#I was going to say he didn’t like eating until he realised he doesn’t have to eat food raw

[enmi-land]

#000. PART ONE TEASER

𝓘.──── . . . 𝑀𝗂𝗅𝖺, 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌.

꒰ NOTE ✦ Sorry for the wait but the teaser is finally here! Also, for the sake of the Milaverse, we’re pretending that the COVID lockdown either doesn’t exist, or is over by the beginning of 2022. (It’s up to you which one it is.)

✉️ XO ⸝ MiLA ❪ TEASER ❫ ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ EVENTUAL POLY!OT⑧ 𓈃 TEASER WORD COUNT : 3.4k (FiNAL WORD COUNT : 5-10k) ꗃ ❛ KOR, ENG, JP, CHi ❜ 𝅄CONTAINS. alcohol, jealousy, minor angst, mila is a brat and a bitch (she gets better i promise)

𝓵etters to you. 𓆩♡𓆪 i ⋆ ii ⋆ iii ⋆ iv . . ,

IF FALLING IN LOVE IS SUPPOSED TO HURT, Mila wishes that cupid would have just shot her in the head and not the heart. 

All of Mila’s childhood crushes feel like child’s play compared to this. This ache in the centre of her chest—the tight squeeze around her heart, as if someone’s hand is her ribcage and has their fist wrapped around it. And what did she expect? It’s such a foolish thing to do—falling in love. She knows this.

But like a fool, she fell anyway.

The night has no life left to it—or at least none that Mila can find anyway. The alcohol tastes bitter and even the sound of her upbeat girl group songs in the background doesn’t make it any sweeter.

Mila ignores a warning from Kiara beside her and drinks another glass of soju. The older female has been on her case the entire dinner, and—to spare Mila the impending hangover tomorrow morning, and the embarrassment of anything she may do in her drunken state—has been valiantly attempting to limit the amount of alcohol she consumes.

A difficult undertaking when Mila is determined to drink until she can’t even remember her own name.

Tonight was supposed to be a good one. The collaboration she and Kiara participated in with a senior girl group, Lumine, is sure to bring fresh eyes to their group, and the dinner they were invited to by the said girl group was meant as a friendly way to celebrate their joint success.

She should have known there would be ulterior motives involved.

Mila had eagerly invited her male co-members (the legal ones, anyway, considering there were drinks involved) upon their suggestion, and realised too late that it had been for their own interests rather than Mila and Kiara’s, like they originally said. The Lumine members were all too happy to latch on to them, giggling and batting their eyelashes at them like they were innocent schoolgirls acting coy around their crush.

Well, they’re much too old to be schoolgirls—and much too old for her members. Not that it stopped them from eyeing them like candy.

“You didn’t mention how handsome your members are,” one of them had said upon their arrival. As if Enhypen aren’t idols whose photos are all over the internet, and as if they didn’t suggest inviting them to this dinner so they could have a chance to talk to them.

But that doesn’t seem to matter too much, since most of her male co-members were flattered enough by their extra attention to indulge their flirting more than they’re obligated to.

Well, good for them. At least they’re having fun.

Mila flips a piece of pork on the ignored grill in front of her, and stuffs it into her mouth without caring if it will burn her tongue or not. It tastes burnt, but it’s not like she’s eating for the flavour anymore. Any reminders her manager might have given her about maintaining her diet are lost to her right now.

She can always burn it off in the gym later, just as she always has. This thing she’s feeling in her chest, however, is a different kind of burn than she’s used to.

“You must like going to the gym often,” Mila hears Yerin, the visual of the group, say. “I can tell.”

Mila braves a glance in the older woman’s direction and sees her looking Sunghoon up and down appreciatively. And she can’t blame her. The gains from his hours in the gym can’t be hidden even by the jacket he wears.

Mila has to say, though, that she does envy Yerin in a way. She may not be a traditional visual, but her siren-like gaze is nothing short of hypnotic. The confidence which she can voice her appreciation is something Mila wishes she could have.

Sunghoon clears his throat to mutter a shy, “Thanks.”

Mila doesn’t realise she’s staring so intently until he looks up and catches her gaze, the small smile on his face freezing slightly at whatever expression she’s wearing. She quickly looks down at her cup again, avoiding the questioning look he sends. Instead she eats a small piece of kimchi, chewing on it longer than it needs to be as a weak attempt to seem busy.

Mila decides to tune out of that conversation, before she overhears something she doesn’t want to.

Mila can see Jake stand from the corner of her eye. His seat is between her and Jay, but despite being close, they haven’t had much conversation tonight. So she certainly doesn’t expect him to suddenly lean in close, overwhelming her senses with the scent of his cologne and the feeling of his warm breath on her cheek.

“Did you want anything?” he asks in a whisper.

Mila can feel the way her cheeks start to warm, and shakes her head rapidly to hide them from him. “I’m good.”

She hadn’t even registered his question. Not until there are other voices piping up.

“Thanks again, Jaeyun-ah,” Yui says with a smile. It’s clear that she’s the youngest because she has no difficulty adding a cutesy lilt to her voice. Even more impressive, she actually manages to make it sound natural, and not at all cringey or forced.

Mila almost flinches at the casual use of Jake’s name. It’s been a long time since she’s called him that herself, but only because no one else did, and she didn’t want to be too familiar. Even now that they’re in the same group, she still doesn’t dare call him ‘Jaeyun.’ She didn’t realise he had allowed their seniors to call him that.

“No problem,” he replies. He turns to Mila. “I’ll be back.”

“Mkay,” she mutters.

He’s wearing that smile that never fails to make her stomach twist into knots, and then he’s gone, leaving to do whatever it is that Yui and her unnies convinced him to do. At the same time, Kiara is standing up as well, before leaning down to Mila.

“I’m getting a call, so I’ll just be outside, okay?” Mila nods. Then Kiara is gone, and she’s all alone, feeling like a child at the adult’s table as she looks around her.

Heeseung’s seat is empty, since he left to go to the bathroom not long ago. The others have gone back to conversing as if she’s not there, and then Mila is back to looking down at her bowl of rice in front of her, wondering why she’s even here to begin with.

Being the Gen-Z’er that she is, Mila’s first instinct is to reach for her phone. As if by god’s timing, the screen lights up and she sees a text from Sunoo, who had to pass on her invitation because of prior arrangements with family.

(Thank goodness for it. Mila is already struggling as things are; she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle any of the Lumine members making moves on her soulmate, too.)

心肝☀️: how’s the dinner going?

Mila can’t bring herself to tell the truth, so she lies instead.

You: it’s okay You: all the adults are talking so i just left for a bit  心肝☀️: sorry byeol-ah 心肝☀️: i wish i could be there You: it’s okay You: hope you had a good night with your family ^.^ 心肝☀️: it was good! i’ll tell you more about it later 心肝☀️: i’m in the taxi now 心肝☀️: apparently we’re going to go past the restaurant you’re at

Mila perks up at this.

You: if that’s the case do you want to go home together??

It may be selfish and rude, but it’s better than being here.

心肝☀️: of course!!! 心肝☀️: but don’t you want to go stay back? 心肝☀️: i thought you liked lumine-sunbaenim ㅇㅁㅇ

Right. Mila mentally scoffs. That was before the disaster of tonight.

You: i’m just feeling a bit tired ㅠㅠ You: i’ll ask kiara-unnie as well You: she looked like she wanted to go home the whole time ㅋㅋ

That at least is true. Kiara was much quicker to realise the Lumine members’ intentions and acted accordingly, checking her phone every five minutes to see how much time would pass. 

心肝☀️: okay sounds good 心肝☀️: i should be there around five minutes You: see you soon! ^.^

Mila pockets her phone. 

She jolts when she feels a hand on her knee. When she looks up, those dark eyes of Jay’s hold a glimmer of concern. Mila instantly relaxes.

“You haven’t eaten much,” he observes—which Mila finds strange, since she feels like she’s eaten more than she should have, considering the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you okay? Do you not like the food?”

Mila shakes her head strongly. She musters a smile, though it must seem pathetic. “No, it’s good! I think I’m just not that hungry…”

“Well, that won’t do at all!” Jingyi, the only Chinese member of Lumine, perks up and places a piece of meat in Mila’s bowl. “Growing girls like you should eat more.”

Mila blinks at the piece of meat, which feels like it's looking back at her tauntingly. “Thanks, Jingyi-jie,” she mutters. Even though I stopped growing a year ago…

“You’ve been drinking a lot, too,” Sara, the oldest Lumine member, continues. “You’re still young, you shouldn’t overdo it.”

Mila feels her lip twitch. Just how young do they think she is?

It’s already bad enough that fans still don’t see her as the adult that she is now. (She’ll forever be their baby, according to them.) But if others continue to treat her like she’s still a child, then won’t her members do the same? And that’s the last thing she wants.

Mila already has to sit here and watch the Lumine members flirt with them, she’d rather choke on the meat Jingyi gave her than endure mothering from the men she’s literally head over heels in love with.

“Sara-sunbae is right.” Jay frowns, and Mila gets the foreboding feeling that he’ll do that thing he does where he frets over her. It had been cute once, but that was before she realised she wanted him to see her as a woman, and not the same fifteen-year-old girl he’s looked out for four years now. 

Sara chuckles. “You can just call me ‘Noona.’ ‘Sunbae’ sounds too formal. And Mila here is like a little sister to me, it’s only right I get along with her oppas.”

Sara then lays a hand on Jay’s shoulder, looking too friendly to be wanting to just ‘get along,’ and the sight of it has Mila clenching a first under the table.

Heeseung chooses that exact moment to return, and slips into his seat next to Ria, the leader of Lumine. He spares a smile at the older woman, before looking at the empty spots next to Mila.

“Where are Jaeyun and Kyunghee?” he asks Jay. But habit, he uses both Jake and Kiara’s Korean names.

“Noona went to answer a phone call, and Jake went to grab something for Yui-sunbae—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Yui tuts. “It’s ‘Noona’ to you, remember?”

She then laughs in the way that shows just how tipsy she is, and almost falls over if not for Sunghoon reaching out to steady her by placing an arm around her bicep.

“Please be careful,” he says politely, before retracting his hand. But then she topples over and ends up leaning on his shoulder.

“Yah, Yui,” Ria scolds, “Don’t be embarrassing. Sunghoon, please don’t mind her. If she makes you uncomfortable just push her off.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “No, no, it’s okay—I don’t mind.”

Mila bits her lip. She quickly looks away and catches Heeseung’s gaze instead. Or at least tries to. He doesn’t really spare her any looks during this dinner—or at all, really.

It’s one of those things that Mila has just learnt to deal with. The kind and caring Heeseung she’s known since trainee days is still there, but into in the way she’s used to. She doesn’t know exactly what’s changed, but there’s definitely something different in their relationship. It’s much more awkward, much more distant.

“Mila, do you want some of the pork?” Jingyi asks, just as Mila hastily eats the meat she gave her before.

Heeseung replies before Mila can. “You should eat some, too. Here.”

Heeseung piles a piece of pork onto Jingyi’s bowl, and Mila pettily thinks that he didn’t do anything of the sort for her. But then, she’s the one who wants them to treat her less like a dongsaeng, isn’t she? Perhaps she’s getting what she wanted, after all. 

“Ah, thank you.” Jingyi gives a stunning smile, and Mila has a sudden thought that she resembles someone very familiar.

Then it clicks. Of course.

One would think Heeseung would be over his ex-girlfriend by now, but considering how long they had been together, she supposes it’s not too far fetched to think he would look for her in everything he does, even two years after they’ve broken up. It was no secret that the man’s entire world revolved around her.

Mila is willing to bet he still has the bracelet she gave him, too.

She reaches for a drink before the soju bottle is taken away from her sight. She blinks as she looks at Sara.

“Mila, you should slow down a bit,” she chides. “Here have some water.”

Mila feigns a smile. She doesn’t want water, she wants alcohol, damn it! “It’s fi—!”

“No, she’s right.” Mila looks at Heeseung in surprise. He’s looking at her sternly. A huge contrast to how he’s been looking at the Lumine members—or anyone for that matter—since the dinner started. “Don’t overdo it. You have a schedule tomorrow.”

No, because what the hell is his problem? He’s been giving her hot and cold treatment for the past month or so, and has been doing fine at pretending she’s not here tonight. But when he does decide to address her, it’s to chastise her in front of everyone?

Mila frowns. “I know my limits. I’ll be fine.”

Is this really the right time and place to be giving into her pent-up frustrations and showing attitude? No. But she’s not exactly in the right mind to be rational.

“It’s not a good look if you turn up with a hangover,” Heeseung says, firmer.

“I’ve been fine without you supervising me in the past,” Mila snaps. “I don't need your advice.”

There’s a tense silence. Heeseung rolls his jaw, and gives her The Look. Mila glares back like the petulant brat she knows she’s being, and ignores his face to call the staff over for another drink.

Heeseung lets out a deep sigh, and Jingyi looks at him from the corner of her eye, not sure what to make of the sudden shift in mood. Yerin has a hesitant smile on her face. But the older woman quickly regains composure and clears her throat. “Well, it looks like we’re running low on meat—I’ll call over the staff to get us some more.”

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows and nudges Mila’s foot discreetly. He mouths, ‘What’s with you?’

What’s with her?

What’s with her?

Mila doesn’t even know how to begin to answer that question. She can feel her blood start to rush beneath her skin, and she doesn’t even know the reason why.

She’s annoyed, she’s mad—but she feels like crying at the same time. 

Maybe there really is something wrong with her. But, well, she should have realised that after falling for not one, not two, but seven people at the same time.

Jay furrows his eyebrows. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jake returns at that very second, holding a woman’s jacket in his hand. “I got your jacket, Yui-sunbae.”

The said woman beams up at Jake and receives it gratefully. “Thank you, Jaeyun. Sorry to bother you.”

“That’s okay—woah!” Jaeyun sweeps in with a heroic catch as Yui stumbles on her feet in an attempt to put her jacket on. “Be careful!”

Yui simply giggles drunkenly and pats Jaeyun on the chest. “You’re so strong, wahhh...”

Mila’s lips are pressed into a thin line. Now this is getting too much for her liking. She doesn’t hear anything else that’s being said, because she’s trying to calm down the emotions that poke and prod at her from the inside, begging to be let out in the ugliest way possible.

Mila doesn’t care. She can’t be in this room anymore.

She suddenly stands from her seat, drawing all eyes at the table to her. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She storms off. She almost bumps into a woman leaving the bathroom and spares a thin, but hopefully friendly, smile before she goes right to the stall at the very end, and locks herself inside.

The alcohol does not pair well with the boiling jealousy in her gut, and she finds herself hunched over the toilet seat, throwing up every bit of food she’s had in the last hour. It’s not a pretty sight. She’s lurching, her shoulders shaking and her eyes watery as bile burns the back of her throat.

Mila may be dramatic, but this might possibly be the worst night ever. 

She has to drag herself out of the stall and towards the sink, where she grimaces at her reflection. So much for being a visual, she thinks. She looks like the average college student after a night of no sleep, three cans of coffee, and a simmering desire to just quit everything and work on a remote farm for nothing more than sleeping quarters and food.

She takes a deep breath as she observes her reflection. Her visuals have always been praised by netizens for seeming so youthful and refreshing, yet she can’t help but feel that everything about her feels too…girlish. The baby fat on her cheeks, the roundness of her eyes, and just her look in general.

Mila reaches up to the back of her head and plucks the white satin bow that she used to pin up half her hair. She shakes her head, allowing the black strands to fall in waves around her face. She turns the bow over in her hands and bites the inside of her cheek. 

She sighs. It’s not like getting rid of the bow will make her look any more mature, considering she’s been acting like a brat. As she thinks back to her petty remarks, she starts to feel belated embarrassment creep under her skin.

I’m so pathetic, Mila bemoans as she shakes her hands dry at the sink. Why did I say that?

Mila is so caught up in her thoughts she doesn’t notice Kira until she almost bumps into her on the way out of the bathroom. She decides to tell the older female about her conversation with Sunoo over text, only to find that Kiara already had a similar idea.

“Apparently the Lumine manager had to go home all of a sudden for an emergency and asked our manager to help drop them back off to their dorms.”

Well, Mila can’t be upset over that. She’s aware of just how dangerous the world is for women. As much as she was annoyed by the Lumine members tonight, she wouldn’t wish any harm on them.

Their manager, Juri, finds the girls and discusses a quick plan away from the others.

“Okay, if Mila goes with Sunoo I’ll worry less,” Juri says. “Then I can take Kiara and the Lumine members, and the boys can take taxis home when they’re done.”

“Okay, then that settles it.” Kiara gestures to Mila. “When will Sunoo get here?”

Mila quickly takes her phone out of her pocket. She opens the most recent message from Sunoo. “He said he’s pulling up now.” She types a quick reply and turns to leave. “I’ll go meet up with him—you tell the others about the plan.”

“Yah!” Kiara reprimands as she speeds off. “You should say goodbye to the others, first!”

Mila waves a hand in dismissal over her head. “It’s fine. They won’t even notice I’m gone.”

She doesn’t know whether to be grateful or sad about that.

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu @enhaverse713586

[st-hedge]

What does dink (like to) eat?

Are u talking to urself in my inbox

[luveline]

hii jade are u going to write something about hotchner!reader and spencer any soon?

—You panic when Spencer’s late for a date. He makes it up to you as best as he can. fem, 2.6k

cw implied past child abuse

You weren’t young when you were adopted, so you were instilled very quickly with the need to be grateful. How lucky you were to be given a second chance at a family. How you owed it to your new family to be the perfect daughter and sister to a father who didn’t like you and two brothers your senior. 

Family for you is complicated. It always has been. You didn’t get the unconditional love you’d hoped for in all of them, but you have one older brother who loves you as though you and him are two branches of the same tree, and maybe that’s enough for anyone. 

“Yes!” Aaron cheers, jumping up from the bench. 

You spin around with a grin that’s half shy, half ecstatic. “I did it!” 

Jack runs up to your legs. “You got a strike!” 

You pretend to give him a karate chop. “Boosh! Double strike.” You grin as Aaron sizes up the pins down the long ally. “Think your dad can get one before we run out of turns?” 

“No!” Jack laughs. 

You laugh at his easy answer. His father, determined now in the face of your disbelief, picks up a number twelve ball and stands at the arrows to take his last turn. You brace your hands on Jack’s shoulders and wait for the line to be put down again. 

You’re pretty sure he’s throwing his turns to let Jack win. You’d not done the same until you realised the yawning gap in the scores, and maybe you’d feel embarrassed for not noticing if Aaron ever made you feel bad for anything, but he doesn’t. 

Your phone rings as he pulls back his arm. You ignore it. “Good luck, dad!” Jack says under your hands. 

It’s that good luck that gives Aaron his strike. You cheer with Jack as the ball glides straight into the first pin and veers on a spin toward the third, creating a wave of noise and action as the pins go flying back toward the baseboard. 

Aaron turns around with a huge smile. “Jack!” 

“You did it!” Jack cheers back. “Not first, but you did!” 

You grab your phone from your pocket. “Couldn’t let me have it, could you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron picks Jack up from the floor to hold against his chest, pointing at the screen with love. “Look at that, buddy, you won! Can you see that? You got the most points!” Aaron kisses his cheek, high on happiness. “Wow!” 

You have two missed calls from Spencer. To Aaron’s begrudgement, you and Spencer are actually going steady. The first attraction didn’t fizzle, the dates turned to dating turned to exclusivity; Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, and he’s supposed to be taking you out to dinner in ten minutes. 

“Everything okay?” Aaron asks, creeping closer to you, Jack still in his arms. 

“It’s fine, he’s just running late.” You notice his small frown. “His mom’s doctor wanted to talk to him, that’s all.” 

“How late is he thinking?” 

The plan was you’d go bowling with your family and then meet Spencer outside to eat at the Chinese restaurant just across the parking lot, but it’s not seeming so sure now. 

“He said half an hour. I’m pretty hungry,” you say, “he’s gotta speak to a psychiatrist about something. I can’t eat though, right? That’s rude.” 

“That’s not rude, honey. You can’t help being hungry as much as he can’t help being late.” As you’d noticed his, he notices your small frown. “You can’t go hungry,” he says with a shrug, “so you’re gonna have to come and eat something, but Spencer can join us when he’s done.” 

“Right, because you’ll love that.” 

“I’ve been on more dates with him than you have.” 

You take Jack as he opens his arms toward you. “I forget. I always think of you as his boss, and not his teammate.” 

Aaron grabs Jack’s backpack off of the bench, and your empty cups off of the table to throw away. “I am his boss. Okay, Jack, what do you want for dinner? What sounds good?” 

You, Aaron and Jack leave the bowling alley and end up in the Italian restaurant opposite of your originally proposed restaurant. You carry Jack on your hip and text Spencer with your open hand, content to let Aaron guide you through what little foot traffic there is to your table. Aaron sits on one side of the booth with Jack, and you slide into the other side. 

Spencer’s texts are getting more and more convoluted. He says he’s sorry, and then he says he has to call someone else, and then he needs to talk to his mom. You nibble your fingernail. 

“You okay?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… Yes, everything’s fine.” 

“Is Spencer okay?” 

“I think he might cancel.” 

Aaron flattens his menu. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I think his mom is having a bad day…” 

“What else are you worried about?” 

Jack saves you for a moment, “Dad, can I have juice?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll get you juice. Apple juice?” 

Jack presses his cheek to Aaron’s arm, earning himself a hug. 

“Are you tired?” Aaron whispers. 

“No.” 

“Okay. Hey, there’s a table over there with some colouring pages and crayons, do you see that? Do you want to do some colouring?” 

“Can I go get some?” Jack asks. 

“Yes. Don’t bump into anybody, okay?” 

The table isn’t far enough to worry, but Aaron splits his attention between Jack and you fairly evenly, just a tad more worry following his son. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Aaron asks. 

“You don’t think Spencer would lie, do you?” you ask. 

“Lie about his mother? I doubt it very much.” 

You trust Aaron, and you trust Spencer too, but Aaron has earned that trust over years and years where Spencer has been gifted it. He hasn’t done anything to break it, but he hasn’t proved he should have it yet either. And really, truly, it isn’t actually about what you believe of Spencer. 

You feel a bit nauseous, but your brother is the best person in the world, so you tell him why without preamble, “I’m worried that he’s going to get sick of me.” 

“Why would he do that?” Aaron asks. 

You scratch at the menu beneath your hand rather than meet his eyes. Because you’re awful. That’s what your father instilled in you, and it’s what you’ve come to learn. Eventually, the people who love you get tired of you. Everyone except Aaron, and isn't that proof of something? He’s the only man good enough to pretend you’re someone worth caring about. 

If he could hear your thoughts he’d probably cry. It’s why you’ve struggle to tell him. 

You rub your thumb into the side of your index finger, feeling the texture of your skin. “I think people just do.” 

Jack returns quickly, with paper and a huge fist full of crayons, though there are four colours altogether. “Well,” Aaron says, helping Jack back into his seat, crayons rolling released from a small fist every which way, “I don't. And Jack doesn’t, Haley doesn’t. I see no reason why Spencer would feel that way.” 

“What don’t I do?” Jack asks, frowning at his dad. 

“You don’t think Aunt Y/N’s bad at bowling, do you?” 

“You’re great at bowling!” Jack's eyes go wide. “I’m gonna make us a photo, to remember. We got strikes!” 

You let your face fall into your hand as Aaron strokes hair up the side of Jack’s head. It’s a soothing thing to see, you know the soft touch of his hand well, having been petted and patted through a hundred different bad moments. 

Spencer probably isn’t lying about why he’s late, but he could be. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“She’s very good at bowling,” Aaron says, hugging Jack to his side. “And so many other things, that’s why we love her. Should we make a list?” 

He used to love doing that, too. 

Your father wasn’t a nice or kind man. Aaron doesn’t know how it escalated, only knows what happened to him, and how he’d come to see you and you’d burst into tears the second he asked how you were. 

If Aaron knew how bad it was at the time he would’ve forced you to leave, but you never told the whole truth. He assumed it to be a mixture of everything —school was awful, dad was worse, and you were more isolated than most. 

Make me a list, he’d say. 

The first time you didn’t get it. You were a teenager sitting on his couch, his wife in the kitchen, a weight on your chest. What for? 

A list of the stuff that’s bothering you. 

Do you need a list? you’d asked. He had a knack for knowing more than you could say. 

I think we should make one. 

You realise now it was a strategy to calm you down. If you could quantify the things that were depressing you, you could begin to understand it, and hopefully dismantle some of the bigger problems. It didn’t always work, but it didn’t matter. It made you feel better just to have you and Aaron on the same couch with a notebook and a number two pencil. Don’t see my brother enough, he’d written with a sad face. 

Brother, you’d thought with a secret joy. He’s your brother. 

Jack and Aaron make a list they won’t show you. You order drinks and then dinner, waiting for a phone call or a text back you don’t receive. It’s disheartening, and when your pasta arrives, you can barely eat. 

“Honey,” Aaron says, “why don’t you go call him? You can see if he’s alright.” 

You poke at a shell with a tightly gripped fork. “What if he doesn’t want me to call him? It sounds serious.” 

“Maybe that’s why you should call him. I think he’d appreciate it.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, but ultimately, he doesn’t. “Take a minute for yourself, if nothing else. Everything’s okay, I promise.” 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” Jack asks. 

You smile regretfully. “I’m just feeling confused today, babe. What about you? Are you confused about where your mouth is?” you tease lightly. 

Aaron gasps a laugh and reaches over to wipe Jack down with a napkin as you slip from the booth. You take your phone, worrying that Aaron’s eyes are on your back as you pass by the host booth and back out onto the street. The breeze kisses your clammy skin. 

Why do you assume that no one really likes you? It’s difficult to comprehend. Your thumb hovers over Spencer’s contact photo, debating, and debating. Should you call him? He might be preoccupied, upset even, and what if you make it worse? But if you don’t call him, you can’t reassure yourself that you’re not in trouble. 

He answers on the third trill. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hey!” There’s a sound like something heavy has been put down. “Hey, I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be sorry!” you say immediately. “It’s okay. Are you okay?” 

Spencer’s voice is a little high and fast, but beside that, he has a nice tenor. When he’s calm and feeling up to it, alone at night with nothing else to do, he’ll read to you from one of his infinite books, his syllables catching and tripping over air as you rub your nose into his arm. 

“I’m fine! There was a mixup with some medication at the sanitarium and they realised my mom’s dose of one of her antipsychotics has been charted higher than she was really taking, so she’s been having a hard time, it’s a total mess but I think we have it figured out now. How was bowling?” 

“Spencer, are you sure it’s okay?” 

“It’s fine.” He laughs softly, not a hint of condescension or derision for you, but an emotion you can’t name. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I mean, it’s fine if it’s not okay. I know you can’t help yourself sometimes, but you don’t have to tell me it’s fine if it’s not fine.” 

“Uh–” You cough around it. “No, it really is. You can’t help it. Family is important, right?” 

“It’s so important. Listen, where are you right now?” 

“I’m just standing outside of the Pasta Factory by the bowling alley. I tried to have dinner ‘cos I’m starving, but… I think I lost my appetite.” 

“What? Are you okay?” 

“I’m having one of those days, I guess?”

“What kind of day?” 

His voice is bouncing strangely, as though he’s talking near you. You pause, turning on your heel to look down the few stairs into the parking lot asphalt. 

Spencer’s walking up them, a bouquet of roses in his hands. 

“Hi,” you say, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

Spencer puts his away. “Hi. 

His hug is full, all-encompassing and warm as he wraps his arms around you, the bouquet a cacophony of crinkling against your shoulder. He smells like aftershave, his Tom Ford one with the woody tinge that has you pressing your nose into the top of his shoulder to just breathe. Your phone digs into his spine. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Hey,” he says softly, giving you a similar swaying, back and forth. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to call them, but it wasn’t fair on you.” 

“Spencer,” you say, holding him tightly. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

“Don’t sound so unsure.” 

“No, but. We can be flexible, right?” 

“Of course we can, but I’m still sorry.” He peels back to smile at you, his eyes gently squinted. “So what’s wrong? What’s making it one of those days?” 

You can’t explain it to him. He likely doesn’t need you to. 

You’re expecting him to pull away —you’re in a public place and affection isn’t his usual expertise— but he doubles down. New boyfriend or not, this hug feels like it’s from somebody who’s loved you for years and years. 

“What’s making it a bad day?” he asks quietly. 

“I don’t know…” You rub your nose self indulgently against his shoulder. 

“Are you sure you have no appetite? Maybe that’s what it is? Stuff tends to feel bigger or more upsetting when we’re hungry because low blood sugar prompts your body to release more hormones that affect your cortisol level, and cortisol plays a big part in how your mind interprets your emotions.” Spencer pulls away, his hand sliding up your shoulder to hold you in place. He grins. “So I think you should still let me take you to dinner. Especially if you didn’t eat much.” 

Why would Spencer lie to you? you think, relieved. He wouldn’t. And the idea that he’s going to get sick of you, that’s rooted in bad lessons from a poor situation. It’s not a reflection on you. 

“We will,” you decide, “I just have to get my stuff. I left my bag, and Jack’s writing me a list.” 

“What list?” 

“A list of stuff I’m good at.” 

He doesn’t waver. “Really? Can I add stuff too?” You turn your nose up in an unsubtle prompting, satisfied when Spencer gives you a quick, smiling kiss. “Sorry,” he says, though his apology is distracted by a fond undertone, “I missed you.” 

You receive a few more gentle kisses for all your worries, and you begin to feel better. Spencer presses the roses into your hand and encourages you into the restaurant with his hand spread behind your back. 

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

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

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[earthtooz]

fluff with a lot of angst, reader is injured and in hospital for one scene but it's not graphic, lovesick!bakugou

during the many years you’ve loved bakugou katsuki, you have only seen him cry three times.

the first time, you were alarmed. where you fell asleep on the couch awaiting your boyfriend’s return, you did not expect to wake up to the sound of sniffles and the sight of drying tears.

“katsuki? what’s the matter?” you asked cautiously, immediately sitting up to wipe his tears away.

your touch, like a healing balm to the blond, lets you treat him like glass when both of you know he is nothing akin to fragile.

“‘s nothin’,” he gruffly huffs, voice cracking a little.

“if you say so,” you murmur skeptically, knowing better than to prod when it’s bakugou involved.

“were ya waitin’ for me?”

you nod. “i thought we could eat together but- what time is it?”

“almost nine.”

“oh. i thought we could eat dinner together but your patrol must have ended a lot later.”

his heart aches pitifully, worsening when he watches you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to come home so late.”

“it’s okay, i get it.”

“we can still eat together, if that’s okay,” he grumbles, looking away bashfully and missing the way your face brightens.

“that sounds lovely, i’ll go heat up dinner-“

“-no, i’ll do it. it’s my fault for coming home later, i’ll call you when it's done.”

bakugou is out of your sight before you can argue any further. as you watch your boyfriend disappear, you’re left pondering on the couch as to why he was acting so uncharacteristically. did he have a bad day? did something happen at work? was he unable to save someone? that’s can't be the reason, he always-

“dinner’s done!” your boyfriend calls from the kitchen, disrupting your thoughts.

when you asked, it didn't sound like he had a terrible day, in fact it sounds like he had a successful patrol, but you cannot fathom any other reason for his melancholy, but if he’s forgotten about it, then you will too.

but... bakugou doesn’t forget. he still remembers when midoriya first alluded to the inheritance of his quirk from all might, he remembers the night vision goggles kirishima broke when trying to save him that one time, he remembers your favourite things and what makes you happy; he remembers everything.

and he’ll never forget that the tears he shed tonight were over the fact that bakugou will never get to show you how much he loves you.

bakugou katsuki, for the first time, realised just how painfully human he is.

he has a heart that beats for you, limbs that longingly ache to be near you whenever he’s not, a mind devoted to you and a cursed mouth so incapable of expressing it all.

if he could, he would wrestle the night sky to give its stars to you instead because you love stars. you love the stupid things in life that bakugou can't give. he can’t give you everything you could ever want and with that realisation, bakugou discovered just how beatable he was.

you may never know the multitude of bakugou’s love for you, and that fact alone brings him to tears as he gazed upon your sleeping figure on the couch, resting peacefully until his arrival.

the second time, you wake up confused.

the lights in the room are dim, there's a machine beeping intermittently and you think it's a heartbeat monitor but you don't really think too hard about it because your body hurts.

you have to blink a few times to get the blurriness out of your eyes, but you eventually comprehend the sterile walls of a hospital room. then the memories come back one by one, a patrol gone awry, evacuating citizens and... ah, being slammed into a wall back-first by the villain. explains the pain.

then you register the looming figure beside your bed, a pair of widened vermillion eyes gazing into your own with untameable blond hair to match, you can't help the smile from spreading on your face when you see your lover.

"hey," you cough weakly, throat dry and scratchy from lack of use.

next thing you know, bakugou's bulky figure is draped over yours, forehead resting on your chest as his arms gently snake around your torso, bringing you into his chest and pressing himself firmly against you.

you feel him; his relief, his sorrow, his devotion, his painful sobs as he shakes against you and it kills you that the only thing you have the strength to do is run a hand through his hair. you want to kiss him, to tell him that it's okay and that there's nothing to cry about, that you're here and nothing will change that, but you're so very sore and barely in tact.

"don't do this shit again," he threatens weakly and you feel his tears seep through your hospital gown. "you had me so fuckin' worried, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, i can't believe you'd do this to me, do you know how much it sucked to be without you?"

"sorry, katsuki," you whisper and he looks up at you, glossy eyes and quivering lip.

"promise me you'll never do this again."

cupping his cheeks with your hands, there's a rush of deja vu as your thumbs catch his tears. "i don't know how realistic that promise is given that this is my job-"

"-your job is to save lives, not go crashin' into buildings, idiot."

you laugh gently, a stabbing pain making itself known in your gut when you do. your wince doesn't go unnoticed by bakugou, who knows you better than the back of his hand and his heart lurches at the slightest evidence that you're in pain. "still, i won't make promises i can't keep, you know how our jobs are, katsuki."

he frowns, furrowing his brows. "then i'll promise to always be there for you. don't go where i can't."

"that's not realistic."

"watch me."

"okay then, deal."

there are questions you still want answers to, but for now, you'll let the blond continue crying with his ear pressed against your chest.

(you won't ever know about the few days bakugou has spent in your hospital ward, absolutely miserable as he looks upon your gaze with anticipation. he hates how helpless he is, that he can't do anything to rid of this horrible feeling in his chest but wait for you to wake up. he hates that he can't any semblance of peace, he hates the man that love has made him, but most importantly, he hates being without you.

you won't ever know the struggle it was to get bakugou out of your room for even just an hour. midoriya and kirishima had to wrestle him in hopes of getting some proper food together, and yaomomo and todoroki had to literally block the door with various items to prevent his entrance.

you won't ever know how alienated bakugou felt, unable to face your shared home without you in it. without your music playing, without your shoes messily thrown at the genkan, without your comforting presence to return to when all is said and done, there isn't much of a home for bakugou.

you won't ever know how desperately bakugou clung to your hand, fiddling with it whenever he needed a safe haven.

you won't ever know the amount of tears the blond had shed by your side, hunched over your bed, with nothing and no one to comfort him but the sound of the heartbeat monitor.)

the third time, you cry too.

it's your wedding day.

when the news first came out, japan practically roared with excitement and anticipation for the special day that their two favourite heroes would wed. the enthusiasm has not dimmed down even months later, and now, as you're one door away from your lover, you feel it buzzing in your bones.

it all goes by in a blur. one second you're about to trip over yourself in nervousness and the next, you're walking down the aisle with a stunned bakugou failing to keep his composure at the altar. despite the amount of close friends and family around you, all you can see is the love of your life who looks at you with unmatched adoration and affection in those ruby irises of his.

up close, however, all you can see are the tears forming in his eyes, and his first sniffle takes everyone in the room by surprise. no doubt, this is their first and last time seeing their beloved hero cry.

more tears are shed and then, it's just waterworks from practically everyone in the room as bakugou breaks down even more.

thank goodness for a private wedding because you know he is never going to live it down if the press got their hands on this image.

a close friend of yours hands you a handkerchief and you wipe away bakugou's tears with a teasing smile, unable to keep your wobbly laughter at bay as your lover- japan's symbol of victory and heroism, turns to nothing but putty in your hands. he lets you treat him so delicately because you've seen him at his lowest, most shaken, and most unlovable, yet still decided to stay.

"sorry," he apologises as you dab at his tears, words reserved for you and you alone. "you're just so... divine. i can't believe i'm marryin' you."

you feel your first tear roll down your cheek and bakugou catches it before it can go too far, wiping it away.

"such an embarrassin' way to start our wedding," he grumbles.

"embarrassing for the both of us, but memorable no doubt," you try to reason.

"everything is memorable as long as i'm with you."

"such a sap," you whack his shoulder lightly. "have you been saving that line for today specifically?"

"you should wait til the vows. bet mine are better than yours."

"i didn't know you could be a poet."

"only for you."

"well then, i can't wait to find out what else you are, katsuki."

"i'll always be yours."

you laugh, "i'm glad to hear that 'cause i love you."

"i love you even more, i'm crying just to prove it."

"your tears are dangerous."

"yeah well, you're marryin' these tears so."

"like i said, i can't wait."

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[syrupfog]

AU where Sanji can’t go to college because his dad is way too rich for him to qualify for FAFSA, but Sanji’s estranged so he can’t go to him for financial assistance. 

He wanted food science. Still does, someday. But in the meantime he works at Zeff’s restaurant. 

He meets Luffy because Luffy and Ace are notorious dine n’ dashers, and the Baratie is about the only place that doesn’t ban them, because Zeff’s secretly got too soft a heart, and because Luffy and Ace at least TRY to work their bills off, although they never last long.

Ace and Luffy drag him back to “their place”, which is a four person dorm room that’s technically home to Chopper, Usopp, Franky and Zoro. 

At six, it’s a squeeze. And it stinks. Sanji complains the whole time he’s there, forces them to open a window for godssake.

But he comes back every time they invite him. He brings food. 

He’d bring food anyway, but he noticed that Zoro’s clearly an athlete and he’s surviving on JUNK. Slim Jim’s and microwaved eggs and unseasoned chicken. Sanji’s disgusted, and he voices that disgust loudly.

He and Zoro get into arguments about it, but Zoro doesn’t complain when Sanji brings meals. 

Sanji’s also really satisfied when he sees Zoro eat everything without even attempting to turn it down with a “you shouldn’t have” or “I’ll leave some for someone else”.

He eats everything Sanji gives him, without comment, and Sanji gets a thrill from that. A bit because he can recognize someone else who also must have gone through food insecurity. 

Ace and Luffy also clearly have, but their trauma manifests in stealing right off his plate.

Which Sanji allows, of course. He’s a pushover. 

When the group of six come to the Baratie, plus two new people (Nami and Robin), Zeff initially turns them away because “I can’t afford for eight people to skip out on their bills you lunatics”. 

Nami pays for them in advance.

Sanji hears her telling Zoro she’s adding it to his bill. 

The few high school friends Sanji had disappeared off to college at the start of the semester, so he’s happy that he seems to be adopted into this group, right up until he comes to serve their table and hears Nami call the “meeting” to order. 

Sanji looks over her shoulder as he’s pouring waters and sees spread out call logs and texts and letters. Threats. Nami’s words go in one ear and out the other but Sanji hears the key; Vinsmoke. They come from Vinsmoke.

They’re all getting them, he realises. His hands shake as he listens. They’re being targeted, threatened. They don’t know why. 

HE knows why. 

How long has his dad known where he is? What he does, who he sees? 

He backs up. Gripping the jug in a vice grip. Runs for the kitchen.

He tells Patty to cover him because an emergency has come up, and he runs out the back. 

Runs for a long time. 

Just runs.

He stops responding to Ace and Luffy’s attempts to contact him. He can’t talk to them. He’s going to cause them trouble— HAS caused them trouble. They’re his friends. They didn’t know what they were signing up for. 

He calls off as many shifts as he can while still making rent

(which honestly isn’t a lot) and if Ace and Luffy show up he demands to be on dish duty. 

Zeff sees this, but he doesn’t say anything. Sanji’s grateful. And ashamed. 

He’d liked having friends. Liked that terribly crowded stinky dorm room.

It’s almost two months of hiding, although the texts from Ace and (especially) Luffy don’t stop coming. 

And then, one day, he gets a pounding on his door. 

Pulling it open, expecting a pissed of neighbor maybe, he finds— 

“Zoro?” 

Zoro looks at him flatly. “Come on,” he says.

“Uh,” says Sanji. “No?” 

Zoro grabs his wrist (when was the last time someone touched Sanji?) and veritably drags him out the door. 

“Shit, Mosshead, stop!” 

“No,” says Zoro. “We’re tired of you hiding.” 

“I’m not HIDING,” Sanji hisses, at least pulling the door closed behind him

“Yes you are,” Zoro says. “You think I don’t know hiding?” 

Sanji would be surprised if Zoro knew hiding. The man is nothing but bold. “How did you know where I live?” 

Zoro, dragging him down the stairs, says “Your old man told me.” 

“WHO?” 

“That cook. The grouch.”

“ZEFF?” 

“Stop shouting, dumbass.” 

Sanji fishmouths. “I can’t believe he told you,” he says eventually. 

“He’s not an idiot,” Zoro says. “He knew you were hiding for dumb reasons.” 

Sanji was hiding for legitimate reasons. He doesn’t say that.

Zoro drags him all the way out of the building and to an idling old van with painted windows. Oh, is he going to MURDER Sanji? 

He pulls open a back door and throws Sanji in. 

Sanji kicks him as he goes. Zoro curses at him. 

There are no seats in the back of the van.

There’s a lot of pillows. It smells like the dorm. There’s also several six sets of eyes staring down at him from where everyone else is apparently just chilling in the back of the van. 

“Uh,” Sanji says, from the floor. “Hey, guys?” 

Zoro jumps in and pulls the door closed.

The van is thrown into reverse and everyone curses at Ace. 

“Hey,” says Luffy. “You’re back!” 

“That was the plan,” Nami says. 

“Took you long enough,” Usopp says. He’s looking at Zoro though, not Sanji. 

“Couldn’t find his floor,” Zoro grunts. 

Sanji lives on the second floor.

“Uh,” says Sanji, still lying down. Shifting with the turns of the van. “Am I being kidnapped?” 

“That would piss off your dad, wouldn’t it?” Nami muses. “Especially if someone files a missing persons report and he gets dragged in.” 

Sanji gulps. They know he’s a Vinsmoke, then.

“I still say we just fight him,” Luffy says. 

“We’re not fighting an ADULT,” Usopp shrieks. 

“Usopp, buddy, we’re adults,” Ace says. 

“Except chopper! Chopper put your seatbelt on!” 

“It’s on!” 

Sanji’s spiralling. They know who his dad is. Do they want to blackmail Judge? Or—

“So we’re planning a party tonight and we want you to cook for us,” Luffy says. 

Sanji splutters. “Wh—“ 

“Yes, we were planning on driving to the store first before going back to the dorm,” Robin says. 

“Here.” Zoro throws a dirty piece of printer paper and a pen at him. “List.”

“You want me to… make a list.” 

Zoro settles back against the van wall, unfazed by the sharp turn. “Yeah.” 

“You guys want me to… cook for you.” 

“Duh,” says Luffy. 

“You don’t… care that my dad was sending you death threats? Or have you just not gotten to that part in this discussion?” 

Luffy laughs. Bright. Free. “Yeah that was annoying,” he says. “But my guy Jinbei’s on it! He used to work security.” 

“Uh… huh.” Sanji feels sceptical. It feels too easy. 

“Come on, cook,” Zoro says. “I don’t want to have to talk to your old man again. He’s mean.”

Sanji’s never had anyone refer to Zeff as his old man. He doesn’t want to object, though. “Is this not just… too much work? For just me?” 

“Oh, Franky says he can help with dinner if that’s what you’re worried about,” Luffy says. 

“SUPERRRRR.” 

“No,” Sanji shakes his head. “I mean like. I’m not worth all this trouble. You guys were getting threats just for KNOWING me. My dad’s…” 

“Just some bastard you happen to share blood with,” Zoro says, arms crossed. “Who gives a fuck? Chopper’s dad is a reindeer.” 

“He WORKS WITH REINDEER!” Chopper squeaks.

“Luffy’s grandpa has tried to get us arrested, like, ten times,” Usopp says. “It’s all good.” 

“Uh,” says Sanji. That doesn’t sound good. 

“Don’t worry, we can outrun him,” Luffy says sagely. 

“Plus he’s a bitch,” Ace yells from the front.

Sanji looks at the dirty piece of paper in his hands. There’s a boot print on it. He starts writing a list. “Fine,” he says. “But only because I don’t think you guys would leave me alone even if I tried.” 

“Obviously not,” Luffy says. “Zoro’s been moping for weeks.”

Sanji’s head snaps up to meet Zoro’s. 

Zoro shrugs. “I don’t like having to count macros,” he says. 

“Right,” Sanji agrees easily. “Makes sense.” 

He takes note that Zoro’s the one who talked to Zeff. Zoro’s the one who dragged him out. Zoro’s the one who eats everything Sanji gives him like it’s a gift from the gods. 

When they arrive at the store, haphazardly parked in the loading dock, Sanji follows Zoro out. 

He grabs onto Zoro’s sleeve. “You’re pushing the cart for me.” 

“Whatever,” Zoro scoffs.

He does, though. 

And he sits on the kitchen floor while Sanji prepares the food for this so called party. 

The party is the same group that’s always there in the dorm. Sanji finds out, when he’s done cooking, that they’re celebrating his return.

He cries in their bathroom, briefly. 

Then he sits next to Zoro and watches everyone make fools out of themselves as they fill him in on everything he’s missed. 

It’s good.

[beenbaanbuun]

Face sitting with Mingi

words - no fucking clue

genre - smut

warnings - chubby!reader, dom!mingi, oral (f!receiving), insecurity, internalised fatphobia, nicknames (baby, princess, mingi calls himself baby boy…), praise, brief discussion of safe words, consensual somnophilia (if you squint - mingi gets off on readers thigh and she falls asleep halfway through), i think that’s it :)

one thing you’d realised about mingi is that although he may be dominant in nature, that man really knows how to beg

long limbs trapping you in place as he looks up at you with puppy eyes and whimpers in your ear until you’re practically a puddle in his lap, ready to give into his every desire

he‘a almost impossible to say no to with his pretty pout, almost being the key word

because there’s just one little thing you always say no to

after the last time you denied his request under the guise of being ‘too tired’ you expect it to be more than two days before he asks you again

but it’s not really a surprise… mingi is insatiable when it comes to you

so you just let it happen, body going almost limp as he holds you against kiss chest and kisses down your neck gently

“mmm, taste so good,” he licks a long stripe up your neck before taking your earlobe into his mouth and suckling gently, “you know what tastes better, though.”

you can’t help but moan as he teases you

“you’ll let me eat you out, right?” he whispers, and you nod.

and then he drops the same bombshell as last time and you freeze

“you’ll sit nice and prettily on my face, hm? let your baby boy devour you?”

you cant deny that you’d like to

fuck, you almost say yes there and then!

but before you can, you take a moment to come to your senses and realise that as hot as it sounds, it just won’t work

it takes a few seconds to give your body a once over with your eyes, picking out all the bits of it that carry just a little more weight than you’d like

too heavy, you decide as you begin to rack your brain for yet another excuse as to why you can’t sit on his face tonight

but just as you’re about to spout some nonsense excuse that makes no sense, mingi cuts you off

“and don’t say you’re too tired this time, baby,” he rubs your thicker waist with his hand, massaging the soft flesh like he’s kneading dough, “you were up for getting your pussy eaten before knowing exactly how i wanted to eat you.”

and again, you freeze

he has you caught, and you begin to realise that he knows you too well

“m’not going to say i’m too tired,” you definitely were, “my legs just ache too much to hold myself up for that long.”

“mhm,” he doesn’t believe you for a second, “well, that’s the good thing about sitting on someone’s face, princess… you sit”

his hand shifts to your bare thigh that poked out from your skirt, and he gropes it, big palm tugging at it until your legs are spread a little

“w-well…” you think for a moment, “my hips ache! i cant spread my legs for that long!”

he chuckles darkly in your ear

again, you know he sees through your bullshit

“if i was eating you out on a normal day, your legs would be spread,” he trails his hand up higher, “so tell me the real reason, baby.”

and you realise there’s no getting out of it

you’ll have to sit and tell him exactly why you can’t before he proves you wrong and shows you exactly why you can

its the same as when you told him you didn’t want to wear lingerie because you thought you were too big

you should’ve known mingi would go out and buy the prettiest sets he could find and get you to give him a show, all why he sat and palmed at his dick, showering you with pretty praises

you sigh, working up the courage to do it

“m’too big to sit on your face,” you mumble, “i’ll just hurt you.”

he hums in response, drawing patterns on your thigh with a finger

“and you think i care that you consider yourself ‘too big,’ do you?”

of course he doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t care

you shake your head

“listen, baby,” he readjusts you on his lap so you’re facing him, one leg either side of his lap, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but your reasoning is fucking stupid. if you want this, then there should be nothing holding you back…”

you try and avoid his gaze

he finds it cute for a few seconds, but he’s soon lifting your chin and making you focus on him once more

“so,” he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouty lips, “you want this or not?”

and you do want it… you want it so bad!

so you nod

“you know the rules, princess,” another kiss, “i need your words…”

it takes a moment for the words to process in your brain, and then another moment for them to form in your mouth

“can i sit on your face?”

“you’re so well behaved for me…”

and just like that, mingi gently pushes you to the side and positions himself so he’s lay on the sofa, legs hanging off one end so he has a enough room for his head to lie flat at the other

and he’s dragging you closer to him by your hips, and pulling one leg over until your wet panties hover just a few inches above his mouth

his jaw is slack in awe as he moves the damp material to the side and lays his eyes on your pretty pussy

it takes a moment to shake himself out of the trance you have him in

“so perfect, hm?” he whispers, “so pretty and perfect, aren’t you?”

you let out a loud whine at his words, nothing but embarrassment filling you up

he gives your hips an experimental tug, pulling your core just a little closer to his waiting mouth

and you resist, just a little bit

a little bit is enough for him to pause

“baby, i’m only doing this if you’re fully on board,” and you are, you’re just a little nervous, “i need you to sit, baby… can you do that for me?”

you whisper out a ‘yes’, but you still make no movement

you’re still a little scared

“okay, how about this,” he says, “you sit down and i tap your thigh if i want you to move, alright? i can guarantee i won’t, but at least the failsafe is there, okay?”

you cant lie, it makes you feel better

a lot better actually

knowing that he has a way to tell you it’s too much makes you feel a whole lot safer

it makes you let out a giggle as you finally understand why mingi is always so insistent on the whole ‘safeword’ thing

if your lips were anywhere near his, you’d kiss him

for now, you’d have to settle for something else

and from that point, it takes just a few seconds for you to lower your cunt to his mouth

the groan he makes when contact is made is borderline sinful and he wastes no time slurping at your wet pussy

tongue tracing patterns up and down your slit before delving deep inside to collect as much nectar as it could

lips circling around your clit, suckling ever so gently before adding more and more pressure

messy, open mouth kisses to your hole as if he’s desperate to make out with it

youre a mess within minutes, and you wholeheartedly blame mingi

you fall forwards at some point, barely holding yourself up with your elbows

your plush tummy rests just a few inches above mingi’s forehead and he can’t help but shift his hands until they’re resting flat against it

they massage the flesh as his tongue massages your clit

and before you know it, you’re crumbling

your hips buck against his open mouth, but mingi drinks up everything you have to offer him, grunting loudly as if it’s the best think he’s ever tasted

he works you through it, barely dipping a toe into overstimulation before pulling you away and shuffling a little so you can lie next to him

he’s rock hard against your hip, but when you try and move you hands to do something about it, he clasps them in his own

“i can use your thigh, baby,” he whispers as he begins to rhythmically rub his crotch against your leg, “almost there anyway… tasted too good.”

and in a weirdly peaceful way, you can’t help but fall into a slumber as your boyfriend ruts against your thigh, kissing your cheek with his sticky lips as he groans in your ear with his deep voice

[theemporium]

sugar daddy charles concerned af when he doesn’t hear from his girl but she keeps pulling all nighters for uni and she is crashing and burning so he jets over to sort her life out

listen this just happened and i don't even know what to say for myself but anyways🤠

.

“Charles—”

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay. That’s it, mon amour, just like that,” he cooed softly as he ran his fingers gliding up and down your thighs. “Just let go f’me.” 

“I-I can’t,” you whined, shaking your head as the tears began to well up in your eyes. It was too much. Far too much, and still a part of you craved more. “I need to—”

“You need to listen to me, amour,” he murmured against your skin, pressing light and soft kisses along the inside of your thighs. “And I’m telling you to relax.”

It wasn’t unusual for you to not answer your messages straight away. After all, Charles himself got caught up in meetings and duties, and it sometimes meant that he wouldn’t be able to reply for a few hours. He knew you were in a similar position with lectures and classes and meetings with your professors.

But it was different. 

Usually it was just a bad day here or there, but this time it had been a few days in a row and his concern was growing. You barely replied to him, and even when you did, your replies were sporadic at best. When he looked at the shared location you both had, his worry grew tenfold when he realised you hadn’t left your flat in days. But his breaking point was when he sent someone to deliver food at your door, and despite the insistent knocking, it went unanswered. 

You weren’t taking care of yourself, and he didn’t like it at all.

Charles pushed all his meetings and duties back a week. They still had a fortnight until the next race weekend and they could cope in Maranello alone without him for a while. They would have to. He called the company to have the jet waiting for him at the airport as he drove over, and he hopped on a plane straight to you. 

And when he arrived, Charles realised he was right.

You were overworking yourself. You were barely eating or sleeping or drinking enough water. You probably had more caffeine in your body than a human ever should have. You looked exhausted and he could see the toll it was starting to take on you, and yet you still insisted that you needed to study for your exams that you had in almost a month’s time. 

You weren’t taking care of yourself in the slightest, and his heart broke. You were his: his love, his equal, his partner, his to take care off. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and spoiled like you deserved to be, and instead you were working yourself to the bone and he didn’t think you even realised just how far you were pushing yourself.

So, Charles got you to relax in the only way he knew how.

Maybe it was a little manipulative to say he just wanted to hold you, that he wanted to be selfish and enjoy just laying down with you before you started studying again. But you were too tense and too tired and too overworked, and it was Charles’ job to take care of you so that’s what he did.

“Hmm, my girl wants to come again?” He questioned, his hands pawing and squeezing the fat of your thighs as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. He had you sprawled on the bed for the last forty minutes, made you come at least twice on his tongue, and he had no interest in stopping. “Say it, amour. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you gasped out as your fingers fisted the sheets, a choked out moan leaving your lips as he licked a thick strip up your soaking cunt. “Charles, I need you. Please.”

“That’s it, amour,” he groaned happily as he nuzzled his face further against you, kissing and licking and sucking until his hands were pinning you down to the mattress. “You need me, and I’m gonna take care of you like I always do, yes?”

“Yes!” You whined, your back arching off the bed as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked hard.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he lifted his head, his lips and chin glistening with your release. “Gonna make you come one more time and then you’re gonna dress up all pretty so I can take you out for dinner. Do you understand?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, a little high-pitched and a little too dazed to say words right now.

But Charles grinned in response anyways. “My perfect girl.”

.

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott✮⋆

part 2 /part 4

theo’s had a hard childhood, his mother sadly died and all he has left his father. his fucked up father. there’s no wonder as to why theo took up smoking, but this doesn’t change the fact that he’s completely addicted. every inhale and exhale takes him further away from the walls of the castle, just what he wants. just what he needs. despite his mother leaving him from a young age, theo continues his and his mother’s shared passion for learning, doesn’t necessarily mean he’s at the top of his classes but he’s doing pretty good if he says so himself. theo was also taught how to play the piano but avoids doing so because he thinks it reminds him of his mother too much. but if you wake up in the middle of the night, you might faintly hear a sweet sweet melody being played from the common room.. all the neglect from his father’s end corrupted his innocence growing up, and as a child Theo often spent his time in solitude. however he didn’t let this affect his relationships in his teenhood, and still chose to foster relationships- but only as far as friendships. Theo has never been in a relationship and the ‘sleeping around’ thing his friends so often did, didn’t seem so appealing to him. that is, until he saw you. he was sure you were new but when you first talked and told him you’ve been here since first year, let’s just say it wasn’t one of his proudest moments. from that moment he knew exactly what he was going to do. it took a while, his grovelling weirded you out at first- did he like you? was he trying to do this as a joke? eventually you’d realised it was in fact not a joke, and theodre nott actually did like you, yes. however did you know what to do in response? absolutely not, so of course you turn to everyone’s go-to flirting method: feigned dislike. it worked wonders while also creating a tense but playful rivalry between you and theo. did this confuse theo at first? slightly, yes. but was he also turned on by it? absofuckinglutely. in case it isn’t obvious, things did eventually get heated… everything about you had him going crazy- your smile, your eyes, your laugh, your comebacks, your scent, your hands, YOUR HANDS. gosh he goes absolutely feral over your hands (mainly because he imagines he’ll be putting a ring on it one day, but asides from that..) the way that they fit so perfectly into his alters his brain chemistry or something because trust me this man will be holding onto it and fidgeting around with it EVERY. SECOND. OF. THE. DAY. while everyone thinks he’s a complicated character, he’s actually not. there’s a limited amount of ways to get to his heart- food, hugs and hickeys. food: you know it, every theo enthusiast has heard this about a million times, all the more reason to believe it to be true!! he will literally eat his whole weight and won’t think anything of it, and will STILL be skinny af. hugs: this man needs his hugs just to relax and have a lil breather. a back hug, a side hug, a bear hug, straddle hug, you name it he will hold onto you like a koala! hickeys: alright, enough of our soft teddy, Mr Nott knows his way around your neck, shoulders, chest, EVERYWHWRE. there’s nothing sweet about this, he wants everyone to know who makes you a hot moaning mess every night.

#hmm should I do a part two??🤔🤔#y’all know I’ll do anything for my theo bby

[marshmallowdarling]

Retired Knight! Simon is the last person to come around to the thought of you (surprise surprise). Because like these are his boys, who are you to come in and try and steal them away? 

Very much jealous and possessive and the other men eat that shit up! Wrapping his arm around his captains waist when you come into the room, throwing an arm around Johnny’s shoulder while he makes you all breakfast (because everyone needs to eat including you and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you he doesn’t hate you), pressing himself into Kyle’s back while Kyle washes the dishes. Just little things that silently say ‘he’s mine’. 

But again, he doesn’t hate you as much as he loathes the king throwing you into their home and in a way he pity’s you. Having to be a ‘spouse’ for their general who already has three boys at his side, a loveless marriage and having to be the ‘other person’. 

He watches you, at first he didn’t mean to. Habits from the army were hard to break and patrolling their home was a way to soothe his nerves and drain his energy so he wasn’t itching to do something, and he sees you trying to tend to the few animals John got as a present. Key word is ‘trying’ because bless your heart you have never really taken care of barn animals, seen then yes and touched one once or twice but actually tended to one? You thought you had an idea on how to take care of them but that gets thrown out of the window when you try but you don’t want to ask the boys because how hard is it? And you really want to prove you can be useful… 

So, he watches and watches. Watches as you try to haul some hay over to the horse and almost throw out your back. He watches as you try to carry a bucket that seems manageable, but you can barely even lift it an inch from the ground, waddling with it swinging everywhere and needing to set it on the ground for a few seconds after a few feet before trying again and then stopping and then trying again and then stopping and then trying-

And he watched with a raised brow from under his mask when he sees you happily feed the cows some melon, patting their short fur… until another cow’s big wet tongue laves over your hands, and another cows large tongue curls around your shirt- and by the end you’re a wet, sticky mess. 

After watching you for a while he decides he should try to help, not because he likes you but because everyone needs to start somewhere right? And watching you every day failing was painful but you did surprise him when each time you would get back up and dust yourself off…. Even when sometimes you had a little cry or swear before you got up, but you still got up and every time a hint of respect flashed in him. 

He gets to the small barn before you do, knowing your routine from watching you almost every day for a month. When you get there and are rightfully confused he doesn’t say anything for a bit before picking up one of the two buckets on the floor next to your feet, the one with most amount of stuff, before wordlessly showing you how to hold it properly and feed the cows. He doesn’t even ask you to do anything, just letting you stay near the second bucket and after a few minutes when you do get the hint he just gives you a little nod. 

Each day after starts like that, until Kyle realises what’s happening and comes around with a nice cuppa for the both of you while you work in the early mornings. 

But Simon still doesn’t like you, he just tolerates your presents. It’s what he says anyways when Kyle teases him about it while under him, but Simon just grunts and buries his feeling while putting the brat under him in his place. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HOW DO WE LIKE?!?! I'm sorry for dropping but my family is going THROUGH it right now but here's a little peaky peak into my brain lmao

Tag List (omg mom look I made it); @sheep-from-rad , @aldis-nuts , @reap3erslov3 , @pasanau4

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,127 words | established relationship, rough sex, creampie, cockwarming, ushi with a clingy girlfriend <3

“you’re just gonna leave like that?” 

hand hovering over the doorknob, wakatoshi stops dead in his tracks at the sound of your voice, surprised to find you standing behind him with your arms folded across your chest and an expression that can only be described as petulant. 

“you didn’t even say goodbye!” you whine. 

ah. he takes a step towards you, and before you have a chance to complain further his hand settles in the crook of your neck. thumb gently rubbing circles into your delicate skin. “my love,” he’s so apologetic, so sincere even though he knows “i’m just going to the store.” you both know you’re just being a brat. but he can’t help it. you look too cute with your eyes closed and lips dramatically puckered, impatiently stomping your feet. his hand slides to cradle your neck as he pulls you towards him and slots his lips gently against yours. and though your attitude might be a bit sour, there’s nothing sweeter than the taste of you on his tongue. 

“kiss me again.” this time it’s just a quick peck, barely touching as he tries to escape your grip. but you’re basically hanging off his neck, still pouting, still not satisfied. “again.” 

“what is this one for?” the way his eyes soften melts your heart a little.

“damages.” you quip. “because you forgot.” 

and you’re gasping as his body crashes against yours, large hands catching you by the waist, guiding your legs around him. “i’m sorry,” close enough to share the air that you breathe before he pays his damages. firm and claiming, “i won’t do it again.” now you’re the one dumbfounded. limbs trembling and limp like jelly as he leaves your home with a soft smile and a promise to be back right away.

wakatoshi has learned that you’re clingy, and he doesn’t really understand. he has never asked anyone to share much with him. and he’s never given much of himself to anyone. and, well, no one has ever asked. until you asked, no, demanded. like the first night you spent together when you shoved your finger in his shoulder just moments after he had turned his back to you and demanded to be held. your hands wrapped around him and face nuzzling into his neck. mumbling something about how he’s so mean to just leave you like that. peppering little kisses down his throat until your breathing deepened. and the realisation that you’ve found comfort in him, his body going rigid at the very thought of disturbing your sleep. the months of back pain before he finally understood that you’d just wanted to be close, feel his skin on your skin, the warmth of his body, that was all the comfort you ever needed.

this unfamiliar feeling of being wanted and desired so greedily. after his morning run, salty with sweat and strands of hair sticking to his forehead. and, still, you make grabby hands from your shared bed, asking for a kiss to start your day, your due. sitting next to the sink, a coy smile on your pretty face, watching him shave because he looks so so handsome when he sticks his jaw out like that. 

perched on top of him, your paws on his chest, pinning him down on the bed as if he’s prey. and the way you’re looking at him with darkened eyes, he just might be. insisting he lets you bite him. “i could just eat you alive.” fingers dig into muscles, squeezing around his pecs.

“then i would be dead and you would be sad about it.”

you scoff, “not if i just have a tiny little bite.” and your gaze turns calculating. “hmm, your thigh.”

“no, i need my thighs.”

“your butt?”

“no.”

ugh. “your cheek then.” wiggling your hips, preening and purring into his ear, mouth grazing over his cheekbone. so determined to get what you want. then sinking your teeth into the plane of his cheek when he doesn’t say no. not deep enough to leave a mark, but long enough so that his skin is slightly red and shiny with your drool. 

you can feel his cock twitch against your clothed pussy as you lick over the bite mark, slowly and with intent. “ah!” you’re gasping and giddy at the thought of flustering him. “you liked that!”

“that’s not-” 

“but you did!” there’s nothing to deny as your hand wraps around his cock. sitting so heavy and pretty against his abs. “are you hard?” he is, and you’re giggling. 

acting so innocent as you move your panties to the side and rub his tip through your soaking folds. then slowly, too slowly, sink down his length, taking as much of him as you can. the flush spreads from his chest, to his face, to the tip of his ears. and he just looks so adorable underneath you. as you make him feel every inch of your pussy, hand still firm around the base. 

gasping every time you go down a bit further. the way your lips part and eyes glaze over makes his balls ache. he lets you toy with him until he’s heard one too many “baby, i can feel you here,” as you drag his hand up to your belly button, “in my tummy.” and he loses all manners, ruthless in the way his hips are rutting up into you. fast enough to make you grab onto his shoulders, and brutal enough to have you drooling on his chest. words long replaced by tiny sobs and some incoherent form of oh my god, ’s too much repeated over and over and over again. helpless against the strength of his grip. 

your little pussy spilling with his cock and cum that it’s all dripping from the sides. and even as you lay on top of him, motionless and sticky and sloppy, you won’t let him pull out, walls tightening around his sensitive length at every attempt. because you need to feel him go soft inside you, to feel so close and so full of him until you doze off in his arms. 

then he finds himself being away from you for the first time. and the silence that should feel peaceful is suffocating. and shaving his face feels pointless when you’re not there to ogle him. the spacious bed feels a little cold and very empty. and he decides to ask. phone in hand, a strange anxious feeling swirling in his stomach, hoping that you’re awake. the relief that washes over him when he hears your voice. his shirt on you and his pillow in your arms, whispering about your day like it’s some great secret. and he learns something about himself that night. maybe he’s also clingy.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[kimbappykidding]

How Seventeen react when you tell them you’re pregnant

Scoups - Goes into planning mode

Although you were shocked and a little scared to discover you were pregnant part of you relaxed when you remembered who your partner was. 

The second you told Scoups and established you wanted to keep the baby he was in organisation mode. He immediately started listing everything he was going to do to make this as easy as possible for you. First was getting you the best doctors and medical care possible. Then he moved onto delaying his military enrollment so he could be with you in the early years when babies are most stressful. His mind was rapidly covering all avenues, from pre-schools and buying a home together to potentially moving so you could be closer to your family when he stopped, realising you hadn't said anything. 

Y/n are you okay?" he asked and you nodded smiling "yeah I just realised I'm the luckiest woman in the world having you as my partner. You just listed tons of things I didn't even think of, you're so well prepared". Scoups blushed "ow well...I just want to make things as good as possible for you and the baby". You smiled "they will be but we don't have to do anything just yet, why don't we sit and take it all in". Scoups nodded "okay, take it all in...Y/n we're going to be parents" he said as if the thought just occurred to him and you laughed "yep and amazing ones too". Scoups nodded and hugged you "I'll make sure of it if it's the last thing I do".

Jeonghan - Calms you down and assures you everything is going to be okay

Jeonghan could always tell when you were nervous and he always knew how to calm you down.

When he realised you'd hardly eaten anything throughout dinner he knew something was wrong and he asked you what was up. Then you broke down and it all spilled out. "I'm happy but also just so in shock, I have no idea what we're going to do" you cried and Jeonghan nodded. 

He carefully eased you into a chair and took your hand "Y/n just breathe okay, everything is going to be okay I promise". "But how?" you asked "I have no idea if I'll be a good mother Jeonghan or if I can do this". Jeonghan took your hand "that's just the fear talking. I've seen you around kids and they love you! You're the strongest person I've ever seen, you'll be an amazing mother and I promise I'm going to be right beside you every step of the way". "You promise?" you asked and he nodded "I swear, now come here" and he wrapped you up in a hug. You cried a little more and then Jeonghan soon had you laughing and feeling better. You both started looking online for fun baby clothes and toys and by the end of it you were smiling again. All thanks to Jeonghan.

Joshua - Incredibly wholesome

When you told Joshua it felt like some k-drama, the moment was that perfect. You'd been waiting for the right time to tell Joshua all night but things kept happening. First Joshua had a tough day at work and was really tired, then dinner was ruined so you had to go out to eat and then your car broke down so you had to walk home. You weren't far away when you passed a neighbour with their child. You said hello and Joshua smiled "their kid is so cute, I can't wait until we have one too" and that seemed to be like fate intervening so you told Joshua that moment would be sooner than he thought.   The world seemed to slow and Joshua's whole posture changed. He looked at you, his eyes suddenly more alert and brighter "what?". You repeated yourself quietly and added "I'm pregnant...we're going to have a baby". A smile lit up Joshua's face and he tentatively looked at your stomach "we are?". You laughed "well according to two pregnancy tests and a doctor, yeah". Joshua laughed and swept towards you gently "this is the best news I've ever heard, I'm so happy" and he held you against him. Then it began to snow and you really did look around for the camera crew but no it was just you and Joshua but in nine months there would be a new edition.

Jun - Doesn't quite get what you're saying

"Jun you're going to be a dad" you said and he nodded "yeah hopefully someday, do you want the last piece of pizza".

You paused a little confused how easily he’d gotten over that news and tried again. You shook your head "no Jun I...". "Are you sure? It's got all the toppings on you like, cheese, tomato, salami". "No I can't eat salami" you said and he paused "ow are you going vegan? That's cool I'll do it with you". "No Jun I'm not going vegan I'm expecting". He nodded "expecting what? Do you mean for your comeback because that's weeks away and you deserve a little splurge...". "No Jun I'm expecting a baby" you said and that caught his attention.

"You're expecting a baby...like your sister is visiting?". "No like I'm going to have one myself" you cried getting exasperated at how he wasn't getting this. "Now?" he asked beginning to get it and you shook your head "well obviously not right this second but in 9 months time I will". Jun blinked several times before he looked at you "Y/n are you saying...do you mean that...". "I'm pregnant" you said and his eyes widened "you are! I did that?". You laughed "well I'm pretty sure it's you yeah unless it's an immaculate conception". Jun threw the pizza down "why didn't you say something?" and you rolled your eyes praying the baby got your tact and deception skills...but from Jun’s ectactic smile you’d be more than happy for it to get anything else from its father. 

Hoshi - so excited

You weren't too sure how Hoshi would take the news. You knew he wanted kids but you were both still young and he loved his freedom and independence. Two things which vanished with a child. He'd be happy but it might be difficult for him to wrap his head around...or so you thought. The second the words left your lips Hoshi's mouth hung open and he stared at you. "Hoshi" you said nervously "Hoshi say something, anything! Are you going to pass out?". In response he cheered and wrapped his arms around you. "A baby? we're going to have a baby?" he cried and you laughed "yes Hoshi that's how this whole pregnant thing works". Hoshi cheered again and you broke down laughing "so you're happy?". "Of course I'm happy!" he cried "this is the greatest news ever! A baby that's half you and half me? It's going to rule the world! Aww imagine if it has your eyes and my smile? Or your nose and my smile? Or your ears and my smile? Basically I want it to get everything from you except for my smile". You couldn't believe how hyper he was and you'd seen him hyper tons of times! The boy was simply ecstatic about the news and you knew you should've never doubted him.

“What?” Hoshi asked, realising you were staring at him and you smiled shrugging. “Nothing just I’m so happy we’re going through this together...that I get to experience this with you” you admitted “I can’t think of a man who would make a better father”. Hoshi’s expression changed and his eyes filled with tears. He cried happily and hugged you “I love you so much” he said and you wiped his tears away “I love you too Hoshi”. 

Your baby was going to arrive to a very loving family and you couldn’t wait.

Wonwoo - Very calm

When you told Wonwoo the news you were shaking. You weren't worried about him more just nervous about the whole thing. You were thrilled but it was a huge life event and your lives would never be the same. But the reason you and Wonwoo worked is he balanced you. 

Wonwoo was so happy but you were still worried and rattled off all the things you weren't sure of. "I need to find a good doctor and should I get a paediatrician? I have no idea what I can eat and what I can't eat. Am I allowed to eat dairy? Do I have to just eat vegetables?". Wonwoo stopped you spiralling by gently putting a hand on your shoulder "Y/n don't worry we'll work all of that out and you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We'll find a doctor and sit down and ask them all out questions but for now why don't we just get something nice to drink and celebrate?". "Celebrate?" you asked and Wonwoo laughed softly "well it's the weekend so no doctors are open. We can't do anything so let's just take it easy this weekend and wait until we can do something about it". You nodded "yeah that makes sense..." and Wonwoo smiled "great so I'll grab the non-alcoholic drink and you pick a movie". 

You did as he said and for the first time since you'd heard the news relaxed. You weren't alone, you had your other half to balance you out.  

Woozi - Cries

Now Woozi isn't one to get emotional. He likes to pretend he's okay even when he's not but he's also a huge softie and sometimes the emotions win out. When you told him, Woozi went quiet and pale and you were worried he was taking it badly. He nodded as you explained to him how far along you were and what symptoms you had before looking down. You frowned and reached out for his hand "are you okay?" getting slightly nervous. Woozi took a deep breath and looked back up revealing the tears he'd been holding back. "Of course I'm okay this is wonderful news" he smiled sniffling and you broke. You burst into tears which made Woozi cry too and you were both clutching each other so happy and excited. "You're going to be the best mum in the world" Woozi told you and you smiled and replied "this baby is going to have the best dad in the world, I know you'll be perfect". You and Woozi then spent the remainder of your day wrapped up together in a blanket fantasising about your new baby and everything you couldn't wait to show it. "I hope it likes music" Woozi said stroking your hand and you smiled "of course it will it's your child! Music will be in its blood" and Woozi smiled "I'll set up a station for it in my studio" clearly very excited and you hugged him tighter. 

DK - Screams and then faints

You knew DK might be a little unprepared for the news but you didn't expect him to pass out on the floor after letting out a k-drama-worthy scream. "DK!" you cried fanning him as you cradled his head on the floor. "DK are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?". He was conscious but seemed out of it, he was muttering something over and over again but you couldn't work out what it was. "Dk?" you asked and then you realised what he was saying. "A baby?" he asked and you nodded "yes Dk a baby, you're doing to be a dad" which almost made him pass out again "okay I won't say the b-word...erm think about dogs and summer and Christmas and all the things that make you happy". Dk nodded and did as you said before he finally felt well enough to sit up. Once he was upright he took a few deep breaths looking at you before he spoke "I'm going to be a father...". You nodded "yes you will but don't worry we can do this together and we'll have so much support from our friends and your members". Dk nodded "yeah you're right, we've always wanted to be parents so we're going to smash this" his positivity returning. You nodded "of course we will!" when Dk suddenly gasped "Y/n I'm so sorry I fainted. You're the one literally growing a human being and I was the one lying around on the floor! If I promise this will be my only weakness in your whole pregnancy and that I will be your rock no matter what you need will you forgive me?". You laughed "Dk you don't need me to forgive you because there's nothing to forgive. I actually loved your reaction because it's so authentic just like you, you didn't pretend you were okay just for appearances. You were honest and your worry and concern is how I know you're going to try so hard for our child and that just makes me love you even more". Dk blushed and hugged you "and that's why you're the perfect woman for me and we're going to have the most wonderful baby ever". Dk's optimism and positivity as well as his honesty was going to make this a very fun pregnancy.

Mingyu - Immediately turns overprotective

You weren't sure what Mingyu's reaction would be so you tried to be really careful and deliberate with how you told him. You got confirmation from a doctor first and the idea was to tell Mingyu after dinner when you were more relaxed and calm but you were too excited. So the minute you got home from the doctors you found Mingyu and told him where you'd been.

Once Mingyu realised what you were trying to tell him he grabbed a chair and began to pull it out. You figured he needed to sit down but he started easing you into it. "Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you need me to get you anything?". "What?" you asked and he smiled "well I know pregnancy can be really hard sometimes and I want you to know I am at your beck and call 24 hours a day. I will cook you whatever you have cravings for and you do not have to want for anything. I'll cut down my hours at work too so I can be there for you and I promise I'll make this as easy as possible for you". You laughed "Mingyu that's so sweet but I'm only a month and a half pregnant. It's not too bad at the moment and I'm not even showing". He nodded "I know but my mom had a really bad pregnancy and even if you don't it's going to be tiring and difficult so I want you to know I'm here for you, whatever you need". You blushed and nodded believing him "okay Mingyu" and kissed him softly.

The8 - Super energetic

The8 had two moods, he was either chill and calm or hyper and outgoing. When you told him you were pregnant you got the latter. The8 immediately started cheering and jumping up and down, doing cartwheels and just basically anything to get his energy out. "This is amazing!" he yelled before coming to hug you in a huge bear hug and you laughed "so I take it you're happy". "I'm thrilled!" he replied breaking away from you to do a flip. You laughed watching him "let's just hope the baby doesn't get your energy or I'll be getting no sleep". "Then I'll stay up with you" The8 replied before he gasped "can we call my mom? I can't wait to tell her". You nodded "of course we can tell everyone" when the door opened and Dk, Vernon and Dino appeared. "We heard screaming is something wrong?" Dino asked. The8 smiled "nothing's wrong just...Y/n's pregnant!". The boys all cheered and The8 rushed to hug them all and you watched as they all bounced up and down excitedly. "Where are the others?" The8 asked and Vernon said they were in the living room. So The8 bounded off happily shouting the news to everybody and anybody nearby and you watched him amused. 

This baby had a very excited parent waiting to meet them.

Seungkwan - Emotional af

Seungkwan had been dreaming of being a father since he was a kid. While most boys were playing with action figures or cars he had baby dolls and had his first child's name picked out at the ripe old age of 10. So you knew he'd be happy when you told him you were pregnant but you weren't expecting quite so much emotion.

When you told him, Seungkwan gasped and collapsed to the floor. You rushed to make sure he was okay and in reply Seungkwan just grabbed your hands and asked if you were being serious. When you confirmed you were he flew into your arms and burst into tears "this is the greatest day of my life!" he cried cradling you slightly and his happy tears turned into full-on sobs. He kept repeating "thank you" and "you're amazing" over and over again as you held onto him. "Seungkwan it's okay, you don't have to thank me" you told him cradling his face and he smiled still crying "I know but I want to because you've made me so happy, not just for this but for everything since you came into my life and this is the icing on the cake". "Aww Seungkwan!" you cried and held him closer. A few minutes later Seungkwan was excitedly googling pre-schools and found one just a five-minute drive from his work. "Just imagine it Y/n! I can pick them up after school finishes and we can go get something to eat and go to that cool park we always like walking through and in the summer we can go to the lake and then you can meet us after work! We could even get a dog and then we could..." and he continued on and on changing moods for hours until he eventually fell asleep exhausted. You covered him up with a blanket smiling, Seungkwan would have no problem keeping up with the baby's energy.

Vernon - Can’t speak

It had been two hours since you'd told Vernon and he was still sat in the same chair staring at the wall. He'd assured you he was okay and happy with the news, he just needed some time to process it. However that was a while ago and you were beginning to think you'd broken him. "Vernon sweetie...are you okay? Do you need anything? Water...Scoups...an ambulance?". He looked at you and shook his head "no I'm okay just processing". "Okay but you've been processing for two hours now and I'm getting worried". He looked at the clock confused and his whole face dropped "shit...sorry you're the one he's actually got to do all the hard work and here I'm freaking out". "No you're allowed a freakout, it's big news". He nodded "yeah it is, it is...Y/n I promise I'm going to do my best to be a good partner and parent". You chuckled "I know Vernon, I have no doubt you'll be an amazing father". "You don't?" he asked and you smiled "of course not! Vernon you're so kind and sweet and caring...what else could I or this baby ask for?". Vernon visibly relaxed and finally smiled "this is going to be so cool". You chuckled "it really will be".

Dino - excited to be a cool young dad

At first, Dino's only concern was you were both quite young and he worried this might've come too soon in your life but he soon realised there were positives to this. For one you'd both be young parents and he was very excited about that. “Just imagine us Y/n, strolling along the beach with our young family! We'll be able to keep up with the child no problem and when we go to school we'll be the young cool parents who all the kids admire. I can ride a motorbike and everything!". "But you don't know how to ride a motorbike" you laughed and Dino shrugged "so? I'm sure I can learn and don't you think now is a good time?". You laughed "hmm well you're more likely to get in an accident riding a motorbike than a car and we have our first child on the way...". Dino nodded his expression changed in seconds "of course what am I thinking? I have to be responsible and dependable for you and the baby too. No a motorbike won't do, do you think I should trade in my car for something more family-friendly?". You laughed "what happened to being the cool young dad?". "Forget that I want to be the safe dad who lives a long time and watches his child grow up". You smiled hugging him "well that sounds very good to me".   _____________ To note: even though these are "unexpected" pregnancies I wrote them with the idea that each couple did want to have children and so wanted the child that's why they kept the baby. Not every couple needs or wants to have children and of course no woman, pregnant person or couple should be forced to have a child just because they got pregnant. That's actually a pretty terrible reason to have a baby and I in no way wanted to reinforce that harmful idea. I also want to stay abortion is a more than acceptable alternative to having a child and everyone who has an abortion is valid.  Also not every couple needs a baby and I personally never want kids! I just thought it'd be cute to imagine Seventeen wanting a child and their partner getting pregnant :)

[luveline]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping. 

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered. 

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely. 

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap. 

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in. 

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them. 

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him. 

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you. 

Your phone rings a moment later. 

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too. 

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start. 

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.” 

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man. 

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?” 

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.” 

“And you want me to fix that?” 

“You always fix my neck.” 

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that. 

“I have bad posture.” 

“You have perfect posture.” 

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.” 

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.” 

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.” 

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.” 

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.” 

“What did I lose?” 

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.  

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.” 

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.” 

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.” 

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says. 

“Or I could make us both some?” 

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected. 

Cruel overpass, you think. 

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek. 

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later. 

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back. 

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill. 

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard. 

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain. 

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor. 

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth. 

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath. 

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something. 

Your phone rings on the counter. 

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins. 

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.” 

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.” 

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot. 

“Honey?” a voice asks. 

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays. 

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder. 

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off. 

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them. 

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says. 

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead. 

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.” 

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.” 

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.” 

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile. 

“I look tired,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it. 

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.” 

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile. 

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.” 

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.” 

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?” 

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.” 

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.” 

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea. 

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you. 

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?” 

“You said I can give her a hug.” 

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.” 

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says. 

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.” 

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs. 

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.” 

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room. 

You’re sleeping. 

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing. 

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze. 

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown. 

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic. 

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly. 

Jack stays sitting. 

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt. 

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown. 

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says. 

“When can she come home?” 

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you. 

“Why is she sleeping all day?” 

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.” 

“Should we go?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.” 

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees. 

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give. 

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap. 

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly. 

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession. 

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face. 

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms. 

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open. 

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again. 

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk. 

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.” 

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need. 

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively. 

Aaron lets out a breath. 

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W��gonna take care of you.” 

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some. 

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone. 

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.” 

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.” 

“I know.” 

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.” 

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. 

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.” 

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?” 

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder. 

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down. 

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying. 

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears. 

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic. 

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow. 

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow. 

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand. 

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk? 

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from. 

Where’s the worst of the blood? 

It’s everywhere. 

Abdominal? Chest? 

I can’t tell. I can’t tell. 

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but– 

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions. 

Honey, can you hear me? 

Your name said clearly. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” you murmur. 

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass. 

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface. 

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.” 

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.” 

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you. 

You close your eyes. 

“What stuck out?” 

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.” 

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?” 

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.” 

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.” 

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?” 

“I filled the kettle.” 

“What kettle?” 

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.” 

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?” 

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.” 

“When?” 

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says softly. 

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.” 

“Like he was quick on his feet?” 

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.” 

“How big did he feel?” 

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big. 

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember. 

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.” 

“When was this?” 

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers. 

“That was at the end,” you say. 

“After he stabbed you?” 

You wince. “Yes. After.” 

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.” 

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.” 

“When Hotch found you?” 

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks. 

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move. 

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room. 

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.” 

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose. 

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?” 

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much. 

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room. 

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron. 

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees. 

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay. 

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear. 

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread. 

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again. 

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.” 

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.” 

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep. 

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one.  He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you. 

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water. 

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.” 

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say. 

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Please.” 

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?” 

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?” 

“I don’t want to say it again.” 

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.” 

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?” 

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.” 

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread. 

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern. 

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.” 

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?” 

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop. 

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again. 

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative. 

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says. 

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world. 

“…This is my fault.” 

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep. 

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.” 

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.” 

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

“I know.” 

“No, I love you.” 

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?” 

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.” 

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.” 

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound. 

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both. 

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours. 

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says. 

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek. 

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises. 

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters. 

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.” 

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved. 

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone. 

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them. 

I won’t. 

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will. 

Foyet didn’t need much more than that. 

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either. 

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid. 

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner. 

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries. 

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this. 

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again. 

He rubs his brow. 

“You okay?” Emily asks. 

When he looks up, JJ is gone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” 

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says. 

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day. 

He can’t fail you, too. 

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks. 

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?” 

“Being in love.” 

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.” 

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks. 

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger. 

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says. 

He shakes his head. 

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.” 

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety. 

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.” 

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.” 

He turns his attention back to the board without another word. 

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest. 

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him. 

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks. 

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in. 

“Honey?” Aaron calls. 

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits. 

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!” 

“Hi, buddy, what are you doing?” 

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.” 

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask. 

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.” 

“How did you find him?” 

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.” 

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?” 

“Brave.” 

“I’m a coward.” 

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” 

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby. 

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless. 

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.” 

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.” 

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.” 

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue. 

“But it keeps happening.” 

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead. 

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?” 

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths. 

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–” 

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands. 

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says. 

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?” 

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.” 

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.” 

He looks at you in silence. 

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.” 

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?” 

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag. 

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed. 

But not everything. 

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head. 

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly. 

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Was Jack good?” 

“Jack’s always good.” 

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?” 

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.” 

“I can get those.” 

“I know, I knew you would.” 

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek. 

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely. 

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip. 

“My present?” 

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.” 

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him. 

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.” 

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

[temporaryrose200]

✩Without You✩

✟pairing: Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x GN Reader

✟genre: ⚠️Yandere⚠️

✟warning: ⚠️Mention Of Suicide Unhealthy Obsession, Toxic Relationship⚠️

✟One-Short

✟fandom: Twisted Wonderland

✟summary: Realising that your relationship with Kalim wasn’t healthy, you break up with him. It doesn’t go as planned…

You love Kalim, you truly do. He’s sweet, kind and thoughtful, what else could you ask for? But there was one problem. He was too clingy. Constantly stuck by your side, it was beginning to become unhealthy and slightly annoying. Sleepovers at his dorm started to become the usual. It was as though you were living there now. Whenever you tried bringing it up, Kalim would be quick to shut you down, changing the subject. But could only take those things for so long.

You rarely hung out with your friends anymore and when you did, Kalim was there by your side, with his ‘sweet innocent’ smile. You had finally snapped when your boyfriend somehow got all your classes changed to his. Kalim was becoming way too much to handle. So what did you do? It was time to break up with him.

“Please!” Kalim shouted, eyes watering as he blocked the exit, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He stared up at you with his watery red eyes. “Please” he repeated, the second-year's voice cracking slightly. “Don’t leave, we can talk about this.” It tore your heart to see Kalim like this, but it just had to be done. Your relationship just wasn’t healthy for either of you

“You have to move,” you said calmly. Your eyes tearing away from him, guilt eating away at you. Kalim didn’t move an inch though, his feet cemented to the ground. You could see tears slowly roll down his cheeks, but you just couldn't give in, not again… “Kalim-“ you spoke firmly but before you could say anything more, the white-headed teen dropped to his knees, hands clasping on your uniform.

You froze in place as the Prince buried his head into your stomach. “Please, please, please” He cried out over and over again until his words became incomprehensible. You could only stand there. What else could you do? You already felt terrible for making him like this, you couldn’t just push Kalim off you. And it didn’t help with people walking past and giving you a dirty look. Kalim had stopped. pulling his face away from your uniform and looking up at you, tears staining his cheeks. “Is it because I don’t pay enough attention to you” he stated. His face was serious and determined. “I’ll give you anything! Jewellery, the newest and most expensive clothes. You just name it, it’s yours!” He exclaimed a crazy smile plastered across his face, making your blood run cold. Trying to tell him that money wasn't the issue but he just wouldn’t listen, too caught up in his own world.

Suddenly, Kalim grabbed both of your hands, pulling himself up from the ground. “I need you” he whispered, eyes boring into yours. You tried to pull away but Kalim’s grip was surprisingly strong.

“Stop it” you begged, tears threatening to spill from your [Eye colour] eyes.

His grip on your hand only tightened, knuckles nearly turning white. “I’ll die without you” his voice was shaky and unsteady. He looked deranged.

Thoughts began forming at what the prince had just told you. Scenes played out in your mind of what he would do to himself. All because of you. “Please don’t” you muttered softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek. The words he used, the way he spoke, the look in his eyes, they all made you feel guilty. You knew this was his plan. To cry, to beg. Making you feel like the bad guy, like you were being a bitch. And what shocked you the most, it was actually working.

Kalim smiled softly releasing his grip off you. He raised his hands, cupping both sides of your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumb. "Then don’t leave me" he spoke gently. He didn’t even wait for you to respond. He already knew the answer just by the way you get out a defeated sigh. Not even wasting a second, he pulled you into a tight hug, whispering sweet honey words into your ear.

You could never leave. This was your life. Stuck in this toxic relationship. Even if you somehow manage to get yourself out of it, Kalim always gets what he wants. He will bring you back, he always finds a way.

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞 comparing you to their ex

✰ pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance, lots of angst

✰ warnings: cussing, skz mentioning reader’s insecurities, skz being red flags, slight mentions of manipulative behaviour, hints at cheating but no cheating, mentions of breaking up ( ikk it’s a lot because i just can’t fathom the fact that it’s been nearly 3 months since i last wrote angst )

✰ word count: 2.6k+ words i will better myself

౨₊ৎ chan

“i don’t get you these days,” you scoff over the call as you remind yourself of the main reason why you even bothered in the first place to get him a tub of ice cream in hopes that when he arrives back home he can rest and dig in.

“there’s nothing to understand babe. i told you that i can’t come home today,” the words slip out of his mouth without hesitation and the tone so casual that it makes you stare at his caller id in disbelief.

“i thought you were in the car on your way home?” you mutter nervously.

“i lied. i didn’t want to worry you plus there’s too much work baby. can you please try and understand that, hmm?”

“this won’t work on me. you lied chan! why would you lie? you could’ve just told me and i wouldn’t have wasted my time setting the couch and deciding on movies and buying you ice creams!” you sigh deeply.

“see? this is why i lied. because i knew you would scream at me when it isn’t even my fault,” you remain silent after hearing his words and there’s still evident clicking of keyboard from the other side.

“why are you trying to put the blame on me? chan it’s fucking 2 am and this is not the first time i had to stay up waiting for you to get back just for you to not come home!”

“who told you to wait? sleep for all i care! at least my ex didn’t bother me like this,” he mumbles but it’s hard not to hear him when your ears are just waiting for any sort of apology, instead they are welcomed with this.

“wow, thank you for telling me your true feelings. make sure you go back to her,” there is sarcasm in your words, but it’s only meant to hide the real fact of how bad it hurt you and maybe he knows it or maybe he doesn’t.

“baby i–” you end the call and before you know it, the tears start to flow down your cheeks.

just when did things go so wrong?

౨₊ৎ minho

he knew how easy it was for you to be overwhelmed. it was unfortunately not that easy to comfort you since nothing would make you feel better. but minho was there. always. he would sit beside you for hours and talk endlessly until a word that escaped his mouth would lift the corner of your lips.

it always felt so much better when you had someone helping you deal with your problems. it reassured you that someone truly did have your back. you couldn’t be any more thankful for having met lee minho.

it had been a few hours since you had locked yourself in your room, call it childish but being alone helped you gather your thoughts. while you sat on the floor with your head in your hands, minho kept banging on the door impatiently.

“open the door! stop being so immature and just open the door!” he yells as he starts to bang harder making you flinch at the action. with a defeated sigh, you get up and unlock the door before coming face-to-face with a flush faced sweaty minho. he stares at you angrily and grabs your wrist a bit too tightly before doing a quick scan of your body for any signs of injuries.

“do you even know how worried i was? gosh how can you even be so careless? i don’t think that i’ve ever seen my ex act that way,” the last part of the sentence is quieter as he trails off when the realisation strikes him.

“say that again,” you say, as if daring him to repeat his words. he looks away before muttering.

“i’ve heated up food for you, go eat it.”

“stop trying to change the topic! i heard you mention her loud and clear,” he groans at your words and looks back at you.

“so what if you heard me? i didn’t mean it and you know it,” he mutters and tries to grab a hold of your hand but you slap his hand before it can touch yours.

“i don’t think so i know it anymore minho. where is the guy i fell in love with? he would think at least a thousand times before saying something as hurtful as this,” you chuckle bitterly and walk past him.

maybe eternally was just a word meant for the world of fiction.

౨₊ৎ changbin

as soon as changbin’s feet crossed the line of the entrance to the apartment, his brows furrowed upon witnessing the messiest house. the smell of stale vegetables made him scrunch his nose in disgust and he covered his mouth with his hand before trying to search for you.

there you were, scrubbing the glass table vigorously and he sighed, “seriously?”

“what?” you look up at him in confusion making him look away.

taking a deep breath he looks back at you, “can i not expect the house to be in safe hands for even a day?”

“binnie it’s not like that i just—“

“i don’t want to hear your excuses anymore! we divided the chores equally then why don’t you do your part properly? i wish my ex had been here,” he spats and before you know it he bumps his shoulder against yours before walking away. not one ounce of regret.

all you wish was to turn back the time.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin

“you’re being dramatic hyunjin. i’ll be fine, besides i have my friends with me,” you try to reassure him but he wouldn’t budge even an inch from his firm decision.

“ the one who flirts with you? that friend?” he scoffs as if you just said something ridiculous.

this wasn’t the first time where hyunjin acted as if his words were meant to be obeyed. but he did very much mind the fact that you trusted some guy over him. no matter how hard you explain, he just finds one or the other way to insult your friend.

“don’t say that! you don’t know him that’s why you say it.”

“ i don’t care! i have no interest in knowing anything about him. don’t you think you’re being a little too carefree around him? i know guys like him pretty well,” he mutters while glancing up at you.

“stop behaving like you know everything!” you yell and glare at him. the remaining patience left in you had all reached the saturation point.

“stop being so damn adamant! that guy is no good! he’s trying to steer us away, if my ex was here she’d choose me over him,” he confesses and you can feel your heart drop and that feeling of suffocation begins to engulf you.

“right now i’d choose him rather than choosing you,” you spat and look away without letting him speak any other word.

perhaps even love marriage no longer reminded you of the good choices.

౨₊ৎ han

“do you think any girlfriend would trust their boyfriend around his ex?” you spoke as you followed him around the apartment as he picked up his things and placed them in his backpack.

“i think yes,” he mutters and glances at you for a second before looking away.

“well i don’t! she’s a manipulator jisung, listen to me! stop believing her lies!” you plead trying to remind him how bad she was.

“babe, you’re clearly exaggerating the situation! she’s just my client and i have to attend to her for today,” he sighs exasperated and rubs his temples in frustration.

“jisung… look i know it’s for your work but tell me how and when did she become your client? because for as long as i know your ex used to be a hairstylist,” you try to convince him to believe you but he does not even give you a glance.

he just sits on the couch with his legs crossed and his left arm rubbing his temples, his eyes are shut and his face is lowered, so you can’t predict what he’s thinking right now.

“babe, she’s my client, that's all i know and all i care. if she wasn’t my ex i’m sure she wouldn’t be that insecure in this situation,” he snapped, annoyance written bold on his forehead as he stared at you. all you could do was bite your lower lip and try not to give in to your mind telling you to cry. you couldn’t be any weaker, could you? you shouldn’t cry on these small things, you try to convince yourself but the way his expression does not falter makes your heart ache a little more.

“wow jisung, you’re so cool for using my weaknesses against me,” you mumble and stare at him blankly. your sentence was formed as if it were a joke, but there wasn’t any smile on your face. he looked up at you expectantly, that you were finally going to let him go.

so you did.

you let him go for good.

౨₊ৎ felix

“why are you doing this?” you sigh as you watch him browse through his wardrobe.

“you’re guilty and you have no right to say that,” he scoffs and continues to search for something particular in his wardrobe.

“where’s my brown hoodie?” he questions, turning around to look at you expectantly. his eyebrows are raised and there’s not the familiar expression of playfulness in his eyes anymore.

you gulp and lean against the wall, trying not to portray that the situation was that serious, “i don’t know,” you shrug and look down at your nails.

“you don’t… know? are you being for real right now?” he snaps and your gaze switches to him.

“stop yelling, i’m standing right in front of you,” you warn him with a defiant look in your eyes.

“fine, sorry. will you please tell me where all my hoodies are?”

“they’re in my wardrobe,” you mumble and watch as his gaze hardens back again, which makes you internally groan. just why were the two of you fighting over this stupid matter?

“babe please! i’ve told you a hundred times that the brown one was my favourite and i don’t like anyone wearing it. if my ex was here she wouldn’t have done this,” he ran a hand through his hair growing frustrated that you both didn’t understand each other.

“look it’s just that i don’t like it when someone does what i clearly told them not to,” he sighs and presses his face in his hands and lets out a muffled groan.

a minute of silence was all that was heard before you took your cue to speak, “it’s just a hoodie lixie, you didn’t have to take it this far,’’ the tears came as quickly as they fell. you had grabbed your coat and bag, heading for the door. you didn't think anything else could hurt you. but you were wrong.

he just stared down at the floor unmoving, he had no clue what to do anymore. all the time he spent courting you, all the flowers he brought you, were they nothing?

౨₊ৎ seungmin

“um, miss? the restaurant will be closing soon, we’re so sorry. would you like us to book you a cab?” you glance up at the waiter and shook your head with a tight smile on your face before heading out.

the night was surely chilly, but you didn’t care. at least not when you dolled up just for kim seungmin to not show up. it was supposed to be a dinner date with just the two of you as it was your third anniversary. three years of the two of you dating. three beautiful years… coming to an end?

you were tired. tired of constantly checking on seungmin just for him to hand up on you. tired of constantly worrying when he’ll come home just for him to say sorry everyday. tired of being played by his lies and broken promises. you were extremely tired and torn apart.

“babe-!” seungmin panted as he jogged up to you, the sight breaking your heart even more. it would’ve been better if he didn’t come looking for you. maybe then your heart wouldn’t hurt to say no to him next time.

“i’m sorry! i came here as soon as i got done,” he huffed and you threw him a quick glance. judging from the way he is breathing heavily he really did.

“clearly,” you mumble and look away, not giving in to him this time.

“baby, my boss held me back. you know how he acts during the end of the month, right?”

“no i don’t. and seungmin stop making excuses. if you wanted to, you could’ve told him or at least informed me? i was sitting in the restaurant for 3 hours looking like a total joke! do you enjoy this? enjoy making me suffer?” you yell and shrug his hand that was on your shoulder.

“don’t be like that, come on. i said i’m sorry. forgive me please?” he mutters and smiles a bit, in hopes you would say yes.

“i’m done with this,” you retort and begin to walk away but halt upon hearing him.

“dammit! i’m a grown ass man and i have a job that pays me! the same job that lets us eat! it’s just one date we can reschedule it next month as well! why do you have to be so stubborn all times? my ex would have more understanding in this situation,” he scoffs and you turn your head to stare at him with bloodshot red eyes.

“why did you have to make me fall in love with you?”

౨₊ৎ jeongin

there’s a soft smile plastered on your face as you knock on the door to jeongin’s dorm along with his members. the two of you had been dating for just over a year now and things were going pretty smoothly.

the door opens and you’re welcomed by felix’s wide grin as he pulls you in, “hey! you’re here!” you nod and give into his enthusiasm before looking around.

“jeongin’s inside,” felix chuckles when he notices you glance around the house, “what are you waiting for? you can go,” you smile sheepishly at his words and glance at the small bag food that you held in your hands before knocking on his door.

jeongin opens the door and you smile up at him but your smile falters when there’s no signs of happiness in his eyes. he just looks tired.

“why are you here?” he questions with eyebrows furrowed as he glances at the box in your hand and then back to you.

“i thought since you didn’t have lunch maybe we can have it together,” you mutter and lift the bag and show it to him but all he does is look at it blankly before scoffing.

“i told you i wanted to be alone!” he whisper yells and glances around the house. with a reluctant sigh he pulls you in the room and closes the door.

“jeongin… i wanted to be there for you baby,” you mumble and still try to muster a smile.

“well i didn’t want that! do you ever listen to anyone except you? i see you everyday! every single day! what else do you want from me? can’t i spend a day without you clinging around? i wish i never broke up with my ex,” he glares accusingly at you and you clutch the bag in your hands tighter as if it would decrease the pain.

“thanks for telling me i guess. at least i’ll know now whether you were faking it or not,” you head for the door before he can say anything.

“i’m sorry–” his words are cut when you leave the room and fling the door close in anger.

[purinfelix]

white ferrari ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing: joao felix x reader summary: you don’t really know how to respond when a familiar face shows up at your apartment doorstep, one you haven’t seen in almost half a year since a fated summer of both love and heartbreak. warnings: just a lot of angst <//3 w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i tried my hand at angst once more because I've been feeling unreasonably sad about joao leaving barca ... (this is all inspired by a singular white ferrari x joao edit i saw on tiktok) - hope you all enjoy!!

Get home, throw your keys onto the counter top and listen to the echo they make throughout your empty apartment. Kick your shoes off, undress, shower and then stare at yourself in the mirror for a little too long. If you’re feeling up to it, fix yourself something decent to eat, but most nights you go straight to throwing yourself into bed and scrolling on your phone in the dark until you feel tired enough to sleep, whenever that may be.

Sure, it’s a bit of a boring routine - some might even argue it’s sad - but it’s one you’ve grown far too use to to change up now. You’re just about to get to the latter steps of said routine when you hear a knock at your door - a sound that, at this time of night especially, is unusual.

Tentatively, you approach the door and crack it open just enough to whisper scream at whatever idiot is bothering you at this hour. That is, of course, before you realise it’s him.

He’s gotten a little tanner than the last time you say him, but of course that was last summer now, a bright memory in your mind that seems so far away you struggle to believe that he’s really here, in front of you. His hair’s the same, a little messier and longer albeit, and you really wish you could just get a look at his face but he’s trying his best to avoid eye contact with you, and you can’t help but pick up on the air of shame he’s giving off.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, Joao?” you scoff quietly through the tiny crack in your door, but he doesn’t do anything other than offer a smile that is somehow equal parts sad and apologetic. Immediately you feel awful for trying to lighten the mood, but you can’t help it, as bittersweet as it is you’re actually stupidly excited to see him here.

That is, until you open the door wider for him and notice the luggages surrounding him, waiting to be dragged in - so you’re just another pit stop after all, he really hasn’t changed. You shut the door without mentioning it though, following him through the dark as he trudges in. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that you don’t need to tell him to take his shoes off at the door, where to put his bags, or even where your bedroom is. It’d almost be sweet, if thinking of all the times he’d been to your place before didn’t feel like twisting a knife through an already bled-dry wound.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?” you call out, following him through the darkness, worry brewing in the pit of your stomach.

“Have you been keeping up with me?” he says, his voice soft as he finally turns around to face you, having made it to your bedroom.

“You mean, at your new club? Yeah, I’ve been trying to here and there, but I do have my own life after all,” you reply, desperate to make him understand that you’ve been trying to move on.

He offers an understanding nod before glancing around your room, “you got new bedsheets.”

“Yeah, quite a while ago actually but, I guess you wouldn’t have known.”

You’re still standing in the doorway of your bedroom, your arms folded over your chest, not really knowing why you suddenly feel so defensive at having him in your house, after so long of not seeing each other.

“Right,” he says, sitting at the edge of your bed a little awkwardly, as if it’s his first time doing so - and you both know it isn’t.

“Joao, what’s going o-”

“They’re letting me go,” he interrupts you, his eyes glued to the floor as he does.

“Wh- like the club? They’re not signing you again? But why? I thought you were doing well?” The questions pour out of your mouth before you realise it’s probably best not to pry, at least given the glimpse of his defeated expression you’re offered.

“I really wish I knew,” he sighs, “my old club is demanding a crazy amount of money for me though, so it might be that.”

Your heart softens a bit seeing him like this, and it suddenly occurs to you that perhaps the reason he came over tonight had less to do with the fact that he was seeing you and more with the fact he had to see someone. If you’re being honest, you know you should shrug and tell him ‘too bad’ and there’s a tiny part of you that wants to ask him why he never called after that one night, but you don’t.

Instead, you walk over to your bed, sit next to him and bring your hand up to cup his face. You let your thumb graze over it gently, trying to ignore the ache you feel in your heart when he looks up at you with such a gentleness in his eyes you feel like you might fall in love with him - again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come over tonight, I just, wanted to see you,” he mumbles into the palm of your hand, and it’s only now you notice he’s leaning in closer.

“It’s okay, I’ve been wanting to see you too,” you hear yourself admit, and it’s not until the words leave your lips do you realise how much you actually mean them. Your hand moves to stroking his hair, and you can visibly see him melt under your touch.

It makes you think of all those nights the two of you spent together, and how they were a little over half a year ago now. When he was the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed new loan to one of Spain’s biggest football clubs that you met at a beachside bar one summer night. How he almost seemed to glow in the sunset when he walked you home, telling you about how he was fitting in with his new teammates, how much better this club was than his old one, how much happier he was. And how happy you were to just listen to him, watch his beaming smile and the adoration in his eyes, to get a taste of his life.

Because, a taste was really all you ever got. It’s not like you were expecting the two of you to get married and live happily ever after but it tugged at your heart whenever he would show up at your doorstep or happen to bump into you at the farmers market he always knew you went to. He would show up almost every second day, and love you like it was breathing, only to slink away the next morning with whispers of “Just don’t tell anyone,” and “You understand, right?”. Since he was a big footballer, and a younger one at that, he couldn’t have anything damaging his chances right now, which was why the two of you could only meet in privacy. You hated it, and the sour feeling it left in your gut every time you watched him close your apartment door at early hours of the morning, but it wasn’t like you had any other option than to believe him - since your only other choice was to lose him, and that was out of the question.

But still, you managed to mess it up - that one warm evening when the two of you were walking side by side along the beach, as you so often seemed to do. Walking close enough that people knew you were friendly, but far enough so that no one would suspect anything more. You can remember looking down at his arms, which he show proudly showed off by rolling up the sleeves of the button up he was wearing, and wanting nothing more than to hold his hand - if not for the physical contact, then to show everyone on this beach and beyond that he was yours. But you knew you couldn’t, so instead you resigned to asking slightly uncomfortable questions, all to make him think a little bit more about your relationship - and by extension, you.

“So,” you hummed, eyes looking down at the imprints of your feet in the sand, “do you think we’ll ever be like, a proper couple?” You cringe a little at how childish your wording sounds, but you’d be lying if you said you knew any other way to word it.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him glance up at you, a little taken aback by the suddenly confrontational question. “Uh, I thought we spoke about this,” he begins, and you immediately feel stupid for even asking, “I can’t really do relationships at the moment.”

“Well, we didn’t really speak about it, it was more you telling me, but I guess yeah,” you mumble, and you don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling so snarky about this.

“I mean, this is fun, right? What we’re doing now? I don’t really have any problem with it.”

Of course he doesn’t*.*

“Right, I mean I don’t really either,” you’re lying through your teeth at this point, “but I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to do all the things couples do?”

“Sure,” he quips, and you can tell he hasn’t even give this, or you, a second thought before.

“So don’t you think there’ll be a day when we actually get to, you know, hold hands and stuff?”

“Maybe,” he hums, and you don’t miss the nonchalant, almost bored, tone in his voice and how he isn’t even bothering to look at you. “You know, I’m just really busy with training and games now so.”

”Right, I get that, I mean once this summer’s over I’ll have to get on with things too,” you say, giving him exactly the response you know he’s expecting.

He turns to look at you finally, giving you a proud smile at your words. “Well, I’ve got to get going now,” he says abruptly.

“Oh, okay,” you utter, “Call me, alright?”

“Yeah, sure!” he calls out, but he’s already halfway up the beach and you’re sure he’s barely heard you. And you stood there for a while, watching him jog away, your heart sinking further with every step he took in the opposite direction.

And of course, he never did call - and you’d be lying if you said you were totally surprised. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and all you were left with were those memories. Echoes of his laughter, the taste of his kisses, the ghost of his touch, all haunted your apartment which now felt hollow and empty. Of course, you managed to get on with it somehow, move past him and whatever had happened between you two.

And yet, here he was, again. You were still trying to shake the surprise that crept through you, but as you continued running your fingers through his hair in a soothing manner you can’t help but feel a sickening sense of deja vu. At seeing him here, at touching him like this, at him being here at all. Still, you think you could stay like this forever - but of course, you can’t and the heaviness in your heart urges you to break the silence before you do something you’re going to regret.

“So, what does this mean for you then?” It’s an awkward question, you can admit, and it shows on Joao’s face when he finally looks up at you - a little dazed and confused. You scoot a little bit away from him to lie down and he takes this as his sign to do the same.

“Hm? Oh, right,” he leans in a little closer as he lies down and for a split second you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he just lays his head down on your chest as he continues to talk, “I guess I’ll have to go back to my old club, I mean I’ve got no choice.”

“Right,” you say curtly, caught off guard by the suddenly affectionate gesture - and what might be disappointment at the fact he didn’t kiss you. You don’t push him off though, instead you continue to stroke his hair, looking down at him as he talks.

“I just,” he sighs, “I just thought I was doing well you know?” You nod understandingly and you can hear the frustrated disappointment in his tone, one you recognise from the times he’d lost games before and come over to rant all about them.

“I’m sure you were amazing,” you try your best to reassure him, and it seems to work as he nods against your chest. There’s a beat of silence, you feel his breathing slow and it’s only then you realise how tired he is - from how slow his movements have been this entire evening. You’re about to give in and let him fall asleep on you, but it’s his turn to break the silence this time.

“Today was actually the last game of the season,” his words aren’t the clearest, and you can tell he’s basically half asleep, “the rest of the team wanted to go out to celebrate but I just couldn’t go. Seeing them all smiling and laughing while knowing they’ve got a place at that club next season while I don’t, I just couldn’t do it, you know?”

You wish you could tell him how much you understand that feeling, but instead you just hum in agreement.

“I wanted to see you instead,” and for about the billionth time that night you find yourself taken aback by his words. “I’m sorry I never called.”

“I really wish you had, I missed you,” you respond, a little weary of how honest you’re being suddenly. But he needs to hear this, needs to know how he made you feel when he suddenly disappeared after weeks of loving you like nothing else mattered.

That is of course, before you recognise the soft rising and falling of his chest - he’s fallen asleep. Your heart aches a little at the sight, and you let out a sigh when you realise you’ve got no choice other than to lay there, arms wrapped around him, until you fall asleep too. You reach over to switch off your singular lamp, drowning the two of you in darkness. Staring out your window at the cool evening sky, you think about how much has changed since the two of you last lay together like this. How with the changing of the seasons you two became such different people, and moved on to different parts of your lives - but through it all, your feelings for him never seemed to fade, and for the first time in months it felt like you were being gifted some reciprocity. You could only hope Joao had changed enough to not repeat his morning routines, slipping away and leaving you alone once more. But until then, you were content with this - this small moment, that might not have mattered at all in the grand scheme of things, but was enough for you and your aching heart. If nothing more, to lay here with him in the darkness, the rhythm of his soft breathing lulling you to sleep, was enough.