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faebled-stories · 14 days ago

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Behind The Wall

Kinkvember Day 8: Glory Hole

Le Sserafim's Huh Yunjin

Yunjin sank into the deep, velvet embrace of her couch, the cushions softening her exhausted frame as she let out a long, weary sigh. The echoes of the day's cacophony—cheering fans, thumping music, and sharp camera clicks—still pulsed faintly in her ears.

The life of an idol was dazzling but relentless; every hour meticulously scheduled, every move choreographed to perfection. The glitter of stage lights, interviews under glaring lamps, and the constant churn of photo shoots were exhilarating but exacted a toll. It was as if her very soul teetered on a tightrope, balancing the shimmering allure of fame against the shadow of burnout.

Through the vast floor-to-ceiling window, the city’s neon lights painted strokes of pink, blue, and gold across her apartment walls. Seoul’s night buzzed with energy; cars zipped by, people chattered and laughed, their figures flitting like restless fireflies. The symphony of life outside mocked her solitude, reminding her of the world that saw her only as an untouchable idol, never as Yunjin, the young woman who craved the freedom to simply be.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she swept her gaze over the cluttered coffee table, its surface strewn with fan mail written in colorful inks, glossy pamphlets of upcoming events, and stacks of formal letters from the agency. Her slender fingers traced absent patterns over the scattered papers, seeking something familiar in the chaos. But then, her touch stopped on an envelope that was different. It was plain, with none of the bright markings or logos she’d expected—no sender's name, no return address, just an unassuming square of paper.

The whisper of the paper crinkling as she opened it seemed magnified in the stillness. The note inside was concise, starkly so, and as her eyes scanned the words, a shiver danced along her spine:

"Looking to escape the ordinary? We offer complete anonymity. No names, no faces—just pure freedom. For those seeking a way out, come explore a world where nothing else matters."

A URL was printed below in small, unembellished text, as though any flourish might disrupt the message’s secrecy. Yunjin flipped the paper over, searching for more—an explanation, a clue to its sender—but found nothing. The edges of the note bit into her palm as her mind wrestled with intrigue and apprehension.

Her heart thudded as she glanced around her penthouse, its luxury and perfection suddenly feeling like a gilded cage. The idea of complete anonymity was as tantalizing as it was foreign. A place where her name, face, and reputation held no sway, where the burden of fame could be shed like a second skin—was such a thing even possible?

The glow of her phone lit her face as she typed the URL. The screen flickered to life, revealing a minimalist site with no distractions, no images, just a few lines of cryptic text. It spoke of an exclusive venue, a secret haven where identities dissolved, and people interacted without pasts or future judgments. A chill coursed down her arms as she read it again, each word stoking the embers of a rebellious thought that crackled within her.

She pressed her lips together, the decision forming like storm clouds in her mind. Her usual caution warred with a desperate hunger for escape. For once, she wouldn’t run it by her manager or think about potential repercussions. She would be just Yunjin, unknown and unseen.

Shaking fingers rummaged through her closet, pushing past glamorous gowns and performance outfits until she found a pair of dark jeans and a plain black hoodie. She slipped them on, the soft fabric foreign in its ordinariness. Her reflection in the mirror was almost startling—gone were the shimmering eyeshadow, sculpted features, and immaculate hair. Instead, a girl with wide, determined eyes looked back. She pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and donned a baseball cap, tucking wayward strands beneath it. Oversized sunglasses completed the disguise, shadowing her face despite the evening hour.

A small crossbody bag held her essentials, including the mysterious envelope and her phone, which she silenced before sliding it in. The muffled tick of the clock punctuated her hesitation, but the thrum in her chest urged her forward. The night was cool when she stepped out, the city’s breath washing over her as if daring her to blend into the current of people and lights.

Flagging down a cab felt like a small act of rebellion, its ordinary nature grounding her as the car hummed to life and pulled away from the curb. The rhythmic roll of the tires lulled her into contemplation. Streetlights cast fleeting halos on her window, the cityscape warping and softening in the glass’s reflection. She watched as neon signs, bustling restaurants, and late-night strollers gave way to quieter streets lined with shuttered shops and shadowed alleyways.

When the cab stopped in front of an unremarkable building, her pulse quickened. It stood under a flickering street lamp, modest and nondescript, its façade promising nothing yet holding everything she yearned for.

Yunjin paid the driver and stepped onto the cracked pavement, the city's hum receding to a low murmur. A sudden breeze lifted the edge of her hood as she pulled it lower, shielding herself from the scant light. The air tasted electric, anticipation sharp on her tongue.

This was it—a chance to disappear, to step into the unknown. The final glance over her shoulder was reflexive, a look at the life she was about to abandon, if only for a fleeting moment. With a deep breath, Yunjin pushed open the heavy door and let the shadows swallow her whole, a small smile curving her lips as the echo of her world fell away.

At the front desk, a woman with a soft, welcoming smile looked up, her glasses perched delicately on the tip of her nose, glinting under the warm glow of the overhead light. She exuded an air of quiet confidence, her poised demeanor a result of years of greeting visitors who approached with curiosity, nerves, or both.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice calm, warm, and practiced, like the embrace of a familiar song. The subtle scent of jasmine lingered in the air, a comforting contrast to the thundering beat of Yunjin’s heart. Sensing her demeanor the lady continued “First time?”

Yunjin gulped, the lump in her throat making her voice feel small and fragile. “Yes,” she replied, her tone soft and almost wavering, as if any louder would betray the torrent of emotions coursing through her.

The woman’s eyes, sharp yet kind, softened with a knowing glimmer as she slid a clipboard toward Yunjin across the polished, dark wood of the counter. The faint slide of paper against wood felt louder than it was, reverberating in Yunjin’s heightened state. “No worries, it’s all straightforward here. Just sign this waiver, and let me explain the options.” The receptionist’s tone was even, her words crafted to soothe. The clipboard itself seemed ordinary but held a gravity Yunjin wasn’t prepared for—a silent gateway between the ordinary and the unknown.

Yunjin's eyes dropped to the clipboard, the neatly printed text blurring slightly as her thoughts raced. The room felt warm, her breath shallow as she fought to calm herself. The woman’s voice interrupted her reverie, a steady anchor to the moment. “You can choose to give pleasure or receive it—whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

Yunjin’s pulse quickened, the choice startling in its simplicity yet weighted with implications. The muffled hum of distant music reached her ears, blending with the low thrum of blood rushing through her veins. She hadn’t anticipated the tension, the sudden clarity required for this decision.

“Um…” The hesitation hung between them, a breath caught in time. Yunjin’s gaze flickered from the clipboard to the woman’s reassuring eyes, and before she could rethink it, the words fell from her lips. “I’ll… give first.”

A smile curved the receptionist’s lips, gentle and knowing. She collected the clipboard once Yunjin had signed her name, fingers brushing lightly over the polished wood. “Great,” she said with a finality that both steadied and excited Yunjin. “Once you’re ready, head to the back, and follow the instructions inside. Take your time.” The words resonated like a promise, rich with unspoken possibilities.

Yunjin's feet felt both light and weighted as she moved through the hallway, each step echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. The corridor was lined with antique sconces that cast warm, flickering light, their glow reminiscent of gas lamps from another era. The scent of aged wood and varnish wrapped around her, steeped in a history of whispered secrets and uncharted desires.

The booth she entered was compact, almost intimate, its wooden frame dark with age and rich with a subtle scent of cedar. Faint scratches marred the surface, stories untold but felt through the marks of time. Yunjin adjusted herself on the worn seat, the old wood creaking beneath her slight movements. The small space was a capsule of warmth and nervous energy, making the moment feel both surreal and thrilling.

A deep breath filled her lungs as she closed her eyes, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. The booth's walls seemed to close in protectively, muting the world outside and intensifying her awareness of herself. The anticipation coiled within her, electric and alive, as she opened herself up to whatever came next, ready to step across the invisible threshold and into the unknown.

Suddenly, a slight movement near her face broke her concentration. Her gaze shifted and there it was—a small, round hole in the partition between booths, a portal to the unknown. Through it, the tip of a penis slowly emerged, its presence both startling and enticing. The anonymity of the situation only added to the allure, as Yunjin found herself face to face with the mystery of a man she could neither see nor touch, save for this intimate connection.

The member that presented itself through the partition was of a decent size, neither intimidating nor meek. It commanded Yunjin's attention, a silent invitation to a dance of lust and longing. With a deep breath, she reminded herself to take her time, to explore and savor the experience. She was an artist, and this was her canvas.

As she leaned in, the warmth of her lips met the head of the cock with a gentle, yet commanding touch. Her technique was impeccable, a result of years of honing her craft. A low groan from the other side of the partition confirmed her skill, and a surge of empowerment washed over her. She was in control, a maestro conducting an orchestra of desire.

With each slide of her mouth, her tongue traced the sensitive underside of his member, eliciting a symphony of responses from the stranger. His breathing grew heavier, punctuating the air with anticipation. The twitching of his member within her mouth was a silent testament to her mastery, a sign that she was navigating the dance of desire with expert precision.

Yunjin's own moans began to mingle with the stranger's labored breaths, a chorus that filled the small, private space. She couldn't deny the pleasure she found in this unconventional tryst. There was a unique thrill in the anonymity, a liberation in the act of pleasuring someone whose face she would never know. It was a connection that transcended the physical, rooted in the raw and real exchange of passion.

The pace of her actions increased, her head bobbing with growing urgency, the wet sounds of her endeavors a testament to the fervor of the moment. She could sense the stranger's tension mounting, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged as he approached the precipice of release.

As the tension escalated, Yunjin sensed the subtle changes in the man's breathing—a mix of shallow, quick breaths escalating into a desperate, primal rhythm. The air grew thick with anticipation, and her heart pounded in sync with his. The cock in her mouth, already swollen with arousal, seemed to pulse with an electric charge, signaling the inevitable. His body tensed, muscles rigid as his climax built to an unstoppable crescendo. With just a whisper of warning, the stranger's control slipped away. A guttural, low growl vibrated through his chest, primal and raw, echoing in the confined space around them. Then, the release. It came like a warm, forceful flood, his hot, salty essence filling Yunjin's mouth with a sudden rush. She felt the throbbing intensify, each pulse delivering more of his essence, hot and thick against her tongue. Yunjin, caught in the wave of his ecstasy, swallowed eagerly, the flavors mixing in her mouth—salty, slightly bitter, yet uniquely intimate. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation, her own arousal amplifying as she savored the taste, the heat, the sheer intimacy of the act. As he reached his peak, she could feel the tension in his body slowly ebbing away, the throbbing now a slower, gentler rhythm. The cock in her mouth began to soften, no longer the rigid rod of before, but yielding, becoming more pliable. Yunjin held him there, her lips and tongue still caressing, prolonging the connection. The afterglow of his climax lingered on her taste buds as she gently released him with a soft wet pop, her lips tracing a soft path along the now relaxed shaft, leaving a trail of warmth. The moment, intense and fleeting, left them both in a haze of satisfaction, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

A murmured thanks floated through the hole, a small acknowledgment of the intense connection they had shared, however fleeting. Yunjin took a moment to catch her breath, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the encounter.

Despite the fleeting nature of their interaction, Yunjin felt a profound bond with the faceless man on the other side of the wall. It was a bond forged by mutual pleasure and vulnerability, a memory that would linger long after the carnival lights had dimmed.

Just as she began to compose herself, another surprise awaited her. From a different opening in the partition, a second shaft appeared—this one significantly larger and more imposing. Yunjin's breath hitched in her throat as she eyed the newcomer with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. The first encounter had been a warm-up, but this? This was a challenge.

She hesitated, pondering if she could accommodate such a size, but the thrill of the challenge won out. With a cautious but determined glance, she edged closer to the second hole. Yunjin was ready to take the ride.

As she steeled herself, Yunjin's gaze was locked on the formidable appendage that stood before her. It was a symbol of virility and power, and she was determined to conquer it. With a deep breath, she leaned forward, her heart pounding like a drumline in her chest. The moment of contact was electric; her soft lips met the massive head of the cock, and a surge of warmth and intensity coursed through her. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation as she focused all her strength and concentration on the task ahead.

The journey had begun, and Yunjin was committed to seeing it through. She slid her lips down the lengthy shaft, each inch a testament to her determination. The cock throbbed and pulsed in her mouth, a living embodiment of the challenge she had accepted. It was a tight fit, pushing the limits of her oral cavity, and she could feel her throat constricting as she valiantly attempted to accommodate more of the imposing member.

Gagging and sputtering were inevitable, but Yunjin's will was made of sterner stuff. She refused to yield, pushing herself further, taking in more and more until she felt the cock hit the back of her throat. The sensation was overwhelming, but she welcomed it, pausing only to adjust before resuming her rhythmic motion. Her head bobbed back and forth, the cock sliding in and out of her mouth with practiced ease, a dance of passion and perseverance.

The thrill of the challenge was intoxicating. Yunjin's pulse raced with excitement as she deepthroats the massive cock, each thrust a declaration of her own capabilities. She was acutely aware of the wet patch growing on her panties, a visible sign of her arousal, as she moaned softly, the sound muffled by the object of her conquest. She was lost in the moment, her world narrowed to the feeling of being completely filled, completely consumed by the task at hand.

Her determination was not in vain. The man's body tensed, his breaths became labored gasps, and Yunjin knew she had driven him to the brink. The moment of truth arrived as his dick twitched and pulsed in her mouth, releasing a torrent of cum. She swallowed quickly, striving to keep up with the force of his ejaculation, but the sheer volume was overwhelming. Cum splashed against the back of her throat, overflowed, and covered her chin, dripping down her chest in a testament to her efforts.

Yunjin, a woman of remarkable poise and sensuality, found herself in a scenario that would have left many reeling. She had just concluded an intense session with two well-endowed partners, each man bringing his own brand of fervor and demanding her full attention and physicality. The encounter had been a marathon of pleasure and exertion, pushing Yunjin to the brink of her sexual prowess. Yet, as the second man withdrew, spent and satisfied, Yunjin was faced with an unanticipated third act.

Through the other hole stood another man, his desire evident and his anticipation palpable. His penis, while not as imposing as the ones that had preceded it, still presented a challenge. Yunjin, ever the consummate lover, was not one to back down from a challenge. She understood that satisfaction comes in many sizes and that her journey was far from over.

With a deep breath to center herself, Yunjin leaned in, her eyes locked onto his member as she took the whole cock easily into her mouth. The warmth of his flesh against her lips was a familiar sensation, yet it brought with it a new set of expectations. She was determined to lavish upon this man the same meticulous attention that she had given to the others, to bring him to the heights of pleasure despite the lingering sensation of fullness that still resonated within her from her previous encounters.

As she worked her magic, the man's response was immediate and visceral. He quickly reached his climax, and Yunjin braced herself for what was to come. To her astonishment, his orgasm was voluminous, exceeding even the generous offerings of the two men before him, combined. The warm, thick salty liquid hit the back of her throat with a force that caused her gag reflex to activate, the excess spilling out of her mouth and trickling down her chin.

The sensation was overwhelming, and Yunjin made a swift decision. She couldn’t take any more inside of her; she had reached her limit. Instead, she guided the man to finish all over her face. With her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she surrendered to the sensory overload. The cum splattered in waves across her face, marking her porcelain skin and staining her crimson hair with ropes of his essence. It dripped down her neck, leaving trails that soaked into her LE SSERAFIM top, a badge of honor from her latest conquest..

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on Yunjin. Here she was, a woman who had always prided herself on her control and composure, covered in the evidence of her sexual escapades. Yet, far from feeling debased, she felt empowered. The sensation was strange, yet not unpleasant, and in the midst of the chaos, she found a moment of quiet appreciation for the extremes to which her body and mind could be pushed.

As the man caught his breath and pulled away, Yunjin opened her eyes. A smile played across her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the journey she had just completed. She had not only endured but had triumphed, satisfying yet another partner with grace and determination. The experience had been intense, physically challenging, and emotionally exhausting, but it had also been exhilarating.

Yunjin stood, her body glistening with the remnants of her encounters, and made her way to the mirror. She gazed at her reflection, at the cum-covered visage that stared back at her, and she felt a surge of pride. She had pushed herself beyond her limits, and had proven to herself that she was capable of anything. In that moment, Yunjin embraced her strength, her resilience, and the sheer power of her sexuality.

She took a moment to catch her breath. She felt a weight lifted off her shoulders, and a sense of calm washed over her. But she was not ready to stop just yet. Quickly using the provided wipes, she cleaned herself slightly before she gathered up her remaining energy and boldly decided to continue.

Yunjin's heart danced to the staccato rhythm of her racing pulse as she navigated the dimly lit corridors of the building, her every step echoing the potent cocktail of excitement and trepidation coursing through her veins. She arrived at her destination, a secluded alcove whispered about in the hushed tones of the initiated, where the boundaries of the self are willingly blurred.

With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Yunjin began the ritual of undressing, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal the canvas of her unadorned skin. The cool air of the room kissed her bare flesh, sending a shiver down her spine, a tangible reminder of her exposed state. It was in this moment of nakedness, both literal and metaphorical, that Yunjin felt truly alive, her senses heightened to the symphony of whispers, rustling fabric, and the faint scent of desire that permeated the air.

Carefully, she positioned herself, ensuring comfort and security, but also the deliberate display of her most intimate self. The hole before her served as a portal to a world of anonymous connections, her bare pussy an offering to the unknown. As she closed her eyes, Yunjin surrendered to the vulnerability of her situation, a willing participant in the dance of the flesh.

The sounds from the adjacent room grew in intensity, a cacophony of deep moans and heavy breathing that spoke of the primal acts unfolding mere inches away. It was not long before the first of her anonymous suitors approached, his fingers tracing the contours of her exposed lower body with a reverence that belied the raw encounter to come.

He wastes no time in claiming what he sought, gripping Yunjin's hips with an urgency that communicated his need. She felt the heat of his body, the insistent press of his cock against her, seeking entry into the slick warmth of her tight cunt. As he entered her, Yunjin braced herself against the intrusion, the sensation of being filled overwhelming her senses.

The man's thrusts were fast and deep, driven by the intoxicating tightness that enveloped him. Yunjin's moans melded with the symphony of sounds that filled the room, her body responding to the relentless rhythm. Having spent the earlier part of the night pleasuring a succession of faceless men, now it was her turn to bask in the waves of pleasure that threatened to engulf her.

Yunjin's body trembled uncontrollably as wave after wave of intense pleasure coursed through her veins. She could feel every inch of the man behind the wall. His thrusts were relentless, almost brutal in their intensity, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded to his touch.

She could hear the man's grunts and groans growing louder with each thrust, his hips slamming into her with a primal urgency that made her heart race. It was clear that he was chasing his own high, focused solely on the intense sensations coursing through his body.

Yunjin tried to match his rhythm, meeting each thrust with one of her own, but she was quickly overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her. She could feel her orgasm building deep within her, the tension coiling in her belly as she gasped for breath.

Yunjin, in that moment, was just another warm, wet body used solely for pleasure. An extension of the overwhelming stimulation that threatened to swallow her whole. The scent of sex was thick in the air of the crowded room, mixing with the heady aroma of cologne and the musk of aroused bodies.

All around them, others writhed and cried out in ecstasy. Moans and screams filled the air, punctuated by the wet slap of flesh on flesh. It was a debauched scene straight out of Yunjin's wildest fantasies. And yet, even as her body climbed higher and higher towards the peak, her mind felt strangely detached. It was as if she was watching the whole thing unfold from outside herself.

The man's thrusts grew more erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own end. Yunjin could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her core, her nails digging into the supple leather beneath her as she teetered on the very edge of oblivion.

With a final, powerful thrust, Yunjin's body tensed as she felt her world shatter into a thousand pieces. Her orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave, a rush of intense pleasure coursing through her veins and leaving her breathless. She threw her head back and cried out, the sound echoing through the room as she reveled in the indescribable sensation.

The man, still buried deep inside of her, let out a low groan as he felt her climax. He could feel her muscles contracting around him, pulling him deeper as she rode out the waves of pleasure. With a few more thrusts, he followed suit, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her. The warmth of his seed filled her to the brim, a delicious sensation that only served to prolong her own orgasm.

"Ohhh yes!" Yunjin cried out, her voice filled with pure ecstasy. The intensity of the moment was etched into her memory, a moment of pure bliss that she would never forget.

As the first man finished his climax, he pulled out, leaving Yunjin's hungry hole exposed and glistening with a mixture of sweat and the evidence of his pleasure. But there was no time for respite in this den of hedonism. No sooner had he withdrawn than another figure loomed, his member rigid and ready. Without hesitation, he plunged into her cum-slicked opening, claiming her for his own.

He started pumping with an urgency that matched the rhythm of her own racing heart. The wet sounds of their union resonated throughout the room, a testament to the slick, fervent fucking that was underway. Yunjin's body responded instinctively, her hips rocking back to meet his every thrust, her fingers clawing at the edges of the bench that supported her.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she panted, her voice a symphony of lust and longing. She was a vision of abandon, her body undulating with each powerful drive of his cock. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back in ecstasy, as she rode the wave of another impending climax.

The man showed no signs of slowing down, his own desires stoking the fire within Yunjin's core. She could feel the essence of her previous partner being churned inside her, the concoction adding to the intensity of the experience. "Mmmm it's so messy!" Yunjin gasped, the sensation of fluids squelching with each thrust only heightening her arousal.

He used the slickness to his advantage, fucking her with wild abandon, his hips a blur as he hammered in and out of her willing body. The room was filled with the sounds of their coupling—the slap of skin, the wet suction of her sex, and the growing crescendo of Yunjin's moans.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Yunjin wailed, her voice cracking with the intensity of her impending orgasm. Her pussy clenched around him, the sensitive walls of her sex gripping him tightly as she reached the precipice of pleasure. Her whole body shook, racked by the force of her climax, a climax that seemed to tear through her like a storm surge, leaving her spent and trembling in its wake.

As her orgasm subsided, the man continued to thrust, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure from Yunjin's satiated form. Finally, with a guttural growl, he too found his release, adding to the cum-slicked mess that Yunjin had become.

Exhausted but thoroughly sated, Yunjin collapsed onto the bench, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. She was a writhing, moaning mess, her body marked by the intensity of her encounters. Yet, even as she lay there, the knowledge that this was but a moment in her endless pursuit of pleasure brought a knowing smile to her lips.

In the dimly lit confines of an intimate chamber, Yunjin found herself amidst a symphony of desire, a realm where pleasure was the only currency. After a series of passionate trysts, she braced herself for the final act of her evening, a performance that promised to be as memorable as it was intense.

As her body, still quivering from the reverberations of her last climax, began to settle, Yunjin sensed the approach of another. She was acutely aware that this would be her final partner for the night, and there was something decidedly different about him. The anticipation of his touch rekindled the warmth and pulsating sensitivity of her pussy, remnants of her recent orgasmic journey.

The man's presence was commanding yet tender as he teased her entrance, his warmth radiating against her sensitive flesh. She recognized him by his formidable size—the same man she had pleasured orally earlier. His endowment, both exciting and intimidating, had left a lasting impression, and the recognition only stoked the fires of her arousal.

As he began to enter her, Yunjin braced herself for the sensation of being filled beyond what she had ever known. His size was not just impressive; it bordered on the edge of her comfort zone, yet she found herself craving more. With each deliberate inch that slid inside, her body stretched to accommodate his girth, yielding to his impressive member with a mix of trepidation and eagerness.

The intensity of fullness was almost too much to bear, but it was swiftly replaced by waves of pleasure that accompanied each of his thrusts. Her body was being pushed to its limits, but in the most exhilarating way imaginable. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his shaft, creating a friction that sent shivers of delight coursing through her.

Instinct took over, and Yunjin began to match his rhythm, eager to feel him reach the deepest parts of her. The man responded in kind, increasing the force of his thrusts, making her gasp with each powerful drive. The room echoed with the raw, primal sound of their bodies uniting, a testament to the pleasure they were creating together.

Yunjin's heart raced, each beat a drumbeat echoing in her ears as she scaled the heights of her pleasure. Her legs trembled with the exertion, her muscles coiling tighter with each passing second. The air around them seemed to crackle with electricity, a palpable tension that begged for release.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, laced with the raw edge of desperation.

He responded with a powerful surge, his body moving with an intensity that matched her own fervor. Their rhythm was frenzied, a dance of two souls seeking unity in the most primal way.

"Please," she begged, her pride forgotten in the face of the overwhelming need that consumed her.

His answer was a focused, deliberate motion, a targeted strike against her inner walls that made stars explode behind her closed eyelids. Yunjin's world shattered as she reached the pinnacle of her climax. Her voice broke the stillness, a cry of pure, unadulterated bliss that filled the room.

"FUCK… you’re so big!" she exclaimed, her body arching into his, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Her inner muscles pulsed around him, a rhythmic clenching that milked his own release. He threw his head back, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he let out a deep, resonant groan. Yunjin felt the heat of his climax as he spilled into her, the sensation drawing out her own pleasure until she was utterly spent.

For a moment, they existed in a perfect state of satiation, their bodies still intimately connected. Yunjin's breaths slowly evened out, her heartbeat gradually returning to normal. She lay there, boneless and content, a soft smile playing on her lips as the aftershocks of their union rippled through her.

As the intensity of the moment subsided, Yunjin savored the feeling of completeness. The warmth of his release spread through her, a sensation that was both comforting and deeply satisfying. Her body, now spent and limp, was a testament to the pleasure he had wrought.

In the afterglow of their erotic encounter, she lay back on the leather that clung to her skin, her body a canvas of pleasure and fatigue. Her breaths came in slow, deep waves, each one a testament to the intensity of the experience they had just shared. She was in a state of blissful exhaustion, every muscle in her body seemingly liquefied in the wake of her climax.

The mystery stud, still poised behind the wall, looked at her quivering folds, his gaze held a mixture of pride and satisfaction. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye he leaned in for one final, electrifying farewell.

His hand came down on her sex with a sure, resounding slap that echoed through the room, its sharpness jolting her senses. The stinging sensation arched her back, drawing a surprised moan from her lips as the sound lingered—a provocative reminder of their raw, unrestrained passion.

Before she could fully process the shock, his mouth descended with a searing kiss to her throbbing clit, warm and intent. The heat enveloped her, sending a fresh wave of pleasure rippling through her. His tongue moved deftly, coaxing her sensitive flesh to life with skilled flicks and gentle pulls, each movement reigniting her body’s desire.

A gasp escaped her as she shivered, goosebumps rising over her skin. Still sensitive from her previous release, she felt her body surge with renewed intensity. Her every nerve responded to him, the initial sting of his touch melting into the tender warmth of his kiss, the sensations mingling in a dizzying contrast that left her breathless. She was caught in the duality of it—the lingering sting meeting the sweetness of his lips—a perfect balance between the need to retreat from the intensity and the desire to lose herself in it entirely.

With a final, lingering kiss, he pulled back, leaving her body trembling and her chest rising with deep, satiated breaths. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, she had long since lost count of her climaxes, each one more powerful than the last. As she lay there, immersed in the warmth of their connection, she knew that this night would remain etched in her memory—a moment where passion, intensity, and an unspoken bond came together in something that transcended the physical.

She rose slowly from the plush cushions her legs trembling slightly from the exertions of the evening. Standing in the dimly lit room that had been her sanctuary, she caught her reflection in the nearby mirror. Her gaze drifted over her own form—a canvas marked by the unmistakable signs of release. Her skin was damp, glistening with the mingled residue of sweat and pleasure, each trace a testament to the intensity of the night.

She felt wonderfully full, her body carrying the subtle reminders of her encounters, tokens of the night that would stay with her as she stepped back into the world.

Yunjin moved to the bathroom, her steps careful, almost reverent. Warm water streamed over her, washing away the physical remnants of her indulgence, swirling down the drain in a quiet cleanse. Yet even as the evidence vanished, she knew that the essence of the night would remain—a secret, a sense of renewal that she would carry back into her public persona.

Dressed once again in her street clothes—a chic outfit that belied the wildness of her evening—Yunjin gathered her belongings: a sleek purse, comfy sneakers, and a renewed sense of self. She paused at the mirror, captivated by her own reflection. The woman staring back was radiant, her eyes alight with a new fire, a private victory that fame alone could never quite evoke. It was a glow that belonged to her alone.

At the front desk, Yunjin was met with the same quiet discretion as when she’d first arrived. The hostess, ever the silent guardian of this hidden world, handed her a sleek business card—a subtle invitation to return. Yunjin responded with a slight smile, a silent promise to herself that she would indeed revisit this sanctuary of indulgence.

Just as she turned to leave, a familiar voice rang out behind her.

“Hi, Ms. Jeon. Welcome back!”

Yunjin froze, her heart skipping as she spun around to see none other than her friend, Jeon Somi, standing just a few feet away. Somi’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she cocked her head, taking in Yunjin’s slightly disheveled appearance. Blood rushed to Yunjin’s cheeks, embarrassment rising fast—of all people, she hadn’t expected to see Somi here.

“S-Somi?” she stammered, caught off guard. “What… what are you doing here?”

Somi chuckled, enjoying Yunjin’s flustered reaction. She took a step closer, her gaze warm but curious. “I didn’t know you knew about this place.”

Yunjin shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. “Yeah, well…” She trailed off, unable to find the words, but Somi simply grinned and leaned in slightly, her expression softening.

Without a word, Somi’s eyes glinted with mischief as she inhaled, catching the faint scent lingering on Yunjin’s clothes—a subtle hint of musk and release. She pulled back, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“I’m here for the same reason as you, I presume?” Somi teased, raising an eyebrow.

Yunjin’s face grew hotter, mortified that Somi could sense exactly what she’d been up to. She bit her lip, laughing nervously. “I… guess so,” she mumbled, managing a sheepish grin. “Didn’t think I’d… run into anyone I know here.”

Somi chuckled warmly, patting Yunjin’s shoulder with a playful smile. “Hey, we all need a place like this sometimes, right? No judgment.” She glanced back toward the hallways, her voice softening. “Anyway, I had a long day. I’ll see you around.”

Before Yunjin could respond, Somi turned and headed toward the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps fading into the quiet shadows of the hidden world they both shared. Yunjin watched her friend disappear, feeling a strange mix of relief, embarrassment, and an unexpected sense of camaraderie.

Left standing by the entrance, Yunjin took a steadying breath, her heartbeat gradually slowing. Tomorrow, she would return to her carefully crafted public life. But tonight, she carried the thrill of her private indulgence—and the quiet comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone in seeking a place to shed her public self, if only for a moment.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #le sserafim smut #huh yunjin #jennifer huh #yunjin #huh yunjin smut #yunjin smut #le sserafim #le sserafim huh yunjin #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin le sserafim

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

I’m Your Daddy Now

Day 6 → Daddy Kink 💋 Carlos Sainz

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Carlos steps out of the club, the air heavy with the distant thrum of bass. It’s Ibiza — sweltering, chaotic, suffocating.

He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead and stretches his neck, glancing back at the mess inside. VIP, the promise of space and status, had turned into a sardine can. No room to breathe, no air to think. Everyone’s clamoring for more — more drinks, more noise, more of each other. He needs a break.

Outside, it’s no less chaotic, but at least there’s air. The lights from the club cast strange shadows across the street, flashing in sync with the music that pulses through the walls. His shoulders drop a fraction, relaxing.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you.

You’re stumbling — no, swaying, more like it. The dress you’re in barely qualifies as clothing, clinging to your body, shimmering under the lights. He knows the look in your eyes too well, glazed over, the movements too slow, too disjointed. You’re too far gone. Drunk? High? Probably both.

Carlos watches for a second, maybe two, before his instincts kick in. His feet start moving, eyes narrowing, as if zoning in on you could fix you in place, prevent you from drifting any further into the chaos of the night.

When he’s close enough, he leans in just enough to catch your attention but not enough to startle. His voice is low, authoritative. “What would your daddy say if he saw you like this?”

You blink, unfocused. “Daddy?” Your laugh comes out broken, short. “Never had one. Wouldn’t know.”

Carlos straightens up, a frown flickering across his face. “You don’t have a daddy?” His tone is almost mocking, teasing. “Then I guess I’m your daddy now.”

You laugh again, stumbling forward, nearly toppling into him. “Yeah?” You slur. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Carlos doesn’t laugh. He hooks his arm under your waist, pulling you upright before you faceplant onto the cobblestones. Your body’s limp against him, your breath reeking of tequila or something even stronger.

He speaks, more to himself than to you. “You’re not staying here. Not like this.”

You mutter something, but the words dissolve into gibberish. Carlos shakes his head, feeling a strange knot twist in his chest. Something between concern and frustration.

Where are your friends? How did no one notice you slipping this far? His mind flashes back to earlier in the night — the crowd, the sea of faces. None of them would care, not really. Not if you didn’t show up tomorrow.

“Well,” Carlos says, more determined now. “I’m taking care of you.”

Without hesitation, he bends down, looping his arm under your knees and tossing you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp, but it quickly melts into incoherent mumbling as your head dangles, your arms limp.

“What? What are you-” you sputter, but your words are barely strung together.

Carlos adjusts you on his shoulder, firm but not rough. “Taking you home,” he replies, his voice steady, controlled. “Can’t leave you like this. Not a chance.”

As he walks, you start to squirm, but it’s weak. “No, no, no,” you mutter, but there’s no conviction in it. You’re too far gone to fight, too far gone to think straight.

Carlos ignores your weak protest, his stride never faltering. He knows what people might think if they saw him now, carrying you like this, but the crowd is oblivious, and he doesn’t care. His mind is set.

Reaching his car, Carlos shifts you in his arms, carefully lowering you into the passenger seat. He brushes your hair out of your face, taking in how disoriented you look. You’re barely holding on to consciousness, your head lolling back against the seat.

You glance at him, trying to focus. “Why?” You mumble, eyes half-closed. “Why are you ... doing this?”

Carlos pauses, his hand resting on the edge of the door. “Because no one else is,” he says simply, his voice firm, but there’s a softness beneath it, a quiet protectiveness. “You can’t take care of yourself right now. So, I will.”

You squint at him, as if trying to piece together what he’s saying, but it’s clear you’re losing the battle to stay awake. “Don’t ... need you,” you slur, though it lacks any bite.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, you don’t get to decide that tonight.” He shuts the passenger door with a solid thud, circling to the driver’s side.

As he starts the car, you slump further into the seat, murmuring something unintelligible. Carlos glances over at you every now and then, his grip on the wheel tight, jaw set. There’s a heavy silence between you two now, but it’s not uncomfortable — it��s just ... there.

You shift slightly, eyes half-open again. “Where’re we going?” You ask, your voice a quiet, broken whisper.

Carlos doesn’t look at you when he answers. “Someplace safe.” His voice is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of something else there — something resolute, something protective. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

You close your eyes again, too exhausted, too far gone to argue. Carlos drives in silence, the night stretching out in front of him, the lights of Ibiza flickering in the rearview mirror.

He doesn’t know what your story is, doesn’t know how you ended up in the state you’re in tonight, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t care. You’re his responsibility now, at least for tonight. And that’s enough for him.

Carlos glances over at you one last time as you drift off into a restless sleep, your breathing deepening. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind already set.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up in a safe place. Tomorrow, you’ll be sober, and maybe you’ll hate him for taking control when you couldn’t. But tonight? Tonight, you’re his to protect.

And he’s going to make damn sure you’re safe.

***

Carlos pulls up to his hotel, the valet glancing at the car before quickly looking away, recognizing the man behind the wheel. Without a word, Carlos steps out, walks around the car, and opens the passenger door.

You're still barely conscious, slumped against the seat. With an ease that speaks to both his strength and control, he lifts you out, cradling you against his chest as he strides toward the entrance.

The elevator ride is silent except for your shallow breathing. Carlos’ jaw is tight, his mind churning with a mix of concern and frustration. The numbers blink by, floor after floor, until finally, the doors open to the luxury suite. He walks inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet finality.

He sets you down on the plush couch, your body slumping into the cushions. You blink up at him, bleary-eyed, struggling to focus.

“Where ...” You start, but your voice trails off, weak.

Carlos stands over you, arms crossed, looking down with a mixture of disappointment and something deeper — something protective. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed tonight,” he says, his voice low, firm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You blink again, the words barely registering in your hazy mind. “I wasn’t ... I don’t know,” you mumble, trying to sit up, but your body doesn’t quite cooperate. “I’m fine.”

Carlos’ eyes narrow. “Fine? You can’t even sit up properly.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “You put yourself in danger. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

You don’t answer, your mind still foggy, but something in his tone makes your heart race. There’s an edge to his voice, a command that cuts through the haze.

Carlos steps closer, looming over you. “I can’t believe you’re just brushing this off.” His voice is sharper now, frustration lacing each word. “Do you have no idea how stupid that was?”

You shake your head, but it’s a feeble gesture. “Didn’t mean to ...” you mumble, not even sure what you’re apologizing for.

Carlos doesn’t let up. “You need to understand something.” He crouches down in front of you, his face close, his voice low and intense. “If you can’t take care of yourself, then I’ll have to do it for you. And clearly, you’ve proven tonight that you need someone to teach you better.”

You blink, your pulse quickening. There’s a tension in the air now, thick and heavy. Carlos stands again, his expression unreadable as he reaches down, taking your wrist in his hand and pulling you gently but firmly to your feet. You stumble slightly, but he steadies you, his grip unyielding.

“Come here,” he says, his voice softer now but still carrying that commanding edge.

You’re too dazed to resist as he leads you to the large armchair by the window, sitting down and pulling you across his lap in one swift motion. You let out a soft gasp, but the reality of the situation still isn’t sinking in.

Carlos’ hand presses against the small of your back, holding you in place as he speaks. “You need to apologize.”

“For what?” Your voice is small, unsure.

“For putting yourself in danger,” he says, his tone firm but controlled. “You need to understand how serious this is.”

Your heart races, the fog in your mind starting to clear just enough for you to realize what’s happening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, though the words feel hollow, automatic.

Carlos’ grip tightens slightly. “No, you’re not,” he says quietly. “Not yet. But you will be.”

Before you can process his words, his hand comes down against you, a sharp crack that makes you gasp. It’s not painful, not really, but the shock of it sends a jolt through your entire body.

“Count,” he commands, his voice steady, unyielding.

You hesitate, your breath hitching. “One.”

Another crack, this one sharper, more deliberate. Your body tenses against his lap.

“Two,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

Carlos doesn’t slow down. His hand comes down again and again, each time punctuated by your trembling voice counting the numbers aloud. By the time you reach five, your voice is barely a whisper, your body trembling with each strike. Tears prick at your eyes, but you force yourself to keep counting.

“Six ...” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek. “Seven ...”

Carlos’ movements are measured, controlled. He’s not being cruel, but there’s no mistaking the firmness in his actions, the lesson he’s intent on teaching.

By the time you reach ten, the tears are falling freely, your voice shaking with each apology. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, over and over again, the words barely coherent.

Carlos pauses then, his hand resting on your lower back as he watches you. “What are you sorry for?” He asks quietly.

“For ... for putting myself in danger,” you sob, your voice broken. “I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The words slip out without thinking, but Carlos doesn’t react immediately. He lets the silence hang between you for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on both of you.

Finally, he exhales, his hand moving in slow circles over your backside, soothing the sting he’s left behind. “Good,” he says quietly. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

You’re still trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks as you lie across his lap, your body limp with exhaustion and emotion. Carlos’ hand moves to your legs, gently lifting you off his lap and shifting you into his arms. He holds you against his chest, rocking you slightly, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, his voice softer, gentler. “I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, your tears soaking into his shirt, but you don’t care. All you can do is keep whispering the same words, over and over again. “I’m sorry, Daddy ... I’m so sorry ...”

Carlos’ hand continues to rub your back in slow, soothing circles, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “I know,” he says softly. “I know you are. But you have to be better. You can’t do this again.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I promise ... I won’t.”

Carlos pulls you tighter against him, his chin resting on top of your head as he continues to rock you gently. “Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing. “That’s my good girl.”

You stay like that for what feels like forever, wrapped in his arms, the weight of the night slowly melting away. And as your tears dry, and your breathing steadies, you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time — safe.

And you know, deep down, that Carlos isn’t just saying the words. He is your daddy now. And he’s going to make sure you never put yourself in harm’s way again.

***

The first light of morning filters through the heavy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Carlos shifts slightly, his back against the headboard, one arm wrapped protectively around you.

He hasn’t slept much. Not that it matters. He’s content, watching the way your chest rises and falls steadily, your body curled up against him, your face nuzzled into his side. You look so small there, tucked against him like you belong.

A soft sound breaks the silence — a quiet whimper that escapes your lips, almost inaudible, but it catches Carlos’ attention immediately. You shift slightly, your brows furrowing, and you whimper again, a breathless, needy sound.

Carlos tightens his arm around you, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “I’m right here,” he murmurs. “Shhh, cariño. I’ve got you.”

You press yourself closer to him in your sleep, your legs tangling with his as you move, your body instinctively seeking his warmth. Carlos watches you for a moment longer, his hand sliding down your side, his touch gentle and possessive all at once.

His hand moves lower, and he feels the heat of your skin beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. His fingers slide between your thighs, finding the soft bundle of nerves that’s already swollen and sensitive. He circles it slowly, deliberately, his touch light but insistent.

Your body reacts instantly, a soft moan slipping from your lips, your hips shifting against his hand. You’re still mostly asleep, hovering somewhere between dream and waking, but your body knows him, responds to him without hesitation.

Carlos leans down, his lips brushing your ear. “Wake up, princesa,” he coos softly, his voice low and tender. “You’re so close already, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

You stir, your eyes fluttering open, dazed and unfocused at first, your mind still catching up to what’s happening. But the sensation between your legs, the way Carlos’ fingers circle you so perfectly, pulls you fully into the moment.

A whimper escapes your lips, your hips bucking slightly against his hand. “Daddy …”

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his other hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you even closer to him. “Just enjoy, cariño. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breathing quickens, your body arching against him as his fingers work you over, slow and steady, bringing you right to the edge without pushing you over. It’s torture — sweet, aching torture — and you can’t stop the soft moans that spill from your lips, each one more desperate than the last.

“Please …” you breathe, your voice shaky, barely coherent.

Carlos hums softly in response, his thumb pressing down on your bundle in a way that makes your entire body tremble. “You want to come, don’t you?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper, full of dark, teasing promise.

You nod frantically, your hands clutching at his arm, your body moving on instinct now, your hips grinding against his hand. “Please, Daddy…”

A low, satisfied sound rumbles in Carlos’ chest, and he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs. “Let go for me. Let me take care of you.”

His fingers press harder, moving in slow, deliberate circles that send sparks of pleasure shooting through your entire body. You’re teetering on the edge, your mind foggy with need, and when his lips brush your ear again, whispering sweet encouragements, it’s enough to push you over.

You cry out, your body shuddering against him as the orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure that makes your head spin. Carlos doesn’t stop, his fingers working you through it, coaxing every last bit of release from you until you’re a trembling, breathless mess in his arms.

When it’s over, your body goes limp, slumping against him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Carlos’ hand moves to stroke your hair, his touch gentle now, soothing.

“There you go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s my girl. You did so well for me.”

You can barely respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release. But you manage a soft, broken “Thank you, Daddy,” as you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes fluttering shut again, exhaustion overtaking you.

Carlos holds you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you drift back to sleep. His mind is quiet now, the frustration from the night before gone, replaced by something softer, something more possessive. You’re his now. And he’ll make sure you never forget that.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he whispers, his lips brushing your hair. “I promise.”

***

The air in the room is warm, filled with the soft hum of the city outside the window. Carlos stands by the floor-to-ceiling glass, one hand resting against the frame, watching the traffic below. The months have slipped by in a blur of race weekends, private jets, and the quiet moments in between where he has you.

Always there. Always close. Just how he likes it.

He glances over his shoulder at you, sitting on the edge of the bed, legs folded underneath you, your soft gaze fixed on him. There’s something about the way you look at him now, like he’s the only thing in your world that matters. You’ve grown so used to his presence, so accustomed to his touch and his commands, that it’s like second nature to you. It pleases him, the way you’ve fallen so easily into this role.

But tonight, there’s something else on his mind. A question that’s been nagging at him. How far under his control have you really fallen? How deeply has he embedded himself into your mind, into your very being?

Carlos turns from the window and walks toward the bed, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. But there’s none. You look up at him, your expression open, expectant, as if waiting for whatever he’s about to say or do next.

He sits down beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. For a moment, he just looks at you, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. There’s something intimate about the silence between you, the unspoken understanding that has developed over time. But tonight, he’s going to push a little further. See just how far he’s brought you.

“Come here,” he says softly, patting his lap.

You move instantly, like it’s instinct now, settling into his lap, your head resting against his chest. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you close. For a moment, he simply holds you, letting the quiet stretch out between you both.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me these last few months,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Haven’t you?”

You nod against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, the words so automatic now, so ingrained in your mind.

Carlos smiles at the sound, that familiar name falling from your lips like it’s the only one you’ve ever known for him. And that’s exactly what he wants to test.

He tilts your chin up with his finger, forcing you to look at him. “Do you know how good you’ve been for me?” He asks, his voice low, almost teasing. “So good that I’m starting to wonder … if you even remember anything before me.”

You blink, confusion flickering in your eyes for a brief second. “What do you mean?”

Carlos smiles again, this time with more purpose. He strokes your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a touch that’s both gentle and possessive.

“What’s my name?” He asks quietly, the question dropping into the space between you like a stone into still water.

You blink again, and Carlos watches the subtle shift in your expression. You hesitate, just for a second, like the question doesn’t quite register with you. And then, your lips part, the softest sound coming out.

“Daddy.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “No, no. I mean, my real name. What’s my name?”

The confusion deepens in your eyes, and you shift slightly in his lap, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt as if searching for some anchor. Your brows furrow, and you bite your lip, trying to think. But the answer doesn’t come as quickly as you’d expect.

“Daddy,” you repeat, your voice a little more uncertain now, like you’re not quite sure if that’s the right answer, but it’s the only one you have.

Carlos hums thoughtfully, his fingers tracing slow circles on your hip. “Are you telling me you’ve forgotten my name?” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s an edge of control there, a test of how deep his hold on you really is.

Your eyes search his, desperate for some clue, but all you find is that same patient, knowing smile. Your heart races, your mind suddenly blank. “I … I don’t …” you stammer, your voice trembling slightly.

Carlos’ hand moves to your hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands as he tilts your head back a little more, forcing you to hold his gaze. “Say my name,” he commands softly.

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling, but the only name that comes to your lips is the one you’ve been calling him for months. “Daddy.”

Carlos’ smile deepens, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he leans closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “That’s the only name you know, isn’t it?” He whispers, his voice dark and velvety, filled with satisfaction.

You nod slowly, the realization dawning on you that you can’t remember ever calling him anything else. That name — his real name — it’s there, somewhere in the back of your mind, but it feels so distant, so unimportant compared to the one you’ve grown so used to. The one that feels right.

“Good girl,” Carlos murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so far gone, aren’t you? You don’t even need to remember my name anymore.”

You shiver in his lap, a mix of fear and something else — something deeper, more vulnerable — filling you as his words sink in. The way he looks at you now, like he’s proud of how far you’ve fallen under his control, makes your heart race.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, though you’re not even sure why. It just feels like the right thing to say.

Carlos chuckles softly, his hand sliding down your back, holding you tighter against him. “Sorry for what, cariño?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone.

“For … for forgetting,” you say, your voice small, your fingers clinging to his shirt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says, his voice gentle now, soothing. “You’ve done exactly what I wanted. You belong to me. And from now on, the only name you’ll ever need to remember is Daddy.”

You nod against his chest, your body relaxing into his hold, the tension slowly fading as his words sink in. He strokes your hair, his touch comforting, reassuring.

“I’ll always take care of you,” Carlos whispers, his lips brushing your forehead. “You don’t need to worry about anything else. Just stay here, with me, and I’ll make sure you’re always safe.”

You breathe in deeply, your body going limp in his arms, the last remnants of doubt fading away. “I will,” you whisper back, your voice soft but certain. “I’ll stay with you, Daddy.”

Carlos smiles, satisfied with your response, his fingers trailing slowly down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence once again, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside and your steady breathing as you rest against him. Carlos holds you close, his hand stroking your back, his mind still turning over everything that’s happened.

He knew you were his. He knew you’d fallen completely under his control. But hearing it now — seeing the way you can’t even remember his real name — fills him with a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t expected. You’re his, fully and completely, and there’s no going back.

“It’s a good thing,” Carlos says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re mine. And you’ll never need to worry about anything else.”

You nod against his chest, your body relaxing even more, your trust in him absolute. “I’m yours, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft and full of quiet devotion.

Carlos smiles, his hand continuing to stroke your hair as he holds you close. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride. “Always mine.”

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thenotsofantasticlifestory · 4 months ago

Text

GN! Reader x Law

Law gets wasted and he's an affectionate mess

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was rare indeed, to see Law truly let loose.

Maybe it was the recent victory over Kaido that he’d been stressing for God knows how long, or maybe it was just the general good atmosphere of all their crews around them drinking happily and socializing that made him loosen up. Regardless, you were surprised for when the first time, Law was very drunk.

You had had a few drinks but were still clear headed enough, laying your head on Law’s shoulder as the others rejoiced around you. Law immediately grasped your hand under the table, fingers eagerly rubbing against yours and you were surprised at his openness. Law was usually very conservative about his affection, worrying about whether anyone saw, especially his own crew. In the rare instances they did witness a soft moment, Law had the habit of pulling his hat low over his red face and storming off before they could say anything. You couldn’t lie though, seeing Law a little more open and daring sent a warmth through you.

He rested his head atop yours on his shoulder, cuddling in close and you were aware of the catcalls that followed the action. You didn’t care, you were too lost feeling his strong body against you. It felt like it had been far too long since you two were able to cuddle and touch like this.

Penguin shouted forth, “Give them a kiss!”

And soon other members of the crew had joined the chant, and you felt your face heat up. You two were always conservative in front of others, but to your shock, Law grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a smashing of lips together, but it was enough to make your face light up. You could hear the cheers in the background as you pulled back, a hand to your mouth as Law stared back at you with heavy lidded eyes.

He tried to press into your face again but your own awareness of the crew around you made you embarrassed and you quickly redirected him to rest against the crook of your neck. The others couldn’t see now but you were aware of the hot open-mouthed kisses and laving of tongue that Law was pressing against the skin of your neck and you put a hand to the back of his head to block any curious onlookers as your tried, unsuccessfully, to discreetly pry him off. His hands groped at your sides as his face pulled back to stare heavily at you.

“Let’s say we take this somewhere more private?” he purred against you. You were about to stand when Law pulled his hand up in a familiar gesture and blue light circled the room.

“Shambles”

You braced yourself, expecting to find yourself now in the captain’s quarters but when you opened your eyes nothing had changed, you were both still sitting amongst the party.

“Fuck!”

You saw Shachi sputtering with beer dripping down his naked head, apparently Law had switched his hat with someone’s drink.

The captain narrowed his eyes in focus, now realizing what he’d done, “Wait shit let me try that again.”

Another flash of blue and this time Bepo ended up on the table where a bowl of chips had previously been. His flailing had sent several glasses and food spilling across the table as the others voiced their displeasure at the poor bear.

“I’m sorry!” he managed to get himself back on the floor with the others, Ikkaku slapping his back and laughing.

Law stared at his hand now, as though looking at a faulty gadget, and readied his fingers again before you clapped your hands over his own to stop him from causing any more chaos.

“How about we just sit here okay baby?”

The pet name seemed to work as he dissolved into a silly smile, and you bit back a laugh at how adorable he looked. His face fell forward and planted against you in another messy smash of lips.

“Mmkay,” you could feel him mumble against your mouth. You pulled his head back, keeping it cradled in your hands, looking around to see if anyone had seen the second kiss, but most were still ribbing Bepo good naturedly for nearly breaking the table supplying him with beer all the while. You settled back in your seat, raising the drink to your lips and felt Law drop his head onto your shoulder. Giving his scalp an affectionate rub, you drank and talked with the others, regaling them with details of your fights as they supplied their own stories in return. All the while Law kept his head silently planted against you, and you could feel his eyes boring into you the entire time. Penguin finally snickered and nudged Shachi in the ribs.

“Look at captain.”

The two dissolved into giggles seeing Law staring puppy eyed up into your eyes, a hopeless grin on his face. You finally met his gaze and couldn’t suppress the smile that crawled up your lips.

“Law you’re staring at me.”

He hummed in response, nuzzling his cheek against you, eyes never leaving you, “You’re so pretty you know that?” he slurred.

His fingers came up to trace along your features, fumbling a bit at first before resting on your cheek, “Such perfect anatomical structure…”

You could hear Penguin and Shachi practically choke with laughter.

“Thank you…?” You couldn’t help smiling at the silliness of your boyfriend.

Law hummed, he lifted his head and took your face between his hands, gently squishing your cheeks, “How did I get such a beautiful partner?”

Penguin and Shachi were now in full throes of laughter. Your eyes shot from them back to Law, with a silly grin plastered on his face. Your hands clasped his gently to remove them from your cheeks, fighting the blush that was spreading across your face.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” you murmured.

Law held your gaze, eyes boring deep into yours until suddenly his head fell forward, planting right into your chest, hands wrapped around you tightly. It only took seconds until you heard soft snores coming from him.

You sighed, “Okay, I think it’s time for bed.”

Catcalls followed the comment as you slowly helped Law to his feet, his body leaning heavily against you all the while. Once you got him upright, his face dug into the crook of your neck, nuzzling the skin as his hands played across your waist. More catcalls followed at the captain’s actions and you felt yourself flush. You quickly got his arm around your shoulder, letting him lean against you as you walked him back to his private quarters. After nearly stumbling through the hallway you managed to get inside the room with Law in one piece. You let go of his body, left him standing for a moment as you started pulling back the sheets and covers of the bed.

“Okay Law, come here,” you slapped the mattress.

Law apparently took this to mean something else entirely, his eyes darkening with a sly smile across his face as he staggered forward. He nearly tripped over himself but you caught him in your arms as he straightened out.

“You come here,” he growled in what he must have thought was a seductive tone closing the distance between you. His hands explored up and down your sides as his lips met yours once more, pressing firmly. Law was leaning with most of his weight against you and you quickly maneuvered the two of you toward the bed, thumping onto the mattress with an audible creak. Law quickly crawled up into your lap, hands planting on either side of your head as he reconnected lips, tongue quickly working its way into your mouth. You were wide eyed for a moment, but fell easily into the kiss, sloppy as it was, your own hands trailing up and down his back.

Breaking from the kiss, Law’s flushed face practically rubbing against your own he murmured in a slur, “God you don’t even know how sexy you are…” His face dug into the crook of your neck, placing wet suckling kisses against your skin, “I just think about you all the time…”

You smiled, guiding Laws head back up to face you, a wonderfully content smile on his face as you placed a peck against his lips.

“You’re awfully affectionate when you’re drunk.”

His sappy grin widened, “I can’t help myself around you.”

Suddenly Law flopped onto the bed, turning to rest on his back as he reached his arms out for you to join. You sighed, pulling off your shoes and Law’s own before nestling against him. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face against your hair as you settled together with a contented sigh.

“You know you’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow,” you teased, and at the silence that followed you asked, “Law?”

You raised her head only to see him already snoring away and chuckled. Resting your head back against his slowly rising chest you closed your eyes to sleep.

“Sweet dreams Law.”

#mywriting #trafalgar law #op #one piece #penguin #heart pirates #shachi #ikkaku #bepo #fanfiction #law x reader #gn!reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader

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pookalicious-hq · 11 days ago

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blue velvet... jinx x reader

| 0.1. wrecking ball | next | masterlist

synopsis: two girls trapped within a world full of hate would do anything for eachother. too bad they're both crazy. tags/tws: mentions of mental health illnesses, mention of suicide, blood and gore, mc has split personalities word count: 1.7k

To the people of Piltover, you were a storm devil, a dark figure wielding unnatural power and chaos. In Zaun, though, they sang a different tune. There, you were their angel of death, a symbol of protection—or a promise of impending ruin. Your name meant salvation to some, doom to others. And depending on who you asked, it marked either a savior or a death sentence.

The billowing smog swirled around you, outlining your feathered wings like a ghostly shadow against the vibrant glow of Zaun’s undercity. This was no gentle welcome—the air was thick, saturated with oil, smoke, and the sharp bite of chemicals that burned your nostrils. It clung to your skin, coating everything in a fine, greasy layer. Eyes were on you already, peering from fractured pipes and shadowed alleyways, watching your every move.

The streets stretched before you, cracked cobblestones that seemed to pulse with a life both unsettling and invigorating. It felt as if the city itself was breathing—exhaling dust, shimmer, and a constant undercurrent of danger. Each step you took sent faint crackles of electricity tingling across your fingertips, the remnants of tonight’s mission still simmering through your veins.

Your wings, usually sharp and sure, were now folded tightly against your back, their feathers singed and dulled from the exertion. As you passed, people cast wary glances your way—some with awe, others with suspicion. Silco’s orders lingered in your mind like a bitter taste, a reminder of the duty that had brought you here.

You took a steadying breath, feeling the sharp current of electricity crackling through your body. Each pulse felt like an unbearable mixture of pain and power, the dark remnants of Silco’s relentless trials etched into your bones. Even now, the energy surged restlessly beneath your skin, reminding you of everything you’d endured to become his weapon.

You clenched your fists, grounding yourself against the power that begged to be released. This wasn’t the time to draw attention, though every instinct inside you screamed to let the storm loose. For now, restraint was your duty, and unruliness would be your downfall.

The smog of Zaun barely settled in your lungs when a sudden pop split the air, followed by a burst of glitter that exploded in front of you. It coated your face, your wings, and the grime-caked cobblestones beneath your feet. The sparkling mist shimmered mockingly under the dim neon lights of the undercity.

You froze, coughing as the glitter bomb went off, its sharp, chemical taste lingering in the back of your throat. You flapped your wings to dispel the cloud, the gritty particles sticking to your feathers. “Holy shit—”

“Birdie!” Jinx’s gleeful voice rang out, her silhouette dropping down from a pipe above. A wide, mischievous grin stretched across her face, pink smoke trailing from her latest concoction, the scent of sulfur heavy in the air behind her. “Gotcha good, huh? You were so focused on being grumpy, didn’t even see me coming.”

Your heart was still racing, the burst of noise and color stirring every survival instinct within you. A spark of electricity jumped from your fingertips, lashing out reflexively. It wasn’t deliberate, just the aftershock of the moment. The faint crackle of power hit Jinx square in the shoulder, and she yelped, staggering back, though the sound quickly dissolved into giggles.

“Woah!” she gasped, blinking in surprise, then patting the singed edge of her sleeve. The gleam in her eyes sharpened, her smirk widening. “Do that again!”

“What?” you sputtered, still coughing out glitter, the sharp metallic taste lingering on your tongue. “No, I’m not—Jay! Are you insane?”

She tilted her head, her grin crooked and knowing, the flickering neon lights casting shadows on her face. “You know, people say that a lot about us,” she teased, her voice light but laced with something sharper beneath it. A shared understanding hummed in the air, like the crackling static that clung to your skin.

You couldn’t help but laugh—a dry, unsteady sound, still choked with the taste of glitter and the pulse of raw power in your veins. She mirrored you, that familiar, wild energy swirling between the two of you, filling the space with a chaotic kind of warmth.

Her fingers reached out, brushing through the faint static still buzzing in the air around you. The tingling sensation ran along your nerves, a constant reminder of the force contained within you.

“C’mon,” she pressed, her voice low and coaxing, the coolness of the alley around you suddenly feeling a little too close. “Just a little zap? You know it’s cool.”

You shot her an exasperated look, swiping at the glitter stuck to your cheeks, the gritty particles scraping against your skin. With a resigned sigh, you muttered, “Absolutely not. And stop throwing glitter bombs at me—it’s stuck everywhere now.” The metallic scent still clung to the air, mixing with the heavy smog that seemed to saturate every corner of the undercity.

“Everywhere?” she echoed, a mischievous smirk pulling at her lips, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark. The playful challenge in her voice was undeniable, but you knew it was just another one of her stupid jokes. You stared back at her, unimpressed, brushing your hands against your jacket as though to rid yourself of the last traces of glitter.

She crossed her arms, tapping a foot against the cracked pavement, the rhythmic tapping contrasting sharply with her casual tone. “Whatever. Glitter’s classy. You look like... like a hot and deadly, sparkly peacock.” The words danced in the air, teasing the edges of your irritation but lightening the mood just enough to keep it from escalating.

You shot her a glare. “Shut up, if anyone’s a peacock, it’s you.”

Jinx just laughed, skipping up beside you as you resumed walking. Her pace slowed when she saw where you were heading—back to Silco’s headquarters.

Her usual chatter quieted, and her grin faltered for just a moment before she slapped it back on. “So... uh, you sure we gotta go back right now? I mean, we could hang somewhere, grab a drink, blow something up—”

The slight tremor in her voice gave her away, betraying the calm she was trying to maintain. You paused mid-step, the gritty pavement shifting under your boots as you glanced down at her. “Jinx.”

“What?” she snapped, too quickly, her voice tight, like she was trying to cover something up. “I didn’t say anything. Why are your eyes all scrunched up? That’s gonna give you wrinkles, y’know?”

You frowned, sensing the lie beneath her deflection. The faint bruise near her temple caught the low, flickering light, deep purple against her pale skin, and it twisted something inside you. The way she scratched at her wrist, tugging her sleeve down almost defensively, made your stomach churn.

Without another word, you crouched, bending slightly to open your arms. You felt the faint crackle of static tingling along your skin as your wings shifted behind you. “Come here.”

Her brows furrowed, confused, but the hesitation in her eyes said everything. “What are you—”

“Jay,” you said again, softer this time, the tenderness in your voice breaking through the exhaustion you carried. “Come on.”

It took a moment, but the stubbornness faded, and she stepped into your embrace. The warmth of her body against yours made the cold grip of the city seem distant. Her head dropped against your shoulder, and though she didn’t cry—Jinx rarely did without the comfort of four walls surrounding her—you could feel her body relax, tension leaking away in small, silent waves.

The silence settled between you, the low hum of Zaun’s distant noise—smoke-streaked lights, the hum of machinery—filling the quiet. You didn’t need to say anything more. She had already said it all with her quiet surrender.

“Hold on,” you whispered, and your wings unfolded behind you, the air rushing against your skin as you stretched them wide.

“What are you—holy shit!” she yelped, her fingers gripping your jacket as you lifted off the ground. The sudden rush of wind swirled around you, the city stretching beneath you like a vast, dark labyrinth of neon lights and smoke. You could feel the electricity crackling at the tips of your wings, the air charged with your unstable power as you shot upward.

Jinx clung to you instinctively, her bravado fading away with the city’s dizzying height. Her breath was warm against your neck, rapid and sharp, as the familiar streets blurred beneath you. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if willing the world to slow down.

You didn’t go far, just high enough to leave the alleys behind, heading for a quieter rooftop on the outskirts. The cool air hit you once you landed, the scent of rust from the old water tank mingling with the smoky haze that clung to everything. The roof was sparse—just an old, rusted water tank and a few scattered crates—but it was quiet. Safe.

You set her down carefully, your wings folding back behind you with a soft flutter. The ground beneath your feet was solid, a welcome contrast to the dizzying heights you’d just left behind.

Jinx stared out across the city, her eyes narrowed in that sharp, calculating way she often had, but there was something different in her gaze now—a vulnerability, quiet but clear. Something unspoken hung between you, but for once, you didn’t need to voice it. You both knew the weight of the world you carried, even if you didn’t always acknowledge it.

The night stretched out before you, dark and endless, as you stood together—two figures on the edge of Zaun, floating in the same currents, bound by something far deeper than the chaos of the world.

a/n: so this is the start of my jinx x reader series!! i hope you like it, we're starting at around 17 years old for both jinx and mc,,, then after w few chaps we're gonna go into season 1 arc and eventually season 2. mwahhh

taglist: @stupendousbananasharkcop

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist loves <3

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #powder arcane #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #jinx arcane

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scarlet-star-witch · 4 months ago

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The shackles of duty

Summary: In the aftermath of Aegon's fall in the Battle of Rook's Rest, Aemond envisions his future as King with his Queen at his side

Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and in a secret relationship with Aemond

Part 2 to His Sacrifice

WC: 2.2 K

Warnings: Implied smut, possessive Aemond, kinda dark Aemond, but not really, he's more pathetic than anything

Aemond stared at the plumes of smoke that billowed from where his brother and his dragon had fallen.

His heart still raced with satisfaction, the adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him in an almost high-like state he never wanted to come down from. His victorious smirk remained as he turned to the woman beside him who stared at the smoke with a conflicted expression.

“With any luck, Aegon has perished, or at least will in due time.”

She looked to Aemond, the furrow in her brow deep, betraying her indecision and unease.

She always knew what Aemond was capable of, she knew of the darkness within him, but to see it now, displayed so blatant before her very eyes, shook something within her, something she didn’t know she could feel towards the man she had loved for so long.

Aemond grabbed her hands, holding them in his tightly as he turned to face her fully.

“We can go back to King’s Landing. With Aegon’s state, I will be named Regent. I will sit the throne and you will be my Queen.”

“What?” She breathed out, the only word she’d been able to speak in the past few minutes.

“Aegon is not long for this world, surely. It won't be long until I become King. No one can deny us anything now. We can marry, you can stay with me by my side, we can rule together.” Aemond spoke with a franticness that was so unlike him, it unsettled her more than the gleam of desire in his eye in that moment.

“Aemond…”

“We can finally be together.” He reminded her as his hand reached out to grasp her cheek affectionately, the longing he displayed tearing her insides, as if she were being pulled in two radically different directions.

She watched him for a long moment, savoring the sight of that beautiful face she’d spent the past few years memorizing, every perfect dip and curve that never failed to leave her breathless, and emotion swelled as she realized she’d have to break his heart.

“I can’t go with you.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow, as if saying it quietly would mean it wouldn’t completely destroy him.

His lip twitched, his smile fading slowly as he took in her words, praying he had misheard her. His grip on her hands tightened, as if he could keep her with him, as if he could forever stop her from leaving his side.

“But…”

“Aemond, you know I cannot go with you. No one will accept-”

“Fuck what they think! You are mine and the second I sit on that throne I can make it so. No one could stop us.”

She shook her head and moved to pull away, but he didn’t let her, his hand sturdy in hers, a look of heartbreak on his face as he felt her hesitation.

“We are at war, Aemond. Our marriage will not solve anything, it won’t miraculously dissolve what is happening in our family, it will only create more chaos.”

“I don’t care.” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped towards her, his hands now cradling her face. “I don’t give a shit about this war, you are all I want.”

She sniffled, bowing her head to avoid looking into his eye. It was too painful to see how she was hurting him.

“Think about what you are asking of me.”

“I am asking you to be with me.”

“You are asking me to abandon my mother!” She yelled.

His chest ached, the rush he’d been thriving on suddenly turning to despair as he looked at her, realizing he wouldn’t soon have her in his arms as he had hoped.

“We can fix this.” He spoke with reverence, but it did little to soothe the storm within her.

“Maybe we could have… but that was before- before Lucerys.”

Aemond flinched, recoiling as if she had delivered a physical blow.

“You know my regret for what happened. You know I would have never willingly jeopardize-”

“I know, I know.” She whispered tearfully, her hands moving up to grip at his wrists, feeling his pulse race beneath her touch.

She remembered the night after learning of her brother’s death as she met Aemond on their Island, how he immediately fell to his knees in forgiveness, how he let her scream and cry and rage at him, how they held each other as they cried, knowing the state of their family had broken beyond repair, ruining what little chance they thought they had to one day be together as they wanted.

She wiped her tears and with one last gentle caress to his hands, pulled them away from her, taking a step backwards before he could reach out to her once more.

“I have to go.”

With every step she took away from him, he took a step closer, his face shifting each time she moved, his frown growing deeper and deeper as it abruptly dawned on him that he was about to lose her, yet again.

“Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, the sight of him blurring as tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and didn’t look back as she climbed upon Vermithor, ignoring the pit that grew in her stomach, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that screamed at her to stay with him.

She didn’t dare spare him a look. She knew she’d cave if she did, that she would fall back into his arms and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

She wiped her tears as she flew, ignoring the pull she felt to her other half as the distance between them grew greater.

A yell of pure rage escaped him as he flipped the table in his room. He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, throwing any and every object he found across the room, destroying everything in his line of sight.

His bed was in disarray, the tapestries that lined the walls torn to pieces at his feet, candles knocked to the ground, trinkets shattered into nothing but dust as he raged.

He only stopped when there was nothing left to ruin.

His chest heaved with exertion as he let himself slump against his bed, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for breath, forcing himself not to let his tears fall.

His mind raced with her words, each like a dagger to the heart, each one tearing away a piece of him, leaving him unwhole and untethered to the one thing in the world he cared about.

Nothing made sense without her. It had only been hours and he was already spiraling.

Simply picturing her beautiful face caused his chest to ache, as if the dagger of her words had been real, causing him to bleed and fade away until there was nothing left of him.

He could not let this be the end.

With a half-formed plan in his mind, he stood with haste and reached for his cloak, ensuring the hood covered his head and stepped out of his room, his steps quick and purposeful.

He would not let her slip away from him again.

Her mind was racing, keeping her from her much needed sleep. She couldn’t stop picturing Aemond’s face, the pain she had caused him stirring her own.

She couldn’t ignore the regret that overtook every inch of her. While she loved her mother and longed to see her as Queen, she couldn’t deny that Aemond had stitched himself within the fabric of her, he was now a part of her she couldn’t ignore.

She didn’t quite know when it happened, all she knew was that it was too late to go back now, too late to pretend she felt nothing for him. She couldn’t move forward without him.

She had to see him.

She hissed a curse and tore the covers off, getting to her feet and dressing in her riding leathers quickly, acknowledging the stupidity of her plan, but steadily ignoring it.

It was easy to sneak out of the castle. She’d been doing it for years now, she could do it with her eyes closed.

It took little time to get Vermithor in the air and on the course for King’s Landing, her heart in her throat as she flew. She didn’t know what awaited her, what danger she would be placing upon her head, all she knew was that once there, Aemond would never let any harm befall her.

It was the only assurance she needed to drive forward into enemy territory.

Suddenly, the bellowing roar of a dragon sounded over the din of the wind.

She startled and narrowed her eyes, the moon providing light for her to see, but as the hulking figure of the dragon coming before her became clear, she soon realized, her eyes widening as she stared back at Vhagar.

A breathless laugh escaped her, pure relief overtaking her as she realized Aemond was in the same state she found herself in, unable to settle for their circumstance.

She pulled at the reins, directing Vermithor to descend, heading towards their Island with Aemond following seconds behind.

The two mighty dragons landed and their riders met each other's gaze, the both of them taking a moment to simply admire each other, their shared smiles of equal relief and awe that they had had the same thought, the same longing to see each other.

Her hands almost shook with anticipation as she untied herself from the saddle.

She felt nervous, as if it were their first meeting in secret, as she approached him, but her reservations didn’t last as Aemond stepped towards her quickly, with no hesitation.

A shaking breath escaped her as she was pulled into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered weakly, her voice strained as her throat tightened, overwhelmed to be back in his loving arms.

He shook his head and held to her tighter, softly whispering his relief to see her again

Time was lost to them as they embraced, as they held each other as only lovers could.

“I don’t know what will happen next.” She mumbled, hating to break the moment with their reality, but it wasn’t something they could ignore for much longer.

“I don’t either.” He admitted quietly. “But what I do know is that, whatever I do, it will not be without you. I don’t care how many times I will have to chase you down and bring you back to me, I won’t lose you.”

“You won’t have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His exhale of relief was loud and she barely had time to apologize again before he was kissing her firmly, leaving them both breathless and lightheaded with desire.

His touch was desperate as he laid her down in the dewey grass. It was familiar to them, these fleeting and frantic touches all they could spare in the war that ravaged their families.

He took her with an intensity as if it had been years since he’d felt her touch and not mere days as it had been. She felt more loved than ever before as he lavished his praise onto her, as his lips caressed every inch of her, as he made love to her with the burning passion as only a man in love could.

Their cries of pleasure echoed on the desolate Island, their secret remaining shrouded in darkness and isolation.

As he spilled his seed within her, his call of her name sending shivers down the length of her body, she held him tightly, wishing she could hold onto him forever, wishing she didn’t have to leave his side time and time again.

He wasn’t quick to part from her, laying over her, his hands still eager to touch her, to remember the curves of her body in fear that it would be the last time.

But they would never let it be the last, not as long as they still breathed life.

He left her side with a promise to see her the next night.

There was no mention of the throne, of titles or battles. It didn’t exist in their time together, the both of them determined to blissfully ignore the reality that was slowly crushing them, slowly pulling them further and further apart, no matter how hard they tried to fight it.

He lingered in her mind as she woke alone but sated, the phantom bliss of his touch, bringing a smile to her lips in the early morning. She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, feel the pleasurable burn of the marks he had left on her body.

She smiled politely as her maid entered, placing breakfast down for her.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Princess?”

Moon tea.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She trusted her handmaiden, she’d never given her a sideways glance over the past years when she requested the drink. Her mother was still blissfully unaware, which meant her maid was at least keeping her secret.

Yet the words didn’t come, a decision made in a fraction of a second.

“No, thank you. That is all.”

As her maid left, her hand drifted to her stomach, a smile forming on her lips as she wondered what their child would look like.

Hope you enjoyed! I have more Aemond content coming! I literally have a thousand ideas for this beautiful man, so stay tuned xx

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen fanfic

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simplyraeblue · 3 months ago

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first times (shoto todoroki x reader)

ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP femreader x virginshoto you've had a crush on your friend shoto for a long time, and unbeknownst to you he's been crushing as well. not only that, he wants you to be his first time; for everything WARNINGS: swearing, smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (m receiving) •◡ ◠ word count: 3,380 A/N: this will be a 3-4 part story, with each chapter building up in smut levels

part one | part two | part three |

part four | part five

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as the night wound down and the loud laughter and clamor of dares faded into memory, the mess left by the boys was evident throughout your apartment. empty cups, discarded snack wrappers, and other remnants of the evening’s chaos littered the living room. one by one, your friends trickled out, their departure marked by sloppy goodbyes and promises to clean up later.

Shoto was the last to leave, but instead of heading home, he stayed behind to help you tidy up. the two of you worked in comfortable silence, picking up the trash and putting things back in their places.

as you were clearing the last of the cups that Kirishima and Kaminari had strewn across the coffee table, Shoto's voice broke the silence. “we didn’t finish our seven minutes,” he said suddenly, causing you to pause and turn to him.

you gave a small, tired laugh. “technically, we did. we went well over the seven minutes, in fact.” you resumed picking up the cups. silently grateful that Bakugo had been persuaded to drive Kirishima and Kaminari home.

Shoto, now standing next to you with a thoughtful expression, asked, “truth or dare?”

you put down the trash bag you were holding and placed your hands on your hips. “truth.”

“did you enjoy our kiss?” Shoto’s eyes were earnest as he awaited your response.

“yes,” you replied, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” Shoto said.

“did you enjoy our kiss, Shoto?” you asked, returning his earnest gaze.

“yes,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” you said again.

Shoto almost pouted. “no, pick dare. i have something in mind already, and you picking truth won’t work.”

you chuckled at his display of frustration. “alright, fine. i’ll switch to dare.”

“i dare you to let me kiss you again,” Shoto said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. the weight that had settled on his chest since earlier in your room seemed to lift with his confession. throughout the evening, as he chose dare each time on the off chance he could kiss you again, he had participated in various childish dares with this one goal in mind.

Shoto didn’t give you a chance to respond; instead, he gently cupped your face in his hands and pulled you closer. the sudden proximity made your breath catch in your throat, and your heart raced with a thrilling mix of anticipation and nervousness. as Shoto leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and longing that made you wish you could dissolve into his embrace.

with a growing sense of confidence, Shoto guided you backward towards the couch, his lips never leaving yours. he maneuvered you both down onto the cushions, the kiss deepening as he settled beside you. this was a moment he had yearned for over a year, each time you worked together as pro heroes, his feelings only intensifying. he was determined to savor every second of this long-awaited connection.

for you, the kiss felt like a puzzle finally coming together. it encapsulated everything you had felt from the moment you first recognized your crush on him, to the countless times you had called Mina, gushing about his small gestures and acts of kindness. now, it had culminated in this perfect, intimate kiss.

the kiss was tender and gentle, embodying everything you had hoped for. Shoto’s touch was delicate, as if he were handling something incredibly precious. his lips moved against yours with a natural grace, fitting together like they were made specifically for this moment.

after a few blissful seconds, Shoto pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. you slowly opened your eyes to meet his gaze, and he could feel his heart swelling with affection. the warmth in your eyes told him that you saw him as more than just a hero, more than just Endeavor’s son.

“so,” Shoto said, his voice soft but filled with curiosity, “when you talked about the bases earlier, you left one out.”

you felt a deep blush spread across your cheeks as you realized what he was hinting at. “home base, right?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “i left it out because it’s... a significant step. it means going all the way with someone.”

“making love,” Shoto said, his tone thoughtful.

“yes, making love,” you confirmed, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. the way he spoke the words made the whole concept feel even more profound and intimate. it wasn’t fucking, or having sex, it was making love in his eyes.

“how would that go?” Shoto asked, his question causing a warm flush to spread across your body. the thought of the next step made your heart race.

“well,” you began, your voice wavering slightly as you fidgeted with your hands in your lap, “it would start with what we’re doing now, this closeness and intimacy. then, it would naturally progress to... more intimate things, like touching each other in more private places.”

Shoto’s eyes darkened with an intense, sincere gaze as he said, “i would like to touch you elsewhere.” the boldness of his statement made your heart leap into your throat. did he fully understand the implications of what he was suggesting?

“we can take things slowly, if that’s what you really want,” you offered, trying to steady your voice and manage your racing thoughts.

“i’ve received plenty of advice from the guys,” Shoto said, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

you chuckled softly, shaking your head at the absurdity of it. “okay, maybe don’t take all the advice those guys give you too seriously. they can be a bit... over the top.”

Shoto’s earnest expression did not waver. “are you being serious about this?” you asked, wanting to be absolutely certain.

he nodded; his gaze unwavering as he looked at you with deep sincerity. you couldn’t help but smile softly at him. “and you... want your first time, for everything, to be with me? not someone else you might consider more special?”

“no one is more special to me than you,” Shoto replied earnestly, his heart pounding in his chest. he had discussed all the right questions with Midoriya, seeking advice on how to recognize true feelings and when the time was right. once he had his answers, he knew deep down that there was no one else he wanted to share these moments with. for him, you were everything.

you drew in a deep breath, your cheeks flushed with the weight of his confession, the seriousness of the moment settling over you. "come with me," you said, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions. gently, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. with a purposeful but tender grip, you guided him away from the couch and towards the bedroom.

once inside, you led him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he complied, his expression attentive and earnest. you took a moment to gather your thoughts, then spoke, your voice firm but reassuring. "i want to set some ground rules before we go any further. i’m going to ask for your consent before i do anything, and i’ll make sure to tell you exactly what i plan to do. if at any point something makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to let me know immediately. and if you ever want to stop, we stop, no questions asked."

Shoto nodded, his gaze meeting yours with a look of understanding. "that all sounds fair," he said, his tone serious but calm. "where do we begin?"

you sat down beside him on the bed, your hands instinctively resting over your chest as you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. the excitement was almost palpable, making it hard to focus. "kiss me," you said softly, your eyes locked onto his. "right now, just do what feels right for you."

to your surprise, Shoto’s lips crashed into yours much more forcefully than last time, like he was needier. and he was; if the dare hadn’t been erupted earlier, he wouldn’t have been able to slow himself down. he was touch-starved, a man hungry for more, and he wanted you.

as he deepened the kiss, you heard the soft moan he let loose, sending heat washing through your body. with his lips parted, you took the chance to gently caress the roof of his mouth with your tongue. he practically melted at the action, leaning further into you.

you continuously had to remind yourself that this was Shoto, someone who deserved tenderness and love, not just a way to get yourself off. but the way his hands were now gripping your waist and sending hot and cold sensations through your skin… it was driving you wild.

for a moment, you pulled away, seeing his eyes still closed with his brows furrowed. “for someone who hasn’t done this often, you are very good at making out, Sho.” you tell him while trying to catch your breath.

“what’s next?” he asked.

your eyebrows raised in amusement. “what’s the rush?”

“i’ve been imagining this for a long time, y/n.” when Shoto’s eyes connected with yours, you saw that his pupils were blown out, filled with a deeper desire than you could’ve imagined inside of him.

while Shoto didn’t show any nervousness, you felt it growing more and more. you usually weren’t one to be shy, but right now everything felt different.

“if you want to, we can touch each other while we kiss.” you tell him. “anywhere.”

Shoto placed his hands further up your torso, looking at you for permission before you nodded. he leaned in to meet your lips again, feeling adrenaline rush through him. the feeling he got from kissing you was enough to drive him insane, an emotion he had never felt before beginning to build.

your hands drifted from his neck to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. as you allowed your hands to lazily travel further down, his traveled further up, settling on your ribs and just below your breasts. when his thumb traced the line of your bra, you embarrassingly let out a moan, but to Shoto, it sounded like music to his ears. he took the chance to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter you and caress yours.

“Sho.” you murmured, breaking away for a moment to catch your breath.

“tell me what to do.” his voice came out hoarse and low, and his eyes pierced yours with a fierce determination.

“you’re making it really hard for me to take this slow for you.” you laughed nervously, your body trembling under his gaze.

“then don’t take it slow.”

you blinked a few times, trying to register his words, hoping to kickstart your brain into high gear to figure out what to do. “Sho...” you breathed lowly.

“i trust you.” Shoto interrupted, placing his hand over the one you had on his chest. “take the lead. please.”

with his plead, the fire within you burned hotter than ever, and you quickly moved to straddle him on the bed as your lips connected with his once more. this time, he kissed you back feverously, like he felt the same hunger you did.

“are you sure?” you asked, wanting to double check... maybe even triple check... that he wanted to do this. he nodded into your shoulder, a muffled mph coming from his mouth.

the time passed by quickly, and the kiss grew until you couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted to show him what it felt like to feel pleasure, even downright damn euphoria. selfishly, you wanted to feel it too. you moved from his lips before starting to litter kisses along his jaw and down his neck, working your way down as your hands fidgeted with the bottom of his t-shirt. when he sensed what you were trying to do, he quickly pulled his shirt over his head, almost making you gasp at the sight.

his body could’ve been the work of a god.

before you let yourself get flustered, you continued to pepper kisses in a trail from his neck, down his torso. with each kiss, you could hear his breath stuttering. “tell me something, Sho.” you whispered against his skin. “have you ever... touched yourself?”

you looked up to find Shoto’s face turned pink, but he nodded in answer.

“y-yes.” he stammered out. Shoto didn’t want to admit to you that he’d never done such a thing until he’d met you, until he’d realized what his feelings meant. he felt dirty thinking about those nights, when you’d visit him in a dream, and he’d wake up to a feeling in his stomach and an erection he needed to solve.

“good boy.” you smirked up at him, and he could’ve imploded just from the look. he could only watch with anticipation as you worked to remove his belt, then undo the clasp on his pants. “i’m going to touch you here, like you’ve done yourself. is that okay?”

again, he could only muster a nod in response. you gently pulled on his pants, dragging them down to his ankles and only leaving his boxers behind. you could see the growing erection under the fabric, and the thought of what was underneath made your mouth water.

before you removed the fabric, you let you palm lay flat across his erection, sliding up it ever so gently. Shoto barked out a moan, and you felt pleased with yourself.

“tell me to stop if you need me to.” you told him, but with his breathing already labored from one touch you doubted he would speak up.

you placed a soft kiss on the top of the fabric, feeling his cock twitch underneath at the contact.

as if on pure instinct, Shoto’s hand went to your head, working his fingers into your hair. he didn’t know what had driven him to do such a thing, but it felt right.

with his apparent eagerness, you hooked a finger under the band of his boxers before tugging, sucking in a breath once his cock was released from the fabric. of course, shoto was beautiful, it made sense that his cock would be too.

you felt a warmth pooling in your stomach, travelling down to wet between your legs. you lightly tapped his thigh, getting his attention and having him look down at you before you gently licked a stripe from the base of him to the top.

his fingers gripped your hair, not so rough, and he hissed. fuck, his friends never told him it felt this good. every primal instinct inside of Shoto was screaming at him to pull your mouth down onto his cock and stuff your face. it took all his strength to restrain himself from fear of hurting you.

“that f-feels...” Shoto stopped mid-sentence when you pressed your tongue flat against his tip.

“talk to me, Sho.” you whispered, kissing his already leaking tip and taking his precum into your mouth.

“don’t stop.” he whined, his hand fisting in your hair tighter than before.

having Shoto beg in front of you sent dirty, wicked thoughts straight to your brain. you’d never walked someone through sex before, let alone something you deemed as simple as a blowjob, but seeing him coming undone before you drove you feral.

you were done with the little kisses and licks you’d been giving him, finally deciding to take him fully. he watched with half lidded eyes as you opened your mouth and eased his tip past your lips, using your tongue to caress circles around it. Shoto’s head dipped back in pleasure, leaving you to take in more of him.

fuck, you hadn’t realized how big he’d actually be. you struggled to lower your mouth over his cock, before you finally felt it hit the back of your throat. Shoto moaned at the feeling of his tip touching your throat. as gentle as he could, he bucked into your mouth, wanting to feel more.

“holy shit, y/n.” he breathed, trying to keep his body from spasming out of control. the feeling of you taking him was delicious, and it was making his head swim. if he hadn’t been on the bed already, Shoto swore he might’ve passed out from pleasure.

you worked your mouth up and down, slowly at first, to get all of him wet with your spit. with each bobbing motion you made, more moans spilled from Shoto’s lips. you could feel him twitching in your mouth every time your tongue stroked his leaking tip.

to give your jaw a break, you pulled your mouth off him with a satisfying pop before letting your hands replace where you were. it took two hands, but with the saliva you’d left behind and his precum dripping, you stroked him gently, working his cock between your hands.

“i feel hot all over.” Shoto murmured, one hand still on your hair while the other gripped at the sheet.

“is this what you feel when you touch yourself?” you asked, looking up at him as he panted with every stroke.

“y-yes. if you don’t stop, i think i might...” he moaned, breaking up his sentence, when you swiped your thumb over the soft spot between his shaft and tip.

“cum for me, like you do when it’s your hand and not mine.” you instructed, before taking his tip back into your mouth but letting your hands work up and down his shaft, picking up your pace.

Shoto began to thrust more wildly, unable to stop himself from almost fucking your face. a coil had formed in his stomach, and it was so close to being released. when he’d done this himself, it was pleasurable, but only a means to an end to solve an erection. now, what you were doing to him felt like heaven, your mouth a soft and warm rapture.

he felt that heat in his stomach grow hotter and hotter, until it felt like it was burning. Shoto gripped your hair in his hand, lifting his hips to drive his cock until he felt the back of your throat, and only then did he feel that band within him snap. he let loose a load moan as he saw stars, shooting his cum deep into your throat and watching as you took every drop, gazing up at him with beautiful eyes.

when he started to come down from his release, you pulled your mouth off his cock, licking up the last dribbles of cum before placing a gentle kiss on his tip. “how was that, Sho?” you asked, your face flush as you looked up.

sweat gleamed on Shoto’s forehead and torso, his breathing heavy but his smile unwavering. that familiar grin, the one that made your heart skip a beat, was fixed on you.

instead of speaking, he cupped your face in his hands, pulling you gently towards him. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both passionate and tender. between kisses on your lips, cheeks, and neck, Shoto panted out, “that was amazing. you’re amazing.”

you laughed softly into his mouth, your cheeks flushing at the compliment. “i’m glad you feel that way,” you replied, your voice warm and affectionate.

as you both caught your breath, Shoto settled you onto his lap and ran his fingers through your hair. his voice was a gentle murmur as he nuzzled into your neck. “as much as i want you to show me more, i’m struggling to keep my eyes open,” he said softly. you chuckled, understanding his exhaustion.

“let’s get some sleep, okay?” you kissed his forehead, before helping him to stand from the bed.

as you changed into comfortable pajamas, Shoto merely pulled his boxers back on before climbing into your sheets, snuggling comfortably into one of your pillows. you climbed under the covers next to him before he pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist and having your back pressed against his chest.

“show me more tomorrow.” Shoto whispered, kissing your shoulder before letting his head sink into the pillow.

you blushed, but gave a lazy mhm in response, settling in comfortably next to him.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

Link to Bakugo x reader here

(word count: 2,328)

Link to Kirishima x reader here

(word count: 902)

#mha fanfiction #bhna fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bhna x reader #mha smut #mha shoto #shoto x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #shoto smut

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lenoraslament · 5 months ago

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hey! love your work. could you perhaps try writing like a list of turn-ons for the slytherin boys? or a short story about a dance for each of them?? tysm and have a good day.

Slytherin Boys React: Dance With Me

Fluff, Suggestive 16+, Angst, toxic relationship (lol with guess who TMR).

Not proofread because I’m sick.

Mattheo Riddle

“Matty, I don’t care if you win,” you say rolling your eyes as you both walk towards the Quidditch field, “I’m still not giving you a lap dance”. Mattheo reaches an arm over to tug your waist closer. He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Come on, what do I have to look forward to after I crush Ravenclaw?” He asked with that teasing grin that left you wild.

“The merits of your victory? Spoils of butterbeer?” You chime in sarcastically and he only shakes his head and kisses you before the game.

It was brutal. Ravenclaw destroyed. Their lead was apparent within twenty minutes, they never let up. The whole time you cringed, hissed in anguish when they made point after point. When the Ravenclaw seeker caught the snitch, you knew it was over and Mattheo would be pissed.

“FUCK!” You could hear from outside his room, then a crash. Then a bang. You sighed and quickly opened the door. Theo and Enzo gave you a weary look as they tried to wrestle the chair out of Mattheo’s hands. Being team captain was a source of pride and chaos for him. Ever since he took on the role the pressure had been insurmountable and Mattheo’s way of handling it wasn’t what you would describe as healthy.

The look you gave his two friends was cautioning. Theo set the chair down not the ground and Enzo patted Mattheo’s shoulder as they walked out of the dorm, leaving you to tend to your boyfriend.

“Not now Y/N, just NOT NOW”. He said and sighed. You saw his frustratation just as much as you sensed his resistance to take it out on you. So you walked to him, looking up at him as you pushed his shoulders softly guiding him to the chair to sit. With a sigh he complied.

His defeated glance morphed into mild amusement as you straddled him on the chair. He raised his eyebrows as you pulled out your phone and put on a sexy song. Slowly your hips grinded into his, you dropped your phone on the floor and hooked your wrists behind his neck.

His lips fell open, your hips moved into a figure 8. Keening against him until you stood up and turned around. You felt his fingers dig into your waist, pulling until you were back on his lap. His fury melted into lust. One free arm thrown around his neck as you arched your back and rode his clothed erection.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t give me a lap dance?” He whispered in your ear tentatively.

“I said I wouldn’t give you one if you won”.

Theo Nott

Theo’s sat stoic in the midst of the thumping party. His eyes latched onto your body, ten feet away you danced with your friends. The way you writhed, the slow figure eight movement of your hips caught him in a trance. A trance that was broken my a smirking Mattheo, sitting on the arm of his chair and passing him a blunt.

Theo took it mindlessly taking a big hit and holding in the smoke. His eyes never leaving you as you twirled. After three more hits he could feel his edges dissolve. It would have been enough for him to stay watching you, feeling light headed and aroused by his beautiful girlfriend.

It was a party but it felt like a private show for him. He didn’t even notice Enzo at first, standing behind you. Probably cross faded as his hand landed on your hip. Pulling you close. Mattheo raised his eyebrows as he watched this exchange and looked down at Theo. The slow rage bubbled beneath the surface and Theo stood up a little too fast.

He was making his way towards both of you only to be cut off by Mattheo who beat him to Enzo. Mattheo nearly ripped drunk Enzo’s arm off as he dragged him away. You were so far gone, swimming in vodka that you missed the chaos. You lifted your hands up above your head and guided them down your body as you swiveled your hips.

Next thing you know your boyfriend was pulling you close, spinning you to face away so he could grind onto your ass.

“Going to keep you close cara mia,” he whispered in your ear. You only nodded with a grin, his breath on your neck as you danced heatedly together driving your crazy.

Lorenzo Berkshire

You both needed a break. School had been stressful, drama and rumors had culminated into more fights, less fun. It felt like it had been weeks since you two had shared anything but resentment.

But you and Enzo had been together for a long time now, one bad month wasn’t enough to break you up. Every now and then the nagging feeling hit you. When you saw him flirt and joke with other girls just for him to be cold and short with you. You got his worse. And in return you gave him hell.

Finally he said no more. You two were going to go on a date this weekend. Talk out your issues and most importantly have some fun. Hand and hand you walked around the black lake trying to find a spot for a picnic. He dropped the basket down as you silently spread out the blanket. It was quiet. A little awkward.

You looked up at the sky darkening above. When you made eye contact with him he immediately got defensive realizing he hadn’t checked the weather

“Don’t start,” he grumbled and you only grimaced and sighed. You sat down together, pulled out your lunches. Neither one of you wanting to be the first to speak. Thunder broke the silence.

The downpour hit before you could nag him. Through the rain you could see him looking at you intently. His hair was sopping wet, your sandwiches ruined and drinks watered down. So you did the only thing you could do. You laughed. So did he.

Enzo stood up and held his hand out to you, just when you thought you would both make a run for it he pulled you close. Together you swayed softly in the summer rain, he hummed a song as you both giggled. Only stopping to kiss and look into each other’s eyes with a renewed sense of adoration.

Draco Malfoy

The Malfoy Ball. Christmas time. The two are nearly synonymous. You wore a pretty white gown with gold sparkles, red lips. They could have placed you top of the grand Christmas tree that stood in the ballroom. Twenty feet tall, adorned with white and gold bulbs. Sprays of silver tinsel and enchanted candles surrounding it. Snow hung above the dance floor, magically dissipating before it touched the throng of dancing couples.

All night your feet hadn’t touched the ground and Draco hadn’t stopped touching you. His hand possessively held the back of your neck, the other hooked around your waist. Lips grazing your forehead as he showered you with praise. The most beautiful thing, he’s ever seen.

“Draco, your parents,” you whisper as he pulls away from his millionth kiss of the night. He only grins and pulls you even closer making you flush. Slow dancing making you feel heated and breathless. Every now and then the gentle brush of his hips on yours makes you gasp.

“My parents are drunk, as are yours,” he teased back, “they won’t notice this” he says as he cups your bottom and squeezes making you smack his arm. He’s in good spirits and laughed as you do. Draco pulls away a little relenting but takes the moment to look in your eyes.

His hand drifts from your neck to your hair, pushing it off your face and behind your ear. His gaze a mix of adoration and lust as his eyes trail past your face to your chest. Your eyes fall to his lips and the hunger that’s been slowly building between the two of you makes your head spin

“Then they won’t notice when we sneak away?” You ask with a smile. Draco raises his eyes brow and takes your hand pulling you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom so you two can steal away to his room.

Blaise Zabini

Three years together. You mulled over this as you slipped the silky pink dress you chose for the night. Then you slipped on your heels and walked towards the door, Blaise was there hand raised in mid knock forcing you both to laugh as you locked eyes.

“Hey babe,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“Ready for tonight?” Blaise asked as his hand cradled you jaw so he could give you a brief kiss. Your head tipped back with a smile, “You know I love when you surprise me”.

He led you to his car. Even made you wear a blindfold until you arrived at a small dance studio. It was there he revealed he signed you both up for salsa dancing lessons. You giggled and squeezed his hand as you lined up with other couples.

It was charming watching how seriously he watched the instructor. Trying to match the steps to the beat of the music. Only stopping to turn and smile at you teasingly. Throw you a wink. Reach over and softly pinch your side while laughing when he saw you miss a step.

After thirty minutes of instruction, you were instructed to pair up so he held you closely. It was a shock to see how smoothly he moved, he held the small of your back pushing your hips into his. Following the steps was easy for him, but keeping his hands off of you was damn near impossible.

“Watching you move your body like that is killing me,” he muttered into your hair as he looked down to smirk at you. You had to admit, he was pretty damn good.

Tom Riddle

He never wanted to go to that stupid Yule Ball in the first place. Tom had told you a million times that he didn’t dance and didn’t feel like having to be “on” for something as stupid as a social event. Even though many saw him as popular, charming, headboy; it was for manipulation purposes only. He knew you knew that, so why you drag him to such a droll event was beyond him.

His eyes slipped down your figure, the dazzling gown you bought. He thought you looked angelic, ethereal, a work of art he’d like to pin to his bed instead of hang off his arm. Tom had his warmest smile on as he talked to Regulus and Theo; as you talked to their dates. Only one hour down, this was tedious.

He began to get into a heated debate with Theo about a potion that they had been trying to develop. It was like an ear worm that nestled into his brain and after a while he couldn’t stop thinking of it. So when you went to get punch and dance with one of your girlfriends he left. He didn’t do it maliciously, he went to his dorm and studied the potion for hours. You, the dance, everything slipped his mind.

By the time he had charged out of his room with the sole intent of throwing it in Theo’s face he didn’t even realize that hours had passed. You were sitting in the Slytherin common room, alone. Like a weeping angel, looking forlorn. The dying fire cast a warm glow on your face.

Damnit, he knew he wasn’t a perfect boyfriend. Not tender, emotionally available but he never liked to see you cry. The urge to start a fight, to yell, to push you away so this uncomfortable guilt biting in his chest would go away was heavy. But your dazzling gown, the way it hung off your body. The tears on your cheeks making you look even more beautiful, it choked his usual toxic habits.

Tom raised his wand, the record player in the common room began to play. La Petite File de La Mer. The music startled you, making you turn your head towards it when you saw Tom standing there. Your gaze was fire, burning into his. Rage and disappointment cut with heartbreak because of course. He let you down again.

There were no words for you from him. His stride was ever confident, his hand held out for you to take. Music flooded the room, weakness flooded your heart. When you were in his arms, tears spilled as he swept you away. Was there a flicker of compassion in his eyes? You couldn’t see it past the water. Quick, quick, slow. You moved. You glided. The waltz. Because Tom knew how to dance; he was very talented indeed. The truth was before now, he simply didn’t want to.

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devildomwriter · 7 months ago

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I want to ask... pleasee... when do you think obm charas fell for mc? And how they realize about that kind of feeling. And i actually curious about seraph other than michael and raphael (relationship with lucy) thankyouuuuuu ✌(‘ω’)✌

When Did They Fall in Love?

Mammon fell almost right away. He already was leaving a toothbrush in MC’s room by chapter 4 so I’d say a little before then probably in chapter 3

Leviathan was very flustered around MC after agreeing to a pact and becoming closer friends. I believe this is around the time he started really falling for MC and seeing them as more than a friend. This is in chapter 4

I believe Beelzebub fell for MC after they saved his life. They were already becoming friends but after that Beel was pretty devoted to MC. This happens in chapter 6

Asmodeus became enamored with MC after experiencing their power. This is when he started looking at MC as more than just a human and housemate. The more he learned about MC the more devoted he became. This starts in chapter 8

I believe Satan fell for MC around the time they formed a pact. He had great respect for them and was a bit flustered about the situation. This happens in chapter 12

I believe Lucifer’s interest begins in chapter 12 but dissolves upon MC’s betrayal. However when the dust settles his feelings have returned by chapter 17

Belphegor immediately took an interest in MC in chapter 16 upon learning their heritage. However I believed he felt romantic interest in chapter 17 onwards when MC helped him repair his bond with his brothers and he saw how kind they were.

Solomon is hard to say. He doesn’t get a lot of time in season one and in season two he is mostly trying to figure them out. However in season two he is willing to kill Lucifer and destabilize the Devildom over letting MC die. To I’d say within season 2

Simeon also became more attached to MC in season 2 and was confessing and blushing by season 3. But I predict it was towards the end of season 2

Diavolo fell for MC probably towards the end of season 1. But during the chaos of season 2 and not knowing if MC would live or die he held his tongue. He tried confessing later in season 2 but was interrupted.

Barbatos was pretty confused about everyone’s attachment to MC. In season 3 MC kisses him and he is surprised to feel a warmth from it. But he officially falls for MC at the end of season 4. Barbatos takes a while because he’s been all throughout time and is very strict in his duties, so love didn’t cross his mind until he felt it for MC.

Thirteen is pretty attached to MC in Nightbringer almost immediately. But she begins calling herself an MC Stan before the end of NB season 1 and ropes Mephistopheles into it.

Mephistopheles hasn’t shown much romantic interest in MC in Nightbringer yet but as teased by Thirteen he believes MC looks good but just never says what he means. I believe he develops interest in season 2 but I don’t believe he’s fallen just yet.

Raphael has almost no time in Nightbringer and hasn’t had a chance to bond with MC. In the OG game he did get pretty close to MC as they helped him accept the reality Lucifer and his brothers wouldn’t return to the Celestial Realm. He’s also the first of the new three to get closer to them in OG. But I don’t believe he’s fallen for them yet, though interest is there.

Michael hasn’t fallen for MC but we know he cares about them and has been protecting them though he claims it’s for the brothers’ sake. He feels MC is trustworthy enough to rant to about his issues so he must care at least a little.

Other Seraphs and Lucifer

I believe it was in a daily chat, but Simeon has texted Lucifer that the other angels have been asking about him, especially Uriel. So we know that some of them still care about him or are at the very least curious—Not just the seraphim but all of the angels.

#obey me shall we date #obey me ask #obey me explanation #obey me answers #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me simeon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles #obey me raphael #obey me michael #obey me Uriel #obey me angels

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chaptersleftunwritten · 1 month ago

Text

Demanding more

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Blurb: After Chrissy’s unfaithfulness to Eddie, Eddie realises that maybe he has been harbouring feelings for you for longer than he ever cared to notice. Is it too late for him to make it up to you?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, slight angst (I know, I’m sorry!), mutual pining, cursing, alcohol consumption, trust issues, claustrophobia, some out of character anger from Eddie, reckless fire usage, pet names, kissing. Characters are 20+

divider by @sxmmerberries & @reveriesources

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

Silence. A deep void of idle and infinite dark.

“I need to know that you’re going to be okay, at least…”

A plead. Bruised knees. Quaking breath. Clasped hands shaking. No rest.

“What do you want me to say? Tell me word for word and I’ll say it.” Eddie’s voice is a hoarse croak and the small light that you harbour in your chest dampens further at the sound, “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t understand why you keep coming back to see me.”

“Because I love you.”

“Because you’re my friend.” The blade wedged into the bone of your sternum plunges further and twists mercilessly; so agonisingly paralysing that you almost wince aloud at the pain.

Red, tear burnt eyes meet yours and you internally flinch at the sight. You’ve never seen Eddie this way. So broken… so defeated.

It’s as if nettles sting at your own eyes and you blink away any moisture that threatens to gather on your waterline, “We are friends, right?” You ask again. Breathless and uncertain.

Before the chaos of the fight at the party you couldn’t remember much, so it scared you to know that you had contact with Eddie and you couldn’t remember what you had said to him. Or what he had said to you…

“Correct.” He forces a smile, just for you.

The relief that washes over you dissolves the palpable tension that smothered the air and Eddie feels his own rigidness melt away at the realisation that you weren’t the one who hurt him. Yes, you were Chrissy’s friend, but you weren’t her. You weren’t Chrissy. And you didn’t deserve this cold shoulder that he was dishing out to everyone.

He could be himself around you.

“I’m gonna be okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much.” He offers you a tight lipped smile and you return one similar except that it was full of sincerity and warmth.

“I get that I can’t change what happened, but I can be here with you and hold your hand through the storm,” you sigh softly, adverting your gaze to a nearby decaying rose. It’s petals have turned a dark wine colour and its stem has moulded, “I know what it’s like to watch someone that you lov- admire, turn their attention to someone else. Someone that isn’t you.” Your mouth sours and you feel your lips pinch downward at the corners faintly, “It gets easier with time. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll love you until their dying breath.”

The cool breeze lifts your hair from your knitted sweater clad shoulders, allowing the strands to flow freely behind you. You embrace the feeling of the freshness upon your skin. There was something so comforting about it. Something so freeing: like being reborn. Rejuvenated. You allow your eyes to close momentarily as you replenish yourself, letting your spirit breathe.

You quickly clam up at the sight of Eddie’s hawk like gaze fixated on your face when your eyes reopen and your cheeks flush furiously; your body’s way of punishing you for being so open and vulnerable around him.

“You seem like you’re busy,” you gesture knowingly to the scrap pieces of paper laid in front of him that had a bunch of sloppily written lyrics scored across it, “I’ll leave you be.” You punctuate your words with a brisk rise to your feet and you flatten out your jeans mindlessly that had become wrinkled from being perched cross legged on the grass. Eddie’s eyes never leave you. Not for a second.

“I’ll see you around, then?” He asks, his voice is a croak.

“Of course. I’ll see you later, Eddie.” You sling your heavy book bag over your shoulder as you prepare yourself to walk away.

He stops you in your tracks, “Call me Ed’s.” It’s evident that Eddie didn’t intend for his words to sound as desperate as they did and you try your best to ignore the plea in his voice. Out of respect for him and his situation.

“Okay.” You breathe softly with a nod and a sweet but sombre smile, “Bye, Ed’s.”

Eddie’s eyes warm as they watch you walk away and he even chuckles lightly to himself at how you look bashfully back at him over your shoulder; only to quickly dart your vision in front of you at the realisation that he was also admiring you.

And in that exact moment, Eddie can see a light at the end of this endless dark tunnel. In the form of a friend. An honest, loving and cherished friend…

You.

‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.’

William Shakespeare

Part of you felt sickeningly grateful that this had happened. As much as you hated the fact that Eddie was wounded, it gave you a feeling of opportunity. To be there for him and for him to realise how great you can be. How perfect you are for him.

However, upon witnessing his stinging red and bloodshot eyes that could only have come from his penetrative sadness you realise that you couldn’t see this as an ‘opportunity’. You couldn’t throw yourself at his feet and hope for his love to finally be requited. Not with him being so deeply hurt. So vulnerable and delicate.

Not delicate like a flower. Delicate like a bomb.

These silly ideals only happened in the fairy tales. The prince saves the princess from the wicked villain and they run off together to live happily ever after. But this was real life…

And there was no one coming to save you.

So instead, you settle for just being his friend. The friend that he has always had. The friend, that is all you’ll ever be to Edward Munson.

There comes a tricky time in your life where you just have to accept that some things will never be. They weren’t written in the stars the way you had always dreamed. Your prayers weren’t answered and all of your attempts at happiness and perfection fail.

You have to accept it. And move on.

No matter the cost. No matter how agonising. You had to ignore the gaping hole in your chest that laid bleeding all over the earth beneath your feet. Your sky tainted red with blood and fury and your tears and skin were flames. You had to endure this Hell.

For him.

And you could do it. You had walked through fire before— you were numb to the blistering heat.

But what you couldn’t handle was the claustrophobia you were feeling at The Hideout whilst you watched Eddie rock his feelings out from his bones. From his quaking soul. The low lit hall was captured in a Hellish red glowing aura and reality begins to distort around you.

“I wrote a song for a girl that wasn’t really worth my time,” Sweat glistens on Eddie’s body, dripping down the curve of his neck and from his face. His drenched black unruly curls stick to his forehead and you watch a drunken and sinister smile possess his face as he pulls a few sheets of paper from the back pocket of his distressed jeans, “And what’d you do when people waste your time?” He is handed a petrol lighter by Gareth, “You burn that shit to the fucking ground!” He screams in a rage you have never heard come from his sweet pillowy lips as he flicks the flint and engulfs the pages in hot red crimson. A strum from his guitar screeches through the space, rattling your ears and causing your heart to palpitate heavily.

The crowd goes ballistic, like wild animals and you are suddenly in a mosh pit of adrenaline surged metal heads. All banging their heads and leaping around. People grab your shoulders to try to propel themselves upward and into the band’s line of vision all whilst unknowingly forcing you down toward the linoleum ground.

Black spots fill your vision and your knees threaten to give out beneath you as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. An avalanche of sweaty body’s drowning you until you are nearly crouched onto the floor and you accept your fate as your hands brace themselves— stuck to the tarnished pattern beneath your sneakers.

“Woah, woah, woah!! Guys, c’mon! Open up! Open the fuck up! Let’s be respectful!” Eddie leaps from the stage platform and the crowd parts like the Red Sea at his presence, “Not cool man, this isn’t what we do here.” Gareth continues to drum on a beat as Eddie’s silhouette looms over you like a dark angel sent from above. His palm outstretched toward your cowering frame and you take it hesitantly; caught off guard by his strength that springs you to your feet.

“Y’alright, sweetheart? You good?” Your chest heaves for air as Eddie leads you back through the crowd and to the front of the stage, his hand clutching yours like there’s no tomorrow, “Stay right here where I can see ya.” One of his chocolate brown eyes wink at you and you feel as if you could levitate.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah! Let’s fucking do this!!” And the song continues to shock and shake the room with every pulse and strum of an instrument. The crowd returning back to how they were moments ago.

Feral.

And Eddie meant what he said. He was looking at you the entire time. Making sure you were okay.

“So…” you twirl a strand of your hair around your index finger. It wasn’t intentionally flirtatious, it was something you found great comfort in when you were feeling particularly on edge and Eddie had the scary capability of always putting you there: teetering on possibility of falling from the cliff side, “You really wrote a song for Chrissy?”

The stalky man hums, “Yeah. It was garbage, though. It wasn’t real… in the end.” His gentle eyes harden, “The lesson here is that not everyone deserves a song written about them. I don’t know how all the bigger musicians do it all of the time. So faux. So deluding.” He sips at a can of beer he has held loosely between his fingers, “Thank you for coming tonight. It got a bit rowdy in there.”

A set of traffic lights above your head capsulate you and Eddie in a ghoulish green haze, sharpening your features and turning Eddie’s chocolate eyes to look more like deep and black bullet holes. No light was reflected in them. They gaped and swallowed every speck.

“You have such raw talent, Ed’s. It would silly of me to not come and see you play.” You offer him a toothy grin, “Besides, when you make it to be big and famous I can say ‘Hey, I know that guy!’ And everyone will swoon and ask me for stories about you.” Your comic words cause Eddie to laugh and shake his head.

“You won’t have to tell people that you know me, Hon. I’ll be there in the flesh to solidify your fairytales.” The way Eddie spoke enchanted you. It didn’t matter what he was saying— he had this magical enticing lull to his voice that sent you into a trance of total calmness. You were incredibly smitten by him.

The pizza place across the street engulfs your nostrils with the perfume of freshly baked bread and burnt cheese. The lights on the building flicker in your peripheral and you watch as people pumped full of toxins waddle and sway their way over to it from The Hideout. Drunk and in desperate need of some grease and salt.

“You saved me tonight, Y’know? If it weren’t for you I think I would’ve been crushed to death in there.” The chilly night air around you stills, “Truly. You are my knight in shining leather, Eddie Munson.” You pinch at the sleeve of his leather jacket with a giggle and Eddie crushes his beer can with a soft smile and tosses it into a nearby trash bin.

“You’re welcome, M’lady,” He bows down in front of you, almost curtsying, “It was a treacherous journey indeed and an act of cowardly courage but it ensured your safety. So, it was a risk worth pursuing.”

He was such a nerd and his dorkiness made you laugh a little too abruptly. But it was something you loved so much about him. His ability to stay creative and to stay in touch with his inner child. His vulnerability and his strength. You admired it. You were enamoured by him.

“How are you getting home tonight? Do you have a ride?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no. I was probably going to walk and take in the night air. It’s not too late.” You give a tiny shrug of your shoulders and Eddie eyes you knowingly, his head tilted to the side.

“I can drive you. If you want?” His ringed fingers plunge into the pockets of his coat and you chew your lip in thought.

Of course you wanted him to take you home. But it was best for you to remain two steps away from him. For the safety of your own heart.

“You’ve been drinking tonight… I don’t think it would be wise for us to climb into a piece of heavy machinery together.” Eddie’s eyes flicker from you to over his right shoulder as he peeks at his van that is parked across the street a few paces away. A small yellow ticket adorns his windshield and he curses under his breath at the sight of it.

Eddie’s head bounces in the form of a nod, “You’re right. Safer that way,” He palms the back of his neck in a wringing motion, “I’ll see you soon then? Maybe you can call me when you get home… to let me know you’re okay. Obviously.”

A side of Eddie you had never seen before was beginning to unveil itself to you and you were sceptical of if it were a good thing or bad thing. He was being overly cautious and protective of you and your whereabouts. He was showing you such care and consideration. Was he using you as a rebound? Or did he genuinely worry for you?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You bite back the acid ridden annoyance in your tone, trying your best not to jump to any conclusions about Eddie’s intentions with you. But with the way he was looking at you, how were you supposed to truly know?

“I’ll wait by the phone.” He smiles so sweetly it could cause your teeth to decay— but that paranoid part of you wouldn’t allow you to enjoy this moment. The bruised pieces of your heart were telling you to run far far away. And to never look back.

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Your voice was rushed and monotonous.

“Call me, Ed’s—“

Your back is turned swifter than the gust of wind whipping at your face and hair and Eddie watches you, helplessly, as you disappear into the thick of the night with a slightly dampened heart and a small frown on his face.

‘Love is friendship that has caught fire.’

Ann Landers

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the phone receiver, groggy and hoarse. Your heart does somersaults in your chest and excitement finds itself burying between your thighs.

“Did you wait by the phone?” You reply, slightly embarrassed and meek. It was now 1:30am and the night was beginning to spill into the morning. You were becoming delirious with lack of sleep and it was bleeding through every word you spoke.

“It’s you,” He chirps much more perkily now, “Did you get home alright?” You can hear a shift of fabric on the other end of the line, like a duvet cover rustling and you can only assume that Eddie was repositioning himself in bed.

“Yeah, that’s why I called, actually. I wanted to let you know I was okay. I didn’t want you to worry…” You don’t quite understand why you said it, but you did. Over the past couple of weeks Eddie had hinted at caring for you. He had given you more attention than ever before and so naturally… you thought he really did care. And that he might actually be worried about you making it home in one piece.

“Thanks.” The line goes quiet for a quick beat and it gives your paranoia every just cause to bubble to the surface.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You finish your sentence with an unintentional gulp as your mouth longs for hydration.

“I was only dozing off a little, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called, sweetheart.” There’s that nickname again. The one you have come to adore. You can hear his sleepy smile through the phone, “You are probably the only person who has ever called me this late,” His quiet laugh is fatigued and careful as to not alarm his uncle who is destined to be sleeping close by, “Did you enjoy the concert tonight?”

You hum, “I did.”

Eddie hums a tune back, like a bird singing you to sleep, “And what was your favourite song?”

You are quiet for a moment, reminiscent and concentrated.

“I would have to say the one about the rose. I hadn’t heard it before,” You grin to yourself, “Can you sing it for me?”

There is a shocked waver to Eddie’s deep voice, “What— like, right now?” You can sense his jitters through the telephone.

“Only the chorus…” Although he can’t see your face, you pout out your bottom lip pleadingly, “Please?”

There is another shift of movement on the other end of the line and Eddie clears his throat, full of hesitance, “Alright.” His voice is clipped, “Just remember that this debuted today so it is basically still a work in progress…”

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint his emotion, but you could tell that he was experiencing some sort of shyness and there was a slight withdrawal. He was no longer as confident as he was talking to you moments ago.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I was only joking around—“

“No no, I want to. I’m glad you liked it… it means a lot to me, darling.”

Darling. That’s a new one.

Vibrations hit your ears as Eddie skilfully hums the tune to the song, manipulating his voice to lyrically match his beautifully dark words.

“And even if you were nothing but a wilted flower with a shrinking stem, I would still hold you close and preserve you in the worn pages of my blackened heart. The reason that I’m breathing, the love that keeps me reaping… oh.. oh oh,” He pauses for breath, “And you keep on bleeding, Oh… oh oh.”

As his words disperse into deafening silence on the phone you sit completely statue still. Almost too afraid to move. Petrified to disturb the moment. His songs were like poetry and it nearly brought you to a flood of tears.

“That was… wow…” You release a deep breath out through your nostrils, “You should consider recording an acoustic version, Ed’s, because that was… epic.”

“You think so?” He asks with shock laced in his tone and you swear you can see his brown puppy dog eyes looking right at you. But maybe they were just seared into your memory. He was embedded into your soul.

“One hundred percent.” Your fingers shakily toy with the hem of your cotton sleep shorts, the pads of your finger tips tracings the small pink love hearts that have been sewn into the light fabric and you feel a sudden surge of energy. Excitement. Adrenaline. Happiness.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really are too kind to me.”

Before you can respond Eddie is yawning into the cavity of your ear and you can hear him struggling to keep the expression silent.

“It’s getting late,” Your eyes follow the coiled wire attached to your phone as they search for the clock on your night stand. It now read 1:55am, “I understand if you want to try and hit the hay. Early bird gets the worm, right?”

“We can chat a little longer, if you’d like?” He suggests casually, “I’m usually a night owl anyways, it’s the booze making me a little drowsy but it’s wearing off. Can feel it.”

You bite back a shit-eating smile.

“I’d like that. How about we stay on the line until 2:15am and then we can call it quits?” You come to sit up on your mattress in a cross legged position, your legs comfortably sitting in a basket as you move yourself closer to the phone receiver, “Deal?”

There’s a brief pause.

“Deal.”

The blood orange rays slicing through your bedroom curtains awoke you rudely and you rapidly blink away the sunlight, almost blinded by its intensity. The sound of bird wings flapping into fight filled the eerily quiet atmosphere of your room and a loud groan vibrates from your tired throat as you force yourself up into a stretch with your arms extended above your head.

You were optimistic about the day until you caught a glimpse through the glass and saw the rain dancing devilishly against the concrete. It’s was as though the water mocked you. With every hellish dance it thundered against the ground your feelings for Eddie only grew fonder. It grinned evilly in your face with every feeble attempt you made to forget him. A reminder that no matter what you did, he would always be there. He would always possess your soul. Your efforts would always ultimately fail.

By the time you burst into your morning lecture you are soaked to the bone from head to toe. Your hair sticks in drenched ringlets to your shivering goosebump covered skin and the fabric of your clothes cling for dear life to your limbs. No corner of your body was left unseen. Every curve prominent and protruding.

“You’re late.” Professor Hunter snarls distastefully beneath his breath, his Dublin accent bleeding through as you pass by his large dark oak stained desk to a free seat. He smelt of lingering coffee breath and musk; almost like he had smoked a cigarette moments before entering the room and washed it down with an americano. His black hair was pinstriped with grey, patterned like a skunks tail and his face was covered in messy prickly looking stubble. His blue eyes were heavily lidded as they searched your face in annoyance, longing for a poor excuse for your short coming with his square glasses braced on the bridge of his slender nose.

“I’m only 3 minutes late—“

“Still. You showed up late to my lecture.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He cuts you off, again.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

You bite your tongue, swallowing your backbone alongside every word you wished to say. As you sunk further into the green plush pillow of the velvet seat beneath you and your clothes slowly dried to be somewhat bearable you felt a heat growing on the back of your head and your mind filled with the inkling that someone was looking at you.

Mustering the strength to look back over your shoulder your breath catches in your throat at the two chestnut eyes that are staring right back at you. Eddie is shameless with his gaze and you fumble beneath it. Your cheeks heat to boiling point and your legs twitch toward the auditorium door; prepared to run, if needed.

Eddie’s lips twitch at the corners and you can tell within that very moment that he is biting back a laugh. It triggers something within you, a spontaneous and contagious response that causes your own shoulders to tremble as you try and contain a chuckle. Normally, you would take a scolding from a lecturer seriously but something about the whole situation humoured you in an abnormal way. You were giggling at something totally mediocre and you blamed Munson.

“What’s so funny, doll?” Your urge to erupt into a fit of laughter like a volcanic explosion subsides and dies quickly as your eyes settle on the male next to you.

Shaggy ringlets fall effortlessly to frame his perfectly blush cheeks and intense blue eyes narrow in on your features, making you retract and become comically still. His eyes were fire in water, filled to the brim with raging anger bubbling below their surface— like a tormented ocean battling against jagged rocks.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy fucking Hargrove had parked his denim clad ass right next to you.

You had heard the things about him. The craze surrounding his reputation. You knew what it was like to have his knuckles fracture your jaw— all because someone had told you about it in explicit detail.

You would never forgive Chrissy for explaining to you in intricate analysis what his dick felt like and what it looked like after their hook up before she sunk her claws into Eddie. She always felt the need to boast about those things to you— to make you feel inferior. And it worked a large majority of the time.

Billy smelt soil-rich with a hint of apple blossom and you found yourself fixated on the dark thickness of his eyebrows. So sharp and clean, like a knife, “Fine, don’t tell me.” He rolls his eyes at you and begins to tap the end of his pencil against the arm of his chair, “Better hope you weren’t laughing at me, though, sweetie.”

“No, I wasn’t laughing at you. I would never— why would I?” You wheeze nervously, your arms crossed over your chest as your finger nails dig into the plush flesh of your bicep.

Billy shrugs his massive meaty shoulders, his crystal like hues focusing on the hints of rain that still lingered in your hair and on your clothes, “You must be freezing, sat there in damp clothes. You want this? I’m not gonna wear it.” You stare doe eyed at the denim jacket he holds clutched tightly in his grasp, his fist outstretched toward you.

You eye him cautiously for a moment, waiting to see if he will withdraw his offer and laugh in your face but he doesn’t. In fact, he smiles at you and now you are left to question every piece of information you thought you knew about Billy.

Shakily, your own fingers wrap around the rough fabric as you take the jacket from him. A burgundy settles on your cheeks and you whisper a meek, “Thank you.” Which Billy only nods in response at.

You know it was just an innocent gesture and that there is no way Billy Hargrove would be remotely interested in you like that but still you couldn’t stop the ridiculous dark colour from painting your cheeks maroon as you slid your arms through the sleeves of his coat. A hushed sigh of relief washes over your body as warmth envelops you kindly.

And as Eddie watched from a few rows behind you, like a stranger looking through someone’s window. He knew. In that very moment, Eddie knew. Every whisper that his heart made that he quickly shut down because he was afraid and foolish. Every beaming smile that nearly split his face in half the moment he saw you from across the room. His sweaty palms and his over protective nature around you. It all finally made sense. Puzzle pieces clicking together effortlessly, almost mocking him with their clarity. He had overlooked them for so long. These signs that all pointed in the same direction; to you.

It angered him. His stupidity, immaturity and ignorance raged him in a way he had never felt before. His fury came like an impossible build up of steam which burnt his insides on its way out. And he deserved it. Every scolding piece of black tar that stuck itself to his flesh.

Anger, sadness, pain— so intertwined that perhaps their names ought to be tweaked to reflect the origins of those emotions. To show their raw authenticity and truth.

Eddie had lied to himself. He had led himself a stray. He had pulled the wool over his own two eyes and completely missed the angel that had been in front of him this entire time. Even when he was in a relationship with Chrissy, he felt that something had shifted that day at the movie theatre. Something unchangeable and unshakeable. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

This was the epiphany. His world stood still and everyone else seemed to fade from his vision into total nothingness as he admired you from afar.

But was he too late to tell you? Did you still feel anything for him? Because from where he was standing, it seemed as if you were ready to move on to someone new. Someone better than he is.

The saddest part was that he just wanted to see you happy. To see you smiling genuinely. For your eyes to light up and scrunch at the corners. For you to be as loved as much as you love others. As much as you loved him.

He had to tell you. Even if it would break his heart to hear you say that you didn’t want him anymore. Even if it felt like he was on the brink of death, walking barefoot along the sharp blade of a lengthy sword. He would bleed for you. He would paint himself scarlet in exchange for your love.

Thunder clapped the sky and lightning lit the murky clouds momentarily with lavender purple as it zapped through the air. Water was still pelting heavily onto the concrete and you dreaded the idea of having to walk 20 minutes to get back home. Classes had flown by and now you were waiting by the large glass exit, staring aimlessly out at how ferocious Mother Nature could truly be. That’s when a shadowy reflection appeared next to you.

“In need of a chariot ride, M’ lady?” As you turn to look over your shoulder you are met with Eddie’s signature Cheshire Cat smile and your heart does leaps and bounds in your chest, “This time around I am totally 100% sober, so the journey should be a pleasant one. No one’s lives are at risk...” Your mind flicks back to the night of his gig and how uncontrollable your powerful feelings multiplied for him. You were reminded of the sour fact that Eddie would never feel this way about you— he wouldn’t feel as tortured as you did with his close proximity. It was agony. Having him so close and yet so far. Your fingertips just out of reach.

Eddie was gazing at you like you were miles away but in reality you're only a few feet in front of him. His stare is hard, intense, but also melting and blank. As if he were on another planet and you somehow were the one who transported him there.

“I would really appreciate that, Ed’s. But only if you’re sure? My house is pretty out of the way…” You were currently living at home with your parents but you had been searching online for apartments closer to the campus grounds, considering you’ll be attending classes for the next three years of your life. Some of which looked as though they were pulled from your wildest dreams. Warm and whimsical. You just had to save up enough for the deposit and luckily you had started work at a close by diner as a waitress. The hourly rate was shitty but the tips were great; especially from the regulars who liked you.

“I would never leave you to walk home in that storm, love. Besides, it’s been a few days since I’ve seen you so I thought we can hang out for a little bit,” You watch as Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down nervously, “I’ll let you pick the music?”

An offer he knew that you couldn’t refuse.

“Even Kate Bush?” You always had a cassette tape of hers in your backpack with your walk-man.

A dramatic pause embraces Eddie.

“Yes. Even Kate Bush.” He offers you a tight lipped smile.

And just like that, you were sold.

It was a torrential race to get to the car without getting totally soaked but once you were both inside you burst into a fit of giggles, laboured breaths filling the small space as you watched the water stream down the front windscreen endlessly, “Wow, it really is chucking it down!” You try to smooth out your rain streaked hair and you tuck it behind your ears, shivering at the mere sight of the trees swaying back and forth with the strong wind. The sound of Eddie clipping in his seat belt draws your attention over to him and you ultimately find yourself unable to look anywhere else. You were a crow to Eddie’s shimmer. A moth to his flame. You were a girl who was freezing a moment ago and now it’s as if sunshine has met your skin and you no longer felt a thing.

“Remember your seatbelt.” Boldly, Eddie decides to reach over your frame and click you securely into the plush passenger seat, his fingers running under the belt across your lap as he pulled the strap tightly over your body. Corseting your into place. His touch lingers near you for a moment and you could have sworn you saw Eddie’s eyes flash with something foreign. Something distant and hidden. But whatever it was, he kept it tucked away.

He killed it.

“Are you warm enough? I can crank this bad boy up a notch if you want.” He plays with the AC thermostat, the tip of his tongue darted out to rest on his bottom lip in total concentration as warm air eventually starts blasting toward you and instantly your tense muscles relax.

“That’s lovely, thank you.” It was already beginning to get dark outside and there was something oddly comforting about listening to the rain pour down onto the metal roof of Eddie’s van as you both sat in total silence with one another. In the low light, just basking in the peace of one another’s presence, “I could stay like this forever.” Your thumbs fumble with each other.

“Yeah,” Your eyes meet his, “Me too, sweetheart.” It was strange to think that one singular persons existence could bring you so much fulfilment and happiness. As you looked at Eddie now, your soul smiled along side your mouth. Everything leading up to this simple moment felt right. Prophesied. Etched into ancient stone. Your love for Eddie would die with you. And even from the grave, you would push up roses that would bloom to spell his name.

“Eddie…” You had been here before. Confessing. Pleading. Rationalising. Chasing. You were sure he would listen this time— you were almost certain that he would actually talk to you about your feelings for him. Maybe his opinions of you had changed. Maybe… maybe he felt the same way.

“Yeah?” Masterfully, Eddie hid the hopeful jitter in his voice. And unfortunately, it was just enough for you to back step fully and keep your thoughts to yourself

“You… you remember where I live, right? I can totally give you directions if not. No biggie.” The three words you longed to say burrowed themselves back down into your chest, your heart spluttering and coughing as they forced their way back inside; where they’d remain for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s chest also tightened with disappointment and devastation. But he had faith, and he knew that the right moment would come. Even if he had to initiate it.

“Of course I do— sort of… maybe? Okay, you may need to direct me a tiny bit.” His index finger and thumb pinch together momentarily to signify the minuscule amount of direction he may need from you and you smile knowingly at him. Content.

“Shall we see to it?” You gesture toward the road.

“We shall.” Eddie grins cockily as he shifts his rust bucket into gear and speeds off into the road, chuckling at the quick intake of breath he hears come from you as you gasp at a nearby car beeping at Eddie’s abrupt merge into traffic, “Relax, I’m a great driver. Promise. I could do this with my eyes closed—“

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal and Eddie’s nose crinkles as he laughs full heartedly beside you.

“Sweetheart, relax!! I would never endanger you like that…” He winks slyly at you and you shake your head with the hugest smile adoring your face. Adrenaline floods your veins from your near panic attack moments ago and you run your fingertips through your damp and tangled hair; slightly stressed.

That’s when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the winged side mirror and your heart plummets quickly to the pit of your stomach. Your mascara had streaked down your face and your hair was a bird nest upon your head from the wind and rain. Your clothes looked tattered and ruined and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t sorted yourself out sooner. Eddie was right next to you and you looked like a hot bag of dogshit.

“You could’ve told me I had mascara under my eyes,” You try to joke it off with a feeble laugh, wiping your fingers furiously across the delicate skin of your under eyes in an attempt to make yourself look half presentable but you knew that this wasn’t an easy fix, “God, I look a mess.” You gnaw on your bottom lip to contain your sudden urge to cry.

“What? No you don’t, not at all!” Eddie’s thick eyebrows knit together on his forehead, “I thought that was the look you were going for, honest! You were rocking it!” Eddie’s attempt to lighten the mood fails and a newfound panic washes over him, “You are beautiful all the same, hon. Cross my heart.” Eddie’s ears are met with a ringing silence as your eyes fixate on the road ahead and he swears in that moment he can hear your heart shatter.

You recognised the street and you knew that your house was now close by. Just a little further. Any minute now you would be able to feel despair openly and free of judgement; all you had to do was make it home and get far away from the curly haired man next to you.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice is so soft, like silk being brushed across your skin as he pulls the van into your driveway. It makes you want to vomit.

“I’ll catch you later, Ed’s.” Your words shake as they leave your throat and you dive from the passenger seat at an alarming speed but Eddie is just as quick to follow after you. Hot on your heels with his engine left grumbling in the distance behind him.

“Wait— please stop!” His ringed fingers hook hastily and strongly around your wrist, stilling your movements as he whips you around to meet his towering frame.

You jerk your arm away from his grasp gently but he remains planted, “Please let me go inside, Eddie,” Your tears mix with the tears falling from the clouds above you and Eddie swallows thickly, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could but his raging heart and the frog in his throat was heavily preventing that, “Please—“

“You need to hear this.” Your dripping lips part in total awe as you watch Eddie become restless in front of you— his inner turmoil mirroring the storm beating down onto the pair of you, “I… fuck.. I..” He grapples with himself and you watch him search frantically for the right words. Eddie wanted this to be perfect. But that’s the thing— he wasn’t perfect. And he would never be perfect.

“Fuck it. Fuck it!!” His inky eyes ignite and suddenly he is so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, “I’m in love with you. I’m so desperately in love with you.”

“There is no perfect lover. We are all flawed, but knowing those flaws and still loving with all of your heart creates perfect love. I will never look further than you. If my heart is a flower waiting to bloom, your love is the only breath of sunshine it needs.” Both of your hands end up rested in Eddie’s palms as his thumbs stroke over each of your knuckles, “I have been foolish. Completely moronic— because I hadn’t noticed this before. I hadn’t acknowledged my own feelings for you. And you don’t have to say anything… but you should know, love.”

You have gone into complete shock. Your limbs feel as though they are weighed down by chunky chains and your throat doesn’t allow you to speak. But your eyes… your eyes are blown to the size of teacup saucers. Gaping open wide.

“I’ve tried to bury it, to push you out, but even the ground beneath me trembles with your name! I love you… I’ve loved you for a long time, I think, and I understand if you no longer feel the same about me. I have left you waiting— I have starved you of love and I only wish you happiness. I want you to be so fucking happy, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. And now you are floating above your body like a ghost trapped between heaven and earth.

“Are… are you sure?” You’re crying now and your vision blurs with the salty water. Your mascara stings your eyes and you have to battle the urge to collapse to your knees in front of him. This is all you have ever wanted for the longest time. You have counted down the milliseconds leading up to this. And now it’s here… and you don’t know if Eddie is being sincere or not.

"You don’t get it, do you? Every time I walk away, the ground pulls me back toward you like I’m tethered to this place, to you!" Eddie let’s go of your hands and you feel like your only form of support has left you defenceless. His heavy black leather boots slap against the concrete as he paces in front of you, “‘Am I sure?’ Of course I am! Of course I’m sure, sweetheart. I am drawn to you in a way that can only be described as witch craft. I am under a spell that I never want to awake from. You are the only person I ever want to talk to— the only person I want to be around. You are all that matters to me. I want to know what you do in the mornings and what perfume you like to wear. I ache to know your every thought and what makes you laugh— and what makes you cry.” Eddie is breathless as his body swoops back toward yours and his palms find your face as he cups your cheeks steadily, his eyes dart all over your face, trying to figure out which part of you he want to set his eyes on the most but it's impossible.

“My heart belongs to you. It always has; I was just too blind to see it. And if you never want to see me again I will respect that. But you had to know.” Eddie breaks down into a sob, the thought alone of losing you causes his heart to crumble into dust inside of his chest, “You had to know that I love you.”

Both of your eyelids fall closed and Eddie rests his soaked forehead against yours. His breathing is erratic and your fingertips cling to the denim his overcoat. Grasping on for dear life, “I love you, Eddie. Oh Eddie, My Eddie— you have no idea how long I have prayed for this moment. To hear those words. Those three fucking words.” You let out a noise that can only be described as half a cry and half a laugh and Eddie joins you, “I love you more than words can explain.”

Eddie recoils his face away from yours and for a moment you are frightened as you watch his expression harden into something more serious, “Sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

And as the words emit past his lips, your worry dissolves into total ecstasy.

“Please— kiss me and never stop.”

You had never imagined this is how your first kiss with Eddie would play out. In your drive way and in the pouring rain. It was beyond perfect. Something that you could watch on a movie screen. The old romance you loved to read about—but this time, it was yours.

Yours and Eddie’s.

You never wanted this fever dream to end; and thankfully, it never had to.

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #beauty is a beast that roars #down on all fours #demanding more #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #chapter talks #chaptersleftunwritten

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its-avalon-08 · 7 months ago

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Hiiiii!! Can I request a daniel ricciardo x driver! reader? Like a grumpy! reader x sunshine! danny? with a hint of friends to lovers but the grid doesn’t know?

I was so excited to see someone open their request and can’t wait to read everythinggggg! Super grateful for the opportunity🫶 may you have a great time writing<3

Ps. It’s totally okay if this doesn’t get a response, I still look forward reading your other works ❤️

she's my grump

the monaco grand prix was always a whirlwind. the air crackled with champagne and exhaust fumes, celebrities swarmed the paddock, and for danny ricciardo, it was pure electric. but amidst the chaos, his gaze always landed on you, his secret weapon – literally and figuratively.

you, (y/n) (l/n), were the engineer who made his car a sleek, purring beast. you were also the complete opposite of him. where danny was sunshine personified, you were a sly smile and a dry wit, a black cat in a room full of golden retrievers. being slightly reserved whilst dating the man with the biggest smile would seem odd to others, but danny loved you in all your light.

"alright team!" danny boomed, his energy radiating as he clapped his hands. "let's make monaco ours!"

you, in redbull uniform, raised an eyebrow. "more coffee, sunshine?" you deadpanned, handing him a steaming mug.

he grinned, taking a swig. "thanks, (y/n). you're a lifesaver." he winked, then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "just remember, if we win, that victory shoey is all yours."

you snorted, a small sound that always tickled danny's heart. "just don't splash champagne on me and make sure you don't scratch the car."

he chuckled, leaning closer. "don't worry, love. i wouldn't dream of it." the last word was barely a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. you were dating for a few months now, a secret you both fiercely guarded. it wasn't because you were ashamed, rather it was to protect both of your personal lives. you had been friends for seven years and dating for one year. all the other drivers loved you and saw you as a little sister. being the polar opposite of daniel, everyone thought you were a match made in heaven.

flashback

the cityscape of singapore twinkled below, a kaleidoscope of neon against the inky night. danny, relaxed after a podium finish, leaned against the balcony railing, a beer balanced precariously in his hand. you perched on a nearby chair, fiddling with a stray napkin. six years of friendship, countless late-night talks, and a simmering desire that threatened to boil over. tonight, you were determined to make a move.

"crazy race, right?" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. you hated how nervous you felt around him, a stark contrast to your usual sharp wit.

danny chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "yeah, those final laps were a heart-stopper. but hey, at least i didn't get sandwiched between bottas and verstappen this time."

you managed a smile. "true. though, witnessing your car-handling skills under pressure is always a treat for the eyes." a teasing lilt crept into your voice, the one that usually made him laugh. but tonight, he just raised an eyebrow, his gaze holding yours.

"so," you continued, feeling a familiar heat creep up your cheeks, "about that victory dinner tomorrow night..."

"yeah?" he prompted, taking a swig of his beer.

"well, i was thinking, maybe we could..." you trailed off, the carefully rehearsed words dissolving on your tongue. frustration bubbled within you. why was this so hard?

"maybe we could what?" danny asked gently, his voice laced with a hint of concern.

you squeezed the napkin in your hand, the flimsy paper threatening to tear. "forget it. it's stupid."

"hey," danny said, setting his beer down and turning to face you fully. his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now soft and serious. "nothing you say is stupid, (y/n)."

you looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. "except maybe what i was about to say."

a beat of silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions. you felt a tear prick your eye, the frustration morphing into a strange mix of despair and defiance.

"look, danny," you blurted out, your voice shaky, "we've been friends for, what, six years now? we practically share a brain when it comes to the car. but lately... lately, things feel different."

he stepped closer, his presence a tangible warmth in the cool night air. "different how?"

you took a shaky breath. "i don't know how to say this. it's stupid, really. but..." you met his gaze, your voice barely audible, "i think i might be falling for you."

the words hung heavy in the air. a flicker of surprise crossed danny's face, then a slow smile spread across his lips. it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"you think?" he said, his voice a husky whisper. he cupped your face in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eye.

"maybe," you mumbled, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

before you could say anything else, danny closed the gap between you. his kiss was soft, tentative at first, then deepened with a newfound urgency. it was a kiss filled with unspoken desires, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. you melted into him, the familiar warmth of his friendship now tinged with a passionate intensity that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you could hear the ragged rhythm of his breath.

"i think i might be falling for you too, (y/n)," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "a lot more than maybe."

a laugh, shaky but genuine, escaped your lips. relief washed over you, mingled with a newfound sense of joy. in the neon glow of singapore night, under the watchful gaze of a million twinkling stars, you knew this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

end of flashback

the qualifying session was a nail-biter. you watched from the pit wall, your fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm against the table. danny caught your eye, flashed a reassuring smile, and then was off, a blur of blue and red. when he secured pole position, the team erupted.

in the celebratory chaos, danny spotted you amidst the throng, a lone island of calm amidst the cheering. he weaved his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you. reaching you, he bent down slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

"ready to celebrate, ms. genius ?" he asked, extending his hand.

you smirked, a playful jab back. "only if it involves avoiding exuberant displays of footwear."

he laughed, a sound that always warmed your heart. "no promises, love," he winked, then surprised you. his hand, instead of taking yours, brushed yours lightly, his pinky extending out and interlocking with yours.

you knew what it meant. a silent exchange in your secret language. a small gesture, easily missed by others, but to you, it was a secret handshake, a whispered affirmation in the middle of the storm. your own pinky curled around his, a silent promise. being a black cat dating the biggest golden retriever

the race was a heart-stopper. strategy calls crackled through your earpiece, fueling your anxiety. finally, the checkered flag fell, and danny emerged victorious. the roar of the crowd was deafening.

as danny jumped out of the car, his helmet still on, he scanned the crowd. his eyes met yours, and a wide grin split his face. he sprinted towards you, the cameras flashing around you. but he ignored them all, reaching you and scooping you into a tight hug.

"we did it, (y/n)!" he shouted, his voice muffled by your silky hair.

you hugged him back tightly, a surge of relief and pride washing over you. in that moment, under the watchful eyes of the oblivious crowd, you knew your secret weapon wasn't just the science behind the car. it was the sunshine-haired driver with whom you shared a silent language, a pinky promise, and a love that thrived even in the whirlwind of monaco.

the other drivers, who had long suspected something between you two, exchanged knowing glances. lewis hamilton raised a knowing eyebrow at max verstappen. "looks like ricciardo found his lucky charm," he remarked.

max just grinned. "more like his secret weapon."

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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emthimofnight · 10 months ago

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Name ✨Stellar the Hedgehog✨

Age Varies based on what age I draw her, but let's say 16!

Pronouns She/Her

Basic Description The product of Project Stellar—a secret government operation aiming to perfect Project Shadow—Stellar is a genetic experiment combining the DNA of the Ultimate Life Form and the fastest thing alive. Designed to be a living weapon, Stellar was born in a hidden facility where she would have been raised to be an unstoppable weapon for the military. Thankfully, Shadow the Hedgehog (with help from Rouge the Bat) discovered her existence, destroyed the lab, and rescued her as an infant. Shadow then went on to begrudgingly inform his long-time rival, Sonic the Hedgehog, of their newfound child, seeing as she was technically just as much Sonic's problem as she was Shadow's. From there, the duo (along with help from their friends) raised Stellar as their daughter, sheltering her from the knowledge she was created to be a force of destruction for her masters. Along the way, Sonic and Shadow found themselves truly falling for one another, dissolving the barriers they had placed between one another as rivals, finding new appreciation for each other in their new parental roles.

Stellar herself is a bright, warm-hearted person. She has a strong sense of justice and never shies away from standing up for what is right. She takes after Sonic in personality, always cracking jokes and finding it hard to sit still. Despite this, she inherited Shadow's finesse and ability to plan out her choices, not to mention his abilities to utilize chaos energy. She has a love for figure skating, ballet, and make up (thanks to Auntie Rouge!), but don't let her feminine side fool you, she is not afraid to get her hands dirty! She would love nothing more than to spend her day smashing badniks into the ground with her skates if her dads would let her! Stellar loves both of her parents dearly, but sometimes wishes that they wouldn't be so protective of her. After all, what could they possibly have to be worried about?

Extra ✨Stellar's favorite color is red. ✨Her favorite food is chili dogs. ✨She is bisexual. ✨Her favorite flower is lavender, because it reminds her of home! ✨She learned how to skate from Shadow. ✨She calls Shadow "papa" and Sonic "dad". ✨She desperately wants to make her family and friends proud. ✨Her best friend is Camellia the Cat, the daughter of Blaze and Amy. ✨She loves racing Sonic, but is frustrated he always lets her win. ✨She can be VERY impulsive when angered, much like both of her parents! ✨She is SUPER dense when it comes to romance. She has no idea ✨Camellia has been in love with her since they were little! ✨The inhibitor rings she wears keep her powers under control, but they also prevent her from truly mastering them. ✨Her powers are designed after collapsing stars/black holes. Extremely destructive to both herself and everything around her. ✨She has no awareness to the extent of the latent power inside her.

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kiwriteswords · 2 months ago

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Between Almost and Always

AN: This one got away from me! I meant for it to be, like...a few thousand words, but now we're at over 10k...so...

Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

Word Count: 14.2k !!

Rating: Mature

Tags/TW: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, angst, fluff, kinda fade-to-black smut, read-between-the-lines-smut, happy ending...but it takes some time to get there!

Summary: You and Aaron Hotchner share a bond that runs deeper than either of you dares to acknowledge. Caught between the demands of the BAU and the unspoken pull toward each other, you both struggle to balance your feelings with the fears that keep you apart. As fate and duty continue to intervene, Hotch's silent sacrifices and your unrelenting hope create a tension that neither time nor distance can dissolve, leaving you both to wonder if love will ever break through the almosts and become an always.

The BAU had been your home for as long as you could remember. The team wasn't just a collection of brilliant minds and seasoned agents—they were your family. Together, you moved through darkness, confronting the most twisted parts of humanity. You learned to trust each other with more than just your lives; you entrusted one another with your secrets, your flaws, your fears.

And then, there was Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch was more than just your boss; he was the still center of the storm that raged around you all. He was the steady force that pulled you back when the horrors of the world threatened to consume you. You could always find him standing in the eye of the chaos, unyielding and calm, eyes that spoke of experience, wisdom, and a profound sadness he rarely allowed anyone to see.

But with you, he was different.

From the start, there was something unspoken between you—a magnetic pull that neither of you dared to acknowledge, yet both of you felt with every fiber of your being. It was in the way his eyes lingered just a heartbeat too long, the softening of his voice when he said your name and the brief touches that seemed to hold entire conversations in their warmth.

In quiet moments, when the rest of the world faded, you’d find yourself stealing glances at him, and he'd catch you, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly as if you were sharing a secret no one else could understand. You knew there was something more—something that danced just beyond the reach of words, beyond logic and reason. A bond that went deeper than friendship, stronger than mere attraction. Yet despite the simmering undercurrent, despite all the things you never said, the timing was never right.

Hotch had always been a man of unwavering principle. After Haley’s death, he’d sworn to himself that he would never let his personal life interfere with his work. The guilt he carried from losing her was a shadow that darkened even his brightest moments. It wasn't just the fear of losing someone he cared about—it was the dread of watching the life he touched crumble under the weight of his own demons. He vowed to protect those he loved by keeping them at a distance, believing that his presence was a curse rather than a gift.

But you slipped through his defenses, inch by inch. You, with your unwavering loyalty, your quiet strength, your ability to see straight through his carefully constructed walls. You were the one who saw the Aaron behind the Agent, the man behind the mask. The way you looked at him—like he was not just the leader of your team but a man worthy of being loved—made something inside him soften, something he thought he'd lost long ago.

And maybe that was why he yearned for you. Because you made him believe in a life, he thought was no longer possible for him. You made him dream of stolen moments in a world that wasn’t constantly closing in on him, of lazy Sunday mornings and the warmth of a hand that never let go.

But he was afraid. Afraid that the darkness within him would eventually touch you, hurt you, consume the light you brought into his world. He convinced himself that walking away was the only way to protect you, even if it meant tearing himself apart.

There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you—a silent thread that bound you to Hotch from the moment you joined the BAU. It was the kind of connection that didn’t need words, a gravity that even the team couldn’t ignore.

JJ, ever the quiet observer, would offer you soft smiles of encouragement, always ready to be your confidante if you ever chose to cross that invisible line.

Morgan, on the other hand, would tease with that trademark grin of his, throwing out playful jabs to lighten the weight of the tension, hoping his humor might just snap the taut string between you and Hotch.

Penelope, never one to miss the signs of a budding romance, was less subtle—her eyes practically sparkling with mischief each time she saw you together.

But it was Reid’s comments that surprised you the most; when even he, with his logical mind, started to speak of soulmates and fated bonds, you knew the connection between you and Hotch wasn’t just something in your head—it was written all over your lives for everyone to see.

It was Seattle, but it could have been anywhere. The rain fell in that relentless way it does in the Pacific Northwest as if the sky itself was unburdening its sorrows. The case had been brutal, a sickening reminder of the cruelty humans are capable of, and though you were all seasoned in darkness, this one had taken a toll on the team.

The unsub had left behind a trail of devastation, each victim a silent cry for help that no one had answered in time. You’d felt it gnaw at your spirit, the failure, the grief, the knowledge that no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t save them all. The team had dispersed after the long hours of paperwork, retreating to their rooms, each of them carrying the weight in their own way.

But you and Aaron Hotchner—you never went to your rooms. You both sought out the solace of the hotel bar, that quiet space where the world could blur at the edges, where reality was softened by the amber glow of dim lights and the low hum of meaningless conversation. You sat side by side, both of you holding drinks you barely touched, more for the comfort of their warmth than the promise of their escape.

Hotch looked different in the dim light—more human somehow, less like the unshakeable leader who never flinched in the face of terror. The lines etched in his face seemed deeper, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. He was a man who carried the world on his shoulders, and tonight, it was almost too much to bear.

You’d been through enough with him to know that silence was sometimes the best language, that the quiet between you could speak volumes. You didn’t need to fill the air with words because everything you could have said was already there, in the spaces between your breaths, in the way your hands rested on the bar, inches apart but worlds away.

Then, in a voice that was softer than the rain outside, you said, "Aaron."

It was the first time you’d called him that—not Hotch, not sir—just Aaron. His name felt like an invocation, a secret on your tongue, like you were stepping across a line that you could never uncross. His name tasted like honesty, like the beginnings of something that had been simmering for so long you’d almost convinced yourself it was only in your imagination.

In this moment, you knew everything you wanted to say--all of those stolen looks, touches, and feelings that were so powerful between you two--was written all over your face. Written so clearly not even a profiler was needed to decipher your looks. Yet, here he was, the best known to man.

He turned to you, and in his eyes, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the armor, the man who had been shaped and scarred by his past. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause; the weight of a thousand unspoken words filled the air between you.

"Sometimes, I think about how different things might be if I wasn’t who I am," he said, his voice barely a whisper, like he was afraid the confession might break something sacred between you.

He wasn't just talking about the job; he was talking about the man he had become because of it. The man who had lost his wife, who carried the guilt of her death like a second skin. The man who was both the protector and the prisoner of his own choices. You knew what he meant because you had seen it in his eyes so many times before, that yearning for a life untouched by tragedy, a life where he could love without fear, without the shadows of the past lurking in the background.

You opened your mouth to tell him that none of it mattered to you—that you’d take him as he was, battle-scarred and beautiful, that you’d hold every shattered piece of him and never let go. You were ready to say that you didn't need him to be anything but himself, that you’d seen all his flaws and loved him not despite them, but because of them.

But then, his phone buzzed, its vibration cutting through the fragile moment like a knife. You saw the shift in his eyes, the way the warmth turned to a kind of resigned acceptance. It was Jack, his son, his anchor to the real world. Jack was the reason Hotch still fought and still believed in goodness even when everything around him suggested otherwise.

He looked at you, and in his gaze, there was a depth of regret that you felt in your bones. An apology for the life he couldn’t lead, the words he couldn’t say. An unspoken I wish things were different, echoing louder than any spoken declaration ever could.

You forced a smile, swallowing the ache in your throat. "Go," you said gently. "He needs you."

And as he stood to leave, his hand brushed yours, a touch so fleeting yet so full of longing that it nearly undid you. It was the softest of goodbyes, a promise wrapped in sorrow. You watched him walk away, the rain outside blurring into streaks against the window, and all you could think was that love wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like reaching out in the dark, only to find that the light you’d longed for had slipped through your fingers once more.

You were left sitting there, alone in the bar that smelled faintly of smoke and regret, with the knowledge that sometimes the cruelest thing about love is knowing it exists but remains just out of reach. You knew, even then, that no matter how many almosts there were between you, fate would always find a way to keep you apart.

Because Aaron Hotchner was a man bound by duty and sacrifice, and you were a dream he could never quite allow himself to have.

From that quiet night in the Seattle hotel bar, time seemed to stretch out like a thin, fraying thread—pulling taut with every stolen glance, every touch that lingered just a second too long. You and Hotch fell back into the rhythm of your work, the familiar dance of chasing monsters and saving lives. Yet, something between you had shifted, a barely perceptible change that echoed louder than words.

In the weeks and months that followed, you found yourself noticing the small things—how Hotch would watch over you during tense moments in the field, his eyes always tracking your movements as if to ensure you were safe. The way his hand would brush against yours as he passed you a file, the touch so brief and unintentional, yet burning like a brand. There were times, in the quiet of the bullpen, when you’d look up from your desk to find him already watching you, his gaze softening in a way that he never let slip when anyone else was around.

You tried to convince yourself that you were imagining it, that you were reading too much into the way his voice grew softer when he spoke to you, or the way he always seemed to stand just a little too close. But then there were moments that shattered that illusion—like when your laughter would ring out in the middle of a tough day, and his eyes would light up, his guarded expression slipping for a fraction of a second, as if you were the only thing in the room he could see. The unspoken words hung between you like stars on a cloudy night, visible yet just out of reach, a constellation of almosts that never entirely formed a complete picture.

And through it all, you both remained silent, bound by your own hesitations, afraid to name what was so painfully obvious. For Hotch, the shadows of his past and the weight of his responsibilities were chains that held him back, making him believe that to love you was to invite disaster into your life. He buried his feelings under layers of duty and self-sacrifice, convincing himself that he was doing it for your sake, that by keeping his distance, he was somehow protecting you from the darkness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

So you carried on, both pretending that the universe hadn't already decided for you—that fate hadn't already entwined your lives in a way that neither of you could untangle. And yet, as much as you tried to ignore it, there were those fleeting moments when the world seemed to fade away, and all that was left was the space between you—the space that felt like both a chasm and a promise, waiting for one of you to be brave enough to cross it.

It was in that aching silence that the night at Rossi’s found you, once again surrounded by your team, the people who could see more clearly than you could what was hidden in plain sight. And though you tried to bury the truth, to tuck your feelings into the corner of your heart where they couldn’t hurt you, you knew. You both knew. The gravity that pulled you toward each other was unyielding, relentless—a force that neither time nor circumstance could weaken, even if it was never enough to bring you fully together.

The evening at Rossi’s had a kind of stillness that only follows a storm. The team had just closed the book on a case that left its mark, one of those that burrowed under your skin and lingered in your thoughts long after it was over. The shadows of the day seemed to melt into the twilight as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Fireflies blinked like tiny lanterns, and the warm breeze carried the scent of pine and summer grass.

The team was scattered across Rossi’s backyard, laughter ringing out beneath the string lights that swayed gently in the evening air. You were there, surrounded by your found family, your laughter rising above the hum of cicadas, infectious and free, as Garcia told some outrageous story that made you double over with mirth. Your joy was like sunlight breaking through the clouds, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed lighter.

Aaron Hotchner stood on the outskirts of the gathering, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hand, his eyes fixed on you. He didn’t join in the laughter, but his expression had softened, the hard edges of his face smoothed out by the glow of the setting sun. There was something in the way he looked at you—something almost tender as if he were memorizing the way you threw your head back when you laughed, the way your eyes crinkled with genuine delight. At that moment, he wasn’t SSA Aaron Hotchner, leader of the BAU; he was just a man standing at the edge of a life he wished he could have.

Morgan, always the perceptive one, followed Hotch’s gaze, shaking his head with a knowing smile. He stepped closer, clapping a hand on Hotch’s shoulder, breaking the spell for just a second.

"Man, you’re hopeless," Morgan said with a chuckle that was both amused and sympathetic. "We all see it. You look at her like she’s the only thing that matters. When are you gonna do something about it?"

Hotch’s eyes never left you, but the smile that touched his lips was small and tinged with sadness—a bittersweet acknowledgment of everything he wanted but couldn’t have. His voice was quiet, almost resigned, as he finally spoke. "I can’t, Derek," he said, his words heavy with a truth he could never quite shake. "She deserves more than the life I can offer her right now. She deserves someone who can give her the world, not a man whose world is constantly at risk of falling apart."

The admission was laced with more than just sorrow—it was drenched in regret, a painful awareness that his love for you would never be enough to protect you from the darkness that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Hotch knew better than anyone that love wasn’t just about wanting someone; it was about knowing what you could give them in return. And he feared that all he had to offer was a life shadowed by danger, weighed down by the ghosts of every case that stole another piece of his soul.

Morgan opened his mouth to argue, to tell him that love didn’t wait for the perfect moment or the perfect person, but he stopped himself. He knew that when it came to matters of the heart, Aaron Hotchner was a fortress of caution and restraint, too afraid to let the cracks show, too afraid to believe he could have something beautiful that might one day break.

And you—you didn’t hear the words exchanged between them, but you felt the gravity of Hotch’s gaze, that unguarded moment when his eyes met yours across the yard. It was the kind of look that pierced right through the armor you both wore, a silent confession in the space between heartbeats. He looked at you like you were the axis his world revolved around, like every laugh, every smile you gave, was a flicker of light in his otherwise dark universe.

Your breath hitched at the intensity of his stare, and for a split second, you thought that maybe—just maybe—he might finally cross the line he’d drawn so carefully between the two of you. But then, as always, you saw that familiar wall go back up, the flicker of vulnerability snuffed out by the burden of his unspoken promises and his own fears.

You turned away, laughter still ringing in your ears, but your heart was heavy with a sadness that you couldn't quite shake. You knew he was holding back not because he didn’t care but because he cared too much. And it ached, that knowledge—that you were both standing in your own way, two people reaching out from opposite sides of a canyon that life and circumstance had carved between you.

As you walked away, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back, a tether that pulled at you even as you drifted further apart. You wanted to turn back, to tell him that you didn’t need the world or some perfect life. All you needed was him—flawed, guarded, and broken in all the ways that mattered. But you knew he wouldn’t believe you, wouldn’t let himself believe that he could be someone’s happiness without also being their ruin.

And so, you let the moment pass, another almost in a series of almosts, knowing that sometimes love wasn’t about grand gestures or perfect endings. Sometimes, it was about the quiet moments in between, the ones where two souls recognized each other even when they were too afraid to meet halfway.

After that evening at Rossi’s backyard, the dynamic between you and Hotch seemed to settle into an unbearable kind of stillness, a delicate balancing act of emotions held just beneath the surface.

He’d let his guard down for a fleeting moment, letting you glimpse the ache he tried so hard to hide, only to pull it back up as if regretting that he’d ever let it slip.

You went back to the familiar routine of the BAU, solving cases and chasing unsubs, but something between you both had shifted—like a door that had been cracked open only to be slammed shut again. Each day felt like another opportunity slipping away; another chance lost to the silence of everything that went unsaid. The weight of his unspoken words hung in the air, suffocating, and you could feel time pressing in on you like a vice, the years ticking by with no promise of change.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe this was all it would ever be—glances that lingered too long and conversations that always stopped just short of the truth.

So when a kind, reliable man came into your life, someone who was willing to build a future without hesitation, you let yourself be swept into the idea of a relationship that wasn’t built on waiting.

You told yourself you couldn’t spend your life pining for a man who stood so close yet always seemed miles away, a man who looked at you like you were his entire world but still refused to reach out and hold it.

And with that, you let go—at least on the surface—even though a part of you would always belong to the moments you’d shared with Aaron Hotchner, the almosts that could never quite become enough.

The day you started seeing someone new was the day you felt the invisible thread between you and Hotch snap—an agonizing, almost audible break in the connection that had always existed between you.

You hadn’t planned on it happening like this, hadn’t intended for your heart to be caught between what could never be and what felt like a practical choice. But you were in your late twenties, and the ticking clock of your life seemed to grow louder with each passing year. You wanted a family, stability, a love that wasn’t constantly waiting in the shadows, and when he came along—a man who was kind, steady, and good on paper—you thought, maybe this was what you needed.

The team noticed almost immediately. You’d see their eyes dart toward Hotch whenever you mentioned your new boyfriend, a flicker of sympathy crossing their faces as if they knew what was happening but didn’t dare voice it. You tried to ignore it, tried to convince yourself that you were doing the right thing, that this man who wasn’t Aaron Hotchner was exactly what you needed to build a life you could actually count on.

But Hotch—he changed in a way you never expected. The warmth that used to live in his eyes when he looked at you vanished, replaced by something colder, something that felt like stone. He started keeping his distance, treating you with the same detached professionalism he gave to the world outside of the BAU. The touches that once lingered were gone, the secret smiles erased as if they’d never existed. He barely spoke to you unless it was about a case, his words clipped and precise, stripped of any softness.

It was a cruel irony, really. The more you tried to move on, the further he pulled away, until it felt like the bond you’d shared—the bond that had carried you through late-night stakeouts and whispered conversations in empty corridors—had disappeared entirely. It was as though the universe had taken back every promise it had silently made between the two of you.

One evening, you caught him watching you across the bullpen as you spoke on the phone with your boyfriend, your voice soft and your laughter genuine, or at least you tried to make it sound that way. You could feel Hotch’s gaze burning into you, a raw, aching sadness in his eyes, but there was something else too—something darker, twisted with regret and jealousy.

He turned away before you could meet his gaze, his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck tight with restraint. And later, when you tried to approach him, to bridge the widening chasm between you, he was cold, distant in a way that sliced right through you. His answers were short, his tone indifferent, as if you were just another colleague, just another piece in the puzzle he had to solve.

“Hotch,” you said one evening when the distance between you became too much to bear, when you needed to understand why he’d turned his back on you so completely. “Why are you shutting me out?”

He looked at you then, his eyes hardened, his face a mask of stoic control, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something that looked like hurt. "I'm not shutting you out," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I respect your choice. You made it clear that you’re moving on, and I’m just...following your lead."

The words stung more than you thought they would, like a slap to the face disguised as an apology. You wanted to scream that it wasn’t about moving on—it was about not being able to wait forever, not being able to live in this limbo of almosts and what-ifs--That you were tired of loving a man who wouldn’t allow himself to be loved back.

How could you move on when he could never take the leap of faith to even admit he felt what you were feeling so deeply inside.

But you couldn’t say those things to him. Because deep down, you knew that your new relationship was a compromise, a safety net you’d cast beneath your heart to keep it from breaking any further. This man you were seeing—he was everything you thought you should want. He was stable, he was kind, he was willing to build a future. But he wasn’t Aaron Hotchner.

And maybe that was the cruelest part of it all—knowing that no matter how hard you tried to move forward, your heart would always circle back to him, to the man who stood just out of reach, the man who’d chosen duty and sacrifice over a chance at happiness. The man who watched you from the shadows, yearning for a love he could never let himself have.

You turned away, feeling the weight of his gaze on your back, the ghost of what you could have been haunting every step you took. And as you walked out of the bullpen, you couldn’t shake the feeling that with every step you took towards a life without him, you were leaving a part of yourself behind—the part that knew, no matter how good on paper anyone else might be, they would never be Aaron Hotchner.

The offer came quietly, slipped into Hotch's hands like a whisper of a storm—an undercover mission, months long, treacherous, the kind that could pull a person so deep into darkness that they might never find their way out. It was the sort of assignment that made sense for a man like him, a man who thrived on control and strategy, who was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to keep the world safe, even if it meant losing pieces of himself in the process.

You heard the news from someone else, the rumors swirling through the BAU like a slow poison. Hotch hadn’t come to you, hadn’t even asked for your opinion or told you he was considering it, and that omission cut deeper than any of his words ever could. When you finally confronted him, it was late in the evening, the bullpen mostly empty, and the quiet hum of the building seemed to amplify the anger simmering just beneath your skin.

"You’re really going to do this?" you demanded, your voice trembling more from hurt than from anger. "You’re considering risking your life on a months-long mission without even telling me? Without asking how I feel about it?"

He looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his face before it quickly hardened into that mask of stoic control he wore so well. "It’s my job," he said simply, his tone cold and clipped as if that were all the explanation you needed. "I don’t need anyone’s permission to do my job."

"That’s not the point, and you know it," you snapped, the frustration boiling over now, your hands shaking. "This is about you making a decision that could get you killed without even thinking to talk to me about it. Do I really mean that little to you?"

For a moment, something vulnerable flashed in his eyes, a crack in the armor that you almost thought might break open, but then he shut it down, shut you out. His face hardened, and when he spoke, his words were like ice—sharp and cutting, each one landing like a blow.

"You have someone else in your life now," he said, the bitterness in his voice barely concealed. "Why would my decisions matter to you? You made your choice to move on, to be with someone who can give you what I can’t. I’m just following your lead, remember?"

You stared at him, disbelief turning to anger, your voice trembling with the force of emotions that you could no longer hold back.

"My choice?" you repeated, the words laced with bitterness and hurt. "How can you stand there and talk about my choice when you never even gave me the chance to choose you? You kept me at arm’s length, Aaron. You decided from the start that I didn’t get a say in this—in us. Every time I got close, you shut me out before I could even show you that you were the one I wanted."

The raw honesty in your voice cut through the air, and you could see the moment the truth of it struck him, a flicker of pain crossing his face, but he said nothing. He just stood there, silent, letting the distance grow between you like he always had, because it was easier to act like he was protecting you than to admit that he was protecting himself.

"You need to stop looking at me like I’m something I’m not," he continued, his voice steady but softer, almost as if he were pleading with you to understand. "I’m not the man you want me to be, and I’m done pretending like I could ever be enough for you. I’m going on this mission because that’s where I belong—in the field, doing something useful. And maybe when I’m gone, you’ll finally stop waiting for something that was never going to happen."

You stood there, stunned, the sting of his words ringing in your ears. It was like he’d taken everything between you—all the almosts, all the shared glances and whispered moments—and tossed it aside, reducing it to nothing. He was pushing you away, cutting the ties that bound you both, but not because he didn’t care. He was doing it because he cared too much because it was easier for him to hurt you now than to let himself believe in a future that could never exist.

"Fine," you said, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to hold it together. "Go on your mission, Aaron. If it’s so easy for you to walk away, then maybe you’re right. Maybe I was wrong about everything."

He flinched at that, just barely, a shadow of pain flickering across his face before he forced it away. He gave you a stiff nod, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break, and then he looked at you with those dark eyes that used to hold a world of unspoken words, now empty and closed off.

"It’s better this way," he said, but the words sounded hollow, even to him. "For both of us."

He turned back to his desk, the finality of it crashing down between you like a wall that could never be scaled. And in that moment, you knew—you knew that he’d made up his mind, not just about the mission but about the two of you. The bond that had once felt unbreakable was now shattered, the pieces scattered like ash in the wind.

As you walked away, your vision blurred with unshed tears; you couldn’t shake the image of him sitting there, rigid and unmoving, the weight of his own choices pressing down on his shoulders. You knew that this wasn’t just a job to him—it was his way of escaping, of punishing himself for wanting something he thought he didn’t deserve. And maybe, in the end, it was easier for him to go on that mission, to risk his life in a world of shadows, than to face the light of what he could have had with you.

And as he watched you leave, he knew he was making the only choice he thought he could live with—the choice that meant hurting you now to save you from the heartbreak he was certain he’d cause later. So he resolved to go on that mission, to bury himself in the danger and the darkness, where feelings didn’t complicate things and yearning for something he could never have didn’t make him feel so much like a man who’d lost his way.

In the aftermath of the confrontation, the tension between you and Hotch became palpable--especially leading up to his departure--a crackling silence that echoed through the bullpen.

The rest of the team felt the shift immediately; they had seen the glances that used to pass between the two of you, the unspoken words that lingered in the air, and now, the cold distance that had replaced it was impossible to ignore.

Morgan was the first to approach Hotch. He found him in his office, staring out the window as if searching for answers that would never come. “Hotch,” Morgan said, his voice softer than usual, no trace of the teasing smirk he usually wore when talking about you. “You know you’re screwing this up, right? Whatever you think you’re doing to protect her, all you’re doing is pushing her away. And from what I’ve seen, she didn’t want protection—she wanted you.”

Hotch didn’t turn around. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, his shoulders tense, jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple, Derek,” he replied, his voice a low rumble of frustration and resignation. “I’m not the man she needs. She has someone who can give her a real future, not just a life spent waiting for me to come back in one piece. She deserves more than this.”

Hotch was just as surprised to hear his honesty come out to Morgan, as Morgan was surprised to hear the vulnerability pour out of Hotch.

Morgan let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Man, you’re lying to yourself if you think this is for her sake. You’re afraid of getting hurt, of losing something else that matters. But you can’t live your whole life like that, Hotch. You’re gonna lose her either way if you keep this up.”

Down the hall, hours later, there was a different conversation happening with you. As you sat there in the break room, the warmth of Garcia’s hug lingering on your shoulders, doubt started to creep into your thoughts like a slow-moving fog. You bit your lip, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup, trying to steady the swirl of emotions that threatened to pull you under.

“Maybe he’s right,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “Maybe I’m just fooling myself. What if I’ve been making something out of nothing this whole time? What if he never felt the same, and I’m just… delusional?” You laughed, but it was a hollow, shaky sound that betrayed the insecurity you’d been fighting to keep at bay. “I feel like I’m going crazy, holding onto every little look and touch like they mean something when maybe they never did.”

JJ’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to cover your trembling hands with her own. “You’re not crazy,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “I’ve known Hotch for a long time, and I’ve seen him shut everyone out, even when he didn’t have to. But with you—it’s different. He lets you in more than he ever has with anyone else. He cares about you in a way he doesn’t know how to handle.”

Emily, who had been listening quietly until now, leaned forward, her expression a mix of frustration and compassion. “Hotch isn’t the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve,” she said, her tone sharp with conviction. “He’s terrified of getting close to someone and then losing them. But trust me, we’ve all seen it—the way he looks at you, the way he lights up when you walk into a room, even if he tries to hide it. He’s not fooling anyone but himself.”

Garcia nodded fiercely, her eyes blazing with determination. “Honey, you are not crazy,” she insisted, shaking her head. “He has feelings for you, and we all know it. He’s just too stubborn and scared to admit it to himself, let alone to you. That man looks at you like you’re the reason he keeps breathing. If he’s pretending he doesn’t care, it’s because he’s protecting his own heart, not because there’s nothing there.”

You felt the tears welling up, but this time, they weren’t just from the hurt. It was the relief of knowing that maybe—just maybe—you hadn’t been imagining things. That all those lingering glances, the stolen moments, the softness in his eyes when he thought no one was looking, they were real. You weren’t crazy, and you weren’t alone in this.

“But what if he never lets himself admit it?” you asked, your voice breaking, the vulnerability laid bare before them. “What if I’m just waiting for something that’s never going to happen?”

JJ squeezed your hand a little tighter, her smile gentle but determined. “He’s afraid, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost to you. He’s hurting, and he’s hiding, but deep down, he feels it too. Sometimes, the right thing is the hardest thing to do. But he’s worth fighting for, and you are worth more than settling for half-truths and what-ifs.”

Garcia nodded in agreement, and Emily reached out, her hand warm on your shoulder, grounding you. “You’re not crazy for loving him,” Emily said softly. “He’s just scared of letting himself love you back. But one thing’s for sure—we’re not letting you give up on yourself, and we’re not letting you give up on him without a fight.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding, the tightness in your chest easing just a little. Because if they could see it—if the people who knew Aaron Hotchner better than almost anyone else believed in his feelings for you—then maybe, just maybe, there was still hope. Even if he was too afraid to see it, even if he was about to walk away, you weren’t as alone in this as you thought.

Hotch left quietly, like a whisper that faded into the darkness before you even realized he was gone. One moment he was there, stoic and silent in the bullpen, his eyes never quite meeting yours, and the next, he was just...gone. There was no goodbye, no last look, no chance to say what you’d been holding onto for so long. Just an empty desk, a hollow ache in your chest, and the knowledge that he’d chosen to walk away without a word.

You found out from Rossi, of all people, his expression grim yet resigned as he broke the news that Hotch had accepted the mission. The words felt like they echoed in slow motion, each syllable another crack in the fragile hope you’d clung to. Hotch had left for the dangerous undercover mission without telling you, without even giving you the courtesy of a goodbye. The hurt was immediate and sharp, slicing through the fragile shield you’d built around your heart.

He hadn’t come to see you, hadn’t given you a chance to plead with him to stay, and you knew why. Deep down, you knew that if he saw you one last time if he let himself look into your eyes filled with all that unsaid love, he wouldn’t be able to leave. He was running from the feelings he couldn’t control, from the bond that scared him more than any danger in the field ever could. He was a man who would rather face death head-on than confront the possibility of losing you.

But knowing his reasons didn’t dull the pain. It hurt like hell, like a betrayal you couldn’t shake. It felt like he’d taken the easy way out, choosing the mission over you because that was simpler because that was what he knew how to do. It felt like he was giving up on everything you’d never quite let yourself believe in.

That night, when you sat across from your boyfriend, the man who had tried so hard to make you happy, you felt a heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t ignore. He was everything you thought you should want—steady, dependable, willing to build a life with you without hesitation. But he wasn’t Aaron Hotchner, and that truth settled into your bones like the weight of something that could never be lifted.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, the words heavy with exhaustion and resignation, your voice cracking under the strain of holding yourself together. “It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me. You’re a good man, and you deserve someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.”

He looked at you, confusion and sadness clouding his eyes, and though he tried to mask it, you could see the hurt there. “I thought we were building something real,” he said softly, the disappointment lacing his words. “Was it always him?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, to say that it wasn’t about Hotch, but the words died on your lips because that would have been a lie. Even though Hotch had walked away, even though he had chosen his mission over you, your heart was still tangled up in him, in the idea of what the two of you could have been if he’d just let himself believe in it.

“I don’t know how to love someone halfway,” you admitted, tears brimming in your eyes. “And I’m sorry, but my heart is somewhere else, with someone who might never let himself love me back. I didn’t want it to be like this, but it is, and you deserve more than I can give you right now.”

He gave you a small, sad smile, nodding as he accepted the truth, even though it clearly hurt. “I hope he’s worth it,” he said quietly, a hint of bitterness in his voice, and you couldn’t blame him for that.

As he walked away, leaving you alone in the quiet of your apartment, you felt the full force of your heartbreak crash over you. Hotch was gone, and you were left holding onto pieces of a future that never came to be. All you had now were memories, unspoken words, and the hollow ache of knowing that, in the end, he chose to walk away when you would have chosen him every single time.

The night Hotch left for the mission, Rossi insisted on driving him to the airport. It was late, the kind of late that makes the world feel hollow and deserted, and the car ride was quiet, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the distant lights flickering by. Hotch had barely spoken a word since they left the office, his hands gripping the envelope in his lap like it was his lifeline, even though he knew he would never allow himself to deliver it.

Rossi watched him out of the corner of his eye, his seasoned gaze taking in every detail—the way Hotch’s jaw was clenched, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly around the edges of that letter. Rossi knew his friend too well, knew that look on his face wasn’t about the danger of the mission ahead but about the danger of something much closer to home.

“Don’t suppose you’re planning on actually giving that to her, are you?” Rossi asked, his voice soft but pointed, breaking the silence with a tone that brooked no argument.

Hotch’s eyes flickered over to Rossi, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by his usual stoic expression. “It’s not for her,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a kind of resignation that came from making hard choices. “It’s better this way. She’s better off without knowing.”

Rossi let out a slow, frustrated sigh, shaking his head as he pulled the car over to the curb just shy of the airport’s main entrance. He turned in his seat to face Hotch, his eyes sharp and filled with a kind of exasperated compassion. Without a word, Rossi reached over and plucked the letter from Hotch’s hands so smoothly that Hotch didn’t have time to react.

“Dave, don’t—” Hotch started, but Rossi cut him off, holding the letter up between them.

“You think you’re protecting her by keeping this to yourself?” Rossi asked his voice a low growl, softened only by the underlying empathy in his eyes. “You think walking away with all these words stuck inside you is some noble sacrifice? All you’re doing is making sure she never knows how much she meant to you. You’re making sure she never gets the chance to choose you.”

Hotch’s defenses crumbled just a little, his face tightening as he swallowed hard. “I’m doing what’s best for her,” he insisted, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. “If I give her that letter, if I say these things out loud, it’ll only make it harder for her when I’m gone. It’s my job to keep her safe—even from me.”

Rossi leaned in closer, his eyes boring into Hotch’s, unwavering. “You’re a damn fool, Aaron,” he said, his voice softer now but no less fierce. “She’s not some damsel in distress who needs you to protect her from the truth. She’s strong, and she’s got a right to know how you feel. And if you walk away from this without giving her that chance, then you’re not protecting her—you’re just protecting yourself from getting hurt.”

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, to say something—anything—that might justify the fear that kept him chained to his own doubts. But he couldn’t. All he could do was watch as Rossi tucked the letter into the inside pocket of his jacket, his expression unreadable yet determined.

“Dave,” Hotch sighed, his voice cracking under the weight of vulnerability he could no longer mask.

“No,” Rossi replied simply, shaking his head. “I’m not letting you get on that plane with unfinished business. You can be mad at me all you want, but someday you’ll thank me for this. She deserves to know that you loved her enough to be afraid and that you were man enough to admit it.”

Rossi’s words hung heavy in the air between them, and for the first time in a long while, Hotch didn’t have a comeback. He didn’t have the strength to fight the truth he had been running from—the truth that he was terrified to lose something he never really had the courage to hold onto. And in that moment, as he watched Rossi’s car pull away, he knew that this mission wasn’t about risking his life for the job; it was about trying to outrun the love he was too afraid to face.

As Rossi drove off, he knew exactly what he had to do. He would wait until the time was right, and when Hotch was safely away, he would give you that letter. He would give you a chance that Hotch had never allowed himself to take—a chance to understand the truth that had always been hiding behind his stoic gaze, the truth that he loved you too much to let you see him break.

The mission was supposed to take months, long enough for everyone to settle into the idea that Hotch would be gone and that life at the BAU would continue without him. But something went wrong in the field--something unpredictable and chaotic that pulled him out of the operation sooner than expected.

The whole team was gathered around the screen at the BAU, watching in real-time as events unfolded like a nightmare they couldn’t wake up from.

You watched in silence, your heart lodged in your throat as Hotch risked his life in a split-second decision to save the mission’s integrity.

You knew he was trained for this, that he was capable of facing danger head-on, but seeing it happen right in front of your eyes, seeing the bullets fly and the chaos ensue with Hotch at the center of it—it tore something inside you apart.

Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms as a mixture of fear, anger, relief, and heartbreak churned within you. You hated that you still cared so much, hated that watching him put himself in danger made you want to scream at him, to tell him he had no right to scare you like this after everything he’d done.

When it felt like the scene from a horror movie had ended on the scene, and Hotch was declared safe, a wave of relief swept through the room, followed immediately by a heavy silence.

The rest of the team exchanged glances filled with sympathy and understanding, but you couldn’t look at them. You couldn’t look at him. You turned away, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over, feeling betrayed by your own heart.

Hotch returned to the BAU not long after, weary and haunted, but alive. And when he stepped back into the bullpen, his eyes searching for you, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. The hurt and betrayal were too raw, too fresh. He tried to speak to you, to offer some kind of explanation or apology, but you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him standing there with the words dying on his lips.

Rossi watched the scene unfold with a frown, his hand brushing against the letter still tucked away in his jacket. He’d thought the mission would last long enough to give Hotch the chance to come to his senses, to see the truth he’d been too afraid to confront. But now, as he watched the unspoken agony between you and Hotch, he knew that the letter might be the only way to bridge the chasm growing wider by the day.

The tension between you and Hotch was suffocating as you stepped onto the jet for your first case back together. The team tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, their conversations forced and awkward as they pretended not to notice the icy silence between you and Hotch. But the pain was palpable, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

As the jet cut through the sky, the two of you could barely put your differences aside long enough to discuss the case. Every exchange between you was clipped, your voices low and sharp, each word laced with unspoken accusations. Hotch’s usual calm demeanor was replaced by a tightly controlled frustration, and you could feel your own anger boiling over, fueled by the fear and hurt of watching him almost die and then come back as if nothing had changed.

When he snapped at you over a minor detail, something in you broke. “You don’t get to do that!” you said, your voice rising despite the presence of the team. The pain in your voice was unmistakable, the hurt you’d been holding back finally spilling out. “You don’t get to act like everything’s fine and then snap at me like I’m the one who’s out of line. Not after what you put me through, not after you left without a word.”

Hotch’s eyes flashed with something between guilt and anger, his own control starting to crack. “I’m doing my job,” he said, his voice clipped and colder than you’d ever heard it. “We have a case to solve, and I need you to focus.”

The words stung, cutting deeper than any blade. “Focus?” you said, incredulous, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “I watched you almost get yourself killed, Hotch! I watched you risk your life without a second thought, and now you expect me to just sit here and act like none of that matters? Like you leaving didn’t tear me apart?”

The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Morgan looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to, while JJ’s eyes were filled with empathy for both of you. Emily stared down at her hands, biting her lip, and even remotely through a screen, Garcia seemed to have lost her usual words of comfort.

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips. He couldn’t meet your gaze, couldn’t face the truth of what he had done--the loss of your trust, the pain--and that made you even angrier. The silence between you was thick--heavy with all the words left unsaid, the accusations that neither of you was brave enough to voice.

Rossi had been watching everything unfold, his gaze steady and knowing, his years of experience seeing straight through the walls both you and Hotch had built. He’d seen the way you fought on the jet, the way your voices trembled with hurt and frustration, each word a thinly veiled cry for something that neither of you knew how to reach. He knew that you were both hurting in ways that went beyond words, that the love and the pain you shared were tangled together like a knot neither of you could untie.

He’d hoped that Hotch would find the courage to say the things he’d written in that letter, that seeing you again and almost losing his life would finally push him to confront his feelings. But as the days went by and the distance between you grew, Rossi knew that the time had come to step in. He could see that Hotch’s stubbornness and your heartbreak were tearing you both apart, and he could no longer stand by and watch.

One evening, after the team had returned to the BAU from the case, Rossi found you alone in the dimly lit kitchenette. You were leaning against the counter, staring into your coffee cup like it might hold some kind of answer to the mess your heart was in. The rest of the building was quiet, the hum of the lights the only sound in the room. This was the moment—private, away from the eyes of the team—when Rossi knew he had to act.

He approached you slowly, his footsteps soft against the tile floor. You looked up as he entered the room, your eyes red-rimmed and tired, and for a second, you tried to force a smile. But Rossi knew better; he saw right through it.

"Y/N," he said gently, his voice softening with the kind of understanding that only years of watching lives unravel could bring. "I think it’s time you knew something. Something he should have told you himself."

You furrowed your brow in confusion, but before you could ask, Rossi reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out the letter, the envelope worn from where his fingers had traced over it time and time again, waiting for this moment. He held it out to you, your name scrawled across the front in Hotch’s precise, careful handwriting.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of it, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. "What is this?" you whispered, though you already had a sense of what it might be, the truth of it hovering just beyond your grasp.

“It’s from him,” Rossi said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. "He wrote it before he left on that mission. He never meant for you to see it, but I think you need to. You need to know what he’s been holding back all this time."

Your hand shook slightly as you reached out, taking the letter from Rossi. His fingers lingered for just a moment as if transferring not just a piece of paper but the weight of all the unspoken words that Hotch had never been able to say. You could feel the letter’s weight, heavier than you ever imagined a piece of paper could be.

Rossi’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he said, “Read it, Y/N. It’s time you knew the truth he’s been too afraid to tell you.”

You stared down at the envelope, your fingers trembling as you traced the letters of your name, written by the man who had torn your world apart—the man you still loved, even after everything. The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background as you turned the envelope over, slowly breaking the seal, your breath catching in your throat.

And as you began to unfold the letter, your heart racing with every inch of paper revealed, you knew that whatever was written there would change everything between you and Aaron Hotchner—forever. The truth that had been hiding in the darkness was finally coming to light, and you braced yourself for the impact of words you’d been waiting to hear all along.

The world seemed to fall away as you stared down at the letter in your hands, the one that Hotch had written in a moment of unguarded honesty. His handwriting, precise and steady, almost mocked you with its calmness as you unfolded the paper, knowing that the words on it held the power to either heal or shatter you all over again.

Your hands shook slightly as you began to read, your eyes scanning the lines that laid his soul bare. The letter was filled with the words he could never bring himself to say—the truth he’d hidden behind layers of stoic professionalism and self-sacrifice. He wrote about how he had fallen in love with you so completely that it terrified him, how every time he saw you smile, it felt like the light was breaking through the darkness that had wrapped itself around his life.

He admitted that he had left not because he didn’t care but because he cared too much. He was afraid that if he stayed, he would put you in danger, that the chaos of his world would consume you, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything ever happened to you because of him. He wrote that he was a coward for not letting you in, for not giving you a chance to love him back, and that leaving was the only way he thought he could protect you from himself.

But the most painful confession was how much he regretted not being brave enough to stay. How every day away from you felt like he was living half a life, pretending to be fine while his heart was still tethered to you. He poured out all the vulnerability he’d never let himself show, the raw edges of his love and fear, and by the end, you could barely see the words through the blur of your tears.

You felt your heartbreak and heal all at once, the anguish of his departure mixed with the overwhelming relief of knowing that you hadn’t imagined it, that he did love you—he always had. And yet, there was still anger, still hurt that he could be so selfless and so selfish all at the same time.

You felt reactive, but you knew this moment needed privacy, a space where you could let the raw hurt and anger spill out without holding back. That’s why you found yourself standing in front of Hotch’s apartment door, your heart pounding in your chest, the letter clutched tightly in your trembling hand.

You had rehearsed what you were going to say, how you would confront him for all the pain he’d caused, but the moment he opened the door, everything you’d planned to say disappeared in the face of his shock. He stood there, eyes wide and startled, his hair disheveled, looking as though he’d been caught in the middle of a moment he wasn’t ready for. When he saw the letter in your hand, his face went pale, and you saw something crack in his expression—fear, regret, the realization that there was no more running from this.

“Why?” you demanded, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you felt. You stepped into his apartment without waiting for an invitation, your eyes blazing as you faced him. “Why would you write all of this down, admit that you love me, that you were too afraid to stay, and then just leave? How could you walk away when you knew how much it would hurt me?”

Hotch looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. He looked down at his hands, then back at you, his eyes glistening with a vulnerability that broke through his stoic facade. “I—I didn’t want you to read that letter,” he said finally, his voice raw and unsteady. “I thought if you never knew how I felt, you could move on, be happy without me holding you back.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head, feeling the tears you’d held back for so long start to spill. “You still don’t get it, do you?” you said, your voice cracking with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You never gave me a choice, Aaron! You decided what was best for me, like I was some kind of problem you needed to solve, without ever asking me if that’s what I wanted. You left me here, broken, thinking that I wasn’t enough for you, that you didn’t care, when all along you were just too scared to let me in!”

Hotch’s face crumpled as he took a step toward you, his hands shaking slightly as he reached out, only to stop himself.

“I thought I was protecting you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, filled with the kind of pain you’d never heard from him before. “I thought if I stayed, if I let myself love you the way I do, that I’d put you in danger, that I’d ruin everything good in your life. But I see now that I was wrong. All I did was hurt you.”

You looked at him, your eyes blazing with hurt and love all at once. “I was ready to fight for you, Aaron,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, each word trembling with the force of your emotion. “I was ready to take on the risk, the danger, all of it, because I loved you that much. And you never even gave me the chance to choose you back.”

Hotch’s breath hitched, and you saw his eyes fill with unshed tears. For the first time, his stoic mask slipped completely, and he looked like a man laid bare, all his defenses shattered. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I was doing what was best for you, but all I did was run away from the one thing that mattered most. I didn’t trust myself to be the man you deserve, and I was a coward for that.”

The apartment felt too small, the walls closing in around the two of you as you stood there, your heartbreaking and mending all at once. You wanted to yell at him, to shake him and make him see just how much he’d hurt you, but you also wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him that you understood, that you were just as scared as he was.

“Aaron,” you said, your voice shaking but steady, your eyes meeting his. “You don’t get to make these decisions for me. You don’t get to push me away to protect me. I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, but I know that I want to make that choice myself. I want to decide if this is worth the risk if you are.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, his expression raw and pleading. He felt tension both leave his shoulders, but a new weight appear.

“I promise,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with the kind of vulnerability he never let anyone see. “No more running. No more hiding. I’ll fight for this, for us, if you’ll let me. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the gravity of his promise settle into your heart. The anger and hurt were still there but softened by the truth of his words. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” you said softly, the tears still glistening in your eyes. I’m not saying I’ll forgive you right away. But if you’re willing to stay and fight for this—for us—then maybe we still have a chance.”

Hotch let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a small, tentative smile breaking through the pain in his eyes. He reached for your hand, and this time, you didn’t pull away. His fingers curled around yours, trembling slightly as if afraid this was all a dream that might slip through his grasp.

And as you stood there in the quiet of his apartment, your hand in his, you knew that whatever happened next, you were finally on the same side, facing the fear, the risk, the uncertainty—together. The story between you and Aaron Hotchner was far from over; in fact, it had only just begun.

As the words between you and Hotch settled into the quiet of his apartment, a heavy silence filled the space—not the kind that was strained or uncomfortable, but the kind that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, pulling you both closer to a truth that neither of you was ready to let go of. There was something fragile in the air, something tender that neither of you dared to name, but you both knew it was there. It was the moment you’d both been waiting for, even if you’d never admitted it to yourselves.

You were still standing so close to him, your hand resting in his, and for once, neither of you pulled away. The soft light from the lamp in the corner cast shadows across his face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes and the quiet desperation that said he didn’t want this moment to end. He was holding onto you like you were his lifeline, like letting go meant he’d lose more than he could bear.

Hotch took a shaky breath, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles, his touch so tender it almost broke you all over again. "Stay a little longer," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, the vulnerability in his words laying everything bare. "I know I have no right to ask, but please... just stay."

Your heart ached at the rawness of his plea, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, not yet. You nodded slowly, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "Okay," you said softly, your voice laced with the same longing that echoed in his eyes. "Just a little longer."

Without a word, he led you to the couch, and the two of you sat down, closer than you’d ever been before. Hotch’s arm rested along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing the fabric near your shoulder as if he was afraid to reach for more but couldn’t bring himself to pull away. You turned toward him, your knees almost touching, and for the first time, the distance that had always seemed insurmountable between you felt like it was finally closing.

He looked at you with such intensity, such quiet longing that it made your chest tighten. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering near your temple as if memorizing the way you looked at this moment. "I never thought I could let myself have this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours like he was afraid of what he might find.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes again, but this time they were softer, a mixture of relief and sadness and everything you’d kept locked inside for so long. You placed your hand over his, holding it against your cheek, and closed your eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth of his touch, the way his thumb traced gentle circles against your skin.

"I’m here now," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. "I’m here, Aaron. And I’m not going anywhere—not unless you make me."

For a moment, it was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, and it was just the two of you in that small, quiet space. Hotch’s forehead touched yours, the breath between you shared and steadied, and in that touch, there was more intimacy than any words could convey. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the way his breathing matched yours, and you knew he was holding onto this moment as if it were a lifeline.

He closed his eyes, his voice so soft and broken that it almost didn’t reach you. "I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his lips just inches from yours, not in a kiss but in a closeness that held more promise than any kiss ever could. "I don’t deserve you."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze with a determination you hadn’t felt in so long, your voice trembling but sure. "Maybe you don’t," you said, a hint of a smile breaking through your tears. "But I’m giving you the chance to prove me wrong."

Hotch let out a breath that was almost a laugh, a sound so soft and genuine it made your heartache. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands coming to cradle your face with a gentleness that you didn’t know he possessed like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. "I’m not going to let you down again," he promised, his voice raw and filled with something that felt like hope. "I’ll fight for this—for us."

The two of you stayed like that; the world narrowed down to the space between your breaths, the gentle touch of his hands against your skin, and the unspoken promise of everything that lay ahead. You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need to break the silence with words that could never capture what this moment meant. You just held each other, the two of you finally, truly, being—no masks, no walls, just you and Aaron.

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew you had to eventually. So, when you finally pulled back, his hand still lingering on your cheek, you let out a soft sigh. "I should go," you said, your voice gentle, though your heart ached at the thought of leaving.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his thumb brushing one last tender stroke across your cheek. "I know," he said, his voice filled with the quiet acceptance of a man who had found something he didn’t want to lose. "But not too far, okay?"

You gave him a small, tearful smile, your fingers wrapping around his for just a moment longer. "Never too far," you promised.

And as you stood up, reluctantly letting go of his hand, you both knew that something had shifted between you, something irreversible and true. You weren’t sure where this would lead, how much more pain or healing lay ahead, but for the first time, you both believed in the possibility of something real—something worth fighting for. And that was enough.

As fate would have it, just as you and Hotch finally seemed to find solid ground, the world pulled you back into the chaos that had always been your reality. A big case came barreling in like a storm, sweeping the entire BAU into its relentless grip. The details were brutal and time-sensitive, and there was no room for hesitation as you all packed your bags and headed off to the next city to face yet another battle in the war against darkness.

You and Hotch barely had a moment to catch your breath, much less to explore the fragile new beginning you’d carved out in his apartment. The case consumed you both, the demands of the job dragging you into late-night briefings, endless strategy sessions, and the exhaustion that came from running on adrenaline and sheer determination.

But through it all, there was something different in the way he looked at you—something softer, something that made your heart skip a beat even in the midst of chaos. There were stolen glances across the conference room, fleeting touches that lingered a second too long when no one was watching. It was like you were both holding onto a secret, a promise whispered between the cracks of what had always been left unsaid.

It was late—long past midnight—and the case was at a standstill for the night. You were in your hotel room, staring at the ceiling, mind racing with the pieces of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit together when a soft knock came at your door. You knew it was him even before you opened it, your heart pounding as you turned the handle to find Hotch standing there, looking more unguarded and raw than you’d ever seen him.

He was still in his suit, but his tie was gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and he looked like he’d been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for too long. He met your eyes, his own filled with something that looked like vulnerability like fear and longing tangled into one.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low and almost hesitant like he was afraid you’d turn him away.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Hotch walked in slowly, closing the door behind him, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he should say something or stay silent.

"I thought I could do this," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I thought I could keep it professional, keep my distance. But every time I look at you, every time I see you put yourself in danger for this job, it terrifies me. And I can’t keep pretending that I’m not in love with you."

The words left you breathless, your mind reeling, and before you could even think, you closed the distance between you, reaching for him like he was the only solid thing in your world. His hands found your face, his touch gentle but desperate like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice trembling with all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long. "You don’t have to keep pretending anymore. I’m here. I’m right here."

And then his lips were on yours, and it was like the world stopped spinning. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, almost like he was afraid to believe it was real. But then it deepened, all the years of longing and restraint shattering in an instant, replaced by a raw, desperate need that neither of you could hold back. His hands slipped into your hair, holding you to him like he was afraid to let go, and you felt his breath hitch against your lips.

You broke the kiss just long enough to whisper his name, to look into his eyes and see the love and fear and desire that mirrored your own. "Stay with me," you said, your voice so soft, almost a plea.

He didn’t answer with words; he didn’t have to. He kissed you again, harder this time, more certain, his hands trailing down your sides as he pulled you closer. It was a kiss that spoke of everything you’d both been too afraid to say, everything that had been locked away in silence for so long. He poured himself into it—all the loneliness, the longing, the love he’d kept hidden.

You moved together in a blur of tangled limbs and whispered words, the unspoken promises and all the almosts finally becoming something real. You couldn’t recall at what point whose clothes ended up on the floor first or how it felt like it took no time for your skin to feel on fire under each brush of Hotch’s fingertips against your skin.

Hotch’s touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as if he was memorizing every inch of your skin, the way you felt beneath his fingertips. His eyes never left yours, even as he kissed a trail down your neck, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.

When he finally laid you down on the bed, his movements were slow, almost hesitant, like he wanted to savor every second, like he couldn’t quite believe you were really here with him. You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek, guiding him closer, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

As he hovered above you, his forehead pressed to yours, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes—the love and fear and hope all tangled together. "I’ve never let myself have this," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "But with you, I can’t pretend anymore."

You pulled him down into another kiss, softer this time, filled with the tenderness that had always been between you, even when you were too afraid to acknowledge it. And then you were lost in each other, in the feel of his hands on your skin, his lips trailing fire across your body, the way he breathed your name like it was a prayer.

It was as if his hands and body knew you already--knew exactly how you ticked.

When he finally sank into you, it was with a sigh that seemed to echo in the quiet room, a moment so full of love and longing that it brought tears to your eyes. You moved together, slow and gentle, the world outside fading away until there was nothing left but the two of you, the rhythm of your breaths and the way his eyes held yours like you were the only thing that mattered.

It wasn’t just about desire—it was about finding each other in the dark, about all the broken pieces of yourselves fitting together in a way that finally made sense. It was about love, pure and simple, the kind of love that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to unfold.

When the morning light filtered through the curtains, you woke up wrapped in his arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For once, Aaron Hotchner looked at peace, his eyes soft as he watched you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back.

"Good morning," he said, his voice still rough from sleep, a small, tender smile playing at his lips.

"Good morning," you whispered back, feeling the warmth of his smile settle over you like a blanket.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with something that looked like wonder. "I don’t want this to end," he said softly, his voice filled with an honesty that took your breath away. "I’m done pretending, done pushing you away. I want this—I want you."

You leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your smile growing as you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. "I’m not going anywhere, Aaron," you said. "Not anymore."

And as you lay there in each other’s arms, the promise of everything you’d both been too afraid to dream of was finally within reach. No more running, no more hiding. Just the two of you, facing whatever came next—together.

When the case was finally over, thee unsub was in custody, and the tension that had bound the team so tightly for the past few days had begun to loosen. You and Hotch had done your best to remain professional throughout the investigation, maintaining a careful distance despite the undeniable connection between you. Every stolen glance and fleeting touch during the case had only reminded you of the night you’d shared together, the secret that seemed to hang in the air between you.

Now, as the jet hummed quietly on the journey back to the BAU, the rest of the team settled into their seats, some rifling through case files while others engaged in quiet conversation. There was a sense of relief in the air, the kind that came after a job well done, but you could still feel Hotch's gaze on you, lingering with something softer, something unspoken that only the two of you understood.

Hotch was sitting directly across from you, his posture as calm and composed as ever, but the way he was watching you betrayed the quiet storm of emotions he was trying to keep in check. He shifted slightly, then cleared his throat, drawing the attention of not just you but everyone around.

Your name slipped from his lips, steady but tinged with a hint of vulnerability that made your pulse quicken. "I was thinking," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, his eyes locked on yours, "when we get back, maybe we could have dinner sometime." He paused for a fraction of a second, his gaze never wavering. "A real dinner. You know, a date."

There was a split second of silence before Morgan let out a low whistle, his face breaking into a wide, knowing grin. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest as he shook his head in amusement. "Well, damn, Hotch. I didn’t think you had it in you," he said with a teasing smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness for the two of you. "Took you long enough, man."

JJ and Emily exchanged quick glances, both smiling like they’d just witnessed something monumental. JJ’s smile grew wider, and she gave you a look that was equal parts supportive and relieved. "It’s about time," she said, her tone gentle but filled with a knowing warmth. "I think we’ve all been waiting for this."

Even Reid, who had been lost in a book just moments before, looked up with a surprised but pleased expression. "Statistically speaking," he said thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly as he processed the scene, "the odds were always in favor of you two ending up together. It’s good to see that probability playing out."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a mix of embarrassment and joy coloring your cheeks. Hotch, who rarely let his guard down in front of the team, surprised you again by not hiding his smile—a real, genuine smile that lit up his face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"So," he said, his voice lower now, meant just for you even though the whole team was listening. "Is that a yes?"

You nodded, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. "Yes," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that spoke of everything unspoken between you. "It’s a date."

Hotch’s smile widened just a touch more, and you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes, a quiet kind of joy that made your heart swell. It was such a simple thing—a date—but it felt like a promise, a beginning, a chance for something real outside the chaos of your lives.

As the moment settled between you, the jet full of your colleagues who had become your family, Morgan let out another chuckle. "Just remember, Hotch," he said, grinning as he looked at both of you, "we’ll all be expecting a full report."

Emily smirked, giving you a playful nudge with her elbow. "And we’ll be rooting for you guys," she added, her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. "All the way."

You felt a warmth spread through you, not just from the support of your team but from the quiet certainty that you were finally on the same page with Hotch. This was more than just a fleeting moment; it was the start of something that neither of you was willing to let slip away this time.

As the jet continued its journey through the sky, you could feel the shift in the air, a sense of hope that was shared by everyone in that small space. It wasn’t just about the kiss you’d shared or the night you’d spent together. It was about a future, a chance for happiness that you both finally believed in.

And it all began with a date, a new beginning that held the promise of everything you’d both been too afraid to dream of—together.

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