#I knew what was going to happen but I didn’t expect it to be this taxing on me

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green : Part 23

The cheerful bell rang a familiar chime as Damian opened the door to his favorite animal shelter. The scent of fur, pet food, and antiseptic was as comforting as it was potent. Damian watched Danny closely out of the corner of his eye. The other boy’s nose wrinkled, but he looked around the front room curiously.

“Damian! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Ms. Lacey said as she popped out of the back room, summoned by the chime.

‘Ms. Lacey’ was their compromise. Damian had refused to simply refer to the woman by her first name and in turn, Ms. Lacey refused to give Damian her last name. It had been supremely frustrating. Now it was almost akin to game or inside joke between them. It was nice.

She brushed the riot of curls (blue this month) out of her face and looked at the group that had entered the shelter curiously.

Damian knew they were a bit of a sight. Danny was still swathed in a number of bandages and, now out of the apartment, looked a moment away from running. Because of that, Jason basically loomed over Danny and Damian as if he could keep the world at bay.

(He might just be able to manage to.)

“No. It is not one of my normal service days, however, I am not here to volunteer,” Damian said, his tone almost apologetic. “I have brought Daniel—”

“Danny.”

“—to see if there is a pet that would suit him.”

“Hi, Danny,” Ms. Lacey said and leaned forward onto the counter.

Danny shied back into Jason’s space. He clutched a little tighter at the backpack that his bear was safely stashed in. Cass had thought it might be good for Danny to be able to take the bear discreetly with him as he seemed rather attached to it. Considering the tracker in the bear, everyone quickly helped make that happen.

“Hi Lacey,” Danny replied softly.

Ms. Lacey leaned back, her smiled now twinged with just a little bit of sadness. Damian had seen her look abused animals the same way. “Do you know what type of animal you might be interested in, Danny?”

“I was thinking a cat or dog?” The words were more a question than a statement. “Someone that can sit with me.”

“That’s a good start. That could also be rabbits, but if they’re going to be living at the manor,” Ms. Lacey glanced briefly at Damian for a confirming nod, “then a rabbit might not work the best. A cat has the advantage that it would be indoors and doesn’t need as much effort depending on the animal’s age. But you might want a dog to walk! Why don’t we get you into the kitten room to start, because that’s a great time no matter what.”

When Danny glanced from Ms. Lacey to Damian to Todd, Todd gave a little nod. Danny tightened the hold on his backpack, took a breath, and gave a little nod.

-

“Okay, this is pretty great,” Danny said as he pried a tiny orange and white ball of fluff off his shoulder and set the little guy back down with his siblings.

Immediately the kitten was pounced by the black kitten and had his ears chewed on.

“Kittens might be too much energy for me though,” Danny admitted. He had a feeling he’d never have the type of energy he used to again. He wasn’t sure if that was from his death or… everything else.

“They are a great deal of work,” Damian agreed. His own lap was full of peacefully sleeping kittens.

Danny was a little jealous. He caught the grey kitten who looked more like a a dust bunny as it romped past.

“What if I don’t find a pet today?”

“Then we will go somewhere else. This is not the only shelter in the city,” Damian said.

The straightforward certainty that Damian had about the world was something Danny had come to appreciate over the last several days of knowing Damian. The fear was still there. Danny didn’t know if it would ever go away, but he could ignore it now. Sometimes it was hardly even background noise.

Danny was used to having a brain full of static.

“It will be fine, Brother,” Damian said when Danny didn’t respond.

Brother. Damian insisted on using that instead of his name, but Danny figure that was because Damian didn’t have a last name to call him like all the others. Bruce was simply ‘Father’ too. Maybe it was about Wayne then? But Danny wasn’t Daniel Wayne. He was just Danny… no one.

“Yeah,” Danny made himself respond so that Damian didn’t get worried. For all that Damian tried to be aloof he really was worse than even Dick.

“If a kitten would be too much, what do you think of an adult cat?”

Danny looked down at the little slip of a kitten in his hands. It was so tiny. “I think let’s start with dogs. Something not so small and… breakable.”

Damian nodded and started to divest himself of cats. “I have heard the vets ‘joke’ that kittens will heal from anything. One could toss a kitten and its missing foot in a cage and it would reattach. I suggest we do not try it.”

“No,” Danny said in horror. “We are very much not trying that, what the hell.”

“What is what I said.” Despite having to deal with many more kittens, Damian was up first and offering Danny his hand. “Come, Brother.”

Danny took the hand, stood, and still had one last kitten to pull off of of his jeans where it clung with this sharp, sharp claws.

---

AN: I was able to give this a read through finally, so have the first bit of this chapter! Because who doesn't want Danny and Damian surrounded by adorable kittens?

[cuntdevil]

★ PRETTY BROWN EYES !

he hoped to swoon you with his gorgeous brown eyes and bright personality ─── never mind the fact that he has a girlfriend.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, takuma ino, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 5,017 words !

╰┈➤ takuma ino & shy student!reader, college!au, infidelity, virgin!reader, yapper!takuma ino, corruption kink, slight public groping, car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pussyjob, creampie, momentary cockwarming, etc.

( anonymous said . . . ) okay, so i was wondering if you could write for takuma ino. the idea was that reader was a shy new student and he immediately becomes obsessed and wants to be with her, but he's currently in a relationship . . . smut with corruption, loss of virginity trope, and some angst . . .

╰┈➤ author's response: i've never written for takuma before so please don't shoot me if you don't feel like the characterization is correct. i was trying to go with possessive while trying to feign like he was a good guy. hopefully you like it because it was a lot of fun writing this fic!

Men are such easy creatures that it’s no wonder that they’re closely compared to animals when it comes to their instincts. A woman can be nice to them once and they’ll take it as a sign that they’re flirting when it can be the very opposite. Takuma always thought of himself as a better man, but he’s proven wrong when you call for attention. Your shadow shields him from the bright lights within the large room, where you didn’t say much to him at all. In a soft voice that barely raised above a whisper, you simply asked, “Is anyone sitting here?” 

He could tell that you were a timid thing, just by the way you instinctively crossed your arms, waiting for him to answer. He thought he was a better man for always being respectful, abiding by people’s boundaries and giving women their space. He was a sweet thing and according to his girlfriend, he could make any girl swoon with his pretty brown eyes. Boyish features that are so adorably hot that he could bag any woman he wanted— according to his girlfriend. And he never took her seriously, fanning off her words, but here he is right now, wondering if he could potentially “bag” you. And he should feel guilty, he really should, but he wants to take it as a conquest now. His curiosity gets the best of him as he asks himself, could he? 

He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until you feel a sense of discomfort, squirming at his wandering eyes. “I’ll just— I’ll just go find another seat…”

“Wait! My seat’s—” he blurts in an effort to call out for you, but you ignore him and try to find the next open seat with someone else. He curses under his breath, the professor walking through the door and asking everyone to get in their seats. Takuma slouches as he frowns, his bottom lip jutting out as he spins back in the swivel chair as he opens up his iPad. He knew what his girlfriend said was too bullshit to be true. 

The next time Takuma sees you is at the courtyard. He was supposed to be meeting up with his girlfriend for a study session as they share a few classes together under the same major, but you had completely shifted his train of thought that he made a bee line straight towards you instead. Sliding into the vacant seat across from you, he drags your attention away from your laptop and the tupperware of sushi sitting next to it. Your curious eyes quickly turn to a grimace that you best tried to hide when you saw that it was Takuma. “...Hi?”

“Hi,” he responds back in a more chipper tone, though his insides said the very opposite as his heart panged against his chest. “I wanted to apologize about what happened the last time. I was being a creep.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected that, the apology catching you off guard that you didn’t know what to say, but when do you ever? He stared at you with those brown eyes. He was cute, you can’t help but admit, but there’s still something unsettling about him. You’re not quite sure if that’s your anxiety talking or just how he shamelessly sat across you, startling your peace. He had good intentions, though, so you tried your best to not put too much thought into it. At the fact that he has yet to leave, you expect that he’s waiting for your forgiveness. “It’s okay.”

However, to your dismay, he’s getting himself comfortable at your self-acclaimed table for the time being, loosening one of the straps over his shoulder as he slings his backpack onto his lap and unzipping it. He asked no questions on your preference, just making himself comfortable as he pulled out his laptop and set it open on the table. His eyes glancing over at you periodically. “Hey, what’s your major? I don’t really recognize you… but then, this is a large campus, so maybe we’re just running into each other this year.”

Should I answer him? The question rang inside your head over and over, a heavy rise in your chest coming to stand as you felt at a loss of breath. He was only trying to be nice, you figured. And it didn’t hurt to be nice back, your inner monologue reminding you. “I’m a… transfer student.”

His eyes brightened at that, eyebrows rising at the newfound information. “A transfer student, oh really?”

He went on like that for the next hour until you saw a figure coming in your direction. A girl with shoulder-length hair that shimmered from a black to a blue. Piercing brown eyes that seemed deadlier than Medusa the moment they landed on her boyfriend before her eyes found yours. They shone of unfamiliarity before they sparked to anger, her perfectly threaded eyebrows knitted together before stomping towards the both of you. “Ino, what are you doing here?”

Face contorting into confusion, Takuma turns around in his seat. Having forgotten all about his girlfriend, he nearly jumps out of his seat at the sight of her. His first instinct is to reach for the phone, the quick glance leading him to curse. “Fuck. Kazua, I’m so sorry… I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” In a flash, the young man— Kazua— brushes her boyfriend off. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You could’ve sworn you heard her say, I probably wouldn’t have gotten a thing done with you there anyway. She shoots you a nasty glare as she storms away, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Takuma doesn’t hesitate to run after her, but his footsteps stagger as he takes a second to look back at you. His movement stops, where his feet shuffle and he’s unsure what to do. It takes him a moment to muster out a “sorry!” before rushing after the angered girl to explain his side of the story. Which turned out useless as Kazua had given Ino the silent treatment— this time, he’s not sure how long for.

Takuma realizes that he really doesn’t have much charm to him in ways that other men have. He learns this through every interaction that he has with you in comparison to every other guy that’s come to approach you. From what he sees, they’re flirting with you — your eyes would light up and you would smile politely as they slid in the seat next to you. They’d spark up a bit of conversation and actually get more than an ounce of words out of you. Every time he approaches you, there’s a grimace in your eyes. Or, maybe it’s all in his head. 

He never notices how you’ve come to make space for him when he approaches. Simply sliding in the seat across from you and talking your ear off. He doesn’t pay attention when you’re starting to pay a bit more attention, your hums of ‘mhm’ are soft, but still a tell-tale sign that you have been listening— that you are listening. And if he had been truly paying attention, he’d notice the small twinkle in your eyes whenever he’s near and the way your lips curve upwards when he says something interesting or humorous. He’s so caught up in his nerves that he’s blinded by anxiety.

It catches him off guard when he finds you perched at the far corner of the bar, barely noticeable if he hadn’t known you. A bar well-frequented by students of the university, Takuma liked to come here particularly after his Friday classes in the evenings to blow off a little steam. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, it was as if you had miraculously appeared there the moment his vision cleared. It was a perplexing sight because he’d never take you for someone to go to bars. However, there you sit, dressed in a spaghetti-strapped top and a denim skirt that falls a few inches below your ass. 

There’s a shred of confidence that rises within Takuma then as he walks up to you. And he falls into routine, grabbing the vacant stool right next to you. The legs scrape the ground and make you jump in fright. Turning your head, your glare quickly turns into a gaze of familiarity, smiling when you see Takuma. “Oh, hi!”

This time he doesn’t miss the sparkle in your gaze. Have you always been looking at him that way? 

Truthfully, while this had been a Friday night where he’d have come to the bar, he had another reason to be here. His girlfriend had finally messaged him, wanting to speak about things from their short break. And usually, when this arose, he wouldn’t hesitate to meet her here, but now that he was, he didn’t feel any hope in their relationship anymore. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, but he ignored its small tickle as he was completely transfixed on you. “I didn’t peg you as someone who goes to bars.”

“I’m not,” you admit. “But I needed to get out of my dorm room… and my roommate was having some guy over.”

Takuma laughs. “The roommate kicking you out sounds more like what happened.”

You nudge him, despite the bemusement in your eyes. From finding him to be a small nuisance to accepting and genuinely enjoying his presence, you’re grateful that Takuma had shown up tonight. You had felt so out of place and your drink tasted horrible. However, you didn’t want to ask for another and waste it. It wasn’t your first time at a bar, but your first time at one alone. While you were one who enjoyed solitude, the bar wasn’t one of those places where you typically sought it. You felt stupid for coming here. Now, Takuma washed away all of those nerves.

Time washed away to something nonexistent. Takuma had ordered you something that tasted sweeter, better than your other drink. He spoke up for you when you were afraid to do it for yourself, and as the night had gotten later, he had grown more handsy with you. A subtle shift in him that you left unquestioned when you felt his hand touch your thigh, him scooting a tad bit closer to you, his legs unparting yours. He continued talking to you, eyes never deterring away from yours and you couldn’t help yourself from the captivation they held. 

Was this what they called liquid courage? You asked yourself. You hadn’t had much of either drinks, an unfamiliarity swirling inside of you as you weren’t aware whether the attraction you felt towards him was genuine or what you’ve had to drink. These emotions had been sweltering inside of you for a while, but what makes now so different? Why does this patter in your heartbeat feel more distinct than the rest?

Is it the hand that continues to be so daring as he leans closer to you, invading your personal space? How he remains so nonchalant, continuously sporting that boyish charm he possesses while he talks to you. Your skirt’s risen up significantly from its original length, and the lights have dimmed to the point where no one can really detect his movement. They can’t really see how he’s gotten his hand slotted against your inner thigh, creeping closer to what he so desires right now. 

He’s stopped talking at some point, but you can’t tell when. Fingers prodding at your clothed pussy, running smooth and tandem circles right against your clit as he watches you try to keep your composure. Your posture’s become slumped, breath becoming more jagged when he applies more pressure. He has to hop down from the stool to pull yours closer, making the wood touch each other as he’s given you no time to react. Your heart simply races as you come to gasp. He tastes sweet, but you’re even sweeter. Sweeter than he’s imagined. 

Nights where he’s spent thinking about you instead of Kazua, concealing his moans and breathy grunts as his fist is wrapped around himself. Oh, how his cock leaked deplorably to the thought of you underneath him. How he’d love to be sheathed inside of your pussy for hours on end, rutting inside of you until your sweet cunt ached and only begged for him. The smell of him was so pungent that the next day, his roommate didn’t need to hear him to know what transpired during his slumber. 

You were such a cute and quiet little thing that managed to get him so worked up, that he wanted to do the same for you. He should’ve felt ashamed the moment the bartender had interrupted, asking the both of them to leave, the moment things became too obvious. His cheeks should’ve reddened like how grew flustered and didn’t want to look anyone in the face on your way out, but he felt so accomplished within himself that he couldn’t. 

You let him lead you to his car, the small silver automobile that was parked not too far from the entrance. His mind led him to contemplate, to wonder what he should do to you, where exactly should he bring you to, but the moment he heard the click of his doors open, he grabbed your hand and let his cock do the thinking for him. You landed on the leather seats with a thud and a yelp falling from your lips, Takuma hoisting you further inside by the hips as he didn’t hesitate to reattach his lips against you. 

Your skirt no longer covered your ass, hiked up so high that it was around your waist now, your bare legs ready for the taking. The heat of his hands travel up and down your thighs, your moans sounding in the car. The moment you feel his erection ground against your core does this all feel too real. Your breath quickens, but not in its haughty need but with anxiousness as a lump starts to form. Suddenly, you’re not kissing him anymore, finding the strength within you to push him off. It has him taken aback, pulling away in concern. That hunger slowly dissipates as he searches for the problem. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I—” You diverted eye contact, finding entertainment in the back of the front seats instead as you struggled to let your confession out. When you do, it’s below a whisper, hard for Takuma to hear with the sounds of the bustling night, but he catches it— “I’m a virgin.”

It should be shameful for the way he felt jovial at the confession. Something that felt so embarrassing for you to admit was something that ignited something deep inside of him. It made him realize that he truly was no better than any other man with the way his cock stirred and how suffocating the air felt even more for you. Those beautiful brown hues within his pupils pool with a darkness that’s so carnal that it has you shrinking within his hold. “Ta—Takuma?”

He snaps out of it, leaving that headspace and returning back to normal. He gets it now — why guys find it so hot to be with a virgin. That feeling of superiority and power over someone so innocent. Gosh, he should’ve expected it. Everything about you screams the word itself. He brings himself to smile, his pearly whites seeming to dazzle in the dim lights of the street lamps shining inside the vehicle windows. Your eyes— those pretty pretty eyes look up at him with concern, but his smile makes it all go away as he utters out, “That’s fine. I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers are back to prodding at your panties, pretty pink cotton with a wet patch right at the center. He can feel your arousal bubble at every press of his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles and the infinity symbol into you. You’ve a God-given gift bestowed to him. A blessing you truly are to be splayed underneath for the taking. You moan, every action causing a reaction as you buck your hips, begging for more. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and to his skin, tugging him closer to you. You can’t think straight. There’s an ache in your back, pressed deep against the leather of the seats and the tight space is all too much. 

When you imagined this moment, you never imagined it in the back seat of a car, but you want this. You’ve convinced yourself of this and so have those eyes of his. You feel no shame anymore when he parts your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb pushing deep against you. Your juices seep from you, coating his digit in your delicacy as he goes up and down, up and down, up and down. Your inner thighs quiver, the feeling of someone’s touch much better than your own. 

He’s gentle— for the most part. He’d nip at your pump bottom lips, making them swell when he sucks at it. He marks up your skin, creating deep and dark blotches on your flesh that are too high up to be hidden with a shirt. And now that his index and middle finger have entered the mix, teasing the entrance of your sweet cunt, he’s ready to bully your insides with them in his greedy attempts to take care of you. 

He tells you, “gotta stretch you out,” when you whine. When in truth, he’s gluttonous for the sounds that you make. How, your voice gets all high-pitched and your nails dig past the fabric and more into his skin that it’s enough to bruise. However, he’ll be bashful to wake up to them. 

“Ah, Takuma!” you cry out, back arching against the seats as your chest presses into his. Bottom lip still caged by him, he bites down harshly against them and causes you to mewl out in pain. Slowly do those moans become whimpers as he batters your poor pussy with his fingers and the gnawing of his teeth against your supple flesh. It feels like a mockery when he sees you crying, cooing at you ever-so-gently as he asks, “Aww, why are you crying? I’m giving you what your pussy needs.” 

He comes to kiss them away, detaching himself from your lips to taste the salt of your tears and further soothing you with gentle kisses that contrast the drilling of his fingers. He fucks you with those two simple digits, ignoring the way your legs would flex and contract, squirming against his hold. The discomfort of the car soon went on ignored from the immense amount of pleasure, your slick drooling down his fingers as they twisted and twirled inside of you. 

A euphoric dance the two of you partnered in. It never slows down until that knot inside your stomach starts to form, a twinkle of light sparking deep inside of you as your walls pulsate around Takuma and you’re stammering out on your words. “Ino, it feels s–so good… Please, I think ‘m about’ta—”

“Yeah, yeah…” he chuckles. “I know.”

You cream all over his fingers, your body instinctively rolling your hips in efforts to feel the way you do now. He finds you beautiful like this, face contorted in immense pleasure as you gasp out an ‘Oh.’ And fuck, it’s so hot how you paint his digits in a white, that he ruts against the car seat, bashfully tasting your release. His pupils dilate, humming in delight as he presses himself down further into the seats. You’re forced to watch in awe, not that you’re complaining, bucking your hips upward in a silent plea for more of Takuma.

“God, you’re just perfect, aren’t you?” he breathes, not wasting another second with his cock concealed in his jeans. Within the tight confines of the car, Takuma shimmies out of his pants, pulling his underwear down along with it. You’ve maneuvered yourself to lean against the car door, your elbows helping you hold your weight up as you watch Takuma’s cock spring free from the tight fixtures of his pants. It’s pretty, just like him— sporting an average length and exceeding in girth. His uncut tip leaks of arousal, twitching in the stuffy car air as it wants nothing more but to feel your tight walls cage him inside. 

He bet it's nothing like his girlfriend’s. He already knows that you’re sweeter than his girlfriend’s. Your moans are even prettier and more sultry than hers. Because you have something against her, an innocence that still ties you down. And unlike his girlfriend, he’ll be the first to break it. Kazua was always straightforward, never wanting to engage in any foreplay. Never would sex last long with her, but with you? He can take his time.

Precum continues to leak from him, his mushroom head glistening in his arousal as he spreads it. So sensitive from its neglect, he hisses when he touches it. His fingers cold as he wraps his fist around it, giving it a few pumps before hovering more over you. It’s dark outside, minus the street lamps illuminating its light inside of the car. Fortunately, no one has come to see them inside. Takuma can see how your pussy still shines from your orgasm, your pussy lips parted with your creamy essence as you occasionally clench around nothing. 

His thumb has become familiar with you, pressing into your hole and eliciting a twitch from your body. He grabs your leg, a hearty grip on it as he drags you down without warning. You squeal, heart racing as your head hits the leather. Your eyes widen as both of his hands meet your hips to make the both of you further connect. He’s got your legs wrapped around him as he plays with your panties, pulling it back and letting it snap against your pussy. He watches how you flinch when it harshly makes contact with your clit, the slight jump making his cock do the same. 

With his length slotted in between your legs, he moves himself perfectly in between your folds. The pressure of his cock maneuvered in between them, alleviating an ache that was there but never to its fullest degree as you still anticipate for more. For that pop of your cherry. However, he teases you and ultimately himself. With the way he presses his tip right at your clit, letting them kiss whenever he glides upwards. 

“Please…Ino…” You beg, feeling ready for him, like you could take this big leap within your sexuality, you arch your back upwards and press it against him more. The fabric of your top and the friction of both of your chests against each other, tickling the dark nubs of your nipples and overstimulating you even further. You whine and whimper out in need, trying to pull him down and coax with the sensualness of your actions. But to no avail, he holds some restraint over himself. He wants to see how messy that pussy can get— just for him. 

Your slick drools and stains his seats, but he can’t be mad at you. How could he when he’s the cause of all of this? Outside the scene of a noisy Friday night, Takuma can hear how sloppy and loud your cunt is, how your juices sound from the motions of his cock pressed against you. The two of you is all that can be heard, yours and his wanton moans and the wet sound of your tantalizing cunt painting his cock in all that is you. It makes it all the sweeter when he finally prods at your entrance, the head of his cock barely stretching it out before you’re tensing up all nervously.

He tries his best to console you, tries telling you that you’re in the best of care, but who is he kidding when all he wants to do is ruin you. But, he still does, hushing out your nervous cries as you hold onto him so tightly. 

“Shhh…” he draws out. “You’re in good hands here—” Slowly, he enters you, careful enough not to scare you away, but still rough enough to where you’re shedding more tears than necessary. Yet, you convince yourself that it’s all part of the process, that truthfully, Takuma didn’t find pleasure in your pain. Part of it is true when the boy can’t make himself go any further the moment that he’s fully sheathed inside of you, waiting until he feels the hammer in your heart die down and until the grip on the back of his neck loosens and those pretty pretty eyes, all teary for him, finally blinks back open and a gentle nod gives him the okay he needs to keep going. 

It’s a pain that stings you at first, filled with nothing but discomfort the more he rocks his hips. But that same pain dissipates moments later, camouflaging itself with pleasure as your legs tense around him and captures him closer to you. When you cry his name, it’s no longer from the pain in your voice, but a plea for more, an approval to his ego that he’s been successful.

The rock of his car is finally the tell-tale sign that calls for people’s attention, the fog within the glass being evident to what’s happening inside. Some people hurry off in disgust, heading straight to their destination without looking back, others lingering as they find out a new kink about themselves, arousal pooling inside of their pants as well. Through all the commotion outside of the bar as people enter the establishment, whispering about it in disgust, it calls for Kazua’s attention as she’s grown mighty impatient about her boyfriend. He has never been late to the bar, but then again, he’s never been late to a study date. 

The past weeks he’s been occupied with that damn person that she never bothered learning the name of, simply looking at them and finding visceral disgust with them. It only made Kazua more upset at how Takuma wasn’t running to her anymore, pleading for forgiveness. No, he had found company in someone that wasn’t her. It made her furious. Furious enough to where she wanted to break up with him, but also not enough where she had the energy to. 

Standing from her seat around the bar, in the far corner where you previously were— with said boyfriend— Kazua calls it a night, pulling out her phone to text Takuma and tell him off and vent about how he’s such an asshole, but the whispers of some stranger before her called her attention before she clicked send. 

“They’re fucking disgusting,” a feminine voice scoffed in disgust. “Fucking like that in the parking lot— it’s not even empty!”

“Yeah, like, have some decorum and try to find somewhere more secluded at least,” their friend agrees, chiming in. “I don’t get people and their kinks these days. They’ve lost the art of shame.”

More and more people come in, speaking on the same subject, naming that the disgusting culprits aren’t too far from here. As a matter of fact, they’re a couple of steps away. In the pit of her stomach, Kazua has a feeling— a feeling that it could possibly be the man she’s been stood up by. However, she tries to convince herself that it was her nerves, her brain playing tricks on her. Nonetheless, she walks through the front door of the bar, eyes looking down both sides of the parking lot before she spots some passers-by, who just so happen to be pausing by a vehicle. They try to squint, peeping inside before they give up. 

Kazua squirms as she tries to decipher if she should seem like a perverted prick or if she should let ignorance, in fact, be a bliss. However, her feet move for her involuntarily as she clutches herself in the chill of the night. The streetlamps overhead illuminate, brightening itself on the all too familiar vehicle that belongs to her boyfriend— Takuma. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at this feeling of bliss, back no longer on the bottom of the seats as Takuma plunges within you with all of his strength. You’ve exceeded his expectations, proving better than his wet dreams about you as he fucks into your pussy in delight. His moans become louder than yours as he bashfully meets your pelvis with his. Your slick, copious amounts pour from out of you, dripping between the crevice of your ass. That familiar coil in your stomach returns once more, a reminder of what’s to come.

“Ino,” you cry, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Fuuuuckkk, I’m about’ta—”

He kisses you, swallowing your warning whole as well as your moans. He feels his cock twitch inside of you, his pace slowing when he pulls away. “Shit, me, too. Fuck, fuckin’ cum with me. Please.”

You nod, a high-pitched ‘mhm’ falling from you as your mouth goes dry. You clench around him, locking his cock to you as your pussy creates rings around the base of him. Simultaneously, you milk him dry, your pussy swallowing every bit of his release until it’s forced out and dripping down. The both of you pant from exhaustion, Takuma stilling his actions as he’s buried deep inside of you still. 

Those brown eyes of his. They look into yours with glee, the corners of the glistening as he smiles. One last chaste kiss he plants, gently gnawing down on your bottom lips as he’s about to fall against you. However, before he could do so, he heard heavy pounding against the glass. It calls for the both of you to sit up, desperately gasping for air as the two of you immediately suspect the police. However, the feminine voice that rings out in anger halts the male more than it does you. “Takuma!” Kazua yells from the outside, calling even more attention to the both of them now. “You better open up this door right now!”

( author's note. ) please let me know what you thought in the comments. i was a bit nervy writing this uwu.

[bunnwich]

This is altogether random, but I feel you might appreciate the idea: since Leona is doing his internship with a mining company in Sunset Savanna, I like to think if he were to propose to his partner, any ring would have a stone he found himself (then or years later) that made him think of them, because they’re worth the effort.

No, I love this so much and this actually inspired to think of some HC for Leona and Yuu's engagement!! So pardon me as I use this as an excuse to yap/draw.

🧡Leona x Yuu Proposal

🧡Engagement:

I picture Leona and Yuu would be together a while time before he worrys about marriage. Leona as we know is not traditional by any means. And the two are so used to just…being there for each other, lives intertwined like a braid. 

At this time after NRC I see Leona having his hands in a few things, but mostly just there as support for Yuu and even Ruggie as they navigate graduating. After his internship he currently sits as a member of the Board of Environmental Utilization.

I think they would already live together in a somewhat isolated place near the edge of the Outlands and Sunrise City. Leona originally helped get it for Yuu to have a forever home but now he finds himself there more and more. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, reminding Yuu of the Ramshackle.

I imagine their house has a revolving door policy and often has uninvited guests, Ruggie comes to visit a lot and uses it as a place to crash when he's in town to see his Granny. And then there's Cheka (who is now a teen rebelling against his parents.)

Often the two take late-night drives in Leona’s jeep to get away from the craziness of all. Leona struggles trying to adapt to a more humble living situation and lifestyle. (he still can't work the microwave for a damn), but he tries enjoying the quiet life he has with Yuu. Yuu is still figuring out how they will fit in in their new homeland as a Sunset Savanna citizen.

I feel Leona’s family would be hassling them about marriage for years but neither are too keen on the idea of it liking their private life. However, Leona knows it’s the easiest way to protect Yuu and make sure they always have a home and inherit the house they fixed up together. (Should anything ever happen to him.) Plus, it would give them full citizenship in his homeland. 

So one day, he decides that it's time to make it legal. Of course, he already knew a long time ago that they belonged to one another, this is so cemented in his mind and he’s not even that nervous about it. At this point, they’ve been through so much together they live together, they are one. So, he does it in his Leona way.

On one of their sunset drives together he pulls out a special ring his sister-in-law helped him design with Yuu's three favorite stones that he’d sent them in their time apart. He had two requests when he had it made: it had to have a moon for Yuu and a stone for both of them.

Leona during his internship would often collect stones he would find in the mines, finding some to send to Yuu. He knew that they liked that sorta stuff even if he didn't care for it. And he didn’t mind writing down little geological facts for them. 

“So…ya wanna be married to me?”

Yuu would honestly not expect it. And he said it so casually too! Smug bastard. But as usual, he was…right, their lives were so connected they couldn't imagine not seeing his cocky face every day or hearing his soft words of encouragement then loud ass snores every night.

“Okay.” They say with a shrug, and Yuu would be crying for both them. He was right, it just made sense. Besides, what would the lion do without them?

After putting the ring on their finger he'd wrap his arms around them, intending to never let go after that. He can’t help but get teary too. He never thought that he’d have someone like his brother did, to be by his side always.

“Well, now, yer stuck with me.”

“That’s okay.”

🧡Wedding:

As for a wedding, I KNOW Falena and Sis-in-law would press for a big, fat traditional Sunset Savanna wedding. There is a bit of controversy among some old-fashioned council members that Leona is marrying an outsider and a few murmuring that Yuu is a human too. But Leona’s favorability in the kingdom has always been so divided that some take an apathetic view, expecting this behavior from the second prince anyway.

Being a “spare heir” works in Leona’s favor this time, as there is not as much pressure for an arranged marriage for him as his brother had. Though there’s still some pushback. They were fine viewing Yuuta as a fling but it’s tradition for royal family members to have political marriages.

It’s a bit of strain on their relationship during this time with the stress of the capital’s spotlight on them. Since Leona told no one about it until after he proposed to Yuu. But, because a few on the council are fond of Yuu already, (as well as the queen regent), it all works out eventually! (Leona threatens to take Yuu and run away so many times.)

It is an…adjustment getting this much attention for Yuu. But, because the house they chose is already out of the prying eyes, the two compromise by agreeing to a true royal wedding…

This doesn’t last long. The two get fed up and…elope a few months later in the middle of the night. Cheka/Ruggie sneak out to be witnesses. Falena and the queen are pissed and make them promise to get married again in a few years publicly.

🧡Traditions:

Rings are a bit more of a modern marriage tradition in the Sunset Savanna as other countries' cultures melded with theirs over the years. Leona has never been one for traditions anyway and he liked the idea of matching rings, made out of the same ore and gems.

An old tradition of Sunset Savanna marriages is that of permanent bracelets, braided by hand by the officiating party. They are meant to stay on til death. Often colored beads are added to represent each personality. The braided hemp itself represents an eternity together in this life and the next. Through the circle of life, they are connected from then on out. 

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best - Jungkook (part 5)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Jungkook’s feeling down lately.

After leaving Sewoon in the club, he hopped on his motorcycle and started driving until he reached his own home. Opening the front door he looked around and was emerged by this void feelling. He didn't know what was going on and why he felt the way he did. It wasn't a normal reaction of his. His night even went okay, he was having fun with his friends and kissed the girl he was in love with. How come everything turned out to this shitty. 

Then he remembered Y/n, the way she spoke with him before leaving. Did he say something he wasn't supposed to? Was she mad because of the guy she was sad for? He picked up his phone and called her, not once, not twice but four times. In any of those tries did she pick up.

“Hey Y/n. Just wanted to let you know I’m home and safe. I’m sorry the way things went out tonight, it was a very confusing night. Are we good? We never fought before and I'm lost here. I just-- I want you to know I care about you Y/n, a lot. Never forget that”  

Five minutes later: 

“Please call or text me when you get the chance so I know you are okay and we can talk about it” 

"Don't leave me in the dark Y/n. I'm beggin you. Talk to me or else I'll lose it"

Nothing. After millions of calls and text the response was not what he was expecting and it was driving him insane. Breathing heavily he sent one last text

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

Sitting down on his couch waiting for a call or reply from you was being a nightmare. It's been an hour and he got nothing from you. He fucked up bad. "Shit”. Then his phone started ringing and he answered it so quickly he didn't have time to see who it was, almost dropping it midway.  

“Hello?” 

“Hi Jk.” Sewoon replied on the other side. “Did you get home already? I wanna apologize for the way I spoke earlier about Y/n. You’re right, I shouldn’t have take it so easily and said those things. Were you able to talk to her after?” 

“Ahhh Sewoon. No I didn’t. She's probably asleep. I’m sure she’s alright.” Jungkook said nervously. “she better be. She’s not home either. I went there and no response” Sewoon said and Jungkook mind stopped working. What does she mean she's not home either? Did she really went out with some guy? She was never the one to behave like this. Only if she was --

“Jk are you listening to me? Can I come over to yours? Leaving Y/n aside for a bit, I thought we could have some fun I saw how stressed you were before. I want to help you shake it off a little, like old times”

Jungkook could only laugh to himself thinking how crazy he was when he said “I’m sorry Sewoon, not today. I’m tired and wanna get some rest okay? I'm sorry. If you get any info on Y/n, please tell me yeah? Just to be sure she really is okay. Sleep thigh"

Dropping his phone next to him, he turned the tv off, went to his bedroom, laid down and tried to find a way to sleep

----- 

Y/n called her manager the next morning asking for some days off, caliming she was having some personal issues and needed some time to fix them. The manager put no restraining to that, giving her a week off since she never missed work and was a great employee. She knew that too damn well.  She spent her life that goddamn coffee shop trying to earn every penny she could .

After drinking with Lisa and clean the mess they made she tried to get some sleep. Everytime she was about to close her eyes her phone screen would light up. She would look at it. Another notification from Jungkook and one in particular from Sewoon saying “you better had some fun tonight bitch because you leaving the club with someone else ruined my night. Jungkook lost his mind thinking you were in trouble. Call me up".

Y/n couldn’t help but sigh. Was her best friend always so self centered? How come she never noticed it? She turned her phone off and rolled over, finally being able to get some rest until she wakes up with a loud bang on the door and Lisa walking in full of excitement.  

“Good morning lady. Did you pack your stuff already? Pack warm things, a book or two, some pair of boots and lots of socks. We’re going to the snow. Oh and our flight is in about 5 hours. Hurry up”  

You didn’t know if you wanted to kill Lisa or thank her for being such a light in the middle of the storm going in your head and your heart. The next few hours were a rush. Between preparing things, buying others, organizing documents and being ready in time to go to the airport and checking in. In all this time, Y/n hasn't responded to either Sewoon or Jungkook. It was better this way. It was too much on her plate. A burden she had no need to carry.

After all the stress to get there on time they finally managed to sit down in their seats and recover from all the rush. Y/n wasn't definitely used to all of this. After a bit of silence she turned to Lisa and said  

"Jungkook called and texted me several times last night. And Sewoon too. It made me question the context of her text."  

“what do you mean?” Lisa questioned. 

"Basically she blamed me for ruinning her night with Jungkook after I left the club." Y/n retorded. Lisa opened her mouth but then closed it. Y/n wishes she had said what she was going to say, but instead she questioned "Did you answered any of them?" Y/n shakes her head "Good. These days we will have our phones turned off. No Jungkook, no Sewoon and no worries. Let's just have fun and create some badass memories. Deal?”

Y/n has to make sure that after all this mess gets better, to thank Lisa for everything she's been doing for her. Not that she hasn't already. She's so glad she came back into her life at a time like this. It made her compare Lisa to Sewoon. Where was Sewoon in the most difficult moments of your life?

"Deal"

A bit of sadness hits Y/n. She holds Lisa's hand and mouths "thank you" squeezing it tightly. You are going to get through this, like you managed before but this time with someone who truly cares and you couldn't be more relieved by it

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

@esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @11thenightwemet11 @jk97bam

[maskedbyghost]

Since you’re bringing happy tears to me right now🥹🩵 can I request more fluff?! Ugly tears fluff?

Like what if it’s Simon & reader’s first Christmas as friends? (More like they’re in between trying to figure out if they’re friends or lovers because they haven’t expressed their real feelings but the connection is there)

Always love your writing!!!!🩵🩵🩵

you and simon had never been anything more than just friends. well, maybe there was something more, but neither of you dared to name it.

after all, he was the first person you’d trusted enough to show your fears, the only one who’d ever known about the nightmares that kept you up some nights. and he… he’d shown you his face once, late one night on a mission, lifting his mask like it was a gift, trusting you with a part of himself that no one else had ever seen.

you’d always been there for each other, in a way that went deeper than most friendships, but neither of you wanted to risk saying too much, scared to mess up something so good.

this christmas, everyone else had gone back to their families, friends, leaving the two of you alone at the base. no one else, just you and simon, two people who’d always kept everyone else at a distance.

so, you’d both decided to leave, to go somewhere far away, where no one knew you, and it could just be the two of you, away from the ghosts of family and friends you didn’t have.

the night was quiet, the kind of silence that felt softer somehow. you and simon sat in a small, dimly lit room in a tucked-away little inn, miles from the base, from the world you knew. it felt right, though; this, here, with him.

you didn’t expect a gift. the idea of him picking something out for you, knowing your thoughts, remembering the little things you shared, was something that caught you off guard when he placed the book in your hands, wrapped in a rough piece of brown paper.

you looked down at it, recognizing the title immediately—the book your dad used to read to you, something you’d only ever mentioned once in passing, but somehow, he’d remembered.

you didn’t mean to cry. it just happened, the way your breath caught in your chest, and tears started falling, slipping down your cheeks as you tried to blink them away, but they kept coming. he watched, looking a little lost, almost panicked, like he’d broken something precious by mistake.

“stop that,” he murmured, voice low, rough, as he reached up, awkwardly brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “didn’t think you’d… react like that.”

you laughed a little, sniffling, but the emotion was still there, too raw, too much, and he seemed to struggle with it, looking at you as though he couldn’t bear it. suddenly, his hand moved to your cheek, and then he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, tentative at first, like he was testing something fragile.

you melted into the kiss, feeling the warmth and comfort that only he could bring, and you realized that this was where you belonged. his kiss was hesitant but sincere, like he’d waited a long time to be close like this.

when he pulled back, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles along your skin, you could see something different in his eyes—something vulnerable, like he’d stripped away every layer he’d ever built to protect himself. it was a side of him he rarely showed, one you’d only caught glimpses of in the dead of night, after long missions, when he’d let his guard down just enough for you to see the man behind the mask.

“didn’t mean to… make you cry,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “just thought… thought it’d make you smile.”

you managed a shaky laugh, still catching your breath as you looked up at him. “you did, simon. it’s… it’s perfect. i just… didn’t expect…” your words trailed off, too heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

he watched you in that intense way of his, studying every inch of your expression, as if he were memorizing this moment, committing every detail to memory. “guess we’re not too good at this, huh?” he said quietly, his tone almost gentle, though there was a hint of self-doubt in his voice that tugged at your heart.

you shook your head, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. “we don’t have to be good at it, simon,” you whispered, letting yourself lean into his touch. “we just… we just have to be us.”

something in his expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. he didn’t say anything, but his fingers tightened slightly, as if he were afraid that letting go would mean losing this fragile thing between you.

slowly, he leaned down again, resting his forehead against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath, the quiet steadiness of him grounding you in a way no one else ever could.

you stayed like that, eyes closed, breathing in the quiet comfort of each other, the silence between you filled with everything you didn’t have the courage to say. in that stillness, you felt more at home than you ever had, the weight of loneliness lifting, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the reassurance of his presence.

“we’ll figure this out,” he murmured, almost to himself, as if he were making a promise. “you and me… we’ll figure it out.”

your eyes met his again, and in that shared gaze, there was a silent agreement, an understanding that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

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

hope you like it queen <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 5

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter warnings: so this is probably 60-70% smut or leading up to smut 😅, am I crazy?, maybe?, idk man T&C yoongi just has a bunch of tricks up his sleeve, i’m literally just a girl, tongue technology but it may not be what u expect, oral, protected sex, breast worship, nip stim, fingering, spanking, lil bit of exhibitionism, petting, office sex almost getting caught but they still finish yay, trampy Danbi and her weak-ass lines, overuse of jagi and baby because that's how I roll, if i missed anything lmk. MINORS DNI!

Word count: 7.3k (approx. 35 mins to read)

Posting date: November 2, 2024

Notes: Idk what else to say. Hope you think the wait is worth it. ☺️ Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist

You didn’t quite expect the night to end like this, but maybe part of you did. Spending intimate one-on-one time with Yoongi was a risk—one you knew would soften your heart even more. Despite every logical reason to pull back, to brace yourself for the shitstorm this would inevitably bring, you already made the choice. You were going to give this a try.

Yoongi offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. His grip is firm but gentle as he leads you from the cozy warmth of the living room to a quieter part of his apartment. 

You don’t know what to expect when you see his bedroom. But when he opens it to usher you in, you’re hit with a strange sense of familiarity and intimacy. Like the space is so him. Minimalist but warm, with soft neutral tones that you find soothing. The bed, a king-sized obviously for the king of naps, a spread of taupe gray sheets and a matching duvet dominates the center. The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the earthy walls, but what caught your attention was the view from his huge floor to ceiling windows.

Somehow during the time it took from the living room to his bedroom, the Hangang Rainbow Bridge decided to impress you a bit more. Technicolor lights mingle with swirls of water that shoot from jets along the bridge’s edge, setting the night alight.

It’s… wow. You can’t explain the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling at the moment. You just know that there’s no place else you’d rather be.

Yoongi stands behind you, his hand still resting lightly on yours, like he’s giving you space to take it all in. But the silence doesn’t last long. You turn to face him, your hands find his chest, fingers looping the strings of his hoodie as you pull him closer.

He doesn’t resist but there’s a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he leans into you, his breath warm against your skin. His lips find yours again and all the worries and doubts you carried with you slip away. You’re in it now, fully, and there’s no going back.

Hands slide up your back, under your top and something inside you snaps. You’re impatient now, hands slipping under his sweater, tugging it upward. Your fingers graze the warm skin underneath, and he lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your urgency.

"Easy, jagi," Yoongi whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "We’ve got all night."

The audacity of this man. Looks like a fuckin snacc, seduces you with his cooking and a slow dance, decides to call you jagi—then tells you to put on the brakes? 

You roll your eyes, but your fingers don’t stop. "You’re moving too slow," you complain, pulling the fabric up higher, desperate to get it off him. He laughs again, but this time, it’s softer, more affectionate. He’s clearly endeared by your impatience.

With a low chuckle, he helps you lift the hoodie off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, leaving him in a simple black tee that fits nicely across his strong shoulders. But he’s not done yet. He steps closer, hands finding the zipper of your hoodie, eyes darkening with intent. He takes his time, his fingers gliding over the metal. You can feel your breath hitch as he slowly pulls the zipper down, teasing you, dragging this out just to make you squirm.

"Let’s not rush this," he chides, as the zipper falls open, exposing your skin to the cool air. "I wanna take my time with you."

“Okay,” you mutter, lids fluttering shut as his hands push the garment from your shoulders, falling in a heap where his own lies.

One strap from your top sags with the motion, his plush lips quickly taking its place. He trails soft, velvety kisses towards your collarbone, then licks the tops of your breast, blows on it, cool air tickling the trail of wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth at the mix of sensations. 

���May I?” He asks, finger hooked on the other strap of your top.

“Yes,” you respond, engrossed at the way his eyes are drinking the slow reveal of your breasts as the fabric pools at your waist. 

“So perfect,” he muses, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you to stand in between his legs.

The angle is perfect for his mouth to connect with your chest effortlessly and you’re rewarded by the mesmerizing view of his pouty lips as they push and pull against your puffy nipples.

A name you’ve never used for any lover ever seems to spill seamlessly from your lips, only for the man responsible for your current state of disarray. “Baby… you’re so good at that.”

Yoongi nips your tits playfully, approvingly, and you can’t help but moan at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“Fuck—your tits,” he purrs, face pressed against your sternum while his hands push your mounds inwards to squish his cheeks. “They’re so soft, jagi. Mmm.”

Yoongi stays there for a while feeling the plush flesh against his face, and when you scratch his scalp with your long fingernails, he lets out a needy little whimper that almost sounds like a cat’s purr.

He moves to lavish your other breast, tongue darting out to coax it to peak. His eyes are transfixed on you and you can’t bring yourself to look away. He starts with kitten licks, before rolling it around your areola, and when it starts to pebble, his tongue moves faster and faster to flick at the tip and holy shit how is he so good at that?!

Lost in the feeling, you suddenly feel a tap on the side of your lips. It’s his fingers, the pointer and the middle, seeking entry. “Suck them for me,” he instructs and you do not have to be told twice.

You suck and lick around the digits and before you can even get into it he retrieves it and coats your free nipple with your own spit. The slick pinches of his fingers feel wonderful against your bud and with his mouth alternating sucks and rapid licks on the other, you start to feel a familiar yet wholly unfamiliar feeling igniting in your belly.

Yoongi’s so good and so, so fuckin’ sexy… And god his tongue. He really knows what he’s doing. You’ve never been with anyone who has made you crumble like this.

Soon enough you are panting and moaning haplessly. Your hands find purchase on the back of his neck, body tingling with a newfound sensation. When his teeth and blunt nails clamp down your nipples in unison, the stimulation becomes—fuck—too much to bear and

Wait—did you just??? 

Heat bursts inside your chest and your body surges forward as a sweet, subtle high, erupts within you in unexpected waves. The orgasm catches you off guard like a thief in the night. It feels like a gentle rumble, more like a preamble, and you’re already needy to feel the next. 

Yoongi steadies you as your knees give way, easing you into the cushions until you’re lying beside him.

“Yoongi…” you’re suddenly as shy as a mouse.

“Mm?” he asks, amusement apparent, ‘cause of course he knows. He knows you came just from nipple play.

“I uh I’ve… never—” you stammer, crossing your arms across your chest, a little embarrassed from what they’ve just made you do. “…that’s never happened before.”

“Did it feel good?” Yoongi asks, cupping the side of your jaw to make you look at him.

“So good,” you sigh. You can’t even fault him if his ego inflates after this.

“Then stop pouting and give me back those lips,” he pulls you towards him with a smirk. You crash your lips on his, swinging one leg across his waist as you hoist yourself atop him without breaking your contact.

Your weight settles against his center and you can feel the semi under his jeans rumbling to life as you do some experimental rolls of your hips. His hands fly to your ass, squeezing them as you grind against his stiffness.

“Take this off,” you instruct, although your hands are already hoisting his tee up and off his body. 

Once gone, you rake your greedy nails across his toned chest earning a tut from him as red marks immediately bloomed on the milky surface. You drag your tongue across the indents, capturing a nipple along the way, before ending on his neck and sucking softly. You enjoy the low rumbles in his throat for a bit before you push yourself out of bed, coming to stand by the edge where his legs dangle over.

Yoongi props himself up on his elbows, abs flexing to your quiet delight as he waits for your next move.

“Gonna give me a show?” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You smile cheekily, pushing your blouse down and it falls on the ground by your ankles. Belt loops are pulled and released and the button of your jeans goes next.

Yoongi’s eyes devour you as you shimmy the jeans down leaving you in a thin scrap of lace that barely covers your pussy.

Alright, so you did prepare in the eventuality that this would happen.

Newly bought and newly washed, it was something you had picked up in a boutique yesterday with Chae. White (or coconut white, as the sales associate said), it has delicate scallop trims around the leg openings and a thin waistband that criss-crosses at the back connecting to the thong. It was out of your usual price range, but you let your credit card take the hit, thinking his reaction will be priceless.

You’re right.

A pink tongue swoops outside of his gaping mouth. He shakes his head at you as if you did him dirty, but you both know that’s a look of appreciation.

He shifts to sit fully, sweaty palms immediately sliding up your legs to cradle the meat of your ass as he continues to ogle at the sight in front of him.

“This is pretty.” 

“I picked it for you,” you admit bashfully.

“I know you did, jagi,” he smirks. Sniffs. And there’s something wildly erotic in the way his nose nudges the lace where you know a patch of wetness has already formed.

He pokes the fabric in the middle, exactly where your clit is hiding and that brief contact sends sparks to your limbs. Fingers pinch the lace together, gathering it towards the slit of your pussy, then he does something that makes you gasp. He tugs the fabric up and down, the rough texture of the lace rocking against your puffed up clit, arousing you in a way you haven’t felt before.

“Shit,” you steady yourself against his shoulder, as you feel his mouth take one side of your pussy lips to suck. The friction feels phenomenal. More wetness gushes out of you and you decide to put a stop to things before it escalates again.

“Wanna see the back?” Needing reprieve, you turn around before he can answer.

You hear his sharp inhale. “Shit, your body is insane.”

Something akin to pride blossoms in your chest. You admit wondering how you might compare to other people who he’s been with. Probably gorgeous people sculpted by the gods just like him. But the way he looks at you—devastating, almost devoted—you’d be a fool to think he doesn’t view you as a descendant of Aphrodite, herself.

But then he bites the waistband and lets it ping against your skin, bringing you back to the present.

“Yoongi!” You gasp, pushing him towards the cushions and the bastard just giggles as he falls.

But the playful moment leaves after a beat, and soon enough, his pants disappear from his body, leaving him in black boxers, which you quickly get rid of as well.

Oh.

Okay.

You gulp.

He got that big dick energy and now you have the proof. 

Your knees sink on the mattress, between his open thighs, the perfect spot for you to worship his cock. Heavy against his stomach, veins run up towards the head—red and swollen and angry. A bead of cum pools at the tiny slit at the very tip. Cute.

“Is this for me?”

“All for you.”

You hum, delighted. “All mine,” you say and you feel him throb against your hand as you reward him with a few pumps. After a while, you let your mouth take over, first cleaning up the salty precum on the tip with swipes of your tongue, noisily licking it for his audible enjoyment. 

The sheets move beneath you as Yoongi grips them, face already a picture of impatience. “Don’t tease,” he says.

You suck him with gusto, letting your spit dribble down his hard length. You fist the base of his cock, timing your strokes with each bob of your head. The breathless moans coming from his lips only spurs you to keep at this smooth cadence.

A hand threads through the side of your hair before it is gathered in a loose grip. He doesn’t guide your movements, but anchors himself on you as if he’s at the edge of his life—he sure does sound like it. Groans and grunts huff out of his throat, sound bytes you need to mentally record for use when you're alone.

“Ahh, hol’ up…” he gently tugs your hair, cock falling from your lips and slapping against his tummy.

You look up at him, wiping your bottom lip with the back of your hand.

“I need to be inside you.”

“How do you want me, baby?”

“I need that perfect ass up in the air,” he replies, lips curling up, “Don’t remove your panties.”

You both shift around the bed, and you end up face down by his pillows. You can smell the comforting scent of his fabric conditioner and maybe his shampoo, rooting you in the present.

His hands grip your waist, tracing the contours of your body, sweat lubricating the path towards

“This ass…” he says, more to himself than you. You feel him lick one of your cheeks before he bites down, making you squeal.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

He rips your lace panties in half, the poor fabric sent sailing to the other side of the room. You somehow knew it was coming when he asked that it stays on.

“Kinda cliche,” you tease and he chuckles. “You left me with no choice.”

“Well, you could’ve not ripped it actually. Those are new,” you scold him with no real bite.

His chest connects with your back, and you feel a smooch or two being deposited to your shoulder blades. “I’ll replace it.”

He hitches your hips back so you can feel the ridge of his cock between your ass, hand reaching forward towards your mound. “Let me prep you real quick…”

“NO.”

“No?”

Your patience has worn thin. “I can’t wait anymore, just fuck me.”

You hear the crinkle of foil, the adjustment of rubber, then you feel it. The tip of his dick teases your folds, coating it with the juices seeping from your cunt. Gentle in the way he plants one of his hands on your waist, Yoongi reminds you, “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

His cock finally breaches your entrance, your swollen walls accommodating his girth slowly but spectacularly. You love the burn inside. A loud moan launches itself from your throat as he bottoms out, the feeling full, stuffed, complete.

“Mmh, Yoongi, you’re so big…” you couldn’t help but clench at the delicious stretch.

“So tight, shit. W-wait, don’t do that—” Yoongi already sounds wrecked. 

“Please move,” you beg, throwing your ass back once, and you hear Yoongi grunt, hands gripping your waist tighter.

He starts rocking his hips, pushing his length earnestly into you that you’re sure you will feel him if you press on your lower stomach. Your cunt is on fire, but your clit is aching for some relief.

Mind read, Yoongi tells you to touch yourself so you do, plunging your middle finger on your nub. The pleasure increases tenfold. 

Yoongi groans as he continues to fuck himself into you. He doesn’t say anything else but his labored breaths are signifying his forthcoming demise.

He slips out of you and you almost scream at the loss.

Quickly you’re flipped to your back and you are hit with the sight of Yoongi’s crumbling composure, a lone drop of sweat trailing from his jaw to his chin.

He lines himself up on you again and this time the glide is smooth, your slippery cunt offering little to no resistance as he ruts against you, fast and fuckin’ furious.

“You’re fucking me so well, baby,” you praise in stuttered phrasing, and his forehead drops to rest on yours, the rhythm of this thrusts unchanging.

You frame his face with your hands and pull him towards you. You kiss him. Lick the back of his teeth. Tug at his bottom lip. And the neediest whine slips from his mouth onto yours.

“Are you close, jagi? Cause I fuckin am…” his voice is almost drowned by the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and the feral noises you’re involuntarily making.

“Y-yes…” you say as you play with one of your nipples, shuddering slightly from over sensitivity.

His pace increases even more with a sudden, breathless urgency. Every nerve in your body is buzzing to life, every part of you aware of how your bodies are connected. Maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes, or the way his tongue moistens his lips, but it’s enough to push you careening off the cliff, as your walls clamp down on his cock, body vibrating in a surge of electricity.

The way he pushes himself on to you is desperate. He looks so fucked out but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not until the movement of his hips becomes erratic and he pulses inside of you with one prolonged moan, and the condom inside of you fills up with the proof of his pleasure.

You wish you started taking those damn birth control pills earlier.

“You good?” you ask, raking your nails against the clammy skin of his back. His head rests on the crook of your neck.

He lifts his head to level with yours, a lopsided grin on his lips. “Better. Bestest.” He looks positively drunk.

You shove a hand across his face, “you’re stupid.”

He shakes his head, rolling out of bed to dispose of the condom and to get a warm washcloth for you. He helps you clean up and you steal his tee from the floor, pulling it over your head before he can even protest. 

“I can get you a fresh one,” he offers.

“I want this, smells like you,” you say.

His nose crinkles like he couldn’t stand your cheesiness, but of course he pulls you towards his body and under the duvet.

You share a brief kiss, but you’re too spent to do anything else, and soon enough, sleep claims you both.

The morning light filters softly through Yoongi’s curtains and you can see the dustmites floating in the air like glitter. You blink yourself awake, the memories of last night still wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The actual blankets are tangled around your waist, and the faint sound of movement in the kitchen catches your attention.

You stretch, feeling the pull of muscles you didn’t realize would be sore. Everything about this moment feels surreal—like you’re hovering between reality and some alternate version of it.

Yoongi pads into the room, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. He looks cozy. When he sees you, his lips curve into a soft smile.

“Good morning, jagi.” His voice is a smooth melody, the last word warming you instantly. You really can get used to him calling you that.

You bite your lip, smiling back. “Morning.”

He crosses the room in a few steps and hands you a warm mug.

His cheeks are adorably puffy, and his eyes still look a bit more squinty than usual. All you want to do is reach out and squish that face.

“Didn’t think you’d be up this early,” you say, before taking a quick sip from your cup. “Thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“Had to make sure you didn’t disappear on me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, but his eyes stay locked on yours, watching you closely.

You pout. “Why would I leave?” 

Yoongi shrugs, setting his mug down on the nightstand before turning back to you. “Just wanted to make sure you don’t regret last night.” The vulnerability hidden in his tone catches you off guard, his casual words heavy with meaning.

Your heart skips, but you cover it with a grin. “Regret? Not a chance. I mean, the bed was comfortable, and you didn’t snore, so…” You throw in a teasing smile, watching for his reaction.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something behind his eyes, something uncertain. He’s usually so composed, always knowing where he stands. But right now, he seems like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

Before you can dwell on it, he leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of you. You are caught off-guard by the sudden proximity and you’re not ready for the tsunami of emotions roaring in your chest. He says your name, before carefully stating the next few words.

“I’m all in. You know that, right?”

The vulnerability in his voice is palpable, like he’s still waiting for you to pull away, to tell him this was a mistake. That this was a bad idea, like you said last night. The importance of his words hits you, your heartbeat quickening under his gaze. 

All in. Wow. He really said that.

The way Yoongi’s looking at you right now, like he’s handing you his heart—fuck, it’s overwhelming. It’s exactly what you want, and you can’t explain the emotions that fill you up.

But you’re not about to let him off easy. You tilt your head, sipping your coffee slowly as you let the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary. “All in, huh? That’s a big commitment. You sure you can handle me?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm against your cheek. “I think I can handle you. The real question is… can you handle me?”

You set the mug down, leaning back into the pillows, a small grin on your lips, but your next words are as honest as can be. “Yoongi, you’re a lot to handle. You’ve got way too many strings attached. Might be more than I can take on.”

You may have said it as a joke, but you know what they say about jokes being half-meant. He knows it, too. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“We can take it slow,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna take care of you, you’ll see,” voice gentler now. “And if you’re in, I’m in—completely.”

You can see the sincerity in the way he looks at you, the way he’s offering more than just casual affection.

If you would be totally honest, you still had some doubts. There were too many variables that you both still need to discuss. But for now, there is only one appropriate response and you are willing to give it to him. 

“Okay,” you finally whisper. “I’m in, too.”

The gummy smile that breaks across his face is blinding, and there’s something like relief in it that makes your heart flip. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you can’t help but grin.

But the sweet gesture turns into something else as his hands slip under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—his touch slow, deliberate. His fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist, sending a ripple of heat through you.

You lean into him, coffee forgotten, tugging him down into a kiss that’s lazy like Sunday morning. He tastes like his Americano, and the way his lips move against yours makes your head spin.

Yoongi’s lips trail down your neck, pressing soft pecks to your skin. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer.

You move back just slightly, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Aren’t we having breakfast first?”

His eyes darken with a lazy grin, the hand from your back now moving to grasp one of your tits. “That's exactly what I’m having right now.”

You’re utterly screwed.

Yoongi wastes no time diving in your cunt, especially since your underwear is MIA. Tongue flat, he licks your slit once, does it again, and earns a desperate whine from you. It doesn’t take long for him to start making out with your clit, gamely exploring this part of your body in a way he wasn’t able to do last night. He spreads you apart, tongue moving faster and faster like it’s his only setting.

“Just like that…” you say, already feeling embarrassingly close.

He pushes two fingers inside you, gets you plugged nice and tight for him. “You there, jagi?” He lifts his head slightly, to see your reaction.

You curse, gripping the short hair on his neck only to push him back towards his unfinished business.

You feel the smirk against your folds before he resumes his messy work against your pussy, wet muscle dancing in delicious figure eights.

“I–shit, I’m cumming…”

Your legs shake, your moans get louder, and your ears are filled with static as you come, hard, his fingers almost darting out of your hole from the strength of your release.

Yoongi hums and the vibration from his lips coaxes you down from your high.

“That was…” your words trail off as you stare at the white ceiling, lungs needing to be filled with oxygen.

Yoongi dutifully cleans his own mess between your thighs. With his tongue.

When he’s done, your world tilts back to normal (ish) and before you can offer to reciprocate, Yoongi is already slinking out the room, calling after you, “Come, jagi, I cooked haemul pajeon and, don’t bring your coffee, I’ll make you a fresh one.”

If this is how he vows to take care of you, damn, you’re one lucky bitch.

You’re back to work the next day. He insisted on picking you up from your apartment, though you tell him it was not necessary as it may raise some suspicion. You both keep things professional once clocked in but you cannot deny there’s a magnetic pull that is making it difficult to keep your paws away from each other. Once in a while Yoongi catches your eye and you’re brought back to your weekend of debauchery. When he nudges his head towards the door in the back of your office, you already know what he’s asking.

You don't say no. You say, 'later.'

The office has that late afternoon hush, when most people are too buried in their work to notice anything else. It’s just you and Yoongi, tucked away in the back office closet, a space that smells like old paper and dust. You’ve been here before of course—sorting files, you know, actual work—but today, when you enter, you only have one task: you and Yoongi are set to defile the file closet.

Yoongi stands so close you can feel his breath on your neck, his hands resting just above your hips, pressing you lightly against the Ikea file cabinet you both put together weeks ago. 

“Alone at fuckin’ last,” he murmurs.

“C’mere baby,” you whisper, arms slipping around his neck. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, everything else fades.

He leans in, kissing you slow—so slow you think you might combust. You push your tongue against the seam of his lips, a little insistent, because you really can’t take your sweet time in this ancient closet.

Yoongi’s fingers start working the buttons of your blouse, one by one. The way his eyes trace your skin makes every hair on your body stand to attention.

But just as his hand slips inside, the door rattles.

You both freeze. Heart in your fuckin’ throat.

“Yoongi, you in here?” Hyun-woo’s voice pierces through the thick air. The panic kicks in fast, adrenaline flooding your veins.

Yoongi pulls back, completely nonplussed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. How the fuck is he always so calm? He reaches out, smoothing your hair as if he’s done this a hundred times before. The tenderness in the gesture only makes your heart pound harder.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls out, voice steady, like he isn’t seconds away from getting caught with his hand halfway inside your blouse. “Just organizing files.”

Hyun-woo opens the door, peering in, eyes narrowing slightly.

You flash a too-bright smile. “Hi, Hyun-woo! Just teaching Yoongi with the filing. Total disaster in here.”

Hyun-woo doesn’t buy it, not completely, but the suspicion in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared. “Right. Well, don’t take too long. That room always triggers my claustrophobia.” He pulls the neck of his shirt forward.

Yoongi replies, giving him that practiced, unbothered nod. “Just finishing up.”

As the main door to your office clicks shut, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for far too long.

“That was way too close,” you whisper, your pulse still racing.

Yoongi grins, closing the door again with a nudge of his foot. “Too close,” he agrees, voice low and teasing, as he leans in to steal a quick kiss. “But I’m not done yet.”

“Wha—” The question barely leaves your mouth before Yoongi’s hands are on your shoulders, turning you smoothly so that you’re facing the file cabinet.

“Remember when we were building this very cabinet?” His voice has dropped even lower now, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “Yeah?” Your hands are guided to grip the top corners of the cabinet, and your breath catches. What is he doing?

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to process. His voice slides closer, warm against the back of your neck. “What were you doing then?”

You frown slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Nothing…” you say, but it comes out uncertain, more like a question than an answer.

Without warning, his palm connects with your ass—firm, but playful. You gasp, more out of surprise than pain, and turn your head to find him wearing that lopsided grin that drives you crazy. “Ddaeng,” he chimes, the word rolling off his tongue with a playful edge. “Try again.”

“I was—I was helping you,” you say, though your voice is wavering.

“Ddaeng,” he says again, the second slap sharper this time. “You did jack shit. C’mon, jagi, use your pretty little brain…”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your face flush. “I was… I was looking at your hands.”

Yoongi nods approvingly, his grin deepening. “And why were you doing that, hmm?”

You hesitate, your heart thumping harder, not from nerves, but from the way he’s pushing you. You know the answer. 

“Because…” You swallow the admission heavy on your tongue, deciding to go the other way instead. “You were taking too long to build it.”

SLAP! “Ddaeng,” the third is much more deliciously painful now, your bum soothed by his large palms. “Huh, I think my jagi enjoys being spanked.” He licks the shell of your ear, making your knees buckle, and his voice comes through in a suspiciously calm tone, “Lie to me again and I’m going to step out this door and leave you here dripping. I bet you’re already wet.”

“Drier than the air in Daegu.” You jest, even as your lips tremble.

You squirm as he pins you against the cabinet, his hand making quick work of the top button of your linen pants. Things are happening so fast. His hand disappears inside, hooks your panties to the side and dips one finger shallowly at your entrance. God you wanna scream.

You squirm some more, but he’s got you pressed up, not enough to hurt you, but enough to limit your movements.

“Liar,” he chuckles darkly. In one quick motion his hand flies out of your pants and goes into his mouth, tasting you. You can literally smell the heady scent of your arousal filling the tiny space, making you needy for some relief.

“Yoongi,” you whine, trying to throw your ass back against his crotch. “Baby, please…”

“Why were you looking at my hands…” he jerks back, not giving you any relief, and asks again. “What do you want me to do with them?”

“I want you to put them inside me.”

“Hmm, what else…” he starts to unbutton your blouse again, not all the way, but so he can yank one of the cups of your bra to tease a nipple.

A flick from his moist finger and you’re already writhing in desperation.

“I want them stuffed in my mouth, and—shit—my pussy. I want them… choking me.”

“Naughty girl,” he tsks, pinching your nipple between his deft fingers, eliciting a moan from you. You feel his warm breath against your ear, teasing you. “Shhh…. I thought we were gonna keep things professional.”

Christ. He knows how sensitive your nipples are and he’s getting you so worked up again you might go criminally insane. You somehow manage to reply.

“I need you…” you whimper. “To fuck me with your fingers.” another whine. “Like a goddamn professional.”

“So bossy,” he chuckles, as his other hand dips under the waistband of your panties, past your fine hairs, and into your waiting folds. His middle finger immediately finds your clit and starts rubbing it in circles. “How’s this?”

You nod, and you gulp, and you stutter, “Good, s-so good.”

Because fuck, everything just feels so damn good. Bones softening, you are merely putty in his hands. Those sinful hands that are coated with your juices, moving in sync to bring you to your demise.

He envelops your ear with his mouth, hot breath further fanning the flames in your core. The way you can hear the sounds of his licks and soft grunts in fuckin’ Dolby atmos–oh my god.

Without any warning, he plunges two fingers in your entrance, your walls immediately sucking them in. 

“You’re soaked, jagi,” he husks, large hands pushing your breasts together under your bra, to give you another sensation to enjoy.

His knee nudges yours to close the gap between your feet, and, when you do, everything in your pussy feels even more wonderfully snug. His thumb provides the perfect pressure against your clit, while his fingers move in and out of your cunt with noisy squelches that are bouncing off the walls of the tiny room.

“Am I completing the task to your liking?” he asks teasingly, even though he can feel every proof of his job well done with the way your body is vibrating against him.

“Shit, y-yeah,” you breathe out, turning your head to the side, so you can try to capture his lips. He lets you have it, twirling his tongue against yours.

Mouths still connected, he thrusts against your ass, and his fingers go in much, much deeper. Yoongi swallows your moans as you grip the edge of the cabinet, holding on to your life.

“M close,” you plead. “Don’t stop.”

He sets a staggering pace with his fingers inside your clenching walls, thumb repeatedly bumping your bundle of nerves.

His other hand creeps up your neck towards your chin and your mouth immediately chases it, taking his thumb inside your mouth like a goddamn fiend as the rest of his fingers cradle your jaw.

Salt on your tongue, sweat on your back, slick against your core, a cacophony of pleasure keeps building in record speed until you can’t take it anymore.

“Take it, jagi.” Yoongi says. “Take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Finally, the threads keeping your sanity intact finally snaps and a rush of euphoria overcomes you. Yoongi attaches his mouth on the sensitive part under your ear, sucking softly while you come undone against him. An arm circles your waist as he lets you ride the wave, murmuring praise against your skin.

“Remind me to keep wet wipes here,” Yoongi says jokingly as he helps you button up your blouse.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

So much for keeping things professional.

Wait—it’s not like you’ve started fucking on the reg at work. Sure there was that time in the file closet (Monday), but that was it. You still pride yourself as a dutiful professional and want to ensure your blossoming relationship is not going to get in the way of your productivity.

But since that closet tryst, you haven’t really done much inside or outside the office. He hasn’t invited you again to his apartment and you haven’t asked him to come to yours. Granted it’s only been a few days, and you did say you were going to take it slow, but tbh, you were already feeling kinda needy.

The problem is, it’s early enough in your sex life that you still know your tally and it’s 4:1. That’s the ratio of orgasms–yours to his. You are lucky he is such a generous lover, but you need to tip the scale in his favor, and fast.

It’s thirsty Thursday. For you, at least. The moment he invites you to the breakroom for your usual shit afternoon coffee, your horny brain immediately concocts a little plan of action.

See that area behind the counter, that’s a CCTV blind spot. It’s quiet, it’s not secluded but the counter is high enough and if you open the bottom cabinet door, you get some extra shield.

“You know you’re asking for trouble, right?” he shakes his head at you, before running his hand through his hair.

You are already palming him against his trousers, biting your lip as you feel his erection grow with each pass.

“Trouble’s my specialty, remember?,” you reply, your tone light, playful.

“Mmh, jagi, fuck–” he slaps his palm on the countertop, bowing his head to watch your hand hasten its strokes. But just as you’re about to kneel, the door swings open. Fuck. You both pull back like teenagers caught sneaking out, your heart dropping into your stomach as Danbi walks in. Her eyes widen at the sight of the two of you—close, too close.

“Oh. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she says what is so obviously an outright lie. You can feel her gaze flick between you and Yoongi, curiosity practically radiating off her.

You walk towards the fridge on the other side of the room, forcing a neutral smile. “Just grabbing some snacks,” you say, even though your stomach’s in knots.

Danbi raises an eyebrow, but then her attention shifts fully to Yoongi. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, all sweet smiles as she extends a hand. “I’m Choi Danbi from Accounting.”

Yoongi takes her hand, but his expression doesn’t shift—polite, but distant. “Min Yoongi,” he says, his tone cool, relaxed, as if he is not sporting a semi from behind the counter.

And then, Danbi does the thing that makes you cringe to your core.

“So, Yoongi, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d never come back. Yoongi, though, doesn’t flinch. He releases her hand and his guarded expression unchanged.

“Not really,” he says flatly. “I’m more of a ‘get to know someone’ kind of guy.”

Danbi’s eyes brighten, completely missing the hint because she is a daft cow. “Well, then—why don’t we? You know, get to know each other. Could be fun.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! 

You grit your teeth, trying not to let your irritation show as you slam the fridge door, glass bottles inside saluting each other. But Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, his expression still calm, still unreadable.

“I appreciate the offer,” he says smoothly, keeping his tone light, “but I’m not interested in doing that. Sorry.” His eyes flick to you for just a second—quick, but deliberate.

Danbi’s smile falters. Her eyes follow Yoongi’s glance to you, and something odd flickers across her face. She forces out a laugh, backing up toward the door. “Right. Well, can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Yoongi nods politely, but his attention is already drifting back to you.

The moment the door clicks shut behind her, you let out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell was that?”

Yoongi shrugs, clearly unfazed. “People shoot their shot. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you glare at him. “That was straight-up workplace harassment.”

He chuckles, amused by your frustration. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? No. Annoyed? Hell yes.”

He smirks, pulling you by the wrist back to your shared office. People walking down the hallway may see you, but at the moment you are a raging bull. You’re still fuming, muttering about Danbi’s persistence and her complete lack of subtlety, but Yoongi stays quiet, listening as you rant. By the time you step into the office, your nerves are on edge, and you can feel the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

But the second you’re both inside, Yoongi pulls you into his arms. No warning, no hesitation. His grip is firm, grounding, and despite yourself, your body softens against him.

“Jagiya,” he murmurs sweetly against your hair. “Relax.”

You try to stay annoyed, but Yoongi’s tone, his steady heartbeat under your cheek, makes it difficult. He leans back slightly, his hands slipping to your waist as he looks down at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know I’m all yours, right?”

You look up at him, biting back the last of your frustration. “I know. It’s just… she was so pushy.”

He nods, his thumbs brushing your sides in a calming rhythm. “She was. But it didn’t change anything.” His voice drops lower, more serious now. “It’s still you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the quiet confidence in his voice. You’ve known this for a while now, but hearing him say it—feeling him say it—it hits different.

Something shifts inside you. That underlying fear you’ve been holding onto, the doubt that maybe you’re just a phase for him, gone. 

You’re all in.

Before you can say anything, Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead, his arms tightening around you, his touch both protective and possessive in the best way. “You good?” 

You nod against his chest, smiling to yourself. “Yeah. I’m good.” And for the first time, you really believe it.

As you pull back to meet his gaze, a smirk tugs at your lips. “You know, you could’ve shut her down sooner.”

Yoongi grins, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Thought you might like to watch me handle it.”

You laugh, swatting his arm. “Next time, I’ll just handle it myself.”

He chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he pulls you back into his arms. “Can’t wait to see that.”

You lean into his embrace, letting the last of your frustration fade. In this moment, it’s just you and him. Everything else? Background noise.

Because you’re in it. All the way.

Notes: Phew! So… how are we? Gosh, this was honestly a beast to write for me. Did you like the chapter? Hate it? I’d love your feedback. Let's have fun in the comments!!! :)

Taglist:

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[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

?: Listen skank.

Dan: God..?

?: I found a hair in my burger and I need you to refund it for me. Also make me another.

Dan: The hell you think you’re talkin’ to?

Kai: Hai.

Dan: Bitch! I thought you died! 

Kai: Nope, just life. Work. College. The usual.

Dan: Hmph. Let’s go sit.

Kai: Wait, aren’t you on the clock?

Dan: Yeah? Who gives a fuck? And if they do, I’ll punch ‘em.

Kai: DAN!

Dan: Meh, it doesn’t matter. I have news.

-

Kai: Holy shit, congrats!

Dan: It’ll be nice working near the bay. The company sounds pretty great too. 401k, free admission to the aquarium, and healthcare. First time in my life I’ve ever had that. Wild.

Kai: I’m happy for you! Who else knows?

Dan: Uh, just you, Frances and Atlas. I’ll probably tell the others at the record store soon. Gotta keep them up to date with the lore.

Kai: Ah. Have you told your dad?

Dan: No-uh. 

Kai: I see.

Dan: I want to tell him, I really do. 

Kai: So what’s stopping you?

Dan: Ugh, feelings. Don’t make me talk about them right now.

Kai: Fine! We can talk about something else.

Dan: Let’s talk about you.

Kai: Naur.

Dan: Si. Where’ve you been loca?

Kai: [ cackles ] I hate you!

Dan: I’m sorry! You seem so… Different. Confident, maybe? 

Kai: I didn’t realize. I dunno, a lot’s happened. 

Dan: Like?

Kai: I slept with someone. Well, multiple people, actually. Taryn knows I like men. About Atlas, too. Speaking of which, there’s no fixing that.

Dan: What the fuck.

Kai: [ chuckles ] I’m surprised you took all of this for confidence.

Dan: I mean, you seem to be holding up better than I expected.

Kai: I feel hollow, Dan. Like everything’s wrong but I gotta accept it.

Dan: You can change it. 

Kai: Maybe, but the way I left things with Alex-

Dan: Alex? Who?

Kai: He’s a good person and I… Took advantage of that.

Dan: What’d you do?

Kai: The night of the party. I told Atlas how I felt. Subconsciously I mean. It all sorta slipped out. I wasn’t really planning on it but he said some things. Well, we both said some nasty things. I was angry. He said that I knew nothing of compassion so I called Alex. I called him and I proved Atlas right. 

Dan: Kai…

Kai: I felt so ashamed after sleeping with him. Using him to mask the rejection I felt. He didn’t deserve that. I’m such a shitty person.

Dan: Don’t go there. 

Kai: It’s so hard not to.

Dan: So you made a mistake-

Kai: Several.

Dan: Everyone fucks up. There is not one person I’ve met that has done everything right. Look at our friend group. Complete mess but I’d like to think at the end of the day we’ve got each other. Regardless of flaws, it’s always been us. 

Kai: I miss it. All of us. Together.

Dan: I do too, but we’ve all got shit to sort out, yeah? Why not give yourself the space to do so as well.

Kai: Sure.

Dan: And stop calling yourself horrible, got that?

Kai: Maybe.

Dan: Bastard. 

Kai: How are you gonna tell me to be nice when you do this shit?

Dan: I never said I was perfect! Want me to grab you a milkshake? 

Kai: Hell no, you said you never clean it.

Dan: PFFT- Valid. I’ll grab you a soda.

Kai: Hey, wait.

Dan: What’s up?

Kai: Thank you for taking care of us.

Dan: Someone’s got to.

[lvmoure]

The Man Who Can't Be Moved CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: In which Carlos still haven't moved on.

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, break up

Carlos regretted leaving you.

Mallorca 2019

The day was warm, a typical Mallorcan sun casting its golden rays over the sparkling blue sea, the sand beneath your feet hot but soothing. You squinted as the salty breeze tousled your hair, making you laugh and brush it away, your cheeks already tinged with sunburn. You weren't sure what had compelled you to agree to Lando's impromptu invitation to spend a weekend in Spain with his friend. Maybe it was the pull of adventure or just the excuse to escape for a few days.

You noticed Lando first, laughing as he called your name from the water, his voice breaking through the gentle murmur of the waves. But then you saw him. Carlos Sainz was a striking figure even in the simplicity of swim trunks, his tousled brown hair catching the sun's light, and his eyes—dark, intense—locking onto you with an easy, curious smile.

"Carlos, this is my friend," Lando introduced, his grin a bit too wide, like he knew something you didn’t.

Carlos extended his hand, the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Encantado de conocerte,” he said smoothly, his voice rich and warm, as if it had soaked up the Spanish sun along with him.

That day stretched into laughter-filled hours. You went swimming together, raced on the sand (he let you win once, although you both knew he could have easily outrun you), and had an effortless conversation as the sky shifted from blue to warm amber. Carlos seemed captivated by your stories, genuinely listening, occasionally pausing to repeat what you said in Spanish, as if savoring every word.

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky blushed with hues of pink and purple, Carlos invited you to a quiet bar nearby. There, the two of you laughed over shared tapas, his hand grazing yours accidentally-on-purpose, both of you pausing as if holding on to that fleeting touch.

“I didn’t expect to meet someone like you,” he said, his voice softer now, vulnerable in a way that felt rare.

You looked at him, half-smiling, unsure of where this day would lead but already lost in the warmth of his gaze.

Months later

The months after that first meeting were a blur of stolen moments, weekend getaways, and countless whispered confessions. But somehow, you sensed a shift—a silent tremor that grew louder with each passing day. And when Carlos finally asked to meet you at a secluded café, you felt that cold weight settling in your chest.

He was fidgeting with his coffee cup, eyes downcast, his usual confidence absent. “I don’t know how to say this,” he started, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“Just say it, Carlos,” you whispered, though every fiber of you screamed against hearing the words that would come next.

His eyes met yours, filled with a painful honesty. “I… I don’t feel the same way anymore.” His voice cracked, betraying the weight of those words.

The silence was unbearable, heavy with the unspoken memories of every laugh, every kiss, every whispered secret. You struggled to keep your voice steady, but the words tumbled out, raw and desperate. “What happened, Carlos? We were… we were happy. You said you loved me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you knew too well. “I thought I did. I… I don’t know when it changed, but it did.”

You fought back tears, but the hurt was a storm raging inside. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just because you’re… unsure?”

“Por favor, entiéndeme…” he whispered, voice soft but firm. “I can’t stay in something I don’t feel in my heart. It’s not fair to you, either.”

Your anger flared, bitter and sharp. “Fair? Since when did love become about being fair, Carlos? You don’t just stop feeling… not like this.”

He reached for your hand, and you pulled back, his touch too painful to bear. “I wanted this to be forever, you know? I thought we were real.”

Carlos’s face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I did, too. But sometimes…” he paused, searching for words, “sometimes, things change, even if we don’t want them to.”

“Then maybe you should have fought harder,” you whispered, voice broken.

And with that, you left, the echo of his “Lo siento,” fading as you walked away, knowing you’d just left behind a part of yourself that would never fully heal.

Five years later

Five years later, Carlos found himself standing at the edge of that same beach where you’d first met. The memories hit him like waves crashing against rocks, each one sharper than the last. The laughter, the warmth in your eyes, the effortless joy you’d shared—each memory cut deeper, filled with a regret that had settled in his chest like a permanent ache.

The beach looked the same. The sun still blazed down, the waves still rolled in with their familiar rhythm, but something felt off, missing. You weren’t there. And in the empty space where you’d once been, all he could feel was the gnawing weight of regret.

Walking to the bar where you’d shared tapas that night, he slid into the same booth, ordering the same dishes out of some foolish hope that it might summon your memory more fully. “Un vino tinto, por favor,” he muttered absently to the bartender, glancing at the empty seat across from him.

His phone buzzed, and he opened a text from Lando, the only person who knew he was here. “Is this really a good idea, mate?” it read.

Carlos sighed, fingers hovering over the keys as he typed, “I just wanted to remember. I can’t help it.”

Lando’s reply was quick. “A piece of advice, mate, sometimes, memories are best left in the past.”

Carlos leaned back, closing his eyes. If only it were that simple. The truth was, he had never really let go of you. He had moved on, or so he’d told himself, but in the quiet moments, it was your face he still saw, your laugh he still heard, your touch he still craved. He had thought he’d be better off, but now, all these years later, all he could feel was the emptiness that had filled the space you left behind.

Just as Carlos was about to leave, he saw you. You walked into the bar, your hair a little different, your style more mature, but still unmistakably you. And then he saw it—the ring on your finger, glinting faintly in the low light. His heart sank, a bitter taste creeping into his mouth, but he managed a small smile as you spotted him and approached, surprise in your eyes.

“Carlos,” you said, voice soft, almost as if saying his name was too heavy.

“Hola,” he replied, his voice steady though his heart was far from calm.

The conversation started polite, cautious, as if you both were afraid of stepping on the remains of what once was. You shared snippets of your lives, your accomplishments, your families, and he listened, holding onto each word, knowing this was all he’d ever have again.

And then, after a beat, you hesitated, glancing down at your ring. “I’m getting married in a few months,” you said softly.

Carlos forced a smile. "Wow, congratulations,” he said, his voice betraying nothing but the bitterness he felt inside.

He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy, the gnawing regret, but it was impossible. Still, he wasn’t the man to stand in your way, not now, not after he had been the one to walk away all those years ago.

“Maybe we could still be friends,” you offered, your eyes kind, yet distant.

Carlos managed a nod, swallowing hard. “Yes. Friends,” he echoed, the word feeling foreign and wrong on his tongue.

And as you walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder what could have been if he’d only known then what he did now. But for now, this was all he’d have left—the memory of what you once had, fading into the salty breeze as you disappeared from his sight.

[awhoreintheory]

okay so MCU canon Peter in DC is all funny and games but what about comic canon Peter? Peter who’s in his 30s, whose life is falling apart(again) and has clones to deal with(man I hate the fact that Ben became evil :(.)

extra points if Miles and/or Mayday is with him. This single dad is STRUGGLING. And the bats wanna help him/his kids cause man! Look at them :(

(extra extra points if Dick = Richard Parker. That’s a whole nother can of worms. Like the bats are thinking Peter = Family of Dick they didn’t know but NO! It’s actually Dick’s son! Dicks a granddad!)

I want to PSA to anyone sending asks/requests, I'm not ignoring you!! I'm just a slow writer!!! I hope you enjoy though <33

Peter B. Parker could, 100%, picture landing in (yet another) alternate universe. You know what? As a matter of fact, he expected it.

What he didn’t plan for, however, was being stranded in another universe with his baby girl strapped to his chest. 

But here he was, crouched in a narrow alley in the darkest corner of Gotham City, New Jersey. From the name alone, Peter knew he landed himself in a section of the Multiverse Miguel had expressly labeled as off limits. It wasn’t his fault he’d landed here, though!

One minute he’d been web-swinging through New York, enjoying a rare peaceful day with Mayday babbling happily, and the next he was crash-landing onto a grimy rooftop in the most dangerous city he’d ever seen. It was like New York turned up to eleven, all shadows and towering gargoyles, dripping with rain that seemed perpetual. The interdimensional bracelet he’d been given to travel the multiverse was sparking and smoking in his pocket— total toast. He was officially stranded. 

Ok, so it maybe, kinda sorta, been an eensy weensy, tiny bit Peter’s fault. 

Peter’s, very high-tech and likely expensive bracelet had been, uh, scratched in a fight the day before. Barely even a nick! He swears he could’ve reattached the wires and fixed the screen. 

He probably should’ve also taken the watch out of his robe pocket before he started swinging Mayday to daycare. 

MJ was going to be so mad. 

It became evident early on it’d take a little bit to find a way home, or for someone to find him. If it had just been Peter, he could’ve roughed it on some rooves and abandoned buildings. It wouldn’t be a big deal, he knew he would be getting home eventually. Being a little smelly was the least of his worries. 

But he had his baby girl with him. 

So, with the money in his wallet, he found an under-the-counter, rundown but otherwise warm, apartment in a place called Crime Alley. (What a seriously terrible name) Peter started pulling together whatever side gigs he could, fixing appliances, tuning up electronics, just enough to get by. Even for a guy who was used to scraping by, the situation felt bleak, especially with Mayday depending on him. 

His little red-headed whirlwind was still too young to understand what was happening, but she noticed the tension and started clinging to him more tightly. Peter knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but he wasn’t sure how to trust anyone in a city that had both criminals and vigilantes lurking around every corner. When he spotted someone in a cape swinging overhead, he instinctively hid in the shadows, holding Mayday close, her tiny face tucked into his shoulder.

But the Bats noticed him. 

It was hard not to notice a single dad with no records, no job, and no explanation for why he was squatting in Gotham’s most dangerous neighborhood. Bruce, ever vigilant, put out word to the family to keep an eye on him. 

Jason, who patrolled Crime Alley, wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “A guy moved into my turf with a baby?” he grumbled to Tim. “Either he’s got a death wish, or he’s crazy.” 

Tim, on the other hand, was fascinated by the mystery. He dug through every database he had access to, and then some. But “Peter Parker” returned zero results— at least, none that matched this Peter Parker. no criminal record, no birth record, no online footprint. It was like he just spawned in! 

Dick didn’t have a whole lot of opinions. He thought the man was nice, though he had only met him once in a routine mugging. He evidently cared for his daughter, and matched Nightwing’s wit and humor pretty nicely, too. He looked annoyingly familiar too. Maybe it was Tired Dad Chic? He kind of reminded him of Bruce, in a way. 

Steph seconded the funny part. This Peter guy could be one of those dark-humor comedians. 

From what they observed, and conversations supplied by Jason (who was his neighbor in a series of fortunate events), Peter really did seem to just be an ordinary guy.  

Then one night, Peter was picking up groceries from a corner store when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a man in a ski mask brandishing a knife, gesturing for his wallet. 

“Hand over the money, and I won’ hurt ya’ kid.” The man threatened, waving his knife around threateningly. Peter tensed, dropping his groceries in favor of cradling Mayday closer. 

Peter blinked at him tiredly. “The best I can offer is some lint and a can of beans.” 

The man tensed, stepping closer in an attempt at intimidation. Peter thought that his face turning red with anger was kind of funny.

“Don’t fuckin’— are you makin’ fun of me?” The man fumed. Peter might have let out a sleep-deprived chuckle, partially forgetting to respond. 

The mugger lunged, and before he could dodge, Peter felt a searing pain in his side as the blade plunged in, his vision blurring with the shock. Normally, Peter would’ve disarmed the guy without breaking a sweat, but tonight, with Mayday in his arms and his body worn from days of restless sleep, he kind of just… blinked and the knife was there. 

Peter blinked again, then looked back up at the man.

“Oh, wow,” he said, his voice dripping with deadpan sarcasm. “A knife in Crime Alley? Super original. Really, I’m honored to be a part of your creative process.”

The mugger blinked, clearly caught off guard. Peter rolled his eyes, adjusting Mayday to better apply pressure to his side. “Next time you stab a guy, maybe aim for someone with insurance.”

The mugger stumbled back, looking increasingly confused by Peter’s lack of fear. Peter sighed, bouncing Mayday gently as she began to fuss. “Listen, I’m already running on no sleep and the caffeine fumes of yesterday’s coffee. And now you’re just making my night even worse.”

Peter winced, feeling the slow but consistent leak of blood. His healing factor was helping, but it was dulled due to lack of sleep and hunger. 

Between one long blink and the next, someone had jumped down and knocked out Peter’s would-be mugger. 

After another blink Peter realized he was on the ground, Mayday’s wails filled the air, her cries echoing down the alleyway, and Peter tried to smile through the pain. “It’s okay, baby,” he mumbled, clutching her tightly. “Daddy’s fine… just a little… scratch.” But his vision was going hazy as he pressed a hand to his bleeding side. The world began to spin.

One of the vigilantes that Peter recognized as Red Robin rushed over, talking hurriedly into a comm. Peter blinked up at him, his mouth curling into a weak smile. “Hey, nice costume,” he muttered. “Does the utility belt come in dad sizes?” 

Red Robin blinked in surprise, but otherwise keept his focus as he worked to stop the bleeding.

“It doesn’t, unfortunately.” Red Robin offered, popping open his emergency med kit. “I’ve got help on the way, ok? Stay awake for me.” But his attention was snagged when Mayday, overcome with distress, reached out to him, her tiny hands gripping his arm. She wasn’t just clutching it— she was sticking to him, her fingers locked like suction cups on his suit. Tim’s eyes widened as she scrambled up his arm, scaling it like a bug on a wall. 

Red Robin took it in stride, scooping Mayday up as he continued to work. Peter had been on the Meta radar for a bit— a few things here and there just a little off, and it was mostly based on Red Robin’s time spent with super-powered individuals. 

But as he patched up Peter, he discreetly swiped a sample of blood, stashing it in his belt just as the Batmobile pulled up. 

—

Later that night, he ran the sample through the Batcomputer, expecting some small lead. A Meta, possibly insect-based? What with how the kid had stuck to him. Instead, the results left Tim absolutely speechless. 

Peter Parker, the man who was in his early 40s and a single father, didn’t just match someone in the system— it matched Dick Grayson.

Not as a brother, or a cousin, but as a son. 

Tim must’ve ran the test at least 100 times. It came back the same every single time. 

Tim called Bruce and the rest of the family, each of them crowding around the screen with varying levels of shock and amusement as the analysis rolled in. Dick was dumbfounded, staring at the results in disbelief. 

“You’re telling me this guy is my… son?” he stammered, struggling to wrap his mind around it. 

Bruce, socially unaware in all his glory, tried to comfort Dick. “He’s likely from far into the future. Barry said there was a ripple in the timestream around the time Peter showed up.” 

“So what does that make Mayday?” Jason asked, snickering. 

“His granddaughter?” Steph said with a teasing grin. 

“Wow, Dick. You went from a dad to a grandpa in the same minute.” 

“That’s gotta be a world record.”

“You think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record?”

Dick groaned, rubbing his temples as Jason laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“He’s from the future, right? Something must’ve gone wrong on his end," Tim said, folding his arms with a thoughtful look. "He’s definitely got the skills. Moves like you, Dick. It's obvious he's had training.”

Dick couldn't help but smirk, puffing up a little with pride. “Of course he does. He’s got Grayson blood in him, after all.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, because the whole ‘falling on his face with a baby strapped to him’ bit? So graceful.”

Tim rolled his eyes, trying to stay on track. “Look, I don’t know why he didn’t come to us for help in the first place, but the point is, he’s family. We should get him back to his time, if that’s even possible.” He looked over to Bruce. “Are any speedsters available? Maybe the League could lend us Wally or Barry—"

“Hold on,” Dick interrupted, frowning. “I’m not sure we’re ready to ship him off just yet. The guy’s been trying to make it on his own. He’s got a baby to look after, and I think he’s afraid of dragging us into whatever’s going on with him. You know this family and their pride.”

Damian, who had been silent up to this point, finally piped up, his arms crossed. “I’ve seen him with the baby. She’s… persistent.” There was an almost begrudging respect in his tone. “But he clearly doesn’t have the resources to keep her safe here. If he did, he wouldn’t be living in Crime Alley.”

Dick nodded. “Exactly. The guy’s holding it together with duct tape and dad jokes. We can help him and get him back on his feet while we figure out a way home.”

Bruce, listening intently, finally spoke up. “He’s right. Until we find a way to get him home, Peter and his daughter stay here. We’ll pull together whatever resources we can to help them both.” 

Steph and Tim shared a look. He just wanted to meet his grandson and great-granddaughter. 

There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed the decision, and then Tim looked at Dick, a small smirk playing on his lips. “So… you ready to be a dad, Dick?”

Dick flushed, looking a mix of horrified and pleased. “I’ll just stick to ‘Uncle Dick’ for now. Baby steps.”

EXTRA:

“Hey,” Jason drawled, barely suppressing a smirk as he looked over at Dick, “you think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record? Fastest unplanned parenthood, or maybe most confusing family reunion?”

Dick rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Very funny, Jay. Maybe we can submit you for most inappropriate comments per minute.”

Jason chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just saying, man, it’s impressive. One day you’re Nightwing, lone acrobat extraordinaire, and the next? Boom— you’re the proud father of a scruffy, interdimensional— what'd you say it was, Tim? Spider-dad? A Spider-dad.”

Tim snickered, glancing up from his laptop. “We’re all just living in a 'Strangest Family Reunion’ reality show at this point. Besides, if anyone’s submitting to Guinness, it should be Peter for most relentless optimism under terrible circumstances.”

Bruce cleared his throat, giving them all a look. “Enough. This isn’t a joke. We have a situation to handle here.”

Dick, still grinning, turned back to Bruce. “All right, fine, we’ll save the record-breaking for later. Right now, I say we start by finding this guy and getting him some real help.”

[cutieebabyy]

i miss you, i’m sorry - k.b

summary: you and katsuki broke up due to his upcoming career as a hero. you’ve just released your debut album and got invited to a well-known event to sing and discuss the new album. little do you know, your classmates would be there with your one and only ex-boyfriend.

pairings: aged up!katsuki x singer!reader (they’re in like their last year of hs.)

“so, y/n, about your upcoming album, we’ve just been dying to ask, but is this inspired by a certain someone?” i narrow my eyes at the question the interviewer asks. i was expecting this, but i still can’t hide the shock on my face. what is it with nosy people wanting to constantly butt into my life? i’m not stupid. i know exactly what she’s implying. she wants to know if my debut album is inspired by my breakup with katsuki. technically, it is, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“more or less. i guess that’s for me to know and for you to find out.” the audience “ooh”’s and i smirk. “well, there you have it, folks! now, while we go on a little break, i dare you to jam out to y/n’s single, ‘i miss you, i’m sorry!’”

the cameras temporarily shut off as an ad plays and i get up prepare on stage with my band. “you guys ready?” i ask them. one of them chuckles, “nervous, but definitely ready.”

“it’s okay to be nervous. i am too.”

“we all know why.” he winks. “i’m nervous because this is one of my first times singing in front of an audience like this and this is live, not because of him.”

“yeah, right.” he replies. i’m about to come up with a snarky reply when my manager walks up to all of us. “you all ready? cameras turn back in 20.”

“minutes?”

“seconds.”

“crap.” i mutter. i plaster a smile on my face and turn around towards the cheering crowd. i grasp the mic and then i hear my manager in my ear piece, counting down the seconds left to start.

“3, 2, 1…aaaaand, we’re live.”

the interview grins. “as you all know, we’ve got the y/n l/n here, ready to perform a single from her debut album, so here goes nothing! break a leg, y/n.” she laughs before the cameras turn to me and the lights dim enough for them to see me and my band.

i inhale a shaky breath, scanning the crowd. “do you remember happy together? i do, don’t you? then, all of a sudden, you’re sick to your stomach. is that still true?” me and everybody here knows exactly who this song is directed to and as the lyrics flee my throat, i don’t dare to hide my anger, but most of all, my heartbreak and love that i somehow still have for him.

katsuki and i were perfect together. we were always together, no matter what. he didn’t care what people thought of us. he didn’t care that his friends teased him for being in love. he didn’t care about how different our goals were in life…until he did.

we broke up last year. or, well, he broke up with me last year. spewed some lies about us not seeing things the same and it wouldn’t work out in the long run. i just don’t understand. he always knew that my long life goal was to pursue a career in the music industry. i made it clear from the very beginning. sure, i was in the hero course and everything, but i didn’t want to be a hero. i did it so my parents would lay off of me already. and, well, it’s too late to back out now since we graduate this year.

and even though, he broke my heart and stepped all over it, i still have immense love for him.

“you said forever, in the end, i fought it. please, be honest, are we better for it? thought you’d hate me, but instead you called and said, i miss you, i caught it…”

a little bit after we broke up, he called me in the late hours of the night. for some reason, i picked up. i couldn’t decline the call, knowing he’d been on a mission that night with best jeanist. i was worried something had happened to him. the moment i heard him utter those words, that he missed me, i was shook to my core. i was frozen. it’s like i couldn’t breath and the words wouldn’t escape my throat. i wanted to, so badly, beg him to come back to me— that i missed him too.

instead, i hung up on him. i begged for him to come back once and he still left, i made a vow to myself that i’d never do it again— no matter how much i wanted to.

“good to each other, give it the summer. i knew, you too. but i only saw you once in december. i’m still confused.”

my heart clenches as the words spill from my mouth. i remember writing this song, a few months after we broke up. i remember sitting up against my bed, every night, wondering why he broke up with me, and i couldn’t control myself as i picked up my songbook and wrote every single thing i felt. this entire album is exactly how i felt when he broke up with me.

my eyes don’t leave the crowd once. i’m about to open my mouth to sing the next verse, but the words get clogged in my throat when my eyes connect with the burning ones i dream about. the ones that belong in distant memories and not in the present. he’s not alone, though. he’s with our— his friends. denki, kirishima, mina, and sero.

“you said, forever, and i almost bought it. i miss fightin’ in your dorm, breakin’ things when you’re disappointed. i still love you, i promise. nothin’ happened in the way i wanted. every corner of this school is haunted. and i know you said that we’re not talkin’, but i miss you, i’m sorry.” i don’t take my eyes off of him, making sure that i mean every single word that leaves my mouth. i still love him and i miss him.

i wish i was good enough for him. was i not pretty enough? he used to tell me i was beautiful. he used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear after our limbs entangled in our sheets. he used to stare at me and smile when i caught him. he used to play with my hair when he was bored or when he was reading.

“i don’t wanna go, think i’ll make it worse. everything i know brings me back to us. i don’t wanna go, we’ve been here before. everywhere i go leads me back to you.”

as i keep repeating the lyrics, my mind drifts to all the times he’d wrap his arms around me and told me i was the greatest thing that ever happened to him— how he promised to love me forever. i remember our shared kisses— how we’d lay down on our sides and stare at each other until the other grew tired. and now, he’s just a stranger i know everything about.

i know how his eyes crinkle when he laughs. i know he’s not as cruel as everybody makes him out to be. i know how bad his anxiety gets and how he needs to go on walks sometimes to calm down. i know how he secretly like chamomile tea and listens to conan gray when he trains.

i know everything about him.

i finally tear my eyes away from him as the audience cheers. i bow and wave before heading backstage to my dressing room.

the next few days are a blur. millions of tweets are being posted about my album and my performance, but more specifically, the look katsuki and i shared as i performed.

a few days ago i was performing in one of the most popular venues, getting interviewed by one of the most famous interviewers, and now i’m sitting in class, studying to be a hero. my friends congratulate me and sing their favorite songs off of the album. and i grin.

my eyes drift to the boy in the corner of the classroom who’s staring right back at me. he doesn’t hide it either. instead, he throws his his head back and continues to stare at me through half-lidded eyes.

“y/n, you’re, like, crazy famous now!” mina exclaims. “no, i’m not.” i chuckle, shyly. “girl, do not play with me! look at this. you’re blowing up!”

she scrolls through a few of the posts until she lands on one of katsuki. it’s a picture of him at the venue. i think he’s looking at me. the photo is captioned, no way he’s looking at her like that when he was the one who broke her heart.

ochaco gasps. “is that…bakugo?”

mina rapidly nods. “yeah, we tricked him into going. he didn’t know y/n was performing and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.”

“ha, bakugo has haters now. it’s about time. i’ve seen too many edits of him. he’s stealing all the chicks, man.” denki says.

“he can’t help that he’s so manly!” kirishima cries, clutching a hand to his chest. “right, bakubro?” he yells.

katsuki rolls his eyes. “shut up.”

“when are you performing again, y/n?!” mina asks, excitedly. luckily, no one brings katsuki up again and nobody mentions anything about the break up. after katsuki and i broke up, everybody was extremely shocked and they didn’t get over it for months— they still aren’t— but i couldn’t take them talking about how cute we were all the time, so i made them swear not to talk about our relationship around me anymore.

luckily, they listened.

“probably after graduation. might be going on tour. i dunno.” i shrug.

“tour?!?!?! our precious y/n is getting out there. you better remember us when you’re all rich and famous!” mina says.

“i will.” i tell them. and i mean it.

hours later, when the sun sets and everybody is asleep, i make my way toward the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. i can’t sleep tonight for some reason. my heart aches and i feel like i can’t breathe. i wish i could be in his arms again. i wish i could feel what it’s like to be loved again— truly loved.

as i’m preparing my tea, i hear a soft grumble behind me. his soft grumble. “that song was about me, wasn’t it?”

i freeze. “what?”

“the one from the other day.” he says. i feel him take a step closer, his shadow looming over me. my back is turned to him, so i can’t see him, but i can feel him. “it is, isn’t it?”

“what do you care if it is?” i don’t mean to snap at him, but the anger i’ve held in for so long— i’m unable to stop it.

“you miss me. and you still love me. i know you do because i love you.” my breath hitches. “katsuki, please, don’t do this to me.” i turn around and push him away from me so i can escape his suffocating presence.

“y/n.” his voice breaks and i feel my walls crumbling. his rough, calloused hand wraps around my wrist. “please.” that one word is what has me turning around and finally looking at him. he looks everything but okay and i just want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything will be okay and that i’m here for him.

“what do you want me to say to that, katsuki? i still love you? because i do! with everything in me! but you left me! you left me when i needed you most. because of what— my career choice? sorry, i’m not good enough for you.” i scoff.

his grip tightens around my wrist. “i broke up with you because it wasn’t going to work out. you know that.”

“how the hell do i know that if we never even tried?!”

“it wasn’t going to work. i’m not good enough for you, i was going to end up breaking your heart sooner or later— we both know that.”

“no, because before you did what you did, i never thought that you’d be the one to break my heart. you told me you loved me.”

“i did— i do.” he corrects.

“then, why did you do it? why did you break up with me? and don’t give me that stupid excuse about it not working out.”

he sighs. “come on, y/n. you know me. i’m messed up. i always have been and i always will be. there’s nothing good about me. and you? you’re perfect. look at you. you’re blossoming and you’re growing and i can’t be the one to hold you back.”

and this is where my anger ends. i take a step closer. “‘suki, you’re not messed up. and even if you are, who cares? we all are. even our perfect little class president iida is messed up. i love you— perfect or imperfect, good or bad. i love you. you’re not going to hold me back because you’re growing too. katsuki, you’re going to be a hero soon. you’re already going on missions. hell, you’ve even got fan pages for you. my point is that you’re everything i ever wanted. all i want is you.”

he doesn’t say anything.

neither do i.

i place my hands on his biceps and reach up to peck his lips. it’s awkward at first and he doesn’t kiss me back. but when i pull away, his hand wraps around the back of my neck and his lips crash onto mine. and it’s then that i realize that katsuki and i’s story never ended, and it never will because for as long as i live, i will love this man like breathing. his tongue delves into my mouth and i gasp at the fierceness he doesn’t dare to hold back. i feel the pain he’s held in for so long and i also feel the time we lost.

“i love you.” he mumbles softly as he pulls away.

[soleilchanson]

Ex bf Price who was your first and knows everything about your body sees you with your new boyfriend for the first time and can’t help but get jealous MDNI

Note: AFAB reader referred to as she/her. Not proofread. Still editing.

NSFW content - mentions of sex and sexual experiences. No direct smut

Masterlist

Price hated weddings. The unnecessary crying, large centerpieces, fancy food that tasted like nothing but cream and butter, and dancing. He hated all of it.

However, if you asked him about his opinions on weddings five months ago, he would’ve gone on and on about how he loves weddings.

Why the change of opinion? Because you broke up with him. He had been with a lot of women before but only you had managed to create large tremors in his heart and mind.

He didn’t show it but he was a complete mess after breaking up. Had a sour attitude, picked a fight with anyone within a six foot radius, and drank like a sailor. It only took him five months to finally stop associating your favorite things with you. Five months of pure torture is what the 141 called it.

The five months where hell ascended to the surface.

And now the squad was afraid it would happen again. After the break up, you happened to get very friendly with Kyle. The two of you kept close contact throughout so he naturally invited you to his wedding. What he wasn’t expecting was for your current boyfriend to be in the army as well. Just not as well known.

Price was going to lose his mind.

“I’m a grown man. Quit tryin’ to distract me. I know she’s here with someone.” The commander scoffed as Simon and Soap tried their best to hide you and your boyfriend from his view.

Of course, he knew you were with someone. He had eyes and ears everywhere including your current boyfriend’s team. He knew the bugger had quite the history with women and specifically went after you because you had little experience. Lucky for the captain, your boyfriend didn’t know that he was your ex.

Price couldn’t peel his eyes away from you from the beginning of the ceremony till dinner time. You look ravishing in your outfit. He remembered how you would always ask him to zip your dresses up and you both would end up arriving late to events because he would do the opposite.

He noticed how you wore the earrings he got you, giving him hope that somewhere in your heart you still wanted to be with him.

After the ceremony, the women gathered in their own separate area, sitting with the bride and asking her about the wedding and taking a few candid photos. The men had mostly dispersed to the bar or outside the wedding hall for a smoke break. The entirety of the 141 squad left with Kyle for a smoke, probably to enjoy his last few moments before he left for his honeymoon. But Price didn’t like corny goodbyes so he stayed behind.

He sipped his whiskey, reminiscing about his own dreams of getting married until he heard boisterous laughing coming from a group approaching his side of the bar.

It was your ex. Price knew his name but preferred to call him Dick when he thought of him. He chose his last name as Head. He could overhear Dick talk about his new girlfriend and Price immediately directed all his attention towards them. Discreetly of course. He was still facing the bartender so it seemed like he was uninterested.

“I’m telling you, mate, she is so easy to please. All I need to do fuck her and she climaxes. It’s fucking insane.” Dick bragged as he took a swig of his beer. Price had a small smile on his face. He knew some lousy fucking could never get you off.

“I know you didn’t come last night. Don’t lie to me.” Price said as he cuddled with you on your shared bed. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” You sheepishly replied. “Next time you don’t feel satisfied, I want you to tell me.” He pulled away and straddled you. “Now let me make it up to you the right way, yeah?” He said as he lifted your tank top and began kissing down your abdomen.

“She doesn’t even beg me to do anything. I can do whatever I want. It’s heaven.” Price wanted to laugh out loud. You? Not saying what you wanted? Sounds like Dick was sleeping with a total stranger.

“John, please, I need you in me. I can’t take any more of this teasing.” You groaned against his neck. Price chose to ignore you and kept rubbing his fingers around your entrance. “Come on, darling, you can be a little patient.” You huffed in anger and rolled on top of him. “Either you fuck me like I asked or I’ll ride you so hard you’ll forget your name.” You snapped. Price smiled knowing that neither of you were going to wake up early the next day.

“She also hates all that aftercare shit which is good because I’m fucking beat after all that work.” This guys was a ball of grease. Price wondered how you met him but chose to find out the answer later.

You were laying on Price’s chest after a particularly rough session. His hand played with your hair as your eyelids grew heavy. You had this habit of going non verbal after sex so you could recover your mental energy as well. Price understood and respected that so he’d hold you as you regained your strength. It was your own little heaven with him. Sometimes he’d bring you warm tea and snacks to rejuvenate, other times he’d lightly massage your shoulders as you’d sleep on top of him.

It was confirmed- you did not give a fuck about Dick and he was a rebound. Price laughed loudly and all the men in the group beside him turned. He got off the bar stool and walked to Dick. He placed his hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder and held it with a firm grip.

“Hope you get the message.” He said before sarcastically chuckling and walking away.

“The fuck is he on about?” He heard Dick murmur while he headed to where you were sitting with the women.

You seem surprised to see him but walked to a corner away from the wedding hall.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you close enough to smell the whiskey in his breath. “I believe you and I need to have a conversation.”

-•-

Didn’t like Price’s character when I first learned about him and look at me now. Maybe I’ll write a part 2, idk I like surprising people.

[hihomeghere]

Right Person, Wrong Time / John Marston x reader

Summary : You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? Warnings/tags : Hate fucking, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, slapping, choking, hair pulling, biting breasts, unrequited loveish, John being an awful parent, slight Abigail x John, reader x John, reader becomes a parent figure it Jack, angst, no happy ending Word count : 2.5k

You supposed fate had it out for you. To dangle John in front of you like it did. Two scrappy street kids raised alongside each other. Like two starving dogs fighting for scraps, you were always at each other's throats. Arthur could hardly stand one of you at a time, but the two of you together had him damn near tearing his hair out. 

The old guard had hoped that once the two of you got older, things wouldn’t be so volatile around camp. But the churning hormones inside the two of you only poured gasoline on the fire that was you and John. 

Dutch and Hosea quickly learned that the two of you couldn’t be trusted to work a job together. That job ended in your first wanted poster going up in Armadillo. John tore one down and kept putting it up around camp, much to everyone’s disapproval. 

Hosea said it was because the two of you were too alike. Forced out on your own, fighting to survive in a dog eat dog world. Stuck in this rivalry that you had created. Dutch had seen it before anyone else had, the smoldering fire inside you that yearned for John’s spark. 

But then Abigail came along. You hated her. Hated her pretty eyes, soft lips, more than anything you hated how John couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was just a working girl, you had seen hundreds of working girls come and go but she… she stayed. She stayed and for some reason John couldn’t stay away from her. 

Always sitting next to her around the campfire, looking at her with that stupid lovesick look. It made you sick. So instead of facing the fact that stupid John Marston was in love with someone who wasn’t you, you ran. 

You packed in the dead of night, like a coward, and ran off. It was harder on your own and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed the gang. More than anything you missed John. But you were stubborn, you wanted to prove to yourself that you didn’t need them, didn’t need him. 

It was fate when Arthur found you running a con on some rich folk. Asked you to come back, just for ‘one night’. You went back with him, knowing that this ‘one night’ would turn into many nights. Dutch and Hosea welcomed you back with open arms, something you hadn’t been expecting after being gone so long. Although your loyalty had never been with the gang, it was always with John. 

Although John was gone, like two ships passing in the night. Had run off about a week earlier from what Arthur had said. Leaving Abigail and his son. His son. 

A tiny boy with brown hair and eyes, barely a year old. Poor Abigail, the girl was a wreck. Dealing with her son and his piece of shit father. 

You don’t know why you attached yourself to them, stepping in and acting as a second parent to Jack. Perhaps you felt like you owed it to them, that you had harbored so much hate in you over a foolish man. A foolish man that had everything he could want and threw it away. Deep down you knew that it was for a more selfish reason. You felt close to John in some awful way when you were around Abigail and Jack. You saw so much of John in him, in his gummy smile. When he would laugh, deep in his belly. 

The little boy had captured your heart, just like his father. 

You knew that Abigail knew, knew the feelings you harbored for the father of her son. You supposed that everyone knew why you ran off. Ironic that you returned when the prodigal son had left. 

“I don’t hold it against you.” She said one day, breaking the silence between the two of you as you did your chores.

“Pardon?” You asked, looking up at her.

“John.” She said simply, her blunt words made your mouth run dry. “I don’t hold it against you. If that’s why you’re- you’re bein’ so kind. I don’t need charity.” She pursed her lips, hanging up a shirt on the line. 

“It ain’t charity I-“ You worked your jaw as you looked down, “I care for your son. I care for Jack. Hell I- I consider you a friend. Unless I’m oversteppin’?” You raised your eyes to meet her icy gaze.

“I’d like to be your friend.” She said, although her gaze didn’t soften.

And then one day the bastard returned. You didn’t know who was more mad, you or Arthur. He reached him before you did, slamming him up against a nearby tree. 

“You yellow bellied-“

“The hell you doin’!”

“Boys!” Dutch’s voice cut through their growls, striding over to all three of you. Your jaw was clenched so hard your teeth ached as you stared John down. As much as you hated to admit it, part of you was glad to see him. His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him. His dark raven locks down to his shoulders. Your stomach twisted as his eyes landed on you. You turned, stalking away from the men as Dutch began a speech to ‘calm’ the men down. 

Abigail was seething, bouncing Jack in her arms as she paced. 

“Want me to take him so you can kick his ass?” You asked, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

“Please.” She huffed, handing him off as she stormed over to him. A small bit of satisfaction filling you as her open palm connected to his cheek. You turned your gaze back to Jack, reminding your traitorous heart what really mattered. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before John cornered you. The sun had set and you were getting ready for bed when he stopped by your tent.

“You’re back.” His gravely voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“So are you.” You huffed, keeping your back to him as you set your guns down.

“Why’d you come back?” His words sent liquid fire through your veins.

“Why’d you leave?” You hissed, spinning around to face him. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you?”

“Don’t give me that.” He scoffed, looking away from him.

“Excuse me? You have a family John.”

“And you didn’t?” He growled, his teeth bared like a wild dog. “You just packed up your shit and walked out on us, on all of us.”

“You don’t get to be mad over this.” You seethed, pointing your finger in his face. “We are not the same.”

“Oh sweetheart we’re the same kind of screwed up.” He sneered, holding his arms out. 

“No we ain’t.” You shoved him backwards, “I was here when it mattered. When your son said his first word, when he walked for the first time. I was there.”

“Oh congratulations, parent of the damn year.” 

“You ran cause you got scared, you damn coward.” You hissed, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

“And what’s your excuse hm? We all know why you ran.” His words made your blood run cold.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know everything about you.” He said closing the distance between the two of you. “I know you ran cause you couldn’t stand not havin’ me.” You clenched your jaw, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work John.” He caught your wrist as you turned. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” He pulled you closer, an iron grip of your wrist. His dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re wrong.” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Really?” He asked, his voice raising in volume. He surged forward, crashing his lips against yours. It took you a minute to respond, your heart and head at war. Your palms pushed against his chest as he stumbled backwards. His lips parted as he stared down at you. You surged forward, pulling him towards you by his collar. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance. 

You parted, your lips swollen as you tore at his clothes. He got the memo quickly, undoing his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clang. Halfway undressed he pounced on you like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere and yet your body craved more, more, more. 

Your hands threaded through his hair. Grabbing a chunk near the nape of his neck as you pulled his head back. His eyes caught yours in the low light of the lantern, his teeth glinting as his lips pulled back in a wolfish grin. 

“Your bark is a helluva lot worse than your bite.” He huffed, holding your hips in a near bruising grip. You clenched your jaw, liquid fire rushing through your veins. “Tell me you don’t want this, don’t want me.” He taunted, panting as you tighten your grip on his hair. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” You spat.

“And what does that make you, sweetheart?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. You tugged at the base of his skull, a low groan leaving his lips as he laughed. He walked you backwards, your calves hitting your cot. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, feeling his hot breath waft across your face.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His mouth was back on yours, his fingers moved with precision as he unbuttoned your shirt. He roughly grabbed your breast, swallowing the low whine he pulled from you. He pushed you down onto your cot, slotting himself between your legs. He made quick work of undressing you, muttering to himself. “All hot and bothered- you think you’re so damn special don’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Like you ain’t much better golden boy.” You growled, tugging at his union suit, hoping he’d get the message. He did, pulling his arms out and kicking the fabric off as you finished undressing. 

You had pictured this exchange happening differently in your head more times than you wanted to admit. In your mind, your first time with John was slow. Each of you would take time to worship each other's bodies. Mapping out each scar and blemish, committing them to memory. Soft kisses trailed along your skin, words of affection passing between your lips. 

As he kicked off his union suit, his cock sprang up against his stomach. The tip red and weeping between his legs. His hand closed around your ankle, yanking you down the cot, closer to him. His hand cupped your mound, his finger trailing down your slit. You hated to give him the satisfaction as he found you slick with desire. He ducked his head, biting at your breast. You gasped as he ran his tongue over the teeth marks before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Act like such a damn brat,” He said, pulling off with a loud pop, “Now look at ya, just drippin for me.” Your face burned as he ran his finger through your folds. Your open palm connected with his cheek. His head snapping away from you, your own hand stinging as you pulled back. He let out a low chuckle, hanging his head. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pushing them up against your chest. Folding you in half as he lined himself up with your entrance. He drove into you, knocking the air out of your lungs with a squeak.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He hissed in pain and pleasure as you raked your nails down his back. He ruts into you like some animal, his lips parted and swollen as he huffed. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle any traitorous moans. The dark patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Your whole body felt ablaze as he pounded relentlessly into you. The sound of skin on skin echoing through the small tent. His heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. Your cunt ached as he carved out a space for himself inside you, reaching places you didn’t think possible. 

Blood roared in your ears as you’re dragged closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Your eyes rolling back into your head as your body is propelled up the cot with each thrust. His hand closed around your throat, squeezing slightly and you’re gone.

Wave after wave wash over you as you writhe under him. Mewling as your legs shook on either side of his shoulders, your head felt fuzzy as his hips stuttered. 

“Shit don’t-“ He bit his lip, “I can’t-“ He pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. He slammed back into you, his chest sticking to your back with sweat as he laid over you. His arms on either side of your head as he held himself up. 

“Fuck John!” You cried out, biting down on your lip. Your body was ablaze as his hand pressed your face into the cot. 

“God damn-“ He groaned through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips stuttered. Pouring himself into you as he collapsed on top of you. 

Both of your breaths filled the air, your chest heaving as he rolled off of you. He left you empty and leaking onto your cot, although that was the least of your worries.

You just fucked John, well technically he fucked you. But Abigail… Abigail and Jack. God if she found out you’d never be able to earn her trust back. John let out a long sigh, running his hand over his face. A smirk tugging on his lips as he looked over at you. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you felt his cum drip out of you. You got up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them at him. He caught them and held them against his chest, his brows furrowing as he looked up at you. 

“The hell are you doing darlin’?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” You huffed, stepping into your bloomers. “This- this was a mistake. You know it, I know it, shit you have a family, John. Abigail, Jack-“

“Is that what this is about?” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he sat on the edge of the cot. “They’re in the past.”

“No!” You snapped, “They’re right here in this fucking camp! Waiting for you.”

“Who knows if the boy is even mine-“ He started, throwing up his hand.

“Oh don’t pull that horseshit, we all know he’s your son.” You scoffed, buttoning up your shirt. “God I’m a fool.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Guilt settling over you like a blanket. “Get out.”

“What?” He asked, his eyes finding yours.

“This was a mistake.” You said shaking your head, “You may not have any loyalty but I do. I- This never happened.” His jaw clenched, anger burning in his eyes as he roughly dressed himself. He stopped next to you, staring you down.

“So this is it?” He scoffed, shaking his head as you didn’t respond. Your arms crossed as you hung your head in shame. “Unbelievable.” He muttered as he stormed past you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he left your tent.

You sat down on the edge of your cot, putting your head in your hands. Hating yourself for being so damn weak, hating yourself for enjoying it, hating yourself for your undeniable feelings for him.

What had you done?

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Really underrated moment of DSMP is when Tommy tells the story of L’manburg + Pogtopia to Ghostbur.

It was the day before Tommy was exiled, and Tommy—nervous about what could happen and desperate to win Tubbo over—roped together a small group of people to help him craft a Drug to give to Tubbo, as a gift. Ghostbur was one of those people, and as Tommy rowed the two of them in a boat over to where they needed to be, Tommy told Ghostbur a story. Tommy made it sound almost fairytale-ish; he knew Ghostbur struggled to hold onto information, so he made the story sound fanciful and almost childish, because he wanted Ghostbur to take it in. Tommy didn’t even use the words “L’manburg” “Tommy” “Wilbur” or anything else that would give away Exactly What Story He Was Telling; instead he was making it sound like just a story. Not history, necessarily, but a story. That’s what Tommy thought would help Ghostbur understand better.

Minutes go by, and as soon as Tommy finally finishes his story, Ghostbur immediately says, “that sounds like the story of L’manburg.”

And Tommy stops, and says, “oh” because he hadn’t expected that, had he? He thought that Ghostbur couldn’t understand things like that. He even started to say as much, before Ghostbur interrupted him, saying, “I’m not stupid.”

Ghostbur then further explained exactly what he struggled to remember (bad things) but that he remembers and can understand other things extremely well, and is in fact familiar with a large portion of L’manburg’s story.

I find this moment very interesting for a lot of reasons. It’s insightful to hear Tommy tell the story, and hear how he himself views a lot of the events in the server’s history, and it’s incredibly fascinating to listen to his & Ghostbur’s exchange once the story is finished. Tommy told the story because he misunderstood Ghostbur’s memory issues/ability to understand & process information, and it ended up making Ghostbur feel like Tommy was speaking down to him, or treating him as if he was dumb or stupid. Tommy wasn’t trying to be mean, he wasn’t trying to make Ghostbur feel bad, but that’s what ended up happening. And instead of getting angry about this, Ghostbur instead helped Tommy understand that he can hold onto memories, he can hold onto information, he can learn and he can take things in and he can remember. He’s not stupid.

I think this is one of my favorite interactions between Ghostbur & Tommy. The communication and care they have for each other is insane, and honestly rare in media. Their friendship is in my opinion one of the best friendships in the whole series, and it’s a shame that it’s not talked about super often.

[porrabett]

Rio, Nicholas and Agatha through time

There’s something that I noticed about Rio and Nicholas, that I really can’t understand why, maybe someone can see some foreshadowing or meaning on it, I don’t know.

They gave Rio a birthmark, and I noticed this birthmark just shows up in the scene before Nicholas birth. Aubrey Plaza don’t have it, so they really put it on her for the scene and for this scene only.

After it, when she comes to get Nicky’s soul and in the present moment, she doesn’t have it anymore. I thought that they would put some birthmark on Nicholas in a way to show he is Rio’s son too, but that’s none birthmark in the baby. And even with Nicholas as a 6 years old, he has three birthmarks on his face, but in different spots, it seems more is just because the actor already had it, not about Rio. It really made me curious why they would put this birthmark in her, and just in that moment.

Second, and just to keep moving the “Rio is Nichola’s mom too” train. I think she really would meet him at night, or maybe in some moments he was alone, like when Agatha was killing the witches with The road scam.

I think in the moment of the two goodbye kisses, not just was something Rio already talked to him, so he knew what he needed to do, but the kisses were giving by his soul.

They way that Rio was there and he just goes in her direction, like is something he already did others nights.

Rio interrupts him going to her and points back to Agatha, and she does it in a affectionate way, like a mother remembering her son something she has already told before.

He looks at Agatha and then stops, like he was think in something, like Rio has already prepared him for this moment, and he knew exactly what he needed to do. As if Rio has told him that in one specifically day, when she would visit him, he would say goodbye to his mama before he would go with his mother. And we can see that there is no hesitation, fear or doubt, he just stops, like he is remebering something he was told, and then goes to do what he already knew he would had to.

And then the two kisses scene, it really looks like he is giving two goodbye kisses, one for him and the other for Rio. And it seems like Nicky’s mouth is barely touching Agatha’s cheeks, I think in this moment we maybe are seeing his soul, ready to go.

Just a curious thing, even with Rio and Agatha not being together, Rio still is more in her Green Witch energy, like she knows that even giving Agatha more time, in the end, Nicky will come with her, because his time there was a borrowed time. I think she thought Agatha would understand that, with some time, what she made, and she said it in 1x08.

But we know that didn’t happened, a mother will always want to be with her son, and is a cruel irony that Agatha lost him for Rio, the person who took him away, and because of Rio, as he is most likely Death’s son too, almost like he was born to die.

I believe everytime they would meet again, when Agatha was killing other witches after Nicky’s death, they would fight, Agatha would throw all her sorrow and pain in Rio, Rio would fight for her, and they would make out, or at least reconnect for a moment, like in 1x04.

But then Agatha would leave, almost like she was torturing Rio, denying to Rio the person she loves, the same way Rio denied to Agatha, to be with their son.

I feel this happened again an again through decades, giving an even more dark and complex energy to their relationship, and for them as individuals. The Rio we met in present time is way darker than the one we see in the flashbacks. Then Agatha got the darkhold and hid from her, until Weastview.

That would explain Agatha’s reaction to Rio acepting the deal with her, in 1x08, she wasn’t expecting Rio would say ok, she probably was used to throw all her tantrums to Rio and Rio trying to make amends with it. But not this time, Rio had enough, so Agatha has her surprise face, and the pain, like she feels, for the first time, Rio is giving up on her.

But at the same time she masks it quickly, and we can see she is almost loosing the control over her emotions. Later, with Billy and Jen, she is on full villain mode because Rio let her there, and she still can get out of the road. Rio is the constant in her life, since Salem, no matter what happens, how much they fight, love or hate eachother. They always find themselves in each other’s path.

And we know how this ends.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

I Know You Didn't Sign On For This

Season Three Episode Five (Midseason finale)

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 5342

Series Masterlist

Summary: A killer returns in his efforts to torment Aaron. Forced to stay behind, the reader must grapple with the possibility of loss. 

Notes: To be fair… I did warn you. When I began this series, I realized that I’d have to do this episode because of the time frame I laid out and man, did it hurt to finally get here. This is a doozy, but I hope you guys like it. I actually had a really good time writing it (is that bad haha?) Also, I decided to split up this season so that I could work on part two while part one was posting. I’m hoping to have part two done by January. (fingers crossed) Thank you guys for all the love! 

-

After

You couldn’t look her in the eye, not without wanting to tear her apart. She pressed record. 

“Let’s start with why you were unofficially brought in to accompany the team in their pursuit of a dangerous fugitive.” 

“Don’t.” 

Strauss clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “Don’t what, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another civilian.” 

“You are not a federal agent and you did not have the clearance nor the authority to be on that search.” 

“The only safe place for me was with the team and you know it.” You wanted to scream, wanted to throw something, wanted to slap that high and mighty expression off of the section chief’s face. 

“We would have put you in protective custody,” Strauss reasoned. 

“And look how well that turned out,” you snapped back. 

She leaned back in her chair. 

You leaned forward. “And don’t you dare try to pin some protocol bull against Agent Hotchner because he told me exactly what you just did. But in the end, we both knew the only place Foyet couldn’t get me was with the BAU team.”

“With your fiance.” She watched you, analyzing every word, every tick. 

“I was stationed with Dr. Reid, yes.” You crossed your arms. “Since he had to stay out of the field due to his leg injury, he primarily remained at Kassmyer’s house where several officers were working the crime scene. I figured it was the best place for me to stay out of the way and to stay with the most people with guns in case Foyet changed his route.”

“But you didn’t expect him to do that,” she said, “did you?”

“No.” You swallowed, your hard exterior faltering for a moment. “I didn’t.”  

Strauss glanced down at the paper in front of her. “Can you describe your interactions with S.S.A Hotchner on the day of the incident?” 

You scoffed, smiling bitterly as you stood. “We’re done here.” 

“Miss Y/L/N, sit down.”

“As you so graciously pointed out, Agent Strauss-” You growled, gripping the edge of the table. “I am not one of your agents. So we’re done here.” 

She opened her mouth to argue. 

You grabbed the door handle. 

“If you have any more questions, you can call my damn lawyer.” You walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard you thought the glass would break. 

-

Before

You knew before the agents ran by your door that something was going on. Aaron had been more alert than usual, more insistent that you don’t stray too far from the BAU or your apartment. Spencer had been more attentive, making sure that you were sleeping alright and that you didn’t go anywhere alone. 

But it was when Emily checked in on you that you knew something was going on. 

“What happened?” You asked. 

“I wish I could tell you, Y/N, but we don’t know enough,” she said, hurrying away again. 

With each agent that went by, you started to put the pieces together. 

They found him. 

-

“Stay here.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

Aaron’s eyes blazed in a way that almost scared you. Almost. 

“I can’t sit in the office and wait for you guys to find him.” You crossed your arms, looking to Spencer for some help. 

“Y/N, the safest place for you-” Spence started. 

“Is with all of you.” You ran your fingers through your hair, not even realizing how much you were shaking. “Look, I have almost died in my own home, I’ve been attacked in my brother’s apartment, and I have been taken from a police station,” you snapped. “I am going with you.” 

“Anderson,” Aaron said. 

The agent came running. 

Hotch gave you a hard stare. “Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you snapped, taking a step to leave. 

Anderson stepped in your way. 

Aaron sighed. “Just… stay safe. I’ll have Garcia update you when she can.” 

“Aaron, please.” You tried again, but Anderson just gave you an apologetic look and stayed in place. “You can’t leave me here.”

He didn’t say anything else. Your brother turned and left, shoulders tense and fists clenched at his sides. 

Spencer gave you a small, awkward smile. “It’s safest for you to stay here. I don’t want to think what he would-” He shuddered. 

“Spencer, please let me come with you,” you pleaded, taking his hand. “Aaron can’t do this alone.”

“He won’t be alone.” Spence brought your hand to his lips. “We’re going to get Foyet, Y/N.”

“Not if he gets you first,” you muttered, blinking back angry, terrified tears. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering against your skin. “I love you.”

“Spence-”

“I’ll call you if I can.” 

Spencer hurried out before you could inevitably change his mind. Hotch was right. Protocols and everything aside, you would only be in more danger going after Foyet. Still, leaving that room made his heart hurt. 

You gritted your teeth to keep from screaming in frustration and fell back into Aaron’s chair. 

“We haven’t officially met.” Anderson cleared his throat and awkwardly stuck out his hand. 

You simply glared in return. 

-

Reid hated it. He hated leaving you behind, leaving you in the dark. The fear in your voice echoed through his head and made his chest feel tight. He’d left you just like he’d left you at the police station. You were right. Nowhere was safe. And he’d left you. 

“Reid,” Morgan’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 

They were on the way to Arlington to find ‘Peter Rhea.’ Or, as Reid had figured out- The Reaper. Reid sat in the car, his knee bouncing anxiously while he stared out of the window. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Morgan looked at him through the rearview, Rossi in the passenger seat beside him. 

“Anderson’s sticking with Y/N at the BAU, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So she’s safe, kid,” he reassured him, turning into the parking lot of the building they were meeting at. 

“That’s what we said at Fairfax,” he muttered, using his crutch to help him out of the car. 

While they were getting set up, waiting to move in, you were pacing your office, watching for your guard dog outside. Anderson had been in and out all day, running to find information and to make calls that would help with the case. If you just waited for the right moment…

It felt like every inch of you was screaming. Like your barely healing scars were ready to burst open and bleed life right out of you. You wrapped your arms around yourself as if you could hold it all in. 

Spencer stood amongst the SWAT team and his team and wished he could do something. Even without his leg injury, his brain wasn’t any help. He could predict where Foyet would be, but that didn’t matter if they didn’t get there in time. 

Images from countless nightmares came flooding back to him. Pictures of Foyet’s knife piercing your stomach, slicing across your skin, his sick smile slick with your blood as you tried to speak through it. You, in the hospital bed, flatlining. The patchwork of your body after the doctors did the best they could to stitch you up.

What if he went after you again? 

You gulped down a glass of water with a shaking hand, a part of you still wishing it was something stronger. Anderson had gotten called away, something about Foyet not being at the apartment. 

Your phone rang. 

“Sam?” You answered. 

Why would the Marshall be calling you?

“Sam, what’s happened?”

“That’s cute. Was he going to be your handler too if you hadn’t been so stubborn?” 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Foyet.” 

“Hello, darling.” George Foyet grinned into the receiver. “You know, I’ve always regretted that we didn’t have more time together.” 

“Come get me and we will,” you snapped, already gathering your things. 

There was only one reason he’d have Sam Kassmeyer’s phone. 

“Ooo, so feisty. So fun. And yet so… been there, done that.” You heard an engine start. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up about the agenda for today. It’s so unfair that they’re making you miss out on all the fun.” 

“If you tell me where you’re going, I can join you.” You picked up your keys. “We’ll all have a great time.” 

Foyet clicked his tongue in scolding. “Now, Y/N, that would be cheating.” Wherever he was, he was pulling away from the sound of his car. Even if you got there in time, he’d be long gone. Just another chase. “Tell Aaron I send my love.” 

He hung up.

You tried to call Aaron, but he didn’t answer. He was either too busy or too pissed off at you to pick up. You didn’t have time to try and reach them through Garcia. If Foyet had been to Kassmeyers, then the agent was either dead or dying. 

“Goddamnit,” you exclaimed, almost throwing your phone across the room. Instead, you took a deep breath, pulled yourself together, and opened your door. Anderson was busy with a call, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip out. 

Foyet was going after Hailey and Jack, and he’d just found the perfect way to get to them.

You just hoped Aaron reached them first. 

-

Spencer spotted you first. With Hotch still with the US Marshall who was bleeding out on the floor, everyone could only stand by and watch. He’d just glanced out of the window when he saw you running up the sidewalk, your panicked face lit up by the blue and red lights of the approaching ambulance. 

“Uh, Hotch,” he said. 

Morgan and Prentiss both turned. 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Morgan said. 

“How did she know to come here?” Prentiss asked. 

Spencer opened the door, frowning. “Y/N, what are you-”

“Is Kessmeyer okay?” You asked through heavy breaths. “I got a call from Foyet from his phone, so I knew that he would be-” You pushed inside and saw the blood. “Oh god.”

The wall of agents kept you from getting too close. Spence put a hand on your arm. 

“You can’t be here.” 

“Did you say you got a call from Foyet?” Prentiss exclaimed. 

“What the hell is she doing here?��� Aaron asked, not getting up from Sam’s side. 

You ignored him, nodding at Emily. “He called me from Sam’s phone. I have it in case I needed to-” You took a deep breath and looked away from the blood. “He wanted me to know what he was doing. He wanted to taunt me because he knew I was stuck at the BAU. I came here because I was worried Marshall Kessmeyer might be hurt.” 

The paramedics moved you all out of the way. 

“Gunshot wounds to each leg, one foot, he’s missing several fingers and appears to be badly beaten,” Reid told them without blinking. 

“Christ.” You ran a hand down your face, trying to see over the couch where the Marshall lay. 

The paramedics moved in. Aaron stood to let them work, Kassmeyer still trying to tell him something. He turned his burning gaze to you.

“I told you to stay.”

“And I tried to call you,” you fired back. “Foyet called me. He wanted me to know he knew where I was. He wanted me to know where he was going.” 

“You can’t be here,” he snapped, his cool fury more terrifying than any shout. “This is an active pursuit of a dangerous criminal. You cannot be here.”

Other officers were showing up, ready to treat the house as a crime scene. 

The paramedics wheeled Sam out. He tried to talk to Aaron through the blood in his mouth. 

Hotch clenched his jaw and took a breath. 

“Reid, stay here with Y/N. Make sure she does not try to follow us,” he ordered. He pointed at you as he went to follow Sam. “We will talk about this later.”

“Come back alive and you can yell at me all you want, Aaron.” 

He gave you a final glance and the anger in his gaze flickered soft for a moment, revealing the relief of seeing that you were alright. Aaron hurried out. 

You looked around at the group of agents, crossing your arms as a sudden chill ran over you. 

“He found them,” you said. “He found them and now-” You put a hand over your mouth to keep the cries back. 

Spencer pulled you into his arms without hesitating. You were tense against him, shaking from the effort of trying to hold yourself together. He rubbed your back in the way that always helped you calm down. 

“We’re going to find them first,” he whispered. 

Reid looked over your shoulder at the team. 

A darkness hung over all of them and no one looked at you. 

“I want him gone,” you said against his shoulder. 

“I know.”

“What if he’s already there? What if Hayley and Jack are already-”

“We have to assume they’re alive.” JJ stepped towards you. “Like any case.”

“But this is any case.” You moved away from all of them, closer to the door. “This is The Reaper. This is Foyet. The man who attacked the strongest person I know in his own apartment. The one who almost killed me. Nothing about this is like any case.” Your voice bordered on hysterical. 

JJ frowned. “I just meant that-”

“I can’t just stay here and wait for something to happen.” You reached for the doorknob. 

Spencer grabbed your hand. 

Logic returned to your system. 

His eyes pleaded with yours. “Stay with me.” 

You closed your eyes, took a breath, and let him pull you back to his side. 

“I’ll call the U.S. Marshalls, see what they can tell us,” JJ said. She stepped away to make the call, but the others just stood there, each of them trying to wrap their heads around what the hell was going on. 

Dave, who had been talking to one of the paramedics before Aaron left, put a hand on your shoulder. 

“We’ll find them, kid.”

You could only hope that he was right.

-

When Hotch called, he didn’t mention you. He needed to forget that you were there, to push him to the back of his mind so he wouldn’t turn around and handcuff you to his side so you could never be in harm's way again. Then again, it was with him that you’d been hurt so many times before. 

He hung up with the team and dialed a different number. 

Emily sighed, listening to Penelope. From the tech’s side of the call, there was a series of beeps. 

“What’s that?”

Somehow, you already knew. 

Penelope’s tone changed, flat with shock. “Hotch is calling Foyet.” 

You held Spencer’s hand tighter. 

“Damnit, Aaron.” 

The phone rang and you all listened. 

Foyet answered. “Agent Hotchner.” 

“If you touch her-” Aaron started, the fury and fear evident in his usually controlled tone. 

“Be gentle?” Foyet mocked. “Like I was with you?” He chuckled, the sound sending shivers up your spine. “Or your sister? Y/N seems well, by the way. Even though you’ve got her locked up in that ivory tower of yours. Such a pretty thing. A little old for me, but-” he clicked his tongue. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to pay her a visit one more time.” 

You tried not to show it, but it felt like your whole body had started to shake. Every word he said was like the knife slicing into you all over again. 

“What the hell took you so long?” Foyet asked. “I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something.” 

Aaron remained silent. 

Foyet noticed. “Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you’re frustrated.”

“Bastard,” you muttered, trying to keep your breathing steady. 

Spencer held you a little closer. 

“I’m not frustrated,” Hotch finally responded. “You’re more predictable than you think.” 

“Am I?”

“You didn’t know where Haley was so you made her come to you.” 

“You make me sound lazy.” 

“Just another way for you to show control.” 

What are you doing, Aaron? You wondered. You watched the reactions of everyone on the team, but they were all listening as intently as you were. 

“Oh that’s terrible,” Foyet said, his voice jeering. 

“Your mother tried to protect you from your father, but she wasn’t strong enough.”

“You make me sound like you’re sister,” Foyet snapped. It was barely perceptible, but you could hear the slight edge of frustration rising in him. “Or maybe just you.”

Aaron ignored him. “You hated her for that, didn’t you? You decided all women were weak.” 

“Those are your words, not mine.” 

Their words melded together in your mind as a different scene took over your thoughts. 

“She’s so pretty, Aaron. You didn’t tell me your sister was pretty,” Foyet said as he drove the knife into your side.

“Aaron…” You were losing consciousness from the hit you’d taken to the head, but you could take in every ounce of pain. 

Your brother laid across from you, his blood pooling on the carpet around him. If you could get The Reaper to focus on you, maybe Aaron would make it. 

“Is that…” You struggled to speak. “All you’ve got?”

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” The voice on the phone brought you back. “Haley looks pretty good with dark hair. She’s lost some weight. Must be all the stress you’ve caused her.” 

“Oh god,” you mouthed, bringing your hand up to keep from making a sound. Spencer held you close, but even he was still with shock and fear. 

“Where’s the little man?” Foyet wondered. “Oh, there he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?” 

A different phone began to ring. 

“That’s your wife,” Foyet said. “Hold please.” He answered the other line. “Mrs. Hotchner.”

“I’m here.”

“Open the gate and I’ll drive in.” 

“Okay.” 

Just the sound of her voice made you want to scream, to warn her. 

Aaron would make it in time. He had to. 

But you didn’t even know where they were. 

“Aaron,” Foyet spoke on the other phone again. “I really got to go.” 

The line went dead. 

Gate. Somewhere with a gate. 

You went rigid in Spencer’s arms, your eyes darting back and forth like you were reading something in front of you. 

“The gate.” 

Emily turned to you. “What?” 

“One time, in high school, I had to jump over the gate to sneak back in after going to some concert Aaron didn’t want me to go to. He said it was too exposed, too many drunk adults. I could get hurt. I, of course, didn’t care, and got beer spilled all over me. Haley caught me and smelled the beer. She said it would be our secret.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Derek asked. 

“The house. Foyet took them to the house, to Aaron and Haley’s house.” 

Morgan nodded. “He has to be in control. He wants to take over Hotch’s home.” 

The place that had once been your home would now be a warzone. 

“We have to go,” you said. 

Dave shook his head. “The best thing you can do for your brother is to stay safe and stay away.” 

“But-”

“Reid?”

“I’ll stay with her.” Spence kept his grip on your hand as the other members of the team rushed out of the house. 

You could have fought. You could have kicked and screamed and forced Spencer to let you go. But you had no weapon, no bulletproof vest, and no clue as to what you would do when you got there. If anything, you’d make it all worse. 

It was up to them now. 

Garcia called. 

“Where’s Y/N? Anderson said she left and I can’t find her anywhere in the BAU and-” Her shrill voice sent a pang of guilt through your chest. 

“I’m here, Penelope. I’m with Spencer. The others are going after Aaron.” 

“Oh thank god,” she sighed. “When I find you, I’m going to give you such a big hug and then I’m going to yell at you for scaring me.” 

“Keep us on with everyone,” Spence said. Something he’d later regret. 

Penelope paused. “Foyet’s calling Hotch.” 

Derek spoke from a different line, driving. “Garcia, can you get us on?” 

Aaron answered. “Foyet?”

But it wasn’t Foyet that spoke. 

“Aaron?” 

It was Haley. 

-

After

He sat across from you, hands clasped in his lap, waiting quietly for you to say something. 

Dr. Lance Sweets looked at the journal you’d placed on the table. He glanced back up at you. 

“Did you write about it?” He asked softly. 

You shook your head. 

Waiting for your permission, he picked up the journal to look at the last entry. 

“Why did you decide to bring it with you today, Y/N?” 

You met his eyes but he could tell you weren’t really looking at him. 

“I was hoping you could tell me how,” you said. 

“How what?”

“How I’m supposed to write about it?” You tried to keep your voice even, but every word felt broken. “How I’m supposed to wrap it all up in a neat little summary so I can get on with feeling better.”

“No one expects-”

“I know what everyone expects,” you snapped. “They expect me to grieve and to hurt and to fall apart. But I can’t do that. I can’t be the weak one anymore. Aaron needs me more than ever now so I need you to tell me how I’m supposed to get over listening to the person I called my sister die over the goddamn phone. Can you just help me do that?”

You didn’t realize you were shouting until you were forced to catch your breath. 

Dr. Sweets waited and set the journal Spencer gave you back on the table. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. 

“It’s okay.”

“No. It isn’t.” 

He took a breath, nodding. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

“I should have died,” you said suddenly. “Did I tell you that? The doctors said it was a miracle I survived, let alone without any major permanent damage.” You laid a hand where you knew the scar was. “Other than needing a new kidney.” 

“What makes you say you should have died?” Lance leaned forward. 

“Maybe if I had, he would have been satisfied, you know?” A tear slipped down your cheek. You didn’t stop it. “Maybe Foyet wouldn’t have kept going. Maybe-” You inhaled sharply. “But instead I-” I chose to come back. 

“George Foyet was a serial killer who wanted to hurt Agent Hotchner in any way he could,” Lance said. “He was never going to stop.”

“I know.” 

“There is nothing you could have done to stop him, Y/N.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked. 

Lance gave you a caring, supportive nod and leaned back again. 

“Then let’s start over, huh?”

You nodded, brought your knees to your chest, and broke down. 

-

Before

Everything stopped. If she had the phone that meant…

Spencer, realizing, reached to hang up. He stopped when you shot him a look that said ‘Don’t you dare.’

“You’re okay?” Haley sounded surprised and relieved. 

Aaron took a second to answer, his voice straining. “I’m fine.”

“But, he said that-” She stopped herself. The fear set in. “Oh, Aaron.” 

“He can hear us, right?” 

“Yes.” Her breathing shook. “I am so sorry.”

“Haley, show him no weakness, no fear.” 

“I know.” Haley calmed herself enough to keep it together. “Sam told me all about him.” She put together another piece. “Is he, um-”

“No, Sam is fine.” Aaron kept his hand on the wheel even as everything spun out of control. His heart pounded in his chest and it took every ounce of strength he had to keep his tone steady. 

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” Foyet scolded. “Is that why your marriage broke up, because you’re a liar.” 

“Don’t listen to him, Haley.” 

“I have Sam’s service phone right here.” 

You stared at the large blood stain on the carpet, unable to move. 

Foyet continued. “They sent out a mass text about his death. You can take a look if you want.”

You turned to Spencer. 

He cast his gaze to the ground and nodded. 

“He’s trying to scare you.” It was getting harder for Aaron to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

“Did you even tell her what this was about?” 

No. Aaron thought. Please no. 

“About the deal?” 

“He’s just trying to make you angry.” Aaron checked the street he was on. He wasn’t close enough. If he could just be faster…

“Well, she should be. She’s gonna…” Foyet paused. You could hear Jack playing in the background. “D-I-E because of your inflated ego.” 

You shook your head, muttering. “Don’t listen to him, Haley. Don’t.” 

“Ignore him, Haley,” Aaron said.

“I’m sure you don’t want her to know this part, either. You know, all he had to do was stop looking for me and you wouldn’t be in this mess?” Foyet mocked.

“Don’t react.” Aaron blinked back tears, feeling like his foot would break the gas pedal. 

“What is he talking about?” Haley asked. 

There was a long, painful silence. 

You gripped the back of the sofa like your life depended on it, numb tears making their way down your face. 

Spencer didn’t know what to do. With all of his training and knowledge and studies, he didn’t know what to do. 

“Tell Jack I need him working the case,” Aaron finally said. 

“What?” 

“Tell Jack I need him working the case.”

You wracked your brain trying to understand what he meant, but you understood one thing. He knew how this was going to end.

Haley cleared her throat and forced a smile into her voice. “Jack, did you hear that?” 

The phone switched hands and the next voice made Aaron’s chest ache even more. 

“Hi, Daddy.”

Aaron’s voice finally cracked. “Hi, buddy.”

You punched the back of the couch and pushed away from it, starting to pace. If he touches that little boy…

“Is George a bad guy?” Jack asked, so sweet and innocent it made your tears fall harder. 

“Yes, he is.” Aaron composed himself. “Jack, I need you on this case with me. Do you understand? I need you to work the case with me.” He could only hope he would understand. That he would remember. 

“Okay, daddy.”

“Jack, hug your mom for me.” 

You finally put it together and froze. 

He knew how this was going to end. 

Spencer took a step toward you, but you stayed back, both of you listening to the silence of a son’s unknowing goodbye. 

“Mommy hug me too tight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know how Haley was doing it. Maybe this is what it really meant to be a mother. 

“Why are you sad?” Jack asked. 

“Oh, I just love you so much.” 

“He has to make it in time,” you said, barely loud enough for Spencer to hear. “He has to get there. He-”

“Mommy, I gotta go. I’m working the case.”

Haley let go again. “Okay.” 

Small footsteps signaled Jack’s escape. 

“He’s so cute,” Foyet’s voice returned. “He’s like a little junior G-man. I’ll be right up, Jackie boy!” 

“You stay away from him,” you growled, though you knew he couldn’t hear you. 

Aaron could barely hold the steering wheel steady, he gripped it so tight. “Is he gone?” 

“Yes.” Haley fought her tears.

“You’re so strong, Haley,” Aaron said. “Stronger than I ever was.” 

You thought of every movie night she would put on to make you feel better, every nightmare she’d woken you up from. You thought of how she stood up to the press during your mother’s trial and wouldn’t let anyone near you. How she’d protected you like you were her own. 

Aaron remembered when she had Jack, how she held herself together even when he was a mess. He thought of her smile and her eyes and her voice, even as it shook now. 

“You’ll hurry, right?”

Aaron took a sharp breath, hiding his cries. “I know you didn’t sign on for this.” A tear finally escaped down his face. 

“Neither did you,” she said, resolved. 

“I’m sorry for everything.” He hated himself for saying it, as though it could fix anything. As if it could stop what was going to happen. 

Haley breathed in deeply and let it out, wondering if it would be her last. 

“Promise me you will tell him how we met,” she said. “And how you used to make me laugh.”

The tears flowed freely down his face now, but still, he drove. “Haley…”

“He needs to know that you weren’t always so serious, Aaron.”

You thought of the pictures she showed you every year for their anniversary. Pirates of Penzance. He looked so happy. 

“I want him to believe in love because it is the most important thing.” Her voice shook with the strain of keeping together. “But you need to show him.” 

Aaron could hardly muster a whisper now. “I promise.” 

More silence. 

Then…

One

Haley walking down the aisle, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

Two

Her beaming face as you walked across the stage at your graduation. 

Three

Haley’s exhausted, but utterly happy smile as she held Jack in her arms, looking up at Aaron with joy and so much love. 

The line went dead. 

Aaron threw the phone onto the dashboard, hoping it would break. 

And she was gone. 

You ran outside, but only made it to the lawn before you fell to your knees and were sick through your sobs. 

Spencer followed as fast as he could, kneeling down to hold you up.

“She can’t be- maybe she’s- please, she can't be-” You gulped through your words, unable to get enough words to say them. 

“Y/N,” Spence started, but he had nothing he could say. 

You stood on trembling legs and started for your car. “We have to go.”

“Y/N, we can’t.”

“You don’t understand.” You whirled around, your red eyes wild and desperate. “He’s going to kill him.”

And you weren’t sure who you meant.

-

After

Spencer had barely stopped the car before you were hurtling out of it, sprinting toward the surrounded house. 

“Y/N!” He called after you, but you didn’t listen. 

They wheeled a stretcher out of Aaron’s former home, carrying a body bag too big to have been your sister-in-law. 

“No,” you gasped. You ran harder, your lungs burning and your heart pounding. “Aaron!” A few of the first responders turned to you, but nobody looked for long. You screamed again. “Aaron!”

Dave found you, putting himself between you and the door. 

“Get out of my way.”

“Believe me, kid,” he said softly. “You don’t want to go in there.” 

“Where’s my brother? I need to find my brother. Aaron!” 

“Aunt Y/N,” a small voice called out to you. Jack waved from JJ’s arms, his young eyes blank and confused. 

You felt sick all over again. 

“Dave, please, where is he?” 

That’s when you saw him. His shirt was covered in blood and his face was cut, already starting to bruise. But he was alive. 

“Aaron!” You ducked around Dave and sprinted into your brother’s waiting arms. 

He didn’t even make it out of the doorway. The second he locked you in his embrace, Aaron felt his legs give out. You basically had to hold him up, his body shaking hard with sobs. 

“I couldn’t get here in time,” he cried into your shoulder. 

You didn’t say anything. You just clung to him as you both cried. 

After what felt like hours, Aaron pulled away. He held something in his fist and stared at his hand with a dark expression. 

“Y/N…” He spoke without expression. “I found this.” 

Any breath you had left your body as he opened his hand. 

It was your locket.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02; @ ara-a-bird; @ jjunebug; @ xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx; @ lillianacristina; @ noodleboyluke; @ yokaimoon

[malecardiolove]

The Test, chapter 3

The sharp sound of an alarm filled the lab as Dr. Ruiz watched the screen projecting Jack’s heart rate. There was no pulse. The graph displayed a flat line, unmoving, as the young man’s heart had completely stopped after the extreme cooling. Without losing his composure, Ruiz turned off the device and opened the tank.

Jack’s body was cold, his skin pale and covered with droplets of water that slowly dripped onto the lab floor. Ruiz lifted him with surprising ease and placed him on a nearby stretcher. Jack’s bare chest, covered in electrodes, rose and fell only by inertia, but there was no life in his heartbeat. The doctor looked at him with calculating eyes, as if he were an experiment with endless possibilities yet to be explored.

"Don’t fail me now," he whispered, making a quick decision.

With precise movements, Ruiz began cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). His hands pressed Jack’s chest with rhythmic force, trying to stimulate the heart to resume its beat. Each compression seemed futile, but the doctor didn’t stop. After two minutes, sweat started trickling down Ruiz's forehead, but he showed no signs of fatigue. He knew he had to push to the limit.

After ten minutes of CPR without any response, the doctor prepared for the next step. He took the defibrillator and placed the paddles on Jack’s chest, his skin still cold. The machine emitted a beep before delivering the shock. Jack’s body arched violently, but the monitor still registered no heartbeat.

"Don’t go so fast," Ruiz murmured with a faint, twisted smile.

With an almost sick determination, he decided to continue. He injected an orange liquid into the vein in Jack’s arm, an experimental solution prepared specifically for this phase. The liquid slowly flowed through Jack’s body, seeking to reach his stopped heart.

One minute passed. Then two.

And then, a faint tremor ran through Jack’s body. The monitor displayed a small fluctuation. The heart, after nearly fifteen minutes of stillness, began to beat again. At first, slowly; just a few weak beats that seemed like desperate attempts to restart. But gradually, the beat grew stronger.

"There you are," Ruiz murmured, satisfaction evident in his voice.

Jack, barely conscious, opened his eyes slightly, seeing with blurred vision as the doctor continued to gently massage his heart with his hands. He could feel it, a strange rhythmic pressure keeping him in this fragile balance between life and death.

“Breathe, Jack. Your heart is beating again,” Ruiz said, listening through the stethoscope as the sound of the slow but present beats filled the room.

The young man couldn’t move. He was completely weak, almost without strength, barely aware of what was happening around him. He could only sense the lingering cold in his bones and the strange warmth emanating from his chest as his heart, enlarged by the orange liquid, struggled to beat.

Ruiz turned on the echocardiogram and carefully observed the boy’s heart on the screen. The beats were slow but steady, and the image clearly showed the enlarged size of the organ.

“Incredible,” he murmured, fascinated by the outcome. “It’s grown in size, but I see no damage to the chambers. You’re more resilient than I expected.”

Ruiz fell silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then, he made a decision.

“We’ll do one last test. We can’t stop here.”

He picked up the defibrillator again. Jack barely understood what was happening before another shock went through his body. Pain surged from head to toe, an electric jolt shaking every fiber of his being.

The monitor showed the heart, exhausted, beginning to fail again. The beats slowed once more until there was nothing. The graph showed a flat line again. Jack’s heart had stopped for the second time.

Ruiz smiled, satisfied with the result.

“It’s fascinating how your body responds. Let’s see how much more you can withstand.”

Jack, floating in a deep darkness and unable to move, heard the doctor’s last words as a distant echo. His life was now entirely in Ruiz’s hands, and his heart, reduced to a tool in the doctor’s cruel experiment, could only wait for the next blow.