keeps swinging. As though it may come alive and take its revenge on him. Not happening, he thinks, fuck off.

And it's still not enough. The burning need to break. The ache for destruction. Complete annihilation. Arasaka was only the start, way back when. Arasaka was just a warning. A big red you're next. Would he have stopped after every corpo was torn to shreds? No. It wouldn't be enough. And it's so much worse here, wherever he is in the back of V's mind, because he's so goddamned powerless in this city. All he has are his bare fists, but that won't stop him. No, he's gonna tear the core of the Earth out just for good measure. What's next on the menu? Smashing the windows out of this place and then setting it on fire. Sounds like a damned good idea.

Each footstep is a trail straight to him. A mix of red and yellow. Paint and blood. He's swiping things off the cabinets, riffling through for canisters of gasoline. No gonk in their right mind would keep enough gasoline to start a house fire, but the small canister he finds may beg to differ. Crowbar in one hand, gasoline in the other. Pouring it all over; on the couch, in the kitchen, over the body. Smashing everything; the lamp, the TV, the windows. Nothing is safe. Nobody is safe. Not from Silverhand. Not from Robert, with so much rage in his heart that he has no other outlet than destruction.

A cigarette. That's enough to set it ablaze, a small trail leading from the front door to his feet. He tosses it in. Still not enough, as the flames reflect in his shades. That gaping hole in his chest is still there. And it only gets wider by the minute.

[jungshookz]

smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

hm

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

[sundaysundaes]

One Night Stand

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Jeno | Smut, Fluff | College AU

Summary: Lee Donghyuck is a twenty-one-year-old virgin whose sexual experience only includes nearly knocking a girl’s tooth out of her mouth during a sloppy Seven Minutes in Heaven. Yet, he keeps boasting about it. Wanting to shut his mouth for once, his friend, Jeno, dares him to approach a stranger in a bar.

Warnings: protected sex, oral sex, drinking alcohol, heavy swearing, shy, nervous hyuck (because there are too many fics with daddy!hyuck out there)

“Then, prove it,” Lee Jeno says, a smirk painting the corner of his lips as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “If you’re just as good as you said you were, please, be my guest.”

Lee Donghyuck isn’t one to back away from a challenge. He actually loves being dared by someone to do something outrageous—something that they didn’t believe he could do—and seeing their jaws dropping to the floor when he manages to get it done. And being Donghyuck, the guy who’s smart and confident—almost borderline cheeky—that can ace almost any kind of game out there, he faces each and every challenge with a cocky grin and no fear in his eyes. He always manages to get it done.

But now, as he is being tested by his roommate, Donghyuck can literally feel himself breaking into a cold sweat. It’s times like this that he hates himself for letting his mouth get the best of him.

Because Jeno is asking him to take a girl home with him. And that’s easy, right? With his adorable, mischievous eyes, his perfectly plump lips and naughty grin, surely he could charm any girl in the bar—even a few men, if he ever decides to be curious about it like Jaemin did. But for once in his twenty-one years of living, Donghyuck’s confidence vanishes without a trace, and without it, he’s pretty much nothing. 

The amount of experience Donghyuck has with girls is pretty much the same as the chances of Mark going through a whole day without farting in public—which is zero, basically. But Donghyuck has kissed a girl once. Square on her mouth too, which is the reason why he kept on yapping to Jeno and the rest of the gang about that time when I made-out with a hot girl. Although the truth is, it was more like a form of cannibalism instead of a romantic kiss, and here’s why: 

That “kiss” happened sometime during his poor middle school life when his study group decided to play Seven Minutes in Heaven to deal with their boredom. Donghyuck was excited, and he got more excited when he was picked first. He honestly didn’t even care who he’d end up with. He was just so thrilled of the thought of having his first kiss, his first hickey, his first time touching a girl’s boobs, his—you get the idea.

So when he was paired with a really cute girl he actually had his eyes on for months, Donghyuck was beyond ecstatic. If he had the power to freeze time, he would’ve probably done it so he could run across the town, screaming, “FUCK YES, BITCHES!” all the way down the road while punching the air with all of his strength. 

But that Seven Minutes in Heaven quickly turned into Seven Minutes in Hell once Donghyuck—oh poor, over-excited Donghyuck—tried so hard to imitate one of those French kisses tutorial he’d seen on Youtube (yes, he had come prepared), and ended up almost knocking a tooth right from her mouth.

The kiss was awful, just him practically eating her face off with her wincing and groaning (in pain, if it wasn’t already clear by this point) every time Donghyuck sucked on her lip—and apparently, every breath from her lungs too and not in a beautiful, metaphorically speaking kind of way. Donghyuck thought it would be sexy for him to bring his teeth into the game, like playfully biting her lower lip or something, but that soon evolved into him clashing his front teeth against hers hard enough that they could literally hear the sound of it ringing in their ears.

(Sometimes, when his room gets too silent, Donghyuck can still hear the sound of their teeth knocking echoing in his head.)

Seven minutes felt like seven years because she spent the last six minutes crying into her hands with Donghyuck sitting frozen in front of her, soul leaving his body. Traumatic by that experience, Donghyuck began to limit his interaction with girls and stayed perfectly untouched until today, his second year in college where pretty much everyone is having sex with everyone except him.

But he has too much ego to admit that he’s a fucking virgin. God, he doesn’t want to be put in the same category as that nerdy boy Renjun. Lack of options to choose from, that one horrible experience becomes the one that he always boasts to his friends whenever they gather over a few glasses of beer with, of course, his own rendition of the story. Sometimes he kept it to a minimum, just saying something like, “It was beautiful when we kissed. I could feel that she had feelings for me too and man, when she mouthed my name, her lips bruised and red because of me, that was insane. You know how fucking sexy when girls look at you that way, right?” But whenever alcohol clouds his mind too much, he’ll become a version of himself that he’ll always regret in the morning because he’s going to babble fucking nonsense like: “And then she was all over me, man, like trying to rip off my clothes—I swear, buttons were flying—I had to even borrow a shirt when I went home. She was on my lap, her teeth on my neck, hips pressing down on me—if I weren’t too much of a gentleman, we would’ve done it in that closet.”

He knows he sounds like a total asshole but he can’t help it. He’s so afraid of people finding out the truth that he just runs his mouth without thinking. He hates himself just as much as Jeno hates him whenever he tells that one fucking story and tonight, Jeno’s patience is running thin.

“What, you want me to fuck a stranger?” Donghyuck snorts, acting nonchalant but the way his fingers are tapping anxiously against the side of his beer defies him. “No way, man. What if she ends up having feelings for me? I’m too much of a gentleman to break a girl’s heart.”

“Goddammit,” Jeno says, reclining on his seat as he rolls his eyes. “She’s not gonna fall in love with you over a one night stand, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck takes a sip of his beer, his lips grazing against the glass as he mutters, “We never know.”

“Well, if she does, then just date her.”

“I don’t date.”

“You don’t fuck too, apparently.”

Donghyuck nearly chokes on his beer. “I do fuck—” The look Jeno is sending him nearly turns him into a puddle. “I sleep with girls regularly once a week—no, once every three days even!” He almost slaps himself in the head. Was that too much?

“Then it’s perfect.” Jeno smiles is so bright, it’s almost out of character. “I haven’t seen you fucking anyone in the last two days—or in the last two years I’ve met you—and since it’s your third day today, it’s the perfect time for you to actually fuck someone this time!”

Fuck, just fucking kill me already, Donghyuck screams in his head. “I don’t know, man. I’m too drunk to hit on girls.”

“That’s literally your first glass of beer.”

“I have zero tolerance for alcohol.”

“Just fucking go!” Jeno throws his hands in the air exasperatedly. “Go talk to a girl or I swear to God, I’m gonna post that video of you crying while watching The Kissing Booth—”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Donghyuck’s face is aflame as he stands up from his seat, his hands slamming against the table and he’s yelling loudly enough to gather attention. “And I thought you said you’d deleted it!”

“Of course, I lied, you idiot,” Jeno jeers, “It’s the perfect thing to blackmail you about so, of course, I kept it.”

“Give me your fucking phone!” But when Donghyuck snatches Jeno’s phone from the table, the other man just snickers.

“I’ve made a few copies of it,” he says to Donghyuck’s horror. “So, go on. Erase that. I still have like a hundred of it, at least.”

Donghyuck grimaces. “Why are you so evil?”

“Because apparently girls dig me that way,” Jeno replies with a yawn. “Now, shoo. Pick your character. I’ll be watching from here.”

Donghyuck has no choice but to follow, even when the earth feels like it’s about to swallow him whole. “You’ll be watching from hell after I’m done with this.”

“Should you be performing that kind of action to someone who owns your darkest secret?” Jeno’s smirk looks so satisfying on his face that Donghyuck begins to regret his choice of friends. But when his group of friends only consists of Renjun The Virgin 2.0, Chenle The Aristocrat (who is quite decent if he doesn’t flex his wealth so much), and Mark The Fart Guy, Jeno is actually the most normal one. (Donghyuck doesn’t even want to talk about Jaemin). 

Utterly defeated, Donghyuck can only bitterly spit out, “Fuck you.”

“Can’t,” Jeno coos. “Unlike you, I do have someone to sleep with after this.”

The shorter male just gives him the finger, eyes narrowing menacingly but they seem more horrified than angry because that’s how he is now. Donghyuck is horrified.

There’s a reason why he’s popular among ladies but has zero percent of getting laid and that’s because he doesn’t know how to strike a conversation. The thought of just greeting them first already makes his head spin. He’s annoyingly clingy and he flirts a lot with his male friends—ask Mark, he knows the pain—but when it comes to a girl…

I’m just gonna die, aren’t I?

There are a lot of females hanging around the bar and every time his eyes meet a pair that belongs to them, his stomach suddenly acts out on his own, making plans to vomit the chicken wings he ate earlier without permission. The  black leather jacket matched by a pair of dark ripped jeans might make him look exceptionally alluring but Donghyuck is just a bundle of nerves, too fucking scared to notice that girls are ogling at him with lust written on their eyes and not weirdly perceiving him as he thought. He spots a girl smiling at him from the other corner of the room and he immediately fidgets on his feet, his eyes hastily trying to find the nearest exit door so he can run away for his life.

So, anxious and lightheaded, Donghyuck takes a seat at the bar and begs for the bartender to give him something strong enough to reduce his mental pain. The scruffy man slides his request down on the table with no question and Donghyuck chugs his shot of tequila in one big gulp, regretting it almost right after when the taste of it burns his throat.

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a seat next to the man—who just heaved the biggest sigh you’ve ever heard in your life—coughing out his lungs. You raise a hand for the bartender to notice. “Can I get some water for him, please?”

Donghyuck turns around to you with his watery eyes (from the burn, not because he’s feeling sentimental—well, not today anyway), seems starstruck for a good two seconds before he’s coughing again, for an entirely different reason this time.

“I’m—” he wheezes, one eye closing in pain. “I’m fine.”

“Rough day?” You smile at him, sliding down a glass of water. “Here.”

“T-thanks.” Feeling too nervous from being observed by your eyes, Donghyuck, yet again, drinks his entire glass in one try.

Amused, you ask, “Is that the only way you can finish your drink? Like you’re running out of time?”

“No, it’s just—” Donghyuck looks away, rubbing his cheek that feels like burning. “I just ate something spicy, so…”

“And drinking a shot glass filled with tequila is a way to cool your mouth down?” When you see him nearly smashing his head down to the table out of shame, you offer him a hand. “Sorry, I’m attacking you when I haven’t even introduced myself.” You tell him your name and even when he doesn’t immediately answer you with his, the way his hand shakes a little as he takes yours warms your heart.

“Lee Donghyuck,” he vocalizes, almost too quiet for you to hear in a bar that’s packed with people. So you lean closer to him, lending him his ear and you miss the part where he blushes at the little space that divides you but you can tell he’s embarrassed by the quiver in his voice when he repeats his name.

“Hi, Lee Donghyuck. Can I just call you Hyuck?” He nods in response and with his confirmation, you shift your bar stool a little closer to his. “My friend went home early but I’m in the mood for another drink. Would you keep me company?”

There’s that look again, you notice. That look where he kind of just gazes at you, not knowing what to do or say and it’s so cute, like a clueless boy trying to find his way home after his first day of school. “Stop staring at me like you’ve never seen a pretty girl in your life,” you tease.

“I’m—” His skin is sun-kissed, beautifully so, that it amazes you when the blush on his cheeks grow more apparent than you thought. Now he’s staring at everything but your eyes. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m kidding.” You bump your shoulder against him, making his own sags forward in shame. “Try to relax. If you’re so tense, that friend of yours is going to know that you’ve been bluffing all this time.”

Agape, he nearly stands up from his seat. “You heard that?!”

You press a finger to your lips, smiling. “I sat on a table next to yours before, actually. So, yeah, I kinda heard the whole thing.”

“W-why are you here then?”

“To save your ass.” You chuckle lowly. “You’re cute and the way you told that making-out story was beyond hilarious. I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself further.”

At that, a little bit of his previous self comes back to life. “Aren’t you embarrassed by how straightforward you’re being?” He retorts. “Calling a guy cute and all that?”

“Why do people not appreciate honesty these days?” You sigh, taking a sip of your drink. The taste of alcohol is bitter on your tongue but it’s nothing new. “Can’t a girl be honest and tell a guy she’s attracted to that he’s cute?”

Donghyuck is so appalled by your words, he stops functioning entirely for a good three seconds or so. When his soul comes back to his body, he’s so flustered, his ears are buzzing. “I-It’s, umm,” he clears his throat loudly, “It’s a guy’s job to call girls cute—not the other way around.”

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for you to call me cute.” You prop your chin with one hand. “Since you’ve been stealing glances at my lips when I talk, I know you must feel something for me.”

Fucking hell, this girl is gonna be the cause of my death. Donghyuck takes a deep breath, trying to calm his heart down. “I’m just distracted with…” He struggles, staring at the ceiling as if he’s begging for his Lord to help. “The color of your lipstick,” he finishes lamely because certainly, Lord isn’t helping.

“So you have been staring at them.” You grin, hiding it behind your fingers. “Cute.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even have the strength to keep up with your words. “Are you usually this flirty with guys? Or is it just your way to lure your victim before you dissect them in the nearest abandoned alley and sell their organs?”

“Nah, I’m taking a break today. Already have plenty of those in my fridge.” When he only scrunches up his nose, you add with a light giggle. “No, I’m actually rather shy. I’m just trying to be friendly since you look like you’re about to pass out.”

He rolls his eyes. “How considerate of you.” 

“So, I figure that Seven Minutes in Heaven story is a lie?”

Donghyuck heaves out a sigh, rubbing his temple. “It’s not completely a lie. It really happened, it’s just…” Just talking about it actually gives him physical pain. “It ended terribly.”

“How terrible?”

“Terrible enough that she ended up crying. And avoiding me for the rest of her life.” Donghyuck rubs a hand over his face, peeping at your expression. “I swear to God, if you start feeling sorry for me, I’m gonna set myself on fire.”

“Aaw, but then I’d never see you smile again.” You’re spending your sweet time carving the sight of his beautiful profile into your mind, unconsciously tapping your cheek as you do so. “Wouldn’t that be a waste? To never see that dazzling smile of yours? When it shines so bright, you’d put the sun to shame?”

“Jesus Christ,” Donghyuck sputters, loathing the fact that his heart is beating out of control over something so atrociously terrible. Waving a hand to the bartender, he grumbles, “I need to have ten more of that shit I just drank to keep up with your shameless flirting.”

“Is it still called flirting when I’m just being honest?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Every bit of his reaction serves as your personal entertainment. Honestly, you’re not usually this blatant—you’re actually the more reserved one in your group, especially when it comes to talking to strangers in a bar. But you’ve seen Donghyuck several times in this place, heard him laugh so adorably loud about the most trivial things in life, witnessed his cute, cheeky grins and slightly jagged teeth, and listened to his distinctive voice. 

Man, his voice. 

It’s really one of a kind. That night when he stood upon the small stage during a karaoke session with his friends, singing one of those overrated Justin Bieber’s songs while being half-drunk, half-drowsy and still managed to sound like a finalist of American Idol is just unbelievable. 

To sum up, you might have developed a crush on him for quite some time. Just a tiny, tiny crush. Nothing too deep. It’s not like you’ve been imagining having a baby with his attractive moles or something. You just wonder how would that lips of his feel against yours, wanting to know whether he has moles on the other side of his body too—because those that he has on his jaw and neck are just delectable. So yeah, a tiny crush. Completely harmless.

But when Donghyuck has finally managed to relax, gradually going back to his playful, youthful self, you realize that fuck, I’m gonna start catching feelings for him, aren’t I? Because Donghyuck is just adorable. He’s adorable when he pouts whenever he tries to make you blush with his lousy flirting attempt but ends up with you making him blush. He’s adorable when he asks whether you’re okay when he notices you fumble with your step on your way to the bathroom. He’s adorable when he secretly glances at you, wetting his bottom lip unconsciously when his eyes rake over the sight of your lips.

Seconds passed into minutes and you feel more at home talking with him compared to talking to your girlfriends. With them, your topic solely revolves around the latest fashion trends, discounts for branded items, or how cute that newcomer Timothée Chalamet is. And while Timothée is, indeed, cute, he doesn’t have that annoying grin that Donghyuck likes to display on his face whenever he manages to pull up a prank on his friend. 

Once he’s ready to unveil more of his personality, you’re easily immersed in the conversation because he’s so easy to talk to. He talks faster than your mind can follow but he listens wholeheartedly to your every word and combined with his excellent sense of humor that matches your style, you’re just waiting for him to sweep you off your feet.

So, after talking for about an hour with you touching his shoulder more than necessary, you decide to ask, “I think your friend has gone home. What are you going to do now?”

Donghyuck looks over his shoulder, confirming that yes, in fact, Jeno has gone home without waiting whether he manages to do the dare or not. The man turns around to his glass, running a hand through his brown hair and you’re jealous of how it looks naturally soft, slightly parting to the side to frame his face perfectly. “Fucking prick,” he seethes, finishing his entire glass with his final sip. 

But after that, somehow, Donghyuck becomes tense again, tapping his fingers repeatedly against the table. “Umm…”

You wait, a smile strapped to your lips. “Umm?”

He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds, perhaps mentally preparing himself for what’s coming, before he finally blurts out, “Can you—will you—” he stammers, heart palpitating. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

So cute, so cute, so cute. Seriously, he’s too much. Can a grown man be this cute? You keep your eyes on him as you empty your drink, taking a longer time on purpose so he’ll suffer just a little bit more as he anxiously waits for your answer. 

“Well,” you begin and you can see him finally releasing his breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. “I can, I will, and I do want to go somewhere with you, Lee Donghyuck.”

How his smile blooms instantly after your words sink into his head, nearly splitting his face in half, reminds you of an excited child going on his first trip—both heartwarming and innocent, when you both know that going somewhere with him is going to lead into anything but innocent.

Donghyuck pays for your drink even when you insist for him not to (and he grimaces a little bit in secret when he sees how thin his wallet is after that) but you don’t have the time to even joke about it because he’s moving fast, already breaking through the crowd, clasping his hand with yours and leads you through the back door.

When you’re both standing in a quiet, dark alley, you smirk at him. “Is this the place where you’re going to harvest my organs, Mr. Lee?”

But he doesn’t respond to it—too busy thinking about something else to even comprehend the words you just said. And with the way he’s gazing so intensely at your lips, you know exactly what he wants.

“I…” His breathing stutters. “I’ve been—Can I—would it be okay to kiss you?”

Perhaps the words are flitting too fast in his head or too jumbled that he has to stammer every time he opens his mouth. You raise a hand to cup his cheek, eyes somewhat drooping when you let them rake over the sight of his beautifully shaped lips and Donghyuck is leaning in, nearly pressing you against the wall when you whisper, “No.”

Looking like someone just threw a bucket of ice over his head, he quakes, “W-what?”

“Not here.” You peek at him from behind your eyelashes, loving the way he’s so dazed over your looks. “Let’s go back to my place.”

I’m not dreaming, he marvels repeatedly in his head as he stands on the side of the street, just kind of staring into the cold night air as he waits for you to hail a cab. I’m sure I’m not dreaming. Please tell me this isn’t a dream.

“Hyuck, you’re coming?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

***

You expect him to attack your neck with his mouth as you struggle with opening the door to your apartment, perhaps sucking marks on your supple skin that you’re going to regret on the next morning. But Donghyuck has devolved into a robot who can only answer with a nod and a shake of his head to each of your questions.

“Is this your first time going home with a stranger you met in a bar?” You utter, throwing your keys and your purse to the coffee table as you wait for him to enter the space you’ve been living by yourself for a few months. 

Donghyuck, yet again, only nods. He’s so engrossed with the sight of your apartment, looking from one corner to another, eyes scanning over your personal belongings, jaws clenching and unclenched when a certain aroma hits his nose.

“It’s chamomile,” you say, taking off your coat with a hidden smile. “I’ve been using a diffuser to chase away the musty smell. I’ve talked to the landlord about it but—“

“It smells like you,” he comments, almost inaudible. He’s so pure, so adorably charming in his own way, noticing the very little thing about you when he just met you not more than two hours ago.

“What, musty?” You joke.

“No,” he immediately corrects you, scratching his cheek as he looks away, trying to hide his blush. “I mean, the chamomile thing… It’s sweet. Just like you.”

You head over to his spot, trying to be as quiet as possible. “You’ve been sniffing me in secret?”

Shocked, Donghyuck immediately turns around. “No, it’s—” He abruptly stops when you’re closer than an arm’s reach away, lost for words as the close proximity between you allows him to count on your eyelashes if he wants.

“I’m just joking,” you whisper, fingers finding their way to curl slightly around the tiny silver pendant that sinks on the middle of his collarbones. The tension is there, the chemistry is sizzling and Donghyuck is surrendering without putting up a fight, giving in to you, to your touch, to the feeling of your mouth that’s about to—

But you break away before he can make any contact, walking your way to the kitchen as if nothing happened. “So, coffee?” 

Donghyuck can no longer hold back his groan. “You’re gonna continue teasing me like this? Is torturing men your sick hobby or something?”

“Only with the cute ones.” You send him a wink. “Take a seat, I’ll make you something.”

Fuming, Donghyuck takes a seat with a huff on your couch. The scent of brewed coffee soon fills the air, but somehow, to him, he’s drawn by the scent of your perfume more than anything. Trying to distract himself, he grabs a book that you left forgotten on the coffee table, quickly reading through the title. “Love Is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield. What’s this about?”

“About love,” you simply reply, adding some milk to the coffee. “And music.”

“Yeah, I get that from the title, thanks.” You can imagine him rolling his eyes again, almost making yourself giggle at the thought. “Is it any good?”

“It’s okay.” A cloud of steam erupts from the cups of coffee you just made and you tried to be as careful as possible as you carry them over to the living room. Donghyuck has his eyes scanning the pages of the book, just trying to get a glimpse of what it really is about when you pop up from behind the couch. “Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank—”

His lips are as soft as how you thought they would be but they’re warmer than your own when they meet yours. Donghyuck’s eyes are wide-opened, his breathing stops when he notices that you’re kissing him—in this position with him sitting on the couch, his face looking up at the ceiling and you’re kissing him upside-down while trying to balance both cups in your hands.

You wanted it to be chaste, just a small peck to tease him but Donghyuck’s hand finds its way to your cheek before you can break away, holding your face still so he can kiss you deeper and you let him do what he wants just for a few seconds before you cut him off with, “Unless you want scalding hot coffee on your hair, I think it’s best if I put these down first, don’t you agree?”

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything but you know he’s impatient, gradually going insane with the teasing. The second you're sitting right next to him on the couch, hands no longer occupied, Donghyuck tries to take the lead. “Can I kiss you?” And he’s braver this time, less shy, making your heart throb just a little bit harder at the sight.

“Yes,” you reply with a smile. “Yes, please.”

Donghyuck’s fingers are on your cheek again, and you’re startled that they feel a bit calloused compared to how lean and pretty they look. They’re quivering, and slightly damp, maybe because he’s nervous?

His breath fans your chin and you’re about to close your eyes when— “You’re not gonna tease me again this time, are you?” He demands confirmation, actually sounding concerned. “Because I don’t know if my pride can take any more of your heartless jokes.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You tug him by the collar, hiding your amused grin. “Come here.”

His lips are just grazing yours before he pulls away again, slightly hyperventilating. “If you seriously pull another joke—”

“I won’t! I swear—” Suddenly, a realization dawns on you. “Wait. You’re not scared of kissing me, are you…?”

“I’m—” It’s no use, he thinks, she can see right through me. “Yes. I don’t know if I can do this well.”

You titter. “We literally just kissed before, Hyuck.”

“That was just me being swept by the moment!” He whines, “But now I’m so conscious about everything.” When he speaks again, he says the words in whispers. “And you’re so pretty too—I don’t want to mess this up. Not again.”

You don’t blush easily, but the way he says that so innocently like a boy confessing his first love successfully sends heat rising to your cheeks. “Just try,” you offer, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’ll tell you if something feels wrong.”

“But—”

“Look, I just really want to kiss you,” you admit. “I don’t care if you’re not good at it. I just need you to kiss me now.” Bringing his hand to your face, you press a gentle kiss to his palm before you lean deeper into his touch. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

There’s no word to describe how badly he wants to ravish you right there but that’s what frightens him. What if he comes on too strong? What kind of guy do you like? Aggressive? Dominant? Submissive? Donghyuck’s head is about to explode and he’s sure he’s going to jump out of his skin from how nervous he is but he can’t deny the fact that he really wants to kiss you too so after taking one last look at your lips, the way they glisten slightly from your lip balm, he decides to just go the hell with it.

It’s hard, the way he presses his mouth against yours and he’s doing it so abruptly that you nearly groan from the pressure. But with your thumb tracing his cheekbone, he slowly begins to relax, his jaw slightly growing slack as he tries to respond to your parted lips.

Donghyuck is so nervous that he makes you, who’s pretty experienced in kissing, nervous. So after a few seconds more, you pull away. 

“D-did I do something wrong?” He hurriedly asks, eyes shaking as they search for yours.

“No,” you giggle, planting a small peck on his nose. “But you have got to relax. Here, let’s try this.” You move his hands to your lap. “May I?”

Donghyuck doesn’t know what the fuck are you asking him to do so he just sits there, frozen. With another chuckle, you shift your weight until you’re settled on his lap, legs spreading wide to wrap themselves around his back. Donghyuck stops breathing, cheeks turning scarlet.

“Hi,” you greet him casually, lips curving upward.

“H-hey…”

“Nervous?”

He shakes his head, trying to focus on everything else instead of the way your hips are pressing down on him. “Nope.”

“You’re kinda breathing hard, though.”

“Shut up.”

It’s hard to suppress your laugh, but you try your best for the sake of his pride. “And your hands go here.” You snatch his hands away from freezing mid-air down to your waist. “There. Comfortable?”

Donghyuck gulps hard, then he nods, two times more than necessary.

“Good.” You circle your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your body is pressing entirely against his and he can directly feel your laughter reverberating from your chest. “Now, try again?”

He nods, soft lips pressing against the corner of your mouth because he’s too nervous, he misses the spot. He tries again, planting his mouth stiffly on yours, fully at the center this time. He’s so rigid, his lips so tightly shut that they begin to grow white. Smirking in amusement, you tentatively lick his lower one, making him gasp and you take the chance to delve in deeper, parted lips melding against his, tongue shyly darting out for a taste and begging him to do the same.

The way Donghyuck sighs into your mouth indicates that he’s so immersed in the kiss, the knots loosening one by one. “How does it feel?” you ask when you give him some space to breathe, raising an eyebrow seductively at him.

Donghyuck unexpectedly yanks you back to him, fingers slipping between your strands and curling around your locks, his other hand fisting the back of your shirt. “Feels fucking great,” he breathes out, loving the way you fit perfectly in his arms. He emits a small moan that nearly slips past your ears, but thank God it doesn’t because it sounds so sexy, you almost curl your toes delightfully in response.

“Let me hear it more,” you breathily beg, parting your lips to kiss him deeper.

“W-what?”

“That sound you just made.” You’re kissing him harder, angling your face to the side. He stiffens when the tip of your tongue makes contact with his but once he gets the taste of you, he’s desperate for more.

It’s sloppy and messy and he’s wilder than any man you’ve ever kissed but he listens well to your body language—knows that you don’t like it when he uses too much tongue, understands that it’s okay to nibble at your lip but don’t devour it like how he did the last time.

He’s getting better within minutes and instead of him making the sounds, it’s you who are mewling against his mouth, mumbling pleads after pleads, whispering, “Do that again. Please.” whenever he does something right and Donghyuck obeys every command with unmatched desire.

Soon, ardent lips are moving down to the column of your throat and you hiss when he grits his teeth along your skin. “S-sorry, was that too much?” He asks, pulling away to analyze your expression.

“No,” you assure him, head hazy with passion, “Do it again. It’s hot.”

Donghyuck’s ears are blazing red but he dips his head low, running his teeth along the supple skin again. “Umm, can I—”

“Yes, yes,” you sigh, cradling his head with both arms. “You can mark me however you want, I don’t care. Do it.”

Donghyuck’s lips are soft as he latches them to your skin but the way he sucks on a particular spot is rough that you know, he’s going to leave nasty bruises by the next morning. But it feels fucking amazing knowing that he’s confident enough to be in control and it’s great to just drown yourself in the moment, in the hands of a stranger, just for the night.

“Clothes.” You can’t seem to break away from his mouth, even when the bitter taste of alcohol still stands vividly on his tongue. “Off. Now.”

“Mine or yours?” He’s asking for your consent, and it’s cute and all but now you’re too aching for his touch and him asking every little thing is just… distracting.

“Both.” The way you’re tugging on his shirt is enough to tear the fabric apart.

“No, you first.” And he flips your position, pushing you down to the couch without warning that a small yelp break free from your mouth. The previous gentleness is gone, replaced by fervor as he slides your shirt over your head, tosses it somewhere without a care, and dives his head down so he can suck bruises on your neck again.

They’re so thrilling—his kisses, his touches, his hot breathing—and they burn like fire on your skin, pumping adrenaline through your veins. You guide his hand to your chest and he whimpers lightly when his fingers slip underneath your bra. “Touch me,” you whisper, pulling his earlobe between your teeth. “I want to feel you on me.”

“Fuck.” He’s going insane but he doesn’t care. He loves this feeling, loves the excitement, loves the way his heart is racing so fast, it feels like he’s having a heart attack, and he loves the way you arch your back to close the space between you.

He hasn’t even taken his leather jacket off but his jeans are now hanging loose on his hips, unbuttoned and unzipped from your desperate hands. As you grind your hips against him, you can tell just how much he’s aching for your touch.

“Wait—” He breaks away when you’re about to slip your hand inside his boxers. He’s so embarrassed that he begins to feel nauseous and you’re enjoying every second of it. “A-are you sure about this?”

You’re breathing hard but your heartbeat gradually becomes steady as you give him time to recollect his thoughts. “Of course, I am,” you say, smirking. “Didn’t you see where my hand was going?”

Donghyuck swallows hard, has no courage in looking at you in the eyes. “But I don’t… have a condom with me.”

“You didn’t think that you’d be getting any sex tonight?” He seems like he’s dying by this point. “You’re cute, have I told you that?”

“Ugh, stop making fun of me already!” He attempts an act of revenge by tickling you on the sides of your stomach but when he accidentally brushes himself against your knee, he whines. “God, this is torture.”

“I might have to start inventing a new word to describe you because cute isn’t cutting it anymore. Now, shall we take care of that?” You lean forward to grab your purse from the coffee table, rummaging it until you find a packet of condom. Slightly tearing at it with your teeth, you wink at him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

Donghyuck looks both impressed and disappointed. “How often do you do this exactly?”

“What, are you jealous?” You hook a finger around his silver necklace, playing with it. “Are we on that stage of relationship already? I wasn’t aware.”

He sighs, looking genuinely upset but knows that it’d be weird for him to continue to be vexed about it since you’re not committed to one another. We were just strangers a couple of hours ago for God’s sake, so why the hell am I feeling like this?

“Hey…” You tenderly stroke his cheek. “I don’t do this often. I just always carry one around because my friends tend to forget about it. I’m kind of like the safe sex police or something.”

“It’s—” He notices how you’re babying him. “It’s not like I care. I mean, even if you do this a lot, it’s none of my business.”

“It’s not?” You bat your eyelashes, making him gulp. “I thought you were jealous about it. I got happy over nothing then.”

He’s enticed by your act, you know it, but he has too much pride to admit it. “Then,” he starts, stealing the packet of condom away from your fingers. “Shall we get to it?”

But despite him trying to act cool and mature about it, his fingers still shake when he tries to rip open the package. You lean up, giggling all the way, stopping his hands with yours. “Let’s just take your clothes off first, shall we?”

And with your mouth on his, Donghyuck could only cave in.

The light of the room is dim, and without the TV on, the only sound you can hear is his heavy breathing mixed with your own. He’s lying down on the couch, bare-chested with his necklace glinting on his tanned skin. He keeps peeping at the way you’re sitting so comfortably on his lap, your fingertips tracing his V-lines.

“Stop staring,” he says when you’re busy ogling at the happy trail that disappears behind the hem of his jeans.

“Can’t a woman enjoy the view?” You wiggle your eyebrows and he rolls his eyes in response. “Look, I didn’t know you were this hot, okay? Let me just appreciate you for a bit.”

“Okay, that’s it, come here.” Donghyuck throws you off his lap but only so he can carry you in his arms. 

You’re fumbling with your hands, trying your best to hold him close so you won’t lose your balance. “Hyuck—what—”

“I hate being treated like a thirteen-year-old girl,” he grumbles, furrowing his eyebrows as he kicks open the door to your bedroom. “I’ll show you who’s in charge.”

And the room is filled with your laughter and your constant jeer—“You? In charge? How cute.”—that soon recedes into short gasps and muffled moans when Donghyuck has his mouth on your chest, circling his tongue along your sensitive nub while flicking the other one with his thumb. He lets you stroke him from above his jeans, slightly pushing his hips down, asking you to rub him harder.

“Take these off,” you breathe out. “Please.”

He obliges without a word. As he pushes the fabric down his thighs, both his jeans and boxers at the same time until they pool just above his knees, you quickly settle down in front of him, releasing him out of his confinement and curling your fingers around his length.

“Jesus—fuck,” Donghyuck gasps, placing his hand on your hair in reflex. You tilt your head up, fascinated by his expression—his half-lidded eyes, his parted lips, his chest heaving up and down—and when your gaze meet each other, you bring your head down.

Donghyuck’s grip around your hair tightens when he feels your tongue pressing against his tip, just teasing him with a few kitten licks. When the muscles in his abs are relaxing to the sensation, reeling in your soft touches, you begin to suck hard without warning, making his hips buckle forward, and Donghyuck throws his head back with a loud groan erupting from the back of his throat. A train of expletives is sprouting out of his mouth and he sounds so fucking sexy—so raw, guttural, unlike how angelic he sounds when he sings.

His eyes never leave yours, enthralled by the sight of his cock disappearing little-by-little in your mouth. He pushes the bangs out of your eyes, biting the corner of his lip while unconsciously pushing your head down to take him deeper into your mouth. You love the way he’s so dazed, hissing and moaning at every little ministration you do. “You’re so sensitive,” you chuckle against his skin. You engulf him once more, your words muffled by his skin. “Does it feel that good?”

“Don’t speak when—” He flinches, feeling a knot tightening in his stomach. “Shit, can I move? I just—I want—”

You know what he wants and you allow him to. Affirming with a nod, you close your eyes and let your jaw hangs loose.

Donghyuck moves his hips, slowly at first as if he’s afraid of breaking you apart but when you try to smile at him, he groans lowly and picks up the pace. Your eyes begin to water when his tip hits the back of your throat and while most men pay little attention and will continue until you protest with words, Donghyuck immediately pulls away. “Are—are you okay?” He sits on his heels, checking your face and wipes the tear away with his thumb. “Was it too much? I’m sorry, I’ve never—“

“It’s fine,” you comfort him, taking his hand away from your cheek so you can kiss his fingertips. “Stop being so sweet, you’re gonna make me fall for you.” And this is supposed to be a one-time thing. 

But what’s supposed to be a joke doesn’t feel like one when Donghyuck’s gaze softens and he kisses you in the gentlest way someone has never done to you before. You hate to say this, hate how sappy your mind can be at times like this, but it does feel like butterflies are crawling in your stomach when he gathers you in his arms, murmuring your name against your ear.

When he lies you down on the bed, his touches are almost paper-thin, stripping you out of your clothes entirely, and takes a moment to memorize every detail of your body, noticing every little scar, every faint mole, until you feel like you’re experiencing your first time all over again.

“You’re beautiful,” he confesses and with him, there’s only honesty. It’s uncomfortable the way your stomach somersaults from his line, but it’s probably just because you’re not familiar with the sensation.

Donghyuck is about to crawl down on you to return the favor but you’re craving to have him inside that you bring him back to you with a tug of his arm. “We can do that later,” you suggest. “Kiss me.” He’s more than eager to comply. It’s slow and innocent but it doesn’t take long before the purity disappears once you place the condom around him, your fingers stroking him up and down until he’s hot and ready. He settles down between your thighs, his breathing tatters as his heart hammers wildly inside his chest. “C-can I?”

“Please.”

Inhaling sharply, he pushes in.

The lube helps to soothe the pain away but Donghyuck slides in so slowly, murmuring, “Fuck, how are you so tight,” under his breath and you twist your fingers on the sheets. The thought of him being inside you finally sinks in your head and it feels somewhat dangerous, it’s exciting.

You flinch when the friction burns a little and he starts to panic again. “Oh God, are you okay? Am I too big for you?”

All the excitement you felt before? Gone.

“Okay, now you should stop asking questions because first, there’s too much talking and not enough sex.” You add another finger in the air. “Second, I feel like you’re enjoying this too much. I know I’m straightforward but that doesn’t mean you can ask me to praise you every single time.”

That eases him off a bit. A sheepish smile creeps up his lips. “I thought that would work.”

“Isn’t it about time you fuck me already?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He pushes harder this time and you can feel the exact moment when he’s sheathed deep inside you. His temple is pressed against your shoulder when he exhales heavily, “It’s so… hot inside…”

You embrace him, quietly chuckling at his comment. But then you remember something. “Hyuck.”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.” You grab him by the shoulder, making him freeze. He hovers above you, worried that he’s hurting you but soon relaxes when you give him a tender smile. “I know it’s late to ask this but are you sure about this?” you question, concern painting your face. “Isn’t this your first time?”

He blinks twice before he breaks into a burst of small laughter. “I already have my dick buried deep inside you and you’re just asking me this now? Get your priority straight, woman, please.”

You roll your eyes. “Someone was rubbing his hard dick against my thigh, so I was too distracted by it, please do forgive me, my Lord.”

“Why you little—” He pinches your nose until you whine and slaps his hand away. “It’s fine,” he answers when all jokes have subsided, “It doesn’t really matter to me anyway. Actually, I’m—” He catches himself, breaking eye contact as he murmurs something so quietly, it doesn’t reach your ears.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I’m glad I’m doing this with you!” But despite his words, his face is contorting into a pout and he looks like an angry child, upset that his friends are playing a game without him. You try to hide your laughter by peppering kisses down his jawline but fail miserably. “Ugh, I’m so tired of having you laugh at me!” He pins your hands down to the bed. “I’m gonna move now.”

And before you can utter your remark, Donghyuck pulls away just so he can thrust inside you once again, deeper and stronger this time and you’re so caught off guard, you clutch your arms around his neck for support.

“Was—is this okay?” 

You nod fervently. “Again.”

Donghyuck’s hands are now moving down to your hips, holding you in place as he tries to find his rhythm. “God, does it always feel this good?”

“Depends on the person,” you chuckle between soft moans.

Donghyuck hums, slamming his hips down.“Well then, you feel so fucking good to me.”

He progressively picks up his confidence but he never forgets to check on your condition every once in a while. Every time he tries to slam his hips down a bit harder, spread your legs a bit wider, he always asks, “Am I hurting you?” and you’re having the hardest time concentrating on answering every single thing that you just shout, “Just fucking do it, Hyuck, you’re doing everything perfectly.”

For his first time, Donghyuck surprisingly can hold himself long and he enjoys experimenting so much, trying his best to find the perfect angle to maximize his pleasure. By the point you’re having your face pressed against the bed, his nails sinking into your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, you’re practically sobbing to the sheet.

“Are you okay?” He asks, hips slowing down. “Should I stop?”

“No!” You groan, desperately moving your hips, asking for more friction. “Not even if I beg you to.”

“But—”

“Hyuck, I’ve given you my consent. So if I start to cry, that’s probably because you’re doing it so well so stop asking questions and just fuck me.”

That was a whole embarrassing speech that you’re most likely going to regret later on—knowing his personality, he’s going to tease you all about it for sure—but it felt necessary at that time because you just really want him to move.

And maybe he’s feeling the same because after that, no words falter from his lips. He picks up the pace, grunting when his thrust meets a particular spot that makes you squeeze around him.

“Oh, God.” His hips go frantic. “What was that? It felt so good—”

“I know, do it again—just—” You’re rambling, you know, even the sounds in your head aren’t making any sense right now. 

Donghyuck is so sensitive, so overwhelmed with the feeling of you quivering around him, with the sight of you with your back arch forward, with the sound of your moans muffled by the sheets, that he knows he’s not gonna last long.

“I’m—” The movement of his hips is going out of rhythm. “I don’t think I can—“

But before he can finish, you move away from him, detaching yourself so suddenly, his jaw nearly dislocates from his face. The sound of his protest instantly morphs into a loud, helpless moan, however, when you push him down to the bed, hands splayed on his chest, and sinking yourself down onto his length.

Donghyuck’s hands are holding you by the waist and he’s holding it so tightly, you’re sure he’ll leave another nasty mark on your body but you don’t care. This position allows you to graze your favorite spot and you use him to maximize your own pleasure.

Donghyuck sits up so he can smash his lips against yours and you bounce harder on his lap, triggered by the perfect taste of his tongue sliding against yours. When he comes, you drown out every little moan that he makes with your mouth but you keep moving your hips until you reach your own orgasm.

“Wait, I just came—” he hisses, trying to stop you but you pull him into another kiss, muting the beautiful noises he makes as you guide his hand to your heat, begging him to add friction to your clit. When he does, you don’t last long. You come with a choked sob and Donghyuck kisses it away like you previously did.

When you’ve stopped trembling on his lap, Donghyuck pulls you back to the bed, wrapping his long arms protectively around your figure, bringing you closer to his chest to the point that you can hear his heartbeat.

“You okay?” He asks again for God knows how many times that night.

You slap him playfully on the chest. “What do you think?”

“I think you just had the best sex of your life.” He grins annoyingly.

“Best sex of my life?” You snort. “Had I known you’d be this cheeky, I wouldn’t have saved your wimpy ass.”

“But then we wouldn’t have this. You wouldn’t have,” he repeats his words in your ear, “the best sex of your life.”

You push your palm against his face, attempting to wipe the smirk away. “Stop saying that, you’re gross!” But it startles you that it’s true. He just gave you the best sex of your life and that was his first time. 

What can this man do when he has enough practice? You’re so intrigued by the thought, you almost shudder. But then again, we probably won’t meet again after this.

“You’ve grown exceptionally quiet,” he says when you turn around on his embrace, facing the wall. His lips are grazing your hairline as he speaks. “You’re not bored of me yet, are you?”

It’s funny because somehow, you can sense the sadness in his voice as if he mirrors your thought. “I should be asking you that question.”

He pulls away, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What?”

“We’re strangers, Hyuck.” You sigh, turning around to face him once more. “And we’ve got what we wanted from each other.”

“So, you’re saying that it’s over just like that?”

“Do you still want to continue this?”

“Of course, I do!” He snaps, frowning hard. “I just had the best night of my life!”

“You’re—” Few seconds pass by where you try to convince yourself that it’s honesty in his eyes but you realize that you don’t have to because the answer is always clear. It’s not just you who feels so captivated by his charms, he’s just as wrapped around your fingers like you are around his. “I think I want to continue this too.”

“Then, don’t scare me like that.” He flicks your nose, not too hard but enough to make you flinch in surprise. “From now on, you’re my girlfriend and we’ll go on dates, share snacks during our movie-marathon, and do some other cute shit that lovers do.”

“Whoa. So suddenly like this? I don’t think we’re ready for that stage yet.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Baby, I literally just had my dick inside you, what else are you waiting for?”

Your heart jolts at the little pet name he gave you and how natural it sounds coming from his mouth. With your fingers tapping against the smoothness of his lips, you seductively invite him. “Let’s try and get your dick inside me once more, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Donghyuck lets one of your fingers slide between his lips,  playfully biting it before he kisses the rest of your fingertips. “You’re unbelievable,” he professes with that sinful smirk of his that makes you weak. “Is it too soon to say I love you?”

You let him kiss you once before you answer. “By how fast we’re progressing, I’m not even surprised if we end up marrying each other tomorrow.”

“Whoa. So suddenly like this? I don’t think we’re ready for that stage yet.”

“Shut up!”

***

[aubreyprc]

all through the night

‘all through the night

i’ll be awake

and i’ll be with you’

summary - hotch is in a building hit by a dirty bomb and gets radiation poisoning. (established hotchniss - season 4 anthrax episode re write but i just?? make it worse. (for @ssa-m-187 bc ? she badgered me about this for ??? eight days straight✋🏻 also she is 21 now everyone say happy birthday)

ao3

The word bomb echo's through the building and there’s three seconds before it goes off. Three seconds in which Hotch grabs Emily, pushing the both of them behind a wall, holding her to his chest as he does his best to cover her from the impending blast, only able to watch the other members of his team scatter behind other forms of what they hope will be shields, in the corner of his eye he can see Morgan grab Reid, pull the younger man into his chest in a similar way as he is shielding Emily, head pressed into his shoulders, hand on the back of his head and in another situation he would probably question it, but he hears the click of something in the distance and holds Emily tighter, pressing her face further into his neck as they grip onto each other, her arms resting around his waist.

Closing his eyes, he feels the building shake around them, the sound of bricks falling on the other side of them sounding louder as it echos into their ears. The ringing sound that follows is unpleasant, but not unwelcome, because it’s a sound that they’re okay. That they made it.

Right?

“Are you okay?” he asks as the ringing in their ears almost knocks them to the floor. He cups her cheeks, forcing her to look at him as her legs give out underneath her, the unbalance of her hearing knocking her sense of gravity off course and he follows her to the floor, terror rising in his chest as she stares at him, squinting her eyes as pain rushes through her head, coughing slightly as dust hits her chest and lungs.

“Emily,” he says as best he can, his own voice sounding like an echo in his own ears. “sweetheart, can you hear me?” he asks her, complete horror coming down on him as he realises that she could have hearing damage, could have —

“What happened?” she asks, reaching out to grab him as they both rush to their feet, the shouts of the team and other people in the building registering at a louder frequency as the ringing silences.

“A bomb.” he tells her, “are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m— I’m okay.” she nods, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together as they stand and he smiles, running his thumb across her cheek before Morgan’s voice is hitting their ears.

“We have to get our of here.” he tells the, coming up to the side of them and reaching out to grab Emily’s arm, rushing the two of them from the building. Hotch squeezes Emily’s hand when she turns to face him, smiling softly at her as an indication that they’re okay and she smiles back.

As soon as they’re outside they all take large breaths, Emily’s hand sliding from his as she coughs, the fresh air forcing her lungs to recoil. He runs a hand down her back before walking towards the bomb squad, a million questions on his mind and he’s half way there when a scream hits everyone’s ears and renders them frozen, before they all turn back to the building.

“What was that?” Emily asks as Hotch makes his way back to her, everyone’s eyes on the building. “Who else was in there?”

“Did we ever find out if this was where he was hiding the girl?” Morgan asks, staring back to the team. “We barley had time to even look around before the bomb was activated. She could have been in there.”

“You think that scream was her?” Emily asks, rubbing a hand over her sore chest.

“I think it’s a possibility.” he tells her and she sighs.

“I’ll go back in.” Aaron says and all eyes snap to him.

“What?” Emily asks, “Are you insane?”

“The chance of another bomb going off now is unlikely—”

“But not impossible.” she argues back, “you’re not risking your life for a— a chance that someone is in there.”

“I don’t have a choice.” he tells her, “we all heard that scream, if we do nothing and it turns out she was in there and we could have saved her… would you ever be able to forgive yourself?” he asks the team, each member staying silent.

“You—” Emily tries to argue back, before turning her head to the team, staring at them until they catch on, and slowly walk out of ear shot. “You’re not going in there.”

“I have to—”

“No.” she tells him, “Have someone else to in. Someone from bomb squad. Someone—”

“You know I have to.” he says and she stops talking, looking to the floor as she crosses her arms over herself, looking up slightly when he places a finger under her chin. “I’ll be okay.”

“You can’t die.” she tells him, and he smiles while he nods.

“I won’t.” he assures her, “would it make you feel better if I promised?” he jokes and she rolls her eyes, a smirk growing on her face.

“Do you? Promise?” she questions as she looks at him and he stares back.

“I promise.” he whispers, and she nods, watching with complete terror as he follows a member of bomb squad back into the building.

“He’s going to be fine.” Morgan says, throwing an arm over her shoulder and kissing her temple. “He’s going to be fine.” he repeats, unsure of who he’s trying to convince as Hotch disappears out of eyesight.

She’s being seen by a medic, rolling her eyes at Morgan as he forces the oxygen mask back on her face while wearing his own, muttering something about how if Hotch was here he’d duck tape it to her face when there’s a shout from across the path, men in hazmat suits running towards the building and she swears in that moment she feels her heart stop.

“What—” she mumbles, standing and watching the suited men rush into the building, her heart now hammering against her chest as terror settles into her veins and she’s rushing over to the bomb squad before she even registers that she needs to move.

“What’s going on?” she asks them, her voice laced with fear and worry, her eyes burning into theirs.

“It was a dirty bomb.” he tells her regretfully, knowing full well who went back in, knowing full well who he was to her.

“A dirty—” she inhales, pressing a hand to her stomach as she tries to catch her breath, her heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of her chest.

“You all need to get tested for radiation poisoning but… we’re hopeful that you all got out quick enough for there to be no issues.”

“But what—” she shakes her head, nothing making sense, because this can not be happening. “What about everyone that went back in? How much exposure—” she doesn’t continue, the look in his eye all too familiar, one she’s seen before, one she gives to families when it’s bad news and all she can do is shake her head while she forces herself to try and breathe as her chest feels heavy, fear turning into horror, horror turning into something indescribable, a feeling she’s never felt before and it has her whole body aching with dread. She looks towards the building, can hear the shouts of his and another name she doesn’t recognise echo through the rubble and it has her running, a need to be in there, a need to find him, a need for him to be okay. She barley even knows she’s moving until there’s someone grabbing her waist, lifting her off her feet and turning her around, wrapping her into their arms.

“I can’t let you do that, princess.” Morgan whispers, fighting tooth and nail with her to keep her in his hold, “stop.” he tells her. “stop.” he says again, grabbing her tighter to the point where he knows it has to be hurting her, yet she wont give up, fighting his hold like her life depended on it and he's left with no choice but to let her go, only to grab her shoulders when she turns to move again and make her look at him. "Stop." he tells her again but this time his eyes burn into hers, and the fear that stares back at him almost makes him nauseous.

"Let me go." she tells him, trying to force herself from his hold but he's stronger than her. "Morgan, please." she pleads, "let me go."

"I can't do that." he tells her softly, "you know I can't."

She opens her mouth to speak, a plea on the tip of her tongue but it comes out as an exhale, a small cry at the end of it as she drops her head, covering her face with her hands as she takes deep breaths. She feels herself being pulled into his chest, his hand on the back of her head as he comforts her but its useless and they both know it. There isn't any comfort in a situation like this, how could there be?

He's brought out on a gurney a few moments later, the sound of shouts a few yards away catching her attention and she looks over before taking off in a run, at his side in moments as paramedics in full kits rush to his aid, she can see him looking at her, notices his hand reaching out for her and her heart aches as he grunts in pain, mumbling her name as she's pushed back by paramedics, explanations of how unsafe this is and that unfortunately you can't see him right now, he could have radiation poisoning hitting her ears but none of it registers as she pushes past them, latching his hand with hers as she smiles down at him, ignoring the protests of the paramedics as she follows them into the ambulance only to be stopped before she could get in.

"Agent. You really aren't allowed to be near him without proper—" he starts, but another interrupts.

"He's in a lot of pain, were going to have to knock him out." they explain and the other nods, before looking back at Emily.

"Just—" she starts, "let me sit with him and once he's out I'll go." she bargains and the man sighs. "I was in the building anyway, there a fifty percent chance I have it—"

"Fine." he gives in, and she thanks him before rushing in, sitting at Aaron's side and takes his hand in hers, smiling when he looks at her.

"Hey," he croaks out, "you're okay?"

"I'm okay." she smiles, holding back her tears as she runs a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead. "You're okay too." she says, nodding at the paramedic as he readies to put him out. "I love you." she whispers, and the smile on his face has her heart aching in her chest.

"I love you too." he repeats as he falls under, his hand going limp in hers and once his eyes close her head drops, silent cries leaving her body as she squeezes it.

"Agent Prentiss I can't stress this enough, I need you to step out—"

"I know." she sighs sadly, running her hand through his hair once more before existing, sending one last look his way as she watches the door's close.

"Come on." Morgan says, gently pushing her to get her moving, "we have to get to the hospital." she simply nods, lets him lead her to the SUV as her mind runs wild with different outcomes, the sound of the team talking seeming like background noise as she grabs the necklace from around her neck, staring at the ring hooked through it, feeling the future they had planned together slip through her fingers.

Eight Months Ago

She knows something is... off the moment she wakes up to an empty bed, her hand finding a sheet instead of a person. She frowns, looking at the vacant space next to her, she expects to maybe hear him in the shower, but the bedroom and the ensuite are.. silent, something it never is this early in the morning.

That off feeling doesn't fade, it instead increases when she makes her way through the house, stepping into the kitchen to find him turning quickly at the sound of her arrival and ending the call.

"Hey," he smiles, "you're up early." he tells her and she frowns, looking at the clock behind him.

"Its just past nine..." she says suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at him, "its our first day off this month, I expected you to be sleeping in."

"Couldn't sleep." he explains, "Coffee?" he asks and she nods, squinting her eyes at him as he moves around the kitchen; he walks over to her with the cup, smiling at her as he passes it over before catching her lips in his. "Good morning." he whispers against her lips and she smiles.

"Good morning." she whispers, smiling when he kisses her again before wrapping an arm around her waist. "care to share who was on the phone?" she teases, bringing the cup to her lip.

"I—" he begins, but his phone rings again and she smiles, watching through the top of the cup as he sighs, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Chief Strauss," he says and she rolls her eyes, "good morning." he adds but they already know what the conversation is going to be, something about a case, something about them being asked for by name, something that is going to rob them of their day off and so she heads out of the kitchen, sipping her coffee as she walks back into the bedroom.

He comes up behind her a few minuets later while she stands at the sink, wraps his arms around her with his head on her shoulder as they look at each other through the mirror, her head leaning sideways to rest on his.

"Where?" she questions.

"It's local. We can work it from the BAU." he tells her, "the rest of the team have been called as well."

"What's the case?" she asks and he stands, kissing her temple.

"I have no idea." he says, "local PD requested us." she nods, watching him disappear out of the bathroom muttering to himself and she smiles, biting her bottom lip as she wraps herself further into his shirt.

He pushes the dinner forward a week, buries the ring deeper into a draw she's never opened and curses under his breath, laughing because of course this would happen. Nothing about them had ever been easy, why should this be?

He doesn't even think about it, the ring, the proposal... pushes it to the back of his mind and it remains there for almost the entirety of the case, almost...It all happens pretty quickly after that.

She and Morgan are walking through the suspects house, he can hear their voices through their ear pieces and the sound of her voice is soothing as he stands outside, nerves firing through him.

The sound of the gun shot echo's, and everyone stills, waiting, praying for the moment where their friends voices come through the ear piece, but this time the waiting seems longer than it had been before, they seem to be left with silence for minuets rather than mere moments and his nerves turn to terror as he feels the team turn to face him, waiting for their next move, waiting for something. And he's about to speak, about to order them to run in behind him, be prepared for anything, when there's a gasp in his ear, followed by coughs, and harsh wheezes. They can hear Morgan asking Emily if she's okay, can hear the mumble of her reply and the sound of her voice nearly has him dropping to his knees, the feeling of complete relief almost overwhelming as her voice continues to travel to his ear.

Once she's out, he waits until they're out of earshot, out of the teams eye line, and as soon as they are he grabs her, pulling her into his arms and exhaling, the feeling of her relaxing into his hold making his heart melt. She rests her head in his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his waist and she sighs.

"I'm okay." she whispers and he simply nods, pulling away gently to cup her cheeks, look at her while he smiles. "I'm okay." she says again, taking his hands in her own and slowly pulling them down, "lets go home." she tells him with a smile, lacing her hand into his and laughing when he kisses her temple, before leading the two of them back to the SUVs.

He's still pacing when they get home, always opening his mouth to say something before closing it, only to then start pacing again and after almost an hour she snaps.

"What is wrong with you?" she asks, standing and he turns, facing her with wide eyes. "You've never acted like this before." she tells him, "stop pacing, just... sit." she tells him and he just, looks at her, knowing he should agree, knowing that he is acting strange but... his brain wont stop screaming about that day's events, the way she could have died and she would have never seen the ring, never worn in, never known just how in love with her he was, and he can not sit still. "Aaron, I swear to god—" she starts but he's already pulling the box out of this pocket, the box he put there when they first gotten home over an hour ago, opens it and interrupts her.

"Marry me." he says, and her words stop, her eyes widen and she stares, at him, then at the ring, and then at him again. "I had this plan, we were going to go for dinner and I was going to ask you at the bench, on the park where..." he fades out, before starting again, "but then today you, you got shot and... there was this moment, this long, horrible moment when I thought you were dead and— and all I could think about was how you would never know. Never know how much I love you—" she silences him with a kiss, cupping his face gently as she does, a smile forming as they break apart and she bites her bottom lip, laughing happily as he stares at her with confusion.

"Is that a yes?" he questions, a smirk growing on his face and she laughs, nodding her head as she hooks an arm around the back of his neck and kisses him again.

"Of course I'll marry you." she laughs happily and he smiles, taking the ring out and placing it on her finger before kissing her again, the band a cold but welcome feeling on his cheek as she cups it.

"I love you." he whispers, the feel of her smile against his lips warming his heart.

"I love you too." she tells him.

That night, he reaches over to his night stand and pulls out a necklace, a small charm hanging loosely from it and she sits up from where she rested on his chest.

"What's that?" she asks with a smile and he smirks, grabbing her left hand, the feel of the band on her ring finger making his heart flutter.

"I was thinking... you could hook your ring through it, that way you can wear it on the filed or..." he fades out, looking at her as she smiles. She grabs the necklace gently, staring at the small charm attached to it before her eyes land back on him.

"I love it." she smiles, leaning down to kiss him, "and I love you."

"I love you too." he tells her, tracing a finger down her bare back as she smiles.

She's wearing the ring on the necklace the next day, the sight of her smile as she tucks in under her shirt one he wishes he could imprint behind his eyes and replay forever, a smile he knows he reserved just for him.

They're all tested for radiation before they're allowed to step foot in the building, all scattered close by each other as they wait, as do many others. Each member of the team watching Emily from the corner of their eye as she leans against the door of their SUV, twisting the ring in her finger as she stares at it, wiping her tears.

"Has she said anything?" JJ asks Morgan when he comes up beside her, running a hand over his head.

"No," he tells her, "I don't—" he starts but stops himself, sighing with a shake of his head, "someone needs to call Haley..."

"I think Dave's already on it." she tells him, nodding her head towards the older man as he speaks on the phone a few yards away. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, under the circumstances." he says, "I think we all probably got out in time."

"If Aaron —" she starts, but he wont listen.

"I can't think about that." he tells her, casting his eyes to Emily again, "it will destroy her."

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to answer, a doctor heading their way.

"You're all clear." he tells them, "Agent Hotchner is still being seen to, but you're welcome to sit in the waiting area. I will come and get you the moment I know anything."

They thank him, a small, sad smile on their faces as they follow behind him into the hospital and Spencer turns, meeting Emily's eye as she trails behind them and he takes her hand and smiles when she accepts it.

"He's okay." he tells her, but they both know he can't be sure of that.

"Yeah." she whispers, following the team into the hospital, glancing once again to the necklace that rests in her palm, her ring feeling heavier than it usually does.

The wait seems like days as they sit there, each one coping differently. Spencer sits next to Emily, watching her closely as she stares ahead, her expression completely blank as her mind continues to run wild, JJ and Penelope sit across from her, the two blonde women ready to be there for whatever she needs should something happen, Dave leans against the wall, silent prayers leaving his mouth and Derek paces, the sound of his steps the only sound in the room.

"Will you sit down?" Emily snaps after a few more minuets and the man stops, turning his head to her, "you're making me dizzy."

"Yeah," he says gently, taking a seat next to Reid, "sorry."

Emily sighs, dropping her head forward and she's just about to apologise for snapping when a doctor finally appears.

"How is he?" Dave asks instantly as the doctor stands in front of them, and the look on her face has Emily turning around, a hand over her mouth as she exhales a shaky breath, a hand falling to her stomach as it turns violently, horror feeling like a brick in her gut.

"We did everything we could." she tells them once Emily turns to face her again, "we tried every antibiotic, tried every fluid... he was exposed for too long, there is nothing we can do. I'm sorry."

"What—" Emily says, clearing her throat, "what now?"

"We make him as comfortable as possible, keep him on a high dose of morphine for the next few hours, he will become short of breath, he'll have a high fever, he'll be nauseous... he'll be in a lot of pain." she tells her sadly, her tone full of regret and remorse.

"How long?" Emily asks her, and the woman sighs.

"I can't say for sure, some last a few hours, some a few days." she tells her, before sighing, "he currently has a high fever, he's on a morphine drip right now and is being filled with fluids. He had a high exposure to the radiation... I don't see him lasting the weekend." she tells her gently.

Emily inhales, clutching the ring that is back around her neck as she inhales, short, harsh breaths leaving her chest as she walks backwards.

"Can we see him?" Dave asks her.

"You can see him, yes, but I'm afraid you can't enter the room, there is a intercom on the wall, you can stay as long as you like."

"But we can't see him?" Derek asks and the doctor nods.

"No, I'm sorry..." she says, "If you'll excuse me." she tells them, sending them a sad smile before walking away, leaving them to process the news.

Everyone remains still, taking in the information, trying to understand it, no one hears footsteps heading towards them, and it's a small voice that breaks their trance.

"Where's daddy?" Jack asks them, resting on his mother's hips as she stands in front of them, and it isn't until Haley meets Emily eyes, sees the grief and heartbreak that stares back at her that it hits her.

"No..." she says, shaking her head, "he—"

"Why don't I take Jack?" JJ offers, smiling as the boy goes gently into her arms. She tilts her head for the team to follow, leaving the two women to talk.

"How long?" Haley asks her when its just two of them and Emily shakes her head, forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat.

"They don't know." she tells her, "could be hours, could be days but they—" she stops, "they don't see him lasting longer than the weekend."

"Oh my g—" her words trail off, a hand coming over her mouth as she takes in Emily's words. "Where... where is he?" she asks.

"The ICU." Emily tells her, "you can't go in the room but there's an... intercom, outside." she says, "Jack should see him, if you —" but she doesn't continue, she can't, the pain in her chest becoming overwhelming.

"Yeah." Haley whispers, turning to look at her son as he smiles, oblivious to what is going on around him. "I'm sorry." she tells her and Emily looks up. "You're loosing the man you love and.. I'm sorry."

"Me too." Emily smiles sadly, "Excuse me." she says, passing her quickly and heading down the hall, out of sight as soon as she turns the corner and Haley puts on a smile and heads back to her son.

"I'm... going to take him to see Aaron." she tells the team, "one of you should go and find Emily." she tells them and Derek nods, already stepping to the side to pass her.

"He'll be breathless, he might have a fever but... he should see him." Reid tells her, "Before its too late."

Haley nods, stroking her sons cheek as she turns to smile at him, holding back her own tears for the sake of their child.

"You want to see Daddy?" she asks and the boy smiles, nodding his head. "Okay, come on." she says and they follow his doctor towards the ICU.

Derek finds her leaning on the wall, the back of her head resting against it as she closes her eyes, forces herself to keep breathing even though her heart feels like its going to snap inside of her chest.

"Haley took Jack to see him." he tells her, "you should go and see him to."

"How is this happening?" she asks him after a few moments, her voice small and broken, a sound he's never heard from her before and he hates it. Her eyes scream how much pain she's in, the tear falling down her cheek making him feel sick and he can only imagine how heartbroken she is, the thought of it being Spencer making his body recoil.

"I don't know, princess." he whispers, gently pulling her into his chest. "I'm sorry." he tells her gently, placing a kiss onto her head, feeling his heart physically shatter when her body rakes with sobs, the sound of them like a twist of a knife to his gut and all he can do is hold her tighter, knowing the one thing she needs is the one thing he can't give her...

a future with the man she loves.

Wiping her tears she heads down the hall, slowing her steps when she hears Jack talking to his father through the intercom, a small laugh leaving his body as he speaks. She smiles sadly at Haley when the woman turns, crossing her arms over herself as though she could protect herself from the inevitable. From the heartbreak, the loss, the grief that already felt like it was consuming her.

"Say goodbye," Haley whispers to her son, keeping her voice soft to avoid the crack and Jack smiles, waving at his father from the other side of the door, a sad goodbye daddy sounding more final than it ever should coming from such a young boy.

She stops in front of the other woman, Jack giving her a small wave as he rests his head on his mothers shoulder, a wave she gives back with a smile, the one he reciprocates reminding her of his father and her heart feel heavy, as she looks away.

"He..." Haley says, "he doesn't look good, Emily." she tells the other woman. "I think the weekend is a bit... out of reach." she whispers and all Emily can do is nod, taking a deep breath as she looks to the floor.

"Will you call me?" Haley asks, and she looks up, "when it happens? I don't want to hear it from Dave or... Morgan while they act like they get it..." she explains with such a sad tone that it almost has her dropping to the floor.

"Of course," she tells her, "I get that." she nods, and Haley smiles.

"Bye Emmy," Jack says softly as Haley begins walking off.

"Bye," she smiles at the boy, waving slightly as he looks at her other his mothers shoulder as they head out of view.

She clears her throat, taking a few breaths before she heads over to his room, she knew there is no way to prepare herself for this but the sight of him attached to wires, his body shivering as sweat pumps off him, his violent coughs forcing his body to recoil forward is an image she knows will haunt her forever.

"Hey..." she says through the intercom with a smile and he turns to her, a smile growing on his own face when he see's her, no longer scrunched in pain but, happy, light.

"Hi," he smiles, "how are you feeling?" he asks her and she laughs, truly laughs for the first time in over three hours and raises an eyebrow at him.

"How am I feeling?" she laughs, "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I suppose," He smirks, before looking at her, "you're okay?" he asks and she swallows, nodding her head as she tries to remain smiling.

"I'm okay." she tells him, "are you?"

"I am now." he smiles, "Emily I—" he starts, before his body recoils forward, harsh chokes coming from his chest as he gasps for air and she's being moved out of the way before she can even process what's happening, can only watch as doctors in full protective gear rush into the room, her back hitting the wall with force as she continues to back up.

"What happened?" Reid asks as the team head over to her, she just shakes her head.

"I—," she starts, "I don't know." she tells them, her eyes not leaving the room even as the curtains close, blocking him from view.

"Agent Prentiss?" someone says a moment later, everyone's head turning towards them. "May I talk with you for a moment?"

The woman just nods, pushing herself of the wall, she follows the doctor down the hall, taking one last look at the closed off room before turning a corner towards the doctors office.

As she takes a seat the doctor smiles at her, an uneasy feeling in her stomach increasing as she looks at her.

"What's going on?" she asks apprehensively, "I need to—"

"I understand you are Agent Hotchners fiancée... I'll make this as quick as I can I know this can not be easy."

"What?" she asks, her stomach clenching with nerves.

"Something came up on your tests, something you aren't probably aware of yet." she tells her, "You're pregnant, Agent Prentiss." she says after a few moments, and Emily freezes, taking a breath.

"I'm sorry?" she asks, "What do you mean I'm— No.." she stutters, her mind working overtime as she tries to understand, tries to take in the entire day's events on top of the news she's being given. "What?"

"About three weeks, I would say. Very, very early on, I figure you wouldn't have even realised a change in cycle yet." she tells her, "I understand this is tough news given the circumstances and you do have options.."

"Options?" Emily asks, "I—" she stops, "Pregnant?" she questions.

"Yes." the doctor tells her, handing her a sheet with a handful of different results on it and she inhales as she see's it, the bold positive across from the word pregnant, and her world shifts, she feels it. "I know this isn't ideal and.. I am sorry." she says but Emily remains silent, "Take a few days, think about things. I can only imagine how difficult this must be."

"Yeah," she whispers, looking back at the doctor, "I have— I have to go." she says, standing, her mind scattered as her world flips around her, nothing feeling real.

"Of course," she says, handing her a card, "Please, if you need anything, if you need to discuss options, call me."

"Okay." Emily says, taking the card and with that leaves the room, pushing the piece of paper into her back pocket as she heads down the hall and back to the team. Back to Aaron. Her dying fiancée. The father of her child. The dying father of her child.

A child she isn't even sure she wants. A child they've barley even spoken about.

Four months ago

They're watching Jack and Henry laugh together in the living room, the team scattered around JJ's house when he says it.

"Do you want any?" he asks, placing an arm over her shoulder, lacing his fingers through hers as they reach for them.

"What? Kids?" she questions, turning her head to face him and he nods. "I... I've never really thought about it." she tells him honestly, having pushed the options of kids far from her mind after getting out of Interpol.

"You're great with Jack." he tells her with a smile, her own forming on her face as she looks towards him, his laugh echoing around the room as he runs from Morgan. "I'm not saying you have to decide right now but... we should definitely talk about it."

"Sure." she smiles, trying to ignore the feeling of fear as it creeps into her gut, the thought of bringing a child into the world knowing what their job entails, knowing that her past is brutal and could return at any moment, knowing she has no idea how to be a mother, never really having one herself.

"It's okay if you dont—"

"Can we talk about it later?" she interrupts, smiling sadly as she looks at him.

"Yeah." he tells her, kissing her temple before turning to the happy shouts of Jack, his smile wide and she has to look away, the idea that she might be the reason he doesn't have anymore feeling like a brick in her stomach.

They never do manage to talk about it again, it lingers, whenever he watches her with Jack and she can almost hear the words on the tip of his tongue but he never says them, choosing instead to let her be the one to start the conversation, but she never does, knowing that when she ultimately decides that she can't, that she wont be a mother, she's forcing him into that decision to, one where he never gets to have another child, and the fear that he'll leave her, the option of more children important to him, silences her every time.

The piece of paper that sits in her back pocket, the object another reminder that her whole life is going to change, has her dropping to the floor, her back against the wall as she throws her head forward, crying into her hands, and it dawns on her, that Aaron is dying, that the future she had planned was gone, a mere almost that she will think about for the rest of her life and as she cries, she thinks about all the times she could have spoken to him about their kid and never did, and now has to decide whether to share the news with him that there is a child, their child, his child, but one he will never meet.

That hurts more that the idea of him leaving her ever did.

It's Reid who finds her, she'd been sat there awhile, the cries had turned silent, her head leaning against the wall as she stares at the one opposite, the piece of paper dangling loosely in her hands as well as the necklace, the ring swinging side to side. Tears continue to fall down her face, the waterworks non stop as the information, her new reality, starts to overwhelm her.

"Hey." he says softly, coming up to the side of her. "He's okay." he tells her and she drops her head, a short sob leaving her body. He sits down next to her, looks at her as his head rests on the wall. "We were worried, when you didn't come back."

"Sorry," she says quietly, lifting her head back to the wall as she sighs, not even bothering to wipe the tears that wont stop anyway. "I just... needed a minute."

"Is everything okay?" he asks her and she laughs, because, what a stupid question. "I mean, I know it's not, but—" he says quickly, "What did the doctor say, is what I meant."

She sighs before looking at him, the worry that stares back at her making her smile sadly, and she hands him the paper, turning away, unable to look at the way his eye's widen as he reads it.

"Em.. I—" he stops, shaking his head, this is cruel.

"I don't know what to do." she whispers, wiping her cheeks with both hands as she sighs, "I don't even know if I should tell him."

"I'm sorry." he whispers because its all he can say, there are no words for a situation like this. "I didn't know you guys were trying." he says almost uncomfortably and she chuckles at that while she shakes her head.

"We weren't," she says, "I mean.. we were... but we weren't—"

"I got it." he stops her, a frown on his face as he shakes the mental image from his mind, a smile forming when she laughs. "I don't have an answer, for if you should tell him... I think—" he stops, placing his hand in hers, "I think you need to decide this on your own."

"It feels cruel, to tell him about a child he'll never meet," she says as she takes his hand, "I don't even know if I... I don't know." she sighs sadly.

"Do you want to keep it?" he asks her.

"I don't know." she says again, the three words falling off her tongue more in the last day than she thinks it ever has before. "If he was alive, if he'd be here, then, maybe but..." she tails off, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." he repeats, "for all of it."

"Me too." she says, turning to the sound of footsteps.

"He's asking for you." Morgan tells her, walking over and helping the two of them of the ground, "What's that?" he asks regarding the paper still in Spencer's hand.

"Nothing," he tells him, "Just the test results." he smiles and Morgan accepts it, lacing his hand through his free one; As the three are walking, Emily smiles gratefully at the young genius, taking the paper back slyly and putting it back in her pocket, telling herself she can deal with it later, but she knows if she wants to tell him, it has to be soon.

He smiles when he see's her through the door, a soft, but happy hi on his lips.

"How are you feeling?" she asks him, her own soft smile on her face.

"I'm okay," he tells her, but she can see right through it, the frown lines on his face, the harsh breaths he takes, he's in pain and it kills her. "No one could find you, said you had to...something about a doctor?" his words don't make sense, another hint to her that he's in more pain than he's letting on, but she lets him, able to give him just this one thing. Let him comfort her.

"Just something about the tests," she says, "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" he asks her, worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay," she tells him, "I—" she stops, clenching her jaw as she looks down, refusing to let herself cry in front of him. "I wish I could be in there."

"I know," he replies gently, "me too." There's a sadness in his eye, and it hits her then, that he knows he's dying to, that just as she is feeling their future slip away, so he is. He knows he'll never see his son grow up, never grow old, never meet his grandchildren, and it makes her feel sick, that he's aware of it, that he's grieving for everything he'll lose just as much as they are. And the thought of adding more to that, the thought of telling him that their having a baby just for him to know about another thing he will never meet, never watch grow up, just feels selfish.

"What is it?" he asks her and she snaps her head back up, smiling as she wipes her tears and shakes her head.

"Nothing." she whispers, "I just..."

"Yeah, I know," he whispers back, "I should have listened to you, you are always right after all." he teases, and she laughs.

"You're just now releasing this?" she jokes.

"Hm," he smirks, "I guess I've always—" he's interrupted by a series of harsh coughs, his breaths very few in between as he chokes and she hates that she can't be in there, that she can't rub his back and whisper your okay for just the little bit of comfort that he deserves. He leans back as his catches his breath, a mixture of exhaustion, high doses of morphine and death pulling him down, his eyes closing slightly.

"Get some rest." she tells him, "I'll be right here."

"I love you," he mumbles as he looks at her through thin eyes, his pale skin covered in sweat as he shivers.

"I love you too." she smiles, waiting for him to succumb to sleep before she lets her smile drop and the tears fall, allowing herself to be pulled into familiar arms as they wrap around her.

"I got you," Morgan whispers, holding back his own tears for her, for Hotch, for them. "I got you, princess." he says again, rubbing a hand down her back as she cries..

It happens that day, four hours later.

She isn't even with him, when it begins, she's in the waiting room, staring once again at the piece of paper, her brain working overtime to try and process it, to try and figure out if telling him is selfish and cruel, or if not telling him is selfish and cruel, the argument feeling loud in her head.

It's Morgan who comes to get her, his face full of devastation as she looks up and it makes her heart fall, the paper forgotten and falling to the floor when she stands, before rushing past him, not noticing him go to pick it up.

"Agent Prentiss—" The doctor starts as Emily reaches the room, "You—"

"I need to be in there." she tells her, her heart hammering in her chest, the thought of him dying alone making her want to drop to her knees.

"I'm afraid you can't—" she starts but she wont accept it, already charging past her, and neither the team or the doctors are able to stop her as she barges past them all, working on her need to see him, to tell him, to be there making her stronger than them all combined and she's through the door in less than thirty seconds, the sound of it shutting behind her louder than intended, and everyone jumps.

"She can't be in there—" one starts, already moving to forcibly remove her from the room but Dave steps forward.

"She's already in there, you wont get her out."

"It's against all procedure, she could—"

"She's already in there." he tells them again, "It's too late."

"What are the chances of her getting it? If she stays with him?" JJ asks.

"Ten, maybe fifteen percent." they tell her, "But—"

"She'll sign the forms, say she went in their against orders. Just, let her be with him, don't make her watch him die alone." Penelope says from her sheet on the chairs.

"It gets worse," Morgan says as he walks up to them, passing the paper to JJ as she reaches for it.

"Oh... my god." she sighs sadly, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

"What?" Dave asks, everyone's eyes on the paper.

"She's pregnant." JJ tells them, and the area goes silent as they look towards the room, each one feeling stuck as they watched Emily close the curtains.

He turns to the door when it shuts and his eye's widen when he see's her, his hand already reaching for her on instinct.

"What are you doing in here?" he asks, his voice breathless, "You—"

"Don't worry," she tells him, "You're not radio active." she teases, the white lie feeling like the right decision when he visibly relaxes, reaching out his hand for her again, she takes it with a smile. He moves over, tapping the new space with a puppy dog look and she laughs, rolling her eyes as she sits, before moving herself to lay on her side, his body slotting perfectly in her arms as she runs a hand down his cheek, the other clasped in the one that rests in the middle of them.

"Jack likes you," he tells her, his tone soft, but breathy and harsh, and she closes her eyes, preparing herself for him getting ready to go. "You should stay, in his life. Haley could... find it useful, and he'd like to see you sometimes."

"I will," she tells him, running a hand through his hair, "I promise."

"I'm sorry," he says after a few moments, "for going back into the building, for—"

"Shh," she silences him, shaking her head, "this isn't your fault."

"If I—"

"You saved that little girl, " she tells him, "You did the right thing. It's okay." she whispers, lifting her hand from his to cup his cheek, make her look at him. "I'm proud of you." she smiles, and he laughs, a slight cough following and she runs a thumb over his cheek.

"I really wanted to marry you." he tells her, reaching for the ring around her neck. "I always imagined we would just get home after a tough case, go to city hall..." he smiles, his eye's brightening when he see's hers, the happy laugh that leaves her throat still making his heart flutter, even now. "I was thinking we... would go to Europe for our honeymoon, you'd, take me to all your favourite places..."

"That sounds nice." she whispers, "We would have gone to Paris first." she tells him, "Then Italy... maybe Rome or.. Florence, depending on the time of year."

"Definitely spring." he smirks, their happy laughs making it seem like its pillow talk, like its something they can plan, and not something that went from future to fantasy in less than twenty four hours.

"Spring?" she smiles, "Then Florence," she tells him, running her fingers through his hair as he goes lighter in her arms, his breaths becoming more and more uneven while he places his hand in hers on his cheek, bringing it to his lips that linger for a moment.

She knows it now or never, telling him or remaining quiet, letting them bask in the bubble of what if— but the thought of him never knowing, the idea that if she kept them, she would have to live with the fact she never gave him a chance to know they exist has her stomach knotting, the feeling of regret already to heavy.

"I have to tell you something." she whispers, "I— it seems selfish, to tell you but I—"

"What?" he asks softly, lacing their fingers together on his still beating chest.

She looks at him for a moment, the words unable to come out of her mouth.

"Em.. sweetheart, what is it?" he asks her.

She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she drops it slightly, squeezing his hand before looking at him.

"I'm pregnant." she whispers, so quiet that if the room wasn't as silent as it was, he wouldn't have heard her. "I— Just found out a few hours ago and its.. early, like, three weeks and— I didn't know if I should tell you because it seems so... cruel, because—" she rambles, taking a pause to look at him, "I don't know what to do." she tells him, her voice broken, "about any of this."

He lifts his hand, cupping her cheek softly as he wipes her tears, before placing a soft kiss on her lips, one that he puts all of his feelings into, a fear that it could be his last.

"You do what you think is best." he whispers against her lips, their foreheads resting together, "I'm sorry—" she silences him with another soft, sweet kiss.

"I love you." she whispers, their tears joining as one, "I—"

"I know," he smiles, pulling away from her slowly, resting his head back on the pillow as he looks at her. "I love you too." he tells her, "so much."

He's fading out, she can hear it in his breathing, in the way his eye's are closing more frequently, in the way his muscles feel light against her.

She runs her thumb over his cheek again, a smile on her face as she tangles their bodies together, wanting to remain as close to him as possible for the short time they had left.

"I'm sorry I wont be there, for whatever you decide." he chokes out, his voice rough with less air meeting his lungs, an almost gasp for air in his tone. "I know you never really knew if you wanted it—"

"It's okay." she smiles, nodding her head while she holds her tears back, "I'm glad you kissed me in your office that time." she teases, reminding them both of just how far they had come since that first kiss almost three years ago and his laugh has her smiling, finding some happiness in their last moments.

"Me too," he tells her, "I'm glad you showed up at my apartment the week after to shout at me for it."

"It felt justified at the time," she jokes, pushing some hair from his head as he sweats, when a violent shiver making his way through his body she holds him closer, smiling when their faces line up on the pillow. "It's okay." she nods, her voice delicate as she swallows the lump in her throat.

His breathing shallows out, the shivers stopping as he looks at her.

"Thank you for loving me," she whispers to him, the crack in her voice nothing compared to the one in her chest.

"Thank you for letting me." he smirks, allowing them one more happy laugh before he stops fighting, letting the exhaustion in, letting it take over.

"I love you." she tells him; then he's gone, the last thing he ever hears a declaration of love he'd never been in doubt of.

He's gone before her sobs take over, and in the end she's grateful for that.

-

She doesn't know how long she stays in there, clinging to him as she sobs, unable to accept that he's truly gone, knowing the moment she lets go, the moment she stands and leaves the room, that it's real. That she'll never see him again, never come home and be able to fall easily into his arms on the couch, or smile as she watches him attempt to do a household chore, never hear him laugh at his own jokes or feel his hands in hers, never again feel loved by him, unsure if she would ever feel love again. But she knows she has to, has to leave the room, step back into reality, her new reality, a life without him; She detangles herself from him, looks at him once more placing a kiss on his forehead. She wipes her tears, steps off the bed and heads for the door, hesitating for a moment, letting herself take a breath, letting herself be alone in her grief before she has to take on everyone else's.

As soon as she opens the door, everyone stands, looking at her with pity as she closes it, the click of the door sounding like an ending to a life she thought she would have.

"Em—" JJ starts heading towards her but the woman holds out her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"I have to call Haley." she says in a voice she doesn't even recognise, a voice that's quiet but harsh, almost like she had swallowed razor blades.

"I can do that." Dave says, taking a step towards her, but she shakes her head, stepping away from him.

"No, she—" she stops, inhaling a breath as closes her eyes, leaning her head on the door as dizziness over takes her, feeling too much but nothing at all all at once. "I have to do it." she tells him.

"Emily—" JJ says softly, "really, let them do it, you've been through a lot and—"

"Agent Prentiss," a doctor say's as they come around the corner, "I'm sorry for your loss." he tells her and she just stares at him, "you need to come with me, you needed to be tested for—"

"I have to make a phone call." she says, already trying to walk away but he stops her, a soft hand on her arm and she spins. "What—"

"You really need to have another test done, just to be safe." he tells her, "you can take the call from the room. I understand there may be a few you need to make under the circumstances."

"I—" she starts, before giving up, letting herself be lead by him.

"I'll stay." Morgan says to the team, "Go, see your family, get some air."

"He's really dead..." Garcia whispers.

"Yeah," he sighs, "You'll inform Strauss?" he asks Dave, who just simply nods his head. None of them move, their eye's remaining on the window, the knowledge of what is behind the closed curtains enough to have each one of them nauseous.

She make's the call while she waits for the results, holds back her own sobs as she listen's to Haley's.

"I'd like to help with... planning the funeral?" she asks quietly, "I know I'm—"

"Of course," Emily says, "He's the father of your child. You get a say."

"Thank you." the other woman whispers, "I'm so sorry, Emily."

She inhales, pressing her ring into her hand. "Me too."

The entrance of the doctor has her ending the call.

"You're all clear," she smiles, "I hear you're pregnant." she adds, a sad smile on her face, "I assume congratulations is the wrong word."

"Yeah," she says quietly, still processing that fact, still unsure on what she's going to do and still refusing to think about it. "I'm free to go?"

"Yes," she smiles, "I would like you to come back in six weeks if you decide to keep the baby, just to make sure everything is okay before—"

"Sure," Emily smiles, "Thanks." and she's out of the room.

She excepts to find one or two of her friends stood there, outside the room her dead fiancée lay in until he was cleared for transport, and is shocked to find all five of them.

"Hey," JJ says, smiling at her friend, "Everything okay?"

She simply nods, "I—" she starts but, stops, having no idea what to say, what to do, taken over by a sort of trance, her whole body feeling numb.

"You can stay with me and Will, if you want." JJ offers, "Don't feel like you have to go home until you're ready."

"Thanks," she smiles, "But I just... I need to." she says, nodding her head.

"I'll drive you," Dave tells her, shaking his head when she goes to decline. "You're in no state to drive and even if you were, you don't have a car."

"Okay," she says, noticeably avoiding looking at the door of the room. "Thanks."

It takes them all a few moments, but eventually they make their way from the hospital, each one buried in a mixture of their own heartbreak, and the heartbreak on behalf of Emily.

"Call me if you need anything." JJ tells her, and she nods, before following beside Dave as he heads to the car.

They're riding in silence for almost ten minuets when he speaks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"About what?" she says, closing her eyes as she swallows the bile in her throat.

"Any of it. Aaron, the baby..."

Her eyes snap open, turning her head to face him. "What—"

"You dropped it," he tells her, "The paper. Morgan picked it up."

She doesn't speak, instead turns to look at the road.

"Do you know what you're going to do?"

"No." she says, picking at the skin around her fingers.

"Well, whatever you decide. We're all here for you." he tells her and she gives him a small smile before letting them fall back into silence, quickly wiping a tear that falls down her cheek.

"You didn't have to walk me up." she tells him, unlocking the door.

"Yes I did." he tells her and she rolls her eyes, forcing the door open as she holds her breath, but nothing could have prepared her for it. For the way his cup from that morning was still on the living room table, the newspaper he was reading discarded as though he thought he'd be picking it back up when he got home tonight. Throwing her bag onto the table next to the door she catches sight of his coat, one he'd worn the previous weekend when they went out with Jack. There was a picture of the three of them just on the counter ahead of her and she almost wants to throw it at the wall but instead, heads further into the house, turning to face Dave when she reached the middle of the living room.

"You really don't need to stay," she tells him, "I... want to be alone..."

"Of course," he nods, "If you need anything."

"I'll call you." she finishes with a small smile, and he accepts it, leaving with a smile of his own and once the door shuts, she inhales, forcing herself to walk into the bedroom, her eyes landing on the bed, their bed, his white t-shirt still in a ball on the bed from where he'd thrown it at her that morning after getting back from his run, she can still hear their laughter, as though their happiness haunts the now silent house. Without the energy to even get undressed, she climbs into the bed, the scent of him overclouding her as she lays her head into his pillow, fresh tears rolling down her eyes and she turns, lays on her back with her eyes to the celling and she places her hand on her flat stomach.

"I don't know what to do," she whispers, before letting herself cry once more, accepting her new reality, one where she no longer has him, one where he no longer exists.

His funeral is small, the team, Haley and Jack, his brother and some other people he met during his time at the FBI.

It remains a blur, the service, the burial, the speeches, all of it, similar to the three weeks leaning up to it, it all merges together.

Haley finds her at the wake, hiding in Dave's overly large kitchen picking at a piece of bread, the selection of food making her nauseous.

"Hey," the blonde woman says, apologising when the other startles before turning. "How are you?"

"Getting by," she smiles, placing the plate on the counter, "How are you? How's Jack?"

"I think... he finally accepts it," she says sadly, "He said goodnight to him while looking up at the sky last night, which was..." she trails off, shaking her head as tears well in her eyes. "But we'll get through it. We all will."

Emily can only smile, scared that if she spoke, she'd cry.

"Have you made a decision?" Haley asks quietly, casting an eye to her still flat stomach when Emily frowns.

"What—" she questions, "How do you know?"

"I've been pregnant with a Hotchner baby," she smiles, "I know the signs." she adds and Emily looks down, overwhelmed by a feeling of complete jealousy, can't help the way it rises up in her as she realises Haley got the pregnancy experience she would kill for. One shared with a man she loved. The very same man who should have been here, with her. And Haley realises her mistake the moment her head drops.

"God, Emily, I'm... I'm sorry, that was... I—"

"It's fine." she smiles, looking up again, "But, no, I haven't." she tells her.

"Whatever you decide, I want you to know that.. I want you in Jacks life." she says, "He loves you and..." she stops, "I'd like to be apart of your... their life, should you decide to keep it. For you. For Jack. Aaron isn't here but.. It's still Jack's sibling and they should have a family. You both should." she tells her, smiling at the woman as she looks at her, "No matter what you decide, you're not alone, Emily. You'll always have a place in Jack's life... In our life."

She's silent for a moment, before she reaches for the blondes hand, squeezing it gently, "Thank you." she whispers.

"How far along are you?"

"I don't know, five, maybe six weeks."

"If you need someone to talk to about this, I'm a phone call away."

"I know," she smiles, "Thank you."

The blonde woman walks around, gently pulling her into her arms.

"You're not alone, Emily." she tells her, "And your baby won't be either."

"I don't know what to do." she whispers, and Haley pulls back, looking at her new friend.

"You do what's best for you, what you can handle." she tells her, "But what you have inside you is the last little bit of Aaron we have, and I don't want you to make a rash decision only to regret it later on." she whispers, "You have a few weeks, and I'm here, the team is here, and we will respect whatever decision you make. But were also here to listen, to advice, whatever you need."

"Thank you," Emily whispers, "I— thank you." is all she can say, and Haley smiles, before Jack calls her and she's gone.

She watches Haley and Jack from the corner of the room, wonders if she can do it, be a mother, raise a child, but then Jack smiles at her, a smile that is all Hotchner and the idea that there is one more part of Aaron left here, one last little bit of them, she thinks that maybe she can, maybe this baby is what was going to save her from suffocating in her unbearable grief.

-

nine months later 

She stops the car on the path, taking a deep breath as she looks ahead at the graveyard, reaching for the ring that rests on her chest as she exhales before getting out of the car. She grabs them from the back sheet, shifts them nicely into her arms and walks over slowly, the route to his grave stone now muscle memory, having done it so many times.

“Hey.” she says gently, looking down at the stone, smiling at the fresh flowers that sit there, each selection a different type from a different person. “I know it’s been a few weeks but…” she bends down slowly, shifting her arms slightly. “I was doing a thing.” she smirks, looking at the one month old in her arms.

“She has your eyes,” she says, “your nose to.” she adds, smiling at her daughter as she grabs her hands forward at the grave. “Say hi daddy,” Emily coo’s, another whisper of hi leaving her lips as her daughter babbles.

“I’ll bring her, as much as I can.” she says, “She’ll know you through me, through Haley, I’m sure Jack has a few stories to.” she looks at the stone sadly, “You should have been here,” she whispers, clearing her throat as tears well put in her eyes, smiling when their daughter reaches out to touch the stone, turning to look at her with eyes that make her heart warm, eyes that remind her of Aaron.

you should have been here remains a constant thought throughout every mile stone, forever a space in their life where he should have been. 

A void they never fill. 

fin

[inkykeiji]

you’re all that i need, underneath the tree

characters: dabi, shigaraki tomura

genre: tooth-rotting fluff with a sprinkle of angst

notes: aaah okay! set in the break my bones but act as my spine universe, between part one and part two but after dabi’s apology!! poor dabi gets dragged out with the happy couple to go hunting for the perfect christmas tree :) | title credit: underneath the tree by kelly clarkson

warnings: pining, daddy kink (without the kinkiness), generally toxic relationships

words: 3.3k

synopsis:

And so what if you’re more excited than Tomura is about his agreeing to come, even though it was Tomura who asked for his assistance; so what if it makes his chest swell with that irritatingly tingling sensation, the one that seeps into his veins and shoots through the rest of his body, the one that makes him feel like he’s buzzing. What’s it matter, anyway?

The answer, as far as he’s concerned, is simple.

It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. It never will.

    ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅     

Snow crunches under his heavy boots as he trudges along behind you, staring at the back of your head with a glare so vicious, so ferocious it could melt platinum.

Dabi hates Christmas.

Smoke from a large bonfire, lined by families—good looking couples with tiny carbon copies of themselves, gloved hands tenderly cupping hot chocolate as the children chatter animatedly, little squeals of laughter overlapping the indistinct noise—blows into his face and he chokes on it a bit, the tiny glowing embers it carries with it through the air burning his eyes.

Dabi hates Christmas.

He’s only coming because Tomura’s his fucking boss, he had told you curtly when you swiveled around in the front seat of the Maybach to express your excitement to him, forcing his eyes to stay on the white leather beneath him, unable to bear the way he’s sure your face is falling at his sharp words. He hates Christmas.

But Tomura had snorted a little to himself the moment the words left Dabi’s lips, because God, what a fucking lie. He doesn’t voice the thought, but he doesn’t need to—it’s clear in his ruby eyes as they meet sapphire through the rearview mirror, an amused little smirk present on his scarred lips as he raises an eyebrow in mocking question.

Yeah. Alright, fine. He’s a fucking liar, so what? Yeah, alright, so maybe he’s only here because of you, because he knows that if he had refused, the entire trip would’ve been ruined, and he couldn’t have that on his conscious, couldn’t handle that on his conscious.

It’s his turn to snort at himself, rolling his eyes. What a pathetic excuse for a man. It’s a real funny joke, though; a man who can kill indiscriminately, who can kill delightfully, without batting a fucking eye as bits of skull and brain splatter on the toe of his boot, can’t handle the thought of even one more of your salty tears staining his soul.  

And so what if you’re more excited than Tomura is about his agreeing to come, even though it was Tomura who asked for his assistance; so what if it makes his chest swell with that irritatingly tingling sensation, the one that seeps into his veins and shoots through the rest of his body, the one that makes him feel like he’s buzzing. What’s it matter, anyway?

The answer, as far as he’s concerned, is simple.

It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. It never will.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

This place is way too extravagant for a Christmas Tree farm, Dabi mutters to himself as he trails behind you, seething azure darting around the venue with a deep scowl, taking note of the large stone building that doubles as a gift shop and a café—all baked goods made on the premises and handcrafted with love, of course—with crystal windows that gleam in the weak afternoon sunlight and gentle curls of smoke escaping its chimney. Scattered bonfires blaze among the grounds, each with a group of Christmas tree hunters arranged in a loose circle around it, keeping warm and roasting marshmallows. The sticky sweet scent drifts through the air, Dabi wrinkling his nose as it hits him. That soft clop-clop of horseshoes against matted snow mingles with the sound of classic Christmas music as white and brown horses pull intricate wooden sleighs around the area.

It all makes him fucking sick. God, Dabi hates Christmas.  

“Oh my gosh!” you’re gushing as you cling to Tomura. “Daddy, it’s so pretty,”

The two of you are attracting the gazes of everyone in the immediate vicinity, Dabi hunching in further on himself, trying to bury his face in the neck of his jacket. Really, he should be used to this by now. The pair of you are always a sight to be seen, with you in your little dresses—crushed black velvet this time, with a high neckline and a dainty satin ribbon tied around your ribs in a tiny, neat bow—and black trench coat, hem ending just above your knees; and Tomura in his vibrant red coat, teasingly obscuring his fitted black trousers—tailored specifically for him, of course—and black cashmere turtleneck.

It makes the two of you look like you just stepped out of the Christmas edition of a fucking high fashion catalogue. It makes Dabi feel ratty and underdressed—makes everyone around you feel ratty and underdressed, honestly—in his faded black jeans and big combat boots.

You’ve wandered off a little further ahead now, eyes glittering and bright as they soak everything in, hands clasped adoringly against your chest.

“Daddy!” you gasp suddenly, turning back to look at Tomura, eyes wide and sparkling, catching in the soft yellow glow of nearby Christmas lights. “They’re giving out hot chocolate!”

“Yes, they are, princess,” Tomura smiles, eyes softening as he gazes at you, now halted a few feet ahead of him, his hands outfitted in leather gloves clasped loosely behind his back as he strolls.

“Can I go get some?” you bounce a little on the balls of your feet as he meets you.

“Of course you can, baby,”

“Thanks! I—Do you want some, too?”

“Sure,” Tomura shrugs amicably. “Go wait in line, Daddy will be there in a moment,”

Your smile falls a little—just a hint, really, the corners of your lips twitching, a miniscule action Dabi hates that he notices—as your eyes flit between your Daddy and him, blinking twice, brow wrinkling in the cutest way. Dabi grits his teeth, hands balling into fists as he fights the itch, the urge, to reach out and smooth your skin out again. Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic.

“Um, o-okay,”

Tomura nods encouragingly, then quirks his head towards the ever-growing lineup, as if to say get going! You obey immediately, scampering off with a cute little affirmative yelp. Dabi instantly moves to follow you, is so accustomed to having you glued to his side that watching skip off on your own like that evokes a thick panic in his chest, rising way too quickly in his throat, his mouth opening to call your name, to scold you for running off as he’s done so many times before.

“Wait,” Tomura mutters, a hand curling tightly around Dabi’s bicep, his voice low, dangerous. Brow furrowing, Dabi looks from the hand wrapped around him, to the face of its owner, and back to you again.

“Look at me,” Tomura snaps, Dabi’s tongue running along the front of his teeth as he sucks on them, keeping the insults brewing in his mouth from escaping. Scarlet eyes search his face, slowly, calmly, but every second you’re away from him has Dabi’s heart pounding harder and harder, powerless to stop his eyes from worriedly glancing your way again, only brought back to his boss’ face by a harsh squeeze around his bicep.

Tomura speaks at an unhurried pace, voice even and controlled, annunciating each word with purpose in an effort to beat them into Dabi’s scattered brain.

“Do not upset her today, or I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking nose. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks—I had to pull teeth to get this day off,”

And Dabi hates that, even in the middle of a humiliating, demeaning scolding from his boss, he can’t keep his eyes from darting towards you again, scanning the line you’re currently squished in for any potential threats, instinctual and automatic at this point, a habit. Tomura pulls on his arm a little, directing Dabi’s stare back to him again.

And he knows, goddamn it, he knows how excited you’ve been for this, how important this stupid little Christmas tree hunt is to you, because it’s all you’ve been able to babble about for fucking days now.

“Take whatever the hell you need to, to be fucking nice, you hear me?”

But he nods anyway, carves false derision into his face as his eyebrows furrow and his lips tug down, ripping his arm from Tomura’s grasp. “Yeah. Got it.”

His tone is clipped, and he doesn’t miss the way Tomura’s jaw clenches once with the grinding of his molars, smirking a little as his head tilts, crimson eyes regarding Dabi in a way that makes him feel like shivering, in a way that makes him feel exposed, naked, unprotected.

“You better.”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

“Here, Dabi!”

A jolt runs down his spine at the sound of your voice saying his name, and he turns towards you, brow knitting slightly as he’s met with a paper cup, held out to him between your two mitten-clad hands, your own drink secured precariously between your ribs and the crook of your elbow.

“What’s this?”

And he fucking hates the way his voice trembles, the way that stupid warmth starts blooming in his chest again, the way it does any time you do something small for him, any time you physically prove that you were thinking of him, too. Clearing his throat, he stares at the beverage, pointedly avoiding your eyes.

“I got you one, too,” you explain simply, pushing the streaming drink at him a little more, rich notes of chocolate and cream wafting over him, urging him to retrieve it from your tiny hands. “Take it,”

He has half a mind to lie, to tell you that he hates chocolate even though his mouth is watering, even though he knows you know he loves it, to knock the cup from your hands and watch as the hot liquid eats through the snow like a disease, melting it into nothing.

“Thanks,” he grumbles instead, looking away as he grabs it from your outstretched hands.

Tomura returns a moment later, a large red saw in his clutch. “All ready to go Christmas tree hunting, princess?”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Dabi will always be amazed by your ability to make everyone around you fall absolutely, irrevocably, head over heels in love with you in mere moments, cobalt eyes trained on the old man holding the horses’ reins—a wide, sincere smile stretched across his face, hazel eyes positively gleaming as they gaze down at you from his spot atop the sleigh—asking you if you’d like to feed the animals, your knuckles gently caressing their velvety noses.

Maybe later, Tomura promises you when you glance back at him, whispering “Can I, Daddy?”, reminding you that there’s only a few hours of sunlight left, and if you’re on a mission to find the perfect Christmas tree, you best start soon.  

Sat in between Dabi and yourself in the tiny oak sleigh, Tomura pulls a tattered, folded piece of paper from his pocket, reciting your criteria for The Perfect Christmas Tree.

The Perfect Christmas Tree, the paper states, must encompass the four elements listed below:

It has to be the perfect mixture of forest green with those pretty blue undertones—nothing too blue or powdery!

It has to smell good but not too strong—if it’s too strong, it makes you nauseous

It has to be full—you know, not one of those Charlie Brown trees that are all branches and no body, or one of those thin tall trees—but not too bushy! Not so fat that the needles obscure the lights and ornaments

It has to be perfectly symmetrical and triangular, not lopsided or wonky

Dabi plays stupid, acts as if he doesn’t have that whole list memorized back to front, acts as if he couldn’t regurgitate it in his sleep, like he didn’t sit down with you at the breakfast bar and help you make it, even though it’s in his handwriting.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Every tree is beginning to look the same to him. The three of you have been wandering through these fields for just over an hour and a half now, and Dabi’s positive he’s about to lose all ten of his toes to frostbite.

“We are not leaving until we find the perfect tree, damn it!” Tomura spits, ruby eyes practically glowing as they fly to Dabi’s face.

“Right, right,” Dabi grumbles to himself, nodding his head a little and tucking his gloved hands under his armpits in an attempt to at least save his fingers.

But you do eventually find it, after Dabi complains about dying from hypothermia for the third time; a massive blue spruce that isn’t too blue, that smells good but not too strong, that is full but not bushy, and that tapers off into a perfect triangle—wide at the bottom and coming to a point at the top, perfectly symmetrical.

Tomura glances over his shoulder at you after he’s finished brushing off all of the snow from the tree’s branches, so you can examine it fully. “Well? Is this the one, baby?”

And the way your eyes absolutely dazzle as you gaze at it, a large, brilliant smile splitting your face as the most precious giggles hitch in your throat, head nodding in cute little motions—well, God, that makes it all worth it. In that moment, Dabi’s sure he’d endure this cold a thousand times over, would lose all of his fingers and all of his toes, just to experience that look of pure, innocent happiness on your face once again.

“Yes, Daddy! It’s perfect,”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Even baled, this tree is a giant pain in the ass to get up to the penthouse. It takes the men a solid half hour to figure out a way to fit the tree into the elevator, gleaming droplets of sweat dripping down their faces, tufts of hair clinging to their cheeks.

“Is it still—oh, for fuck’s sake—the perfect tree?” Dabi hisses out as the three of you press yourselves against the monstrous tree, just barely stuffing yourselves into the elevator, an escaped branch digging into his cheek.

“Yes,” you snicker.

“Yes,” Tomura echoes. “Stop being a brat, Dabi,”

“I—Me? Me!” Dabi sputters, at a loss for words. Him, a brat? After everything he just did for you, Tomura’s perfect little princess?

“Yes, you,” you giggle, knocking your shoulder playfully against his bicep. Any rebuttal gets lodged in his throat as he gazes down at you, sapphire eyes softening as they meet yours, shining with mirth, unable to tame the smile tugging at your lips.

He hasn’t seen you this happy in a long time. An ache takes root at the very core of his body, agony radiating throughout his limbs as he’s hit with the dim realization that Tomura’s increasing absence affects you a lot more than he originally thought—that you miss him more than you let on—and the ache in his chest pulses, though he is unable to discern whether it pulses for you, or for him.

It takes nearly another thirty minutes to get the tree safely secured in its stand before slowly cutting through the netted baling and removing it, allowing the tree’s branches to fan out.

Isaac is immediately curious, sitting back on his hind legs and gnawing on one of the branches for a moment before leaping into the tree, lithe body curving through the boughs as he burrows his way to the trunk in the center, digging his little claws into it as you cry out his name in alarm.

“Here, I’ll get him,” Dabi offers, still kneeling on the floor from fastening the screws on the stand.

A little chuckle falls from his lips as he reaches between the branches, gathering the kitten in one hand.

“What do you think you’re doin’ in there, little guy,” he asks as he pulls Isaac from the tree, little paws swiping at the needles, trying to catch them as Dabi drags him out.

“Silly kitty,” you scold as Dabi places him gently on the hardwood. “You aren’t an ornament!”

And Dabi can’t help the genuine laugh that gets caught in his chest, gazing up at you with a fond shake of his head. “He’s gonna be real trouble around this thing, that’s for sure,”

Tomura returns then with three large boxes full of expensive, glittering ornaments in his arms, grumbling about how he had to dig through one of the spare closets to find them and dropping them unceremoniously by the tree, the items delicately clinking together.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on his chest, beginning to restrict his breathing, and Dabi takes this as his cue to depart, because truthfully, the last thing he wants right now is to have to witness you being all mushy and domestic with Tomura. Wordlessly, he heads towards the front door, already craving the soft embrace of his lush bed, eager for the bliss unconsciousness undoubtedly brings with it.

“Dabi?”

Your voice is so small, so fragile, sounds almost hurt, his hand freezing on the handle, shoulders tensing.

“You’re not staying?”

He stares directly ahead, gaze searing into the door as his body goes rigid. Please, he wants to beg, don’t start, not now, not when he knows he won’t be able to resist you.

But his name falls from your lips again, the sound so beautiful, so heartbreaking, and it pulls a deep sigh from his chest. He has no control, not an ounce of authority as his body instinctually turns towards you, the voracious need to comfort you outweighing the full, throbbing pang it inspires.

And, Christ, you look so fucking cute in your little opaque tights with fluffy, woolen socks pulled over them, clinging to your calves with cute little reindeer sown into them, toes pointed inward and overlapping just a little as you stare at him with the sweetest pout.

“Wait,” Tomura smirks, chucking a little. “You were going to leave me alone with this one, when she’s all hopped up on Christmas joy like this?”

Dabi stares at his boss, blinking rapidly, lips parting in anticipation of the words that never come.

“There’s no way I could handle her by myself today,” Tomura continues after a beat, crimson eyes shining in the warm light. “She’s got enough Christmas spirit for all three of us, and then some,”

“Daddy!” the word escapes your lips in a playful little squeal, giggles bubbling up in your throat as Tomura wraps an arm around you, pulling you against his side and nuzzling his nose against your neck. “We could really use your help,” you tell him softly, almost gently, still leaving that option for him to escape, should he choose to do so.

His heart’s thudding against his ribs as he clears his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips, words leaving his mouth sluggishly, yet at an uneven pace, voice quivering ever so slightly.

“I-I guess I could…Stay, to help you guys decorate the tree—for a little. I mean, it is a fucking monster,”

“Ah, yay!” you beam at him, clapping your hands excitedly. “Daddy, now that Dabi’s staying, can we make cookies?”

“Sweets before dinner, princess?”

“Pretty please?” you whimper, gazing up at him with the very definition of puppy-dog eyes. “I promise I’ll eat all my veggies, even the funky looking ones—” Tomura snorts, interrupting you, but you barrel on. “—I will, I swear!”

And, really, Tomura’s powerless to resist you, to deny you, left absolutely defenceless when you’re batting your eyelashes up at him like that, voice syrupy and sweet as little fingers cling to his shirtsleeve. Dabi doesn’t blame him—your pout should be registered as a lethal weapon.

Tomura goes to call for his personal chef, but you cut him off, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head.

“No, not the fancy ones,” you say as if it’s obvious. “I wanna make the store-bought ones! Y’know, the ones in the tube—”

“The ones that you begged our personal grocery shopper to smuggle in for you?” Tomura raises an eyebrow, and you finally have the decency to look sheepish, nodding your head. “Those ones?”

“Yes! Yes, please, those ones,” you respond eagerly, waiting for that final nod from Tomura before scampering off towards the kitchen, Tomura’s voice calling after you as he warns you to be careful with the scissors!

Yeah, alright, Dabi thinks as the smell of cheap sugar cookies washes over him, nimble fingers hanging another crystal bulb on the tree while you scold Tomura for placing too many ornaments of the same colour in one spot, an involuntary grin spreading across his cheeks as that inexplicable warmth blossoms in his chest again. So maybe Christmas isn’t that bad after all.

[kyotarou]

hi hi hi it’s me again !! Not sure how much requests you have, and also thanks for answering my question!! N e waysss, can I request a Kuroo and/or oikawa (if that’s too much tjdjwjdjd) with a popular male reader?? Like the chads lowkey a chick magnet and no one really knew why he turned everyone down until people found out abt their relationship HAHSHSHS (if twos too much just do one honestlyyyyy) also good luck on the writing girl ❤️💕💗💖

kuroo and oikawa with a popular boyfriend (male reader!)

characters: tetsurou kuroo, tooru oikawa

warnings: mild swearing, suggestive content in oikawa’s

a/n: Hiii so glad to see you on my blog again!! This was super fun to write shfjdhf and it’s also my first male reader fic so I hope this turned out ok HAHA. And thank you, you’re too kind <33

--:::------::------------------->◇<--------------------::------:::---

Tetsurou Kuroo

You were the ultimate chick magnet at Nekoma High.

You gained popularity from your looks and flirty personality; not to forget you hung out with the volleyball team which further boosted your popularity.

You and Kuroo were the hot “best friends” of Nekoma.

Girls huddled outside the gym towards the end of practice where you’d wait for Kuroo. 

You’d flirt with some of the girls, which led them to believe you were interested, but you shut them down when they’d ask you out on a date. 

This made you Nekoma’s resident fuckboy, but they couldn’t keep themselves away, thinking one day you’d cave and one lucky girl would become your’s. 

In reality, flirting was a way to cover up your relationship with the volleyball captain.

The two of you agreed to keep it on the down-low until you were ready to reveal it to the public. Though, there were moments when you’d want to kiss your boyfriend in front of all the girls who’d gush and squeal in his presence, who batted their eyes innocently in hopes of gaining the captain’s attention.

It irked Kuroo when you were surrounded by the same fans, some who got too close for comfort. 

When alone, you spent hours in his embrace, soaking all the affection before having to pretend you were no more than friends at school. 

On a particularly hot day, you wore the school’s white button up with an extra button popped open to cool yourself off, red tie loose around your neck and no vest.

The girls went wild.

“(Y/N)-san, do you need water?”

“Here, have mine- I have an extra!”

“No, mine! This is your favorite drink, right?”

From a distance, Kuroo watched with jealousy in his eyes. He kept his feet planted, knowing you could handle it, until a girl looped her fingers around your tie and tugged you close.

He was pissed.

Kuroo marched over and shoved his water bottle into your hand.

“Oh, thank you, Kuroo- hmph!”

He smashed his lips with yours, and you swore he almost knocked a tooth out.

The girls: 👁👄👁

The volleyball team: 👁👄👁

You: 👁💋👁

When he pulled away, your boyfriend had the biggest smirk on his face.

“K-Kuroo-san and (Y/N)-san?”

“Is this a joke?”

Kuroo slipped his arm around your waist and kissed your blushing face.

“Nope, (Y/N)’s mine, and anyone who has a problem has to go through me first. Got it?”

The girls scrambled, leaving you and your boyfriend alone.

He flashed you a devilish smile. “Now, where were we?”

Tooru Oikawa

You were quite popular at Aoba Johsai.

Your quiet demeanor and shyness made all the girls swoon. It was their goal to try to “break you out” while still preserving your “innocence.”

You were certainly not innocent with Oikawa.

Before that, it shocked you to find out Tooru Oikawa, captain of the volleyball team, took an interest in you.

It started with him asking for help on homework, then inviting you to eat lunch with him and Iwa-chan, then dates, then sleepless nights tangled in the sheets.

“Special friends” was how Oikawa described your relationship. He’d say this proudly in front of you and your fangirls who thought it meant nothing more than best friends. 

But you wanted to take it to the next level and, unbeknownst to you, so did he.

Your heart fluttered at every kiss, touch, and when he’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

Oikawa’s bed felt cold and empty without you. He wanted to hold you against him, to cuddle and shower you with all the affection you deserved.

He grew jealous of the girls; you were his baby and his only.

You both kept your feelings to yourselves, afraid of driving the other away.

At school, you received bento boxes, flowers, and love letters on your desk almost every day. You appreciated the sentiment, but your heart belonged to Oikawa.

The girls took your rejections as a challenge. They thought it was your shyness holding you back, but you were simply uninterested.

At lunch, you sat with Oikawa and Iwaizumi in the school courtyard, sharing the bento boxes from that day.

Girls swarmed your table once again. They flirted endlessly, slipping notes into your bag, playing with your hair, hinting they were free that weekend and needed someone to keep them company. 

Flustered, you clenched your fist under the table but couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

That is until one girl poked your shoulder in the exact spot Oikawa left a mark days before and whispered in your ear.

“(Y/N)-san, I’ll make your wildest dreams come true…”

You nearly knocked her over as rage flowed through your veins.

“I-I don’t want you!”

All eyes turned to you.

“I’m- I’m- I’m with Oikawa-san!” You showed your hand entwined with his.

Shocked was an understatement; the captain’s heart had never raced this fast before.

The girls thought it was a joke till you kissed Oikawa hard.

His face turned beet red along with yours.

He recovered quickly and slung his arm over your shoulders.

“That’s right, (Y/N)’s mine. Any complaints?”

The girls shook their heads and scurried off, heartbroken and confused. Once gone, Oikawa pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“Mine, huh? How about we make it official.”

Your eyes lit up with glee. “Y-Yes!”

“I hoped so, little cutie…”

Iwa-chan, who sat and ate from his bento box the whole ordeal, let out a dramatic sigh.

“Fucking finally. He’s had the biggest crush on you for God knows how long, (Y/N).”

“Shut up! He’s right though…”

You kissed him once more. “So have I,” you admitted bashfully.

Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “Then why didn’t you say anything?!”

You turned your gaze to the floor. “I thought I’d scare you off and you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

Oikawa’s face softened with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You could never scare me off, (Y/N). I’ll always be by your side. You can’t keep me away even if you wanted to, especially since I’m your boyfriend now.” 

You spent the rest of the day in pure bliss.

[alltimesos]

Three Thousand- Ashton Irwin

Another fic I found in my drafts ♡ This week is spring break for me so I am hoping to sit down work on a few requests! 🍑

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cursing, brief mentions of unprotected sex, tooth-rotting fluff

“Ashton! Will you come in here for a minute?” you called from the doorway of one of your son’s bedrooms. A few moments later your husband appeared into the room and walked over to you with confusion all over his face.

“What’s going on babes?” he questions, kissing your forehead.

“Will you please tell your firstborn son that fifth grade isn’t scary and he’ll make plenty of friends?” Ashton grins, kneeling in front of the bed to talk to Ethan. You sigh as you walk out of the bedroom, leaning against the wall.

You and Ashton have five kids together. Your eldest son, Ethan is 10, your second-born son, Jaxon is 7, your third-born son, Oliver is 6 and your twin daughters Amelia and Charlotte, are 4. “Mummy! Jaxon stole my toy!” You hear Oliver shout from the room over. You rub your temples before stepping into the boy’s room, to take care of the situation.

+++

The following morning was chaos, to say the least. It was the first day of school and nothing was going right. Your alarm never sounded, meaning you woke up twenty minutes late. You scramble to get out of bed to get dressed and at least attempt to fix your hair.

You jog down the stairs to smell bacon cooking. You furrow your eyebrows as you take the last step, appearing into the kitchen. A huge weight is lifted from your shoulders as you see Ashton standing at the stove, cooking bacon and waffles, not wearing a shirt but your pink apron wrapped around him. You giggle, walking towards Ashton to steal your daily morning kiss. “I didn’t even notice you were missing from the bed,” you tell him against his lips.

“Well, thanks a lot babe,” he replies sarcastically. You giggle once more, wrapping your arms around his neck. He presses his lips against yours slightly pressing you up against the counter.

“Ew!” you hear your small children yell. You push Ashton off of you, turning towards the twins standing in the doorway. “Good morning babies!” you pick both of them up, placing them on each hip. Both of them inherited Ashton’s sandy curls and hazel eyes, which you admired deeply.

“Are you guys excited for your first day of school?!” you ask carrying them upstairs. Charlotte, the older twin, only by a few minutes, nods against your shoulder. “X’cited mummy, I have butterflies in my tummy.” Once you reach the bedroom you place the girls down on their beds. “What about you Miss Amelia?” She was the shyer one of the two, a girl of a few words.

“Nervous, mummy.”

You open the closet door to pick out their outfits for the day. “No need to be nervous, darlings. School is lots of fun and you will make new friends!”

You help both of your daughters get dressed before styling their curly hair. You kiss their cheeks before patting their bum lightly. “Go downstairs, daddy made you breakfast.”

You walk down the hall, knocking on Ethan’s door. A few moments later he opens the door and steps out. “Did you make your bed?” “

Yes, mum,” he groans. You pull him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. “No matter how old you get you will always be my baby. Fifth grade will be awesome!” Much to your surprise, Ethan squeezes you tightly. “I love you, mum.” He lets go of you, grabbing his backpack and going downstairs.

“Hey there rockstar!” you hear Ashton yell at your son. Since Jaxon and Oliver were close in age you allowed them to share a room. The door was wide open already so you walked in, ignoring all of the toys scattered around the room. “Mummy!” Oliver yells running over to you. “Hi, sweetie! Are you almost ready?” Oliver nods, grabbing his backpack. “Daddy made you breakfast!” you barely finished your sentence because Oliver was already running downstairs.

“Is my soon-to-be second grader ready?” Jaxon doesn’t say anything, just pushes past you and walks down the stairs. You stand there confused but don’t say anything.

+++

“All right does everyone have their backpacks and lunches?” Ashton asks before opening the front door. All your kids’ nod, Oliver saying “yep!”

“Okay let me get a picture!” Ashton lines all the kids up by height and snaps a few photos as a group and then individually. “My babies are all grown up.” You laugh, taking Ashton’s hand in yours.

“Okay, let’s go before daddy starts crying.”

The crew gathers in the car with only a slight fuss, the boys arguing who’s going to sit where. You buckle the twins up in their car seats before sliding into the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Let’s rock and roll,” Ashton says pulling out of the driveway. “Gosh, I swear you become cornier by the day,” you joke with him.

The drive to the first stop wasn’t too long. Ethan slipped out of the car after giving you both a kiss on the cheek muttering out a “see you later”. You and Ash call out a “bye have a good day!”

The next two boys get dropped off as well without too much of a hassle. Ashton pulls into a parking space at the last elementary school. The two of you help the girls out of the car, Charlotte grabbing your hand and Amelia grabbing Ashton’s.

The four of you walk into the school, searching for the right classroom. Once you find it, you walk the girls into the semi-quiet room. The teacher walks her way up to the girls, kneeling down. “You must be the Irwin twins! Charlotte and Amelia right?” Charlotte starts babbling her head off while Amelia tucks herself into her daddy’s side.

“I’m Mrs.Penner, I’m very excited to have you guys in class!” Charlotte hugs you and Ashton before grabbing the teacher’s hand. Ashton bends down and picks up his littlest one. “Hey, there pretty girl. Pre-K is gonna be awesome! It’s only for a few hours okay? Mummy and daddy will be here at 12:30 to pick you and Charlotte up!” Amelia nods, snuggling into her dad.

Ashton puts her down after kissing her forehead. She turns to you, hugging your legs mostly. “Bye mummy.” She tells you, turning around to join her sister. “Bye baby.” You whisper back. Ashton wraps his arm around your waist, walking towards the car. Once inside, he high-fives you then pulls you in for a kiss. “We did it, Mrs.Irwin! And we only let out a few tears.”

“Way to go daddy-o!”

When you guys get home you immediately plop down onto the bed with your husband. Ashton sprawls out onto his stomach, one arm around your body. “Hey babe?” he asks. “What’s up?” You answer him, closing your eyes.

“Can we have another kid?”

You lay there for a moment before propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Ashton, we already have five. I don’t think we need any more,” trying to keep your voice calm. He sits up himself as well to look at you.

“But I really want another one. I think it would be great to have a huge family!”

“I don’t know Ash… it just doesn’t seem like a good time to have one.” He nods, crawling on top of you. “But baby, in nine months from now it will be almost June. The kids won’t be in school. It just seems like the perfect time to have one…” You nudge Ashton over so you’re the one on top of him.

“We’ll discuss it later babe. But right now we have three hours to kill before we go pick up the twins.” your voice dropping an octave, sliding your hands up his shirt to feel his abs. Ashton sits up to slide his shirt off and then taking yours off after. His hands rub and down your sides, causing goosebumps to form. “You’re so beautiful babe,” he says honestly. Before having kids you weren’t small and now five kids later, you’re definitely not small. You hadn’t lost all of the baby weight yet from the last pregnancy, due to being a stay-at-home mom.

“Thank you, Ash,” you whisper. He firmly grabs your pudgy waist and flips you onto the bed. He unhooks your bra, setting it aside as well as your panties. He smirks down at you as he tugs his underwear and shorts off. His hand comes to rub circles on your clit, creating a slow movement.

While he thumbs at your sensitive nub he places his head into your neck to suck softly on the exposed flesh. “A-ash,” you moan out. “Feel good darling?” he mumbles against you. “Yes, always so good.” He places a final kiss below your ear before pulling off. You are now dripping wet from him playing with your clit. “Relax baby girl.”

“Fuck..” you whined already needing more of him. Your husband has the power to string you apart like a tangled mess of Christmas lights. You feel Ashton thrust slowly into you, ecstasy building up in your stomach. “What a pretty girl you are,” he compliments you, quickening his pace. “Such a good girl taking me like this.” He leans down to suck on your nipples, the wetness of his tongue sliding around on your skin.

You groan, knowing you’re going to cum any moment now. It had been a while since you and Ash had some intimate time. Any time you were without kids the two of you always caught up with each other or took a nap. It’s always quick handjobs or sloppy blowjobs before the kids wake up.

You still yourself as Ashton slows his pace, dragging out the moment and all you can think about is how sweet his release will be. “Ashton please,” you beg but words are broken. “Please what?” he prompts. “Please go f-faster” you moan and your husband finally picks up his pace. With one hard thrust that has your vision dancing, Ashton is releasing a hot load inside of you, making you cum as well. He pulls out of you, caressing your cheeks, words of praise escaping his lips. He helps you get dressed and he slips his clothes on too. You are lying on your back with Ashton on his side next to you. “My pretty girl,” Ashton whispers and you beam back at him. “I love you.” He kisses your cheek, sliding underneath the covers, catching up on some sleep before you two go pick up the twins.

+++

The first month of school goes by smoothly. It is now a Saturday morning and you have family pictures planned. You usually do it during the fall but decided to do it this year with the weather being warm. Everyone is dressed in matching colors, you and the twins are wearing sundresses, the boys and Ashton wearing colored short-sleeved button-ups and jeans. As you’re putting on your last earring, Ashton sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"My beautiful wife. Still looking good even at thirty.”

You and Ashton had started your family young, with Ethan going to be eleven soon. You turn around and pecked his lips, grabbing your shoes on the way out of the bedroom. “Boys, let’s turn on the video games please.”

“But mummy-” Jaxon starts.

“Boys. The video games will be here when we get back, please listen to your mummy,” Ashton warns them lightly. The boys nod and turn the television and game console off, standing by the front door. Amelia grabs your hand, wanting to be picked up. “You’re so pwetty, mummy.” You smile and kiss her cheek. “You’re so pretty too, miss Amelia.” Ashton locks the front door behind everyone and helps the girls into their car seats. The car ride to the fairgrounds was thankfully short, Oliver becoming somewhat fussy.

“I think it’s really cool we’re doing carnival-themed pictures!” Ashton tells you after getting everyone out of the car.

“Yes! I’m very excited. It was time for a change.”

After meeting up with the photographer, an old friend of yours, she snaps a few photos of the boys and the girls. She takes some of just you and Ashton and then Ashton with the boys. After she snaps a few of you and the twins, she lines you up in front of the Ferris wheel for a family photo.

With everyone in position, she says “ 1, 2, 3, Y/N’s pregnant with twins!” the camera clicks.

Everyone’s heads whip in your direction. “Did she just say you’re pregnant with twins?” Ashton asks you, eyebrows furrowed. You nod excitedly as he picks you up to twirl you around. You can hear the photographer taking pictures of the precious moment. “How long have you known?!” his voice high and squealy.

You giggle as Ashton puts you down, giving you another kiss. “Just a few days. I called Lindy, our photographer, and told her and she came up with this idea!”

Charlotte comes up to you, tugging the end of your dress. “Mummy? What’s going on?”

Ashton smiles brightly and kneels down to meet her at eye level. “You’re going to have either little sisters or brothers, or one of each! Mummy has babies in her tummy!”

Amelia and Charlotte pat at your stomach while the boys surround you with a hug. After taking more photos, you and Ashton treat the kids to ice cream.

They all sit in the booth next to yours and Ashton’s, talking about names for their future siblings. Ashton smiles and leans over to you, wiping the chocolate ice cream off your chin.

“I have some pretty powerful sperm,” he whispers in your ear and plants a kiss on the side of your face.

Your hand meets the bottom of his ice cream cone, the cold cream hitting him in the face. Ethan looks over and says, “look at daddy!” The rest of the table laughs, smearing their own ice cream on their face. You chuckle, watching this perfect family of yours, knowing this is true happiness.

Taglist:

@hoodhoran

@suchalonelysunflower

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 7]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Geralt is in a fix when he is forced to choose between honor and love. What would he do?

Warnings: Attempted non con inappropriate behavior? Also, this chapter is mostly going to be Yennefer and Geralt, and less of the reader, my apologies but this was important from a transition point of view. :)

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

The celebration was over, except for a few who were to stay as guests at Yennefer's mansion, had decided to stay and linger in the hall for a bit longer. You were about to retire for the night, as exhaustion was beginning to claw on you; exhaustion from having done practically nothing all night but to find ways you could escape being in that hall, and attract unwanted attention.

However, it turned out that you did still end up attracting someone's attention, even without doing anything. And no, it wasn't the Witcher.

It was almost midnight, and you were about to make your way back to the chambers you were staying in tonight, having decided to carry your fruit plate to the chambers itself so you could enjoy the night to yourself, when Jaskier startled you, appearing out of the blue, and plomping down on an empty bench in front of you.

"Lords, Jaskier. You scared me."

"Did I? I thought it will take a lot more than that to get you to scare," he chuckled, leaning forward so that his elbows now rested against the table.

"I thought you had company. Why would you want to spend time with a lonely woman like me?" You smiled, giving him a raised eyebrow, in a playful way.

"I do, but it turns out, there's someone that would like to get to know you," Jaskier gave you a goofy, wide toothed smile and you frowned in confusion, leaning closer as you raised an eyebrow.

"Well, do you see that woman over there?" You turned your head in the direction that Jaskier was pointing out, only to see a woman dressed in princely red, beautiful golden locks falling down her back, laughing at something Yennefer said. You then turned back to Jaskier, who sat more comfortably, and looked at you, "that's Queen Bagan of Lyria. Yennefer knew her when she wasn't a queen. Back from when she used to work for Queen Kalis—"

"Get to the point, Jas', I'm tired and I would like to retire to the chambers now," you stood up, blocking Jaskier's view of this Queen as you stepped to the side but Jaskier stood up after you, grabbing your wrist to stop you from abandoning him, "Would you hear me out? I really think Geralt's rubbing off on you. You're changing, [Y/N]."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the sudden overly dramatic outburst of your friend, before your eyes softened and you sighed. You supposed you could listen to what he had to say, although you were sure you would most probably regret it later.

"Fine, Jaskier. What is it? Now that you've compared me to that brooding Witcher, I'm forced to listen to you, just to prove it to you that I'm nothing like him." Jaskier couldn't help but chuckle at your words, but it didn't take him long to donn a look of fake seriousness.

"Now that—" you groaned as Jaskier pointed towards someone again, and you were forced to crane your neck subtly so you could follow who Jaskier was talking about. He was pointing at a young man, sitting in a group of men, drinking ale, "that's her bastard son, Henrik."

"What do I do with all that?" You mumbled, your fingers hooking onto a grape as you aimlessly tossed it into your mouth.

"Well, I've been noticing him and I can see that he cannot keep his eyes off you."

You scoffed, more in frustration than in any other emotion, "Well, Jaskier, if you have been noticing him, I think you should keep him, I'm really not in the mood."

"God, woman, would you listen? Typical Geralt."

You rolled your eyes but chose to stay quiet.

"He is rich, and he is interested—"

"I'm an unwed pregnant woman, Jaskier."

"Well, he doesn't seem to mind—"

"Gods, Jaskier. I'm leaving. Good night." You huffed for one final time, this time in warning and turned away, striding away from where Jaskier sighed and shook his head, bringing his pitcher of ale to his lips as you began climbing up the stairs that led to the chambers for the guests.

You sat down, the dress given to you by the sorceress lay discarded on the floor, but you felt relieved to be out of it. Just dressed in your chemise, you pried off the silk covers off the bed, and slid inside, feeling the richness of the fabric over your skin.

You laid down, on your back, your hand resting on your stomach and your other hand under the back of your head as you closed your eyes, exhaustion taking over your body as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

You didn't know how much time had passed, or how long had you slept for, when you woke up at the middle of the night, your sleep having been disturbed by a knock on your door. You frowned, wiping the base of your eyes as you slid out of bed, and slowly crept to the door.

"Who is it?" You whispered, your voice barely leaving your throat.

There was no response, so you thought that whoever it was had probably left. You cursed under your breath, and began turning away from the door when there was the same knock again.

"Jaskier, I swear to the Gods, why won't you let me sleep?" You pulled open the door, snarling at whoever it was on the other side of the door when your eyes widened and colour drained off your face.

"Henrik?"

The blond haired man smiled, the corner of his lips almost reaching his eyelids when he realized you already knew his name.

"Well, commoners mostly call me Prince Henrik, but I think I can make an exception for you."

"I'm sorry, but I think you are in the wrong chambers, Prince Henrik," you began, but he cut you off once more, rather unceremoniously and began speaking again.

"My apologies, I never properly introduced myself at the celebration tonight, I'm Henrik, Prince of Lyria."

Bastard Prince.

"I—" You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat, as a sudden realization hit you. You were dressed rather inappropriately. You immediately turned away, so you were now turned away from him, "Prince, I would request you to leave."

"You what?" His voice grew louder; almost like a bark.

You began closing the wooden door, when his hand latched to it, stopping you from shutting it any further, the suddenness of his actions causing you to flinch and jump backwards. Instead of leaving, he casually stepped inside.

"I came all the way from Lyria to see if the rumours were true." He smirked, in a disgusting way that almost made your insides churn.

"W-What rumours?"

"Well, the Sorceress and that mutant son of a bitch bought themselves a whore, which they refuse to share," he spat, looking at you with sudden hate filled eyes.

You looked from him to the door, but it was hopeless. You took a step away from him, but he closed that one step distance by taking a step in your direction, until you were trapped, the stone wall behind you and the monster of the Prince in front of you. Geralt's words suddenly rang through your mind; Not all monsters are dangerous, some people are too.

"You're used to the roadside filth, aren't ya? Never experienced anything royal before? Now's your chance."

Henrik's ruby studded hands moved to the base of his robe as he slowly began taking it off, and this gave you a quick second to think, and think you did. Suddenly, your feet darted towards the door, your side brushing roughly against Henrik on your way out, the impact of it causing the man to almost topple off, but he was fast too. By the time you reached the door, and began pulling the door open, he grabbed you by your hair, a loud scream escaping your lips as he tugged on your hair and made you drop down to your knees.

"Ungrateful little bitch! Which Prince in his sane mind would even look at you? You are fucking lucky I was interested," He knelt down next to you, his face threateningly close to yours.

Suddenly, the door splintered into two, the splinters of wood flying across the room, the kick so powerful. Bright, menacing eyes regarded you huddled on the ground like that before the hold on your hair relaxed and you could breathe again. Before that, everything had been a blur, but now you could see clearly. Geralt had somehow kicked open the chamber doors, and now he stood, towering over you, holding Henrik by his throat, his fingers coiled around his neck, his eyes almost dark, venomous and his posture tense.

"I think no one has ever said no to you before, Henrik."

"Let go off me, mutant," Henrik began coughing, as he tried to pry off the Witcher's hand, but of course, he failed.

Just then, Yennefer walked into your chambers, her steps still exuding elegance and poise, although she had just been woken up from a deep slumber. Her eyes fell on you, huddled in a corner, your eyes shrunken back in horror, and then she regarded Geralt, walking up to him and fixing her palm on his shoulder.

"Geralt, what exactly are you doing? Let him go."

Geralt's eyes widened, his head turning towards her in a violent motion.

"Let him go? Are you fucking kidding me?"

She smiled, the smile being a fake one as her fingers began stroking his arm, over the fabric of his shirt. She leaned closer to him, and whispered, in a low voice, "Geralt, my love. Can I talk to you for a second?"

His lips pursed together as he struggled to sustain the rage building up inside him, bit by bit. Instead of loosening the grip on the man's throat, he just squeezed his fingers tighter, for two seconds before throwing him off so he landed right outside your room, his back cracking against the stone flooring. The three of you watched, as he stepped up and cursed under his breath, muttering something on the lines of— you messed with the wrong person and you will pay for it — and scampered off.

Geralt shot Yennefer a glare but he didn't stay where Yennefer was. Instead, he walked up to where you were huddled on the floor, and knelt down in front of you.

"Are you alright?" He whispered in a low, husky voice, without a trace of anger or malice in it, just gentleness.

You nodded, and looked away, fresh tears running down your cheeks as Geralt helped you up to your feet, Yennefer's stone cold stare fixed on the two of you.

"I dont— I was asleep and he just came into my chambers, I didnt—" Your lips trembling, you choking out on the words that ran out of your mouth, Geralt sat you by the edge of your bed.

"It isn't your fault. I should have known —"

Yennefer rolled her eyes, but the two of you paid her no heed, as Geralt moved on to tuck you into the covers again, his hand unknowingly brushing against your tiny bump. You felt his breathing hitch, almost the very instant, and he looked down at you, his eyes seeking your permission, and you nodded. Geralt's massive palm came to rest on your belly, almost covering it entirely, as his fingers brushed against the fabric of your chemise his touch gentle and soothing.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you whispered, as you pulled the covers over your body and Geralt pulled his hand away slowly walking up to a fuming Yennefer, and the two of them walked out and the sorceress chanted some spells to create a barrier over your broken door that wouldn't permit anyone to enter your chamber, especially Geralt.

"Geralt didn't mean it, Queen Bagan," Yennefer arched forward, her elbows grazing against the table the next morning, as she found herself sitting with the Queen of Lyria, and the Prince. She looked from Bagan to Henrik, who was obviously hiding his neck from public view, a scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Yennefer, I didn't come all the way from Lyria, to Redania to have my son be offended by your lover."

Geralt, who had been sitting next to Yennefer, seemingly quiet, let out a low pitched grunt and the bastard Prince lifted his eyes, fixing it on the Witcher and muttered a curse under his breath. Geralt straightened, and almost immediately, the tension was thick on the dinner table once again.

Yennefer's hand latched itself to Geralt's thigh underneath the table as she squeezed it lightly, signalling her lover to let her handle it.

"Queen, Geralt didn't mean to do what he did, the circumstances were not so good when he found your son, in our vessel's bed chambers."

"She is a woman, Yen, not a fucking piece of commodity," Geralt growled.

"She's a whore," Henrik muttered, only to elicit a growl from the Witcher's end once more.

"Well, Yennefer. Lyria has been supportive of you. You are one of the most powerful mages there is, and we have been supportive of you, sheltering you and being allies. Now, you do know what this means. It means that this makes us enemies with Tissaia de Vries, even though we do not like it."

Yennefer sighed, her fingers clasping around the goblet of wine as she pulled it to her lips and took a sip of the sweet liquid, swishing it around inside her mouth before swallowing it. She nodded.

"But now, how do you suppose we continue to support you when my son has been humiliated like this, and for what? A Redanian whore?" The Queen spat, through pursed lips and Geralt's eyes shone, with unrelenting rage.

"Queen, [Y/N] is not just a whore, she is carrying our baby. I am not trying to cover up the actions of my lover—" she turned towards Geralt with a look of disapproval, but before Geralt could retaliate, she had already turned away, "I am just trying to show you that this baby means everything to us."

"I suppose," the Queen nodded feigning a look of understanding as she reached out for her own goblet of wine. She then turned towards Henrik, who leaned closer to his mother as he began whispering something into her ears and she smiled.

"Yennefer. I think we can come up with a truce," Bagan smiled, her glance moving from Yennefer to Geralt, and then back to the sorceress, "Sell her to us. It seems my son has taken a fancy to her. And would like to keep her in his bed." She said, not even trying to mask her shameless forwardness, "Once that mutant child is born, of course. Until then, Henrik would be behaved, I assure you."

Yennefer smiled, the corner of her lips reaching her eyes. She was about to open her mouth, when Geralt intervened, his fist slamming against the table— the impact causing the queen's goblet of wine to spill over.

"She isn't a commodity for sale. And we reject your truce."

"Geralt, we talked about this," Colour drained out of Yennefer's face and she looked from Geralt to the queen, who now sat with her lips pursed together.

"Bagan, I —"

"Yennefer, I've heard enough already."

The Queen stood up, and so did the bastard Prince. She looked down at Yennefer with her malice ridden eyes.

"I would like Tissaia de Vries to align someone to take over your responsibilities in our Kingdom. She could in fact, do it herself."

"Queen—" Yennefer began, but she cut her off again.

"Henrik, get the horses ready. We're leaving. This discussion is over."

Geralt and Yennefer didn't step up as they walked off, sitting together in an uncomfortable silence until the hall was empty. Yennefer then turned towards Geralt, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Why Geralt? Why would you do this to me?"

Geralt frowned, his perfectly aligned eyebrows creasing together as he let out an annoyed groan and stood up, not bothering to even look at her.

"I wouldn't give up someone's honor, just to please you, Yen."

"What about my fucking honor?" She yelled, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, as her lip trembled.

"That—" Geralt mumbled, loud enough for her to hear it, "isn't honor, my love. That is your hunger for ultimate control. But remember one thing, it will help you, Yen. Power gets into your head and once it does, there is no turning back. It destroys you and those around you. And if that is where you are headed, my love, then you won't find me around to catch you when you fall."

He then walked off, and Yennefer just kept staring at him, her eyes almost turned to stone.

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha

Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox or comments. ✨

[sandwichfox]

Can you do a Hc of how the main 6 would react with a child apprentice (like one of the spells goes wrong and the apprentice is transformed temporary to a kid?)

Asra

★ Oh no. He told you that the rosehip had gone bad, remembers explicitly saying “don’t use the rosehip, I’ll bring some from the market later”. Of course, he can’t scold you for it now, since you’re currently sitting on the floor bawling your eyes out. Also, you’re approximately six years old.

★ He’s just coming through the door, but he can already tell what happened. Your knees are scraped and the stool you were sitting on is laying next to you on the floor. It’s likely you fell over when the brew exploded, and you’re now so small, it must’ve felt like a great height. There’s red potion splattered on the walls and ceiling. How much had you used? It’s supposed to only turn a light peach color. 

★ He’s by your side in a second, bags forgotten at the entrance. He closes the door quickly with a wave of his hand and kneels next to you to look at your scraped knees. You’re sniffling now, wiping at your soft cheeks with the back of your hand. “They don’t hurt too much” you hiccup “can you tell me where I am?” Your voice is so high, hilariously polite in tone. You just got scared, he realizes, finding yourself thrown off the stool and all alone in the shop all of a sudden. You’ve stopped crying altogether in favor of looking up at him with big, curious eyes. 

★ “You’re in my shop. I’ll still put some salve on them, don’t get up” he searches the cupboards for the tin, his mind elsewhere, at least he knows what went wrong, though it’ll be a hassle to fix, he starts piling ingredients for the cure in his arms. “What’s this?” You ask from behind him, face press against a jar of lacewings. He scoffs and sets the ingredients on the table. You haven’t changed, then. “Lacewings, I told you not to get up” his tone is amused, he approaches with the salve just as you skip to another corner of the shop. “They don’t hurt. What about those?” He manages to get a hold of your shirt, now a dress on your tiny form, and laughs as he applies the ointment “snail eyes” and your look of disgust makes him burst out laughing. 

★ Asra’s careful not to go into many details of your life, or what happened with the spilled potion. You don’t seem to remember being older and he wants to advert a possible crisis. Instead he answers your incessant questions as honestly and patiently as he can while he works on the cure, and finds that he doesn’t need to entertain you much otherwise. You look delighted when he asks for your help passing him ingredients. Then peeling the physalis enthusiastically when he asks you to. He doesn’t need them for the cure, but you had been putting off the task all week. Asra smirks to himself. 

Nadia

♠ Nadia calls out your name, rushing into the room, brows furrowed with worry. She had been just about to come inside when there was a flash of bright light, a sharp bang, a startled cry, and then a clatter of falling bowls. 

♠︎ “Darling?!” Her voice is tight as she approaches your writhing form, you’re slumped against the bookshelf, seeming to be tangled in a length of fabric. She quickly comes to your aid, peeling the curtain of fabric back from where she assumes your face must be. “I heard a crash and thought-… oh my” In your stead, staring right at her with unabashed wonder, is a child. You, she realizes with dawning dread, you’re the child. 

♠︎ “Who are you?” You breathe, reaching out towards her face and then, seeming to remember yourself, pull back with an embarrassed look. “Are you a princess?” Nadia can’t help her smile. “Countess, actually” Your eyes go impossibly large “oh” you look around “sorry about your bookshelf.”

♠︎ Nadia knows she should have gone to Asra immediately, but aside from your current -ahem- situation, you don’t seem to be in any pain or discomfort. On the contrary, you’re unabashedly lively. And, as she’s come to find out, you’re letting yourself be spoiled, for a change. Look, she was already on her way to the shop, alright? You were the one who pointed out the bright, colorful balloons when the carriage passed by the market.

♠︎ It was worth it, Nadia thinks, when you’re back inside the carriage. She moves the big -shiny green- stuffed beetle (a beetle, what a peculiar child) out of the way so you can rest your head on her arm. You’re sleeping, all tuckered out, you don’t even move when she wipes at your round, sticky cheeks with a wet cloth. “To the shop” she tells the driver, and maybe feels a smidge guilty about wanting you to stay like this a bit longer. She won’t though, it was just a thought. Though she’ll remember your fondness for smoked, salted almonds when you’re back to normal. 

Julian

♦︎ He swears he hadn’t meant to startle you. It’s just, you had been working on that spell for hours now, and he could see you growing increasingly frustrated every time it failed, sparks sputtering and fizzling before going out. He intended to make you take a break, calling to you from the other room and then poking his head in when you didn’t answer. He approached you gently, calling your name again. You didn’t even seem to hear him, tongue between your teeth and gaze severe with concentration. Julian sighed and tapped your shoulder.

♦︎ You jump, flailing just the slightest bit, but it’s enough. In a moment the sparks between your hands glow green then blue then white. He barely has time to gasp before he’s being thrown back, ears popping with sudden, suffocating pressure. And then it’s gone. Nothing more than a ringing in Julian’s ears and an upset inkwell left as evidence of the sudden explosion of raw power. 

♦︎ Julian rubs at the back of his head where it hurts. Then spots the pile of clothes on the floor, the very ones you were wearing. He’s rushing to you so fast that he has to blink to clear the spots from his vision. “Are you alright?! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I-“ he’s cut off by a long, drawn out groan from you, surprisingly high-pitched. And then he realizes you’re… you’re… -huh- the wrong size. 

♦︎ You look at him and shriek, startling him into a yelp, “oh! I won’t hurt you, I’m not a criminal, or… anything like that” even as a child (a child! he’s trying not to freak out) the expression on your face makes his stomach clench “I promise, you’re safe” you look sideways at him, unconvinced “I’m a doctor, actually. So, well quite the opposite of a criminal then, don’t you think? I heal people. Or, well, try to“ If anything, the already scared look on your face turns worse, mouth turning down at the corners into a terrified scowl. Oh no. 

♦�� Well, he certainly can’t fix this on his own. Especially not with you keeping a very careful distance, looking at his hands with sharp suspicion, as if you expected him to be carrying a giant secret syringe that he just hadn’t revealed yet. Besides, this has to do with magic, so he wouldn’t be able to help, even supposing you’d let him. So here he is, shifting nervously after having knocked at the shop’s door. He looks behind him to check that you’re still there, only for you to squeak and hide back behind the lamppost, not hidden at all. Julian sighs. 

Muriel 

♣ Muriel knows you’re at the clearing, you’ve come more and more often to practice spells (the shop was too small and you had broken one too many jars). He can hear you shifting and muttering incantations, even through the trees. He comes into the clearing just as something goes wrong, the light between your palms glows brightly and then seems to be absorbed into your own body, pulsing under your skin once before throwing you back. 

♣︎ Muriel doesn’t even think, just throws himself between you and the trees before you can hit them, landing on his chest instead with a small oof. You look up to him, surprised. “Muriel! Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to happen, heh, but thank- oh!” Suddenly you shout, doubling over in pain and clutching at your own skin as you… shrink?

♣︎ He grabs you tighter, terror gripping him tightly as you writhe in his arms. “What’s wrong?” He asks, panic speeding up his heartbeat “what’s wrong? What hurts?” You stop suddenly, turning to look at him with confusion on your face. Your small face. Your round, child face. “Nothing hurts” you tell him, puzzled. Muriel drops you. 

♣ Strangely, you seem to trust him immediately, uncaring of his towering height or scowling face. You’re holding his hand and skipping by his side on the way to the shop like nothing’s the matter. He tries to soften his expression when he turns down to answer a question or coax you towards a less crowded path. You reward him with a small smile, it’s the same one he knows, but it’s missing a front tooth. 

♣ After a few minutes of silent walking Muriel notices you glancing up at him every few seconds, shy blush on your face, mouth open as if to ask a question, then turning forward again. “What is it?” he asks after the fifth time this happens. You start, looking down again. “You’re very tall” you mumble. Muriel’s cheeks turn pink. “Yes” he says simply. “Oh” you pause, “can I-“ you look down again “I- maybe- I bet you can see everything.” Muriel sighs and picks you up to place you on his shoulders. He can’t help the small grin at your delighted squeal. 

Portia

♥︎ “Helloooo?!” Portia looks up from her chopping board at the call, halfway through slicing the strawberries for dessert. You should be coming for dinner, but she remembers you were practicing some spell or another near the fountain, you shouldn’t arrive until much later. She furrows her eyebrows and walks over to the window. A small figure comes stumbling into her garden and then promptly gets their foot snagged by a graspgourd. Portia wipes her hands on a washcloth and hurries outside. 

♥︎ “Are you alright?” She asks gently. The child looks up and Oh, oh no. As soon as you see her you lower lip wobbles, but you bite down on it to keep from crying. “I woke up in the forest, I walked all over but I think I’m lost. Do you know where I am, miss?” She kneels down at your side to untangle the vine from your ankle, brushing gravel from your scraped knees “Oh, just Portia is fine, you’re actually not in the forest at all” she smiles kindly, “you’re in the palace gardens, specifically my own little patch. Would you like to come inside while we figure something out?” Her eyes twinkle with amusement at your look of wonder, seemingly forgetting all about the fall as you get up. “Gardens?! But they’re so big!” She extends her hand and you take it, following her inside her cottage. 

♥︎ She’s curious about what you remember, and about how you were as a child. She’s told you countless stories about her childhood in Nevivon, but you obviously can’t do the same, considering your lack of memories. She tries not to pry too much though, it’s difficult, considering how trusting you are. It honestly worries her a bit, how easily you opened up to her, what would have happened had you found someone else instead of her? No use dwelling on it though, and she wants to think it was just her amazing personality that made you trust her so easily. 

♥︎ “Are you hungry?” She asks, she notices you clutching at your rumbling stomach after finishing a particularly dramatic story, you remind her a bit of Ilya, when he was a young boy. You look up in surprise and she giggles. “Let’s see what we can find in the pantry, huh?” Should she call someone at the palace? No, what would they be able to do? Hopefully this is only temporary, but she doesn’t want to assume it will go away on its own. “Thanks, miss Portia” you say as she hands you a plate with snacks, she has given up on correcting you. 

♥︎ She knows a bit of magic, but not enough to reverse something like this. Perhaps she should call Asra, that seems like the safest bet. She can’t stop looking at you. You’re sitting at her table, nibbling at a slice of cornbread and turning a jar of jam this way and that for inspection as you eat, your legs swinging happily under the table. You’re adorable. “Miss Portia?” You ask around a mouthful of bread “when is your cat coming back?” She had sent Pepi to go get Asra while she kept an eye on you. She’s trying not to think too much about the current situation, there’ll be time to freak out after you’re back to normal. Hopefully Asra will be able to do something. Portia hums. “It shouldn’t take long.”

Lucio

▲”Can’t you go any faster?” Lucio grumps. You look up from his metal arm, incredulous. “Listen, I’m the one that’s doing you a favor here. And maybe you’re not aware that I could charm it into slapping you in the face, if you keep on like that” He turns red. “Right, sorry.” he says sheepishly, then keeps quiet for maybe a few precious seconds “but it’s taking so loooong.” “Lucio-” you start, then take a deep, calming breath. “Maybe you should try fixing an alchemical arm, infused with unfamiliar magic, see if perhaps you do any better.” you mutter, “keep still.” He twitches his finger, just to spite you. 

▲”Ugh!” You shriek, magic glowing brighter in your hands as you jump “you’re such a child!” The glowing red behind the plates of his arms sparks with a pop, blinding him. “Ow” Lucio protests, blinking furiously, he opens his eyes and turns to you. But… you’re not there. He swivels his head around for a second before he spots you, getting up from a pile of fabric and dusting yourself off casually, lifting the too-big strap of your gown back onto your shoulder with a dignified swipe of your much-smaller-than-before hand. 

▲ Air escapes him in a -very dignified and not at all shrill- scream. You trip back over the hem of your dress when you take an alarmed step back, just as the guards burst into the room. “Send for Asra!” He shouts. They don’t even say anything, just take a look at his face and step right back out, slamming the heavy wooden door and plunging the room back into silence. “Who’s Asra?” You demand, gathering up your skirt until the fabric is bunched up in your arms. You approach Lucio cautiously, seeming to size him up “and who are you?” Lucio drops his head into his hands, of course you wouldn’t remember anything. 

▲ Asra arrives maybe an hour later, interrupting your discussion. “Well?...” comes a high, inquisitive voice. “Well what?” Lucio sounds tired. Maybe this is not as urgent as the guards made it seem. “You say you’re the count, where’s your throne, then?” Lucio blinks “We’ll of course I have a throne, it’s just not he- Asra!” He doesn’t think Lucio has ever looked happy to see him until this very moment, his very gaze seems to be pleading for help. Asra looks at you, sighs “I know how to fix it, but it’ll take a while, I trust you can care for my small apprentice while I work?”

▲ “Asra” he whines “I can’t deal with this, I don’t know how to care for a child” Lucio mutters miserably, you shoot up immediately “I’m not a child!” he looks up at you and waves a vague hand in your direction “you’re like, five”. “I’m ten” you say haughtily, looking down your nose at him “and you’re old.” You add, for good measure. Lucio lets out an indignant squawk. Asra laughs and laughs.

-

Consider, mayhaps, leaving feedback?

[agent-ccarter]

they don’t know about us | spencer reid

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Warning: mentions of drugs, ANGST, SOFT!Spencer, lol this is like tooth rotting stuff

A/N lemme just preface with the fact I’m not a doctor so know nothing about sedatives and I feel like this is probs out of character for Spencer but I don’t care

*****

Your first encounter with Spencer’s work colleagues came at your own job. It wasn’t planned, just Spencer happened to forget that you’d told him all the others were out at a conference and you were taking the lead in the morgue. 

You could hear him down the hallway, his facts echoing down the empty hallway. The silence was strangely comforting, this floor one of the only in the hospital that offered solace from the craziness of crying patients and loud machines. The only downside of the job was just that; your patients couldn’t tell you anything, you had to examine anything and everything for yourself. 

Standing over the body on the table, you beckoned in the men when they knocked loudly against the glass.

“Come in.” The door swung open, a tall man entering before Spencer, “Hi, I’m Y/N.” You stuck out your hand before pulling it back swiftly, apologising for offering a handshake with a glove covered in bodily fluids.

“I’m SSA Morgan, this is Dr Reid,” Derek smiled, trying to ignore your slip up before shaking your now clean hand, “Pleasure.” 

You nodded back, looking behind him at your boyfriend who was suddenly very interested in his thumbs.

“He isn’t a people person,” Derek rolled his eyes at Spencer. You sent back a small smile and a nod, ignoring the irony that your ‘not-a-people-person boyfriend’ was your favourite person. You knew that Spencer wanted to protect you from his job and you were pretty sure the team knew nothing about you, but you were shocked at him blatantly ignoring you. Swallowing down your pride, you turned back to your work.

“There wasn’t anything too unusual, except we did find these,” you pointed out the tiny holes littered around the girls arms, “and the level of lorazepam in her system was off the charts.”

Both you and Derek didn’t speak, quietly expecting a fact from Spencer.

“She was being sedated?” Derek asked.

“And I hate to speculate, but I can’t think of any way someone could get their hands on that quantity of sedative without having some kind of link to the medical field.” You offered, and Derek looked up from the body.

“They could be a doctor,” he said, looking like a kid on Christmas, “You should consider a career change. Thanks for your help, let’s go kid.” He smiled at you before patting Spencer on the shoulder. He left, and Spencer followed, but not before sending an apologetic glare at you. One you didn’t notice as you angrily slammed your tools into the metal dish, back to him.

***

After the events of that day, your relationship was somewhat strained. You still loved eachother, of course, but you couldn’t be happy knowing he wanted to keep you away from the people who were basically his family. So, in an attempt to rectify this, he invited you to a meal and game night with the team. 

Rossi’s house was huge, and you felt a little silly bringing the somewhat-cheap bottle of whiskey as a peace offering. 

“Maybe I should just leave the whiskey, Spence.” You held the cold bottle on top of your thigh in an attempt to stop it jittering. Spencer laughed, replacing the bottle with his hand.

“He’ll love it, I promise.”

“Stop laughing at me.” He looked over at you once more, laughing again, resulting you in swatting his hand from your leg. 

“It’s just cute that you’re worried about them, they’re going to love you,” he took ahold of your hand this time, carefully running his thumb over your knuckles, “you don’t have anything to worry about, I promise.” You could swear he said that with a slight grimace.

He was right, thankfully, about the whiskey and the team, they were great. Rossi even cracked open the drink and sipped it throughout the night. 

“I appreciate someone who knows their alcohol,” he said, waving it towards you as you returned from the kitchen with another drink for yourself and Spencer, the bottle of wine and straw tucked under your arm for Emily, earning a confession of love as you handed it to her. You didn’t have the heart to tell Rossi you just picked one that looked nice on the shelf. You put Spencers down in front of him, but he didn’t acknowledge you as he engaged in a rather intense conversation with Derek.

You grabbed his hand in yours to rub it in a similar way to how he did before, but he suddenly needed his hands to argue his point. You looked back at the table, picking up your cards ready for poker to start, but not before seeing an almost pitiful smile from Garcia. 

Trying to get his attention all night proved unsuccessful, the only time he even looked over at you being to count your cards. The rest of the team kept you involved in the fun, but as soon as the game concluded you excused yourself to use the bathroom. 

The hallways felt like a labyrinth, the only noises being your incredibly heavy breathing and Garcia scolding Spencer on his behaviour outside. As soon as you found the bathroom, you slammed the door behind you and walked to the sink, holding the porcelain with such power you were surprised it didn’t break.

The mirror provided some level of calm, forcing you to breath as you dabbed at your face to stop the black-tinted tears ruining your makeup. You wiped the red lipstick from your lips too, it staining your teeth making you seethe even more. 

A quiet knock from the door broke you away. You presumed it was Spencer, guessing that anyone else would announce their presence first. He pushed open the door with a click and walked in, seemingly unsurprised to see you in this state.

The pair of you stood their in that uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, letting Spencer bask in the pain of seeing the love of his life crying because of him.

“Shut the door.” You almost commanded, and he did so swiftly. You turned back to the mirror, wiping at your face once more, ceasing as you were angrily unable to wipe away the black that stained your skin.

“Are you embarrassed by me?” You finally whispered, breaking the silence. He almost scoffed, more out of shock than arrogance.

“Of course not, Y/N.” He began to step towards you, desperately wanting to grab you arm and pull you in and to smother the upset away.

“Don’t,” you held out your arm as you looked down at the sink once more, “you’ve barely spoken two words to me since we got here. The team you didn’t want to meet have included me more than you have, so it must be something! Your embarrassed or ashamed or something.”

“I could never be ashamed of you, Y/N. I adore you.”

“Then show it! I can’t just be your girlfriend when it’s convienient for you.”

He put your handbag bag atop the toilet cistern, letting the metal echo as it tapped against the porcelain.

“I never really had a family, you know that. These people are my family. I was afraid. I was afraid you wouldn’t like them, or they wouldn’t like you, which is stupid because how couldn’t they. I love them, almost as much as I love you. I was scared it wouldn’t work, they’d be so happy for me and then I’d jinx it and it would fall apart, or even worse I’d have to choose between you. I could never do that.”

“I would never make you choose, Spence.”

“I know, and that’s what makes it ridiculous. I was irrational and nothing I’ve said excuses my behaviour and I’m sorry. I love you, Y/N. So much that i didn’t know what to do. I acted like a dick.”

“You’re not a dick.”

“I made you cry, didn’t I?” You smiled slightly.

“I love you too.”

He grabbed your hand, as if offering you a chance to pull away if you didn’t want him to touch you. When you didn’t resist, he pulled you forwards, hugging you and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Sit.” You obliged, mostly because you wanted to see what he’d do next. Grabbing your purse from behind you, he opened it to take out the tiny packet of makeup wipes you always carry.

He wiped lightly at your cheek, before kissing it gently.

I

He wiped at the other. Kiss.

Love

He gently wiped at your lips. Kiss.

You

You ran your fingers through his thick locks of curly hair, before leaning your forehead against his and basking in the contact. He traced his fingers over you thigh, writing the words once more.

I love you.

You lifted your lips and pressed them against his head.

“I could never, ever, be ashamed of you.”

******

A/N if I can say this myself it’s CUTE I had so much fun writing this soft!spencer. So cute.

Requests are open lovelies!

[luvrenjun00]

HYUCK IS ALWAYS RIGHT !

boss!mark x secretary!reader

tooth-rotting fluff

you had a crush on your boss.

it was super silly but could you resist it when he looked like that every morning

you would probably sell your soul to see him in his velvet blue suit with slicked back hair every day

it was just a crush, a workplace one too, which everyone had at your age

correction, you didn’t work there, you were an intern at 18 years old

in the biggest firm in the city

neo corp.

you can still remember how much your hands shook when you passed the interview

your first instinct was to tell your mum and you guys partied like there was no tomorrow

you did not expect to be the secretary of a 21 year old hot asian man but were you complaining? nah.

his name was lee minhyung, but he preferred to be called mark

practically every woman in the company was head over h e e l s for him, but he was indifferent

he was used to the attention by now

you definitely didn’t have a chance with him but you didn’t let that bother you

watching him from afar rush to his office, you panicked

he was never this late

is he okay?

stumbling towards his office, you knocked a few times before falling in

shocked would be an understatement

there was a disheveled mark face-first melting into his desk

cheeks red, he looked up and rolled his eyes

“knock next time,”

adjusting your blouse, you nodded

“are you okay?”

“yeah, something came up, can you get me a coffee?”

“sure sir.”

walking down the street, you thought to yourself, what on earth happened to him at 8 am in the morning?

you’d never know

or so you thought

a few weeks later, you were attempting to clear out mark’s schedule when you stumbled upon the most bizarre thing ever

he had put “NATIVITY <3” on the date which was meant to have the biggest shareholder meet

confused, you questioned whether he had younger siblings

but you didn’t want to bother him so you just stuck the shareholder meet underneath the memo of the nativity

“y/n, you didn’t tell me the shareholder meet was on the 18th!”

of course you should have told him.

now, you had a flustered and rather cute doe-eyed mark staring up at you in dismay

“i realised you had a nativity that day but i didn’t want to bother you?”

“you need to tell me these things, they’re so important, fuck,”

that was the first time you had ever heard him swear

mark lee, the angel, the good christian boy, swore.

stifling a laugh, you apologised and left his office

the last thing you expected was for you to roll into work the next morning, strapped with his coffee in one hand and woah- there was a baby

a literal spawn of satan

sat in mark’s lap.

honestly, you should have noticed the signs earlier

“how many times have i told you to knock?” he whisper-shouted, not wanting to scare the toddler running around his clean office

you giggled and mumbled a ‘sorry’ before asking

“whose is that?”

“apppppaaa, can i eat this?”

“no hyuck, you can’t eat my pens, come back here baby,”

it was amusing to say the least to watch dad mark, you figured, run around his office like a headless chicken

his son, hyuck?, was beautiful

hyuck has a soft heart-shaped face with pink pouty lips and chubby cheeks

his hair was similar to his fathers when it wasn’t straightened, a brown wavy mop on his head

fuck, you were soft for his sparkly eyes, he was adorable

“he’s, he’s yours??”

“uh, yeah, my ex’s actually but she left him with me- hyuck don’t bite my table!”

mark was practically panting by the time he picked up the little guy from his bear hoodie and sat him on one thigh

“i’m never going to get work done now,”

mark had the audacity to p o u t

fucking pout

your heart had melted.

feeling helpless, you offered to keep hyuck busy throughout the day

you claimed to be good with kids, a big fat white lie, and wanted to help mark out

immediately, his eyes lit up and he asked a small “really?” as if you had just offered to explain the meaning of life

you fixed your skirt before nodding and waving at the baby on mark’s leg who was now facing you

hyuck smiled, displaying his tiny teeth, and attempted to run off his father’s lap

“appa, is this the pretty girl you always talk about to uncle jeno?”

hyuck’s question was innocent, chubby finger pointing at you

mark went red before mumbling a little ‘shut it hyuck,’

“don’t mind donghyuck, he makes things up, the mind of a three-year-old is very creative, trust me,” mark flailed his hands, letting donghyuck waddle towards you

“appa, she is your sectary right? the one you want to take-“

“lee donghyuck! if you don’t stop talking right now, i will confiscate your power ranger figurines for a week!”

mark glared at the little boy sternly and all you could do is laugh at how donghyuck couldn’t pronounce the word secretary

you promised mark that everything was alright and you left to take hyuck on a little tour

he enjoyed the fish tanks the most, little head peering up and intently staring at the fishes

he decided to name one charizard as it was red

you nodded in response, steering him away from the fish in hopes of finding him some lunch

after hyuck practically begged you, you settled for buying a few timbits

mark would probably be appalled but he didn’t have to know

hyuckie ended up getting chocolate all over his mouth and you had to take him to the bathroom to clean up

after a rather grulling day of managing the toddler, you returned to mark’s office

it was only 4 pm and you knew mark wouldn’t get off this early but taking care of a toddler was draining

you found mark with his head against a pile of books on his messy desk

the poor boy was asleep, mouth agape and hair sticking out everywhere

you patted him gently in hope of waking him up and he shot up faster than lightning

the joy in his eyes the moment he saw donghyuck made you fall for him just a little bit more

hyuckie rushed up to his father as fast as his little legs could carry him and mark picked him up and span him around

mark covered hyuck with kisses and you were s l i g h t y jealous at the sight

you stood back, feeling slightly out of place before mark thanked you

he ran his hand through his messy hair and sighed

you couldn’t help but inquire about what hyuck was babbling about earlier

“it was- it was nothing,”

mark looked so shy it hurt

“appa wants to take you on a date!”

you laughed, looking at mark expectedly but he was too busy darting his eyes around the room

“i like you too, you know,”

“what-“

he looked at you like you were an alien, mouth parted and eyes wider than ever before

“mark, i mean sir-“

“mark’s fine,”

“mark, you’re the cutest person i’ve ever met, i would be crazy to pass up on the opportunity,”

there was a silence between you

“does this mean you’re my mum now-“

“hyuck!”

maybe things would work out for you ♡