#Sorry guys just updating my pinned post to be a little more well worded and informative!

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[circle-with-me]

You Move Like I Want To

Pairing: Vinny Mauro x Female Reader

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI!!! Porn without plot, smut, teasing, soft dom!Vinny, reader is kind of a brat, vaginal fingering, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, phone sex, facetime sex.

Word Count: 3k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @malice-ov-mercy @popppylove @tearfallpixie @synthetic-wasp-570 @nerdraging4point0 @valiantroeagleangel @lacktoesandtoddlerants @cookiesupplier @beaker1636 @meekahy

If you would like to be added to my tag list for Vinny or any of my other works, please sign up here.

Author’s Note: All of this started from my daily Vinny post and out of pocket tag by @ovhellfire 😂 Now here is… this filthy piece of work. That’s all I have to say for myself. This was not beta’d so I apologize in advance. Enjoy 😉

Getting your boyfriend worked up was your favorite thing to do, especially when he was away on tour. The longer he was away combined with the tension from your teasing made for incredible homecoming sex. You felt yourself getting wet just thinking about it.

You had been teasing Vinny all day, the poor thing. Sending him selfies with your breasts spilling out more than usual. Showing him the slinky little dresses you were trying on at the department store, making sure to pick out ones with the highest slit possible. He loved your hips and thighs and you wanted to make sure the dresses accentuated them perfectly.

Of course, you had no intention of actually buying them. This was all a game meant purely for your own satisfaction.

Later in the evening you thought you’d share your bubble bath with him. The photos were tame enough in the beginning. The standard bath selfie with nothing showing. It took him a while to respond and you got bored, so you decided to heat things up a bit. You roll over onto your stomach, resting on your left arm and stick your butt out of the water a bit. With your free hand you snap a selfie, making sure to flash your most mischievous smile in the process. Send.

A few minutes later, your phone pings.

Vin 💕 loved an image

“Are you kidding me?” You say aloud to an empty room.

Y/N: I think my ass deserves a better response than that, Vincenzo.

Vin 💕: Sorry, baby. We’re on the bus right now and the guys are right next to me playing video games.

Y/N: You know you have a bunk, right? ;)

Vin 💕: They’ll get suspicious if I go back there this early. You know how Ricky is. He’ll have a camera in my face the second I walk back there.

You groan. Fucking Ricky. Always cockblocking the two of you with his damn updates.

Vin 💕: I’m really sorry baby. Maybe later?

Never one to be deterred, you sit up and lean back against the bathtub. You collect what was left of the bubbles and cover your exposed breasts with them. You angle your phone the way you want it and raise your hips slightly so your pussy is barely visible beneath the water.

“Let’s see how he responds to this one.” You snicker.

The photo had barely shown as “delivered” and he had already responded.

Vin 💕: You better watch it, princess.

You shiver at the term of endearment. He only called you princess when he was especially worked up. The last time you got him to call you princess was not long before he left for tour. You had been bratty all day in front of his friends. He whispered a warning in your ear, much similar to the one he just sent you, but you continued.

The second the door closed and his friends had left, he had you pinned against it fucking you so hard your vision went white and you drenched his cock and your hardwood floors. You couldn’t sit right for days after. He smiled like an idiot knowing it was because of him.

You whimper loudly, the memory sending a shockwave of arousal through your core. Fuck, you were aching for him. Unfortunately for you, he was thousands of miles away and wasn’t offering any assistance.

Well, if he won’t help. You’ll just have to take care of things yourself and show him what he’s missing. Who cares if the guys were next to him and potentially saw the photos? Your cheeks heat up at the thought. Just the idea of them seeing you spread open for Vinny had your brain malfunctioning.

Your pussy is throbbing now and you can’t take it anymore. You get out of the bathtub and dry off. Slipping into your bedroom, you lay down on your bed and make yourself comfortable. Opening your legs you dip your fingers into your folds, spreading your arousal and moaning at the feeling.

You become so lost in your own pleasure that you almost forget about your mission. You blindly grab for your phone and take a photo, your fingers still deep in your cunt. You tilt your head back against the pillow and arch your back so he has the perfect view of your tits.

You press the button to send it and sit your phone back down. You must have lost track of time again because you’re suddenly jolted back to reality by the sound of Vinny’s ringtone. You scramble for the phone and look at the screen.

Vin 💕 wants to Facetime..

Your belly does backflips seeing his contact photo pop up. You could answer it immediately. As wet and needy as you are right now, you should answer it immediately, but where’s the fun in that? So, you let it go to voicemail.

He calls back immediately.

This time, you let it ring twice and then you hit the decline button. You’ve barely removed your finger from the screen and he’s already calling again. You can’t ignore him a third time, you think to yourself.

But you do. You giggle and sink further into the pillows. He was going to be so mad and you’re dripping at the thought.

Vinny calls a fourth time, and you let it ring a few times before you pick up. His face appears on screen, and you were right, he is mad.

“Princess…” he says sternly, the rasp in his voice shoots straight to your pussy. He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk with his arms propped up on his knees, hunched over. His red streaked curls were falling in his face, green eyes boring into you as he impatiently waited on a response.

“Hi baby!” You smile sweetly. Like you hadn’t just ignored his calls three times in a row. He huffs a laugh at your response. You adjust yourself and the camera so your breasts come into view and Vinny’s eyes immediately wander down to them. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you silently wish it was your clit he was licking instead.

“You’ve been very bad today, baby. Getting me all worked up when you knew I was busy. Ricky almost saw that last photo you sent me. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”

You bite your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to leave your mouth.

Vinny raises his eyebrows, a hint of jealousy and intrigue on his face.

“We’ll discuss that another time, but right now I think you owe me an apology.”

You stick your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “But baby, I just wanted you to see my outfit today..”

Vinny chuckles, “And what about all of those short dresses you were trying on?”

You shrug and look down, tracing the line leading down to your breasts. “I thought you might wanna pick out a dress for our first date when you get back…” You look back up at him seductively and flutter your lashes at him. A hum of amusement escapes Vinny. He wasn’t buying your excuses, but that wasn’t the point.

Vinny smirks at you and scoots back against the wall of his bunk. He rests his phone against the bottom of his stomach, right above his crotch, and the angle has you drooling. It was the same view from when you suck him off and you once again were cursing the distance between you.

“I suppose the bubble bath photos were just to prove you got clean today then, huh?”

Giggling, you nod. Raising the phone you give him the complete view of your naked body. “See? All clean, baby.”

Vinny’s eyes darken at the new angle. His right hand goes out of view and by the way his breath hitches you know he’s touching himself. You wiggle and arch your body, needing some form of movement to release the tension. As you move your legs fall open and Vinny sees your slick glistening in the light of your bedroom. He groans loudly and brings his fist up to his mouth to stifle it.

“Sending naughty photos. Playing with that pretty little pussy without me. What am I going to do with you, princess?”

Traveling down your body, your hand reaches your core. You gasp softly and spread your folds, bringing the phone a little closer so that he can see.

“Talk to me baby. Make me cum. Wanna see you cum, too.”

Vinny could have cum untouched from that sentence alone, not to mention the view. He palms his cock that is straining painfully hard against his jeans. He could do it. Make you cum with his voice and instructions, reach his own climax, and call it a night. It would be the easy option since he was out of town and not exactly alone.

He wouldn’t go with the easy option at home, why would he go with it now? His princess was naked and spread open for him, craving him and dying to cum.

Too bad you had been a fucking brat. You’d have to earn it. You had teased him all day. It was time for him to do a little teasing.

Vinny smirks. “Don’t worry baby, I'll make you cum.”

You sigh and lightly rub your clit. “Thank you so much, baby.”

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“B-but..” you stammer, confused. “You said you’d make me cum.”

“I’ll make you cum when I think you’ve earned it, princess. Now be a good girl, and listen to me, okay?”

“Yes sir” You mewl.

“Put the phone closer to your face, baby.”

You do as you're told, placing the phone in front of your face so he can see you better. Vinny’s eyes land on your mouth.

“Open up.”

Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out instinctively.

“Mmm, good girl. You already knew what I wanted.” You glow at his praise.

“Do you miss my cock, baby?” You nod and an “uh-huh” escapes from your throat.

“Show me. Use your fingers and show me how much you miss my cock.”

You bring your index and middle finger to your mouth and slowly drag your tongue from the base to your fingertips. Swirling your tongue around your fingertips, you suck them into your mouth. Vinny tries to hold the eye contact you’re making but is too mesmerized by the sound of you gagging as you shove your fingers further in your mouth.

Vinny would love to get his cock out and pretend it’s him you’re gagging on but the two of you have other areas to explore. He’s going to hold out as long as he can.

“Mmm… Wanna see how wet you got ‘em, honey” he hums.

Slowly pulling your fingers out you release them with a pop. Vinny’s eyes dilate as he watches the saliva drip down your hands and onto your wrists. Despite him not giving you permission, you stick out your tongue and lick up your arm collecting the saliva as you go. He shivers and you hold back a smile.

“Baby… let me see those gorgeous tits. Want you to play with them for me.”

You bring your saliva slicked fingers to your nipples and gasp softly. Tracing circles around your nipple slowly your free hand massages your other breast. Vinny licks his lips while you pinch and roll the buds between your index finger and thumb.

“Honey, can you get up for me? I have another idea.”

Nodding, you sit up and scoot towards the edge of the bed waiting for further instruction.

“Sit down at the foot of the bed. On the floor.”

You do as you're told. You had no idea what he was planning but you wanted to cum so you weren’t going to question it.

“Good girl. Now, prop the phone against the mirror in front of you so I can see you. I want to see all of you.”

Placing the phone against the mirror, you reposition yourself against the bed. You bend your knees and spread your legs, making sure to give Vinny a view of everything.

“God, If I wasn’t across the fucking country right now…”

You giggle and play with your breasts some more, sliding your other hand down your stomach and to your thigh. You make a show out of rubbing your breasts and inner thighs, softly moaning and rotating your hips. You were throbbing and if he didn’t let you touch yourself soon, you were going to explode.

“Rub your thighs for me, baby. That’s it… fuck…” Vinny palms his aching cock and the closer your hand gets to your pussy the more he wants to touch himself but not yet.

You couldn’t take it anymore though.

“Vinny, baby. Please. Please let me see your cock. I want to see you touch yourself. I’ll be so good for you, my sweet boy, please.”

Every ounce of self-restraint he had in that moment melted away in an instant. His mouth was so dry he was barely able to croak out an “okay”. Vinny was so flustered he couldn’t get his belt off quick enough and was muttering expletives as he fought with it. You giggle and he shoots you a glare before relaxing into a smile.

Vinny finally conquers his belt and pushes his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his belly. The tip was bright red and leaking. You grip your thigh and flex your hips upwards, silently and futilely begging for him to press inside you.

He watches you intently, placing his hand around his cock. Vinny whines, throwing his head back. He gives into the feeling and slowly thrusts into his fist. His face is twisted in pleasure and he’s already starting to sweat. Your eyes follow the curve of his jaw, down his Adam's apple. You’ve never wanted to sink your teeth into the flesh of his neck so badly before.

As much as you were enjoying the show, you were being selfish and feeling severely neglected. You shove your fingers back in your mouth and whine to get his attention. He doesn’t move his head, just looks down at you and smirks.

“Enjoying the view?”

You whine again, pouting around your fingers.

Vinny chuckles. “Aww, is my princess feeling neglected?”

You nod, still pouting.

He adjusts himself against the back of his bunk, hand never leaving his cock.

“You’ve been so good, honey. Why don’t you put those fingers to better use? Touch that pretty pussy for me”

Your hand flies to your mound massaging your swollen bud. All of the teasing and anticipation had built up so much tension that you felt dizzy from the pleasure. You apply more pressure and you see stars, your legs involuntarily shutting at the feeling.

“Uh-uh. Open your legs. Now.” Vinny says firmly.

With a whimper you open your legs, lazily drawing circles around your clit. You were so worked up and desperate for more you couldn’t keep still, your other hand keeping you upright as you squirmed against the carpet.

“I’ll let you play but you have to keep your legs open for me. You’ve gotta let me see. Understand?”

“Mhmm.”

“Do it again and you don't get to cum. I’ll make you wait until I get home.”

A shiver runs through you at the thought. He wouldn’t be home for nearly three weeks. You couldn’t wait that long and he knew you would obey him if he told you not to touch yourself.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me and keep your legs open?”

“Yes sir.” You nod enthusiastically, opening your legs wide for him.

He sighs in satisfaction. “Princess. I want to see how gorgeous you are when you finger your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open, a shocked squeak following. Wasting no time, you plunge two fingers into your drenched hole. You pump them in and out slowly, taking your time because you know Vinny wants to see every move you make.

The slow movements weren’t enough to satisfy the ache but you were happy to get any kind of relief at this point. You open your eyes to see Vinny fisting his cock, his eyes fixed on your cunt. Moaning loudly, you grind down hard against your fingers, the ache for him growing even stronger. You could feel the tightening in your belly and knew you weren’t going to last long.

Vinny sees your pussy clench around your fingers and knows you're close. His fist tightens around his cock but he wants to wait. He has to wait until you’re done.

The soft sighs that are falling from your lips. Your whines. The moans. The way your body is arching. How beautiful you look with your fingers in your soaked pussy. Vinny is completely enamored by every single part of you and he cannot stop staring. He tries so hard to wait on you but that all goes to hell as soon as you call out his name.

“Vinny… please…” He could listen to you beg for him until the end of time. “Cum with me, baby.” and that’s all he needs. Vinny cums with a choked sob. His stomach tenses and his legs shake. Warm cum spills over his hand, dripping down and around the rings he’s wearing. When he comes down you’re still shaking and crying out for him and he wishes like hell he had another in him because he swears it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Doing so good for me.” He coaxes you through your orgasm until you’re out of breath.

Once you catch your breath you crawl towards the phone and grab it. You lay back down on your bed and focus on him. He had placed his phone against the wall and was removing his rings, cleaning his hands with a dirty t-shirt that was nearby.

“Ya know, if I was there I would clean up all of that for you. Rings and all.” You giggle, licking your lips.

Vinny’s head whips in your direction.

“You better watch it, princess.”

[drawing-you-as-a-critter]

38 asks while I slept...good lord! Hi, everyone! I have filled up the queue with some of your requests I finished and throughout the work day I'll get to the rest of them, I guess, because everyone wants to have a little guy.

Oh, and because my inbox was filled pretty quickly over night, I've discovered some things I need to take into consideration as rules for future designs! I will be updating the pinned post as well for everyone, but what you need to know is:

Some of the requests being sent in have been really specific and have listed features or ideas you'd like to have on the design I make. While I appreciate the interest, these are supposed to be ~10min or less doodles that I do for fun to stretch my design muscles! I cannot spend the time or energy to tailor a design exactly to what you'd like with over 30+ asks a night. If I do, I'll get burnt out fast, and this blog won't be able to happen.

So, for your sakes and mine, let's keep the designs suggestions just to sent in pictures, concepts or characters that I can design my own way! If you're really, really interested in getting a design made by me that is tailored to specific traits and elements you want included, I have a commissions carrd here that is currently still in progress of being made-- All I need to do is finish putting more references on there and make a $10-15 "critter design" tier just for you guys. Feel free to look at the things that are there for now and consider putting in a request for when I do get that tier set up!

Sorry for not bringing this up sooner, I just hadn't known this blog would get as popular as it did so quickly and wasn't thinking of how that wording may need to be changed. Thank you all for your continued interest in the blog and I will do my best to get through all of these as fast as I can!

[marzmeltdown]

Familiar Taste of Poison - pt.3

⌦ Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!Reader ⌦ Genre(s): series,, angst,, fluff ⌦ chapter specific genre: fluff,, angst ⌦ Warning(s): !!TW: LIGHT MENTIONS OF Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse, mentions of depression!!, reader kinda uses Wonwoo, a lot of this will be in multiple pov's(I will clarify when it changes pov's), some mention of being sick, swearing, most of this chapter is all Wonwoo's pov, Wonwoo goes on a date with someone else. ⌦ Word count: 3.07k ⌦ Summary: You and Wonwoo have been friends since childhood, though you're both a little estranged from one another, the only contact being when you call Wonwoo for help. ⌦ A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than the last two but a lot happens to push the plot forward. It's really random that I put skz in here but I needed someone who had a sister. Fun fact about me, cause it's brought up in this chapter: I'm allergic to apples. The end of this chapter almost had a bitch crying at 4 am. If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on this story and everything else I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:) ⌦ I have attached a link to a website with help hotlines around the world, this series has heavy themes of mental health and substance abuse. This link will be added to every chapter. ⌦ International Mental Health hotlines

⌦ Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

⌦ marz’s tag list ⌦ marz’s req form

⌦(Wonwoo's pov) It had been a little while since he had heard from you; granted, you had never gone longer than a month without needing him to clean up your messes. This new-found silence from being your knight in shining armor allowed him to begin streaming again. For awhile, he had stopped because your calls of need would come in at least 4-5 times a week.

To say he missed you would be an understatement; he would lie awake after a long night of streaming, waiting for his phone to ring so he could pick you up. After three weeks of no calls, he began to believe that you had fully forgotten about him, all because of a little spat that he could've handled better. He had plans to express how he felt about you, but the world had different plans that day. Maybe you two just weren't meant to be friends anymore.

Wonwoo had tried to take his mind off things; he would distract himself by playing video games until the sun went down. That night, like every other night, he stayed up to play online with a few friends.

"If I die one more time because you're not paying attention, I'm gonna strangle you," Vernon threatened through Wonwoo's headphones. To be honest, Wonwoo was a little distracted today; he kept glancing down at his phone, hoping for a call, a text, or something.

"Sorry, I've just got a lot on my mind," Wonwoo replied, the sounds of his mouse clicking and keys clacking filling his room and his eyes beginning to grow tired from staring at such a bright screen for an extended period of time.

"Woo, you need to let her go. She's clearly not interested in your friendship and hasn't been for awhile," Minghao said. If Minghao were talking to anyone else, they surely would've been offended, appalled that he could say something so cold so calmly, but Wonwoo appreciated his honesty; he wouldn't want Minghao to be any other way.

"I agree with Hao; you should put yourself out there; stop waiting for someone who isn't hurting without you," Seungcheol chimed in, everyone having paused their game to give Wonwoo some free therapy while they sat in the Fortnite lobby.

"Are you guys suggesting a date?" Wonwoo asked, pushing his glasses up as he put his hands on his face, muffling his question just a bit.

"Well, I wasn't, but I know someone who'd be great for you," Seungcheol said. He could hear the shrug in his voice, playing matchmaker so nonchalantly. "I'll send you her info; she thinks you're cute anyway," he added. Within seconds, his words were emphasized by the sound of Wonwoo getting a text message. He glanced at the notification, half hoping it was from you and half hoping it wasn't.

It wasn't.

Wonwoo opened his phone, seeing that Seungcheol had sent her Instagram profile along with her phone number. He clicked on the link, leaning back in his chair as he scrolled through the professionally taken photos that filled the girl's profile.

"She is really cute," Wonwoo said, clicking on a few photos. There was a familiar face in a few of the photos, though they looked too much alike to be anything more than siblings.

"Seungcheol, is this Chan's sister?" Wonwoo asked, zooming in on one of the photos to get a better look at the girl's alleged brother.

"Bang Chan?" Seungcheol asked.

"Yea, Bang Chan,"

"Yea, why?"

"Just curious," Wonwoo said. He chewed on his bottom lip as he swiped back into his messaging app, looking down at the series of numbers Seungcheol had given him. "You said she thinks I'm cute?"

"Yeah, she talks about you all the time at work," Seungcheol said.

"Well, I'll text her when we get off. Wanna go for one more round?" Wonwoo asked, setting his phone down and getting ready to unpause the game.

"Sounds good," everyone said, continuing with their match.

One game turned into two.

Two games turned into four.

4 turned into 6.

By the time Wonwoo looked at the clock on the PC that displayed his Discord server, he was shocked.

3:26 a.m.

Wonwoo must have really had a lot on his mind; he never stayed up this late, not unless you had needed his help. He yawned, stretching his back when they were back to the games lobby, cracking his neck as it had grown stiff from sitting hunched over a keyboard for so long.

"I think I'm gonna get off guys, I'm getting tired," he said, not waiting for them to object before closing the game and turning his headphones, mic, and pc's off. Wonwoo grabbed his phone as he got up, walking to his closet to grab a pair of night pants and changing into them.

He unlocked his phone, looking at the number again as he began brushing his teeth. After a moment of hesitation, he finally added Hannah's contact information to his phone, messaging her as soon as he finished brushing his teeth.

⌦ Wonwoo: Hey, it's Wonwoo. I know this is super random, but Seungcheol gave me your number, if that's okay.

Wonwoo didn't expect an immediate answer; it was almost 4:00 in the morning. He looked at the unopened message as he left the bathroom, slipping his phone into his pocket and turning off the light. His phone dinged as soon as he walked into his room, and he only opened it once he had lied down in bed.

⌦ 3:55 a.m.

⌦ Hannah: Hey, Wonwoo! It's totally chill; why're you up so late? (Read 3:55 a.m.)

Wonwoo found himself smiling at her message and answering immediately.

⌦Wonwoo: I could ask you the same thing, lol. (Read: 3:57 a.m.)  ⌦Wonwoo: But I was playing Fortnite with Cheol and a few other friends and lost track of time. (Read: 3:57 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: That sounds like a lot of fun. (Read: 4:00a.m.) ⌦Hannah: Why did Cheol give you my number anyway? (read: 4:00 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: Uh, he's trying to play matchmaker. (Read: 4:00 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: Right (Read: 4:01 a.m.) ⌦Hannah: Well, what are you doing tomorrow? (Read: 4:01 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: Nothing as of right now. (Read: 4:02 a.m.)  ⌦Wonwoo: Why are you trying to ask me out? (Read: 4:02 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: Yea. (Read: 4:02 a.m.)  ⌦Hannah: How's coffee sound tomorrow at noon? (Read: 4:02 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: You're straight to the point, aren't you? lol (Read: 4:03 a.m.)  ⌦Wonwoo: But, noon tomorrow sounds great! (Read: 4:03 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: Great, I'll send you the cafe's info tomorrow. I'm about to fall asleep (Read: 4:03 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: Awesome, sleep well (Delivered: 4:04 a.m.)

Wonwoo reread the small interaction he had with Bang Chan's sister, smiling softly as he put his phone on the charger. He turned off his light, took his glasses off, and went to bed.

⌦(Wonwoo's POV cont) Wonwoo was thankful for his habitual routine of waking up at 9:00 a.m. every morning, regardless of when he went to bed. He forgot to set an alarm, having fallen asleep as soon as he put his glasses on his nightstand. Waking up this early gave him a few hours to kill before he had to get around, creating a schedule in his head for how long it would take him to eat breakfast, take a shower, shave, get dressed, and drive to the cafe. He planned on being 15 minutes early; he was always early.

Hannah had already sent Wonwoo the address of the cafe; thankfully, it was only a fifteen-minute drive from his apartment complex with traffic. He ate a light breakfast of two pieces of toast and a glass of apple juice; he'd be damned if he were going to willingly drink orange juice. He rarely ate toast, but with few food ingredients in his fridge or cabinet, toast was his only option.

With thirty minutes to spare after getting ready, Wonwoo grabbed his keys, locking his door as he left to go to his car. Hannah was already at the cafe when he got there, sitting in her car as she waited. Wonwoo parked next to her, pulling out his phone to let her know he was there. When she looked up from her phone, he waved at her with a smile, stepping out of her car to greet her on the sidewalk.

"Hey! I'm so glad you could make it," Hannah smiled as she pulled the taller male into a hug. Wonwoo was stunned at first; she surely was a bold woman, which he seemed to like about her.

"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, hugging her back for a moment before they pulled away and walked into the cafe.

It was a small cafe owned by a sweet elderly couple from France. The cafe always had French music playing softly through the store speakers; normally, Wonwoo would have found it nice and cozy, but today it felt cheesy. The two sat down after having ordered their drinks, exposing the poor barista to a small argument over who was paying for their drinks. Hannah won.

"So, tell me about yourself." Hannah smiled, taking a sip from her cappuccino before moving it to the side of the table so she could place her elbows on it, letting her chest rest against her forearms.

"There's not much to know," Wonwoo chuckled, swirling his straw around in his Americano and watching the ice move around with it. "But I'm in college for mechanical engineering, I stream on Twitch sometimes, and I'm a big Marvel buff," he said after a moment.

"Mechanical engineering? So you're smart and cute, huh?" Hannah teased, smiling at the redness that grew on Wonwoo's cheeks from her compliment.

"Tell me about yourself," Wonwoo said, directing the conversation back to the original topic.

"Well, I'm in college for fashion design; I also really like Marvel; and I want to get into PC gaming," she said. Wonwoo looked up at her, stunned that Seungcheol had finally set him up with a girl who shared some of his same interests, and he was already friends with her brother.

Wonwoo was pulled out of his thoughts as his phone rang in his pocket. He looked down at his pants and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Your name and contact photo were displayed on his screen; seeing this made his smile drop slightly. He clicked the side button, silencing the call, before looking up at the girl he was on a date with. "Sorry about that; I thought I put my phone on silent," he said as he placed it back into his pocket.

"It's no problem; if it's important, you can step out and answer it; I won't be upset," Hannah said, gesturing to the window that the two were sitting by. Wonwoo shook his head.

"It wasn't, and besides, it'd be rude to answer a call on our first date," he said.

"And you're considerate? Well damn, I might ask you to marry me right here," she laughed. She stood up after a moment, and in that moment, Wonwoo half expected her to get down on one knee and ask her to marry him. Instead, she grabbed her coffee with one hand and his hand with the other, pulling him up from his seat. "Wanna go on a walk?" She asked, swaying their hands back and forth.

"Are you gonna murder me?" Wonwoo asked, grabbing his coffee from the table.

"I might," she winked, sipping her cappuccino once more.

"At least you're honest," Wonwoo chuckled. His phone began to ring again once they left the building. He looked at it and canceled the phone call.

"Wonwoo, if you need to answer that, I don't mind," Hannah reassured as they began walking along the pathway.

"I don't, I promise." He said.

The walk was nice, and Wonwoo and Hannah seemed to be getting along a lot better than he would have ever imagined. It didn't take long for it to start raining. May's weather was never consistent, which seemed to be the only consistent thing in Wonwoo's life. Inconsistency. Wonwoo had given Hannah his sweater as they walked back to their cars; only when Hannah safely got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot did he leave.

He looked at his phone for a moment, seeing that he had five missed calls and ten messages from you, asking for your help. He almost answered the texts, apologizing that he was busy and couldn't get to his phone. Just as he was about to send his text, he sighed, thinking about what his friends had told him only 12 hours ago. Instead of sending the text, he closed his phone and drove home.

⌦(Reader's POV) You groaned angrily when your phone went to voicemail for the second time. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Was he still mad? Your head began spinning, even though you couldn't tell if it was because of your impaired state or because Wonwoo was finally giving you a taste of your own medicine. You had ghosted Wonwoo for the better half of your freshman year of college, having found new friends and devoting all of your weekends to partying, so when you finally got ahold of him, he was shocked.

"He works from home; where is he?" You said it angrily, your plethora of messages having been delivered but unread for the better part of two hours. That was what really set you off. He couldn't even give you the respect to apologize.

Against your better judgment, you snatched the keys from your kitchen counter and stumbled out of your apartment, having decided to confront him at his apartment. You've had a few years of practice when it came to driving under the influence, taking back roads, watching the road extra carefully, and driving cautiously, it was easy. Parking your car, you stormed up to his apartment, noting that his car wasn't in the parking lot when you had gotten there.

You called him again.

and again.

and again.

Until finally, you gave up on calling him and decided to send him a hundred more text messages.

⌦You: Wonwoo, I need your help... (Delivered: 11:00 a.m.)

⌦12:45 p.m.

⌦You: Wonwoo, why aren't you answering me??? (Delivered: 12:46 p.m.)

⌦12:57 p.m.

⌦You: Hello? Where are you??? (Delivered: 12:58 p.m.)

⌦1:05 p.m.

⌦You: I'm at your place (Delivered: 1:05 p.m.) ⌦You: Hello!!!!! (Delivered: 1:05 p.m.)

Just as you were about to call him again, you saw that all of your delivered messages had been read. You watched as the three dots by Wonwoo's name appeared.

Then disappeared.

Appeared again.

Until they disappeared for a final time.

Your texts to Wonwoo began to be sent one right after the other, sitting with your back against his front door as you drunkenly blew up his phone. Fifteen minutes had passed before you saw a pair of feet standing in front of you. You looked up and saw the man in question.

Angrily, you stood up shoving your phone in his face as you began to speak.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for two hours now! Where were you?!" You yelled, and Wonwoo gently pushed your phone out of his face. He looked down, unlocking his front door before opening it to let you in. He waited for you to walk inside, quietly apologizing to his elderly neighbor before stepping inside himself.

"I got coffee," he said, setting his keys on the table by his front door and taking his shoes off.

"It took you two hours to get coffee." You asked in disbelief, crossing your arms as your blurred vision did its best to lock onto him.

"You didn't let me finish," he continued. He sat the now-empty to-go cup on his kitchen counter. "I was on a date."

Your heart dropped, and you weren't sure why either. He was only your friend, your shoulder to cry on, and your emergency contact because you knew he would bend over backwards for you.

"Oh," you said.

"Yea."

"You still could have answered after she left," you said. Your anger had softened just a little bit.

"Why? So I can pick your drunk ass up from some stranger's front lawn? It's 2:30, and you're already fucked up." He said, "Your jaw dropped. What was his deal? Why was he being like this?

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you being such a dick all of a sudden?" You asked.

"Because I'm tired of only seeing my best friend when she needs me to be her chauffeur because her other friends left her strung out on God knows what in some stranger's bathroom because she's too drunk to get home." He said. You could see that his words were hurting him just as much as they were hurting you; he wasn't making eye contact with you either. "I can't drop everything to come save you every time you need me; I have a life too," he said. This time his words were soft, almost upset that he'd finally told you how he really felt.

"Fine. I'll leave then." You said this, stepping toward the door only to have the pathway blocked off. "Wonwoo, get out of my way."

"No, I can't let you drive home like this," he said.

"Wonwoo. Get out of my way." You repeated. He didn't move.

"No," He said.

"Now you care about my safety?"

"I've always cared about your safety!"

"Evidently not; evidently it was a burden to you!"

"Do you know why I always dropped everything to come get you?" He snapped.

"To feel better about yourself?" You asked, your words laced with anger. Your eyes began brimming with tears, and your body began to shake. You need to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Because I love you, y/n!" Wonwoo snapped back. He stopped for a second, realizing what he had just said.

"What?" You asked, finally looking up at him.

"I love you.. and it kills me that you're killing yourself like this, but I can't be around you anymore if you're going to continue to hurt yourself. I will always love you, y/n; I hope you know that." He said this, grabbing his keys off the table once more. "Let's go; I'll take you home." You were sure this would be the last time you'd ever hear from him again.

[dykedonalds]

I'm Molly, I'm 22, and I am a reidentified butch lesbian. This is my experience with transitioning and sexuality, and how and why I got here.

At 13 I started experiencing dysphoria and was told by online communities and friends that that meant I was trans. I came out to my parents at 15, started testosterone at 16, started "living as a man" ("passing" and getting referred to as and treated as a man by strangers) at 17, and had a double mastectomy at 19.

Transition is by far not any sort of cure for dysphoria, and is certainly not the best, most effective, or safest way to help dysphoria...but as much as I remind myself of that, as much as I thoroughly understand that, I can't argue that it didn't alleviate my dysphoria greatly. This isn't me saying that I or anybody with dysphoria should medically transition, or that it isn't a money making industry, or that it isn't taking advantage of dysphoric homosexual youth, this is just me saying that there is a reason so many of us have chased it. It felt good, and it still feels good in a way I don't like to admit.

I am aware that deeply ingrained misogyny, homophobia, and rejection based self loathing are what caused my dysphoria, my discomfort with my breasts, my hips, my high voice, etc...but I am not going to try and lie and say that it doesn't feel good to have a flat chest, to have slimmer hips, to have a male passing voice, and to be able to pass as a man if I want to. If I could go back in time and stop myself I would and I would encourage myself to seek therapeutic methods of acceptance instead, but it still feels good.

From 13 to 18 I identified as a "gay trans man". Looking back, this was likely the result of envying the biological sex and gender roles of men, being afraid to socialize with gender conforming girls or women, and being too uncomfortable with my body and sexuality to actually have or even think about having any sort of sexual experience.

At 19, when I actually started having sexual and romantic experiences, I was strictly "T4T"...meaning I only was interested in and attracted to other trans men, more often those who hadn't yet or didn't want to transition. Meaning that when I started having sex, I only wanted to do so with other women. I also started identifying as non binary because it "felt more right". I think this was because I was subconsciously inching my way "closer" to understanding myself as a lesbian.

At 20 I was still calling myself non binary, but bi instead of gay, no longer just T4T and extended my pool of sexual interest to women as well. My "genital preference" was nagging me in the back of my head. Still delusioned by trans rights activism and the rules of gender and sexuality that come along with it, I felt I could either be bi and be quiet about my genital preference, or I could be a non binary lesbian (and claim my butch identity) and be quiet about my genital preference and also never express my attraction to any trans identifying female.

And I decided to take the route of identifying as a butch lesbian. A lot of TRA circles, or at least the ones I am in, are surprisingly and ironically ready to except me as a lesbian who is transitioned. Of course they are doing this on merit of me saying "I am a lesbian" rather than because I am a female who is exclusively attracted to other females.

This acceptance of self was what ignited my changing perspective because it created an obviously true and easy to follow line of logic that was very very hard to ignore, and that I was only able to ignore for about half a year. This line was:

I am a female. I am attracted exclusively to females. I have certain experiences with sexuality, gender non conformity, and gender dysphoria that are only shared by other females who are attracted exclusively to females. There should really be a word for this. There is, it's "lesbian".

This realization led to many many more realizations and I started viewing transess, what it stands for, how it operates, and who it affects more broadly, and when I took in the whole picture, trans rights activism within the context of the world, I understood how real biological sex is. I understood that while the concept of gender identity is something that can make being homosexual and being gender non conforming seem less scary, it is not eliminating or fixing or lessening what makes those things difficult in the first place. I understood that it makes room for heterosexual people, especially heterosexual men, in homosexual and women only spaces. I understood that female is a class. By 21 I was understanding that all the things I had been warned not to listen to "terfs" about are true.

I sympathize with trans identified people, mostly the female ones, and acknowledge that many of them face the same oppression and marginalization that homosexuals and/or women face, though I also acknowledge that when they face these issues they are facing them as a result of homophobia and/or misogyny. Not as a result of "transphobia".

I also sympathize with transitioned trans people, not only because I have been in their position, but also because the industry of medical transition was made to easily take advantage of homosexual and gender non conforming youth, and I do not want to blame said youth for being coerced and fear mongered into it.

My social life is still mostly TRA circles because most of my friends are trans identified females, and (selfishly) because I'd rather be quiet about this and have a plethora of gender nonconforming homosexual female friends than be exiled from the communities I've planted myself in. And that's just the way it is for now.

If you read all this, thank you. And if you didn't, I understand.

[the-kipsabian]

Hey! I know its a bit out of the blue but Im reaching in hopes if you could possibly help boost/share the post i pinned for my cat? We desperately need some help rn, im so sorry if I did bother you, I hope you stay safe. Pls consider answering this ask privately or maybe send me a msg. 🙏❤️

you know what

no 🙏❤

hey kids, lets play a game of spot a scam again!! (i'd copy and paste the previous one but tumblr search is worthless and apparently that ask isnt tagged in my blog for some reason or just doesnt exist anymore buT ANYWAYS!!)

okay this is literally the same story ive seen before at least three times. its word to word the same. youre not even trying

reblogs only from original posts. they have gotten "smarter" tho as this blog followed me in attempts to try to show its "real". and yet they havent reblogged from blogs they supposedly follow, only from probably the top posts from some cat tag and only from original posters

their only original post as far as i scrolled (which admittedly wasnt very far as its obvious this is a scam lol) is the donation post. unsurprisingly

ive said it before and i'll say it again - they seem to target people in similar positions that they are supposedly in, trying to pluck that sympathy cord with "your pet is sick so you are sensitive and know how this feels". also bitch if im asking help to pay my vet bills what makes you think i can help you LOL

"pls consider answering this ask privately" lmao so what people dont know youre a scammer? NEXT

a simple search even within tumblr tells you people already know about this. the account, the story and the cat. you aint fooling anymore

if unsure kids, ask a friend and google things 👍 reverse image search, for example, is your best friend!!

also kids, in case youre asking "well what bad could a one little me reblogging a post even if its a scam do if i dont donate :/" 1. im sorry what and 2. it makes them look legitimate which they are not. the more notes the more trusted the source cause tumblr is full of idiots (sorry not sorry ive been here for over 11 years i know what people are like) plus you put your friends, mutuals and followers in a risk of participating in a scam. and have your name associated with it as well. do i need to go on?

anyways hi go report this blog and always be hesitant if someone you dont know asks you for donations like this. unless its a beloved mutual on your dash, reconsider. stay safe, thanks 💜

//update 1. seeing their blog requires a login lmao and 2. they only followed me for me to notice and idk if they unfollowed afterwards immediately or already blocked me so hey cool look guys a proven scammer <33 just fyi <3

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

[ssahoodrathotchner]

Pictures of You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you lose your memories of the last few years, including the ones of your relationship with Aaron. The rest of the team thinks it’s hilarious.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: memory loss, swearing, some angst, hospital, talk of injuries, team shenanigans and fluff

A/N: okay this was a lot of fun to write bc soft!Hotch rights !! also really wanted to make the team play a larger role in a fic so here we go :)

Masterlist

---

You wake in a hospital bed, Morgan by your side, and a godawful pounding in your cloudy head. With a groan, you try to raise one of your hands to cover your eyes as Morgan’s head shoots up to stare at you with a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hand before you can lift it higher, “Don’t do that. You had a nasty fall, Princess.”

Satisfied that you won’t make any more moves towards your head, he sits back down at your side.

“Should I even ask how you’re doing or…” he trails off when you glare at him. “I’ll go let the team know you’re okay. Boss Man will be happy to hear you finally woke up,” and with that, Morgan is up and out of the room before you can even open your mouth because what.

Shifting around in the bed, you try to gauge just how injured you are, but the soreness in literally your entire body coupled with the haziness in your mind from the constant pain makes you conclude that you’ll leave it to the doctors to tell you what’s wrong. Sighing, you gently tilt your head to the side and observe the various beeping monitors.

The door opens and as you turn to see who it is, your mouth opens in disbelief. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no fucking way. This is fake. This is a dream. Your stomach simultaneously drops and fills with dread. How is this possible?

“You’re dead. You’re dead. We buried you,” you say in a rush, as none other than Emily fucking Prentiss stops by the side of your bed, looking at you confusedly. “Does this mean I’m dead? Are you a ghost?” you wonder out loud, and Emily looks behind her as the rest of the team, except Hotch, file in behind her, seemingly fine with her sudden appearance.

“How are you here, why are you here, what happened? You died. You’re supposed to be dead which means I’m probably dead,” you continue to ramble, frantically looking from at each member of your team and then back to Emily.

“What? Y/N, you aren’t dead. Just like I’m not dead,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you are,” you say shakily, chest tightening as your breaths become shorter and shorter.

“Y/N…” she says slowly, softly, “I faked my death four years ago.”

And with that, your ears rush and your mind goes blank. No no no no no no we buried her six months ago, she’s dead. You don’t notice the rest of the team trading glances around you as the world you thought you knew shatters and reforms in your mind.

“No,” you croak, throat suddenly constricting, but Emily only looks at you worriedly, Reid slipping out the door behind her.

“Y/N, can you take some deep breaths for me?” and your head turns to find JJ at your other side, hand on your shoulder. “Let’s breathe, you can do this,” she says, taking exaggerated breaths to demonstrate, smiling gently as you cooperate.

Reid enters, now, followed by a doctor who, immediately upon reaching your side, proceeds to shine a light in your eyes and asks you to complete all sorts of short tests while the team looks on.

“Now, Agent Y/L/N, Dr. Reid informed me that you seem to be having some memory issues, which is normal,” the doctor assures you, “especially with the head trauma you endured. So, tell me what you can remember and we’ll go from there,” he says with a helpful smile.

Fuck. What do you remember?

“Well…” you trail off, trying to pin-point an exact moment. “I remember Emily—Agent Prentiss’—funeral because it was six months ago, but apparently—” your eyes slide over the rest of the team, “—apparently, it was more like four years ago,” you finish slowly.

“And that’s as recent as you can remember?” the doctor pushes. You nod your head. “Well, Agent Y/L/N, it seems that you have post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which isn’t a surprise, as I said before. My guess is that it’s temporary, and that you’ll recover your memories in time.”

“Any ideas how long?” Emily speaks up, carefully looking at your face.

“With cases such as these, there isn’t a definite timeline or standard procedure for memory recovery,” the doctor explains. “It may help to look at photos or videos and tell stories to try and help Agent Y/L/N heal quicker, but the brain is tricky,” and with that wonderful statement, the doctor turns and exits, leaving you and your team staring at each other, processing the fact that you don’t know when you’ll get your memories of the last four freakin’ years back.

“So, from the research I’ve done, it seems that—” Reid is cut off by the door flying open and Aaron Hotchner, your Unit Chief, bursting into the room with a concerned look on his face wearing a hoodie and jeans.

Morgan tries to grab his shoulder, but Hotch shakes him off as he walks right up to your bedside and grabs your hand. Holy shit. Heat rises to your cheeks instantly and you think your heart might have actually skipped a beat but, you can’t help it, you’ve had a crush on Hotch for ages and he’s holding your hand. But you don’t remember a time when Hotch was so forward in showing concern for one of his agents.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, Sweetheart—” you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming because Hotch has never called you Sweetheart. Ever. You’ve also never seen him in anything other than a suit. “—Jessica called because Jack has the flu and then he wanted to talk to me and—”

“Hotch!” Morgan all but yells, interrupting Hotch’s update on Jack, as you stare pointedly at his hand, still holding yours, trying to control the redness growing steadily stronger in your cheeks. What the hell.

“Hotch,” Morgan states, softer this time, “The last thing Y/L/N remembers clearly is Prentiss’ funeral.”

You look up with a weak approximation of a smile, and watch Hotch’s face shift as he comprehends what Morgan said.

“That was years ago,” he says slowly, face hardening into a look you’ve seen too many times when he tries to separate himself from the information he’s received.

Looking down at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, so you divert your eyes to his hand in yours. Once he notices this, he gently lets go and you know it’s silly, but you almost reach out for it again. Who knows the next time Hotch will want to hold your hand?

“So you don’t…” he doesn’t finish his question, which leaves you even more confused. Don’t what…?

“Umm. If it’s happened in the last four-ish years, then umm… Then I probably don’t remember it,” you say quietly, apologetically. “Sir,” you add on quickly, not wanting to forgo formalities even if your memory isn’t what it’s supposed to be.

However, instead of nodding, like you thought he would, Aaron Hotchner looks sad which confuses you even more.

“Aaron,” Rossi begins slowly, “the doctor said that talking about what’s happened since then may help Y/N’s memory come back.” Hotch looks up, almost relieved. “So why don’t you tell her something that’s happened since Prentiss’ funeral.”

And with that, Hotch takes a breath before reaching across your body to your other hand and holding it up. Not quite sure what’s happening, you allow him to hold your left hand up in your line of vision and that’s when you notice a fucking wedding ring. On your hand. Which Hotch is holding.

“I’m married?” you screech, looking at the team, who are now all trying not to laugh for some reason. “Who am I married to? Holy shit, what?” you continue looking around. Morgan and Prentiss look like they’ll break into outright laughter any minute. What’s going on?

Looking helplessly to Hotch, who is suspiciously quiet, you don’t have to repeat your question before he is carefully letting go of your left hand to hold his own up next to it and since when did Hotch wear a wedding band? Until you notice the striking similarities between the ring on your hand, and the one on your boss. What the actual fuck.

“We’re married?” you say, whipping your head to the side—ouch—to stare at Hotch, who is looking a little more amused than worried. “What? When? I just…” you can’t even finish your train of thought because your head is spinning so fast.

“Is it really that much of a surprise, Princess?” Derek chimes in. “I mean, you guys have been in love with each other forever,” and with that, he and Prentiss dissolve into a fit of laughter, which they try to smother, but you’re too busy taking in this very new and very interesting life development.

At some point in the last couple years, you married Hotch. Which means he knows you like him. And he likes you. You dated Hotch and now you’re fucking married. And you can’t remember any of it.

“…I don’t remember it…” you say sadly, softly and the laughter ceases.

Running a hand through his hair, Hotch takes a step back and shrugs, a small, reassuring smile on his face.

“We’ll figure it out, Sweetheart—” your stomach erupts into butterflies, “—we always do.”

With a sigh, you sink back into the pillows on your bed and stare at the ceiling, head throbbing worse than before thanks to all the new information.

“I just…” you pause to think about your current dilemma. “I just don’t know where to start with all this…Getting my memory back,” you look to Hotch and then the team, unsure of what to do.

“Well, the doctor did say that photos and videos might help. I’d be willing to recount every conversation we’ve had since Emily’s funeral, if you want, including the ones that you weren’t a part of, but were about you or a case,” Reid offers with a grin, and your heart melts.

Slowly shaking your head, you answer, “Thanks but maybe later, Spence. I’m still stuck on the whole I’m-married-to-my-boss thing right now.”

“Trust me Princess,” Derek laughs “I’m pretty sure all of us could tell you about how everything went down like a damn movie.”

“Yeah…” JJ continues with a fond shake of her head, “You guys weren’t very subtle about it.”

Sneaking a look out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hotch blushing and staring down at his shoes before he also sneaks a look at you, meeting your eyes.

“See?” Derek’s voice breaks your gaze. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You guys weren’t subtle and still aren’t,” rolling his eyes, he laughs a little and you can’t help but smile.

“At least they’re married this time around,” Rossi supplies. “No more ‘secret’ glances and yearning,” he says with such contempt you can’t help but laugh as Hotch—Aaron? — lets out a small chuckle of his own.

“Now I just need to remember how we got here,” you say, feeling a little more at ease. Slowly, you reach for Hotch’s left hand, studying the ring the matches your own. “Remember us,” you continue, just to him, and the smile that overtakes his face is the best thing you’ve seen since waking up.

“You weren’t wrong, Morgan,” comes Emily’s voice from the end of your bed. “This is just like a movie. Ugh. But don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll help you sort this out.”

“And I know just the woman for the job,” Morgan adds with a mischievous smirk which immediately makes you wonder about whatever it is he has planned.

“Now as much as I’d love to watch the two lovebirds gaze into each other’s eyes, I actually have plans,” Rossi states, looking down at his watch. “So, I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says before waving to the rest of the team and leaving.

The rest of the team makes their own excuses to leave, and you can’t help but feel like Morgan and Prentiss have concocted some sort of scheme to “help” you get your memories back.

Running a hand over your face, you sigh. What now? The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up and realize that Hotch hadn’t left with the others, but was instead standing near the foot of your bed, looking somewhat anxious.

“I ummm… I was planning on spending the night here to make sure you were okay, but umm…” he trails off, unsure.

“But since I have no memory of us being together you think it’s weird…?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” he answers in a sigh. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here, especially because I know how frustrating and confusing this must be for you…”

“Hotch,” you start, but he can’t hide his wince when you call him that. “Aaron,” you try again. “Yes, this is incredibly confusing and frustrating because Emily should be dead and I didn’t think you had feelings for me at all,” you pause and see him smile, just a bit, “But I’d really like it if you stayed here. With me. Because—” you take a deep breath. “—Because you make me feel safe, Aaron, and I need that right now,” you say gently, not quite sure where the confidence came from, but Aaron’s eyes soften and his smile grows bigger as his shoulders drop in relief. Worth it.

“Then I’ll stay,” he says, and you can’t help the heat that once again rises in your cheeks as he continues to look at you.

You guys are married, dammit. Pull it together.

Averting your gaze, you turn your attention to getting more comfortable in your bed and decide to fuss with the placement of your pillows because damn was your back starting to hurt, but Aaron beats you to it. Within ten seconds of arranging the pillows behind you, he has them perfect.

“How…?” you start to question, but he just raises his eyebrows. “Right. Married,” you say with a shake of your head.

Aaron finally sits in the chair next to your bed and reaches, almost absentmindedly, for your hand before catching himself and stilling. You can see the fight in his mind—he wants to comfort you and himself, but with your memory, he doesn’t quite know where your boundaries are. Taking pity on him, you grab his hand yourself, weaving your fingers together so he knows it was on purpose. Okay so you really just wanted to hold his hand again, but you’re married! You’re allowed. He takes a deep breath and leans back in the chair, turning his head to really look at you.

“How’s your head?” he asks, brow furrowed in what you’ve come to understand is genuine concern.

You pause and consider for a moment.

“Not terrible, but not great,” you say slowly. “It’s like there’s a fog in my mind that I can’t see through. I know I’m missing stuff, but I just don’t know what.”

Aaron gently squeezes your hand, but doesn’t speak yet.

“I want to know what brought Emily back, how we happened, what it was that gave me this fucking injury, I just…” with an exasperated huff, you collect yourself. “I just want to know.”

“Well, Emily should be the one to tell you her part of the story, and as for us,” he gives you a smile “it’s a longer answer, at least for me, so that will have to wait—Sorry, Sweetheart,” he says when you pout. “However, I can tell you about what landed you in the hospital. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start,” you tease, and yes Aaron smiles wider and rolls his eyes.

“We were chasing an unsub, and Garcia had tracked him to a warehouse not too far from Quantico. We went there and—” his voice wavers. You squeeze his hand. “—and the unsub had set explosives around the perimeter of the building. I guess you got too close to him when trying to talk him down and he triggered the whole set.” Aaron sighs, and his eyes are glazed over like he’s reliving this—which he probably is—and there’s nothing you can really do besides let him take his time.

“You weren’t right by any of them, but you were thrown back and had hit the ground before I could even yell at you to stop—not that you would have listened,” he says pointedly with a watery laugh. “You just laid there, Morgan and I carried you over to the medics as soon as the dust settled and they took you away as we cleared the rest of the scene.”

“And the unsub?”

“He didn’t survive the explosion. As soon as we figured that out, we left it to the local PD and crime scene techs.” He looks at you softly. “We came straight here after that.”

“How long was I out before today,” you ask lightly, curiously.

“Three days. Dave had to convince me to go home and shower on the second day.” He looks down before sneaking a sideways glance at you.

“Well I’m glad he did,” you tease, scrunching your nose.

“And I’m glad you’re awake, Sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing your hand.

You laugh and look away before mumbling, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Get used to what?” he waits a second. “Sweetheart?” Motherfucker. He knows what he’s doing.

“That! I woke up convinced you didn’t have feelings for me at all,” you say with a glare, “and now I know we’re married and you keep being so nice and understanding and calling me Sweetheart and I just don’t know how to deal with all of this!” you finish in a huff.

“I just feel bad that I can’t remember this, us” you add, gesturing between the two of you. “I’m trying and there’s just—” you make a frustrated noise and flop back to stare at the ceiling. “And my head still kind of hurts,” you add softly, almost pouting.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Aaron whispers. He clears his throat before continuing. “You’ll get your memories back,” he leans forward to stroke some hair off your forehead. “And until then, you know the team and I will do what we can to catch you up and help you remember.”

You push your head further into his hand with a sigh. He runs his hand through your hair a few times before pulling back and you almost whine. You yawn instead. Settling down, you tug the blanket up higher across your chest and turn to face Aaron as he also gets comfortable. He turns on the small television in your room and at some point, you fall asleep holding his hand.

---

You wake to the sound of the door opening, followed by the unmistakable click-clack of heels worn by none other than Penelope Garcia.  

“Rise and shine! Time to regain your memory, lovely Y/N,” she sings, coming to a stop by the side of your bed as you roll over with a yawn.

“Pen—” you groan. “Let me sleep. Please.”

“Oh no, my little profiler. Do you have your memory back?” You shake your head. “Then we need to work on that! And don’t you dare tell me no; my wonderful Derek Morgan and I were up all night making this for you,”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Sadly, not like that. But, we compiled a presentation-slash-video montage for you about what you’ve missed!”

That catches your attention.

“Wha--? How? Penelope where did the footage come from?” you ask, more awake now.

“Well, I may or may not have used security cam footage for a lot of it, but that’s neither here nor there, so, without further ado, I present to you: your life for the past four-ish years!” and with that, she somehow connects her tablet to the TV and you see a picture of the whole team; Penelope then produces a remote from the depths of her purse and then proceeds to the next slide.

Which is a photo of you. And Aaron. Standing by the coffee machine in the office and smiling at each other, clearly unaware that the moment was being documented. The image is embellished with what must be close to fifty moving, sparkly hearts, obviously done by Garcia.

“First thing’s first,” she starts with a flourish. “Your husband!” and as if on cue, Aaron walks into the room, cup of coffee in hand. Much to your surprise, Aaron just rounds your bed to sit in the same chair you assume he fell asleep in, watching the screen.

“What is happening,” you say softly to yourself, looking from Aaron to Garcia and back.

“The doctor said photos and videos might help restore your memory, so who better to put something together than Garcia?” Hotch answers dryly, a small smile flashing across his face. “The rest of the team should be here shortly,” he says directly to Garcia.

“Oh good. I always work better with an audience,” she replies as you continue to process just what the hell is happening since you woke up approximately five minutes ago.

Within a few minutes, your hospital room is overrun with the rest of the team. Sitting, standing, leaning wherever they can find the space to view Penelope’s presentation with you in the middle of it all.

“Don’t you people have jobs?” you grumble.

“C’mon, Princess. Who better to help you remember the last few years than us?” Derek says with a cheeky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

You turn your gaze to Aaron and find that he’s already looking at you in concern.

“If you really don’t want all of us here we can leave,” he says just loud enough for you to hear.

“I just…” you take a moment to try and collect your thoughts. “I guess I just don’t know how to feel about all of this, but you’re all here so— “

“So here we go!” Penelope cheerfully finishes your sentence before turning back to the screen. “As I was saying before, part one of Operation Get Y/N’s Memories Back is all about—drumroll please—our very own Unit Chief, a.k.a. Hotch, a.k.a. loving husband to our very own Agent Y/L/N.”

With a shake of your head, purposefully ignoring the way Derek and Emily are whooping and whistling, you settle in and gesture for Penelope to continue. God, let’s hope this works.

---

It doesn’t work.

Fuck.

Three almost four hours later and nothing has changed for you. However, it’s a lovely opportunity for some team bonding and creating new memories, but you’re still disappointed. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Penelope did a wonderful job of pulling together a presentation-slash-video montage of your life, complete with titles such as ‘Your lovely husband,’ ‘The Miraculous Life, Death, and Subsequent Resurrection of Emily Prentiss,’ and even ‘Badass BAU Babies,’ which was a collection of team photos and news clips of cases you guys had closed in the past few years.

The whole team had gotten a kick out of each section, especially the last one, as Penelope had spared no one in her quest to help your memory; ugly selfies sent in the BAU group chat, embarrassing footage of you tripping up (and down) the stairs to the bullpen—courtesy of the security cameras, Reid doing physics magic and narrowly missing Rossi’s coffee cup, it was all there. But nothing worked, there was no magical ah ha moment where everything came rushing back. If anything, it really was like watching a movie; it didn’t feel like you were the one is all of these clips and photos. Not even Reid’s commentary made you feel any closer than before to recovering your memories.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Penelope had a veritable stockpile of photos of you and Aaron, ranging from the office, to cases, to the occasional night out with the team. Your engagement announcement, wedding photos, freakin’ everything on the two of you and yet, nothing seemed to make a difference to your brain.

The photo on the screen was one of you and Aaron on a case. You were tucked under his arm, snowflakes visible in your hair and his as you look up and laugh at something he said while he just smiles gently down at you. Penelope had put hearts over both your eyes.

“Actual heart eyes! I had to! You guys are so cute!” she basically squealed when the photo came up.

“What did I tell you,” Rossi said teasingly, “Yearning.”

Prentiss and Morgan hadn’t stopped laughing for this entire segment, with JJ and Reid occasionally joining in if there was something exceptionally ridiculous Penelope had included, like fucking heart eyes.

A hand covering your own makes you realize you had spaced out, and you look down to see that it’s Aaron’s hand, wedding band catching the light.

“Anything, Sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, carefully watching your face.

You shake your head. “It’s like it’s someone else’s life, but I know it’s mine; you’ve told me it’s mine, there’s photographic evidence that it’s mine!” you say in a huff. “It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine,” you whisper, voice breaking at the end. Tears gather in your eyes and you bite your lip to stop it from shaking as you desperately try and control your overwhelming emotions. You can hear the team in the background, strategizing new ways to help you, but Aaron’s face hovers in front of your own, drawing your attention.

“It’s okay,” he says lightly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“No, it’s not,” you insist as a few tears make their way down your face. “It’s not, Aaron. What if this is it? What if I just don’t get my memories back?”

Letting out a long sigh, Aaron raises your hand to his lips and kisses your palm before folding your hand into his.

“You will. I know you will,” he says with such conviction you might just believe him if it weren’t for the way he rapidly blinks to keep his own tears at bay.

“Yeah, Princess.” Morgan chimes in from somewhere across the room. “We’ll figure this out, you know we will.”

And with that, you see something click into place in Aaron’s eyes and suddenly, he’s looking at you in such a way that your heart picks up—thanks, heart monitor.

“Aaron…?” you ask cautiously.

“Princess,” he says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You only have time to raise an eyebrow at him before—

Oh.

Kissing Aaron Hotchner is something you could definitely get used to. His hand comes up to cradle your face as he gently moves his lips against yours. You sigh and can feel his smile against your mouth before he’s tugging your face closer, tilting your head just so and—

There.

It’s like opening a window to let in a breeze. Soft and sure, filling the space in a way that’s all-encompassing without being suffocating.

Like snowflakes falling and settling on his black jacket, like Aaron down on one knee sliding your engagement ring on your finger while you smile so much it feels like your face will break. It’s leaving cups of coffee on his desk during late nights in the office. It’s playing soccer with Jack as Aaron smiles and cheers both of you on. It’s being in bed late at night, falling asleep in the comfort provided by the man you love. Your wedding vows, promising to love him forever.

And you know.

With a gasp, you pull Aaron closer, kiss him deeper, harder, moving your lips more frantically against his. I remember I remember I remember and you think he gets it because he pulls back and looks at you with so much hope it almost breaks your heart.

“When I said I’d love you forever, Aaron Hotchner, I meant it.”

And his face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen as he laughs in disbelief before capturing your lips with his again, returning the urgency you had kissed him with just moments ago.

Someone clears their throat and you pull apart, smiles obvious on both your faces as you turn to the team who are looking somewhat confused.

“Would you mind enlightening us as to why you two are suddenly acting like teenagers?” Rossi asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Aaron starts, grinning in your direction, “It would seem that— “

“Nuh uh. No way,” Derek interrupts him. “Are you seriously about to say that you kissed her and she magically remembered?”

You can’t help but laugh at his disbelief because what the hell and nod, unable to speak through the giddiness overtaking your body. You remember.

“Ohmygod! You guys!!” Penelope squeals before launching herself into your arms for a hug which she promptly pulls Aaron into as well; he doesn’t protest.

“What made you do that, Hotch?” Reid asks curiously once Penelope has let you and Aaron go. “Did you know it would work?”

“Princess,” Aaron says with a nod towards Morgan. “In Jack’s storybooks, a kiss always wakes the Princess so she and her prince can live happily ever after.”

Okay that’s adorable and you can’t help but aww with the rest of the team at Aaron’s confession.

“Happily ever after, huh?” you say, tugging on his hand. “Who knew you were such a sap, Hotchner?”

Rolling his eyes, Aaron just smiles. “Wasn’t it obvious from Garcia’s presentation? I’ve been in love with you forever, Sweetheart. And besides, it worked, didn’t it?” he says with a smug smile. 

You pull him down for a short kiss before moving back just enough to murmur “My Prince Charming.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” you turn to see Morgan shaking his head. “A literal fuckin’ fairytale,” and then he’s laughing and the whole team, you and Aaron included, are laughing with him because yeah this is pretty surreal.

“I can’t believe you thought I was a ghost!” Emily says once the laughter has died down, her arms crossed in mock-anger.

“Can you blame me?” you retort. “The last thing I remember was burying you and suddenly you’re here? Nope. No way. Ghost. Only explanation.”

“I have to say, Y/L/N, I’m glad you’re back, if only to stop Aaron’s sad puppy-dog eyes every time you called him ‘Hotch,’” Rossi shakes his head. “I don’t know how much more yearning I could take.”

“Hey! Be nice,” JJ admonishes, swatting Rossi’s shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah guys,” you echo. “Be nice! Don’t think I forgot you two,” you say, leveling Morgan and Prentiss with glares, “and all your laughter when I couldn’t remember that my husband and I were married!”

“Oh c’mon, Princess,” Morgan groans. “It was pretty funny. You were trying so hard not to look completely in love with your husband.”

“In my defense,” you start, “I didn’t know that you guys already knew how much I love Aaron, so excuse me for trying to hide my love,” you say with a sniff.

“Well, it was pretty obvious. Whenever you looked at him or he grabbed your hand, the heart monitor would register an increase in your heart rate by—” Reid starts to ramble but your laughter cuts him off.

“I get it, I get it,” you continue through your laughter. “I’m very in love with Aaron, even when I think it’s a secret, but as Penelope’s presentation so eloquently demonstrated, I’m not subtle and neither is he.”

Aaron leans over to kiss your cheek as the rest of the team continues into a conversation about Penelope’s presentation and how the hell she collected all those photos and videos in one day.

With the attention no longer on you—for now—you smile at Aaron, who smiles right back. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh, and you can’t help but pull him back closer to you.

“I love you,” you say kissing the back of his hand.

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he replies softly.

Yeah, this is happily ever after.

[outoftheblue-if]

✨ Another Random Update  ✨

It’s almost the end of the year. Again. How wild is that? 👀

✨ I just wanted to update you guys and be completely honest with you. Writing Chapter 2 is just... not going well at all, and sometimes I almost feel tempted to quit this project all together because I’m so frustrated — with myself, with my plans, with everything. The demo still stands at around 30 000 words and I haven’t been able to write much lately. But I’m not quitting, because I want to tell this story and I love the characters too much to give up now. Maybe I just need to change my approach and routines.

I’m typically the type of person who, when feeling overwhelmed with things to do, procrastinates and ends up doing nothing. Then feeling terrible for it lol. It’s a cursed trait, I know. So I’m going to take some time to really get organised and get all my shit stuff together. When I started this journey I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I’ve learned so much since then, about Twine, about interactive fiction, about writing and planning, so I feel like I just need to reboot with all this newfound knowledge. Plan things out a little more and narrow this overwhelming sense of chaos down to manageable steps.

✨ I think I’m also going to change this blog from vahnyawrites to outoftheblue-if because it makes a lot more sense and makes it easier to find. I went for vahnyawrites because I thought I might start other WIPs, but if I ever do, I’d much rather create an entirely new blog for that to keep things tidy. So just a little heads-up about that.

✨ I’m also going to go through all the posts and change/add tags to make things more organised on here + create a post with all the tags to make it easier to find stuff, and avoid stuff — for those that want to. 

✨ I also desperately need to change/update the pinned game post, and all the RO posts. 

I think a little bit of a revamp of all things is in order, so here’s hoping that helps! 🤞🏻

Once again, sorry for the lack of progress with the actual story — I promise no one is more disappointed than myself, and thank you all for your patience and support 💋 I wish you all a beautiful month of Christmas. Yule, Winter Solstice, or December in general — whatever you celebrate — I hope it’s swell ✨🤎

xo — Vahnya

[peterpparkerwrites]

revelations - part three

a/n: currently on hiatus - look at my pinned post for more info! this fic has a lot of parts so I’ll have it scheduled to post twice a day - once at 11:00 AM PST and once at 5:00 PM PST. since I will be gone and can’t update links, if you want to find previous parts, just scroll down my page :) warnings: a little angsty, language, the usual pairing: peter parker x reader word count: 2.7k summary: peter hates the idea of soulmates. he certainly can't afford to be with his soulmate when they do show up, not when there's a chance he won't come home one day from being spider-man. he can't do that to them, he can't lose someone he loves and he can't have them lose him - he saw what it did to his aunt may when his uncle died. but meeting your soulmate is inevitable, and it's not always so easy to avoid what the universe wants to happen.

masterlist ~ requests are closed ~ part two / part four

taglist: @lilbeatlebear @somefuckshit1 @hufflepuffseeker

~

"Stop grinning," Spider-Man grumbled, causing Shadow's smile to widen.

"How do you know I'm grinning? I'm wearing a mask."

"I can just tell," his mask's eyes narrowed at her, making her bite her lip to not laugh.

"I'm sorry," she finally let out a chuckle, "But that was the funniest thing I've ever seen."

"It was so not funny," he complained, throwing his arms up, "If it happened to you, you would not be laughing right now."

She burst into laughter, not able to keep it in now, while he just shook his head and crossed his arms. She didn't have to see his face to know he was pouting.

"Hey, don't be like that," she said between laughs, "It's not my fault you got owned by an eight year old!"

"That's not what happened!" He protested while she kept giggling, her hands on her stomach, "He ran over my foot with his scooter, that's it!"

"Yeah, but then he told you 'watch where you're going, bug boy'!"

He threw up his hands again while she caught her breath, still holding her stomach. "You can't deny that an eight year old schooled you for not watching where you were walking. Isn't it your job to keep people safe, Spidey? And here you are being reckless and not looking both ways before walking. We have to count of the youth to protect our sidewalks, now."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off, not able to keep the grin off his own face.

They fell into a silence for a minute, sitting on the ledge that had become their meeting spot for the last several weeks. Fighting together was now second nature to them both, and it was something they each looked forward to throughout the day.

Peter hadn't felt this comfortable around anyone. Of course, he wasn't necessarily uncomfortable around his friends or aunt, but he never presented this hero side of himself to anyone but Ned and May, who barely scratched the surface. He could completely be himself around Shadow, just minus the fact that she had no idea who he actually was. They hadn't shared much personal information with each other, and Peter had only let slip a few things that wouldn't give away his identity. She had been pretty strict on not saying anything about herself - he only guessed they were the same age when she mentioned homework once.

"Why do you wear a mask?" Her question startled him out of his thoughts. "Like, Captain America and Iron Man and all of them don't wear masks, or they at least don't hide their identity. So why do you?"

"Well, Iron Man is rich, and can afford to have every one know who he is," Peter chuckled, "And I'm pretty sure Captain America can protect himself. But I don't know, I think for one I don't want bad guys to know who I am because they can hurt people close to me but...also because I think I feel better behind a mask, ya know? Different, I guess."

"I feel different behind the mask, too" she agreed, "Not necessarily more confident, but definitely more me than I am without."

"Me too," he replied honestly, "If I told anyone I was Spider-Man, they'd never believe me. We're like...two entirely different people."

She laughed, "Yeah. Me too."

"You never talk about yourself," he commented.

"Neither do you," she countered, shooting him a look even though he couldn't see her face. "What's your point?"

"Well, shouldn't we know a bit about each other by now?" He asked curiously, his mask's eyes squinting a bit. "We do trust each other, right?"

"Of course," Shadow said quickly, "But we've both got identities to protect. I just...I don't want to give anything away that might be too much information, ya know?"

"I get that," he replied, "But like...what about little things?"

"Like?" She prompted.

"What's your favorite color?"

She laughed, "Really? That's the question you're gonna ask?"

"Well, would you rather me ask what your real name is?"

"Ha! Well, if you really must know. It's F/C."

He smiled a bit at that. "Mine's red."

"No shit," she gestured to his suit, making him roll his eyes. "Okay, my turn. Who's your favorite avenger?"

"Iron Man," he said instantly, making her burst into laughter.

"God, that was a quick answer," she snickered, "My friend loves Iron Man too. Mine has to be Black Widow. It's gotta suck being one of the only women in a group of men."

He laughed, "Yeah, probably."

The good mood was ruined when Peter noticed something on the horizon, his eyes squinting. Shadow followed his gaze, seeing what he had seen - a plume of dark smoke against the skyline.

"Shit, that looks like a bad fire," she muttered, looking at him, "I haven't heard any sirens. We should go."

He nodded, and soon enough he was swinging them to the building as quick as possible.

The scene was much worse up close. They both noticed someone on the phone in front of the building, likely calling the fire department. Flames were going up the side, luckily the building was a standalone so it wasn't spreading. But the wood caught easily and the whole place was probably aflame, inside too.

"You should stay out here," Spider-Man went to go inside, but Shadow grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Are you crazy? If you're going in, so am I," she said stiffly.

"Fine, just-just be careful," he stated, "Your suit doesn't look fireproof."

"Neither does yours, bug boy," she rolled her eyes, following him into the building.

Shadow had never been this close to flames before, and she never wanted to be again. The duo went opposite ways once getting inside, hoping to find any people (if there were any) and get them out as soon as possible.

"Anyone there?" She shouted into one of the rooms, one that wasn't as hot as the other side of the building, where Spider-Man ran to.

"Yes!" She perked up when she heard a woman's voice call out, and immediately headed for it, avoiding flaming wood that fell from the ceiling in certain spots.

"I'm here," Shadow breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a woman near the open window, holding her arm up to her face to cover from the smoke.

"Let's get you out of here," Shadow reached a hand out so she could help her walk over the weakening floorboards, "We have to get out now before the fire gets worse."

"My husband is still here," the woman held onto the wall a bit, "I can't leave without him."

"He's probably outside," Shadow said calmly, though she really couldn't be sure. "People have been coming out of the building. You need to come with me now, before this place burns down."

The woman hesitated but took her hand, letting her lead her out of the building. No cops or firemen had arrived yet so she had the woman sit on a bench, breathing in the fresh air.

"He's not out here," the woman said after frantically looking around, "He's still in there!"

"I'm sure he'll be out soon-"

"Please, he's-he's my soulmate, I need to get to him," the woman begged and tried to get up, but Shadow held her arm, not letting her budge.

"Ma'am, if you get closer, you might get hurt," she tried to reason with her, almost horrified by the desperate look on the woman's face. She had never seen someone so set on running into flames for someone else.

"Please, let me go," she tried to break her grip again, but Shadow was too strong.

"Spider-Man will get him," she said, hoping her voice didn't shake with doubt. They had been in there a while. "I'm sure they'll both be out any second."

"I can't lose him," the woman said tearfully, "I can't-"

She was interrupted when Spider-Man finally came through the door, holding a man around the waist, the man's arm slung over his shoulder as he coughed. The woman broke away to run to them and Shadow immediately felt relieved, not realizing how panicked she was at the thought that her partner wouldn't come out.

Firemen had showed up by then and were taking care of the situation while Spider-Man helped the woman's soulmate into an ambulance gurney waiting outside the burning building. She was sobbing over him while he held her hand weakly, not able to speak much when they put an oxygen mask over his mouth.

The whole scene put a lump in Shadow's throat as she watched him get wheeled in the ambulance, the woman not letting go of her soulmate's hand for even a second as she climbed in with him.

"Hey," Spider-Man's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked at his slightly charred suit. Without thinking she pulled him into a tight hug, forgetting momentarily how strong she was.

"Can't breathe," he choked a bit, making her step back immediately.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I-I was so worried you weren't gonna come out. You can't scare me like that."

"He was stuck under a fallen beam," he replied, ignoring the skip in his heartbeat at her worry for him. "It took longer than planned. But...we got him."

"You got him," she corrected, "You did amazing."

He smiled a bit at the praise, still slightly out of breath. "Thanks. Let's get out of here, before it gets too crowded."

"Good idea," she replied, checking how he was holding an arm around his stomach, "You're okay to swing us out of here?"

He scoffed, "Don't doubt me."

"Just checking," she smiled a little before frowning, the woman's distraught face still haunting her thoughts, "Let's leave before I go crazy still being here."

Moments later they were on their usual rooftop, taking a much needed break after the fire.

It was quiet between the both of them after they witnessed that. Shadow felt a pain in her chest at the look on the woman's face as her soulmate was stuck in a burning building. She felt horrible for being late to the scene, knowing Spider-Man felt the same.

"That sucked," she said flatly, glancing up to see him nod. "I feel so bad for them. I can't imagine what it's like to see your soulmate like that..."

"You-you haven't met your soulmate?" He asked curiously, wondering if he was crossing a line. She never talked much about herself, and he knew she kept her identity a secret for a reason, but it would be nice to know more about her.

She bit her lip, hesitating. "No, I haven't. I've been waiting to meet mine forever, but that...I would never want to go through what she just went through."

Peter nodded, "Yeah. Me neither."

"So you haven't met yours yet either, I take it," she mumbled, kicking a rock from the ledge. "Lucky us."

He chuckled lightly, "Nope. And I'm fine with that."

"You don't want to meet them?" She asked, frowning a bit.

"Not really," he admitted, and she waited for him to continue, but he ended it there. She felt a little sad to hear that, feeling bad for whoever his soulmate was. If he never wanted to meet them, well...it would suck to be them.

"Let's go see if there's a cat to save out of a tree, yeah?" Shadow changed the subject.

Peter smiled a bit, "Sounds like a plan."

-

"I freaking hate this class," you groaned dramatically, dropping your head on your friend's shoulder. He tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest at you resting your head on him by laughing at you.

"If you hate chemistry so much, why did you go to a school designed for science?" Peter teased, making you roll your eyes and glare at him as you sat up.

"My parents are scientists, dummy," you tapped him on the head with you pencil, not noticing him frown at that statement like something just occurred to him. "They pushed for this school. Now stop being annoying and help me with this problem."

Whatever he thought of went away as he focused on the problem, muttering, "You only use me for my brain, I swear."

"Maybe so," you joked, "I don't get what it says here..."

The both of you went back to studying like you had been for the past hour, your brain starting to hurt after a few more hours. After a break for dinner with May and a bit more studying after she left for a late shift at work, you finally called it quits.

"If I don't know it by now, I won't know it for the test," you sighed, packing your textbook and notes into your bag.

"I'll walk you home, it's pretty late," Peter smiled at you, the same smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

"Thanks, Pete," you grabbed your bag and swung it over your shoulder, "And thanks for taking a break from the internship to help me with this."

"Of course, Y/N, anything for you," he said the sentence so easily, but those last three words really put butterflies in your stomach. He probably thought nothing of them but they made you more confident in your decision.

You were finally gonna tell him how you felt.

What Ned had said during lunch the other day sat with you for a while. You couldn't help but think maybe Peter did have some feelings for you - before Liz was in the picture you remembered how nervous he used to get talking to you, and while that part changed, you did know he was still sweet and funny and was always there for you even despite the internship. It was probably past time to tell him.

You tried to work up the nerve on the walk back to your place, Peter always bringing up a different subject before you could get the guts to spit it out. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice how tense you were.

"So..." you trailed off once it became silent, chickening out at the last second. "What're your plans for the rest of the weekend?"

"Well," he sighed, shrugging, "Internship a bit. I know May's been dying to see a chick flick that's out, so might go see that with her."

"Sounds fun," you mumbled, biting your lip as you repeatedly called yourself a coward in your head. You knew if you didn't do it now with all your pent up emotions, you never would.

Finally you reached the stop before your apartment, where you always parted after school.

"Well, I'll see you Monday," he grinned and went to head back, but you stopped him. Now or never.

"Hey, Peter?" You grabbed his wrist, your heart racing. You weren't going to chicken out this time. You weren't going to make some stupid excuse in your head.

"Uh, yeah?" He asked carefully, hearing your heart rate increase with his heightened senses. He was confused for why you seemed so nervous, when a second ago you were fine.

"I-I need to, to tell you," you bit your lip, trying to make eye contact with him and not falter. "I have feelings for you."

His eyebrows raised in shock, "You-what?"

You let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, I...I've liked you for a while, in a more-than-a-friend-way. I just thought...you should know."

He felt his heart drop a bit, knowing that if you had said this last year, he would have been ecstatic. He still was - knowing you liked him made him so incredibly happy but terrified at the same time. You feeling the same wasn't something he had considered a possibility.

Things were complicated – not only did he reject any idea of being with anyone like that, soulmate or not, but now he had weird feelings he couldn't place for a certain vigilante, and while he still knew he liked you...he couldn't figure out how to respond.

"You don't have to say anything," you said after a minute, letting go of his sleeve, and stepping back a bit. His heart ached at the distance you put between the both of you, and how your eyes weren't meeting his. "I-I just needed to tell you."

"Y/N..." his voice trailed off and you nodded, trying to force a smile.

"I'll see you around," you said quickly, turning and heading home. He didn't call after you, or follow you, not that you'd expected him to.

The look on his face told you enough.

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | five

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: tw for death, death of a parent, reference to drug addiction

word count: 4.5k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies thank you for your patience, i know it’s been many many months since i’ve updated! the last time i posted for kib was all the way back in may, which is crazy, i know. but life has been weird and it’s been difficult for me to find the motivation to write. it’s slowly coming back for me and i’m so glad you guys have stuck around with me even if i haven’t been consistent. i’m more grateful than you know!

✩ index here ✩

“She did what?” Dahyun asked, her bite of gimbap nearly falling right out of her mouth. 

Youngjae threw his head back and broke into laughter entirely at Mark’s expense. 

Mark ran his tongue over his teeth and refused to look up at his friends, focusing awfully hard on the sketch he’d been working on in between appointments. He quickly realized that they had absolutely no sympathy for him. 

“Yeah.” 

It had been two weeks already since that night, and Mark was just now feeling comfortable enough to spill what had happened after he took you home. He liked to take his own time to process his thoughts before he revealed them to others, and quite frankly, he hadn’t even wanted to tell anyone. But he was starting to think maybe he needed an outside perspective. 

“She has guts,” Youngjae said, after finally pulling himself upright in his chair. “Was it good?” 

“Dude,” Mark warned, far from amused. 

Dahyun cut in. “It’s a good enough question. From what I’ve seen, you guys have some intense sexual tension. If the kiss was hot, maybe it’s worth exploring.” 

“We don’t have sexual tension,” Mark defended. 

Youngjae snorted. 

“Sure. But, let’s say if you did, and the kiss was good…” Dahyun trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Groaning, Mark tapped the end of his pencil against the desk. He glanced up at the wall, his eyes naturally drawn to the photo of your shoulder, of the tattoo he’d designed and permanently inked onto your skin. It wasn’t the only photo he had pinned up of his previous work, but it was the one he looked at the most. 

“She’s a kid,” he said, little to no conviction in his voice. 

But you weren’t a kid. Mark knew in every way, you were an adult. Even mentally, emotionally, you seemed more mature than he felt most days. Packing up your belongings because you refused to live a life you weren’t satisfied with? He couldn’t imagine anything more grown up than that.

“Mark,” Youngjae’s tone was firm, serious this time. “It’s not the worst thing in the world if you have chemistry with someone. I know it may not be the most convenient girl for you, but… you’ve been by yourself for a long time. You can’t tell me you aren’t lonely.” 

He hadn’t thought he was lonely until you came into his life. He had been fine, so fine, living on his own. Waking up alone, eating dinner alone, focusing on his work and living one day to the next. 

But now, he looked forward to the sound of your keys in the door when you got home from your evening shift. He bought your favorite brand of orange juice instead of his. He didn’t mind watching outlandish and obviously fake reality shows if it meant that he got to hear your commentary along with it. More than anything, he’d gotten used to the way you made him feel. In the simplest of terms, he was happy. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “I already fucked it up.”

Dahyun narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?” 

He rubbed some of the tension out of his forehead, relaying the conversation he’d had with Taehyung that night to his friends. The exchange wasn’t longer than a few minutes, but it was long enough for Mark to potentially ruin everything you’d built for yourself in the last couple of months. 

“I didn’t tell him everything - I couldn’t do that. But I told him I’d seen her in the city, that I thought maybe she worked in one of the restaurants near the shop…” A knot of guilt coiled in his stomach. “Fuck.” 

He’d just wanted to do the right thing. You were young, you couldn’t see that your parents cared about you. Taehyung cared about you. They deserved to know where you were, especially after everything they had done for him. He could at least point them in the right direction. 

“Well, shit,” Youngjae offered, a sympathetic frown on his face. 

“I fucked her over, and I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since. We’ve just avoided each other for the last two weeks and I-” Mark heaved a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I hate it.” 

He missed you. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

“I have an idea,” Dahyun said, her whole body perking up. “Don’t look at me like that, sometimes I have good ideas. Why don’t you invite her along for Yugyeom’s camping trip?”

“You mean the couple thing?” 

Dahyun sighed. “It’s not a couple thing. It’s just… everyone there is part of a couple. Anyway, it might be a good way to make things less awkward.” 

Mark blinked a few times, waiting for Dahyun to say ‘just kidding’ because it was an absolutely ridiculous idea. “What? How would that make things any less awkward?” 

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a great opportunity to break the tension. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mark scowled. 

You spent your entire shift thinking about Mark. Thinking about how you had completely messed up your relationship, and trying to figure out how to fix it all. It had been a stupid, drunken mistake, and you would take it back in a heartbeat if you could. 

The past two weeks had been torture, tiptoeing around and trying your hardest to avoid him. You’d picked up extra shifts almost every day, figuring that if you were working, at least you didn’t have to pretend like everything was normal. 

All you wanted was to come home, curl up on the couch with Milo and watch your favorite ridiculous TV shows while Mark snickered next to you, entertained by the disgustingly wealthy families on the screen no matter how much he pretended to hate it. You wanted to be able to lean into him, feel the body heat radiating off of him when his shoulder brushed yours. 

You missed Mark. Even if you couldn’t say it out loud. 

After much debating, you decided that the best way to apologize started with food. And you owed him, anyway, after he opened his home to you and let you stay there free of charge. A dinner was the least you could do. 

You could tell once you walked into Paradise Tattoo just before closing time that Mark hadn’t been expecting you in the slightest. He was at the desk, going over papers with Dahyun, when the bell dinged to signal your entrance. 

In his ripped jeans and muscle tee, all of his tattoos were on display for you, even the large quote he had inked onto his ribcage. You gulped and shoved your feelings down. That would only make things worse. 

“Hi,” you said, greeting both Mark and Dahyun. 

“Hey.” Mark scratched his head and straightened his posture. “What are you doing here?” 

“Well,” you started, wringing your hands in front of you. “I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner? On me. I owe you, anyway.” 

Dahyun piped up, a mischievous smirk on her lips, “That’s a great idea. Mark was just talking about how hungry he was.

Mark cleared his throat and shot his co-worker what looked suspiciously like a glare. “No, I’m fine. You really don’t have to-” 

“Come on,” you said, hiding a smile. “How about burgers? There’s a good place around the corner. It won’t kill you to let me pay, will it?” 

You could see Mark weigh his options as he chewed his lip. Either end up hungry, settling for some quick frozen food later on, or bite the bullet and let you pay for his dinner. You knew it would hurt his pride to do so, but you wouldn’t back down. It was more than just the free room and board that you wanted to make up for. 

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let me grab my stuff.” 

It only took less than ten minutes for you to walk down to the burger place, but it felt like an hour as awkward silence hung around the two of you. It wasn’t until you were both seated at a corner booth inside the restaurant that you finally spoke up. 

“Listen, Mark,” you said, looking up from the packet of ketchup you’d been nervously squishing between your fingers. “About that night…” 

“No, you don’t-” Mark was quick to interrupt, but you held your hand up. 

“Just let me, okay?” You sighed. 

You’d rehearsed these words countless times in the bathroom mirror, and right now it felt like they were slipping right out of your fingers. Where were you supposed to start? With the kiss, straight away? Or getting so drunk that you’d needed to be taken care of in the first place?

“I’m just… really sorry. I was stupid to drink that much and it’s not your job to watch after me. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Mark stopped you again. “I didn’t mind taking care of you.” 

“But it’s not your job, Mark. I’m an adult, and you’re letting me stay with you and asking for nothing in return. The least I could do is make it easy on you.”

“Y/N, if you could have seen me at your age, you wouldn’t feel so bad. We all get drunk and stupid sometimes,” Mark said with a shrug. It almost relieved some of your guilt until you remembered the kiss in the bathroom. 

“Well...” You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for this one. “I really shouldn’t have ki-” 

“Hi! My name’s Lana, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you two something to drink while you look over the menus?”

A cheerful brunette appeared in front of you, a pen behind her ear and a wide grin plastered on her face. You glanced at Mark, then up at your waitress, not sure if you were grateful for the interruption or not. 

“Um, can I just have a water?” you asked, voice small and uncomfortable in your throat. 

“Same for me,” Mark agreed. 

“Perfect! Let me know if you have any questions about the menu!” 

You let out a long breath before you were able to look at Mark again. He was biting his cheek, his lips all twisted and holding back a laugh. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Her timing,” Mark got out, just as he let go of his laughter, throwing his head back. 

To your own surprise, you found yourself shaking with laughter as well. Either from Mark’s contagious laugh giggle or the simple ridiculousness of the situation. Here you were, in a burger restaurant, apologizing to your older brother’s best friend for kissing him while you were heavily intoxicated.

You covered your face with your hands to suppress your own laughter, letting your back slump against the cushions of the booth. It all came to you then, just how silly you’d been the last two weeks. 

“I am sorry, though,” you said, after you both settled down. 

Mark’s eyes glinted as he watched you from across the table, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “It’s alright. I mean it. Last time I was that drunk, I’m pretty sure I ran around the block in my underwear singing the Canadian national anthem.”

You giggled again at the mental image. “What? How did you even-”

“No idea. It’s like I was possessed by a drunk Canadian mischief demon.” 

It was strange to imagine Mark and Taehyung in their teen years, since you’d been so young at the time, you could barely remember anything from that time of your life. You remembered Taehyung wearing the same pair of purple skinny jeans for three months because a girl at school had told him she liked them. 

You remembered Taehyung letting you sit in the basement in your favorite cushioned chair while he and Mark played video games on the big screen. It had been your favorite place to read then, tuning out the rambunctious cries of defeat while you got lost in other worlds. 

“So we’re okay, then?” you asked, after Lana had come back to take your order and left once more. 

Mark nodded, a genuine smile on his lips. “We’re okay.” 

“Maybe it’s weird, but…” you began, staring down at the wrapped silverware on the table instead of looking Mark in the eye. “Even though I grew up seeing you as Taehyung’s friend, that feels like a lifetime ago. And now I just kind of see you as… my friend. Like somebody I can trust.” 

When you finally looked up at Mark, his expression was unreadable. His bottom lip was between his teeth, but his eyes looked somewhat uncomfortable. You worried for a second that you’d crossed a line. 

“I owe a lot to your family,” Mark said after another long moment passed. 

Even though you didn’t remember much about Mark from your childhood years, you knew his upbringing had been rough. His parents had been addicts, the kind that never should’ve been together, let alone bring a child into the world. 

You’d never met his mom, but your own mother had made enough snide comments about her after Mark had gone home for you to understand just what kind of person she was. 

“One of those low life, worthless drug addicts. Sleeping around with anyone that can help her out, if you know what I mean. Never should’ve been a mother.”

She had a funny way of showing her compassion sometimes. 

Taehyung brought him over once after school and your mother had gotten one look at his threadbare clothes and hollow cheeks and taken him in as her new project. At first, he ate dinner with your family almost every night, and then she started making Taehyung pass over his any extra clothes he’d gotten that didn’t fit properly or that he simply didn’t like.

Mark did owe a lot to your family. 

You didn’t know what to say. You’d been so young there was no way you could take credit for anything your parents had done for Mark, but still, you itched to comfort him. Even now, with the unsaid words lingering in the air, you sensed that he had never been able to fully open up to anybody. Though you didn’t deserve it, you wanted to be the first. 

“Your mom,” you found yourself saying. “Is she…?” 

Mark shook his head. “She’s gone. Passed away a couple years ago.” 

Your face fell. If anything, you had expected her to have taken off for good or maybe gotten into some trouble she couldn’t get herself out of, but you hadn’t expected her to be gone. 

“Oh, god, Mark. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

To your surprise, he only lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time before that. Maybe two, three years. Then my aunt showed up on my doorstep with a box of her things and told me she OD’d in a gas station parking lot a week before.” 

His voice wavered only slightly, but enough to tell you he cared more than he let on. You could only imagine how painful it would be to hear of your own mother’s passing a week after the fact. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again. 

Mark shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s weird,” he said, tongue running over his lower lip as he paused. “I’d stopped seeing her as my mother so long ago that… I felt like I’d already mourned her death. Fuck, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you answered as you reached across the table, fingers laying across the back of Mark’s hand. “It doesn’t. At all.”

A moment passed between the two of you. You caught Mark’s eyes glancing down at your hand resting on his skin, but he made no move to avoid your touch. 

“I never even went through her things. The box is just sitting at the back of my bedroom closet collecting dust.” 

“Do you want to go through her things?” you asked. 

Mark paused, chewing at the inside of his lip before he answered. “I don’t know.”

You nodded, somehow understanding exactly what he meant. Though you hadn’t gone through the same thing, you were familiar with avoiding a potentially painful and uncomfortable situation by simply pretending it didn’t exist. Hence why you had four unopened voicemails from your brother and parents. 

You found yourself stroking the back of Mark’s hand with your thumb. It didn’t feel wrong to touch him like this, even though maybe it should have. All you wanted was to bring him a shred of the comfort he had deserved to have for much longer than you’d known him. 

“Alrighty, and here we’ve got the bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries for the lady,” Lana exclaimed, immediately bursting your bubble as she returned to your table with your food balanced on a tray. You were quick to snatch your hand from Mark’s. “And a BBQ cheddar burger with curly fries for the handsome man.”

You didn’t miss the way Lana winked as she placed Mark’s food in front of him. This girl was not getting a generous tip from you, that was for sure. 

“I told you, after that depressing dinner conversation, we need to do something fun,” you told Mark as you carried your skincare basket out from the bathroom into the living room.

“And this is fun for who?” 

You threw him a playful glance and plopped down onto the floor in front of the couch on your knees, setting your basket on the cushion and sifting through it. 

“Both of us. Just trust me.” 

Catching the skeptic look on Mark’s face, you could only grin to yourself as you pulled out a tube of your favorite clay mask. He didn’t know just how relaxing a good face mask could be, but you were willing to show him. 

“I’ll even go first,” you told him. 

Mark lifted his feet to prop them up on the coffee table as Milo curled up like a tiny ball of cotton on his lap. You’d both changed out of your work clothes into comfy clothes, and you couldn’t help noticing how warm Mark looked in his white joggers and oversized black hoodie. You wouldn’t mind snuggling up into that space between his side and the couch cushion… 

You sighed and shook your head, attempting to clear the less-than-platonic thoughts from your mind. If you were going to make this friendship work, you would need to stop thinking about him like that. Immediately.

“Can I ask you something?” Mark said after a beat of silence as you popped open the cap to your mask. 

“Hm?” you asked, propping your personal sized makeup mirror on the couch so that you could see yourself while you applied your mask. 

“Yugyeom’s family has a yearly pass to this campground, and every year he does this weekend camping trip…” he trailed off for a moment and you forced yourself not to react, instead focusing on applying your charcoal mask to your cheeks. “This year, it somehow ended up as a couple thing, so Dahyun suggested I invited a friend along. So…” 

Lifting your eyes from your own reflection, you watched as Mark struggled to finish his thought. 

“So…” you said, helping him along. “Are you asking me to come with you?” 

Immediately, a neon flashing red alarm screeched in your mind. ‘This is a terrible idea! You must say no!’ it screamed.

“Only if you want to. I mean, it’s a cool place. Their lot is right by this swimming hole and there’s a fire pit, so we normally bring a ton of booze and cook our own food over the fire…” 

Mark ran his fingers through his deep red locks of hair, his nerves displayed clearly on his face. You weren’t sure why he was so nervous to ask you, but it came off as incredibly endearing. Despite the warnings blaring in your mind, you found yourself nodding. 

“Okay.” 

Mark looked at you then, his eyes finally locking on yours, and the corner of his lips lifted in a hopeful smile. “Really?”

You couldn’t help grinning as well. “Yeah. I mean, on one condition…”

“Oh?” 

“Mhm,” you replied, holding up the mask tube and popping the cap back open. “You let me put this mask on you.”

“Aish,” Mark said and shook his head. “No way. Not worth it.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby!” 

You stood from the floor and climbed onto the couch, crawling to his side and squeezing some of the mask onto your index and middle fingers. “It’s not that bad!”

“Get away from me!” Mark exclaimed with a laugh, dodging your fingers. Milo hopped up onto the arm of the couch, stomping his cute little paws a few times. 

“Just let me pamper you, Mark!” 

He let out another laugh, louder this time, trying to reach for the mask to steal from your grasp, but he wasn’t fast enough. You giggled, ducking to miss his hands as he grabbed for your wrists. 

Somehow, you found yourself straddling him, thighs resting on either side of Mark’s waist. 

“Real men wear face masks!” you exclaimed with a shout of victory as you finally managed to smear a good amount of the clay mask across Mark’s left cheek. 

“Oh, you little-” he replied, hands reaching for your sides underneath the long sleeved shirt you were wearing. He tickled your sides, a joyful laugh falling from his lips when you started squealing. 

Milo yapped a few times from the arm of the chair, presumably because he thought that you were hurting Mark or vice versa, but his protective barks only made you laugh harder. 

“Mark! Stop it!” 

You gasped for breath, wriggling on top of him and dropping the mask tube, fighting between giggling and trying to swat his hands away. 

“It’s what you deserve, you sneak,” he said, his hands still squeezing and tickling your sides, unknowingly drifting further up your shirt to your ribs. 

Twisting and turning, you finally managed to grab his wrists and yanked them from under your shirt. You held them firmly in between your bodies, even though he could have easily overpowered you. 

Your chest heaved up and down with the last of your giggles. Mark stared up at you, still smiling and out of breath. The air suddenly became thick as you held eye contact, your hands falling from his wrists to his chest. 

“Y/N,” Mark whispered. 

‘Danger! Danger!’ your mind yelled. 

Mark’s hands, now free from your hold, landed on your hips. You felt his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your stomach. Your heart pounded beneath your rib cage at his gentle touch. 

“Mark,” you said, intending on telling him to stop, but it quickly died in your throat. 

His chin tipped up, making you realize just how close you were to him now. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, but only a few mere inches separated your lips from his now. If you only bent forward a bit, you could… 

It reminded you, all of the sudden, of the kiss in the bathroom. It had been quick, but long enough for you to slide your tongue past his lips. You remembered the shock to your system the moment you had felt the cold metal of a tongue piercing. 

“Y/N,” Mark said again. “Tell me to stop.”

His voice was quiet but you felt like you could read between the lines. He didn’t want to stop, and the only way he was going to stop was if you made it clear that you didn’t want this. 

But you did. You’d wanted it from the moment he ran his fingers over the tattoo he’d inked onto your skin one of those first nights, a soft ghost of a touch that made goosebumps form on every inch of your skin. 

You weren’t stupid, you knew that this was all wrong for a variety of reasons, the least of which being that he was your roommate. But that meant nothing to you compared to the way his hands felt on your skin.

Before you could open your mouth, tell him that you didn’t want him to stop, an 8-bit version of the Mario Kart theme blasted from somewhere behind you. You jumped, your heart skipping several beats from the surprise. 

Mark took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, blinking a few times before he gently guided your hips to climb off of him. “Sorry, I should…”

The ringtone felt familiar but you couldn’t figure out why. Even as you watched Mark grab for his phone off the coffee table and immediately silence it, you wracked your brain to try and remember where you had heard that ringtone before. 

It was as if Taehyung had known, the moment that Mark quieted the little voice in his head telling him not to be so close to you and that this was wrong in so many ways, and finally accepted his feelings for you.  

Maybe he had a sixth sense. 

The moment that had passed between you then had been effectively ruined as soon as he was reminded of two things: you were his childhood best friend’s little sister, and he had already ruined your life even if you didn’t know it yet. 

But he’d been so close to giving in. You’d been on top of him, smiling in that innocently beautiful way that you did, your thighs caging in his hips. He hadn’t missed the fact that he could feel you with every inch of him, considering how he’d begged his body not to react, not to harden beneath you. Between the thin layers of his sweats and your sleep shorts, there was no way you wouldn’t notice. 

Later, after you’d grabbed a washcloth so you could both wipe the face mask off your faces and awkwardly watch TV for an hour before enough time could pass for you to realistically head off to bed, Mark listened to the voicemail Taehyung had left. 

“Hey man. I just wanted to let you know that uh, I’m going to try and head to the city and look for Y/N in a few weeks. If you see her again or have any idea where she might be, let me know. I really appreciate it, my mom’s been going crazy… anyway, maybe we can grab a drink or something once I’m in town. I’ll hit you up. Thanks again, Mark.”

Mark was glad he was in the privacy of his own bedroom when he listened to the message so you didn’t see the way he threw his phone down on the bed, muttering curse words to himself and trying to forget how heavenly you had felt on top of him. 

It was impossible. All he could think about was your skin under his fingertips, how your lips had been so soft and smooth and close to his, and how the weight of you on top of him had been enough to make him hard. 

His only option was to shut himself in the bathroom and crank the shower all the way to the coldest temperature that he could stand and pray that it would be enough to keep him from sneaking into your bedroom that night. 

[beevean]

SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik​]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Part Fourteen

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Cursing; angst... And well.... Y’all will see Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. I hope everyone’s having a good week! 💜 Summary: You’d spent the last few days checking all of the cameras we had available for Hernandez, but you hadn’t been able to get another fix on the man.

The tracker stopped giving off a signal somewhere around El Eden, outside Jericó. There was no way for you to know if it had been knocked loose, or if it had been found, but it gave you a direction. It also put Hernandez in range of one of the last in-person sightings of Lorea, down by Las Minas.  “So I’ll drive down--” “I don’t know if you should be driving anywhere. You haven’t even gotten your stitches out yet,” You gave the phone a withering look, willing Alex to feel the power of the stare from the other end. You and Pope were at the office, looking down at a readout of all of the places the tracker had given off a signal before cutting. You’d spent the last few days checking all of the cameras we had available for Hernandez, but you hadn’t been able to get another fix on the man. Pope told you that he hadn’t gotten anything else about Hernandeze’s whereabouts from his informant, either, and that she hadn’t even expected him to be in the car that night.

The two of you had taken to calling Alex when we were in the office and having him on speakerphone when we were talking over status updates that day. You tended to go by his apartment at least once a day to check on him, make sure he was eating properly and helping out if he needed it. Pope had gone with you a couple of times, and they had been… Amiable. “Fine, you drive,” Alex retorted. You shook your head. “I’m still looking through these feeds. I get that we may get something closer to where the tracker cut, but-- I don’t want anyone going anywhere until we have something more firm. If the tech just shat the bed, or they found it and broke it, going down to El Eden isn’t going to solve anything, it’s just going to waste time.” 

“Pope, your informant doesn’t have anything?” “She didn’t the last time I spoke to her,” Pope turned his head toward the phone to answer, his eyes still set firmly on the map, “But I have a check-in with her in a couple of hours.” A check-in. You were pointedly not thinking about what that might entail. “Look, soon as we get something that looks like Hernandez--” “What if we don’t?” Alex asked. You went quiet. It was a fair question. The man had slipped up once; he’d be raising his guard, making sure nothing like that happened again. You and Pope had both been twice as cautious that week, double- and triple-checking that the door was locked before we went to bed. “We will,” Pope answered. You turned to look at him, taking in the set of his brow, the way his lips were pulling down. He meant, ‘We have to’.

--

You hadn’t had a quiet night alone without Pope since the office had been broken into. It was… Odd. Not eerie or anything, but just like something was missing. You’d briefly, stupidly, wondered if Pope felt like this when you’d stayed with Alex at the hospital. It was Pope’s apartment, he was used to being there alone. Well maybe not alone, but at least without you there-- You huffed, closing the fridge door for what had to be the fifth time that evening. Pope hadn’t told you when he’d be home back when he’d left to meet with his informant. “You gonna tell me what her name is, or should I call her Isabella 2.0?” You’d tried to tease. He’d cast you a dour look as he’d tugged jacket. “What’s it matter what her name is?” He’d asked, and the words had left him with such tired irritation that you immediately felt stupid for saying anything. “No, it… It doesn’t,” You’d mumbled. He’d just grunted, said he’d let you and ‘Brano know if he got anything, and left.

Maybe he hadn’t sounded that irritated? Maybe you’d just been thinking about it too long. Being in the apartment alone gave you a lot of time and silence in which to overthink things. You’d texted Frankie and the guys to see how they were doing, but Benny had a fight that night, so you wouldn’t be able to distract yourself with them for at least another few hours, and by then, Santiago would be home. Hopefully. Hopefully Santiago would be home. Back. Hopefully Santiago would be back. 

-- 

Hernandez is hunkered down in Las Minas. You’d jumped at the sound of your phone, and now you were just staring at the text that had come through from Santiago. Lorea? Was Alex’s answering text. Unclear, Pope’s response came through in seconds.

Las Minas, you could work with that. First thing in the morning, you’d go in and start working through the camera feeds that you could access from Diego’s office. You opened your separate texts with Santiago. Coming back soon?

You watched the screen for a few moments before setting the phone aside. A few more minutes, nothing. He’d answered Alex so quickly. You looked around the apartment, stomach churning. Maybe you wouldn’t wait until morning to head into the office and start combing through those camera feeds. 

-- 

You left him a post-it, of course. 

--

“So I’ve got five possible targets, there are like three that I’m ready to rule out, but I wanted to get your read on them before I dropped them completely,” You said, not even bothering with a ‘hello’, instead pointing to a map on the wall with printed-out imagery from the cameras you’d been able to access pinned to it, “The red tacks are the ones I think are the most likely, blue are the ones I wanna ditch.” “Have you been here all night?” Pope didn’t bother with a ‘hello’, either. “Where else would I be?” You returned your hand to the keyboard, eyes still on the monitor. “I don’t know, with Zambrano?” He said it like it was obvious, like you were over there all the time, beyond helping the guy since he was wounded. “Just stopped by after work for a bit.” “And then?” “Would you look at the map, please?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as snappy as it had, but you were… Tired, and annoyed - more annoyed than tired. Santiago had never answered your text, nor had he texted you when he got in, which you’d asked him to do on the post-it. To top it all off, he was asking if you had been at the office all night. So, presumably, he hadn’t gotten in, had spent the night elsewhere, and… And you’d gotten a tip out of it. Anything else that happened didn’t matter, and you didn’t care anyway, and this game of emotional whack-a-mole was really starting to take it out of you. 

You didn’t dare look at Pope, didn’t want to know whether he was looking at you or the map in the stilted silence that followed. But after a few moments, you heard his footsteps trail away from your desk, over to the wall, and you let yourself glance over your shoulder. Same jacket as yesterday - but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. You lowered your head back to your work, shaking your head a little. What he was wearing, what he did last night or didn’t do, none of that mattered, none of it-- “Ditch the blue.” Pope’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you grabbed the pen you’d set aside hours ago, crossing them off of the list that you’d compiled. “Too conspicuous?” You asked. “Yep.” You tossed the pen back onto the desk and glanced over at Pope, watching him look at the two remaining targets. They weren’t terribly far from one another, but they couldn’t be monitored by one person. “I’ll get Zambrano, drive down, hit them today,” Pope said, pulling his jacket sleeve back and glancing back down at his wrist, “He can drive. We won’t engage if we see anything, it’ll be strictly recon,” He added, glancing back at you.  You turned back to your computer, nodding and wordless. You didn’t like the idea, but you knew that the tip that Pope had gotten would need to be moved on quickly. “You should go back to the apartment, get some rest,” Pope added, heading for the door of your small office space. “I’ve got some stuff to wrap up here,” You shook your head. “Reina.” You looked up at Pope then, raising a brow and waiting for him to speak. He hesitated before he sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll grab walkie-talkies, Zambrano and I will radio when we’re in position.” “Fine,” You nodded, and were on your way to adding, “Be careful,” When you found yourself speaking to the door. 

-- 

“How was the fight?” You asked, leaning back from your monitor and stretching your back over your chair as you spoke into your chair. “What fight?” Alex’s voice crackled through your headset. “Mic,” Pope’s sighed over Alex’s question. “Shit, hang on, ‘Fish-- Sorry, guys,” You apologized before tapping the mute button on your headset - the controls were so damn sensitive. You’d already accidentally knocked them half a dozen times. You raised your phone back to the ear you’d pushed your headset back from. “Sorry, Fish.” “Late night?” Frankie chuckled. “... So how was the fight?” You repeated, not in the mood to touch that just yet. “It was great. Benny kicked the guy’s ass.” “Atta boy,” You grinned, pushing yourself out of your seat, “How’ve you been?” You listened to Frankie catch you up on what you’d missed the last couple of weeks, checking your phone screen now and again for any texts from Santiago or Alex, just in case. “You okay, Q?” “Fine, why?” “You sound a little...Dead.” “Forgot what a sweet-talker you were, chulo.” “You know I don’t mean it like that--” “I’m teasing, Frankie,” You smiled a little, grabbing your mug and walking over to where you’d set up the coffee maker in the back office that Diego had allotted you and Pope, “I’m fine, just… Yeah, late night. Work, you know.” You hesitated as you set your mug down, thinking. “...Frank?” “Yeah?” “Let’s say… Hypothetically… That there was a, like… Snowball’s chance in hell that there was some truth to all the teasing you’ve done about me and Pope.” “How big a snowball?” “You know that boulder that chases Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark?” “Oh, no!” Frankie laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the sound of it -- it was so light, and after the mental hell you’d been putting yourself through, it was nice to hear someone laughing about it. “What’s going on?” He asked. You looked down at the coffee pot, trying to cobble your thoughts together. “It’s just-- Ugh, hang on,” You reached up, adjusting your headset as it began to slip, your hand brushing the controls as you did, “It’s just that-- I don’t know if it’s because I’m staying with the guy, or-- Or what, but I can’t get him out of my head. It’s bad, Frankie. And I mean, it’s not new, either, I’ve had feelings for Santiago since… Since before I took this job. I mean they weren’t always serious, not like they are now, but there’s always been something there for me--” Now that you were admitting it, you couldn’t get the words to stop; they were spilling out like unorganized tupperware from a hastily shut cupboard, “But fuck, it’s just been so much-- Worse isn’t the word, I mean, noticeable, maybe. Fuck, I’ve been living with the guy, we sleep in the same bed, and he’s cuddly, and I like it way too much. I spent half the night looking for new apartments because I just… I can’t do it anymore. If I don’t get out of there, I think I’m gonna fall in lo--” “Hey Q?” Alex’s voice crackled in through your earpiece. “Hang on ‘Fish--” You sighed, raising your hand to your headset. But before you could even touch it-- “Your mic is on,” Santiago’s voice was quiet, almost regretful. Your heart slammed into your rib cage with the force of a freight train. You reached up with a shaking hand, tapping the mic button on your headset again to mute it. “...Francisco, I’m going to need to call you back.” Tag list: @justanotherblonde23​  ; @revolution-starter​  ; @emurlemur​ ; @badbitxhbuckybarnes ;  @supernaturalcat7​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​

[buckysbitch107]

An Unlikely Pair | Henry Cavill x OC

Requested: This is a requested piece. I lost the original request, but I still have everything they wanted. 

Summary: When Henry returns from set one day, he finds his girlfriend stressed and in need of a break. He decides that now is the perfect time to give her one. 

Warnings: Swearing, SMUT!!! Unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking, degrading, spanking, just overall smut, fluffy ending.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I’M SO SORRY I HAVEN’T UPDATED!!! LIFE’S A BITCH Y’ALL! Hope you guys like this one! This is not your usual Y/N post, but it was a request and I will be back to the normal Y/N stuff after this. If you have requested something, please keep in mind that I have 19 others requests planned. Writing takes time!

As Henry walks in the door, the first thing he notices is the lack of greetings from the dogs. The second thing he notices is the muttered curses coming from somewhere inside the house. Walking through the foyer, Henry approaches the dining room table where his girlfriend stands, furiously holding money and cleaning from her last appointment. She barely even notices her partner standing in the doorway as she cleans up her acrylic powders and the small container of monomer sitting on her nail area.

“Molly?” Henry says, taking a step forward towards his girlfriend, the woman spinning around and letting out a loud sigh.

“Five hours and eight colors of acrylic, and she doesn’t even leave a tip?!” Molly exclaims, the dogs under the table intrigued at what was going on. “I didn’t have to make an exception for her! I could have made her go to the salon and do something else because of Corona! BUT NO! I let her into our house, I risk the fact that I don’t know where she’s been! I TAKE TIME OUT OF MY DAY TO DO THIS WOMAN’S NAILS AND SHE HAS THE AUDACITY TO NOT LEAVE A TIP?!” After a while of slamming cabinets and making frustrated grunts, Henry sticks his arm out in front of his girlfriend, stopping her in her tracks as he pulls her into him. Molly startles for a moment before she relaxes, returning the basically bear hug that he encased her in. 

“Hi.” He whispers, staring down at her. She lets out a small sigh before looking up at him.

“Hi.” Henry presses a kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and leading her upstairs. Molly’s small protests mean nothing to the man, still dressed in elements of his costume and makeup still on his face. Henry leads her to their bedroom, the dogs staying downstairs near the heater. Molly sits down on the bed as Henry walks into the bathroom, washing the set makeup off his face before joining his girlfriend on the bed.

“You know, there is a way I can help relieve some of your stress.” He mentions, lightly trailing his fingers up and down her thigh.

“And how could you possibly do-” She turns in the middle of her sentence and eyes the mischievous look in her boyfriend’s face, stopping as she puts two and two together. “OH. So how long have you had this on your mind?”

“Oh, awhile darling.” Molly smirks, running her hand up his chest before gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him in and pressing her lips against his. Henry chuckles before returning her affections, hands roaming around her to pull her on his lap. She lets out a small squeak at the movement, causing the man to let out a husky laugh in her ear. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She retorts, giving him a small glare before leaning back in once again. By this time, Henry had already managed to start pulling off her shirt, the fabric the last thing on his mind as things started heating up. The man quickly pulls off Molly’s clothes, leaving her in her underwear as he begins to take off his own costume from the set. Molly’s hands stop him from taking off his vest and tie. “You look hot in costume.”

“Do I? I hadn’t noticed. So are you going to make me stay in this get-up or can I get back to what I was doing?” Molly lets out a small chuckle before running her hand through his perfectly styled hair. 

“I don’t know, baby. I’m kind of liking the late 19th century Holmes look.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know that I get to keep the outfit, but now I’d like to get back to taking off your clothes.” Molly lets out a small chuckle before nodding. Before she can even comprehend what’s happening, Molly’s clothes are off and Henry is kneeling over her, his own clothes strewn around the room. She runs her hands over his chest and pulls him closer, kissing him once again and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Ah ah, darling. Not yet.” Henry whispers, sliding himself downwards. He reaches her thighs and slowly begins running his mouth up and down her hips. “I want to treat my girlfriend before she lets me use her how I want.” Molly nods and Henry smirks, pulling off her underwear and licking one stripe up her slit. Letting out a loud moan, Molly reaches to run her hands through Henry’s hair when he grabs both of her wrists in his hand, pinning them above her head while his free hand remains on her hips.

“No touching, dollface.” She lets out a small whimper and Henry chuckles before returning down between her thighs. It’s not long before her legs are shaking around his head and her core is throbbing in reaction to Henry’s mouth. 

“Henry. Please. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-” He pulls away from her and she whines, making the man let out a soft chuckle.

“Come on, darling. I thought we covered what you call me while we’re in this situation.” Molly lets out a loud huff and squirms, trying to get Henry’s mouth back where it felt amazing.

“Sir, please-”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t make you wait for much longer.” He whispers, taking one last look at her some-what wrecked appearance before diving in once again as if she were his last meal. Still sensitive from her previous almost-orgasm, it doesn’t take long for the heat in her core to rebuild. Her back arches, legs clamping around his head as he holds her against him. He continues to eat her out as her moans grow higher and higher in pitch, until she gives out one last cry. 

“Sir!” She screams, her back arching painfully as Henry makes her cum. He holds her hips against his face as she writhes in his grasp, her body trying and failing to pull away from the stimulation. She squirms for a bit longer before he finally pulls away, wiping her juices off his face with his hand.

“Goddamn sweetheart, I would eat you out all day if I could.” Henry whispers, crawling his way up the bed and hovering over Molly. “And you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He ducks his head down to start suckling at her neck, slowly working his way to her collarbone and breasts. “You’d like me sitting here all day, torturing you with pleasure, wouldn’t you?” He takes her breathy moan as a yes and he chuckles, pressing a kiss behind her ear before making his way back to her chest, littering her breasts and collarbone with hickeys and lovebites.

“Please sir. I want you to fuck me. Please.” She begs, arching her back into his touch before he pulls away. 

“Always such a slut, aren’t you, darling?” His eyes silently communicate something sadistic and she nods, too hazed by orgasm to respond. Henry runs a hand along her jaw before grabbing her chin, jolting her head up to look at him. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, sir.” He smiles before grabbing her legs, resting them on his shoulder before lining himself up. Slowly pushing in,  he breathes out a quiet “fuck” when he bottoms out, a keening moan releasing from Molly’s lips. “Please.”

“God, you’re so good to me, dollface.” He mumbles, pushing her thighs against her stomach as he starts to rut into her. Starting off with a rough pace, it’s not long before both of their moans fill the room. As he keeps one hand on her thighs, Henry slides the other one to her throat, pressing lightly on the sides to make her dizzy, not unable to breathe. The action makes Molly keen, the mix of his rough pace and the dizzying hold he has on her throat pulling her closer to the ledge. Henry begins to push himself faster, occasionally bringing his hand down on her ass and watching how the impact affects her.

“FUCK! Please, sir. Fill me up with your cum, please, I want it so bad.”

“Do you?” Molly nods in response and Henry lets out a low chuckle, still pushing into her as his eyes gleam at her. “Of course you do. You’re just my little cumslut, aren’t you? Huh, darling?”

“Yes, I’m just your little cumslut.” She responds, his words affected her in ways unimagined before she met him.

“Then take it.” He whispers, leaning down to scrape his teeth against her collarbone as he somehow starts thrusting harder, Molly’s moans rising impossibly higher in pitch. A few more thrusts and she’s done for, cumming hard and squeezing Henry’s cock. It’s not much longer until he’s done as well, the combination of her breathy moans and vice-like cunt not helping him to last. His hips stutter and he releases a string of curses, stopping the thrusts of his hips and holding on to Molly’s thighs as he cums. Her soft pants fill the room and he pulls away, a small whimper leaving her lips. He does the last thing she would have expected, and he starts laughing.

“What seems so funny?” Molly asks, her voice slightly hoarse from screaming.

“I have no idea what I did to deserve you.” He whispers, pressing a small kiss to her lips before walking to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wiping both his cock and her pussy off carefully. She lays there quietly as he does so, only reacting to anything when he comes back and slips under the covers next to her, now clad in his favorite gray boxers.

“I feel the same way.” Molly responds. Henry lets out a scoff as he wraps his arm around her, pulling her into his chest.

“How could you ever feel that you are undeserving, darling? You’re practically perfect.”

“That’s debatable.” He sits up on his elbow, staring down at her before frowning.

“Nope, I won’t allow it.” Henry stands up, confusing Molly for a moment before he turns around, poking her side.

“Wha- no. NO!” She protests, barely given any warning before he begins to tickle her, a normal occasion when she begins to self-deprecate. “STOP!”

“Not until you say you love yourself.”

“NO!”

“SAY IT!” Her insides are practically screaming at her, so she admits defeat, yelling “FINE! ALRIGHT! I LOVE MYSELF!” Henry stops, once again straddling her and he smiles, flopping down to lay next to her.

“That’s more like it.”

The two of them lay there, basking in the “after-sex” glow, when they hear four paws scratching at the door.

“Oh dear god.” Molly laughs, “We left the dogs outside our room.”

“Well I don’t think they would have wanted to see what happened inside.” Henry mutters, slowly pulling back the covers. Molly whacks him on the shoulder and laughs.

“Shut up and let the clingy beings in.”

“Yes, darling.”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut​ @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs​ @andreasworlsboring101 @yaxamarvel @donutloverxo​ @celaena-carstairs-cullen​​ @wild-rose-35​

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! My Prompts list is attached to my masterlist in case you need something extra! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

[haliyam]

interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

--

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you. 

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest. 

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat. 

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale. 

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard. 

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!” 

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.” 

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear. 

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you. 

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard. 

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—” 

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?” 

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes. 

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?” 

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear. 

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

--

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside. 

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.” 

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name. 

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs. 

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager. 

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs. 

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak. 

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are. 

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration. 

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes. 

“Night, Lucy.”

--

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?” 

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you. 

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

--

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading! 

[hookedonapirate]

Miss Fix-It

Summary: Miracle worker. Relationship Guru. Savior.

These are just a few of her monikers, but most people have taken to call her Miss Fix-It. Helping broken-hearted women get back together with their former boyfriends is her specialty. How does she do it, you ask? Simple—she becomes his date from hell so he’ll realize what a catch he had before he let her go.

Emma Swan is an expert at fixing relationships, it’s just too bad she’ll never have one of her own.

Her particular set of talents is tested, however, when a cheating ex-girlfriend requests her services. Emma’s reluctant at first. It’s not an easy task to make someone seem like a catch when they’ve cheated, but the potential client is an emotional wreck desperate to get her former boyfriend back before he heads back to England. Besides, Emma Swan never backs down from a challenge. They don’t call her Miss Fix-It for nothing. She’ll find a way to make him wish he was back in his ex-girlfriend’s arms, no matter what it takes. If only she can squash the feelings she develops for him and stop breaking her rules.

My Best Friend’s Girl meets How to Lose a Guy in 10 days.

A/N: A big shout out to @ultraluckycatnd for beta reading and to @onceuponaprincessworld for letting me share my ideas with her! 

Wow, I hadn't realized how long it's been since I updated this story until I saw the date I last posted, which was May 2020!!! I'm so sorry it's been so long. A lot has happened since then and I know I've probably lost some readers, but for those of you who have stuck around, thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy the chapter ♥️

This is now part of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon collection, as it is primarily based on the movie Mr. Fix-It. Thanks @csmm for putting this together!

Also available on: AO3 l FF.N

Catch up: Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Chapter 5

“Hold on, love.” Killian steps back as he eyes Granny’s diner like he’s staring his worst nightmare in the face. He glances at Emma as confusion furrows her brows. “This is where you’re taking me?”

She nods. “Yeah. They have the best strawberry cheesecake pancakes. Trust me—a sugar coma is way better than an alcohol coma.”

His expression clouds with hesitation as he shakes his head. “I can’t go in. Ruby works here.”

“Not tonight.”

Killian lifts a brow. “How do you know?”

Damn. 

Emma curses herself as she keeps a straight face. Killian’s not the one who told her he went to her apartment to drop off her things; David did. “Because in the several texts Mary Margaret sent me, she mentioned Ruby was helping her with the invitations. Ruby needed a distraction.”

“Oh.” The creases in his forehead deepen. “Then why does Mary Margaret need David’s help, too?”

“I don’t know,” Emma snaps, louder than intended. Good God, this guy asks a lot of questions. “Probably because when Mary Margaret freaks out,” her eyes widen and she makes hand gestures for emphasis, “she freaks out.”

Killian scratches his ear as he looks inside the diner. “Still, I’m sure everyone who works here has heard the news and I’m not sure I want to—”

Emma grabs his hand and pulls him inside, not willing to argue about it, mostly because she doesn’t have a back-up plan. She didn’t want to make it seem like she pre-orchestrated this whole thing. He relents reluctantly and lets her lead him to a booth. “I’m not taking no for an answer. If you’ve ever had their strawberry cheesecake pancakes, you would understand.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. It’s good comfort food.”

They sit across from each other, and when Ashley tries to give them menus, Emma holds up her hand to reject them. “We already know what we want. I’ll have my usual hot cocoa and he’ll have an order of strawberry cheesecake pancakes with extra everything and chocolate milk.”

Killian doesn’t argue with her about it.

“Okay.” Ashley puts on a smile which fades when she looks at Killian, her eyes clouding with sympathy. “I heard what happened between you and Ruby. I’m so sorry.”

Killian pins Emma with an “I told you so” glare. She offers an apologetic smile in return. “Thanks, Ashley, but I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you don’t look—”

“It’s okay, Ash,” Emma interjects, waving off Ashley’s words with her hand. “He just needs to shove down his emotions with a heaping plate of sugar and shame, wash it down with chocolate milk, and then he’ll be perfect.”

Ashley glances between them suspiciously. “Wait, is this your way of getting back at Ruby?” she asks Killian as she points at Emma with the menus in her hand.

“No, I’m not getting back at Ruby,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. He looks at Emma. “She’s a friend.”

She’s not sure why, but her heart warms at the sentiment.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Emma asks defensively. “It is a small town, and well, we both know Ruby.”

“True, I’ve just never seen you together.”

Emma refrains from sighing in exasperation. Why is everyone a fucking detective all of a sudden?

Maybe Killian was right—they should’ve gone somewhere else.

“We just met tonight,” Killian says. “She works at the Rabbit Hole, now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Ashley says in surprise.

“Can we get that hot cocoa and those pancakes now?” Emma asks impatiently, growing frustrated and a little panicked. This is exactly why she always meets her targets outside of town where people don't know her and won't ask a bunch of prying questions.

“Of course. Coming right up,” she assures before walking away.

Ashley returns a moment later with their beverages. Killian just stares blankly at his chocolate milk as Emma dips her finger in the whipped cream from her hot cocoa and brings it to her mouth, sucking off the sugary substance. Expecting Killian to watch her, she’s kind of disappointed when he doesn’t. Licking the whipped cream off her finger is a foolproof tactic that always garner’s the guy’s attention no matter what. But apparently not with Killian. Instead, he leans his elbows on the table and looks around like he’s afraid Ruby will suddenly pop into the diner at any moment.

This is going to be harder than she originally speculated.

“Look, if it really bothers you to be here, we can go somewhere else,” she sighs in retreat.

“No, it’s fine,” he says gloomily. “It’s just…” His words trail off and the earlier despair she’d witnessed on his face reappears. “This is where Ruby and I met,” he explains with a sad smile. “I came here after moving into my new apartment all day and she was my waitress.” His eyes shine with unshed tears as he recalls the night he met her like it were yesterday. “I’d had the worst day; nothing went as it was supposed to. But when I sat down at this exact booth, Ruby came over to me with the brightest smile on her face and she instantly cheered me up.” A tear slips from Killian’s eyes—a tear she could tell he was trying to fight back. “And um, we just hit it off. Her shift was ending soon, so after she clocked out, she sat across from me and we talked for hours.”

More tears slide down his cheeks. “I’ll never forget that night, no matter how much I want to forget it. No matter how much the image of seeing her with…” He pauses, his hands fisting on the table, his teeth gritting, “with my best friend.” An unexpected sob escapes him as he drops his face in his hands, and Emma scans the diner, wondering if anyone heard, but only a few customers glance over and then return their attention to either their food or the person sitting in front of them. 

When Killian cries into his palms, Emma’s heart breaks for him. He really liked Ruby—or loved; she doesn’t really know—but she could sense how torn up he was over being cheated on by her. His cries become louder and his body jerks and trembles as inhuman sounds wretch from his throat. Emma’s heart is gripped with emotion; she can feel the sadness he’s expressing from across the table. She hates seeing him like this, and it has nothing to do with the show he’s displaying for the diner patrons. 

Responding on instinct, she jumps from her seat, hurries to his side of the booth, and sits next to him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. She looks around, giving the customers who are staring a slight, apologetic smile. Normally she would never dream of sitting on the same side of the table with someone while the seat across from them is empty, but this is one of those rare exceptions.

Killian takes her off guard when he thrusts his head against her chest and winds his arms around her, sobbing into her shirt. Emma’s eyes widen in shock as she brings both hands to his back, one giving him a gentle pat. Other than that, she has no idea what to do. What do you tell someone you just met that will make them feel better when they’re sobbing uncontrollably? She can’t tell him everything will be okay, can she? 

She peers down at him, wondering how things escalated so quickly. She’d brought him to this diner specifically so the memories of Ruby would unleash the emotions he hasn’t yet expressed, hoping he would open up to her. She expected a current and maybe a little mist, but she didn’t expect the fucking dams to break. 

Emma’s blouse and chest become damp from his tears as she cards a hand through his hair, feeling him tremble in her arms. She had unfastened the first few buttons a while ago, so her chest is soaked too, and his head is cradled just above her breasts.

Not that she’s complaining.

Emma gently turns her head to look for Ashley, not wanting her to freak out over seeing him break down like he is, and when she sees their server approaching, she whispers to Killian, “Ashley’s coming over here.”

He sniffles and lifts his head, wiping the tears from his face and whispering a thanks.

Emma picks up a wrapped silverware set and removes the napkin, offering it to Killian.

“Bloody hell, love. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles in apology as he wipes his tears with the napkin.

Ashley arrives at their table, dropping off the plate of pancakes. “Strawberry cheesecake pancakes with extra everything. Anything else I can get—” She pauses when she catches Killian’s face. “Are you okay?”

He nods and wipes under his eyes with the napkin. “Aye. I’m fine. Just got something in my eye is all.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, obviously not believing him. And judging by the stink-eye Ashley’s giving her, Emma can tell she doesn’t believe she and Killian are only friends.

“He’ll be fine once he eats his pancakes,” Emma assures her.

“All right, well, let me know if there’s anything else you need,” she says directly to Killian.

“Thanks, lass,” he murmurs, staring blankly at his plate. After Ashley leaves, Emma grabs a fork, scoops up a bit of pancake and brings it to his lips. “Here, try a bite.” She thinks he might refuse it, but instead, he reluctantly opens his mouth, allowing her to feed him.

Wow, this is the weirdest date she’s ever been on.

If you can even call it a date.

Surprisingly, he chews the food in his mouth and licks his lips.

Oh my.

Emma has to look away and clench her thighs, trying to rid the thoughts of other things he could be doing with that tongue. Specifically, things he could be doing to her.

“You were right, love. These pancakes are actually making me feel better.”

His statement throws her for a loop, and she whips her head toward him, lifting a brow. “Really?”

He offers a small smile. “A little.” He takes the fork from her and stabs at another piece. “But I’ll probably stop feeling better once it’s gone, so maybe you could ask Ashley to keep the pancakes coming?”

Emma manages a small laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ll end up feeling worse than you already do.”

He frowns. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Emma sighs into her hot cocoa and takes a sip.

Yep, she certainly has her work cut out for her.

Emma tries to change the subject by asking what his favorite bands are, but then he veers right back into the subject of Ruby when he recalls how he went to her place to return her things, which included her CDs. He mentions it because he also had his CDs at her place, but she refused to hand them over until he was willing to let her talk. But he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to get his things and leave, but instead, he stayed and argued with her until they were both blue in the face.

Nevertheless, Emma gives him her undivided attention as he rambles on, so he feels comfortable enough to open up to her.

When he finishes the pancakes, he was right about feeling miserable again and tries to order more. Emma pays the bill before he can, and has to drag him out of the diner.

“Are you okay with driving home?” she asks when they return to the bar.

“Aye. Another benefit of having pancakes instead of rum is I can’t get drunk from pancakes.”

“Well, unless they were rum pancakes,” she points out.

His eyes light up with curiosity, and Emma gets the feeling she's created a monster. “Rum pancakes? Do they make those?”

She laughs. “Not sure, but I think the best thing to do now is sleep.”

He frowns. “I don’t know if I can. Every time I close my eyes, I picture her with him, and I can’t…” His voice cracks, and his eyes well with tears again.

Emma’s heart breaks. She knew he was torn up, but she really had no idea just how torn up he was. The old pancake trick didn’t work, all it did was make him want more pancakes, so she knows she’ll have to resort to drastic measures. Emma grabs his hand and hauls him down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going, love?” 

“You obviously need to release some major stress, and I know the perfect place where you can do that.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue—she doesn’t think he has enough energy to argue with her if he wanted to—and soon they’re standing in front of a building with a big sign above the door that reads, “Break Room Therapy” in bold blue letters and features an illustration of a pair of crossed sledgehammers.

Killian furrows his brows. “What is this place?”

Emma’s mouth falls open in shock. “I thought you lived in Storybrooke, and yet you’ve never been here?”

He shakes his head. “I see this place all the time but never knew what it really was. I always see women going in here, so I didn’t think it was a place for a lad like myself.”

Emma shakes her head. “This is a place we can go where no one will think we’re crazy if we break some shit, but it’s not just for women. We’re not the only ones who need to let off some steam sometimes.”

He cocks a brow. “Break some shit? What kind of shit?”

Emma smirks and opens the door for him, gesturing inside. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He’s hesitant, but steps inside and she follows behind him. They approach the desk where her friend, Archie, is sitting, his face buried in a book. His office has the appearance of a typical break room, a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops on his desk, a water cooler and a life-sized statue of baby Yoda standing on a mini-fridge and holding a sign that reads, “Welcome to Break Room Therapy.”

“Appointments only,” Archie says as he lifts his eyes from his book to greet the incoming customers. His lips form a big smile when he sees Emma. “Oh, hi Emma. My apologies, I didn’t realize it was you,” he says, setting the book down and rising from his seat.

“Hey, Archie,” she greets with a smile.

“Back again so soon, I see?”

Emma nods. “Uh, yeah, but not for me. She grabs Killian’s arm who has his hands shoved in his pockets, still standing by the door with an awkward look on his face. “This is my friend, Killian. He needs to use one of your rooms.”

“Oh, right, of course.” He gestures toward the chairs in front of the desk. “Please have a seat.”

Killian still looks unsure, but complies anyway, slumping into a chair next to Emma as Archie reclaims his seat across from them.

“So what brings you in tonight?” he asks Killian.

“He got cheated on by his girlfriend,” Emma answers when she suspects Killian doesn’t want to.

His face clouds with sorrow as Archie’s saddens. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, this is the right place for you, then.”

Killian furrows his brows and looks around. “What exactly is this place?”

Archie exchanges a look with Emma before returning his attention to Killian. “This is a place where you can release some of that pent up anger you’re feeling right now.” Archie looks at Emma. “Will you be joining him?”

She nods. “Yes, please.”

He prints some papers and gives Killian and Emma both a copy, pointing out for Killian with a pen where to sign and date.

Killian scans over the forms, his forehead wrinkled in confusion as he reads a line out loud. “I hereby consent to medical treatment, which may be advisable in the event of an injury?” He looks up from the document, his face awash with confusion. “Why would I need medical treatment?”

Archie casually waves a hand. “Oh, don’t worry…as long as you follow the rules and wear the protective gear properly, you should be completely fine.”

The furrow in Killian’s brows deepens. “Why would I need protective gear?”

“To protect yourself so you don’t get broken shards in your eyes or skin, of course.”

Killian’s eyes flicker with panic. “Why would I have to worry about that?”

“Just sign it, Killian,” Emma huffs in irritation as she hands Archie her signed papers.

He puts up a hand of dismissal. “Now, now, Emma. Killian must consent to the terms voluntarily.”

“This is supposed to help me feel better?” Killian asks, still uncertain about this entire thing.

“Yes, just trust me. I come here all the time to release stress. It works like a charm. And it’s a lot of fun.”

Killian considers her words and scans over the documents once more before scribbling his signature. “Fine. I can’t possibly feel worse than I do already.” He hands Archie the signed papers.

“That’s the spirit,” Emma chants, clapping her hands.

“Excellent,” Archie says with a grin. “Let’s get you suited up.”

They rise, and Archie leads them to the equipment and protective gear. After some quick instructions, he asks them which weapons they prefer.

With each of them wearing a face shield, Killian holding a sledgehammer and Emma carrying a baseball bat, they head to one of the rooms.

“Have a smashing good time,” Archie quips and closes the door, standing outside the caged window to monitor and take pictures. The walls are made of OSB and the floor is marked up with black duct tape. There’s a round table in the center of the room with a flatscreen computer monitor situated upright.

“After you,” Emma says, gesturing toward the monitor.

Killian looks at her, still unsure. “I just smash it?”

She gives a nod. “You just smash it.”

Killian raises the hammer into the air with both hands, and with a shaky breath, he strikes the monitor with hesitant force, barely making a dent.

“Come on, Killian, you can do better than that. Just think about how angry Ruby made you when you saw her fucking your best friend. Just let yourself feel that rage and release it.” Before Emma’s done speaking, he smashes the computer again with a more powerful force than before.

“That’s it. Just let it out!” she encourages.

So he does. He turns the monitor over, so the screen is facing the ceiling, and strikes it with the sledgehammer, smashing the screen with a groan. He shatters the rest of the glass into a million pieces, much like Ruby did to his heart. But he doesn’t stop there; he strikes the computer over and over and over again until it’s nothing but a mangled and mutilated piece of scrap.

He has to pause to steady his breathing.

“Feel better?” she asks with a laugh.

“Actually, yes, that does feel quite good. What’s next?”

“Easy, tiger. It’s my turn.” Emma sets down the bat, grabs a plate from the crate of breakable items and tosses it across the room, the dish shattering into the wall with a satisfying smash. Killian follows suit and sets down the hammer to pick up a glass bottle, tossing it at the wall, watching as it disintegrates into a thousand tiny pieces.

A hint of a smile appears on his lips. “This is fun, love.”

“I told you.” She tosses another plate against the wall like a frisbee.

They each take turns, smashing items with a sledgehammer or bat, or throwing them against the wall, the room filled with sounds of heavy panting, grunts and glass breaking or plastic being obliterated. While Killian releases the whirlwind of emotions resulting from his breakup and takes out his rage for Ruby and Victor on electronic equipment, Emma takes hers out on multiple dishes for having to lie to Killian, and for feeling pressured by her best friend and Ruby to do this job in the first place. She’s spent a lot of time in this same room, but most of the time she acts out the rage she will always feel for the bastard she married and trusted before he broke her heart into a million pieces.

When they’ve gone through all the items in the crate, they both have to catch their breaths, adrenaline pumping through them, Emma’s heart pounding mercilessly in her chest. For acts that may seem so violent, smashing items with someone else feels very intimate and exhilarating for reasons she can’t really explain. They both expressed a side of each other they don’t normally show.

“Wow, that was…” he breathes, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“A good way to work off those pancakes while releasing some steam at the same time, huh?”

“Aye, it really was,” he chuckles.

They leave the room and remove their protective gear. 

“Thanks, Archie, that was a blast...or should I say, smash!” Emma quips.

“Aye, thank you,” Killian says to him appreciatively. “That actually helped a lot.”

Archie grins. “Good, I’m glad. Come back anytime.” He waves at them as they head out the door.

“Wow, that really was therapeutic,” Killian says as they reach her car, both of them facing each other. “Thank you for bringing me there. And for the pancakes.”

“Of course. What are friends for?” she adds with a wink.

“No, really, I mean it,” he says sincerely. “I felt like complete shit tonight and you managed to make me smile and laugh and feel like myself again.”

She waves off his words. “It was nothing. I’m just glad you feel better than you did.”

“I do, thanks to you.”

“Killian—” she attempts in a tone that is meant to tell him he really doesn’t have to thank her.

“Seriously, Emma, I could kiss you right now,” he chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

Emma gulps as she stares at his lips, wondering what they would feel like if he did kiss her. She immediately squashes the thought and lifts her eyes to gaze into those crystal blue orbs instead. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

Killian steps into her space and raises a hand to her face. Her breath catches when his thumb caresses her cheek. She thinks he might actually kiss her. “Do you believe in fate?”

His question throws her for a loop and she opens her mouth, uttering a nonsensical sound as she tries to figure out how to respond to that. “Um, no, not really.”

“Well, I do. I believe we were destined to meet.”

Guilt flares inside Emma, her throat closing up. If only he knew this wasn’t destiny or fate or a fortunate stroke of serendipity. Well, meeting him at the elevator a couple of months ago was a sheer coincidence, but tonight was pre-orchestrated, and not by the universe; it was planned by her, and if he found out, she doubts he would want anything to do with her. It pains her to know he’ll hate her guts after this is all over. But she won’t blame him one bit. 

Before she gets the chance to respond, he leans in and kisses her cheek.

All the air leaves her lungs when his lips touch her skin, her brain becomes mush and she closes her eyes, trying not to dissolve into a puddle.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, his voice cracking, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“But if us meeting each other was actually part of some predetermined plan, then wouldn't we run into each other again without having to make plans?”

He chuckles. “Perhaps.” He becomes quiet as his eyes grow serious. “But maybe I'm not willing to take that chance.”

Her throat becomes dry as sandpaper. She was not expecting an answer like that. He's the one who brought up the possibility of fate being on their side, yet he's not willing to take the chance he's wrong. Even though he knows where she works and where her friends live. 

Now she knows why Ruby fell for him. Well, she kind of already figured it out, but now she knows it was more than just his charming good looks, his boyish grin or his penis size.

“Um, yeah. Okay,” she answers against her better judgment. This is all going faster than she’d expected. She meant to part ways without making plans, and instead run into him “accidentally” again, but now she’s finding it impossible to deny his request. Besides, if they did run into each other “accidentally” then, for him, it would only solidify his belief that fate brought them together, and she'd feel horrible about that. Even more horrible than she already feels. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

He offers a sly grin, his tongue flirting with his lips. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Well played.” She reaches out her hand. “Let me see your phone.”

He takes it out and unlocks it before handing the device to her without hesitation.

She plugs in her phone number and sends herself a text so she’ll recognize the number when he calls. She hands it back to him. “There, now you have my phone number, and I have yours.”

“Thanks, love.” He tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Are you good to drive?”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? Smashing that computer sobered me up real quick. But I didn’t have a lot to drink to begin with, thanks to you,” he adds with a smirk.

She nods and feels her cheeks warm at the way he looks at her. “That’s true.”

He goes around her to open the driver’s door. God, this guy really knows how to make a woman feel special, even one he's not dating.

“This isn’t even a date and you’re still a gentleman,” she teases with a playful smirk.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he says with a cheeky grin. A grin so cheeky, her heart staggers. “Goodnight, Emma. Thanks again for tonight.”

“Night,” she murmurs, her heart clenching at the thought of leaving him. When he shuts the door, their eyes are still locked through the window, and the door that separates them doesn’t seem to help her at all, because her heart is pounding, and her breaths are shallow as his eyes pierce right through her.

He waves, and she waves back at him before starting her car. He finally turns and walks to his truck, his hands in his pockets as she watches him. Her heart squeezes in her chest when he increases the distance between them. She has to leave so he doesn’t think she’s just sitting there staring at him, which she definitely is.

She pulls away from the curb and drives away, hating herself for leaving him. But she has no idea why it hurts so much. She just met him a few hours ago. Well technically she met him a couple of months ago, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, this guy is already clawing his way inside her heart, trying to make a home there and making her second guess her decision to help Ruby out. Why is it the one time she finds a guy she actually likes, he has to be one of the guys she’s trying to get back together with his girlfriend?

If destiny actually does exist, then it must be mocking her. 

Or perhaps this job is destiny’s way of helping her protect her own heart. Because if she can’t have anything real with him, then she can’t actually get hurt.

Right?

@onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @artistic-writer @ilovemesomekillianjones @hollyethecurious @gingerchangeling@ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @sophiaaz @becausetheyrehappythisway @thislassishooked @hookedmom @resident-of-storybrooke @kateroselin @chamomileandmint @kday426 @sals86 @lawgeeks @yasbio2015 @xsajx @delightfully-difficult-pirate @snowbellewells @wanderingjpg @squidvisious @tenaciouskittynight @biefaless @animatedshorts @lassluna @ejunkiet @melsbels @meat-pie-with-sauce @roseyflush @ivalane @tiganasummertree @nowforruin @qualitycoffeethings @nikkiemms @oncechicagolove @theonewiththeory @lostinwonderland314 @darkcolinodonorgasm @arshini01 @companion-mala @carpedzem @youareafeverdream @maguilar1028 @mayquita @courtorderedcake @shady-swan-jones @timeless-love-story @laschatzi @officerrogers @spartanguard @andiirivera @ouatpost @jarienn972 @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @distant-rose @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree