#but at the end of the day it was just supposed to a bonus for the original kg story

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 97

Smile by Kayleen756894

Same as when we covered Burning Lungs, check the tags for this fic before ya jump in cause it gets pretty dark even within the first chapter. 

It’s a big day for the project people, I mentioned back on Day 60 that there were three fics that I consider directly responsible for this entire thing since they’re what set me on this path of a comically large amount of Junkan. And today we FINALLY talk about another one of them, even if I admittedly did cover a little bit of my history with this specific story during Day 60 for the sake of context. Apologies if I repeat myself a few times!

The previous few days I’ve been covering fic first, then the art. For this day however I’m going to cover the art first, along with any other bonus facts I have, and THEN i will do my best to adequately sing the praises of today’s stories.

Also let it be known that the music I put on while I read through the whole fic in preparation for today’s ramble was “LEASE” by Takeshi Abo. 10 hour loop too. Someone will find that funny probably, maybe even you!

(This is another long one, get ready)

Before I address the art I might as well have a little fun and discuss the order I decided to do these in, interesting I know.

Days 91-92 were easy, the first Soft Fic and the first fic to use the Non-Abusive Tag, they had to be the opener. Day 93 was one of the longer stories so I did that one first, since I did read each story before working on the art. From there it’s a pretty simple pattern of “Short Fic followed by a longer, more serious fic that I gotta psyche myself up for.” And it was done pretty much with todays subject in mind, but we’ll get for it. 

You’ll notice I have two different art pieces today, the reason is simple. I wasn’t very happy with the initial art, so I made a much more direct adaptation of a scene from the first chapter to go with it. And in a rare instance I can also bring you some early versions of the initial piece!

From the initial sketch you can see that this was supposed to be a proper cover for the story, as I wanted to feature scenes from each of the three chapters, that middle shot is one I’ve had in my mind since the first time I read the story. Those who have read the fic can probably recognize each one. The second image was almost the final version of this. I scrapped the lower portion of the art for a few reasons. The flames of burnout were miniscule but still present, though rest assured these would not come into play until after the point of when the fanfic art is all finished. Secondly, when I was supposed to work on this art, a power outage hit my house. This also meant that in terms of making the art I only had the first chapter read, anything else was purely memory (Like I said though, I read the full fic for todays ramble, rest assured). And thirdly, I kinda, just thought it didn’t look good? And as you can see this version had details cut despite how far into the process it was, fully removing the expressions outside of the two smiling. Cause y’know . . . “Smile.” Plus in retrospect the eyes, while striking compared to the rest of the art, look kinda fucking silly?

Why didn’t I like the end result? Honestly I think I was just in a bad headspace at the time due to the combination of the power out stressing me out, and just generally speaking my mental health has never been the most structurally sound aspect of myself. I’m good at drawing, not so much being well put together. Looking at it now, while I think the piece is a bit esoteric and might not be what I’d make today for a piece based on this fic, I like it a lot.

And at the end of the dead even if I didn’t like how the first one turned out, I’m pretty happy with it! Even with perfectionist brain bitching at me that I could have done Junko’s hair a bit better at the given angle. Just a straight adaptation of Junko and Mikan’s first kiss from Chapter 1. The most interesting note on it’s creation is that I had to make last minute changes to Mikan because I realized her hair needed to be a lot shorter and more well put together, as earlier in the fic Junko does fix it up a bit. 

Oh! I did also send the second pic to the author herself as a way of introducing myself and showing appreciation, so that’s a bit of added sentimental value! Kayleen’s an absolute treat by the way, super fun to talk too, great insight on writing, you should absolutely check out the rest of her writing! I’m not in most of the fandoms featured say for RWBY, but based on the quality of her writing on the Danganronpa side of things, I feel confident recommending anything she’s published in the past, present, and future!~ 

Speaking of writing, I should probably like. Talk about the god damn fic, huh? Well. Nope! I still have more fun facts!

I almost didn’t adapt Smile! I knew for certain that Kayleen needed a spot on this list, it would have felt wrong otherwise. And there were two fics in mind for adaptation.

“Smile”, obviously, and “Soft (But only for Her).” My earliest plan was going to be to just do both. However I only had 8 days to work with, and spoilers, Day 98 is in fact a returning author, so I didn’t want to take up half of my slots on two authors, I wanted to show my appreciation to as many as I could during this string of the event before going back to my own stuff for the last two days. So I thought it over, and decided that Smile was too important to pass up on this project, leaving Soft (But only for Her) for later.

I did have a full plan for it though, unlike Smile where I didn’t really have an idea going into it. I’ll tell you what the plan was gonna be.

Most people would be curious which of the around 30 wonderful one shots I could have chosen to adapt, I’ve already done one of them with the very first chapter in that collection! However you my audience, are not most people. There’s a good chance you’re reading this paragraph, rubbing your temples and resigning yourself to the fact that I was very much going to draw art based on every single piece of that collection. Because yes I was just gonna adapt all of it. Was gonna make a big collage out of all of em, even the chapters that have so much angst I struggle to even read them cause they make me too sad! I’d still do it too. I probably will. When you least expect it. 

For now though I really wanna draw something based on Chapter 25 when I have the time. I wanna draw art based on a lot of other fanfics actually, I’ve just been pretty swamped. But rest assured, to those of you who’ve written a Junkan fic and weren’t featured. Rest assured, I have my eyes open, I’m always looking that tag over, and there were definitely some stories omitted that I really wish I could have included IN the project. Give it time. My self control grows weaker by the day!~

Okay, okay. NOW, I should be able to talk about the fic. Probably.

So I’ve told this story before, but now you’ll get to hear it in a bit more detail compared to before. Will hopefully not be too repetitive for ya’ll!

So once again we jump back a few years during say, 2020, MAYBE early 2021. I find a fic that includes Junkan when I was simply trying to find Ikuzono. It ends up being pretty cute and makes me curious, “I thought this ship was super toxic? How is this one so cute?”

So, I look around the tag, still not sure how to Navigate AO3 even after gaining a lot of experience through the power of many late night tokomaru binges. And as you already knew or could guess, I came across Smile.

At the time it only had 2 chapters, which normally might have turned me away at the time, I wasn’t a desperate animal like I am today. However I guess I either ignored that, or just didn’t care, too curious to see what else this ship could entail.

So here I am, sitting in my bed, writing this ramble, trying to figure out once again how to talk about one of the fics that set me off on this obsession with Junko and Mikan as a softer, loving couple. That and also a fic that is much more serious in terms of its tone and content, as this fic, like Drowning, is one of the only fics in this stretch of the project that is definitely set in the main canon of DR. Serving as essentially a new origin for Junkan as a couple prior to the tragedy. 

I’m sure I’ve said before that when it comes to how I view Junko and Mikan’s relationship, that Val’s work is basically the primary blueprint for how I interpret and portray them. However that’s for the Non-Despair AUs, while there is some bleed over in how I handle Canon portrayals (And I admittedly haven’t done a lot with a serious interpretation of that), in my brain this story, Smile, is the blueprint of how I view a canon timeline version of Junkan. That might just be bias from it being the first fic I read that like, but it does kind of help that this is just one of the most excellently written interpretation of these characters I’ve ever bared witness to.

The first chapter was originally supposed to be a Standalone according to the Author’s Notes, and it really works as one! It’s a very complete story that’s super well put together, and ends very satisfyingly if you just stop after finishing it. I’m extremely glad it continued, as I don’t think my obsession would have come to fruition when it did if not for those following two chapters. But maybe I’m wrong cause this fic certainly knows how to hook you on a ship!

I was god damn mesmerized reading the first chapter. This has to be one of the saddest takes on Mikan’s character that I’ve ever read. Burning Lungs comes close however we never get to actually see things from her perspective, that’s all from Junko’s outsider point of view. Here we get to see it all from Mikan’s perspective, all of it, the sad stuff, the extra sad stuff, the stuff I don’t really know how to talk about because I’m inadequate with this kind of subject matter. And some gay panic, because it’s not Junkan without at least a little gay panic somewhere in the mix.

Junko is really god damn good in this first chapter, she’s god damn good in the whole fic but we’re talking about chapter one right now so i’m specifying. She has such a mysterious aura around her the entire time, and not just the obvious “Oh she’s planning the tragedy behind the scenes,” but also the mystery of how she feels about Mikan! It’s something left up to viewer interpretation in the first chapter, and to a much lesser extent the following chapters (I say lesser extent cause it does eventually lean into her having real feelings for Mikan, just being super confused by them. At least that’s how I look at it). Everytime I read one of these stories that serve as an origin point for these two’s relationship, it’s always really interesting to see how things initiate. It’s pretty much always Junko initiating of course, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fic where it was Mikan who made the first move? If there is I’m having a severe lapse in memory it seems, or I’ve misinterpreted! The point of course being I really like the way Junko handles things here, saving Mikan from her darkest point, all that good shit! 

And the kiss? I drew it for a reason, it’s amazing. From the buildup to the way Mikan has a rare instance of boldness and grabs Junko’s tie? The grabbing the tie part makes my brain explode, the fact that Junko herself was surprised by it is even better. I love it whenever Mikan can actually get Junko surprised or flustered. It’s great!

I feel like I should be more detailed, more meticulous, but it really is a struggle trying to be in depth when discussing something this good, I wouldn’t consider it my strong suit? 

So let’s try moving onto chapter 2! I do at least have a story with this one but that can be for when I finish desperately trying to talk about the chapter itself. 

It’s lovely! Big shock! We get to see the two of them just acting like a normal couple for a bit, and even better we get to see the two partaking in some sleepy cuddles. That scene also does one of those Junkan things I fuckin love where Junko just, fucking reads Mikan’s mind. I know that’s not what she’s doing but also it’s funnier to put it that way. I just like Junko putting her analytical ability to use by reading Mikan and understanding her finer details. It can be used in all kinds of ways, cute ways, funny ways, saucy ways, but this might just be my favorite way? Her being able to tell when Mikan’s about to spiral and snapping her out of it quick. 

Their date is lovely by the way, love the drive there, the conversation is just a treat. And I really like the reference to the grenade scene from the DR3 anime, I might not have fond memories with that series like, at all, but that one clip of Junko tossing the grenade and Mukuro (We’ll get to her) catching it is just a really fun bit of energy. It’s also just fucking funny because it reads like they practiced that shit for like 2 fuckin weeks- Sorry, distracted. Anyway I think the scene is both a fun reference, and another good way to kinda remind of us the darker parts of this storyline underlying the softer surface. Junko is in fact trying to burn the world down, she just also happens to have a tooth rotting-ly sweet relationship with a very sad nurse. The moments where Mikan unintentionally peers into that world, whether hearing an explosion or seeing the red roots of Junko’s true haircolor, I love it all!

Great moment with Mikan helping that kid from bullies, always love to see Mikan flourishing in these stories (foreshadowing)! I think it is very funny that the small child just immediately clocked that Mikan and Junko were dating, the kid either has a crazy gaydar or Mikan and Junko are the least subtle people alive . . . okay yeah it’s that second one.

The following scene is great too, fuck those parents, and fuck yeah to Junko coming in for the clutch as she is one to do in this fic. The kiss to follow? Fantastic. Junko’s joke about exhibitionism? Also fantastic. The part where Mikan says she’s gonna go see her parents- Fuck.

Okay so, I’mma make the assumption that if you’re this deep into my ramble you’ve probably read the fic already. And if you skipped out on the fic due to the subject matter noted in the tags, you can probably already tell by my apprehension that everything in this fic from here on out is like, the opposite end of the spectrum from all the sweet (albeit ominous) stuff we’ve had up till now. And you’d be correct, and I quite frankly don’t know how to talk about it, like, at all. There are parts of this that I do wanna talk about from this and the following chapter, but also I feel neither confident nor comfortable explicitly discussing what happens to Mikan here. Even if you can probably already tell.

Still, I must show my respects to the literature and it’s author, so I will do my best. Apologies if I fumble here.

I’m still not gonna talk in depth about Mukuro here, but I do like the conversation leading up to this scene, before Mikan shows up. It’s something that was going to inevitably come up, because yeah, Junko can make Mikan fall deeply in love with her, but that won’t exactly prepare her for being complicit in the apocalypse. There’s a part of me that’s curious what her gameplan was before the end of this chapter happens, how was she going to try and turn Mikan over to her side 100% and make sure she’s ready. The world will never know.

Junko’s great at the end of this chapter, not just the comfort she provides. But the way she, in the words of the story, Snaps. That line? That stuck with me when I first read this. I think it’s the moment that confirmed for me personally, that yeah, Junko does love Mikan even if she doesn’t understand it. And it wasn’t just that moment that stuck with me, it was the whole fic by this point.

That’s right, it's story time. So when I found this fic, there were only two chapters. And I wanna remind ya’ll that before this fic I read a fic so silly, soft, and fluffy that it made me question what this ship could be. Jumping from that, to this was definitely . . . Whiplash?

What happened after that is fun, because I don’t fucking remember. I think unironically the amount of stress that ending put me under just from the shock of it, made me fuckin black out?? Which by the way, huge kudos, it takes some really fucking good writing to get me so invested that I get real life stressed as shit because of bad things happening to the characters. But anyway, I didn’t actually just, black out from stress. But everything after that is so blurred that it’s borderline incomprehensible, I try to remember past that point, and it’s like looking at memories put through a paper shredder before being put back together by a toddler doing a handstand. 

All I can say for sure is that starting from the morning after, I was obsessed. I woke up, and kept fucking checking to see if Chapter 3 was out yet. I hadn’t checked the time of the latest update, I still barely fucking understood how AO3 actually worked. I’m pretty sure it was through this fic that I learned that when a fic updates it moves to the top of the page for a given tag. This was also way before I had an AO3 account, so I couldn’t just subscribe or bookmark it. I’m sure I read other fics at this point, probably including Kayleen’s other works? But the timespan between Chapter 2 and 3 feel like white noise, whatever I read didn’t exist in my memories by the time that story ended. And god damn did it end.

When Chapter 3 popped up, it was late I’m pretty sure. I don’t know what I was doing at the time, maybe looking at manga online, talking with friends over discord dms, failing homework over online school, maybe even doing some of my own writing since i’m pretty sure this was back before my passion for it died out. Whatever it was, I dropped it fucking IMMEDIATELY. I needed to see this ending, I needed that catharsis.

So I layed in my bed, in a house I was still new to, and read the god damn chapter.

It was perfect. One of the first times to my knowledge where I’ve had the satisfaction of reading an unfinished fic and getting to actually see it end.

Where do I start, what do I even say? Anything I say just kind of boils down to “Junko and Mikan are perfectly written and I love their interactions and also god dammit I feel so bad for Mikan.”

The scene on the rooftop is great, I remember in one of Kayleen’s other fics Mikan shows concern for Junko’s eating habits, so getting to this scene and seeing the reverse was nice. And like, god, Junko’s so good in this. I get she’s trying to start the end of the world but she’s doing such a fucking good job here. Sure, she asks Mikan to kill her parents right after this, which might not be the most normal way of helping your girlfriend through a severely traumatic experience, but that’s just Junko y’know? 

Should I talk about Mukuro now? I should probably talk about Mukuro now, I really wanted to wait like one more scene but fuck it we’re talking about Mukuro now. 

Have I ever really talked about Mukuro in the context of Junkan? I know I’ve definitely made note of her, and I’ve obviously included her in these pieces with varying degrees of prominence. But I don’t think I’ve ever noted how I think she’s is one of the most interesting and amazing assets of Junkan as a ship. Calling Mukuro an asset feels like a disservice, but I lack the words to adequately describe what I mean here. 

The Despair Sisters are already one of the most interesting dynamics in Danganronpa, and a pretty versatile one at that based on the various interpretations I’ve seen of these two. And I think adding Junkan into the mix is just lovely, because it adds an outsider perspective, but not just that, it’s the outsider perspective of someone who’s closer than anyone else due to Mikan dating Junko. Bonus for the contrast of Junko pampering Mikan and shit talking Mukuro, even if I believe that shit talking is just a very layered way for Junko to express that she does care about Mukuro as a sister. 

And I think Mukuro and Mikan is a really fun dynamic too! I love the idea of Mikan finding love through Junko, and then in turn getting a second person in her life that cares about her. Mukuro being Mikan’s bodyguard bare minimum is great, protect that sweet little nurse you desaturated girliepop you. But I think the way their dynamic can evolve overtime as Mikan continues to date Junko is great. 

Mukuro getting to see firsthand how Mikan is changing Junko for the better, even if it’s in a canon timeline where Junko’s still like, very locked in on the apocalypse. She’s getting to be happier in a more genuine way, which I’m sure Mukuro would be grateful for, and that just makes her caring about Mikan’s wellbeing all the better.

Plus like, something I don’t think about often, at least not until very recently, but if Junko and Mikan are dating, and inevitably get married. That does just kinda mean Mikan and Mukuro are sisters in law. And, I fuckin love that? Mikan not only gets an amazing relationship with Junko, but she also just gets to have a sibling, something that to my knowledge she doesn’t have in canon. It’s that found family stuff that I love, even if the found family in this case is a bit more literal rather than just being a metaphor. And Mukuro gets a new sister, one who cares about her just as much as Junko, but is just significantly better at expressing that by comparison. I think Mukuro would really appreciate having a sister who like, hugs her without slinging an insult, or just getting any kind of open, visceral appreciation without having to read between the lines. 

I love to see Mikan with plenty of friends, she has a bunch of dynamics that I appreciate. But I also have a lot of appreciation for the idea of Junko and Mukuro being the only people she cares about, the only people she needs to survive. 

Where was I- Oh right.

Kayleen’s depiction of Mukuro and her dynamic with our other two primary characters is amazing. Spectacular even. Fucking perfect perhaps. It does everything I love about the Despair Sister’s dynamic without bordering into uncomfortable territory like some facets of the main canon does. But what I especially love is her dynamic with Mikan in the few moments we get to see them interact. A protector, a friend, and eventually a sister to her, it’s amazing. The scene when Mikan wakes up to Mukuro watching over her while Junko is away is phenomenal, and I love Mikan’s concern for her given the way Junko treats her, which does look pretty bad without the deeper context. The moment at the very end of Chapter 2 where Mukuro just heads off to (I assume) kidnap Mikan’s parents after just sharing a look with Junko, it’s another one of my favorite bits in that scene.

And of course, the scene that lead me to start yapping about Mukuro like that out of fucking nowhere, her talking to Mikan about Junko’s test. It’s great how she tries to help Mikan come to a decision without forcing anything. But also finally giving some more confirmation that Junko definitely feels something for Mikan, expressing how many changes in her demeanor she’s noted. And the reveal that Junko routinely struggles with Nightmares whenever Mikan isn’t around?? Fuck I love that. God dammit. 

I feel like I should talk more about this scene, but I feel like I kinda did? To an extent? A lot of what I just said about Mukuro’s place in this dynamic kinda sums up a lot of the great things about this scene. So I suppose we move on.

The buildup to the big scene of this chapter is wonderful of course, not much to say there. And I admittedly just really want to talk about the scene that follows.

Because god it’s everything I was hoping for when I finished that second chapter and had no idea whether I’d see this scene or not. 

The reveal is great, and as grotesque as I anticipated. I do cringe a little reading some of the details, not the modern dickhead definition of cringe either I mean the “Oh god fuck that’s brutal” kind of cringe. And it is so perfectly contrasted by Junko being Junko, love the idea that Junko and Mukuro just nabbed up these people and didn’t explain a goddamn thing until this very moment where they finally figure out that this crazy bitch is dating their daughter. Mukuro punching Mikan’s dad in the face was fucking great too. 

And the buildup to what comes next, is so god damn good. It feels weird out of context celebrating it, but the scene where Mikan breaks? Fucking spectacular. The distortion on the word Red hits like a fucking truck, and also speaks to my childhood of being a creepypasta kid because i’m like, half sure that’s the zalgo text filter, correct me if I’m wrong of course. Point is it was an out of nowhere detail that perfectly emphasized the tensity of what’s about to happen.

And I can go on another tangent now, because this is something I have had no opportunity to talk about during the entire duration of this project. At least not to my memory or knowledge.

I love Angry Mikan. I love the Mikan that snaps and is fully over the edge, not willing to deal with anyones bullshit. I of course have criticisms of Chapter 3 in DR2, but Mikan’s reveal of her true self, or I suppose the herself prior to the NWP, I love that moment. 

I’ve never depicted Angry Mikan before, but someday I really want to. So until then I take great enjoyment in seeing such a rare side of Mikan, which itself is even rarer in these fics. I think counting this one there are only 3, maybe 4 other fics off the top of my head where we get to see Mikan fully lose her temper. Now of course, I could be suffering another lapse in memory, or I just haven’t read the other stories that feature it. I only think I’ve read like, 90% of the Soft Junkan out there, I can’t confidently claim I actually have for certain, so maybe I missed it! 

Point is, seeing Angry Mikan is a treat. And here especially is fucking amazing, the verbal teardown, the havoc of it all. It’s great. And Junko just adds to it with her sheer excitement (which is putting it lightly given some of the dialogue), getting to see Mikan finally become, from her perspective, the best version of herself. Someone who can survive alongside her. 

When things start moving, it’s amazing. A small moment I really love, and the moment I was originally gonna wait for to talk about Mukuro with. Her offering up an assortment of firearms from “Her personal collection.” is just, weirdly wholesome? The things I get to say talking about this ship I swear. I dunno, it feels like such a small, personal moment and offer that only Mukuro could provide, and feels like the perfect cap to Mikan and Mukuro’s dynamic throughout this fic.

Also, fucking enamored with the the presence of a Rocket Launcher. Funniest alternate timeline sitting right there, imagining Mikan with a fucking rpg over her shoulder is hilarious.

Junko offering the reverse side of the weaponry coin is lovely too of course, but it’s the wonderful stuff I’d already expect with Junko, so much less of a pleasant surprise like Mukuro. I do appreciate her keeping a knife used on Mikan’s father as a trophy though, imagine that over the fireplace.

Anyway I don’t know how I could really explain to you why the torture scene is nice. It’s catharsis, it’s just catharsis. I don’t even remember how fucking long I waited to read this moment but it was so worth it, Junko and Mukuro joining in to help setup equipment was also really cute . . . i feel like i shouldn’t be calling segments from a torture scene cute. Hm. Well anyway, I can say that while I appreciate its existence, I’m also glad Kayleen chose not to drag it out for too long. Ironic coming from the most excessive bitch around here, but it probably would have been a bit much if it took up the grander majority of this chapter.

Which means we say goodbye to Mukuro and return to our regularly scheduled Junko and Mikan moments. 

And yeah what do you want me to fucking say, it’s amazing? Because it’s amazing as fuck, yeah. I’m running out of ways to just say how fuckin much i love this, but i’ll persevere best I can. 

I mentioned way earlier that I love it when Mikan catches Junko by surprise, and we get more of that here. Though in this instance I think it’s better to describe that this is the first time Mikan just gets the upper hand on Junko, who’s struggling to fight back in the conversation because she’s already struggling to figure out her feelings. And it’s really lovely to see Mikan fighting past Junko’s own insecurities, especially when she regards herself as a bad girlfriend. It’s great, and it’s more of that role reversal I love. 

The book analogy near the end of this conversation is so good, it’s sappy as fuck but that’s why it’s good. And Junko leaning into it despite how lame it is makes it all the better, and I only noticed on this recent reread that there’s even a cheeky V3 reference as well, clever!~ 

The kiss is of course great, and I think i’ve just fully fucking run out of ways to talk about how much I love Junko and Mikan kisses in these stories. Thank god there isn’t one in tomorrows fic- getting ahead of myself. 

Rip to Scissorhands, thanks for the gay but you will not be missed.

God damn amazing fic, so well written. It’s one where I have to be in a very specific mindset in order to read it, as that middle chapter really does stress me out enough to be a bit of a roadblock. But admittedly this most recent reread wasn’t the worst compared to the previous few times. That said the fic definitely had it’s effect on me like usual, my body felt all kinds of wild ways, my heartbeat was a lot more intense, breathing a bit wacked out, my nerves up. The whole shebang, so good fucking writing. Equally bittersweet considering that, at least I assume, the normal events of DR are going to follow this story, even if not immediately. So Mukuro’s gonna die, Junko’s gonna die, and then Mikan’s going to have her brain undespaired and probably lose all her feelings towards Junko (Though I will admit, the idea of Mikan after the actual events of canon still having feelings for Junko while not being a remnant is pretty interesting). 

However, I can live with that. It’s still an amazing story even with main canon in consideration, and I think I’ve run out of things to say here. 

Tomorrow is the last fic based art in the event, Days 99 and 100 are all on me. And by process of elimination you probably have an idea of what Day 98 is, you may even know the exact fic. 

I said there were three fics that were vital to me reaching this point in my life, being this obsessed with Junkan as a ship.

The Third Fic, Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed, is the fic that sent me spiraling into brainrot to the point of snapping and drawing art of it behind closed doors, eventually snapping me into drawing more Junkan than I imagine most if not anybody ever has.

The Second Fic, Smile, is what got me obsessed with the ship in the first place, of course only enough to enjoy reading it in secret, which would lead me to EYED.

All that’s left is The First Fic, which you’ll see tomorrow. The fic that made me bother to even give this ship a chance in the first place. Hilariously, I will probably not yap about it nearly as much as the previous two, even if I love it. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[danganronpa96]

idk if this is the right place to ask but what was the planned story of despair gang? (if you're okay with answering!)

At this point I have to be honest with myself and realise that no, I’m probably never going to go back to that fic considering all the plans I have for myself for the future (lol)

In that case, I’m finally going share what was going to happen in the rest of the plot (fun fact chapter 6 had already been half written before I stopped working on it rip)

So, for anyone curious, I’m going to leave a link to the unfinished chapter 6 (with some extra notes and art) and the rest of the plot under the cut

So, I kind of split the story into 5 acts and an epilogue, and chapter 6 was the start of act 2. Bear in mind I only wrote down a vague plan of the story as the majority of it was in my head at the time.

Chapter 6: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1p8uFhqoSiFgyAz5PYmYn1O7EHHVPkZXF3xMi_d4b7to/edit?usp=sharing

When it cuts back to the gang, before making it to the apartments, they come across a basketball court full of Monokumas in their way. They deal with them together as a team.

They then have a round of basketball together (Rin and Papyrus vs. Hajime and Matt) — Hajime manages to score the final dunk only because of the help of Izuru, who he quickly attempts to repress as the others cheer for him.

Afterwards, they find the apartments and settle into one that’s the least destroyed and messy.

Rest of Act 2:

At one point, the gang find a playground where Rin and Matt go on the swings. They talk about what they should do after the tragedy, mentioning theme parks, which sparks Hajime to chime in. Rin and Matt then go to the bathroom, leaving Hajime and Papyrus alone. Papyrus tries to talk to Hajime about what happened at the basketball court.

Another day, Hajime and Papyrus go out to find entertainment for Rin and Matt after the two complain about having nothing to do. Hajime gets his leg slashed by a Monokuma during an ambush, so Papyrus carries him to a bookstore where he can safety bandage him. He then gives Hajime a pep talk about his confidence. Hajime wants to say something back, but Monokumas once again catch them off guard, forcing them to flee back to the apartment.

Another day, Papyrus and Rin go out on a supply run while Hajime heals from his injury. During this time, Hajime gets to know Matt better, where he talks about his time working for Despair Melody (and puppy crush on Parappa).

There was going to be a scene where Hajime and Papyrus end up in an arena similar to the UDG game but instead of fighting a child, Gumi invites them into the middle of the arena for a challenge, demanding she gets Rin if she wins. However, Hajime and Papyrus manage to win, so Gumi cuts off her finger much to their horror.

The end of Act 2 would have the gang’s apartment being found and burned, forcing them to flee into the sewers.

Act 3:

After navigating the sewers for a while, they come onto land again where they realise they’ve ended up in a district all about Miku: billboards, flyers, merch stores, and music all around. They would go onto infiltrate Despair Melody’s base (which is the Parappa Town school). I think this was because they were going to use it to gain good reception to contact Future Foundation (and talk to Nagito and Parappa).

Act 4:

In an act of defiance and manic, Gumi kills Sunny. The gang wait atop the rooftop (of the school I’m assuming, perhaps to be picked up by Future Foundation) but are ambushed by Gumi, who they see has replaced her chopped off finger with Miku’s somehow. They would then flee through riots in the streets (probably Despair Melody’s doing) where they loose Matt during the escape. However, Izuru finally manifests, allowing Papyrus and Rin to be captured while he flees.

(I don’t remember what act this was going to be, but at one point while sitting alone, Hajime would finally gain the courage to tell Papyrus about Sans, but to his surprise, Papyrus figures it out himself. The two then have a hurt/comfort moment about it.)

Act 5:

Hajime is awoken/saved by AI Teto (was gonna be a whole other plot thing lol). Hajime then locates and saves Papyrus. As the two go to find Rin, AI Teto would take over a Monokuma and ensue some hijinks. Gumi would tell Rin the truth about Len: that he’s dead. He was the body that Miku used in the 3rd case of the 69th killing game that they dressed up as Miku (yes this is actually canon when Teto says “I didn’t want Miku to kidnap—” but cuts herself off in the 6th trial, she was going to spill that they kidnapped Len for that case). They save Rin and confront Gumi. Izuru manifests again, but this time to finish off Gumi himself by slashing her stomach.

I don’t know how this happens but in the plan it then says ‘the building explodes as the three are rescued by a Future Foundation helicopter’.

(I also assume this is the act where Hajime is finally true with his feelings towards Papyrus and is 100% reciprocated c’mon c’mon reverse sansmaeda real and true)

Epilogue:

The gang (I srsly don’t know what happened to Matt at this point maybe he was already on the helicopter that would be cool) join Future Foundation as the world starts to be rebuilt together. Gumi, who didn’t die, is put into the hope rehabilitation program.

Bonus: Hajime and Papyrus adopt Rin and Matt and now live as a family because a human and a skeleton can fall in love and raise a singing robot girl and a dog boy. The end :)

Also for anyone wondering, the participants of Sunny’s killing game were all planned to just die in the explosion, but hey wouldn’t it be funny if they were all found and rescued at the end instead 👍

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Whenever the Bats would complain about any of their tech malfunctioning, Bruce would definitely be the type of dad to go "Back in the days, I didn't even have that" (and of course he overdoes it) :

Dick : This grappling gun's jammed again !

Bruce : Be grateful. I used to scale buildings by hand with a hook and rope.

Dick : Yeah, yeah.

---

Tim : The encryption program is too slow to crack this file.

Bruce : I cracked codes with a pencil, paper, and a lot of staring.

Tim : [rolls his eyes]

---

Jason : The comms in my helmet cut out mid-fight. How am I supposed to fucking coordinate with the other dickwads ?!

Bruce : When I started, I had no comms. Hand signals and pigeons were my options.

Jason : ... Pigeons ?

Bruce : Yeah, now quit whining.

---

Damian : Father ! My sword tracker isn’t syncing properly !

Bruce : Know what I used to do when I lost track of my gear on the field ? I used this thing called "my eyes" to find it. Maybe try that.

---

Barbara : The Batcomputer is practically prehistoric at this point. Maybe it’s time to invest in an upgrade.

Bruce : Prehistoric ? I started with a notebook and an encyclopedia. Plus, I had to cross-reference everything manually. How’s that for prehistoric ?

Barbara : Sure, Grandpa.

---

Cass : My night vision is acting up. Can you fix it ?

Bruce : When I first started, I had to rely on the moonlight. You’ve got infrared, thermal imaging, and sonar. Don’t take it for granted.

Cass : ...

Bruce : ... Fine, I’ll fix it.

---

In the group chat.

Tim : Just survived another sermon about the olden days and gratitude. I swear, I’ve got a migraine.

Steph : Yikes. What was it about this time ?

Jason : Let me guess. How he had to hack into systems using a pocket calculator and sheer willpower ?

Tim : Close. It was how he used to decode encrypted files by hand and climb five stories to cut the power while it rained.

Steph : Classic. Did he end with the “you don’t know how easy you have it” speech ?

Tim : Oh, absolutely. With a bonus lecture about how he built the Batcomputer.

Jason : Next time, just tell him you don’t care.

Tim : And risk another hour ? No thanks.

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover ! (part 2)

featuring: sunday, aventurine, blade (+ black swan, acheron) [ part 1: dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, kafka, jingliu. ]

notes: well. the long awaited part 2 is here! (i took absolutely wayyy too long to finish this but a lovely anon requested the penacony cast so i just waited until now haha) stay tuned for either a future aventurine fic or a sunday fic tho; reblogs are appreciated! main masterlist.

Sunday

About [Name]: Ah, you speak of my beloved. [Name] has managed to strike your interest as well? Heh, I'm joking. You aren't that type of person, no? ….But yes, my lover truly is quite stellar, if not incomparable. I doubt I'd find anyone in the universe as lovely as I do them.

About [Name]: Smitten Robin often jokes about how my eyes change whenever I see them. ‘Softens like the smitten man you are,’ she says. Well, my sister is hardly wrong about matters of the heart, and to be fair, her words are indeed correct. While I cannot be with them every second of the day, despite my only wish to do so…. I suppose this much is fine. At the very least, this bewitched version of myself shall ward any that dare take [Name] away from me.

About [Name]: Preparation. …My mansion has everything [Name] shall ever desire. As for I, what I only desire is them alone, and for them to be right by my side. When the time is right, what's mine shall also be theirs, and none shall ever separate the two of us again. Should anyone attempt it, well, there's a reason my mansion is built the way it is.

Aventurine

About [Name]: [Name], [Name], [Name].... I see that you too have an eye for priceless treasures. Unfortunately for you, this particular one is already mine to behold. Mm, I wonder how my lover must be faring right now…. Missing them is truly, horribly debilitating.

About [Name]: Unworthy Whenever I think of [Name] being with me, of all people… Sometimes, the thought is unbearable. To think they would care for someone like me…. How truly lucky I am. Or maybe it's the other way around? Hehe, take a guess.

About Topaz: Contradictory Topaz and [Name] get along fairly well, despite her rather obvious dislike for me. Nonetheless, I suppose I can understand why. My lover is irresistibly charming~ Now, does this make me jealous, I wonder…. How about we bet on that?

Blade

About [Name]: Though this sword may be battered and broken, if you harbor any intention of harm towards them, I will not hesitate to brandish this blade.

About [Name]: Mara Infliction When afflicted with mara, the senses are ravaged ceaselessly, muddying the mind—being unable to distinguish ally from foe. This is my path. And yet their face is clear, pure amidst the carnage, alleviating the haze for but a moment. My mind may be overridden with hatred, but I will never forget that feeling of salvation.

(BONUS: Kafka’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Truly A Shame Bladie’s little darling, hm? Definitely a wonder, that one, taming him so easily. Those two are definitely an interesting case, that's for sure. Scary, marastruck Blade and them…. truly a shame. Even I know just how the ending of that particular script will end.

Acheron

About [Name]: …They are my lover, yes. Hm? Tell you more about them? Heh, I think you'd have better luck asking [Name] instead of me. I probably wouldn't even know where to begin.

About [Name]: Keeping Memories Despite the fact of my memories being in less than the best condition, [Name] always tells me about all the exciting things they've come across, whether it be delicious food from various planets, or even the most mundane things like the sound of the rushing water, the sight of fireflies in the night. They truly make everything worth remembering.

(BONUS: Black Swan’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Eye Of The Storm Ah, you speak of that Galaxy Ranger's companion…. The abyss that is her consciousness seems to only become calm in the face of them, akin to the eye of the storm. A shining light in the middle of nothingness—that is something that even she cannot let go of. No wonder Miss Acheron is quite taken with them.

Black Swan

About [Name]: The memories of Memokeepers are sorted into various categories by their importance. As my lover, my memories of them hold the greatest value of all. Such memories…. even if the Remembrance wishes for me to hand them over, I doubt I will ever allow it.

About [Name]: Dancing My proficiency in the act of dancing is all thanks to my continued practice with [Name] on our shared time together. Fufu, ‘dates,’ if you will. Every moment I spend in their arms, swaying to the beat of the music at every turn… those are the memories I wish to forever retain.

About Acheron: Indebted One time, Miss Acheron managed to get lost in the middle of the Reverie Hotel’s halls... as usual. [Name] came across her then, and proceeded to have a lovely chat with her. I owe her a debt for keeping my lover company as I was preoccupied with some matters the Garden of Recollection entrusted to me to relay to the family. Next time, perhaps I should invite her over for some dinner with [Name]....

end notes thanks for sticking around the part 2 (for the ogs who read pt 1) and do look forward to more HSR content in the future! also did i say i love aventurine

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[cloudystevie]

How would bucky react to his wife being known as a milf😭 jealous or proud

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warnings: pda, possessiveness, you and bucky are married and have a 3 year old son😊 and no actual smut but some allusions to it

author’s note: i think he’d be a mix of both but he only knows how to be possessive about it!!! sorry if this is not what you wanted but it is unfortunately the way my mind worked😓

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆.

18+ only minors dni.

Bucky’s not blind. He knows you’re beautiful inside and out and how your energy reflects on everything you do. The kindness in your heart and the serenity in your soul attract people to you. The fact that you’re the most gorgeous person on the planet is just a little added bonus.

This Saturday afternoon is spent shopping for a new summer wardrobe for your three-year-old son and maybe snagging a couple of cute pieces for yourself.

Bucky completely clears his schedule every weekend without fail to devote time to you and your child together. This one starts with a brunch. You are dressed up all sweet and pretty for him in a dainty white sundress, enhancing your body in all the best ways. You look breathtaking, and Bucky hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to behave for the rest of the day until he can get you back into the bed.

You seem to have caught the attention of the young waiter, whose pale skin grows a splotchy red every time you thank him for his service. He stutters out a thank you, boldly initiating eye contact but quickly darting away when Bucky sits up just a little bit straighter, a little bit taller.

Later, after a successful shopping trip, you hold back a giggle as your son darts around the playground while you are seated next to Bucky on the bench.

“What’s so funny, baby?” he furrows his eyebrows, still a bit peeved at how the sales associate at the previous boutique you three visited wanted to set you up with her son. Showing you pictures and talking him up. Bucky was busy on the other end of the store, letting your son wander around to burn off more energy. His ears perked up at your conversation with the older lady. He argues that what he did was not petty or childish in the slightest, but the way he all but stalked over to you just to place a possessive hand on your waist and an almost vulgar kiss on your lips had the poor lady coughing in discomfort as she quickly busied herself with folding clothes.

Then suddenly, your son appeared and began poking at your calf, “Mama, can we go now?” While you remained breathless with your cheeks burning, Bucky quickly snatched him up, kissing his forehead before leading you two out of the boutique. A few minutes later, you’re in the car, and your son gets your attention from the backseat. " Mama, mama!” you reply, turning around as Bucky pulls out of the parking spot. " Yes, baby?”

“Dada said we have to save you from the monster lady! He said she was going to steal you from us! Did we safe you, mama? " His chubby face is twisted in concern.

You looked at Bucky with narrow eyes, a light smile tugging at your lips: " Yeah, baby, you saved me. Thank god I have you and Dada to protect me!” Bucky just had a smug smile on his face, not at all ashamed of what he had done. Your son giggled in agreement, no longer concerned and instead focused on the cars passing by. You fiddled with Bucky’s fingers on your thigh as you admired him while he was driving when he leisurely brought your hand to his face, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“Nothing,” you giggle, watching your son run around the slide instead of sliding down it, “I just think it’s cute how jealous you get.” Your voice has a teasing lilt as you look up at him, playfully squishing his cheeks together. Bucky rolls his eyes, his hand grabbing your wrist gently to easily remove it from his face as he moves your hand to trace over the diamond ring adorning your ring finger. With a slight smirk, he brings your hand up to kiss your ring finger, intertwining your hands and looking at you with a glint in his eyes.

He brings his face closer to yours, lips hovering but not touching as he speaks lowly, “Our next stop is gonna be a jewelry store. I’m getting you a bigger diamond so everyone knows you’re well taken care of.” He places a peck on your parted lips before turning around and calling for your son, who looks ready for his afternoon nap, as he holds his arms out for Bucky to carry him.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader falling obsessively in love with kny men after getting poisoned

Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; bonus Genya x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: There's no smut going on but it's definitely a close call lol, I just thought this concept is funny so the fics itself and the whole scenarios aren't 100% serious it's getting absolutely heated in every single one though hehe, Not proofread bc I literally finished this last minute before my flight lol, I'm currently in Greece when this gets published so surprise ya girl with your support until she's back 🤍

Rengoku Kyojuro

“And you’re sure this is safe?”, you question while looking up at Shinobu with frightful eyes.

It should be fine. After all, Shinobu is the one who invented a medicine that is supposed to finally force your headache away. She’s a professional, so well-educated that even Kagaya-sama’s very own children get treated by her.

Even though she didn’t have the chance to test this medicine, you should be fine.

Right?

“As you know, I’ll never promise something I can’t keep, (y/n). But you’re here with me and if something goes wrong, I will find a way”, she tries to reassure you, only to spike your panic up even higher.

“Listen Shinobu, maybe I’ll try something e-“

Before you’re able to finish your sentence and stop her, you feel a needle poking through your arm oh so gently.

For a moment, you simply sit there and blink in confusion. Huh, not as bad as you thought. It really seems like your headache slowly but surely starts fainting away while the medicine burns every so slightly through your veins.

Not bad at all.

Until your heartbeat picks up so suddenly that your eyes dart wide open. Like in trance, you yank out of the chair you were sitting in, orbs darting around without a real aim while frantically searching for something.

Or rather someone.

What a quiet and peaceful day it is to roam around the beautiful butterfly estate. Rengoku actually didn’t even plan to come here. After all, he isn’t injured nor does he need something from Shinobu-san. To be honest, he’s only here because of you.

You told him yesterday that you’ll see Shinobu today in order to test medicine that is supposed to end your ongoing headaches. You were a little frightened when you thought about getting an injection, so it was never a question for Rengoku to be there for you. Hopefully, he made it on time.

“Kyojuro.”

He furrows his eyebrows and turns towards that unusual seductive voice.

When your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe. There you stand, your kimono opened just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your chest like never before. But what simply sweeps him off his feet are your eyes. As gorgeous and captivating as ever, but this time igniting an so unknown spark, inviting him to a silent dance.

“(y/n), are you feeling alright?”

Your hips swing from side to side as you draw closer to him and place your hand straight over his beating heart.

“I’m feeling better than ever before, Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro can’t help but blush deeply, eyes widening in surprise. A nervous smile plays on his lips while he stammers slightly, unable to hide his flustered state. Is this really you, the secret love of his life, discovering his body with your bare hands? The second your flat palms start wandering over his back, his hands start to fidget. Out of instinct, he avoids eye contact, his very own hands now keeping you in place.

“W-What’s going on. (y/n)?”, he stammers like he never did before.

“Take me, Kyojuro.”

His eyes grow even wider, usual confidence momentarily faltering like a house of cards.

“I-I…um, what?”

With a force he didn’t even know you have, you shove him against a nearby tree, your knee gliding between his legs.

“I want you since the first time I saw you. I won’t wait for another opportunity when you’re right here.”

“(y/n)…D-did you already meet Shinobu-san?”

Are you sick or injured? A quick scan of your body reveals nothing that could indicate a serious wound. No, to be precise, you reveal nothing but your soft curves, your gorgeous frame he has never seen like this before. With your kimono slightly opened and the cleavage that peaks at him oh so invitingly…He never felt your hands pressed against his chest like that before, never got a taste of how well you fit inside of his arms.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly, forces his own mind back to reality. This isn’t the (y/n) he knows. You’d never sneak up on him like this, even if the words you just spoke are true.

Oh, please let them be true.

“All I care about is you”, you purr, face now only inches away from his.

If his back wasn’t pressed against a tree already, Kyojuro would lose his balance for sure. He was always captivated by that gorgeous colour your eyes have, never able to look away. But now, with that dark gleam inside of them, your hands wrapped around his neck. A little innocent kiss, a dream that comes true right here and now-

“(y/n), come back right now!”, a voice cries behind him so suddenly that he jumps up inside the cage of your comforting arms.

“We are here, Shinobu-san!”, he replies automatically.

Only to regret his words instantly. Just one second more and his lips would have touched yours, only a few moments more in your embrace before it all ends again. It takes him all his strength to let go of you when Shinobu arrives with an injection ready in her hand.

“I’m beyond sorry, Rengoku-san! (y/n)’s strange behaviour is all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in just a moment.”

Faster than he’s even able to comprehend the insect pillar’s words, she sticks a needle into your arm and releases the injection.

You blink a few times, head spinning uncontrollably as you stumble backwards. Where are you? What happened? Your head pounds so roughly against your skull that you feel like puking any given minute.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?”, Shinobu’s comforting voice rings in your ears.

Slowly but surely, your foggy vision starts to get clear again.

“Since when are you so tall, Shinobu?”, you mumble absently.

“It’s me, (y/n). Kyojuro.”

Oh.

“Kyojuro!”, you mumble in utter surprise.

“But…what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I-I…I need to go now”, the flame hashira announces before turning on his heels and walking away.

You stare at his back in nothing but confusion. What is wrong with him? Is he not feeling well, maybe?

“Is it just me or does Kyojuro walk very strange today?”, you question, earning endless giggles from Shinobu next to you.

“He does indeed.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“Watch out idiot, you’re gonna get hit!”, the white-haired man barks harshly at you before dashing towards again.

It happened faster than you were ready to react. A little troll through the woods at night, a deep conversation with the wind hashira. And just a few seconds later, an upper-ranked demon appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t let it hit you, (y/n)!”

“I’m not stupid, dumbass!”, you bite back while dodging another hit with a tendril.

What a strange-looking demon that woman is. With countless pink tendrils that act as her hair and her long tongue, she really looks different from every demon you’ve seen before.

“Still fighting for your love, you fool?”, she jeers at Sanemi before trying to hit him once again.

"I will show you what love really is! It's a consuming fire that burns away your sense of self, leaving you hollow and desperate. It's an obsession that blinds you to reality, making every thought, every breath, every heartbeat revolve around the one person who becomes your entire world. In this love, you lose your freedom, your identity, and your sanity, as you sacrifice everything to feed the insatiable hunger that never goes away-“

“Can you just stop talking shit, ugly bitch? I just wanna go home”, Sanemi interrupts her dryly

You chuckle to yourself. As if a demon would know anything about love. Their only purpose on this earth is to kill innocent humans for the fun of it.

“What the hell do you know about love, huh? All you do is destroying it”, you blurt out.

Just a moment of sloppiness, a second of turning your back to the tendrils that surround you like a prison. The second you feel it, it’s already too late.

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries out, feet rapidly carrying him to your side in order to slice through that fucking piece of tendril that pierced itself through your leg.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, saves you from clashing onto the ground. But the second you open your eyes again, they don’t look like they did before. No, you look obsessed.

“Hey, look at me (y/n). Come back to me”, he insists, a slight tone of panic now taking over his usual so harsh voice.

What if that bitch poisoned you? Shinobu is miles away, there’s no way in hell he’d make it on time. And even now, tendrils continue to circle both of you, waiting for an opportunity to hurt him as well.

“Just see what love does to you! You’ll have to kill her!”

“What the fuck are you talking about”, he hisses under his breath.

“(y/n)?”

“Sanemi.”

Your voice sounds dark, unpromising, coated in something he’s never heard before.

“Hey, are ya alright?”

You’re moving too fast for him to react. In the split of a second, you sit on top of him, your hands holding his in place while your lips start tracing up and down his neck.

For a moment, Sanemi forgets how to exist.

You’re sitting on top of him.

With your lips pressed against his neck.

Almost instantly, blood shoots up his face and straight into his private parts, eyes widen in…horror?

No, not because of you, not because he doesn’t enjoy to finally feel you this close. But this isn’t you. This is the poison of that fucking demon.

Just before he gets hit as well, he slices through another tendril that was ready to attack both of you.

“You can’t save her and yourself!”, the demon shouts at him in sheer amusement.

“Your love will get you killed!”

“(y/n).”

His voice is as tender as never before, hands now grabbing your arms oh so gently.

“You need to come back to me, okay? This isn’t you, this isn’t…how you feel for me.”

He hates the way his heart starts aching as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s no way in hell someone like you would ever fall for someone like him if it wasn’t for that demon. Not when you’re so gorgeous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so smart-

“But I love you, Sanemi! And I need you!”, you cry out, lips now only inches away from meeting yours.

“You don’t love me, (y/n). How could you ever love me?”

“Let me show you.”

Just before your hand gets the chance to grab his pants, he swings you around in order to lay on top of you – completely out of breath and flustered like never before.

“You need to focus. We need to kill that bitch”, he tries to remind you while dodging another wave of attacks with his free hand.

“You’ll need to kill her!”

“Shut up!”, he barks at the demon behind him.

But that thing’s right. With you writhing like a snake underneath him and those countless merciless attacks, he can concentrate on neither.

“I’m the only one who’s able to save her-“

“I said shut up!”

“(y/n), please get yourself together”, he breathes out.

God, why do you have to look so damn tempting with your legs wrapped around his waist and eyes as flustered as he’s never seen before? Countless lonely nights, he imagined what you might look like, feel like, sound like.

But this isn’t real. That sudden outburst of love isn’t real.

“Looks like you’re busy, Shinazugawa. Maybe you should do things like that somewhere other than on the battlefield”, a painfully known voice comments behind him dryly.

“Shut up at take care of that bitch. I need to look after (y/n)”, he instructs the serpent hashira sharply before picking you up and sprinting into the woods.

“I need you. Please”, you beg between his arms, the way your hands roam around his chest simply driving him insane.

“You can’t help her!”, a faint female voice cries behind both of you.

Screw that fucking demon. He needs to get the real you back, needs to finally confess his damned feelings. Even if all of this is nothing but poison, he simply can’t live like this anymore. Not when you’re so close to him every day, not when he secretly can’t get enough of that sight in front of him right now.

“Come back to me, (y/n)”, he almost begs while letting you down.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? What if he’s not able to help you? Even if he sends after Shinobu, you might go insane until she arrives. And what if you do something stupid, what if he isn’t able to protect you? And what if this isn’t the only thing that cursed poison does?

“Don’t you love me? I thought you like me back, I thought we have a future together, I…I can’t do this without you!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs while bursting out in tears.

“What? I never said that-“

“I don’t wanna live without you. I…I’ll end this!”

It happens almost too fast for him to react. In the matter of milliseconds, you grab your sword and direct it towards your throat, ready to slice it open with full-force.

“You little idiot”, he hisses through gritted teeth while forcing your blade away.

“I love you so fucking much that it hurts, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about constantly! Can’t you see that you’re driving me crazy since joining the corps!? I love you, (y/n)! I always did and I definitely always will! You’ve got me trapped, goddamn!”

And then he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, passionately, as if you’re air and he cannot breathe. Never in his life, Sanemi longed for something so small yet so big. Each and every night, his mind wandered to your lips, your laugh, just you and your fucking perfect self. He can’t stand the thought of you talking about yourself so badly. Him not loving you? Are you fucking insane?

“Sanemi.”

You breathe his name against his lips oh so sweetly.

Sweetly, with that cheeky undertone he knows so well.

“Is that you, (y/n)?”

When he opens his eyes again, he gets greeted by the gleaming kindness that radiates from your orbs just inches away from his.

“I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you like that…”, you mutter with reddened cheeks.

How embarrassing. You can’t believe you were about to touch his groin without permission. Even if you were poisoned, what the hell has gotten into you? And why do you have to remember all the things you’ve said and done? That would have been the least that cursed poison could have done…

“Don’t be, it’s fine”, Sanemi replies equally awkward.

“But…are you actually into me?”, you mumble followed by a swift gaze.

“I…I mean…-“

“He totally is”, Obanai barges into the conversation from behind.

Giyu Tomioka

“Didn’t you say that-ah! This was supposed to be easy?”, you press out while fighting a bunch of demons.

You really have no idea how you ended up here. Just a few seconds ago, you were having the best sleep of the week when your crow interrupted your slumber as rude as ever and literally dragged you onto the battlefield straight on his side.

His side. Giyu Tomioka, to be exact. The mysterious yet captivating water hashira you are eyeing since the first day of joining the chosen circle of pillars. What is it that ties you onto him like a chain, that forces your mind to wander towards him each and every day without any break?

“I will take care of the right side. Stay focused”, he instructs you as absent as ever, not even sending you a single look while your heart is all over the place.

It’s ridiculous and you know it all too well. A man like Giyu would never fall for someone as clumsy and unsettled at you. He will never look at you the way you look at him, not even daring to send you a single smile. Because you’re nothing but comrades, distant known. If it wasn’t for your responsibilities as pillar, he would have never even talked to you.

And you absolutely hate the way this stinging fact bugs you every single day of your life.

“You’re not focused enough, stupid girl”, a voice way too close suddenly purrs inside your ear.

There’s no time left to react. Not even Giyu Tomioka is able to reach you in time when the demon scratches your neck oh so slightly.

Only enough to spill your blood.

Only enough to make you go absolutely insane.

Your mind gets flooded by a wave of emotions, memories, thoughts. All at once. So rapidly that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing hurts more but the truth. Did you ever wonder about what she might feel for you, even love, maybe? I will reveal her darkest secrets, her thoughts that were never said out loud. And when she finally loses her mind completely, I will force her to kill you and afterwards herself!”

Giyu’s eyes widen at those words. You, loving him? He never even dared to think about something like this, not when you are admired by everyone around you. Why would you fall for someone as quiet and boring as him?

He swallows hard. But knowing that deep inside him is definitely different from hearing those words coming out of your mouth.

“Giyu.”

Your voice sounds cold and distant, eyes completely blank.

“(y/n), I will get you out of here, I’m sure Shinobu is able to-“

“I love you.”

You hate him.

No.

You love him?

“And I’ve loved you for so long that I lost count a long time ago. I love the way you walk, the way you inspect the world around you so carefully. I love how tender you are when it comes to children. I love your kindness, your calm voice-“

“Wait, this wasn’t supposed to go like this!”, the demon cries out.

“I love the feeling of your eyes set on me even though I know I’d never stand a chance. You are so much more than a friend to me, so precious that it hurts. And I can’t help but imagine myself lying inside your arms every night. I can’t help but stare at you whenever I catch you training. I can’t stop those butterflies from invading my stomach every time you’re around. I love you with all my heart even though I know you’d never love me back.”

HIs mind goes blank, ocean blue eyes staring at you in sheer disbelief. Suddenly everything else around you goes silent. The demon, the screams from afar. All he’s able to see is you with those tears glistening in your orbs.

Giyu’s heart skips a beat when he begins to realize.

You really mean it. Every word you just said is true.

“But I do feel the same way about you”, he finally replies while cupping your hands with his.

“I just never thought someone like you would fall for someone like me.”

“I would always choose you”, you clarify in an instant.

And then your eyes roll back into your skull, your lifeless body threatens to hit the cold ground.

-later-

“Giyu? Where’s Giyu?”, you croak out before you even open your eyes, your heart hurting so bad that you feel like puking.

What happened? All you’re able to remember is Giyu’s hands intertwined with yours before everything turned black. Or was it just a dream?

“Finally, I was so worried about you, (y/n).”

But no. At this very moment, he still holds onto your hand tightly while looking down at you with his brows furrowed.

“What happened?”

“You were poisoned by a demon and lost consciousness. I carried you to the butterfly estate”, he explains as briefly as ever.

“You…carried me?”

“Of course I did. You were unconscious, like I said.”

“Did we hold hands?”, you blurt out so suddenly that you even scare yourself.

You can feel Giyu sliding back and forth on his chair, eyes avoiding yours at any cost. Oh no, did you make him feel uncomfortable? What if he’s annoyed because of your foolish mistake? You should have never asked him-

“(y/n), do you remember the conversation we’ve had on the battlefield?”, he questions with unspoken hope glimmering inside his orbs.

“I…I don’t remember anything…”, you finally admit.

What did you talk about? Did you insult him? And what about that demon? That thing definitely wasn’t a lower ranked demon.

“You told me you love me.”

Your heart leaves your body and soul behind, glossy eyes staring at him in sheer disbelief. Fuck, did you hear that correctly? You told him you love him?

“I…I said that?”, you stutter.

“I mean…M-maybe I h-hit my head a l-little too h-“

“And I love you too.”

Oh.

This is even more ridiculous.

“You love me?”, you shriek in reply.

“I never thought about the possibility that you might actually like me back. But when that demon poisoned you, when you told me that you love me…I can’t keep this lie up any longer. I love you, (y/n).”

Gently, he wraps his comforting arms around your aching body, allows you to take in his calming scent.

“It embarrasses me that it took a demon to finally say this out loud.”

“But…would you mind telling me what I said?”, you mumble against his neck.

He lifts up your head enough for you to catch a glimpse of his breath-taking smile.

“I’d rather keep these words for myself.

Bonus: Genya Shinazugawa

“Where’s (y/n)!?”, Mitsuri cries out in sheer panic while darting around the estate in a haste.

“(y/n)? I’ve seen her on her way to the hot springs just a few moments ago”, Tanjiro replies in utter confusion.

“Is there somebody else, Tanjiro-kun?”, Mitsuri continues while grabbing Tanjiro’s shoulders roughly.

“Hello, Genya”, you purr.

“(y-y/n)!? What the hell are you doing here, I’m taking a bath!”, Genya cries out with his cheeks already bright red.

But instead of getting lost like he told you to, you let your towel fall to the floor.

And stand in front of him.

Completely naked.

“What are you doing!?”, he shrieks.

In the matter of seconds, he turns himself away from you, his face burning like a thousand fires. Fuck, he’s already flustered when you’re around him in your uniform. But you, butt-naked, in the same hot spring? He’ll definitely die here.

“I needed to see you. There’s actually something I wanted to tell you in a long time, Genya.”

When the water around him starts to move due to you entering the hot spring, he feels like dying out of excitement and fright. You shouldn’t be here together, not when you’re completely naked, not alone. He never prepared himself for something like this to happen, didn’t even allow his mind to wander such places. Fuck, what is he supposed to do?

Suddenly, he finds himself whirled around in your arms, your chest pressed against his.

Your very naked chest.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Come on, I saw the looks you were giving me when you thought I wasn’t watching”, you purr while drawing small circles onto his chest.

“I…no…I didn’t mean it…that way…I just think that…that you are awesome. And cute…”, Genya mumbles.

“(Y/N)!”

Another splash, another butt-naked woman that now grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the water with impressive strength.

“I’m so sorry, Genya! I fear (y/n) mistook the love portion I made for juice!”, Mitsuri bubbles while trying to tame you down.

“CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!?”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker

[sweetinsaniiity]

Sick, Little Games

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - psycho!blackmailer!mingi x fem!reader!Y/N ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, blackmail, gaslighting, Mingi is kind of a dom!, restraint (via rope), public sex (fingering), semi-exhibitionism, hair-pulling, reluctance, corruption kink, it becomes consensual, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), cum swapping/transferring, fluff, falling in love ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, violence, mentions of dubcon, CNC (consensual-non-consensual) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 20K (I swear I tried to make this shorter) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - All you wanted was to go home and relax on a Friday night, so you take the subway. There, you encounter a man whose character prevents you from leaving. No seriously, he literally prevents you from leaving by tying a rope on your wrists while holding the other end with his big, strong hands. The rope isn't the only thing those hands will hold tonight. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Welp this one is a little darker, let me know if I missed a couple of tags. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent Ateez in real life. Join the taglist here. Title from All Time Low. BONUS CHAPTER IS UP! ◄

Home is all I ever wanted to be right now. The thought of my warm, cozy bed with me on it buried under my fluffy blanket is making me walk faster towards my destination - the subway.

I sighed in relief when I noticed there weren't many people, in fact there was literally no one at all except maybe the occasional passing of the cleaners and one man who was standing idly by the edge of the platform, I'm assuming he was also waiting for the next train.

I could feel his eyes staring me down even though I stood ten feet away from him. Maybe he was surprised to see somebody still waiting like him? Either way, when he didn't look away, I knew I had to make small talk to make things less awkward.

"It's finally the weekend now, huh?" I greeted him.

He was tall, maybe at six feet give or take, and he wore jeans partnered with a black blouse underneath a blacker cardigan that hung nicely against his toned frame. 

He tilted his head at me curiously and a slow smirk creeped up on his face. "Yes, it is. What's a lady like you doing out here so late at night?"

"Oh, I have a part time job at the restaurant a couple of blocks away from here, shift ended late," I replied cheerily.

He raised a brow up. "You look awfully young to be working."

"No, well, technically I'm still in university."

"Oh? Where?"

"Seoul University, I'm in my third year."

A slight smile tilted his thick lips upward. "Interesting. I graduated there three or four years ago. How are you liking it so far?"

I glanced at nowhere in particular to give it some thought. "I suppose it's okay," I shrugged, "I only have one year left anyway."

He bit his lips and nodded slowly. "Third year's usually the time when you get sick of what you're doing and you end up hating everything."

I giggled in amusement. "Well that's an interesting way to look at it, you've been in my shoes once so I understand."

He stares at me deeper, his smirk growing wider. "Too harsh?"

"No," I shook my head. "You were just telling the truth."

"I suppose I was," he chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Y/N," I said without missing a beat. "You?"

He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he replied. "Call me Min for now."

I frowned. That was odd. Your name isn't usually something you think about because it's an automatic response.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he coolly puts his hands in his jean pockets.

I grinned at him. "Glad I have your approval, Min. Are you always like this to people you see on the subway?"

I saw a small shiver go through him before he pursed his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged. "You never know who crosses your path one day."

Something about his tone and the way he said it made it sound like he hit the jackpot, but I ignored it. Maybe it was just in my head, I mean, I am pretty tired today.

It got silent again after that. I was finally able to stare at him a little better. 

He was insanely handsome - hot, actually - he had short, dark hair that was equally messy and slicked back neatly, and it didn't help that he wore these black, thick, squared type glasses, and it made him look so charismatic.

I looked at him again when his deep voice startled me. "I don't mean to bother you, but do you have the time on you?"

A mild shiver passed through me, the good kind. His voice was deep. I cleared my throat. "Uh yeah, sure, give me a second..."

He hummed while I took a glance at my phone. I saw him eyeing the phone. "It's a quarter past 10."

He nodded in response, dragging a heavy sigh. "Getting impatient?" I asked in amusement. He scoffed softly.

"Patience is a virtue," I joked.

His sharp eyes pierce my doe-like ones, darkening significantly. "I am not known for my patience," he smirked.

I frowned at his bizarre choice of words, about to retort something profound back, but the distinct sounds of the oncoming train made me swallow my words.

"About damn time," I muttered.

"Patience is a virtue," he mocked.

He started walking towards me with slow, but long strides. He didn't break eye contact with me while doing so, and my heart started erratically breathing. The way he walked reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

I brushed my own thoughts off, that was just absurd. I tried to calm myself by breathing in and out and by the time he reached where I was standing, the train was almost here anyway, so I just ignored him.

Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arm around my waist from behind me. I gasped loudly when his hand squeezed the fleshy part of my waist painfully.

"What the hell are you doing, Min?" I growled, turning my head around to scowl at him, but it was no use. Besides the fact that he was tall, his firm chest pushed out and prevented me from looking at him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, the bad kind.

He pulled me flush against him and now my back was completely touching his frontal body. It sent my body on overdrive and I thrashed this time to try to get free, but it was no use.

"I said," he put his other hand on my shoulder. "Don't move."

The train stopped, the door directly in front of us. I was petrified at this point. This man can do anything to me and none would be the wiser.

After what seemed like forever, the train finally departed and that's when I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. 

"Wait, don't go!" I wailed at the moving train, but it was no use. I despaired, that was the last ride until the next day.

I heard him chuckle from behind me, I felt his chest rumbling at the sound. It all happened so fast; one second he turned me around to face him and the next thing I knew he was tying a rope around my wrists as tightly as he could.

"Should've been louder, maybe someone could have heard you," he paused, looking down on me with his sharp eyes. "Then again, I would have just covered that pretty mouth anyway."

"Wait, please don't do this," I whimpered.

"Why not?" he asked, not stopping from tying a series of complicated knots on my wrists, each tug tighter than before it, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"What do you mean why not?" I couldn't help but snap at him. "You're insane!"

He didn't respond, he unfurrowed his thick brows, once he was done with the last knot. He, then, wrapped the other end of the rope with his own hand.

His face didn't give away any sort of emotion as we stared at each other with what seemed like an eternity. I grew fearful of this man, there was no way I could fight him because he was much, much bigger than me even if I tried.

I tried to back away, but there was only so much I could do because the rope would stop me and tug me back.

"Don't come any closer," I raised my hands, or rather, my fists since my wrists were bound together.

He tilted his head inquisitively, still staring at me impassively. I panicked, tugging my hands as hard as I could and wiggling my wrists to try and loosen the thick rope, but all it did was give me rug burns. He sighed, tugging the rope once, making me pause at my ministrations.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a small voice.

Shrugging, he tugged on the rope again, this time a little forcefully, but not enough for me to get dragged to him. 

"No, wait, please," I pulled my hands harder, stronger, making his brows rise. "Please take it off, I-I'll give you money."

He smirked. "No."

"But--"

"No offense, angel, but I will probably make what you make in two weeks within a day."

"So you don't need me then," I laughed nervously. "Please, just take it off, I won't tell anybody."

Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "I'm not taking it off."

"Why?" I was scared, nervous, desperate at this point.

Min tugged the rope for real this time, I had no choice but to walk to him begrudgingly.

"Because I don't want to," he whispered. He was so close that I could smell the minty gum he was chewing on. "Come here."

He had the audacity to smile at me as he pulled me against his chest again, this time, facing him with my tied wrists between us. "Much better," he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Is this what you do in your spare time? Do you always have a rope on you?"

He raised a brow in amusement. "No. First time actually."

I tried to wiggle away from his vice grip. "Please don't hurt me."

"Never," he shook his head.

"So let me go," I pleaded.

I swallowed, my blood running cold against my veins. There was only one thing I could think of, then. His eyes roamed over my face, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"I'm not going to do whatever you're thinking," he sighed. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"Kind of hard not to assume you're not going to force yourself on me," I chuckled with no humour, cheeks blushing at his crudeness.

"Only if you want to," he grinned. He sighed when he saw no response on my end. "I will not hurt you so long as you don't fight me."

"Let me go then."

"No. I'm not going to repeat myself." It was a flat declaration and there was an underlying threat in his voice. 

"How long are you going to take me captive then?"

"Assuming that I'll even let you go in the first place," he shrugged.

I stared at him in horror. I felt his hand on my arm, the ghost of his touch tickling me, higher and higher up until it reached my hair. He stroked my hair  like a parent soothing their child. 

I gasped when he slightly tugged on it, I was expecting a sting on my scalp, but nothing. He went back to stroking my hair again, then tugging it ever so slightly. I made the mistake of sighing at his touch.

"You like that?" he murmured.

I didn't respond. I felt confused like I have never been before. Not to say that I'm happy that I was a prisoner in his arms, but my body began relaxing before I knew it.

He started tracing random patterns on my back, rendering me even more confused. Strands of my hair were also tucked behind my ear. "Pretty," he murmured again. "It would be a shame if I just..."

I groaned when he tugged my hair a little harder, enough for me to look up at him, but not enough for him to pull my hair out. "Ow!"

"Stop trying to untie them," he pointed at the wrists. "It's not going to work."

I gritted my teeth aggressively. Damn it, I thought, I thought he wouldn't notice me tinkering with the rope as he played with my hair and touched my back. 

My eyes widened when he slowly leaned forward, his face getting close to mine. I panicked, a short burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled myself free from his grasp.

I swung my fists forward, a shocked look passed through Min's face, barely missing his face he quickly ducked down to avoid my hit. I squeaked when he grasped my wrists painfully and pushed me away rather roughly.

"Not bad," he laughed. "That would have been really bad if you actually hit me, yes?"

I ran off in a hurry, but quickly got stopped by the restriction the rope gave me. I hissed in pain, it had managed to dig into my skin a bit and leave red, angry welts on it.

Min frowned at me, his eyes softening as he stared at me trying to soothe the pain. He stood looking at me a few feet apart, his hand outstretched a bit towards my direction as if he wanted to beckon me over.

"You," I exhaled. "You stay where you're at, and stay away from me."

His lips twitched up in delight. "Or what?"

I blabbered like a fish, my mouth agape as my brain went into overdrive. What the hell is wrong with this man? I must've said that aloud, because the way he grinned at me with a look of amusement was making me nervous.

"I'm going to scream," I informed him.

He smiled. "Go ahead."

And so I did. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted, I screeched like a banshee like my life depended on it - well, technically, it does - and I did this for five minutes straight, but nothing. 

I wasn't soft at it either, I was yelling. Min was leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed, silently watching me and letting me do my thing.

I was extremely frustrated at this point. Now that I think about it, it's extremely abnormal to have absolutely nobody around, but then, I remembered that it was a Friday night and everybody was either already resting or getting drunk out of their minds. It didn't help that the subway was also underground.

"It's just you and me, doll face," he stated, biting his bottom lip and chewing on it a bit. "Save yourself the trouble."

"You can't possibly keep me here forever," I scoffed at him.

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "I don't see why that's a bad idea."

"If you think I'm not going to put up a fight with you, then you're sorely mistaken," I sarcastically remarked, pausing when I felt my wrists sting again.

"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, the sound of his raspy voice echoing all over the station. It further solidified the emptiness of the place.

I thought about my next move carefully. He doesn't want money, and to be fair, I had nothing much to offer anyway. He's calm and collected, that means he knows exactly what he is doing. He has a rope, for God's sake, what else can possibly have?

"I'd really like to go home now, I'm exhausted and I have no time for your games, Min, seriously," I pleaded, hoping to try my luck on the poor damsel distress act.

"You don't really have to do anything," he shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do."

I raise my brow at him with a sarcastic lift of my tied hands. He laughed a little. "That doesn't count," he laughed, his chest rising up and down.

I scoffed loudly. "What?" I barked. "Are you for real? How deranged are you? Why are you really doing this?"

He watched me intently, staring at me directly in the eye without blinking. His sharp eyes made me so uncomfortable, like he was undressing me from where I stood just by the motion of his eyes.

His lips lift into a smirk. "Because I can."

Steam started coming out of my ears. I don't care if he kills me or does whatever he wants, I was mad. "Really? Is your birthstone crystal meth?" I sassed, rolling my eyes at him to emphasize my point.

Min raises his brows so high his thick glasses couldn't cover them, then he looks down on the floor, but not before I saw the smallest smile on his face. It was probably the most genuine one I've seen tonight. He was trying not to laugh. 

"What a mouth you have, you sweet little thing," he chuckled. "How about you come closer to me right now?"

"But you said you're not going to make me do things I don't like," I frowned.

His sharp eyes narrowed, staring into my wary ones. "And I stand by that."

He pointed at my wrists with his index finger. I didn't realize he was wearing a lot of rings on his hands, but this one in particular had a nice black ring. "That looks like that hurts."

I stared down at my wrists. Indeed, they were close to being ugly and painful blisters because of how much friction I was causing them, friction I barely noticed because of the adrenaline rush and survival instinct to free myself of this damned thing.

"It does," I admitted. "Because you're letting me suffer by not letting me go."

He shook his head. "That's a strong word. I can make it better," he offered softly.

"How?"

A sly smirk makes its way on his plump lips. He pats the wall beside him, his stare not wavering a bit. "Come," he said softly.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head. "Absolutely not," I snapped. "I'd rather let my wrists rot."

"You sure?"

He was waving a tube of a familiar generic ointment you'd see everywhere, the cocky twinkle in his eyes palpable. I gulped, the stinging sensation on my skin getting a bit more intense at the sight of what could be temporary relief on my end.

But alas, I chose to turn around and ignore him. I heard him sigh loudly from behind me and the distinctness of his cardigan rustling as he moved from his position.

"Seriously now," he began. When I still had my back turned on him and still completely ignoring him, he sneered. "Alright, whatever, I guess."

I peered over at him and saw him leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed again, staring me down. I hissed loudly when I accidentally angled my arm wrong, causing the rope to dig in a bit and rub against the sensitive parts of my skin.

"Fine," I scowled. I held my hand out in the air. "Toss it."

He laughed, his deep, hoarse voice booming towards me. If he wasn't such a jerk, I might have found that sexy. He grinned, taunting me by wiggling his fingers back and forth. 

"No, no, no, sweetie pie," he sneered. "You're going to come here and get it from me."

The colour from my face drained. I bit my lip apprehensively, and I didn't miss the dark and dismal look in his eyes. I don't want to go to him in case he does something shady, but is it better than being restrained?

I scowled at him. Unfortunately, nothing was better than this. My legs felt like lead, heavily treading towards him. He gave me an amused look because I had to crane my head upwards just so I could look at him.

I couldn't help the blush that reddened my ears. Darn this man, he was unfairly good looking. The way he looked at me made my insides flip upside down with anticipation and I did not like it one bit.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

"Actually," he clicked his tongue. "I don't think so."

My brain had a major explosion. I widened my eyes at him. "That deal has already sailed," he smiled, patting my nose with his finger. "My God, you're cute," he commented when I grimaced at him.

"Please, they really hurt," I whined. I wasn't lying at this point, I had sensitive skin due to eczema and the littlest irritation can lead to the worst flare ups that usually last from a couple of weeks to a month depending on how bad they get.

He stared at me with a blank expression, though it is not to be mistaken with nonchalance, no. I can tell he was already calculating in his head on what he should do next.

He puts a finger on his chin, lightly stroking his thumb over it as his scorching gaze pierced through mine. I gulped when he suddenly brought his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose as his eyes peered from above the thick glasses.

His eyes were much sharper than I thought they were when the glasses weren't obstructing them. I had this urge to fold in on myself when he studied me deeper. I have never felt this exposed in my entire life before and I was fully clothed. Warmth spread on my entire lower groin.

"Hands up," he instructed, pushing his glasses back up. I was told and he held the knots that bound me. "I'm going to untie you so I can apply the ointment."

Before I could celebrate the tiny hope he had given me, he continued. "If you try to run away," he said softly, still looking at me. "I'm going to force you back. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded. His fingertips trace my whole arm, smirking when he noticed the goosebumps he had caused, all the way down to my wrists. My breath hitched when he blew on my blistering skin to attempt to calm the redness down.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, his tone soothing my ears with tenderness. "Hold still, yeah? I promise I'll be gentle..."

He worked on the complicated knots he had made, tugging at them until they slowly loosened. He gently and carefully lifted the rope off and caressed the sensitive skin underneath, and just like that I was untied.

Then I made a run for it.

I ran as far as my legs could carry me, and before I knew it I had ran deeper into the isolated part of the station, but I didn't care as long as I could get away from that lunatic. I'll find somewhere temporary to hide and wait until he leaves so I can---

I screamed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and hoisted over Min's left shoulder, my bottom up in the air and my legs flailing around.

"Put me down!" I cried, hitting his back with my fists angrily. 

"Behave."

I shut my mouth at his clipped tone. I did, however, let out another scream in surprise when I felt his hand come down my behind harshly.

Spanking my ass was definitely the last thing I thought he'd do in this ridiculous situation. I was tempted to smack his butt back since it was literally in front me, but I decided against it.

"You're being an awfully naughty girl right now, don't you think?" I can practically hear the smirk on his voice as he walked a bit.

I was set down rather delicately, but I can't say the same when he pushed me against a nearby wall because it was rough. I whimpered when he grabbed my hands and put them up and also pressed them against the wall.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

He was so close to my face, so close that if he only leaned a bit our lips would touch. "What would you like me to do to you?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

"Let me go."

"Except that."

"I will report you to the authorities, someone has to find us eventually," I threatened, or at least that's how it sounded in my ear.

He tilted his head in amusement. "With what information?"

He was right. I only have a first name, but not a family name. He laughed, but his grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can tell them the name I gave you, if that is even my real name, then yes, by all means, sweetheart."

I mustered up the courage to speak. "So what is it, then?"

"Why do you wanna know? So you can scream it for me?"

I looked at him in disgust. "Seriously," I rolled my eyes.

He chuckled lightly. "Hands. And no running."

This time he actually applied the ointment for real on my hands. The way he spread the soothing balm all over the affected area made me sigh in relief, to which he smiled. If we weren't in the most unusually messed up situation right now, I might have swooned at how sweet he was being.

He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, however. The rope was back on my wrists, albeit looser this time.

"Are you going to tell me your real name?" I inquired as we both sat down on the filthy floor of the subway station, our backs leaning against the cool wall.

He met my eyes, the brown orbs analyzing me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You're insufferable."

"What are you willing to give me in return?"

I paused, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. I sighed in defeat when I couldn't think of literally anything. But his smirk told me otherwise.

"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively at his onslaught.

My eyes widened when his fingers traced my cheeks, down to my jawline, and towards my lips. I was frozen on the spot. "You should moisturize your lips often, love," he whispered. 

He pulls on my bottom lip and gently sticks his fingertips in between my lips. "Open up for me."

I put my bound hands on top of his to attempt to push him away, but he was stronger. "Are you being serious right now?" I gaped at him.

"Tick tock, the deal won't be on the table for long," he shrugged.

I glared at him. "You'll give me what I want if I do it?"

His smirk widens. "Yes."

I sighed in defeat, opening up my mouth ever so slightly, but his long, thick fingers forced them to open wider anyway. Butterflies started to form in my stomach and I looked everywhere except him. God, this felt weirdly intimate for some reason.

"Suck."

"Now hold on just a minute," I backed away, effectively swatting his hand away in annoyance. "You did not just ask me to do what I thought you did."

"But I did," he replied cockily.

"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed, incredulous at the ridiculous request. 

I was so annoyed at this point and I wanted nothing but to bang my head against the concrete floor after I banged his.

"You know what to do if you want something out of me," he was tracing my lips again with his finger.

I heaved a long sigh, swallowing all the pride I had and grabbed his arm and with that, I put his index, middle, and ring finger in my mouth while I maintained eye contact with him.

He stared at me with hooded eyes, his gaze significantly darkening with every passing second. He let out a deep groan when I made slurping sounds as I lapped his fingers like it was the tastiest thing I have ever had. I swirled my tongue all over his fingers and even gave his palm a lick.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly, especially when I bit his fingers softly. I alternated between that, licking, and as well as sucking. I was definitely being filthy with it, and it was absolutely humiliating to do whatever this was.

His other hand pushes my head off gently and he withdraws his fingers from my mouth. He sighed sensually when my drool dripped down from his fingers to all over his hand. 

"Here," his voice was thick. I froze when he traced my lips again, but this time, he coated them with my own saliva. "Now they're not dry anymore," he smirked.

He didn't stop there. I stopped breathing when he put the very same fingers in his own mouth. He chuckled at my dumbfounded expression.

The desire that flashed through his eyes took me aback a little when I realized I was trying to discern his taste by smacking my mouth obnoxiously. I blushed, I wasn't doing it on purpose, he had this salty, sensual taste to him that took my breath away.

"So, uhm, what is it?" I questioned, not missing the tremor my voice now held.

"Oh. It's Song."

I waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, but when I realized that he wasn't going to, my patience thinned significantly. "That's it?" I hissed. "Song what?"

"That wasn't part of the deal, you have to be specific next time," he shrugged with his eyes closed, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Ugh! Have you no shame?!"

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at me intently, then leaned a little closer to my face. "If I did," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You wouldn't be here right now."

I instinctively leaned away from him. "At least you're aware ," I mumbled.

It must be closer to midnight now, I can feel it, we've been at this ridiculous game of cat and mouse for a while now. I sighed deeply while I pictured my cat, King, waiting for me home. It's a good thing I overfilled his water and snack bowl today, I just had a gut feeling. Unfortunately, I was correct.

"Penny for your thoughts, water lily?" he asked all of a sudden.

I scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "None of your damn business," I spat.

"That's too bad," he chuckled. "I was hoping to barter an exchange with you again."

That made my ears perk up and my eyes twinkle, but I wasn't buying it. He's cunning, sly, and manipulative. There was no way in hell I was trusting anything he said at this point.

A certain slashing sound sliced through the air and in my peripheral vision, I saw Min holding something in his hand and twirling it around like it was a toy.

I whipped my head back towards him in curiosity and his smirk grew wider at the small gasp I let out.

"Change your mind yet?" he questioned with a beam.

There was a softness to his appearance in conjunction to his rugged features. Truth be told, he was probably the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life and I don't think I will ever find another one that will come close.

I scoffed. "Not only do you have a rope, but you also have a pocket knife on you like it's the most normal thing in the entire world." 

I groaned, swinging my head back and the back of it against the wall in frustration. "What the hell is happening to me lately," I cursed.

I felt something soft instead of the hard wall when I leaned back again.

"What can I say? Having both is part of my work," he muttered, his hand sandwiched between my head and the wall. "Stop before you hurt yourself."

"Work? Well, what are you? A mobster?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He blinked at me a couple of times before he burst out laughing. He was actually laughing, and my heart jumped at the pleasant sound. I stared at him as his body vibrated with mirth, his eyes formed into these tiny crescent as they disappeared from his mouth stretched out in a charming grin. Even his laugh was so damn attractive.

"Why?" he grinned, wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his glasses with the same hand that held hy head from the wall. "Do I look like one to you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, frowning at him. "Are you?"

He surveyed me when he calmed down, gauging I was serious at knowing the answer to my question, but after a moment, he shook his head as he watched me carefully.

"No," he denied with a small smile.

Another laugh escaped him when he saw my irritated expression and amusement was all his eyes showed as he watched me try to cross my arms but failed since my hands were literally bound together and it was borderline impossible to even do anything remotely close.

"Uncomfortable?" he clicked his tongue.

I glared at him intensely. "What do you think?" I hissed, extremely annoyed at the fact that I can't even do anything. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am," he replied, angering me. "Very much so, actually. But I'd enjoy it more if you'd just give in to me."

"Not a chance," I jeered with an aggravated sigh. "So if Min isn't your real name, what do I call you then?"

"Min's good for now," he shrugged, twirling the knife again expertly in his nimble hands. "And what a shame, I can be good for you, you know?"

I wanted nothing but to slap the smug look on his face to oblivion. "I think I can live without knowing what that's like," I snorted.

His brows knit together. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I guess we'll be here for a while."

When he saw me glaring daggers, no pun intended, at the small pocket knife he held in his hands, he twirled them faster, tempting me to just stand up and kick his balls as hard as humanly possible so I could get it.

But along that was the underlying fear that I truly didn't know what he truly wanted with me. That, alone, makes me even more terrified of being here.

I gulped apprehensively and his face switched to something else when he noticed. "You're not going to use that on me, are you?" I pointed at the blade.

He shook his head. "No. Not now, not ever. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Besides," he continued. "If you come to me by force, then I don't want it."

He smirked at me suggestively, to which I scoffed softly, but loud for him to hear. "I'm too good for you," I rolled my eyes at him.

Well. Not entirely. In any normal circumstances, someone like him wouldn't even be in the same room as me. I couldn't point my finger at it at first, but a man this self-assured and dauntless must be someone of higher authority and money, I was sure of it.

"That, you are, my peach," he agreed. Something surges in his eyes when he noticed the blush that covered my cheeks.

God, his eyes. There was a lifetime of struggle in there that has never been put into words. His face in general, he was out of my league.

He glances at my bound wrists and for a second, I thought he was going to set me loose. My eyes widened when he put the sheath back on the blade and set it aside, instead.

"What?" he taunted. "You don't want to cooperate."

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath in defeat. "I'm at a total loss right now. You want me to exchange you something, correct?"

He nods enthusiastically. "But not the knife?" I quipped.

"I don't want to let you go yet," he shook his head.

"I am aware..."

A small smile forms on his face as his brows shoot up, waiting for me to continue. "But I have nothing more to offer you," I rambled. "I have nothing on me that will interest you."

"And that, my little dove," he hummed. "Is where you're wrong."

Hot, red anger coursed through my veins when he dug into the pockets of his black cardigan and took out my wallet.

"Where did you even get that?" I seethed.

He shrugged. "Take a wild guess."

I wanted to scream in disbelief. He must've gotten his hands on it when he carried me earlier. I had a terrible habit of putting my wallet in the back pocket of any pants I wore.

"Even if I let you go, how would you get home?" he said. "Taking the subway meant you lived a decent distance from here."

He was right. Walking was out of the question because if I did, I would walk three hours. The subway cut the journey into half an hour.

I stared at him, calculating how I would get my wallet out of his claws and taking him down at the same time.

"Don't even think about it," he laughed. "I'm much bigger than you, and you know it."

"What do you want, Min?" I sighed in desperation. "Tell me what is it that you want so you can let me go, what do you want from me?"

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, slowly jutting his arms out to reach towards me and touch my chin lightly. He titled my face gently in his direction, and I was able to meet his eye as well.

"I want you," he spoke softly. "You would think that tying you up would make that very obvious."

I couldn't look away from his burning gaze even if I tried; I could have held it forever. His eyes were dangerously penetrating, he looked pure male at this very moment.

"Tying me up is not the solution, though, you psycho," I frowned at him.

"Humour me this," he uttered, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. "It's almost midnight and when you get to the sub, there's a big, scary man waiting in there, wanting to say hi..."

He paused, waiting for me to internalize the imagery. When it dawned on me, I sighed. "See what I mean, babygirl?" he chuckled.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. "Also your logic is ass."

He smirked, ignoring my statement. "Call you what?"

My scowls deepened when his eyes slowly trailed down from my eyes to my chest. He laughed when I lifted my wrists to attempt to hide them, but there was no point. I growled for him to look away, but of course, he was who he was and he only stared at me, not saying anything back. 

His gaze wasn't uncomfortable, rather, there was a hint of wonder in them and it made my breathing constricted and shallow.

I know that look - it was scheming. The lasciviousness in which he stared at me was shamefully making my core ache, the patch of wetness staining my underwear was proof enough.

He sat straighter and his form, especially his upper torso, became bigger. He inched closer to me. "Kiss me," he whispered breathily.

There was a bomb that went off in my brain. I blinked owlishly at him. "Excuse me?"

He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "You heard me, Y/N. I want you to want me."

He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over when I shivered involuntarily when his deep, sultry voice said my name like he was praying for me to say yes.

His brows raise and his eyes widen a bit when I start to advance, leaning my face very slowly towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and his eyes flutter close as he held his breath.

Instead, I went to his ear as closely as possible and whispered, "Go kiss the wall instead, you sick fuck."

I didn't know what else to say, but more so, I didn't want him to see that he was getting to me little by little. He was manipulative, calculating, and conniving.

"God," he let out a groan that sounded like a tortured animal. He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. "You're such a tease, little tart..."

He banged his head a couple of times on the same wall he stopped me from banging my head down. He rested his head on it for a while.

I couldn't help but stare at his face and how peaceful it looked when his face was relaxed. I couldn't believe this was the cocky and arrogant man that held me hostage.

He suddenly opened his eyes and they were darker than I previously saw, his smirk was dirtier too. "I'll give you your wallet back if you kiss me."

"Are you kidding me? Seriously?" I shrieked exasperatedly. "This is essentially blackmailing!"

"Call it whatever you want," he grinned. "But yes, I do agree."

"Now you're just doing this on purpose! You're going to get what you want anyway, why don't you just do it?"

He paused, his brow raised. "Okay," he shrugged.

Before I can process what was happening, Min lifted me from the ground and placed me on his lap, and now, I was straddling him. His heavy eyes were the last thing I saw before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards his lips.

"Wait--"

I whined on his lips, trying my very best to push his hard chest with my fists, but all that did was instigate him to wrap his arms around me and pull me even closer.

Surprisingly, he wasn't rough with it, but he wasn't gentle either - just desperate. I felt his tongue lick my lips, pushing them apart. He moaned lowly when I wasn't giving in, and his moan got louder when I unconsciously scratched his chest at those unholy sounds.

"Baby, please let me in," he rasped, his lips giving mine little kitten pecks as he spoke through the kiss. "Here, take this."

He momentarily broke the kiss and put my wallet in my pockets for me. I was frozen, I could feel both of our heartbeats going very fast, and I gasped when his hand squeezed my hips firmly.

"I can't do this," I said breathlessly.

He hushed me, leaning in and kissing my jawline slowly. I tensed under his touch, and he stops to hold my face between his hands.

"Relax," his breath was shallow as he looked me in the eye. His intense eyes lingered on my nervous face. "I'll be gentle, okay? Just give in to me, kitten, please."

He was about to lean again, but his black glasses kept hindering the movement. He cursed under his breath as he tried to adjust it.

"Take it off for me," he demanded, his voice taut.

"How?" I gulped, my brain blank with all the overwhelming sensation he was giving me.

"Use your teeth."

Panic started to take over my body. I could feel it trying to push itself out of my stomach, my chest, my throat, my head. I wanted to throw up. I whimpered when his hand went up to my waist and pressed on it, a jolt of pleasure shot down to my clenching wetness.

I swallowed, leaning towards his face, tingles spreading through my scalp as his eyes never left me as I took the black frame in between my teeth and spit it out.

I gasped when I saw his eyes, not because of how heated and impassioned they were, but because of what they literally looked like - dark, seductive, desperate.

I felt my heart constricting tightly. He was painfully beautiful, and looked so dangerous.

"Come here," he growled, crashing his lips against mine once more.

I gasped in pain when he roughly tugged my hair back. I was so taken aback when he forcefully put his tongue in. I refused to let my tongue play with his, mewling and struggling from his hold.

"Oh," I moaned quietly when he bit my lower lip, suckling it gently with a force that knocked the air out of me.

"You're insane, doll, the woman you are," he voice was thick with lust. "You're turning me on even more."

"Stop!" I squealed in abrupt pleasure when his hips bucked up, his hardening erection suddenly pressing on my clothed mound.

An animalistic growl tore out from his chest when he dominantly grabbed my ass and started pushing me in and out, manually grinding me on his hardness fast and hard.

"Oh my fucking God," he grunted, burying his face on the crook of my neck as he pulled me harder. "Oh, God, oh, shit.."

I was moaning along with him, pathetically savouring the feel of my warm heat dry humping his bulging hardness. I was ashamed of myself, for imagining how big he was based on how he felt. 

The only thing to be heard in the empty subway station was our breaths, filthy kissing sounds, and the obscene moans from the both of us. Desire flowed through us, causing our bodies to melt against one another

He pulled away for a moment and I blushed at how red his face was and how bruised his lips already were. "I need to touch you," he croaked. "Can I touch you? I--"

"Hey, did you hear that?"

Cold reality washed over me as if a bucket of freezing ice was poured from my head in one go. I pushed him as hard as I could, as hard as my shame would take me, crawled out of his lap with disgust.

"Wait," he hissed, grabbing me by the arm as he stood up. I whimpered at his demeaning tone, but also how roughly he held my arm. 

"Silence," he growled at me. "There's people in here."

The look on his eyes as he stood up and looked around, surveying the area to find the source of the random voice we just heard from the distance was alarming, and they frightened me.

I was disconcerted, I just made out with this man, and how was now compared to what he looked like underneath me was a contrasting difference. His sharp eyes were terrifying, one look will have you submitting to his control.

I paled. I had almost forgotten was dangerous this man actually was - that I was his prey to consume, and he was determined to play with his food before he devoured it.

He pulled me in front of him, pushing me lightly as he guided me to walk until he reached a dark corner that would hide us from anyone. It's not the best hiding spot, but it was the fastest we could find.

But wait a minute, why were we hiding?

It was as if he knew what I was thinking and he covered my mouth with his hand before I could muster up a scream.

"Do not," he warned. "Nobody goes in this area unless they're looking for something," he paused, tensing up behind me. "Or someone."

My eyes widened when it clicked. He was right, this area was a well known spot for mob deals and other shady businesses. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew, but chose not to comment on. An infamous eight-membered group ruled this area frequently, and while they never deemed terror, their name alone sparked chills on everyone.

Footsteps got closer and closer until there were two people who stood on the spot where me and Min were sitting down. I froze, they were mobsters - the black suits gave it away.

"I could have sworn I heard something in this area," a man with a shorter stature murmured, looking around in the darkness with a stony face.

"'Have' is the keyword," the other taller man with the most intimidating face mocked. "I'm going to kill him when I find him."

"Relax, Seonghwa. Don't get your panties in a twist."

The taller one, Seonghwa, glared hard at his companion. "And I'm going to kill you with him, Hongjoong, if you don't shut your face."

My captor scoffed lightly behind me, his breath fanning my ear. I elbowed him to shut up, and his jerk reaction was to tighten his hold on me. I wanted to scream, I didn't even notice his arms around me.

I felt him lift my hair up and move it to the side to expose my neck. I dug my nails on his arms at the pleasure he gave my sweet spots.

"You smell so good," he whispered sensually, sucking on my neck. I stifled a moan when he bit hard. "I want to hear you so bad," he groaned.

While the two mobsters bickered back and forth, there was me and Min hiding in a dark corner, hoping to not be seen, yet he's making it utterly difficult.

I staggered backwards, my mind swirling with nothing but bliss, my breaths shallow and heavy. His hands slowly trekked upwards..

"Wait no, please, we can't do this here," I pleaded, quickly stopping his hand from fondling my tits.

"We sure can," he pushed my hand away forcefully, but I used my other hand to scratch him. 

His body stiffened. "That wasn't very nice of you," he jeered. I gulped.

My paranoia triggered when his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking the words out of me. Whatever false sense of hope I had that he wouldn't hurt me when out the window.

"You've been testing me, little doll, and quite frankly?" He was indifferent, his voice not betraying his emotions. "I am getting sick and tired of it."

"Please," I whimpered when he squeezed the sides of my neck. "It doesn't feel good..."

He chuckled, something sinister lay brewing underneath. "But it does, don't lie to me."

I clawed his hand repeatedly, but he wasn't budging. "You said you wouldn't force me to do what I didn't want," I cried quietly.

"I know," he agreed. "But your eyes are telling me otherwise."

He pulled on the rope, forcing my wrists down permanently, as he went and did whatever his desires told him to do.

"Are you gonna be good if I let your neck go?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I nodded apprehensively. "That's a good girl."

He unbuttoned my blouse just enough for my bra to get exposed, and I had to suppress a moan when cold air hit my skin, but not for long as Min's hand hastily pushed my bra down to fully expose my average sized tits.

Soft groans escaped him as he roughly fondled them in his hands and I couldn't help my own groans. "Hush," he kissed my neck. "You don't want them to hear you."

He put his fingers at my open mouth and I used them to plug the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill out of me. God, his rough hands felt too good against my skin.

His mouth was on mine again as he held my stiff nipples with his nimble fingers. It sent jolts of desire all over my body.

"Do you feel good?" he murmured in between the kisses. When I ignored him, he bit my lower lip. "Answer me, love."

"Mhhm," I hummed, and he seemed to let that go for now.

I gasped when he squeezed them hard, the overstimulation of him alternating between rough and tender almost made me want to come undone. All I could do was mewl as he toyed with my body.

"I'll go to the other corner, Joong. Keep looking there," I heard Seonghwa mutter before his footsteps receded. I almost forgot they were still here.

"Doesn't the thrill feel good?" Min smirked, attacking my neck again and leaving pretty bruises on them.

"For you," I sighed. "You're the only one enjoying it. Seriously, how can you do this? How can you take advantage of me while we're supposed to be hiding from the mafia?"

"Ever so sarcastic, my pretty princess," he snorted.

While one hand massaged my tits, the other went south - going lower, lower, and lower until I felt him stop at the hem of my pants. My heart rate picked up.

"You're going to enjoy it too," he said softly. "I'm going to touch you, okay? I want to feel you, I need it so bad..."

The desperation in his voice caught me off guard, it shamefully made my pussy clench onto nothing as wetness covered it entirely.

"A-And if I say no?" I stuttered.

"I will push you out and give you to those two turds out there."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't," I gasped. He wouldn't let two mobsters who can kill me take me, right?

"My queen," he whispered, possessively pulling me closer in the tight space we were hiding in. "Remember this, I have never, and never will, given you opportunities where there was no way out of them."

I gulped. He was right, and I hated him for it, but that's what made him manipulative - he would give me these options that he carefully crafted and no matter what I chose, it will always end up with him getting what he wanted one way or another.

These options weren't for me to feel safe; he was merely giving me a chance to do things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, they were still his way.

"You were doomed the moment I laid my eyes on you," he stated darkly. "Oh, my sweet little peach..."

I closed my eyes tightly as he worked his way inside my pants, cupping the throbbing heat of my core. He nudged my legs apart with his foot, but I wasn't giving up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he exhaled a sharp breath. "Relax, love, I'm going to make you feel good, I promise."

"I'm scared," I whimpered with raw honesty. Danger was still looming around us with Hongjoong and Seonghwa lingering around the area.

He didn't reply, instead he brushed his plump lips all over my neck and my now exposed shoulders. I couldn't help the tiny moans coming out of me as he worshiped my body gently. I suppose it worked, it calmed me down.

I heard his sharp intake of breath followed by a throaty moan when I leaned my head back against his shoulder so he could have access to my neck. "Stay like this," he groaned.

"Please," I choked when his fingers pushed my underwear apart and gently rubbed my slit up and down.

He grunted deeply, hungrily. "This is for me, yes?"

I whined at the absence of his touch when he pulled his fingers out and quickly reddened at the sight of his fingers coated with my juices within seconds of touching me.

It was obscene and it shouldn't have been so arousing, the wet sounds coming from my pussy when he parted my lips with his fingers again, but this time, he went straight into my clit, rubbing delicious circles on it.

My moans were borderline pornographic when he finally inserted a finger inside me and stars blinded my vision for a bit when he pinched my nipple at the same time. He slid his fingers in and out with a fastening pace, the wet sounds of it echoing all over the corner we were in.

"Shit, baby, your cunt feels so good, oh God," his deep moans kept hitting my ear and he smirked when I became impossibly wetter. "Say you want more, Y/N."

I whimpered in protest when his fingers stopped all of a sudden. "Fucking say it, then. Say you want more," he demanded with a furious growl.

"I want more!" I cried, tears falling from my eyes. "Please, Min, just please, I-I want more---ah!"

He roughly drove two fingers back in me and I could have exploded when he licked my tears. His long fingers were deep inside me, curling them as he searched for that particular spot. I bit his arm to avoid being too loud when he found it.

This angle had my swollen clit directly on his thumb and he applied pressure just enough until I started tightening on his fingers.

"We're leaving, there's nothing in here."

I'm not sure if that was Hongjoong or Seonghwa at this point, but I didn't care to know, I didn't realize how weird it was that they were announcing it at this time, not when Min had finally let loose when he practically dragged me out of our hiding spot.

He hastily took his cardigan off, set it down on the floor, and pushed me down on it so I could lay down on the floor. I yelped when he roughly shoved my pants down, leaving me completely exposed to him as he loomed on top of me.

And just like that, his fingers were back inside me again, sliding them in and out of me. The way his face looked in this light, I will never forget it. He looked more fucked out than me and he was the one getting me off.

"I-I think I'm, uhm," I moaned when his fingers down there got rougher, faster, harder and he just stared at me with lust-filled eyes as he finger fucked me.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N," he groaned. 

I feel my orgasm approaching me fast and hard like an oncoming train. He finger fucks me even faster than before as he took in my pleasure filled face.

"I'm so c-close," I moaned loudly. "M-Min, oh shit, Min---"

"Mingi," he grunted, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Mingi."

He leans over to kiss me quickly before leaning up again. "I want my name on your lips when you come, okay?"

"Mingi!"

With that, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure plummet my body and I scream his name, his real name. He was moaning with me and I saw him resisting to close his eyes so he can watch me come until I was exhausted and shaking, until he couldn't. 

"Say my name," he growled, leaning down and burying his head on my neck as he slowed his fingers down. "Say my fucking name."

My throat was hoarse by the time I was done wailing his name. I was out of it for a while, Min - Mingi - kept giving me tiny little kisses here and there wherever his lips touched. He shushed me as he let go for a while, pulling out and sucking the fingers he used to make me come.

I watched him put my underwear and pants back on as if he didn't just give me the most mind blowing orgasm. When the ecstasy subsided and died down, I wept. 

"You're okay," he would keep assuring, lifting me from the ground and embracing me in his hard chest. "Shh, don't cry. You did so well for me..."

He buried my face on his shoulders as he embraced me, patting my back soothingly as I let my tears fall from the overwhelming feeling my body felt.

I am so ashamed of myself. This was wrong. I wasn't supposed to want my captor, the one who kept blackmailing me. I felt immense guilt and distraught. The pleasure I felt was so good, but it made me feel so dirty.

"I am no different than a harlot," I sniffled against his skin.

He sighed deeply. "You're not."

We stayed like that for a while - me just letting my feelings pass and him patiently waiting for me to finish. He would whisper comforting words as he gave me pecks here and there, wiping my tears away. It felt so wrong.

"So," I cleared my throat, pulling away from him and sitting beside him instead. "Song Mingi, huh?"

He nodded. "How do I know you're not lying?" I questioned, the doubt clear on my face.

Mingi looked a little offended. "My queen," he spoke. "I may have tweaked our deals a little bit, but I never lied to you once."

I hate how right he was. "Stop calling me that," I murmured. "It feels a little intimate. Why do you keep calling me that?"

Mingi smirked at me, taking my wrists in his hand and working on the knots. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

My eyes widened. "No," I rejected. "No more deals, please."

He laughed that deep and attractive laugh of his, concentrating on untying the rope, tugging on it repeatedly, until it became loose, and he guided my hands until I was completely free. I breathe a sigh of relief, pulling my hands to myself and stretching them over and over to make them mobile again.

"What's the catch?" I frowned. He wouldn't just do this for free.

"God, I love how perceptive you are," Mingi remarked flirtatiously. "But no, nothing. I just want to get you cleaned up."

He juts his finger in a random direction. "I have my car outside, we can clean you up there. I have water too. Then you can go."

I was at a loss for words. "Really?"

"Really," Mingi confirmed.

When I gave him the 'go' signal, Mingi proceeded to carry me in his arms, swooping me in one go, and he carried me like a blushing bride. I wasn't a bride, but I was blushing. I knew he was strong, but this was crazy strong. I wasn't the lightest person out there.

I didn't even protest when he started walking out of there, I was too tired to argue, and I saw his eyes twinkle when I leaned my head on his chest as he walked.

"You were never going to ride the train in the first place, weren't you?" I whispered all of a sudden. He had a car outside of a subway station.

Mingi raised a brow as he looked down on me. "No."

"And those two mobsters, the mafia, they were looking for you."

He was smirking this time. "Yes."

"You were going to escape from them, weren't you?"

"Sure."

"What do you owe them?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, my queen."

"Please?"

Mingi pauses, staring at me. Then he sighs and relents. "Money."

"Is that what was in your backpack?"

"Do you actually want to get fucked? You're still very sentient, babydoll. Maybe my dick will shut you up---"

"You forgot your glasses inside!" I blurted out, my voice raising by one pitch in embarrassment. I felt my face heating up with his straightforwardness.

Mingi gives me a confused, incredulous look before he opens the door to his car and sets me down comfortably on the plush seats. "I never needed them," he cryptically said.

"Nice ride," I murmured, taking in the luxurious interior and the modern technology attached to it.

He hummed in response, handing me a bottle of water to which I drank greedily. It could have been poisoned, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns. He lowered the windows so I could also use the water to rinse my face and hands.

"What now?" I questioned.

Mingi gave me a small smile. "You can do whatever you want, go home if you will."

"You sure?" I blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.

He laughed, realizing it as well. "I'm sure, Y/N."

It felt surreal at the moment. It was as if what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination, and it made me even more anxious. It was a little too easy.

"How am I gonna get home at this time," I sighed to myself rather than question it. It was well after midnight and the buses were all gone at this point and I didn't have enough money to get a cab. 

"You know how to drive?" he lazily asked, looking at the distance out into the empty city.

"Yeah, I do," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.

Mingi nodded, tossing me the keys, and I caught it in surprise. "She's all yours," he said.

My eyes widened. "W-What?"

"The car, Y/N, it's yours now," he chuckled. "Drive home, and take care of her for me, yes? She was my favourite."

"Hold the hell on, Mingi," I blabbered. "Are you high right now? You can't just say things like that!"

"Think of it as a gift," he shrugged. 

I stared at him in confusion when he got out and walked around the car, knocking on the passenger window where I was. I quickly crawled to the driver's seat and pressed the window open.

"H-How about you? How will you go home?" I stammered, genuinely concerned. "I'm just borrowing your car, right?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Don't worry, I have more where that came from."

"You used the money you stole from the mafia?"

His eyes widened a bit before he burst out laughing. "More or less," he snorted. "But seriously, do you not like it?"

I scoffed. "Of course I do, this is a Bugatti, for fuck's sake!" 

"Ah," he dismissed. "It's a Centodieci, it's not that much." 

Damn right, I thought. I suppose I deserve this after all the crap and assault he subjected me to, but still, it felt wrong.

When he saw me biting my lip, hesitating, Mingi chuckled, and he was about to answer, but headlights suddenly blinded both of us. "Well," he spoke, tapping the car twice. "My ride's here."

My heart lurched out of my chest. The way Mingi was looking at me, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe and the best thing he could do was stare at it because he couldn't reach it. Mngi began walking away, straight to the other car, but I stopped him.

"Mingi, hold on," I called out. He paused from his steps, looking back at me expectantly. My words got stuck in my throat, and the only thing I could say was, "I'll see you around."

He chuckled, low and sinister, and I was thrown into a whiplash. "You don't want that, doll, trust me," he shook his head. "Don't tempt me right now."

"W-Why?"

He opened the door of the other car, leaning on it as he stared at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to run," he professed.

Right. I forgot how manipulative he was. "So run, Y/N, run far, far away," he continued, a daunting smirk on his face, "Because you're mine if we meet again."

And with that, he got in the car and it drove away, leaving me to stare at it as it disappeared from my view.

What did that even mean?

I drove away, apprehensively I might add, to get home. It was a breeze, I hate that I am now very in love with it. I got extremely dizzy when I realized it was voice powered too. Out of curiosity, I asked how much this car cost.

Bugatti Centodieci, top of the line, costs $8.8 million dollars as of 2024...

I almost swerved off the lane when I heard it. Was Mingi crazy? I scoffed, laughing maniacally. 

Who was he? This can't be right. My insides quivered, no way it was this easy, surely there was a catch in between? He was cunning, what if him giving me the car was a part of his stupid games? I wouldn't put it past him.

And so, I drove home with an underlying guilt and heartbreak.

Mingi filled my thoughts all day and all night for the past month.

He was like a barnacle that didn't want to unstick from me and truth be told, it was getting extremely tiring. No matter what I did, I always saw him. I haven't been on any subway or train stations at all.

The worst part was that I didn't exactly know what this feeling was. At first, I thought it was fear - I was scared that he would come knocking on my door one day and claim me against my will, but no, nothing had happened.

I had so many questions left unanswered, questions that were giving me nothing but grievances, and in hindsight, a part of me wanted to see him again.

"Are you going to go have drinks with everyone tonight, Y/N?"

I paused from walking to turn around and found my co-worker, Wooyoung, at the restaurant where we both worked.

"I'm not too sure, Woo, I'm not really feeling well as of lately," I told him truthfully. This is Mingi's fault.

Wooyoung gives me a worried glance. "Everything okay, Y/N? Are you feeling sick?" he asked with a frown. 

I gave him a halfhearted grin. He was always very sweet and I loved that about him. "Don't worry Woo, I'm just going to go home and rest," I twirled my car keys between my fingers and Wooyoung eyes it.

His eyes comically widen. "Wow, Y/N, you drive a car like that?" he says excitedly. "You always rode the bus though..."

I raised a brow. Has he always been this observant? Before I can question it, he snaps his fingers happily. "Can I see it? My brothers don't want me to drive," he pouted.

"Sure," I laughed and I guided him in the parking lot. "I overheard you talking to the others and mentioning that you had seven brothers?"

Wooyoung laughed. "Ah, that. We're not blood related, but we've been together all our lives. Blood isn't always thicker than water..."

We continued talking until I pointed the car to him. I started to go towards it, but I halted when I heard Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were wide as he stared at the black Bugatti, and I was amused.

"Where did you get this?" he inquired, his tone firm, his eyes piercing.

I was taken aback with Wooyoung's shift of attitude. He walked confidently towards the car, lightly trailing his fingers on the hood. Long gone was the cheery boy I knew him for. 

"It's you," I heard him whisper.

My heart palpitated faster and faster when he walked towards me. "Stay here," was all he said when he walked away and called somebody.

I was so damn confused, what the hell was going on? Did Wooyoung know me outside of work? Oh God, I hope he didn't think I stole the car! I mean I get it, I earn shit in the restaurant as a server so I'd understand why he would think that.

Against my better judgment, I ran away from the parking lot into nowhere in particular. There was something dark looming over him in that odd conversation and I didn't want to be part of whatever that was.

As I was running hastily, I dropped the car keys. Cursing under my breath, I went back and tried to find where it dropped. I frowned when I realized where I was - in an isolated dark alley.

"Aha!" I exclaimed when I saw the keys and bent down to pick it up, but a foot stepped on it before I did.

I looked up to see three hooligans - tattoos, dank breath, yellowed eyes, you name it - grinning maliciously at me. I paled and it rendered me paralyzed.

"Well boys, looks like we got a jackpot right over here," the biggest man with the ugliest looking face grinned disgustingly. "You're the owner of that black baby in that parking lot!"

They all laughed rambunctiously to themselves. I was frightened, but I wanted to kick myself. Of course, the expensive car would've caught someone's eye sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be like this.

"P-Please," I whimpered, tears springing up my eyes. "I-I'll give it to you, you can have it, just don't hurt me..."

I gasped sharply when a skinny looking man grabbed me by my face and ogled. "You're hot," he leered. I almost threw up but I held it in. "Wanna play with us, doll? We'll give you a good time!

Tears started falling from my eyes. Mingi called me his doll, and it sounded heavenly from his lips. When they said it, I felt extremely insulted and violated.

"No, no, please!" I screamed when one of them held my arms and restrained me. "Stop!"

"Hold still!"

"No!" I bellowed. "I didn't get to where I am just to be manhandled by fuc---"

I choked, a stinging sensation on my right crippling me, the backhanded slap on my face was stronger than I thought and I hit the pavement below me. Was this the end? I groaned painfully when I felt myself being dragged on the ground. 

My tears were free falling as I felt hands grope me in places I didn't want them to, but I couldn't do anything, black spots danced on my vision, but I still yelled, hoping someone would hear me. 

"Stop it, please, take the car!" I shrieked, thrashing around, but that earned me another slap on the face.

"Damn, bitch, don't you ever shut up?" They laughed disgustingly. I cried out when I felt hands trying to lift my shirt up. "We're going to have so much fun---"

"What's going on here?"

The three hobos paused from their tracks, and froze when they saw the owner of the voice. I was in a haze, I probably had a concussion at this point. I could only hope that the new voice was here to help me...

I lay helplessly on the dirty ground and even though that felt terrible, at least I didn't feel their hands on me anymore, but I could still hear their conversation very well.

"B-Boss, greetings to you and your brothers," I heard them say as they bowed 90 degrees from where they stood.

In the distance, I saw three men standing straight, arms crossed in their chests except the one at the very front. I shrinked onto myself. They were the mafia.

They were Ateez, the 'A' symbol they wear on their suits was a dead giveaway. I panicked when I put two and two together. Were they going to hurt me too?

"Why are you imbeciles disturbing the peace?" a built man with the fiercest eyes I have ever seen sighed. He had this interesting reddish, pinkish hair.

"Wait," the other man with the deeper voice said. This one was handsome, his greenish, blackish hair suited him well. "You fuckers can't get it up so you terrorize a woman?"

"B-But, we know her," the three hoodlums lied. "We swear!"

A sudden panic attack tightens my chest and my breathing turns shallow. I'm so scared, and I am in pain right now. I groaned  and everybody turned to look at me, but my haze couldn't make out faces clearly, especially their expressions.

Green haired man smirked. "Yeah?" he pointed at me. "Doesn't seem like it."

"I should kill you sons of bitches here," the pink haired one snarled, grabbing the gun he had and pointing it straight.

"Please, brother, spare us!" they shouted over and over again. I panicked, whimpering my ears to soothe the oncoming migraine I felt. I panicked even more when I realized I had blood, probably from my fall.

"Shut the fuck up---"

"San."

My eyes fluttered open as the world around slowly started to fade. That voice...

"Put the gun down," the third and last person spoke - the presumed boss. His voice was deep, calming, yet it induced fear in me.

"Why?" pink hair, San, growled.

"I won't tell you twice."

I tried, I really did, my best to glance at the tall man with the most lulling voice, at least to my ears. He was familiar, I just know that he was, it was breaking my heart trying to remember somebody who I couldn't at the moment. 

I knew one thing - he was painfully beautiful, and the way he looked at me, it was like I was the brightest star in the universe, only this time, he can reach me and not just stare at me from afar.

He stepped forward, his strides powerful and domineering, and his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about him that felt different; he was dominant, compelling, and more dangerous than the other two.

"Step aside, maggots," he stated calmly, but so commanding.

"Boss, n-no offense," one brute interrupted, the one that slapped me to the pavement. "W-We really like t-this one, if you may--"

"Move."

"B-But---"

I saw the head mobster glance to his right. "Yeosang." 

Green hair, Yeosang, nodded once and proceeded to roughly shove the thugs, apparently also mafia henchmen, to the side, giving them little punches and kicks here and there. 

My head lolls and the muscles on my neck barely keep up with me. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. A shadow covers my view. He was so intimidating. He reaches his hand out, and I cower in response.

"No," I groggily shoved the head mafia's hand away from me. "Don't hurt me..."

He sighed, crouching down and sitting me down despite my protests. "Little dove, you know I would never," he whispered.

My heart started beating out of control as I stared at him closer. He was wearing this bluish suit along with a white dress shirt. Through my blurry vision, I can tell that he was the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. I don't think anyone would come close...

I frowned. That train of thought. This wasn't the first time...

"Boss, my liege," I heard the ruffians speak. "Why are you forsaking us, your brothers, for some whore?"

I whimpered when I saw him take his sunglasses of, his eyes twitching, a glare of emotional coldness and complete disregard of anyone. It was terrifying.

"You dare call your queen a whore?"

That voice, that deep timbre, it brought a sense of relief to me. "Mingi?" I inhaled, shaking when it hit me.

His facade drops a bit, his eyes shining in relief, before it turns stone hard again. 

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and the world never stopped for somebody like me. I was too far gone to acknowledge the sharp gasps.

I felt myself being carried and I automatically leaned into his hard chest. I was supposed to be terrified, frightened, but I was not. Everything seemed right at the moment and even if my head didn't know, my heart did.

I've felt this way before. I've been carried like this before. I've been in his safe embrace, wrapped in his heady scent.

I felt him plant a small kiss on my forehead as he carried me out of the alleyway. "You're safe now," Mingi whispered. "Let's go home, okay?" 

I resisted, not wanting to go out just yet, but the tiredness and dizziness was catching up to me. As Mingi was about to completely walk out and go inside a car when we were stopped.

"Min, what do you want to do with them?" San asked. He then turned to me and bowed a bit. "Greetings, our queen."

I frowned, but that quickly turned into aghast when I watched Mingi hand Yeosang a handgun. "Beat the fuck out of them, Sannie, yeah?" he smirked sadistically.

He turned to Yeosang next with a smirk. "Then use that," he beamed darkly. "And use it well. Do not let me down, Yeo."

San and Yeosang look at each other, their eyes glazed with ruthless vigor. "With pleasure," Yeosang smirked. 

I kept going in and out of consciousness every twenty minutes or so. I was in the backseat of a car. 

And Mingi wasn't helping either. When I would try to shrug him off to just lay on my side to relax, he would possessively grab onto my waist and pull me to him.

"Stop it," I whined. "Thank you for saving me, but that doesn't give you the pass to touch me."

He hummed, not even bothering to respond. I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit today, so I shrug him off harder.

"Enough," he warned, a slight edge to his voice. "A month ago, you couldn't do it even if you tried." I hissed when he grasped my waist tighter. "It's like you never learned your lesson."

I blushed at the memory despite the haze. "Where are you taking me?" I cleared my throat pathetically. "My apartment is close to here."

Mingi stared at me before chuckling slowly. "Oh, you sweet, summer child..."

I shivered both in anticipation and fright. I can't be sarcastic with him like I did the last time I was with him. Song Mingi wasn't a regular person, I know that now. I have a sneaking suspicion who he was exactly, but the matter at hand wasn't that.

"Mingi, please, not now," I pleaded when he leaned towards me, stopping only a few inches from mine.

"You have forgotten what I told you before we parted ways," he murmured with a small smirk on his lips. "Surely, you didn't forget me that quick?"

"How could I forget you?" I glared. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met." 

He smirked. "How could you forget?" I held my breath when he whispered softly. "When your cunt took my fingers so well?"

I inhaled a sharp breath when he gave my lips a small peck. "You're mine now," he whispered. "Don't you ever forget that."

I was about to retort something stupid, but I couldn't when I groaned in pain, clutching my head when a sudden headache stopped me.

"You're bleeding, my sweet pea," Mingi frowned, his fingers lightly touching the dried, caked blood on my forehead. He tutted. "That fuckface. Come here."

My cheeks reddened when Mingi lifted me and placed me on his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him for support. "Jongho," he called, his deep, commanding voice booming all over the car with authority.

"Here," I heard a voice towards the front. I groaned when we hit a road bump.

"Careful, Jjong. Easy on the road," I heard Mingi sigh while he was rubbing my back in a slow manner. It was honestly soothing.

"Sorry," the driver, at least I assume him to be, apologized. "I've been driving for a while now, where to?"

There was a slight pause. "Doll?" Mingi whispered directly in my ear. "You're going to have to stay awake for us, okay?"

I buried my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. "My head hurts," I whimpered. "They hurt me really bad..."

"Shh, I know, I know. Can you sleep?" he tenderly asked, his arms wrapping around me tighter. I nodded in response.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Yunho's, then. Think you can reach there in thirty, Jjong?"

"Of course," Jongho snorted. "But only if I get to stay and not clean up after Yeo and Sannie. They're brutes."

"Look at you telling me what to do," Mingi raised a brow when Jongho gave him a sheepish smile. "Fine. Wooyoung will do it."

""But I'm worried about her," Jongho glanced at me through the rear mirror. "She might get nauseous."

"I'm fine," I snapped, burying my head deeper into Mingi's neck. "Just fucking drive before my head splits in two. I'll apologize to you later."

I felt bad for cursing at him, given that this was the first time I've ever seen him. My first impression was the least of my concerns.

Both of them laughed for a couple of seconds. "I see you picked the right one," I heard Jongho chuckling at Mingi, his eyes glinting in amusement, but there was that same darkness that he held. "Hang tight, our queen."

Everything was such a blur afterwards, all I knew was that I wanted to rest and forget about everything. The moment my head hit the pillow, it was game over.

When I woke up, I found myself with the most agonizing headache. I clutched onto my head, it certainly felt like my skull was trying to get out of my head.

It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in my own room, rather, I was in the most luxurious room with the plushest king-sized bed, wrapped in the most velvety blanket and surrounded by the softest pillows.

Everything hit me at once - my overnight shift, almost being forced against my will, to being in Mingi's car. I was mad at myself for being so damn weak that I can't even fight back when the need arose. If Mingi and his group didn't come in time, I just know I'd be dead by now.

Or worse, sold off. That was absolutely worse than being dead.

"You're awake."

I looked around to find the source of the voice and there he was. At the foot of the bed, a tall man stood. He was taller than Mingi, and Mingi was damn tall, himself.

"Who are you?" I asked with a frown.

"The owner of this house," he beamed. "My name is Yunho, our queen. Jeong Yunho."

He rolled a cart with antiseptics and more medical stuff out to the side. "You're a doctor," I declared, touching my forehead to find it all cleaned and healed up.

He nodded. "Luckily you didn't need any stitches, just a couple of bandages. Mingi can help you replace them later."

My heart skipped a beat at the name. "Speaking of," I cleared my throat. "Where is he?"

He smiled widely at me. He seemed nice, definitely reminding me of a puppy. "Doing some...stuff."

"I know what he does," I said. "Of what you guys do, more or less."

"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "Mingi is not a subtle person."

He crossed his arms as he walked closer to my side of the bed. "You're very interesting," he remarked with a smile. "I can see why he's drawn to you."

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"Well, for one, you didn't freak out when you saw me. The usual response to a random stranger in your bedroom is not nonchalance."

I squinted my eyes at him. I shouldn't conclude my thoughts about these people from looks alone; no one is who they seem to be here.

"You're observant," I commented.

"Yes. He can observe his way out of this room, as well."

Yunho laughed and I scoffed loudly when we both turned around and saw Mingi leaning on the door with his arms crossed.

"No thank you, Mangi?" Yunho approached Mingi with his arms wide open.

"Get out," Mingi ordered.

"Oh, come on now, I just wanted to check up on our queen," Yunho teased.

"Get out," Mingi repeated, raising his voice a little.

"But I want to know how you guys met--"

"Get," Mngi gritted his teeth. "Out."

"Okay, okay, goddamn," Yunho raised his hands out in response and beelined the hell out of the room, but not before waving at me jokingly and laughing on the way out.

The atmosphere was so awkward, it filled the massive room with uncertainty. I couldn't even look Mingi in the eye, for fear of him doing something to me. I was at the mercy of his presence, and in his property. He can do whatever he wants and none would be the wiser.

"I must say, Y/N," he began to speak, making me jump a bit in surprise.  "Had I known that the next time I'd you see was being cornered by dead motherfuckers, I would have never let you go that night."

"Dead?" I squeaked.

Mingi smirked, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "They will be soon."

He was at the very end of the room, but he was so unnerving. But by God, Mingi was the devil wrapped in an angel's grace. I didn't even recognize him at first.

He was wearing this tight, long-sleeved muscle fit shirt that emphasized just how bigger Mingi actually was. He had no glasses on, allowing me to see through his sharp and calculating eyes, and his dark hair was completely down, his bangs covered his entire forehead. 

It was such a contrast to the very first time I saw him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure which one was worse - him wearing a casual outfit with the same dangerous, murderous aura was deceiving.

"You," I gulped. "You are the devil."

He titled his head in a menacing angle. "How so?"

"You know exactly what I mean, you took me here without even asking for my consent, Mingi!"

He stayed silent, staring at me with the same indifference he always had. It irritated me, more so now I knew who he really was.

"You lead the mob, you own the people," I whispered, hugging a pillow for comfort. "God, it all makes sense. The conniving, manipulative, boorish attitude, the fear you instill on everyone who knew you, and how you found me point blank."

"I didn't," Mingi denied. "Wooyoung found you. He called me. He is a brother of mine."

"You lied to me," I growled. "You lied about everything, you bastard-- don't come any closer."

Mingi began walking towards me, but paused in the middle of the room when I told him to stop. "I asked if you were in the mob," I continued. "You said no. But not only that, hid the fact that you had power. All you ever did was lie."

Mingi narrowed his eyes on me, rage slowly building into them, then it was gone. His self-control had always been worth of applause. "I never lied to you," he said in annoyance. "Everything I told you has been the damn truth from the start, Y/N."

"I own the gang, Y/N. I am the mafia, so no, I am not the mob," Mingi hissed. "I gave you every opportunity to wiggle your way out, I never gave you opportunities--"

"Opportunities that you tailored to suit whatever you wanted?!" I interjected, my voice raising significantly. "As if I had any choice? You assaulted me, Mingi, you took advantage of any weakness I had and exploited it for your gain!"

He smirked, his true colours overtaking the gentleness he put on. "But I do, I do care for you," he remarked. "Your perceptiveness kills me, though. It's not my fault we crossed paths again."

"You were going to give me to the enemy when we were hiding at the station," I accused harshly. "Crossing paths wasn't the issue, you had no problem selling me out!"

"I wasn't going to," Mingi shook his head.

"You wanted to touch me, you were going to push me off to them--"

"Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you mean?" 

Mingi sighed, rubbing his temples with both of his hands. "Okay, fine, I might have lied to you with that one," he shrugged. "Joong is my best hunter, and Hwa is my right hand man."

Dread filled my body. Every opportunity that he gave me, even if he had pushed me to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I would have never been in trouble. I would have ended up with Mingi, regardless.

"You snake," I seethed. "You manipulated me!"

"Remember," Mingi grinned sadistically. "I gave you the option to get away. Hongjoong would have let you go, he's always been soft, you see," he scoffed. "You chose to stay with me."

With that, tears fell from my eyes. Mingi's eyes softened at the sobs that wracked my body. He never lied, everything matched up, but his manipulations knew no bounds. Had I not been blinded by the temporary lust that made my body shake, I would have read between the lines.

"Seonghwa said he was going to kill you, how could I have known?" I hiccuped in between the sobs and tears.

I saw him reach out his hand to me, wanting to touch me, but hesitated when he saw how pitiful I looked. "Please don't cry, little dove," he whispered. "Will you calm down if I explain everything from the start?"

I looked up at him with my tear-stained eyes, nodding apprehensively. "Listen to me, my Y/N," he began. "I never lied to you, and I'm not lying when I say it hurts me to see you cry.

He walked towards the end of the bed and sat on it, far from me. "I was there for a deal with another mob, they screwed me over, so I stole their cash," he explained like it was no big deal. "The rope and the knife was theirs. It was for me."

I winced, the memory of Mingi tying me up making me cringe. "I'll spare you the details. I had to secure the place, why do you think the whole station was empty?"

I stared at him, and he stared back. That look again, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe, but this time, I was slipping further and further away from him.

"I am a very thorough person, my pretty girl," he smiled at my blush.  "I could have sworn I blocked off every single entrance in there. So tell me, how the hell did you get in?"

My blush deepens, and I lower my head in embarrassment. "I-I saw there was a barricade," I stammered. "I, uhm, jumped over it. I was too tired to go the long way."

Mingi laughed, his deep voice reaching me in places I didn't know existed. "I see," he smirked.

How could I be so stupid? The deserted area should have been a massive sign that something was very wrong.

"The train that came after a little," he continued. "That was my getaway ride. Those two were probably pissed when I wasn't on it, especially Seonghwa."

I was mortified all of a sudden. I groaned and Mingi turned to look at me in amusement. Hongjoong and Seonghwa probably heard us going at it and doing vulgar things in a place where we weren't supposed  to be doing it.

"I didn't lie when I said I owed them money," he said, his tone soft and gentle. It was like we were in that train station all over again. It was moments like these when my heart would question itself and its validity.

"Yeah, you just conveniently forgot to mention that it was technically your money too," I mumbled in resentment.

"I got a little carried away with you and forgot to give it to them," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how, you drive me crazy."

"That doesn't give you the excuse to shackle me with you and manipulate me to do your bidding," I glared fiercely at him, my voice breaking with every emotion I had.

"I know, my love, I know," he sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and turning his whole body to face me. 

I wasn't going to tell him that I never stopped thinking about him even after he left, and I wasn't going to tell him that he had won - even if I didn't want to, I felt something for him. But I was mad, and he doesn't deserve me.

There wasn't a day where I never blamed myself for feeling the way I did. I really was no different than a whore.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after that night," he admitted.

I was puzzled and confused. "What do you mean?" I frowned. "I was in fear of you, Mingi. Everyday I was paranoid that you changed your mind and would come knocking at my door to take me."

He chuckled lightly. "No, dollface. I didn't even know where you lived."

I stared at him apprehensively. "There was no tracking in the car?" The doubt was clear on my face. "Don't you mafia people do that? GPs everything that moved?"

"You would be correct, but no," he shook his head. "Not that one. That was my personal car. Not the mob boss' car, just regular Song Mingi. It's not connected to the business."

"You're lying," I objected, my chest tightening with how my heart beated.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Mingi sighed. "Call me whatever you want, a bastard, a son of a bitch, the devil incarnate. I may con my way and twist the truth, but Y/N, you should know by now that I am not a liar."

I swallowed the lump that blocked my throat from breathing in and out. "Not to you," Mingi confessed. "I care very deeply about you."

I couldn't help the shock that resonated onto my face and expression. "You really intended to give me that car?" I croaked. 

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, love. Yes, I did."

Something in my chest exploded, all the emotions and how I felt threatening to bubble up within me. "I hate you," I whispered.

Mingi heard it though. "What?" he frowned.

I was very angry at this point. "Is this part of your games again, Song Mingi?" I spat, tossing the blankets away from my body.

"My love, please calm down," he pleaded.

"No!" I screeched, standing up and inching away from him and the bed. "I don't need your stupid car after you took advantage of me, you slimy little snake."

I began pulling my hair out in frustration. "You could have let me go," I cried out. "But instead, you didn't and you toyed with me and my body!"

"Y/N, stop it," he warned, standing up, himself, and trying to reach for me, but all it did was make me back away more.

"You think the car would absolve everything?" I seethed, making my way to the door, intending to leave. "You could have approached me like a normal person, I might have given you a chance to woo me--" 

I grabbed my arms and spun me around swiftly. "Mingi, let go--"

"You don't understand," Mingi hissed, his eyes had the mafia leader's anger in them, scaring me a little. "You don't get it all, Y/N."

"Mingi, please--"

"I had  every intention of letting you go that night," he snarled. "When I said I never thought I'd see you again, I meant it. I was really letting you go." 

"You asshole, I hate you!" I screamed in defiance.

Mingi scoffed. "Really?" he squinted his eyes at me and pulled me into him, embracing me. It effectively halted me, I wasn't expecting it.

"That car was yours," he whispered. "If you really detested me, you could have sold it and gotten rid of every trace of me."

"And have you kill me for doing so? I think not."

"I wouldn't have known. If it had GPS, I would have tracked it somewhere else."

I cursed under my breath. There was no fooling him. "I wish you sold it," he said. "You could have lived comfortably and I would have rested easy knowing you had enough money so you wouldn't work at night anymore."

I shivered when he tucked my hair behind my ears. "What if someone else got you first? What if they had worse intentions?"

"I want you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wanted you for myself, to take you and do whatever I damn well pleased."

He tilted my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to fuck you that night. Hard. Fast. Rough."

That caught me off guard. My face heated up in response.

"But I couldn't," he sighed before I could fully internalize what he said. "I didn't want this life for you. There was too much danger around me..."

He touched my forehead before leaning in and giving the bandaged wound a peck. "I should have come sooner before they did this to you."

I realized that passion was often mistaken for aggression. Mingi had too much of both. "You didn't send Wooyoung to spy on me?" I asked.

Mingi shook his head. "Wooyoung working with you was a sheer coincidence."

"It's not too late, you can still let me go," I tried to convince him. "You can let me go, once and for all."

He shook his head, his hold on me tightening. "No," he flatly said. Desperation swam in his eyes. "I let you go once, and that month was my worst. You're mine now, you hear me?"

The way he looked at me, I was the brightest star in his universe, and he finally had caught up to me. Then Mingi let me go, his eyes darkening into something foreboding; something more sinister.

"Strip."

It took a moment for me to understand what he said, and when I did, my eyes widened. "W-What?"

His eyes never left mine. "You heard me," he said. "Take your clothes off."

I took a step back from him and Mingi's jaw hardened when he saw me. "What are you doing?" he clenched his teeth, his voice taut.

"Mingi, please," I pleaded.

"Please what?" he growled. "Take your fucking clothes off, Y/N. I'm going to fuck you."

My chest fell up and down with how rough my breathing became. Mingi's scowl deepened when he saw me not moving an inch. He proceeded to take his shirt off and throw it randomly somewhere.

I gulped, taking in his physique. I knew he was toned, but seeing him up close made my brain go haywire with want. My brows shot up as I stared at the tattoo I didn't know he had on his left chest. It was an 'A' in a circle - an anarchy symbol, or rather, the Ateez emblem.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I whimpered.

His eyes narrowed in irritation. "No. Come here," he ordered. He had a demanding presence. The suffocating domination he had on me was daunting, but I wasn't going to give in to him.

I stood frozen in my spot for a few more seconds before I backed up again. Mingi slowly crept up to me, he looked like a predator more than ever.  I backed up even faster until my back hit the wall. Panic surged through me when Mingi reached me.

He put his arms on either side of the wall, trapping me in. "Where are you going to go?" he sneered.

Before I could respond, Mingi ripped my nightgown off swiftly in the middle and lifted me easily in his arms, tossing me effortlessly on the bed. I screamed for dear life as he hovered over me.

"Song Mingi! What the fuck are you doing to her?!” I heard someone scream from outside the room.

"Fuck off!" Mingi roared angrily.

I trembled beneath him. He looked so much bigger than me when he was on top of me like this. I covered my bare breasts with my arms, but Mingi wasn't having it.

His eyes roamed hungrily over me. "No, babydoll," he smirked, grabbing my hands roughly and pinning them down on the bed. "You do not cover your tits around me, got it?"

I nodded as he devoured me with his eyes. I gasped when he leaned down and began sucking them. The stimulation was overwhelming - he would alternate between sucking and nipping my nipples gently.

"Mingi, please wait," I whimpered pathetically when he let go of one of my hands to fondle my tits.

I shook my head frantically and a choked cry was torn from my when  his other hand wrapped around my neck. He lifted his head up to glare at me.

"Stay still," he barked.

I felt his tongue lick my lips, trying to push them apart. I whined in reluctance, trying to turn my head away, but Mingi quickly let my neck go to the back of my head and tugged my hair roughly on his hands. I cried out and struggled when he bit my bottom lip.

I inhaled a deep breath sharply when he pulled away to stare at me as I shuddered. I tensed when he started leaning down again slowly. He let go of my hair to press a thumb on my jaw, smirking darkly as he forced my mouth open.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Naked, shaking like a leaf, and all mine."

He ravaged my mouth once more, tugging on my hair a little bit. When I refused to cooperate, he murmured another warning against my mouth, this time with more threat. His tongue played with mine, and he groaned against me, and plunged his tongue deeper.

I felt my body trembling more, the wetness down there was becoming impossible to ignore at his touch, and I was aching for relief at this point.

Tears fell from my eyes at the roughness and tenderness he was making me feel, and I felt nothing but confusion. He wiped my tears away with his fingers.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"C-Can we do this next time?" I begged.

His penetrating glare left me fumbling for words, and yet submissive to his touch, unsure if I should hate him for doing this, or liking it because it was him. 

I knew one thing, I felt undeniably safe with him.

"Darling, please, I'm not going to hurt you," Mingi pleaded when I began thrashing around, trying to get away from his criminal hold, by pushing his body towards me. "You want this just much as I do--"

"Fuck you," I spat on his face. Shock filled his face as he wiped the spit absentmindedly.

His eyes widened before mania and fury fueled his features. "Don't worry, I plan to."

I was expecting something rough and unrestrained, but no, Mingi kissed me softly, lovingly, and I couldn't help but kiss him back with equal emotions. His hands went everywhere - my hair, neck, stomach - until it reached its goal down there.

Panic surged through me and I tried to struggle, but he held my legs down with his and trapped me with his chest.

"Mingi," I wailed.

"Shut up," he hissed, ignoring my pleas.

Something about the way he said it made me extremely wet. It was such a dark arousal, too. Mingi groaned loudly, his fingers felt my damp pussy, rubbing and pressing on it. I bit my lips to stop the moans that were wanting to spill out of me.

"Baby," Mingi rumbled, pulling my bottom lip out of my mouth. "Do not, and I mean, do not hold back on me, yeah? I want to hear your pretty sounds..."

It's not like he gave me a choice, I let out a breathy moan when he slipped a finger in, pushing in deeper until he was knuckles deep. I unconsciously squeezed around his finger and that made him even crazier.

"Oh sweetheart," he choked out. "You are incredibly tight, my angel."

He started stroking in and out, sliding with ease and finger fucked me faster and rougher than he did when he were at the train station.  I moaned when he curled his fingers up and started rubbing that sweet spot.

"M-Mingi," I moaned erotically. "P-Please, slow down for m-me."

He kissed my neck, his lips nipping at the soft flesh there. "How?" he groaned against my skin. "Do you not hear that?"

The loud, squelching sound from my wet pussy as he drilled his finger relentlessly in me was driving me crazy. I gasped when his pace got faster, his palms were hitting my clit aggressively and I felt my orgasm slowly approaching me.

"No," Mingi growled. I whined in protest when he pulled out. He grabbed my jaws roughly. "You won't come, not until I say so," he snarled.

He stood and quickly got rid of his pants, his hands shaking with anticipation as removed the last piece of clothing he had - his boxers.

I stopped and watched him stroking his already hard cock, and he looked directly at me, his eyes hazed with lust and madness, his strokes going slower when I swallowed. He wasn't the biggest I've been with, but he was the thickest. 

The length of it was veiny, the head of it red with the need to be inside me. I gulped when I realized that he was going to be inside me.

"Look how hard you make me, precious," his eyes were lethal and ferocious. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore."

Before I could say anything, a startled cry left my lips when he mounted me, roughly pushing my thighs apart to let himself in for the invasion he was going to do.

"Mingi--oh!" I whined when he shoved his fingers back in my pussy and stroked in and out like the madman he was. I struggled repeatedly, thrashing my legs and kicking him as hard as I possibly could.

"Resistance is useless, stop it!" Mingi shouted, making me stop in my acts and stare at him dumbfounded.

He tiredly buried his head on the crook of my neck. "I will give you anything and everything you want and more," he whispered in distress and desperation. "Just please give in to me, baby, please ."

The way he was begging broke something in me. "It doesn't work like that," I sighed.

"Then don't hate me," was all he said before he pushed into me in one thrust of his hips, almost tearing me into two.

I choked out a loud moan as my nails dug into his back. "M-Mingi," I gasped in broken moans.

He stayed still inside me for what seemed like a lifetime, shushing me and whispering the gentlest of words into my ears as he gave me little kisses here and there.

I knew he was corrupting me, but the feel of him inside me sent stars in my vision. It was the corruption, the alternation, between him being rough and then into being the most affectionate man.

Mingi withdrew all of a sudden, then thrust deeply, both of us letting out pleasure filled moans that echoed all over the room.

"I'm going to have you now, okay?" he said.

Without waiting for my reply, he thrust into me hard, over and over and over again. I felt my body being filled delightfully, the sensation of Mingi's cock seemingly swallowing all the words I intended to hurl at him.

His thrusts quickened, each thrust making me cry out loud and moaning louder and louder, not caring if anybody heard me from outside.

"Oh, fuck, my love," Mingi groaned, looking me directly in the eyes as he hovered over me. "You feel so fucking good."

He leaned down to kiss me roughly. "You're all mine, okay? You're fucking mine."

It was the moment when I knew that I couldn't hold back anymore. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, maybe I was his, after all. It was fucked up, but goddamn it, I wanted him.

"I'm all yours," I cried out. "Please, please fuck me--ngh!" 

He groaned at my sudden surrender to him, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit as he fast as he was fucking into me. He locked his lips into mine in a demanding kiss.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," his deep voice bought out a different type of pleasure in me. "Wrap your legs around me, my love."

I obeyed him without questions, moaning his name out loud when he reached even deeper than before. He buried his face in my neck as he fucked faster, harder, and deeper.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"You want me to go harder, baby?"

"Yes! "Well, you better start begging."

“Please, Mingi, please…”

His cock filled my pussy harder until I felt the tip touch the end of my walls. In a moment of complete bliss, I grabbed his face and locked eyes with him. The surprise in his eyes made him buck his hips roughly. "Is my angel a slut, after all?" he smirked.

My body shuddered against him, and I felt a pleasure that intensified with the degrading name - slut.

"I love you," he whispered abruptly. 

The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten and explode. "Since when?" I croaked out.

"I don't know," he smiled through the pleasure he felt. "I just do."

It was a feeling I knew all too well, as I felt the same.

A surge of bravery passed through me, maybe it was all from the payback and I want to get even. "Prove it," I smirked.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," he growled.

I screamed his name over and over again as he fucked his desires into me, until a strangled groan from him made his thrusts more desperate and sloppier. 

His moans were getting higher and higher in pitch until he was nothing more than a whining, moaning mess. It turned me on to the highest degree.

"Come with me, love, please," he begged. "I need it..."

It was all I needed to hear, and there was no turning back. He broke an orgasm out of me, stripping me of any plans to defy him ever again.

His groans of pleasure matched his slowing thrusts and with a final plunge forward, hot cum filled began filling me. The little kisses he planted all over my face while whispering the dirtiest things with the most affectionate tone gave me the shivers.

He laid on top of me tiredly, and I was expecting him to stay like that because we were both tired and spent, but no. "Mingi?" I asked in confusion. 

I was confused, I whined when he pulled out, going down on me to stare at my swollen pussy. It was so embarrassing, him being so close and personal down there.

"W-What are you doing?" I moaned again when I felt his fingers push back his cum back inside me.

"Can't let all of this go to waste, yes?" he smirked before diving in.

I almost had another orgasm at the sight. I felt Mingi eat me out hurriedly, holding my legs so I don't shut them close. The slurping sounds were so obscene.

Suddenly, he stopped and got back on top of me with the cockiest smirk on his face. He leaned down, forcefully opened my mouth, then opened his.

"Mmph!" I groaned lewdly, wide-eyed, but suddenly wet all over again.

I felt something wet, sticky, go in my mouth when Mingi kissed me - cum. He had just sucked his own cum from my pussy, and spit it out in my mouth.

"That's a good girl," he smirked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Take it all in for me..."

He leans back at me again and I expectedly open my mouth for him again.  His cum dribbled slowly from his mouth to mine and we both groaned at the erotic sight. "Swallow," he said.

I savoured his taste and swallowed, just like he wanted to. He bit his lips at my lewdness. "You did not just do that," I was bewildered.

"And what if I did?" Mingi smirked.

We lay next to each other, not saying a word, and just taking in what transpired between the two of us. I lay on Mingi's chest, tracing the tattoo on his chest.

"What's it for?" I asked absentmindedly.

"That, my love, is a brand that we wear to prove our loyalty," he replied patiently, rubbing my arms up and down. "Hongjoong drew it, himself."

"Does everyone have them?"

"Yes," he hummed. "Yunho has his on his chest too, Wooyoung and San both have theirs on their thighs. Hongjoong on his right wrist, Seonghwa on the left, Jongho on his arm, Yeosang on his back."

"I see," I replied lazily, laying back on his chest and just staying there. It wasn't awkward at all, I just felt relaxed with Mingi like this.

"You didn't reply to me earlier," Mingi's deep voice accused.

"With what?" I frowned, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"I told you I love you, I meant what I said," he sighed. "It wasn't a spur of the moment thing."

"But Mingi, this is only the second time we've seen each other, how can you love me?" I whispered, my tongue burning because I knew I was bullshitting myself with that.

"Don't be a hypocrite, precious," he chuckled. I huffed and he laughed. "You forget I'm the Don, I can see right through you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away from him.

He grabbed me gently and gave me a quick kiss. I blushed when he kissed my nose. "Admit it," he pressed.

"Admit what?"

"That you're slowly falling in love with me," he grinned. "Just like I am with you, my queen."

I cursed under my breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I frowned, trying to divert the topic.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "You mean 'my queen'? So you get used to it since I want you by my side when I rule."

"Bold of you to assume I'll agree," I murmured.

"I mean, we already fucked each other's brains out, I'm just saying--"

"Mingi!"

We laughed out loud, and we laughed even harder when all we heard from outside the door were: 

'Ha! Woo, you fucking owe me $50, I told you they'll make up!'

'Yeah, but the bet was if they make up before fucking, San!'

'I don't give a fuck. Hwa, you owe me too!'

'Me?! That was Yeosang!'

"Boss!"

I was startled when Mingi suddenly covered my whole naked body with the blanket protectively. Somebody just came through the door without knocking.

"Choi Jongho," Mingi seethed, shaking in anger. "It better be good or I swear I will shoot you on the spot."

"Ah," I heard our lovely driver fumble by the door. "Well, Hongjoong saw somebody steal the car in the garage."

Mingi sighed loudly. "Which one?"

"The white one."

"Well, did they break your legs first?"

"What?"

"I said," Mingi inhaled sharply. "Did they break your legs first?"

I stroked Mingi's thighs to calm him down. Though it turned me on to see him mad - sue me, he was hot - I liked Jongho and I don't want to see him dead yet.

"No," Jongho replied.

"So go and fucking chase it down, then!" Mingi howled. "Did you really have to go to me for that? Get the hell out of my room, out!"

"Hey, this is my house!" I heard Yunho shout from a distance.

"That I gave you!" Mingi screamed back.

I couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from my throat. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad trying to get along with everyone and see where this journey takes us. When Jongho shut the door, I peeked out from the blanket to find Mingi already staring at me.

"So," Mingi cleared his throat. "What now?"

I attempted to stifle a grin, but I failed. "Luckily for you, I like having power as well."

"Good," he beamed. I was in awe, where was the rugged and brusque man I met on the train station?

He bought out documents from the bedside table and began writing on it. "I just have to write your name in the official document so the enemy does not touch you," he explained when he saw me look at him curiously.

"They're eventually going to find out about you," he continued. "You have an English name, love?"

"Why?" I asked.

"For overseas," he shrugged. "Our operations extend out there, believe it or not."

I looked at him apprehensively. When Mingi saw me hesitate, he spoke up. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" he tenderly said. "I know this is a lot of change, but I promise you, nobody will hurt you. Hurting you will equate to hurting me as well. Any family I should know of?"

My heart swelled incredibly so. I was scared, terrified even, but I had a good feeling about him and everything that will come next.

"No," I smiled sadly. "I'm an orphan. And it's Rinoa."

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet my eyes. "You're very strong," he said with a small smile. "You have me and the boys now, no more worrying alone, okay? Put down your college information too, I'll pay for it from now on."

My eyes widened. "You don't have to," I whispered. "I've been managing on my own for years now."

"I know, love, but part of being mine is letting me take care of you. Let me take this burden off of your shoulders, okay?"

I wanted to tear up. I was confused, but felt very happy. "I hope you don't let me down," I whispered. " Or I'm going to beat you up," I grinned afterwards.

Mingi grinned back, kissing my hands tenderly. "I promise I'll give you everything and make you happy, and I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through."

"No more lies?" I pointed out.

Mingi shook his head. "No more lies."

"So what's your English name too?"

Mingi chuckled. "I won't lie," he smirked. "But I never said I won't ask for some sort of payment."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the cheeks. His eyes widened in response. "That was fast," he laughed. "Look at you already wanting to know things about myself."

"Glad to know you're still the cocky man I met," I laughed. "Would've been weird if you just suddenly changed."

I looked at him expectantly with a cheeky smile. He laughed out loud before responding. "It's Stellan.”

"It suits you," I commented. 

We stared at each other, just taking in the other person. Little by little, we'll get to each other, and it starts right here, and right now. "Come here," he began

He lifted me up to put me on his lap so I could straddle him and pulled me towards him until our lips danced in a game of truce.

I fell into his rhythm naturally as his arms wrapped around me and held me lovingly. I had found my lover with Mingi, and I had fallen in love with him.

[wileys-russo]

summer christmas II a.russo

third little christmas fic installment! summer christmas II a.russo

"less, you're being a little bit dramatic." you chuckled, laid on the bed watching your girlfriend rifle through her suitcase grumbling and mumbling under her breath. "i am not! this is just wrong, its all wrong." the english woman shook her head with a huff as you merely smiled in amusement.

"baby you're just hot and bothered, you'll adjust in a few days! you've barely been here twenty four hours." you assured, pulling yourself to sit against your headboard and crossing your legs underneath you.

"exactly, and in that twenty four hours i've slept for about two of them!" the normally soft spoken blonde snapped, yanking a red bikini out of her bag and tossing it into the ever growing piles of clothes on the floor beside her.

"that's just the jetlag babe. it was the same when you came here last time, unfortunately the flight and the time differences don't change lessi, i tried speaking to someone about it but apparently mere mortals can't change geographical lines and locations." you teased gently with a grin, perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowing together in a scowl sent your way shortly after.

"it wasn't anywhere near this hot when we were here in august, i'm going to melt!" the girl groaned, kicking her case closed and flopping down backwards on the end of the bed, face buried in her hands.

"thats because again its summer right now less. i also spoke with mother nature but she won't drop the temperature, turns out she's nearly as stubborn as you." you sighed sarcastically, laying down so your head was near hers as she rolled onto her side.

"you are not cute." the blonde warned as you winked, poking her nose as she smacked your hands away and rolled onto her back again.

"this is like opposite day on repeat! its supposed to be freezing cold and you wear hundreds of layers and drink hot chocolate and get cosy and have a fire and chop down a tree an-" your british girlfriend rattled off her regular traditions, ticking them off with her fingers.

"we can still do that stuff! well maybe not all of it, but we can watch christmas movies and go look at lights and have iced chocolates! we can take my nieces to the carols in the park, we can also go to the beach everyday and out on my brothers boat and we can stay out later because the sun doesn't set till after nine, and my mum got us all matching pyjamas! they're just...summer ones." you tried to assure, moving onto your stomach and looking down at her with a few encouraging nods.

"but its not the same! i've never had a hot christmas, all of its just wrong." alessia moaned, arms covering her face as you deflated a little and wriggled back to sit up, fiddling with your fingers in your lap for a second as doubts began to swirl around in your head at her words.

the two of you played at arsenal together and quickly clicked when alessia transferred, having met at a few social events the last couple of years you'd been in england and gotten close with some of your english teammates who'd gone above and beyond to make you feel welcome.

it helped having steph and caitlin around, and then now kyra, plus the rest of your matildas teammates scattered throughout london whom you regularly made efforts to catch up.

you and alessia had only been seeing one another for about a year and a half now but if you asked anyone who'd spent time with you during that period they'd tease you acted as if it had been much much longer.

last year you'd spent your first christmas in england with the russo family, finally having a reason not to go home which as much as it broke your mums heart she was overjoyed you'd met someone, bonus being it someone as kind and thoughtful as alessia was.

but this year you'd promised to come home for christmas, not having much of a chance to see your family all season between the olympics, international games, league games and champions leagues matches that had kept you more than busy the last twelve months.

you'd not expected your girlfriend to come with you, the two of you more than accustomed now to having to spend time apart playing for different countries. but when alessia teasingly floated the idea over dinner, feigning offence you hadn't asked her, it had all blossomed from there and now here she was.

you were much more used to the long haul flight home than the blonde was though, having done it dozens of times over the years for international commitments among the league games in england.

you'd come home pretty much the very day your break started, just under a week earlier than alessia to allow her to spend a little bit of the december break with her own family before she flew herself to australia.

but ever since you'd picked her up from the airport yesterday you could tell she was rather miserable.

there'd been turbulence and two screaming babies on the flight despite the fact the striker had flown business, which meant she'd not slept anywhere near as much as planned, and adjusting to the time difference hadn't been kind.

so slowly those doubts that you'd made a wrong choice asking her here grew louder and louder, until you just had to say something or else it felt as it you might burst.

"do you wish you'd stayed in england?" you asked quietly, attempts to mask the insecurity in your voice null and void as your girlfriend shot up, guilt written clear all over her face which sank as it caught the obvious nerves in your features that she regretted her choice to come home with you for the holidays during break.

"what? baby no of course not. i'm so excited to finally meet your whole family and spend time with them and with you, i'm so sorry for being so negative. i'm just tired and grumpy but that is not at all fair to take out on you." the blondes hands moved to settle either side of your face, bright blue eyes scanning yours as you gave a small nod, clearly not believing her.

"oh my love, really i am excited! we're going to do all that stuff you just said and i want to learn about your traditions and what you like doing for christmas. a summer christmas is just new for me thats all! but new things aren't bad things." alessia pushed, thumbs stroking your jawline and feeling the obvious tension in your body drop just a little at her words.

"less are you sure? it wouldn't be easy but we can find a flight back for you before christmas eve." you questioned, the taller girl nodding enthusiastically and leaning in to press her lips sweetly against yours a few times.

"more than sure, there's no need for that at all. this is no different to when you stayed in england with me and had a winter christmas last year, and you were nothing but cheerful and sweet and lovely the entire time." the blonde promised with another nod, stealing a few more kisses as the corners of your mouth upturned a little.

"mm theres that smile, welcome back." the striker grinned happily, a laugh finally leaving you as she practically tackled you back to the bed, moving on top of you as her hair fell around the pair of you like a curtain.

"i wasn't the one with the smiling problem russo." you poked her as she winced sheepishly. "i know. but from now on, i will embrace these new experiences with open arms!" the english woman announced, laying down on top of you and kissing all over your face.

"i'm happy to hear that." "yeah? i'm happy to say it." "good, because its thirty two degrees outside right now and the air cons only in the living room." you scrunched your nose up as the blonde faltered, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

"thats fine! i'm fine. lets just go to the beach!"

~

it turns out you and your girlfriend clearly had different expectations of what open arms and a beach day meant, as alessia lay on the beach recharging herself in the sun and you'd spent the entire time begging she get in the water with you.

"lessi come on! what happened to being open to new experiences?" you groaned, stealing her sunglasses and slipping them over your nose as she squinted up at you, sheltering her eyes with her hand.

"give!" the blonde demanded, making grabby hands as you shook your head and shuffled back on your knees. "swim!" you countered, smacking her thigh gently as she sighed heavily.

"swimming in december feels illegal." "not going in the water when you're at the beach is illegal." "babe the waves are huge, i'll get...what did you call it again?" "mm, dumped? we're not going surfing alessia!" you laughed, pushing her hand away where she reached for her sunglasses back again.

"but tanning feels so nice!" the blonde whined, arms covering her face. "you'll have plenty of time to get sunburnt like a little lobster baby, i promise." you cooed sarcastically, your girlfriend shoving you and finally sitting up on her towel.

"that was one time." "lessi its every time, you refuse to wear sunscreen!" "sun cream, and because it feels...sticky." "well does crying about how much it hurts to shower and peeling off your burnt skin feel better?" you countered quickly, the striker opening and closing her mouth.

"come on!" you hopped up to your feet, holding out your hand toward her and wiggling your fingers impatiently. "you know your persistence is incredibly irritating." alessia gave in, grabbing your hand as you pulled her up to stand.

"and here you used to find it endearing." you teased, the blondes hand smacking against your ass as you blushed and pushed her. "theres families here!" you warned as the girl smiled, simply shrugging and interlocking her fingers with yours as you tossed her sunglasses onto her towel and lead her down to the waters edge.

"how do you get in without being smashed by the waves?" her grip on you tightened as another set came rolling in. "timing. you see how the waves all crash here? thats the breaking point, once the last wave crashed you move past that, and then you just duck dive under the big ones until you get out the back!" you explained, the english woman staring on clueless as you laughed.

"come on, on three we run into the water. one, two..." again her grip on your hand tightened but she nodded none the less. "go!" you raced off but felt her hand slip out of yours, glancing back as alessia shook her head and remained rooted in position.

"how is it thirty five degrees and the water is freezing cold?" the striker scoffed having stepped one foot in and recoiled immediately as you grinned at her from the shallows.

"i swear babe if you say something about mother nature when i get out there i'll drown you!" the blonde warned seriously as you held up your hands, glancing over your shoulder.

"okay now, go baby!" you encouraged, waving for her to run to you, a moments hesitation passing before she gingerly waded in, wincing every few steps until finally she'd made it past the break point, the water barely up to her hips.

"jesus christ i'm going to get hypothermia!" the older girl wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver making you roll your eyes. "but i'm the dramatic one?" you questioned in disbelief. "no not dramatic baby, sensitive." the girl patted your cheek condescendingly with a pout as you narrowed your eyes at her.

"dickhead." you poked her with a shake of your head. "do you want to know a secret to adjusting to the water faster?" you asked as your girlfriend nodded eagerly.

"well its quite simple, you just get your head wet!" you grinned and before the taller girl could blink you'd barreled into her, sending her toppling over into the water as she surfaced with a gasp.

"oh you're dead." you squealed as you were tugged down into the water with her, plunged in head first before you popped back up with a cough, having swallowed a lungful of water in the purpose.

"hey you said snowball fights was a big thing in england?" you questioned, the two of you moving into water a little deeper as alessia nodded. "well we can do that too." you promised as the girl looked at you clearly confused.

"how? theres no snow." "no, but there is sand!" you grinned, smacking a handful of wet sand from the ocean floor into her hair as she gasped.

"are you fucking kidding-" "wave! duck!" you interrupted, grabbing her by the arm and pulling the pair of you under, tugging her out to swim even deeper past where the waves started and you could relax a little more.

"it was a joke!" you laughed as your girlfriend launched at you once you did, latching onto you and forcing your head back underwater with a grunt, the two of you wrestling in the water before you yelled for a truce.

"maybe this isn't so bad." the blonde admitted, swimming up behind you, arms circling your waist and her chin making a home on your shoulder as the pair of you stared back toward the beach, the water now calm and bright turquoise, sparkling where it was hit with the sun.

"thank you for agreeing to come." you turned your head, capturing her lips in hers with a soft smile. "thank you for asking me to come." alessia squeezed you appreciatively before you both turned back to your people watching.

"are they playing...cricket?" your girlfriend asked in bewilderment watching a young family race back and forth across the sand. "yeah! beach cricket, an aussie classic. but not surpassed by backyard cricket, which you'll get to experience on christmas day." you explained as the blonde hummed curiously.

"really?" "yeah! we have a tournament every year with the whole family even my nan and pop, between lunch and presents." "so we do christmas lunch, not dinner, right?"

you nodded, answering a few more questions about what the next few days had lined up for the pair of you, stopping your explanation of why santa was left a beer and not milk when familiar lips started to trail across your neck.

"you're going to get us in trouble if you leave a mark russo." you chuckled in warning, relaxing in her hold as the striker merely hummed, your eyes closing as your face was bathed in sunshine and soft kisses were peppered down your jaw.

"well your mums already made it very clear that i have permission." you groaned at that, pushing her away and pulling a face. "well you've ruined the mood with that haven't you." you huffed, starting to wander back in until fingers hooked into the sides of your bikini bottoms and tugged you backwards.

"i'm sorry! i've just never met a woman who took such healthy interest in her daughters sex life." alessia teased, your response swallowed with her mouth pressing to yours with a cheeky grin.

"its not funny! its humiliating she has no boundaries and we're stuck with her for the next week." you groaned, head resting against her shoulder as the girls thumbs traced circles against your hips, the two of you staying in your childhood home where everyone would be gathering for the holidays.

"baby its not that bad. she's just very...progressive! and supportive." "you know i think if you were a boy she'd have left condoms on the side table and the book of karma sutra on the bed."

~

"santa came get up get up get up!" you groggily lifted your head feeling three little bodies jump up and down on top of you, alessia stirring next to you with a tired exhale.

"are you awake yet? wake up!" one of your nieces shouted in your ear as you tiredly lifted a hand and made a thumbs up, the three young girls belonging to your older brother taking that as a yes and jumping down, racing off to wake up the rest of the family.

you exhaled tiredly, dragging your hands down your face and jolting as your door swung open again. "hope no ones naked! merry christmas girls, up we get!" your mum sung out, flinging open your blinds as you groaned.

"jesus christ mum come on!" your cheeks flushed red at her brash words feeling alessias body vibrate with a small chuckle beside you as the woman shrugged, flicking on your light and striding on out again.

"i think i'm adopted." you grumbled, rolling over and burying your face in your girlfriends shoulder. "well thats quite the wake up." the brit rasped out with another chuckle, hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

"merry christmas less." you pulled back and rested your head on your pillow again, bright blue eyes and a tired smile staring back at you. "merry christmas love." she repeated, pecking your lips quickly given neither of you had brushed your teeth yet.

"get up!" you both winced as a hand smacked against the wood of your door, your brother flipping you off in the doorway as you rolled your eyes and forced yourself up into a sitting position, alessia rubbing her eyes and exhaling, face still puffy with sleep.

"how is it already hot?" the english woman groaned in disbelief, the two of you sleeping under a thin sheet and even then barely able to touch one another bar a bit of hand holding when you were dozing off due to the thick humidity of your childhood bedroom.

"welcome to your first summer christmas." you laughed, running a hand through her hair as she hummed, the two of you gradually getting out of bed and already hearing the commotion of your family downstairs.

"mum no photos! its seven in the fucking morning." you groaned, wincing at the obvious click of her phone camera shoved in your face as you and alessia stumbled into the kitchen.

"oi you watch your fucking mouth!" your dad chimed in with a point making your girlfriend laugh and your eyes roll as the pair of you followed everyone into the living room.

"look look! this ones for me!" your eldest niece gasped, all three of them already riffling through the mountain of presents as you sent her an encouraging smile and collapsed onto the corner of the sofa.

alessia took a seat beside you as you slung one of your legs over hers, the pair of you exhaling in relief at the air con blasting right above you and wishing a merry christmas the rest of your family who were lounging around the room, your dad taking charge to handing out presents.

"oh thank you!" your girlfriend smiled appreciatively as he handed the pair of you one each, labeled from santa which you knew meant they were from your mum which was what you whispered in the blondes ear who chuckled and squeezed your knee.

though as you began to unwrap yours you realized very quickly you may have been a little too quick with your excitement, catching the word 'dental dams' on the side of the box and stuffing it down the side of the sofa before anyone else could see.

"oh my god mum!" "what? santa just wants you to be safe darling!"

[muzansfangs]

i’m such a slut for ukitake and age gaps 😩

imagine him lusting after the reader, who is centuries younger than him. he’s technically old enough to be her father. he shouldn’t be feeling this way about her but he simply can’t help it. especially not after finding out she secretly has a thing for older men 😏😏

(bonus points if reader is his vice captain)

The Captain’s guilt.

Starring: Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader; mention to Isane, Rangiku, Shunsui and Yamamoto;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, language, masturbation, self-deprecating, dirty fantasy, age gaps but the reader is 21+, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, shy!jushiro, struggling with feelings, unprotected sex, pussy drunk Jushiro, praise kink, dom!jushiro, sub!reader, use of alcohol, nipple play;

Plot: Your Captain is falling for you. Jushiro Ukitake, a noble shinigami, finds himself lusting after his young Lieutenant. Hiding his feelings and the effect you have on him is getting harder day by day. Your presence is intoxicating, but he tries his best not to ruin your relationship. When you end up confessing not only you are into older men, but you also have a crush on him, things take a turn. Nor you, neither him are surprised you ended up screaming his name in the middle of the night, after you offered to help him with work.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Good morning, Captain”.

Another day, another smile of yours, another boner he had to camouflage in his baggy robes, as you cluelessly waltzed into his bedroom with a silver tray in your hands to serve him breakfast. Stunning and loving, his Lieutenant, his downfall from the moral principles he had always slavishly followed. He could not control himself around you.

Whilst you knelt next to his futon, you poured some tea in a cup and blew on it to cool it down. When your eyes fluttered closed, Jushiro clenched the sheets in his hands, knuckles whitening for the firm grip as he cursed himself for wanting you. You looked like an angel, taking care of him motherly, as if you genuinely cared for him. Actually, you did, and he was aware of that. He could see it in the way you risked your life on the battlefield to watch his back, when he needed some time to rest, or in the way you looked for the best doctors in the Seireitei to get some medications for him.

If only you were older, or he was a tad younger. Souls aged slowly and, even though you were four hundred-years-old, you still looked like a young woman in her early twenties. He was much older than you. Jushiro was around, when Captain Yamamoto was a black-haired man who had recently fought back the Quincy King. He was still a kid, back then, but he was there.

He could be your father, but the flesh is weak. Or this is what Shunsui had always told him.

He was not the type to hook-up with women periodically like his best friend did. Right now, however, he really wished he had half of the guts and self-confidence the Captain of the Eighth Division had. Why? Just to have you in his arms, even briefly, a fleeting moment of bliss to let you know how ardently he desired you. Jushiro wondered if you knew he cared for you more than a Captain is supposed to for his underlings. What if you knew? What if your heart throbbed in your chest upon seeing him just like his did, when you entered his quarters?

Illusions. He was so delusional. You drove him insane. A medicine to cure his sickness, but a deadly poison to his heart. Life was not treating him kind.

“Captain?” you hesitantly said then, head tilted to the side, a knot forming between your eyebrows.

He had zoned out once again, apparently. Awesome, making a fool of himself in front of you had become his speciality. Jushiro cleared his throat, cheeks flushing as he realized you were holding the cup of tea out for him to grasp. His fingers brushed against yours, a nervous smile curving his lips upwards.

“Oh, thank you! — the white-haired man blurted out, hands wrapping around the warm cup as he shot you a grateful glance — It looks like I’m getting deaf too. It must he a pain dealing with this old man” he jested, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a small sip of it.

You chuckled, shifting onto your seat to push the tray aside “Old man? I’m sorry to contradict you, Captain, but you’re not old at all. Or, at least, you don’t look old” you said casually, watching the way the rational and placid man at your left lowered his cup from his mouth slowly, interested in your observation.

“Care to elaborate?” he asked you softly, admiring the way some rays of the sun set off the color of your hair, the features of your face, causing a warm feeling to engulf his lower abdomen. This was not good. You were there, merely complimenting him, reassuring him, and he was thinking about folding you in half underneath him like some damn Neanderthal.

A grin spread on your face, eyes straying away from his “Well, you might be older than most of the Captains and Lieutenants around, but you are a fairly handsome man. — you said, cheeks warming up as you tried to be discreet about the topic — I heard a lot of women praising your appearence, not just your charisma”.

The world seemed to stop revolving for a few seconds, but when you decided to add some other words to your already fluttering note, Jushiro wished the blanket was tick enough to conceal his pulsing cock from your attentive gaze.

“And I agree with them”.

You agreed. You thought he was handsome! You, the pretty girl he loved, the girl who was making him question his morals, the sweet girl he wanted to spend every night with really thought he was handsome. He felt lucky. His pale complexion left space to pinkish hues on his cheeks, his hand trembling as he settled his cup down not to spill the tea on the bed.

Jushiro leaned slightly forward, hands clumsily covering the small tent visible through the layers “R-Really? I don’t know what to say, but … Thanks, I guess. A boost of confidence every now and then is greatly appreciated” he stammered, but your eyes had been faster than his hands, your lips parting as you watched your Captain attempting to hide away his need from you.

How sweet of him. Ukitake Jushiro, your Captain, a man you admired, who had kind of watched you grow and who had trained you for years, was currently hot and bothered because of a couple of compliments. Your heart melted, a soft smile on your lips as you decided to leave some privacy to him. After all, he still had to finish his breakfast and the poor man was surely dealing with a rather uncomfortable problem right now.

You stood up, bowing your head reverentially “I have to attend the weekly Lieutenants meeting, Captain. See you later” you said, sparing him a last glance before leaving his room as normally as you possibly could.

If only you knew how reddish the tip of your Captain’s cock was, how terribly sorry he felt for feeling that way about you, how much he wished the thick white ropes of cum erupting from his member, as he jerked off were painting your tongue, instead of a tissue. He was obviously not better than Kyoraku and he was terrified at the mere thought of his cheeky friend realizing he was practically dying to be squashed by your thighs.

Spring days in the Seireitei meant peaceful nightly strolls for your Captain, but also a chance for you to catch up with your friends during your days off. What a coincidence you were sharing a few drinks with Rangiku and Isane in a pub not too distant from the park your Captain chose to spend his free time at. When Jushiro caught a glimpse of you, chattering with your fellow Lieutenants, drink in hand and exceptionally beautiful, he froze solid and decided it was better to change his path suppress his reiatsu not to draw your attention.

Two weeks had passed since the breakfast incident and he had tried his best not to create embarrassing situations in which you had to be stuck in a room with him alone. You had noticed he had been acting strangely, as of late, but confronting him about it was not a wise move. Who were you to make your Captain, a man you were devoted to, a man who carried himself with dignity, uncomfortable? Time would have fixed the situation, or you were confident things would have worked out just fine from now on.

Jushiro was about to turn his back and leave, when he heard the noisy Lieutenant of the Tenth Division ask you a spicy question “Kyoraku Shunsui. Smash, or pass?”.

He had no idea why he stood there in the shadows, feeling like a creep, as he awaited in trepidation for you to answer that stupid question. For some reason, though, it was important for him. He expected you to blend in with mass of girls swooning at Shunsui’s door and say you would have gladly shared your bed with him. He would have not blamed you for that. Every woman he knew had a thing for his best friend.

Still, you were his jewel. He did not want you to crave Shunsui. He wanted you to choose him. He was selfish, he knew his thoughts were impure and not appropriate. He was in no position to argue with you about the men you fancied.

“Pass” you curtly said, causing Rangiku and Isane to gasp and for Jushiro’s mood to brighten up again. He leaned his back against the wall, staring blankly at the Moon above him, electrified to hear you were not one of the numerous fangirls ready to kill to be Shunsui’s partner for the night.

Rangiku slammed her glass down onto the small table “Pass? Girl, you are the Dilfs’ fucker here! I expected you to throw your panties at him! What’s wrong now?” she piped out, voice too loud for your likings as you covered your face with your hands.

People were watching, obviously, snickering and shooting leering glances at your direction. Isane blushed, shaking her head as she snapped her fingers in front of Rangiku’s face to make her get a grip of herself.

“You drank too much! Lower your voice, people talk a lot!” Isane chided her, only for you to nod your head in agreement.

“I am not into Captain Shunsui, alright? Yeah, he is handsome and hilarious, but not my type” you clarified, folding your arms across your chest, causing the red-haired woman sitting across from you to squint her pale blue eyes suspiciously. She was not going to let this go easily. You were toasted.

She smirked “Oh, that’s interesting now… — she said, leaning towards you with an inquisitive gleam in her eyes — Who is your type then? Someone older than you for sure, but let’s see. Old man Yamamoto is decidely not on the list. May it be his Lieutenant, though?”.

Isane choked on her saké, coughing a few times in shock, while you kept an intense eye-contact with Rangiku “You are going to get us kicked out of this pub. Lower your damn voice” you warned her, as the waiter passing by your table gestured for you to restrain yourselves.

“Then speak up, girl. I have all night long and tons of important men to mention publicly. — she retorted, determined to make you confess who exactly was your crush — Say it, come on”.

“My Captain”.

You had not even realized you had blurted out that answer, until you saw your friends gape at you in genuine incredulity. It was not like they had not expected you to possibly fall for your charming Captain, but you had not been that reluctant to admit you had feelings for your superior. You did not imagine yourself having that conversation either, the urge to disappear into a black hole gnawing at your liver now. You took a swig of your drink, the burning sensation down your throat helping you to cope with your audacious confession.

“Have you two fucked?!” Rangiku inquired, only for the waiter to finally lose his temper and come at your table with a livid expression plastered over his face.

“You three! That’s enough, get out of here!”.

Giggling on your way out of the pub, you took the road opposite to the one where your Captain was finding shelter. Emerging from the darkness, he palmed his forehead, your words still ringing in his head like a pleasant song he could not stop thinking about. You liked him, you reciprocated his feelings. This did not make him less guilty for lusting after you, but it gave him the chance to act more confidently around you.

Enjoying the gentle breeze blowing through his long, white locks, Jushiro resumed his walk, head light as a feather, while relishing the thought of you in his embrace. For the night, he could forgive himself.

The next day came and with it some errands to run around the Soul Society. After being summoned by Captain Unohana, you were now entering your Captain’s quarters with a pile of documents to sign tightly pressed to your chest. Sighing, you were glad to find the door open. The fresh evening air provided a cool environment for Jushiro to work. It was not unusual for him to ask you to open the windows and leave the doors open on your way out.

Sitting at his desk, his haori draped over his broad shoulders, Jushiro was reading some reports about some Hollows causing troubles in the Rukongai. He would have not even acknowledged your presence, if you had not announced your arrival.

“Good evening, Captain! I’m coming in” you chimed, crossing the threshold with a small smile on your lips.

Jushiro flicked his eyes up from the papers, his lips mirroring yours in a soft smile that dropped at the sight of another stock of documents he was expected to check. Duties before anything, right?

“Ah, I see. It’s going to be a long night, I guess” he sadly realized, as you knelt down next to him and settled the files onto the desk.

“These are from the Fourth Division. — you explained, hands flatly splayed over the smooth wooden surface — You can’t stay up all night, Captain. You need to rest, or it might be detrimental for your health. With your permission, I would like to stay for the night and help you out”.

You were too sweet for him. He should have sent you away, denied your request, no matter how much he wanted to spend more time with you. He yearned for your company like a starving bear tasting honey and begging for more, striving to get to the top of the tree to reach the beehive and enjoy the nectar. However, it was night. Was he really ready to offer you a bed to sleep next to his one, once your eyelids were going to get heavy after tiring hours of work? He was going to die a painful death, admiring you and restraining himself from kissing every inch of your skin.

He had to refuse, but he knew you would protested. Therefore, he went to the extent to propose you a good compromise.

“I won’t let you work yourself to exhaustion. I will gladly accept your help for a few hours but, when it starts getting dark, you go back to your dorm” he suggested, tone placid but firm.

You shook your head, though, hand reaching for a brush and dipping it into the dark ink pot “I’m sorry, Captain Ukitake, but I will have to disobey your order and refuse your offer. — you calmly replied, signing the first document swiftly with your Captain sighing in defeat in the background — Now, let’s get this over with” you added, encouraging him by splitting the pile in halves and handing him one of them.

“You are way too lenient with me” Jushiro stated, before resuming his reading again.

And hours passed by. You chattered with your Captain, the pile of documents decreasing slowly but surely but you were not even close to be done yet. When dinner time came, you had a quick snack and persuaded your Captain to rest a little more than you did. Naturally, he promptly protested, but you ended up convincing him he would have been more proficient with some hours of sleep over his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he agreed and sleep found him easily.

While you worked, you lost the track of time. You forgot to wake him up as you had promised and you just kept on working until your back hurt. Glancing outside the window, the Moon greeted you and the clock indicated it was midnight. You were ready to grit your teeth and keep on pushing yourself to the limit, when you suddenly felt the familiar reiatsu of your Captain embrace you from behind. You straightened your back, eyes widening even so slightly, as his hands rested comfortably over the top of your shoudlers.

“I overslept. You should have called me” he pointed out lowly, gently, as you apologetically nodded your head and discarded the brush over the desk.

“I should have, but your health is more important than work to me” you objected, turning your head slightly to the side to meet his kind chestnut eyes. Jushiro was sitting right behind you, his large frame almost draped over your back like a blanket, as he grasped your wrist delicately and shook his head.

Goosebumps raised on the back of your neck, his chin grazing over the top of your head “It’s your turn to rest. Lean on me” he offered, causing your lower lip to quiver for the habit of opposing yourself to his kind offer.

But you were too tired to be helpful right now and you knew he was not going to let you continue for any longer.

“Ten minutes will be enough” you said, accomodating yourself, as he helped you lean your back against his chest, the sound of the fabric of your uniforms rustling in the friction was endearingly soothing. Just like his arms subtly snaking around your waist and your hands slithering over his bony ones, making your cheeks heat up exponentially.

You had never touched your Captain like that, albeit you wanted him to. You had played scenes like this one many times in your head, hoping he was going to do much more than simply hugging you. You needed more, you needed him. You wanted Jushiro with ever molecule of your body and, God, he desired you too. Your eyes fluttered close, his warm breath tickling your jawline, as his fingertips began to draw lazy patterns over your abdomen, trailing up towards your ribs and then stopping.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked you, his heartrate increasing notably. His hands itched to cup your breasts, to roll your hardening nipples between the pads of his fingers, to swallow your moans with his mouth. But without your consent, Jushiro was not going to go any further.

You arched your back, eyes opening again to peer up at him adoringly “Comfortable, you say? I’d dare to say I’m in Paradise” you whispered, smiling faintly, before your hands reached up to undo your shihakushō. Bold, you were pretty bold right now, under the gleaming eyes of your Captain.

You heard his breath hitch, his hands trembling when you grasped them to lead them to your breasts where he wanted to settle them “Don’t say a word. They’re needless. I want it, Captain. I’m tired to pretend” you murmured, head lolling back onto his shoulder as his large hands finally latched onto your mounds, gently squeezing them.

Your skin was like velvet at the touch, his own arousal causing him to buckle his hips up against your lower back. How shameful, how stupid of him to do such things to you, but you wanted it. His Lieutenant was begging him to go ahead and that night the kind and rational Captain Jushiro Ukitake lost his mind.

He gripped your hips firmly, forcing you to straddle his lap, his legs spreading yours wide, as he kept your back glued to his front. His fingers scambled to get rid of his own clothes, while you spared time by disrobing yourself too. Skin to skin, you were able to feel his hard rock abs graze your spine as he latched his lips over the crook of your neck.

You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut, while his hands went back to cup your breasts, stroking the hardening buds to elicit more whimpers from you. Your breath was uneven at this point, your mouth searching for his as you turned around and tugged down your pants, tired of waiting any longer.

Jushiro was awestruck, thumbs tracing your hipbones, as you rotated your hips over his “Kiss me, please” you whispered, your lips hovering over his, tempting the poor Captain to give you what you wanted. It was not too late to stop, he kept on repeating himself that, but he did not want to let you unsatisfied and the fire in his loins was consuming him too much to neglect his own need.

“Kissing you? I will do more than that” he whispered, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. His arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you close to him, were a cage you did not want to be set free from. Jushiro was gentle, handling you with a care no man had ever showed you, even when his tongue delved into your mouth and his fingers slipped underneath the waistband of your underwear, eagerly searching for your engorging pearl.

Shockwaves of pleasure made your skin sizzle, your hands cupped his smooth cheeks, as you moaned softly. Jushiro kissed your forehead, his cock twitching in his pants, when your wetness met his fingers. All of this was for him, your heat was dripping because you craved him! He was lucky, oh he was such a lucky man.

“You are … That’s for me, right? You are so good, Y/N-san, you are doing amazing for me. I will repay you for that, my sweet girl. I promise” he whispered, his hair sticking to his forehead as his fingers finally slipped into your core.

You could not talk much, babbling small words out was all you did, your lips leaving wet kisses over his neck and collarbone to show him your gratitude and love for him. Your orgasm hit you in waves, your inner muscles spasming around his slender digits as he watched your labia smeared with your arousal as you reached your climax. You were stunning, his hand glistened in your orgasm, as he quickly yanked his pants down and you crawled towards his unmade bed, panting, awaiting for him to join you.

When his member, ramrod, pulsing, slapped against his navel, you gulped down at the impressive size hungrily pointing at you. If only people knew about this side of him, they would die at his feet. Ukitake Jushiro lacked nothing that Kyoraku Shunsui had. He was just a victim of fate. If it was not for his sickness, he would have been unstoppable. Pumping his shaft a few times in front of you, Jushiro groaned softly, hooded eyes searching yours.

“Would you look at me the same way, if you knew what I did in the privacy of my bedroom when you left that morning?” he asked you, only for you to shake your head and hoist your legs around his hips.

“Nothing would ever change my opinion of you. — you replied, the tip of his cock probing at your entrance — I love you, Jushiro” you whispered, nosing his cheek when he caged you to the bed with his strong arms.

“I wish I could tell you not to love me, but I am twice as guilty. Forgive me, if you can. I love you, I have loved you for too long to keep it to myself” he said, before entering you with a smooth thrust of his hips.

You let out a strained moan, your tight walls causing Jushiro to grunt in bliss, his brows furrowed as he pressed his forehead against yours. Bottoming out took him a few seconds. Making his way inside of you, he had the care to gradually conquer inches without bruising you in the process. Tenderly, he looked at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he found none, he pulled back enough to let his tip buried into your heat and slammed back into you a little more vigorously.

Melodic moans left your mouth, neck strained back, when he set out a slow and firm pace to hit the spot that made you wrap your legs tighter around him. His white hair seemed the beautiful and cold stalactites hanging from the roof of your barracks, when it snowed. Handsome and yours, Jushiro kissed the valley between your breasts, praises to your beauty and dedication rolling out of his tongue every now and then.

“Beautiful, you should have posed for a painter in the World of the Livings. — he stated, voice muffled by your skin, when he sucked onto your nipple — A pre-raphaelite, those colors would have suited you” he murmured, tongue tracing the bud as his hips snapped towards yours more urgently now.

Your moans had grown louder, sweaty skin smacking together creating a repetitive sound any passer-by would have recognized. But you were too lost into his eyes, in the way the Moon seemed to make his hair glow like an halo around his head, on the way his muscular body would have crashed yours, if he was not attentive.

“Jushiro, please, don’t stop! — you breathed out, a throaty moan leaving your lips, when he grabbed your ankles and set them on the top of his shoulders — I am about to come” you warned him, watching the man above you speed up his movements.

He should have been careful not to overdo himself, but how could he when he was literally drunk on you? Ah your words, oh God, they were driving him insane.

“Come for me, darling. Make me happy, come for me” he incited you, grasping your hands and pinning them to the sides of your head with his ones. Fingers locked together, Jushiro thrusted into you faster, hitting your sweet spot with a perfect aim. Impeccable, sinfully celestial, you reached your climax around him with a powerful orgasm.

As you twitched and tightened around him, Jushiro’s mind went blank. He was not going to be just your Captain, not anymore. His, you were going to be his, as he was going to be yours. Just Jushiro Ukitake, a man in love, not a member of the Gotei 13.

Lolling his head back, he spurted his seed into you, guttural groans erupting from his throat as he filled you. Even though he had always followed the moral codes of a noble warrior, Jushiro Ukitake knew he had to sin that night. He could not let you slip from his fingers.

Someone had told him he would have fallen for a woman, sooner of later.

Therefore, sitting on a windy hill next to his best friend Shunsui, a couple of days later, he said “I plead guilty, your honor”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Thanks to the anon who dropped this into my inbox. I did not realize how much I yearned to write for this man until I found myself writing this piece! Thanks!

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are welcomed!

Until then,

x o x o

TAGS: @dehemetera @han11dh @bakugosgirl01 @silent-spirits @coowayeoo

[selarina]

continuation to this

so, that night gojo satoru leaves with no jacket and half a broken heart and for the first time since he was 12 years old, he takes a sip of alcohol as he slouches against his home bar.

it's bitter, and it tastes a bit too much like soy sauce for his liking but he sips and sips until he sees the engraved "S.G" inscription at the bottom of his glass.

"hello, husband," a voice comes from behind him, interrupting his sob fest.

and for a moment, for dumb little moment, he thinks it's you. the voice sounds nothing like you though, it's far too high-pitched, but he's dreamt of this far too much for him to imagine someone else calling him husband.

aya tsukino materialises next to him, and seats herself on a seat beside him. she moves with a certain a quiet sleekness that he barely caught her moving from behind him. or maybe, he's finally out of it. "excited for the wedding, then?" she deadpans as she pours herself a drink.

"thrilled," he parrots back, merely a barren echo of emotions.

there's more truth in this room than there's been in your shared room for weeks. because it's simple really— gojo doesn't want to marry her, and aya couldn't care less as long as she got the money his family had.

before they had even exchanged any words, it was clear that they had this silent agreement that the two of them had little to do with love and everything to do with societal expectations and status.

as gojo attempts to take another sip from his empty company, he can't help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. your anger, and the way you stood up for the love you believed in. it'll haunt him for the rest of his life.

he wonders if you'll genuinely come to understand that he did have you in mind when he left you. he doesn't want you to be a mistress, a dirty little secret. he's seen how it broke his mother apart. how could he wish the same fate upon you knowing how his mother's life ended?

you're strong, and he believes you will persist and he will see at the end of his life sleeping grey and old in his bed as he stares at the way the sunlight hits your laugh lines.

but he also remembers the way you cried in secret. he never brought it up, he never brings it up. he was just waiting for the day you'd be comfortable enough to cry in front of him but for now, he settles for meaningless presents he brings afterwards to wipe off the blue from your face.

he places his glass down with a clink, and he hears a resembling clink from aya. "i'll ask you this only once, gojo satoru," she speaks up. "do you want this marriage?"

"i never wanted this marriage," his reply is immediate.

"of course not," she says. "i meant, do you still want to go through with this?"

he doesn't respond. the both of them know the answer to that, it's written all too clearly on his soppy little face.

"what if i don't," he finally speaks. "what about your money? your status?"

"my money..." she feigns to ponder. "as someone who's always sought out money, i can tell you one thing about it. money, it comes and it goes. i'll find another way as i always do," she says. "i will be fine."

"your father—"

"—is a terrible man, who will go on his pissy campaign against me but i hope it's not presumptuous of me to expect you to come to defence when needed. you know, for all the trouble?"

he chuckles with no mirth. seems trouble is all he's capable of causing the past few days. "of course," he responds.

aya smiles, she supposes there's one benefit of having the strongest sorcerer as her ex-fiancé. she stands up, as she pulls her coat snug against her body as she prepares to leave. "besides, you're not the only rich high-status man in town, you know?"

"well, they're not all me," he replies. his smug demeanour returning to him like it's breathing a new life into him.

"wow, a bonus too," she chuckles.

"and who was that handsome man with you on friday? blonde, glasses, chiselled like a—"

"nanami kento," he replies with a grin.

"nanami kento. is he rich?"

"not as rich as you," he replies. it's true. he's rich, he worked on wall street after all and nanami is a smart man, he has so much in his savings account, it's enough to feed an entire nuclear family. why he saves up is something that's beyond gojo.

"well, he's handsome. tell mr. kento i said hello," she smiles facetiously.

"tsk, fine." he grins again. "get out of here."

-

it's been a week since you heard about the wedding falling apart. and since, you've been hearing about it daily, almost hourly if you're being honest. after all, you're at the centre of it. it only makes sense.

there's a whole slew of narratives running around, cheating, money laundering, even murder. but the most popular one was about how aya was the rosaline to your romeo and juliet. gojo's as romeo as he comes — handsome, influential and maybe a bit endearingly dumb but you fail to see how you're juliet. she was rich, influential, beautiful — everything you've been starkly reminded that you are not.

but everyone's talking about the romance of it all and you haven't heard from gojo himself so it's strange to take their words to mind or heart. you ignore them, forming a ready-made response sheet in your head to every possible question you encounter across the week. they become white noise, as you go through your day like a pre-programmed robot.

but that changes on a hot, dusty afternoon as you're sitting in a cafe, awaiting a man you were advised against seeing, and he's late. of course, he's fucking late. he broke up with you and he has the audac—

he walks in. he looks exhausted, lankier than usual, and there's a cruel part of you that likes it. to know he looks as miserable as you've been seeing. there's the other, familiar part of you that wants to run your fingers against his sensitive eyes as you feed him with the warmth of the diner's food.

but you do neither, you neither smile nor frown. you sit in place as you wait for him to come and sit opposite you.

"hey," his voice sounds gravelly. "i'm sorry i'm late."

"nothing i'm not used to," you reply with a glare as you cross your arms.

his hands reach for the menu as he plays with the edges of the paper. he always orders the same breakfast meal from this place. he must be nervous.

"i... i wanted to talk to you," he starts. "i want you back."

"excuse me? you can't just—"

"i'm willing to do anything. anything. if you want to take it slow, i understand. if you want to take your time, i understand. if you want me to get down on my knees and beg, i understa—"

"do it."

his eyes widen, you can tell — even though the black glasses are blocking his eyes, you can tell. it only lasts for a split second, because you blink with contempt and he's beside you. on his knees, as he stares up at you. he barely stares up at you — he's so tall, he's almost eye-to-eye with you. but even so he hunches his back, makes himself small.

"i'm sorry," he says again, as he takes off his glasses placing it onto the table in front of you. his eyes are alarmingly blood-red, and it takes every muscle in your body to hold back from running your fingers over his. "like i said, i'll do anything. just pleas— take me back."

you stare, and he stares back at you. you're too lost in the way he looks at you — at your mercy — that you miss the strange and baffled looks from people around you. and when you finally do, your cheeks flush with heat.

"okay," you say. " please, get up now."

"no, let me— let me stay," he says. pleads. "just let me stay until you take me back."

"fine," you sigh, as if there was any real objection from your side. "get up now."

"really?" his blood-red eyes gleam, you could almost see a tinge of the vibrant blue coming back to life.

"yes," you groan as your hand grip his elbow. "i was willing to be your fucking mistress. did you really thin— i would say— mmpph"

and just like that he's up, sliding next to you on your seat, as he kisses you. you're ashamed to admit that your first thought was the idea of getting kicked out for public indecency but your second thought was about how you think you could stay like this forever. despite the public gawking at you through mean and baffled stares.

"i'm serious about doing whatever it takes," he says, sincerity laced in his voice. "you shouldn't let me get away with this lightly."

you smile. "I hope you mean it," you reply. "and i won't. i’ll make you work for it, just a little."

he nods with a smile, "anything. i'll make it up to you."

"you have to do the chicken dance," you say, seriously and firmly.

"what?"

"you have to do the chicken dance. right now in the middle of the diner and i'm taking a video," you pull out your phone. "and... i'm sending it to nobara."

his eyes widen, almost like he's feeling actual fear. "not nobara," he gasps. "but she's so mean, baby."

"well, you said anything."

he sighs. gojo looks around the crowded diner, his tall frame rigid and tense. he glances at you, then at your phone, and finally resigns himself to the absurd request.

"fine," he mutters, standing up from the seat as he begins flapping his arms and doing a clumsy version of the chicken dance in the middle of the diner.

[nina-ya]

Thank you to everyone who submitted something for this event! I am looking forward to fulfilling these requests and giving you guys gifts!!!

𖧷 law masterlist 𖧷 strawhats masterlist 𖧷 other characters masterlist 𖧷

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*: DAY 1- Dracule Mihawk + wrapped up like a present (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 2- Charlotte Perospero "Your hands are freezing!" (SFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 3- Monkey D. Luffy + Bodies roasting by the open fire (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 4- Caesar Clown + Kissing in the snow (SFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 5- Portgas D. Ace + Kitchen sex (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 6- Sir Crocodile + "Don't tell me you're not cold. You're freezing, come here." (SFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 7- Trafalgar Law + "You're not spending Christmas alone." (SFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 8- Portgas D. Ace + "I'm so cold!" "I can find a way to keep you warm." + temperature play (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 9- Nico Robin + "Your hands wrapped around me sounds like a pretty good present, don't you think?" (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 10- Trafalgar Law + "I'm so cold!" "I can find a way to keep you warm." (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 11- Dracule Mihawk + bodies roasting by the open fire (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DAY 12- Eustass Kid + "I don't think you're supposed to burn that" (SFW)

I got more requests than slots and some of these were just too good for me to pass up!! So throughout the upcoming weeks I am going to be sprinkling these bonus fics as well!

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BONUS #1- Trafalgar Law + "Don't tell me you're not cold. You're freezing, come here." (SFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BONUS #2- Trafalgar Law + Wrapped up like a present (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BONUS #3 - Portgas D. Ace + "If you keep doing that you're going to make me end up on the naughty list tonight" (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BONUS #4- Trafalgar Law + "Since I can't ride in Santa's sleigh, can I ride you instead?" "Sorry, what?" (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BONUS #5- Monkey D. Luffy + "I'm so cold!" "I can find a way to keep you warm." (NSFW)

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BONUS #6- Roronoa Zoro + getting caught under the mistletoe

[kiwriteswords]

Hotch and Reader are both in love with each other and have been for years but are both too professional and care too mcuh about work and ruining things so they dont get together but they end up getting together finally. its angsty and delicious!! with a happy ending ofc! (bonus if smut is added at all!?!?!)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: So sorry this one took so long to share, anon! I hope it's all you hoped for! xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, feelings un-acknowledged, canon-typical injuries, language, fade-to-black smut, sexual themes, friends with benefits, friends with benefits turned relationship, slow burn, family dynamics, intimacy with feelings, proposal, talk of marriage.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner has always been a man of order and control, carefully compartmentalizing the demands of his work and personal life. But when a long-standing partnership with a member of his team—you—begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, he’s forced to confront feelings he’s buried for years.

Aaron Hotchner had always been good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill he'd honed over years of leading the BAU, of balancing the chaos of his work and the fragile peace of his home life—or what passed for home these days. And you? You were a complication he never anticipated but somehow couldn’t imagine his life without.

You’d been with the team for years, carving your place with sharp wit, unwavering competence, and a sense of humor that could soften even the darkest days. Somewhere along the way, your partnership had morphed into something more. Late nights at the office became late nights at his apartment, pouring over files as Jack played in the living room. Work dinners turned into shared takeout meals, laughter filling his kitchen. And the tension—the chemistry between you both—it became a thread stretched taut, always on the brink of snapping.

But neither of you ever said a word.

Hotch couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, exactly. Maybe it was the time you showed up with a Batman figurine for Jack, just because he’d mentioned liking the character once. Or the way you sat with him on the couch after Haley’s death, saying nothing, just being there when he needed it most. Or the way you touched his shoulder during a case, grounding him when his anger threatened to boil over.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, you were a constant in his life, and he had no idea how he’d let you become that. Friends with benefits, the team might have called it if they weren’t too polite to say it out loud. But it wasn’t just the sex—though that was undeniable. It was the quiet moments. The way you fit seamlessly into his life, into Jack’s life. Like you belonged.

Like you were family.

Hotch watched you now, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a game controller in hand, as Jack giggled beside you. You feigned frustration as Jack’s character beat yours on the screen, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“You’re cheating,” you teased, pointing an accusatory finger at Jack, who grinned up at you.

“I am not!” Jack protested, his voice full of glee. “You’re just bad at this.”

“Bad at this?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d mortally wounded you. “I’ll have you know I used to be the reigning champion at this game.”

Jack tilted his head, squinting at you skeptically. “When? Like, a hundred years ago?”

Hotch couldn’t hold back a laugh from the couch, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Careful, Jack. She might just ground you for that one.”

You spun around, pointing the controller at Hotch like a weapon. “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on Jack’s side,” he said smoothly, the rare smile tugging at his lips, softening the tease. “He’s clearly the underdog here.”

Jack beamed, puffing out his chest. “See? Dad gets it.”

“Traitors,” you muttered, shaking your head dramatically before turning back to the game. “Fine. But if I win the next round, you both owe me ice cream.”

Jack laughed harder, leaning against you as if you’d always been there. “You’re not winning,” he declared. “And even if you do, I pick the flavor. No weird ones.”

“No weird ones? Jack, I have excellent taste. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.”

“Mint chocolate chip is gross,” Jack said, sticking out his tongue.

You gasped in mock outrage. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far.”

Hotch set his mug down, leaning back into the couch as he watched the scene unfold. This was his favorite view: you and Jack, a picture of domesticity he didn’t dare name.

The ache in his chest was familiar by now. Warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

Later, after Jack had gone to bed, Hotch found you in the kitchen, drying the dishes. It was a quiet ritual you’d fallen into over time, one neither of you had ever acknowledged aloud. The hum of the dishwasher and the soft clinking of plates filled the space between you, but it was far from silent. The weight of everything unspoken lingered, just like it always did.

Your shoulder brushed his as you reached for a glass, the simple contact sending ripples of awareness through him. It was ridiculous, he thought, how something so small could affect him so much. But that was how it had always been with you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, though he already knew the answer.

You glanced at him, a hint of amusement in your expression. “You know I don’t mind.”

Of course, you didn’t. You never minded. Whether it was a case of collapsing into bed together after a high-stakes day or nights like these—quiet, uneventful, and free of tension—you always stayed. It wasn’t just about the times the chemistry boiled over; it was about all the moments in between. The ones that felt effortless.

Hotch set the last plate on the drying rack and turned toward you, wiping his hands on a towel. “Jack really likes having you here,” he said, his tone conversational but deliberate. “He talks about you all the time.”

“And you?” you asked lightly, with a teasing lilt that tried to downplay the weight of your question. “Do you like having me here?”

His brow lifted, a rare smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I? You help with chores and keep Jack entertained. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “Deflect all you want, Hotchner. I know you’d be lost without me.”

He allowed himself a small chuckle, one that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though his voice held more warmth than his words. “But I like having you here. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard for just a moment, but you recovered quickly, the teasing smile returning to your lips. “Good,” you said simply, returning to dry the last dish.

By the time the house had settled into silence, Hotch found himself in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unwound from the day. He heard your soft footsteps before you appeared in the doorway, your presence familiar and steady. You didn’t pause or hesitate, instead crossing the room to climb into the bed—his bed, though it had long since stopped feeling like just his.

You always stayed, and it had become a routine neither of you commented on. The guest room was just there for show, untouched and unnecessary. Some nights, the pull of tension between you snapped, leaving no room for words or space. Both of you would end up breathless and wanting in bed. Other nights, like this one, were quieter. Still, you stayed.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” you asked, your voice low and tinged with humor. You were already lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, as you watched him with a curious gaze.

Hotch smirked faintly, shaking his head as he joined you, slipping under the covers. “I thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet,” he replied, his tone dry.

“I don’t think you’d know what peace and quiet were if it hit you in the face,” you shot back, though your words held no bite.

He settled beside you, his arm coming around you instinctively as you shifted closer. It was a gesture that felt as natural as breathing now, one neither of you ever acknowledged, but both seemed to rely on.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft against the stillness of the room, “it’s kind of funny how we never talk about this.”

“This?” he echoed, though his hand lightly tracing circles on your back betrayed the calmness of his tone.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “Me staying. Us… whatever this is.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered his response. “Talking about it might ruin it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile he couldn’t see in the dark but could feel in the way your body relaxed against his. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of the things neither of you dared to say aloud. And as you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest, Hotch allowed himself the brief indulgence of pretending that this—your warmth, your presence—was something permanent. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Your company was appreciated and needed more than Hotch knew, even at work. The case was brutal. A family annihilator who preyed on vulnerabilities, using twisted logic to justify his violence. Hotch could feel the weight pressing down on him, but he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were there, as you always were, your presence steadying him.

When the unsub was in custody, and the team returned to the precinct, you lingered in the corner, watching him. He could feel your gaze like a physical touch as if you were daring him to break the silence that stretched between you.

“You okay?” you asked finally, your voice soft. Never prying. 

He nodded, but the truth hung in the air, unspoken. He wasn’t okay. Neither were you. But that was the deal, wasn’t it? To keep moving forward without acknowledging the things that could break you.

That night, back at the hotel, the weight of the day lingered on Hotch’s shoulders, pressing harder with every passing moment. Cases involving families always hit him differently, carving into the parts of himself he worked so hard to protect. But tonight, something else tugged at him—a sharper, deeper ache he couldn’t shake. It was you. It was always you.

He’d known you’d come. You always did on nights like this, when the line between partner and something more blurred into nothingness. The knock on his door was soft but unmistakable, and when he opened it, there you were, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this wasn’t an unspoken ritual.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway,” you said, your voice low, tinged with exhaustion but still carrying that edge of teasing familiarity.

“Neither were you,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

The door closed softly behind you, but the tension in the room was anything but quiet. It filled the space between you like a storm waiting to break. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, and Hotch couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on you—the curve of your shoulders, the set of your jaw, the flicker of vulnerability in your expression you probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

“Rough day,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “They always are.”

You crossed the room, your steps slow and deliberate, until you were standing just in front of him. “But this one was worse,” you said softly, your voice lacking the teasing edge it usually carried. “For both of us.”

Hotch didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing harder than ever. But you didn’t seem to need his response. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze steady, searching, and then you moved closer.

It happened all at once and yet not at all suddenly, as though it had been building for hours. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate as if he was afraid you might vanish. And you let him, meeting his intensity with your own, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him as tightly as he held you.

It wasn’t just adrenaline from the case or the pull of attraction that neither of you could deny. It was the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was the only way either of you knew how to deal with the weight of the lives you led. It was raw, honest, and utterly consuming.

You tugged at his tie, loosening it with practiced ease, your movements steady but charged with purpose. His breath hitched as your hands brushed against his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with a deliberate slowness that had his pulse racing. His own hands mirrored your urgency, sliding under the fabric of your blouse, feeling the heat of your skin against his palms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough but soft, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused just long enough to look into your eyes. The question wasn’t about this moment—it was about everything. About stepping closer to the line, you both swore you wouldn’t cross but had already blurred so many times.

You didn’t answer with words; instead, you pulled him back into a kiss, which was softer this time but no less consuming. Your lips moved against his in a way that spoke of trust, of understanding, of a desire too strong to deny. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say aloud into the way he held you.

When you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, your voice was low and steady. “I’m here, Aaron. Always.”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him gave way. He guided you toward the bed with a gentle but unwavering urgency, his hands never leaving you. The soft glow of the room’s lamp cast warm shadows across your features as you looked up at him, your expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty that made his chest tighten.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain.

When you reached up to touch his face, brushing your fingers against the faint stubble along his jaw, he leaned into your touch instinctively. “Aaron,” you said again, his name a quiet anchor pulling him further into you.

He tilted his head down, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“I think I do,” you replied softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Because it’s the same thing you do to me.”

The admission hung between you like a fragile truth, one neither of you had dared voice before. But instead of shattering the moment, it only seemed to deepen the connection that pulsed in the quiet space between your bodies.

Hotch’s hands found the hem of your blouse, his movements deliberate as he slid it up and over your head. His fingertips brushed your skin, the contact sending sparks of warmth that spread through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your touch steady despite the tremor of anticipation that hummed in the air.

When you finally settled on the bed, his weight pressing into the mattress beside you, the world outside the walls of the hotel room ceased to exist. The past, with all its heartache and shadows, faded away, leaving only the present—this moment, this connection, this intimacy you both shared.

Hotch leaned over you, one hand bracing himself beside your head, the other trailing along the curve of your side. The way he touched you was reverent like he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the quiet intensity of the moment.

But there was something else beneath that tenderness—a tension he could no longer hold back. His lips pressed harder against yours, the kiss deepening with a newfound urgency. His hand slid from your side to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you closer as if closing the space between you would somehow quiet the storm raging inside him.

When you gasped softly against his mouth, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, usually so controlled, were filled with something raw, something unguarded. "Tell me if it’s too much," he said, his voice rough, the words both a request and a warning.

Your answer came not in words but in the way you hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as if daring him to let go. “It’s never too much,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flush of heat in your cheeks.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid up your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was demanding, consuming, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

Hotch’s other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access as he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his breath warm against your skin. When his teeth grazed just enough to make you shiver, he chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Still okay?” he murmured, though the way his hands gripped your waist betrayed his struggle to hold back.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The restraint that usually defined him seemed to unravel as his kisses grew rougher, his hands exploring with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. He shifted, guiding you further back onto the bed, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. The way he moved, the way he touched you—it was as if he was trying to claim you, to prove that this moment, this connection, belonged to both of you and no one else.

As his lips returned to yours, his hands found yours, pinning them gently above your head. His weight and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of anticipation through you. "You’re mine tonight," he said, the words rough but filled with a quiet reverence that made your breath hitch.

“And what about tomorrow?” you teased softly, though your voice trembled with the weight of the moment.

Hotch’s grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his expression darkening with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. “Let me have tonight first,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, and completely his.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain. Times like this, when cases were especially bad, it was a little rougher than tender, but neither of you seemed to mind.

The silence in the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been shouted without words. Hotch’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath your head, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, grounding both of you in a moment that felt suspended in time. The storm of the night had calmed, leaving in its wake a raw, unfiltered intimacy that neither of you could explain—or acknowledge.

But then you shifted.

The movement was subtle at first, just a slight pull away from his side, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He felt your warmth leave him as you turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He watched as you reached for your clothes, your movements slow but deliberate, your back to him.

“You’re leaving?” The words came out gruffer than he intended, his voice low and edged with something he couldn’t quite define—something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing on the fabric in your hands. “I should,” you said quietly, though your tone lacked conviction. “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Hotch sat up then, the sheet pooling around his waist as he leaned forward. “You usually stay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression guarded, but your eyes betrayed you. They always did. “It’s different tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Different how?”

You stood, pulling on your shirt as if the action might shield you from the conversation you were both teetering on the edge of having. “I don’t know,” you said finally, shaking your head. “It just… it feels too close. Like if I stay, it’ll mean something.”

Hotch swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He reached for your wrist, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop you. “It already means something,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to face him. “We don’t talk about this, Aaron. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” he admitted, his grip loosening just enough to let you pull away if you wanted. “But tonight—” He paused, the words catching in his throat. “Tonight, I don’t want you to go.”

That stopped you. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both refused to say hung between you. You looked at him like you were trying to decipher some unspoken truth, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze. He couldn’t. He needed you to understand.

“I don’t know if I can,” you said finally, your voice wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing now, closing the space between you. His hands found your shoulders, grounding you just as yours had grounded him earlier. “Just for tonight. Stay.”

Your walls were up; he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, and your shoulders tensed. But he could also see the crack in your resolve, the way your lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something you might regret. You nodded slowly, and his hands dropped from your shoulders, relief washing over him in a way he didn’t entirely understand.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch stepped back, giving you space even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull you closer. You climbed back into the bed, your movements slower this time, less certain. When you finally settled beside him, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence was heavy with understanding. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and he didn’t know if either of you could keep pretending this wasn’t something more. But for now, it didn’t matter.

You were here, and that was enough.

The room was quiet again, save for the rhythmic hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the faint sounds of life beyond the walls. You were back beside him, though the space between your bodies felt heavier than before, as if the rawness of what had just happened was an invisible barrier neither of you wanted to cross.

Hotch’s arm rested lightly on your back, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder in slow, deliberate motions. He could feel the tension in your body, the way your breathing was steady but shallow, as though you were trying to keep your emotions at bay. He didn’t push; he never did. But tonight, the weight of everything unspoken was almost suffocating.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less firm than it had been when he asked you to stay.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at him, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, and there it was—your defense, sharp and ready, a shield to deflect the vulnerability threatening to surface.

“No.” The word came out before he could stop it, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your eyes softened just slightly, but you quickly masked it, shifting to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels… different,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like the other times.”

Hotch turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. “It is different,” he said, his gaze steady on you. “But I think it’s always been different. We just don’t say it.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh, turning your head to meet his eyes. “We’re not exactly great at saying things, are we?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little humor in it. “No, we’re not.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if trying to absorb his words without letting them take hold. When you opened them again, there was something softer in your gaze, something that looked a lot like surrender. “You scare me sometimes,” you admitted quietly. “Not in the way you think. Just… the way you make me feel.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Because I do.”

The air between you shifted then, the tension softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked as though daring each other to break the silence. Then, slowly, you reached for him, your hand finding his and lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly, almost as if reassuring yourself as much as him. “But just for tonight.”

It was always more than just tonight. 

Hotch nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned down to kiss your forehead—a gesture so tender it felt almost out of place between the two of you. “Just for tonight,” he echoed, though the way his hand tightened around yours betrayed the truth.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, and for a while, you both lay there in silence, the unspoken words still hanging in the air but no longer suffocating. Whatever this was between you—messy, undefined, and terrifying—it was enough for now. It had to be.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on control. In his work, in his demeanor, in the way he navigated the chaos of the BAU—it was a skill he had honed to perfection. And yet, when it came to you, control felt like a slippery thing, something he grasped at but never fully held.

The days following that night settled back into the rhythm you and Hotch always maintained—something hovering between routine and denial. At work, you were as efficient and professional as ever, the picture of a seamless partnership. You exchanged clipped updates about cases, worked in sync during briefings, and traded subtle glances across the room that said more than words ever could.

Outside of work, the lines blurred more than ever. You still joined Hotch and Jack for movie nights, helped Jack with his homework, and shared quiet dinners that felt far too domestic for two colleagues who claimed not to be anything more. You fell back into bed together on those nights when the tension boiled over (and many nights when you both were just too tired not to just be), and yet neither of you ever spoke about what it meant. That was the unspoken agreement: not to name it because naming it would make it real.

It worked. Until Beth.

She had been kind, warm, and direct in a way that took him by surprise. Meeting her at the park had been pleasant enough—a chance encounter during one of his runs training for the triathlon. She’d struck up a conversation easily, and before he realized what was happening, she was smiling at him in that way, the kind of way that left no question about her intentions.

“I-I could use some tips--if you’re not busy?” she’d asked, her tone light but confident.

For a moment, Hotch froze. His first thought, inexplicably, was of you—how you’d look at him if you knew, the slight quirk of your brow, the teasing edge in your voice. And yet, beneath that, there was something else. Something heavier.

“I—” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t know my schedule. I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, as you sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through a case file while Jack played nearby out of hearing, Hotch broke the silence.

“Someone asked me out today,” he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. 

You didn’t look up immediately, your focus still on the file, but he caught the way your hand stilled on the page. “Oh?” you said lightly, though the tightness in your tone betrayed you. “Anyone I know?”

He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “A woman I met at the park. Beth.”

“Beth,” you repeated, setting the file down. You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “And what did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He paused, studying your reaction closely. “It felt… strange.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Strange how? Like you haven’t been asked out in a while? Or…?”

Hotch sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like it would be wrong. Like I’d be… cheating.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Cheating? Aaron, we’re not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But it still felt that way.”

You leaned back against the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. “How would you feel,” you asked after a long pause, “if someone asked me out?”

The question was quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you. Hotch’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His first instinct was to deflect, to downplay it, but the truth was already clawing its way to the surface. His eyes darkened at the thought. 

“I’d hate it,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I’d hate it, and I’d probably want to throw a punch.”

Your eyes widened slightly, his uncharacteristic bluntness catching you off guard. But instead of teasing him, you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you mirrored his posture. “Really?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“Really,” he replied, and then, after a pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There was a time… that officer in Seattle, the one who wouldn’t stop hitting on you.”

You blinked, clearly startled by the shift in the conversation. “The one who called me ‘darlin’’ every five minutes?”

Hotch nodded, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I had all I could do not to step in. Every time he touched your arm or found some excuse to be near you, I—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to will away the irritation that still simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t professional.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “You were jeal-ous.”

“I wasn’t—” he started to protest, but the sharp look you gave him cut him off.

“You were totally jealous,” you said, your smile widening. “You hated that someone else even thought about getting near me.”

Hotch shifted in his seat, his expression stern but not quite able to hide the faint flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You tilted your head, your gaze playful but laced with something warmer, deeper. “You know, it’s kind of hot.”

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, though the way he avoided your eyes betrayed him.

You laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension between you. “Fine. But admit it—you wouldn’t like it if someone else was interested in me.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t. Because…” He sighed, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair. “Because it would mean someone else has something I want but won’t let myself have.”

The confession hung between you, raw and unfiltered. You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening, though there was still a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Aaron…”

“I know we don’t talk about this,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “But you asked, and that’s the truth.”

You leaned back again, your arms wrapping around yourself as if for protection. “I don’t think I’d like it much either,” you admitted quietly, scrunching your nose at the thought. “If someone else had what I already think of as mine.”

Hotch’s breath caught at your words, and for a moment, the weight of what you’d both said seemed too much to bear. But then you looked at him, and something in your expression shifted—a quiet resolve that mirrored his own.

“We’re really bad at this, huh?” you said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Terrible,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly despite himself.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but it was also full of understanding. Neither of you had the answers, and maybe you never would. But for now, the truth was out there, raw and unspoken, just like everything else between you. And somehow, that was enough. For now.

Life fell back into its strange, unspoken rhythm. You and Hotch continued your routines, the moments that felt too much like a relationship carefully tucked away, ignored but ever-present.

Hotch had made his decision about Beth without much thought, declining her offer politely but firmly. He told himself it was because his life didn’t allow for complications like dating, but he knew the real reason. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and neither did you. But sometimes, when you caught his eye across the bullpen or during a quiet moment at his apartment, there was a weight in your gaze that mirrored his own. It was easier not to talk about it.

The unsub had been cornered, a desperate man with nothing left to lose. Hotch could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his hand twitched around the gun. You stood a few feet away, crouched behind a car door, your gun trained on the suspect.

“Put it down,” Hotch commanded, his voice steady, calm, despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

The unsub didn’t move, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch like a cornered animal. Then, in an instant, he shifted his aim—toward you.

It happened so fast that Hotch didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He moved before the shot rang out, his body blocking the line of fire as he tackled you to the ground. Pain flared in his shoulder, sharp and searing, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rolled to shield you as Morgan and the local PD took the unsub down, disarming him within seconds.

“Aaron!” Your voice was sharp, filled with anger and panic as you shoved him off you, your hands immediately moving to his shoulder. “Are you—damn it, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine!” You glared at him, your hands pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as the medics approached. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wasn’t going to let you get shot,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t argue as the medics came to his side. 

Hotch sat in the back of the ambulance, his jacket discarded and his shirt pulled down over his good shoulder to expose the wound. The paramedic worked efficiently, stitching up the graze with practiced precision. He barely winced, his focus not on the pain but on you.

You were pacing a few feet away, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you muttered to yourself. He could tell by the sharpness of your movements and the tension in your jaw that you were furious. He also knew it wasn’t just anger; it was fear, worry, and something else neither of you would admit.

“Does she know you’re okay?” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. Hotch turned to see Rossi and Morgan standing at the back of the ambulance, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“She knows,” Hotch replied curtly, his tone dismissive.

“She doesn’t look like she knows,” Morgan said, nodding toward you. “She looks like she’s about to tear you a new one.”

Hotch sighed, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine.”

“Will she?” Rossi asked, his tone pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole act the two of you have going is starting to wear thin.”

“What act?” Hotch asked, though he already knew the answer.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “The one where you two pretend you don’t have feelings for each other. It’s getting old, Hotch. And frankly, it’s not doing anyone any good.”

Rossi crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Hotch. “You put yourself in the line of fire for her, Aaron. We all would have done it, but you didn’t think twice. That’s not just leadership. That’s something else.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering briefly to you before he looked back at them. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Rossi said, his voice gentler now. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. You’re not protecting her by pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re just making it harder—for both of you.”

Hotch didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor of the ambulance. The paramedic finished the stitches and stepped back, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of Rossi and Morgan’s words.

When he finally looked up again, you were still pacing, your anger radiating off you in waves. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Rossi was right.

The atmosphere back at the BAU was tense, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of the recent case. Hotch moved through the bullpen with his usual efficiency, though the stiffness in his shoulder and the dull ache radiating from the stitches served as a constant reminder of how the day had started.

You were another reminder.

Since the moment he got out of that ambulance and was cleared to finish the case, you’d been snapping at him—sharp comments about his paperwork, curt responses to his questions, even a pointed remark about his “reckless heroics” during the case. It was all thinly veiled anger, but it wasn’t lost on anyone. Rossi shot him a knowing glance as he passed; Morgan smirked but wisely stayed out of it, and even JJ looked like she was holding back a comment. He’s pretty sure he even heard a scoffing laugh out of Emily at one of your brattier comments. 

“Hotch,” you said sharply, interrupting his conversation with Reid about a case update. “If you want those reports done before midnight, you might want to clarify what you actually need. Or is guessing part of the job now?”

Reid froze mid-sentence, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The tension in the room was palpable, and Hotch’s patience, already worn thin by the soreness in his shoulder and the mental fatigue of the case, snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but controlled. “My office. Now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he reached for your elbow and guided you firmly toward his office. The rest of the team watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as you allowed yourself to be led, though the fury in your eyes was unmistakable.

Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door behind you, the sound louder than it needed to be. He released your arm, his hand lingering for only a second before he stepped back, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “You just dragged me in here like I’m fucking child.”

“You’ve been snapping at me all day,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “What do you expect me to do? Let you keep undermining me in front of the team?”

“Oh, so now I’m undermining you?” you said, your voice rising. “God forbid anyone have a reaction to you throwing yourself in front of a bullet.”

“I did what I had to do,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s my job to protect the team.”

“You’re not invincible, Aaron!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly on his name. “You can’t just—do that, and then act like everything’s fine. Like we’re all fine.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration in check. He was tired. Tired from the case. Tired from the injury. Tired of the running.

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let you get hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what about you getting hurt?” you fired back. “Do you think any of us would be okay with that? Do you think I would?”

Hotch froze, the intensity in your voice cutting through his fatigue and frustration. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The raw emotion in your eyes, the way your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to keep yourself composed—it was almost too much.

“This isn’t about the case, is it?” he asked, his voice softer now, though there was an edge of steel to it. “You’re not just angry about what happened.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you turned away, your arms tightening around yourself as if to create some kind of barrier.

Hotch took a step closer, his tone steady but tinged with something softer, something almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

You turned back to him, your eyes blazing with anger, but beneath it, he could see something else—fear, worry, hurt. “Why should I? We never talk about anything. Not really.”

The words hit him like a blow, the truth in them undeniable. And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.

Hotch stood still, every muscle in his body taut as he let your words settle in the air. The frustration and fire in your voice cut through him, but it was the vulnerability underneath that made him pause. He had always prided himself on reading people, on staying composed no matter the situation, but you had a way of stripping him bare, of making him feel exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “Every time you step in front of danger, every time you put yourself in harm’s way for me—it eats at me. And then you have the nerve to act like it’s just another day at the office, like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t act like it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through your words. “But we can’t afford for it to mean what you think it does.”

“And why is that?” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Because it might make you feel something real? Because it might mean admitting that this—whatever this is—actually matters?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t understand, but the truth was, you understood better than anyone. “Because if something happens to you,” he said finally, his voice low but cracking at the edges, “it would destroy me.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “And you think it’s any different for me? You think watching you throw yourself in front of a bullet didn’t tear me apart? God, Aaron, don’t you get it? You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair, his composure fraying with every word you spoke. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded. “From being hurt? From feeling? Because if that’s your plan, it’s not working. I’m already hurt. I’ve been hurt for years because we refuse to deal with this.”

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked, spinning back to face you, his voice rising. “That we can just talk about it and everything will magically be fine?”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t fine either. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away—it just makes it worse.”

The room was suffocating now, the air thick with all the words neither of you had said for years. Hotch’s mind raced, every argument, every excuse colliding with the raw truth you had thrown at him.

“This job…” he started, but his voice faltered. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “This job demands everything. It doesn’t leave room for mistakes, for weakness.”

“And you think this is weakness?” you asked, your voice trembling now, the anger giving way to something quieter but no less intense. “Do you really think what we feel—what we’ve built—is a liability?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words pressed down on him. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to do this, how to balance it. I don’t know how to protect you and still let myself have you.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“You can’t have it both ways, Aaron,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep me close enough to feel everything and then pretend it doesn’t exist when it gets too hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his admission. “I know I can’t. But I don’t know how to do this without risking everything.”

“Neither do I,” you said, taking a step closer, your voice trembling. “But the risk of losing this, of losing us—aren’t we worth figuring it out?”

Hotch closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking as your words sank in. He couldn’t argue with you, not when everything you said mirrored the storm that had been raging inside him for years. He opened his eyes and looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he let himself feel the full weight of what you meant to him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and electric, the air in the room thick with everything you’d both left unsaid for far too long. Hotch’s gaze flickered to yours, searching for something he couldn’t name but desperately needed. His own words had fallen short, his admission incomplete, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

But then you spoke, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

“I can’t keep doing this, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling but strong, each word deliberate and cutting through the fog of tension. “I can’t keep being someone you make love to, someone you fuck when it gets to be too much. Someone you play house with when we’re with Jack. You can’t look me in the eyes and expect me to pretend I’m not already part of your family.”

He flinched, the raw honesty in your voice slicing through the walls he’d spent years building. “You are part of my family,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“Then why do we keep acting like I’m not?” you fired back, your tone sharper now, anger laced with pain. “Why do you let me stay, let me take care of Jack, let me sleep in your bed—let me love you—but we act like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his chest tightening as your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done.

“You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Aaron,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “And you expect me to believe you’d do that for anyone else? That I’m just another member of the team? I’m not stupid. I know what this is—what we are. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side, but he didn’t reach for you. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you, every time I hear Jack ask about you when you’re not there? You think I don’t know how much it means to me that you’re part of my life?”

“Then we have to stop running from it!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as your arms fell to your sides. “Stop pretending it’s safer to ignore it, because it’s not. It’s killing me, Aaron. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. And it’s killing me to keep living like this, to keep pretending we don’t already know the truth.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, leaving him breathless. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the armor he’d spent years perfecting had finally crumbled to dust. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the storm inside him.

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, though your eyes never left his. “I need you to decide,” you said softly, but the steel in your voice was unmistakable. “Because I can’t keep doing this—loving you like this—if you’re not willing to let yourself love me back.”

Hotch’s throat felt tight, the weight of your ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical force. But as he looked at you, at the pain and determination in your eyes, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I’ve been running. I’ve been terrified. But I can’t lose you—not like this. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you finally giving way to something else. Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and unpolished, but no less true. “I don’t know how to do this, but I want to try. With you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. “Then stop pretending I’m anything less than yours.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady now. “Not anymore.”

The air between you shifted, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting as you stepped into him, your arms wrapping around him as his enveloped you. It wasn’t a resolution, not entirely, but it was a beginning. A chance to stop running, to stop pretending, and to finally face the truth you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

The embrace lingered, grounding them both in a moment of quiet resolution. Hotch could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away as his arms tightened around you. For once, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid words or guarded emotions. It was calm. Real.

But the calm couldn’t last forever.

As you stepped back slightly, your hands still resting on his chest, Hotch caught the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. It was subtle, but he recognized it immediately—the way your mouth twitched just before you said something that would almost certainly drive him up a wall.

“You know we just gave the entire team front-row seats to our meltdown, right?” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “They’re probably out there placing bets on how long it’ll take us to come out of this office.”

Hotch sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I’d imagine Rossi’s leading the pool.”

“Of course he is,” you replied, stepping back fully now, though the warmth in your voice remained. “He’s been waiting for this for years. Probably thinks he’s some kind of love oracle.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll have to face them eventually,” he admitted, his tone resigned but not without a trace of humor. “It’s not like they’ll forget about it by morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. “Oh, they won’t. They’ve been watching us like hawks for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan starts calling us ‘Mom and Dad’ the second we walk out of here.”

Hotch froze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘Mom and Dad’?”

Your grin widened, and you shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t know? The team’s been referring to us as Mom and Dad behind our backs for ages.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly as he tried to process your words. “They… what?”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said, your tone teasing now. “You’ve seen how they act around us. Morgan and Reid bicker like siblings, and JJ’s always trying to keep the peace. They’ve practically assigned us roles in their little BAU family.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement. “Because it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, you are kind of a dad to everyone, and I—” You stopped abruptly, the teasing edge in your voice faltering for just a moment before you continued. “Well, I guess I’m just always around.”

Hotch looked at you then, his gaze softening. “You’re not just always around,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team. You’re part of my life. And, apparently, the team’s ‘mom,’ whether we like it or not.”

The warmth in his voice made you smile, and for a moment, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. “Well,” you said, pushing off the desk and straightening your posture, “if we’re going to face them, we might as well lean into it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it?”

“Sure,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Let them think they’ve been right all along. It’ll make their day.”

He sighed again, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, moving toward the door. “But it’s not every day we give them this much to gossip about. Might as well embrace it.”

As you reached for the door handle, you turned back to him, your expression softening slightly. “You ready?”

Hotch straightened, his shoulders squaring as he stepped forward. “Not even a little.”

Your laugh was soft but genuine, and as you opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Whatever was waiting for the two of you on the other side, you’d face it together. And that, at least, was something he could hold onto.

The weeks that followed were, on the surface, remarkably unchanged. You and Hotch still worked side by side at the BAU, the same unspoken rhythm of partnership guiding your every move. Your routines remained intact—late nights at his apartment, dinners with Jack, quiet moments stolen away from the chaos of your jobs. But now, there was something new woven into the fabric of it all. Something quiet and steady: the acknowledgement of what you were to each other.

It started small. He would brush his fingers against yours when no one was looking, or you’d linger in his office just a little longer than necessary, your smiles softer, your words laced with warmth. And the words “I love you” slipped into your conversations as naturally as if they’d always been there.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both returned to his apartment, the comforting routine of shedding your workday as familiar as ever. Jack was already in bed, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light as you both settled in.

Hotch disappeared into his home office for a moment, returning with a folder in his hand. He handed it to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, raising an eyebrow as you opened it. “What’s this?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“Employee relationship disclosure paperwork,” he said simply, his tone neutral but his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as a slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Employee relationship paperwork?” you echoed, setting the folder on the coffee table. “What exactly are we calling this, Aaron?”

Hotch paused, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you looked at him with mock seriousness. “I mean, if we’re filling out forms, that means we’re officially labeling this, right? So, what are we? Is this… a relationship?”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though the question confused him. “Of course it’s a relationship,” he said, his voice steady. “It has been for a long time.”

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, we’ve been playing house without acknowledging anything for years. So what’s the label, Hotchner? Are we ‘dating’? Am I your ‘girlfriend’?” You said the words with a playful lilt, but there was a genuine curiosity beneath your teasing tone.

Hotch hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered your question. “I don’t think ‘girlfriend’ really fits,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “It feels… juvenile.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Juvenile? Aaron, you sound like you’re 100 years old. What would you prefer? ‘Lady friend’? ‘Companion’?”

He shot you a pointed look, though the warmth in his eyes undercut his irritation. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, still smiling. “If ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t fit, what does? You could’ve at least asked me to go steady or something.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, and Hotch shook his head as he sat beside you on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re old-fashioned,” you shot back, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But seriously, what is this? What are we calling it?”

Hotch turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “We don’t need a label,” he said after a moment. “But if you want one… yes, you’re my girlfriend. My partner. Whatever word you want to use.”

Your smile widened, your teasing demeanor giving way to something warmer. “Your girlfriend, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You make me say a lot of things I never thought I’d say.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I like the sound of it,” you said softly. “But you know, if this is going to be official, you’re going to have to deal with the team making fun of us.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

Hotch felt the faintest tug of a smile on his lips as your fingers threaded through his. The warmth of your touch steadied him in a way few things ever could. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with that quiet intensity he so often wore, but this time there was a softness beneath it.

“You’re going to have to deal with it too,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “You think Morgan’s not going to have a field day the second he hears about this?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch and letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Morgan’s going to call me ‘Mom’ for the rest of my career,” you said with a grin. “And don’t even get me started on Rossi. He’s probably already planning the toast for our wedding.”

Hotch groaned softly, though there was no real frustration in the sound. “Rossi thinks he knows everything,” he muttered.

“Well,” you teased, “he was right about this.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting down to your intertwined hands. He knew the rest of the team would have plenty to say, but for once, he didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied such thoughts. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, a sense of inevitability that, despite his usual resistance to change, felt strangely comforting.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud.”

“Said what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” you said, the word tumbling out casually, but the way your lips curled into a playful smile told him you were testing it, savoring the way it sounded.

Hotch blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Your boyfriend,” he repeated, the word feeling foreign but oddly fitting on his tongue.

“Yes,” you said, your tone mockingly serious now. “You know, boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Lover—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, though the faintest hint of color crept into his cheeks as he shook his head. “I get it.”

You grinned up at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. “I think it suits you.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, though there was no heat in his words.

“Ridiculously lucky,” you corrected with a smirk.

Hotch sighed, though his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something unspoken that now didn’t need to be.

He leaned back against the couch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Maybe I do.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of this already, boyfriend,” you said, your grin widening.

He shook his head, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you replied, settling into his side. “That’s half the fun.”

Hotch’s lips twitched as he let your words settle, your playful tone doing little to mask the deeper warmth behind them. He tilted his head, watching the way you fit so effortlessly into his side, your teasing smile lighting up a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

“‘Boyfriend,’” he repeated softly, tasting the word again like it was foreign but not unwelcome. “I think I still prefer something more… permanent.”

You lifted your head slightly, your brow arching in curiosity. “Oh?” you asked, your tone laced with amusement. “What would that be? Partner? Spouse? Or—” You grinned, the mischief returning to your expression. “Are you saying you’re more interested in ‘husband’?”

Hotch didn’t flinch, though the faintest flicker of color touched his cheeks. He met your gaze, his expression steady, though his lips quirked in a faint smirk. “If we’re being honest,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, “that does sound like it fits better.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, your mock surprise more playful than genuine. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just casually suggest skipping the whole dating phase and jumping right into wedded bliss?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch with an air of calm that was entirely deliberate. “Considering we’ve been acting like we’re married for years already, it doesn’t seem like that big of a leap.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine as you swatted his chest lightly. “You are ridiculous. You’re not even my fiancé, and you’re already talking about being my husband.”

“Like I said,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, “I prefer more permanent labels.”

Your grin softened, your eyes searching his as the teasing edge in your tone gave way to something quieter, more reflective. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, the question almost tentative.

Hotch nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t take things lightly,” he said simply. “Not with you. I never have.”

For a moment, the air between you was heavy again, but not with tension. It was filled with the weight of everything you’d both been building for years, every unspoken truth and every quiet moment of connection that had brought you here.

You smiled, leaning into him again, your voice soft but teasing as you murmured, “Well, if that’s the case, boyfriend, you’re going to have to start calling me ‘your wife’ in front of the team.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “One step at a time,” he said, though the warmth in his tone left little doubt about where his mind had already wandered.

Life fell back into its natural rhythm after you and Hotch filed the paperwork. The team made their comments, as expected—Morgan’s teasing was relentless, and Rossi’s smug satisfaction was borderline insufferable. But beyond the ribbing, nothing really changed in the day-to-day. You and Hotch continued your routines, slipping seamlessly between work and home as if the acknowledgment of your relationship had always been there.

Except now, there was an ease to it. A clarity.

The shift became apparent not in how you treated each other, but in how the rest of the world seemed to see you. It started small—another parent at Jack’s school, someone Hotch didn’t recognize but who greeted you both warmly at pickup one afternoon.

“Oh, you must be Jack’s mom,” she said, smiling at you before turning to Hotch. “He’s such a sweet boy. It’s clear he gets it from you two.”

You both had opened his mouth to correct her out of habit, but then he stopped you. What was the point? It felt right. Natural. So he’d smiled politely and said, “Thank you.”

Later, as you walked back to the car with Jack skipping ahead, you nudged him lightly. “Jack’s mom, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t correct her either,” he countered, his lips twitching with amusement.

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Didn’t feel like I needed to.”

It was one of those rare sunny Saturday mornings when Hotch found himself not at the office but at the local community park with you and Jack. The three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm—Jack running ahead to the swings while you and Hotch strolled behind, coffee cups in hand.

As usual, you and Jack had dragged him into this outing, insisting he needed a break. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but watching Jack’s laughter echo through the park and seeing the soft smile on your face made him realize how much he needed mornings like this.

While Jack climbed the jungle gym, you leaned against the railing near the benches, brushing a stray hair from your face as the breeze picked up. Hotch stood beside you, close enough that your arm brushed his when you reached for your coffee.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Aaron Hotchner, is that you?”

Hotch turned to see a woman he vaguely recognized approaching, her face lighting up as she drew closer. It took him a moment to place her—one of Haley’s old acquaintances from a distant social circle.

“It is you,” she said warmly, stopping in front of you both. “Wow, it’s been years. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Hotch said politely, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Claire.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curiosity plain on her face. “And this must be…?”

“My wife,” Hotch said without hesitation, the words slipping out so naturally that he didn’t even think to correct himself.

You blinked, your lips twitching with amusement as you extended a hand to her. “Hi,” you said, your tone friendly but neutral. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Claire’s smile widened as she shook your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you too. And Jack! Oh, he’s grown so much,” she added, waving at him as he climbed the monkey bars.

Hotch nodded, his gaze following Jack for a moment before settling back on Claire. They exchanged a few pleasantries—updates about mutual acquaintances and polite questions about work—before she finally excused herself, leaving you and Hotch alone again.

“You told a lie,” you said after a moment, your tone casual but laced with quiet amusement.

Hotch turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “About?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a faint smirk. “About me being your wife.”

He paused, the realization settling over him, and then shrugged, his expression unbothered. “Didn’t feel like I needed to call you anything different.”

“Really?” you asked, your smile widening. “Is this what we’re calling it now?”

Hotch glanced at you, his dark eyes steady but soft. “It’s what it feels like,” he said simply. “It’s what we are.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, you said nothing, your gaze searching his. Then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I guess I should get used to it, huh?”

“You’re not opposed, are you?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee before looking up at him with a grin. “But if you keep calling me your wife in public, you’re going to have to follow through at some point.”

Hotch chuckled quietly, his lips twitching with a faint smile. “Noted.”

Jack’s shout from the swings broke the moment, and you both turned to watch him wave enthusiastically for your attention. Hotch gave a small wave back, his hand brushing against yours as he lowered it.

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the simplicity of the morning, but the weight of what had been said lingered in the air. Neither of you felt the need to correct it. After all, it was the truth—whether there was paperwork to prove it or not.

The next instance came at work, during a meeting with another department. A young agent had introduced herself and, glancing between you and Hotch, asked, “So, you and your wife—do you find it hard balancing work and home life at the BAU?”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. But he also didn’t hesitate. “It’s a challenge,” he said smoothly, his tone professional but warm. “But we make it work.”

After the meeting, you leaned against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as you smirked at him. “Wife, huh?”

“Again, would you prefer I said ‘girlfriend’?” he asked dryly, hating the juvenile label, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head thoughtfully. “But you do realize you’ve been calling me that a lot lately.”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Feels accurate.”

Your smile softened, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “Feels accurate to me too.”

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the bullpen that the team finally confronted you both. Emily leaned against Morgan’s desk, her arms crossed as she watched you and Hotch exit his office together. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you exchanged a look and parted ways—Hotch heading toward the coffee station and you to speak with JJ.

“Alright,” Emily said, her tone laced with curiosity as she approached Hotch. “Are you and Y/N married? And don’t try to brush this off—I’ve heard you call her your wife at least three times this week.”

Hotch turned, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, we’re not married,” he said, his tone even.

Emily’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Then why do you call her your wife?”

He hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Because it feels more honest than calling her my girlfriend. That doesn’t seem to cover what we are.”

Emily blinked, clearly taken aback by the straightforwardness of his response. “Okay, fair point,” she said slowly. “But what’s stopping you from actually getting married?”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. What was stopping them? He knew it wasn’t fear or hesitation—it hadn’t been for a long time. And the thought of marrying you didn’t fill him with apprehension; it filled him with the same sense of certainty he felt when he called you his wife without a second thought.

“I—” he started, but before he could finish, you appeared at his side, holding a file.

“What’s this about?” you asked, glancing between them.

Emily grinned, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Just asking your husband here why you two aren’t actually married yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before turning to Hotch. “Well?” you asked, your voice teasing but your expression curious.

Hotch met your gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around him. “That’s a good question,” he said, his voice steady. “What do you think?”

Your smile widened, your eyes softening as you leaned just slightly closer. “I don’t think either of us have a good reason not to,” you said, your tone light but meaningful.

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Well, when it happens, let us know. Rossi’s already planning your wedding toast.”

As Emily walked away, you and Hotch exchanged a glance, your smiles matching. And for the first time, the idea of making it official didn’t feel like a question of if, but when.

The idea had been with him for weeks, lingering in the back of his mind as he watched you move through your life together. It wasn’t a sudden realization or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet, steady, and inevitable, much like the way you’d become the most important person in his life. He didn’t need to overthink it because he already knew the answer. You were his partner in every way that mattered, and it was time to make that official.

But Hotch being Hotch, he planned every detail. Not something grand or ostentatious—that wasn’t either of you. Instead, he wanted it to be personal, grounded in the quiet, meaningful moments that had always defined your relationship.

It was a Friday evening, the end of a particularly grueling week at the BAU. You and Hotch had fallen into your routine, picking up Jack from soccer practice and grabbing takeout on the way home. The three of you sat around the dining table, laughing as Jack recounted a story about his coach’s dramatic attempt to demonstrate a bicycle kick. Hotch caught your eye during the meal, the warmth in your gaze settling something deep within him.

After Jack went to bed, you lingered in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Hotch joined you, sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“You look tired,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

He smiled faintly, his hand covering yours. “Long week.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” you replied, your lips curving into a small grin. “But at least we survived it.”

“We always do,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a weight to his words that caught your attention.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind, Aaron?”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing on him. But then he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate but calm, and pulled out a small box. Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter, your hand still resting on his knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About us. About what we’ve built together. It’s not just a routine or a habit. It’s a life. And it’s a life I want to share with you—not just in words or assumptions, but in every way that matters.”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect, understated in the way he knew you’d appreciate.

“I’ve called you my wife more times than I can count,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are to me. It’s what you’ve been for a long time. And now, I want to make it real.”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aaron Hotchner let every wall fall away. “Will you marry me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was full of the gravity of the moment, the quiet weight of a decision that neither of you had to think twice about.

Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes soft as they brimmed with unshed tears. “Of course I will,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “Yes, Aaron. Yes.”

Relief and joy washed over him, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his own arms circling your waist.

It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It was simple, quiet, and utterly perfect. Just like the life you’d built together.

Aaron Hotchner had never been a man who dreamed of grand gestures. His life had taught him the value of simplicity, of finding solace in the quiet moments that others often overlooked. And as he sat with you on the couch that night, your hand resting in his, the weight of the ring now on your finger, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted. No fanfare, no spectacle—just you, him, and the life you’d built together.

The days that followed felt much the same, yet somehow entirely different. There was a new ease between you, a sense of certainty that replaced the unspoken tension that had once lingered. At work, the teasing from the team was relentless but good-natured. 

But it was at home, in the moments away from the chaos of the BAU, that the shift was most palpable. You’d catch Hotch watching you with a quiet intensity as you helped Jack with his homework or laughed over a shared joke at dinner. And when you teased him about it, his response was always the same—a faint smile and a simple, heartfelt, “I’m just happy.”

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch together, Jack asleep in his room, you glanced down at the ring on your finger and then back up at him. “So, husband,” you said, the word rolling off your tongue with a mix of playfulness and warmth, “how long do you think it’ll take before Rossi starts making bets on when the wedding will be?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “If he hasn’t already, I’d be surprised.”

You grinned, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? How all of this just… fell into place?”

He turned slightly, his arm wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It didn’t just fall into place,” he said quietly. “We built it—one step at a time. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Not even the part where the team found out and started calling us ‘Mom and Dad’?”

He smirked, his hand trailing absently along your arm. “Not even that.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet, the glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. It was a life neither of you had expected, but one you’d fought for in your own way. And as Hotch held you close, the future felt less like an unknown and more like a promise—a life you’d continue to build together, one quiet, meaningful moment at a time.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[confused-wanderer]

No because I can’t be the only one who thinks that the other batkids mess with Damian’s non-existent knowledge of jokes and references. Each of the batkids already has their own niche of bad jokes they love saying. And Damian is just adding fuel to the fire by being an unsuspecting victim:

Dick: Knock knock

Damian *who’s seen Superman and Jon do this all the time* : .. who’s there?

Dick: Nobody

Damian: …nobody.. who?

Dick:

Damian: ?

Dick *keeping a poker face*

Damian: Grayson.. nobody who?

Dick *shaking with silent laughter before walking out of the room*

Damian: .. Grayson has lost what little brain cells he had left. Shame, it was the most anyone had in the family.

Alfred: Master Damian.. it is you who didn’t understand.

Damian: .. what?

Alfred *raises an eyebrow*

Damian:

Damian *realisation dawns*

Damian *marching out of the room while unsheathing his katana*

Alfred: Keep away from the carpet Master Damian.

OR

Jason: You know.. you always see flamingoes sleep with one leg lifted off the ground..why do you think that is?

Damian: .. you pose a good question for once Todd. I suppose it could be a form of protecting body heat.. what is the reason for this?

Jason *wheezing*: It’s ‘cause if they had both legs up they would’ve fallen over.

*doubles over laughing at his own joke*

Damian:

Jason *now fallen over, rolling on the ground*

Damian: This is why Father doesn’t love you.

It has also led to an unintended common ground between him and Tim, who are both just so done with the rest of the family. Stephanie is just waiting for the day Damian realises that Tim references vines almost everyday. She’s sure Tim’s going to lose a kidney when that happens.

Bonus points if Tim already does, but Damian just looks at him weird every time and just chalks it upto another “Tim thing” like:

Tim: .. it is Wednesday my dudes.. *screams*

Damian: … Drake it’s Friday. The only thing you succeed at is disappointing me.

OR

Tim: Do it for the vine.

*jumps into blazing fire with a bomb hidden somewhere in the building about to collapse without informing anyone or taking proper equipment to find said bomb*

Damian: Father told me I must not hate you, but if you were on fire, and I had a glass of water.. I would drink it.

And

Tim *driving while in a high-speed chase with a villain about to summon the end of the world while the car is on fire*: Road work ahead? Uh yeah, I sure hope it does

Damian *over the comms* : Father I fear Drake has more brain damage than he usually does. I have genuine concern for my safety. If I kill him, you should know it’s in self-defence.

————-////

Edit: The first joke is a knock knock joke but when Dick says nobody it means nobody is at the door, so no matter how much you say “nobody who?” you won’t get a reply because there’s no one at the door. Hope this clears it up😅

[cherrygirlfriend]

drew starkey's lowkey/secret relationship with author!reader

when drew was casted in the movie adaptation of one of your novels, he looked you up, first on google and then on instagram.

when he saw your page, he messaged you asking for your insight into the character he was going to be playing; in reality, he just wanted an excuse to talk to you. the two of you messaged each other for a bit, but mostly just stuff related to the character he was going to be playing.

when they started filming, you'd occasionally visit on set and have casual conversations with drew and the rest of the cast but nothing that significant; you thought that drew was attractive and vice versa but you were in a relationship so just kept it friendly.

a while after the filming for the movie adaptation had wrapped, your friends dragged you to a party, to 'get back out there' after your breakup. when your body bumped into a man's solid chest, the last person you expected for it to belong to was drew.

after that mishap (that ended with drew's drink spilled all over his shirt) you two spent pretty much the entire night huddled in a corner, talking about books, movies, and generally getting to know one another.

that night you ended up going home with him; but the morning after you got really freaked out because hooking up with people randomly wasn't really your thing; you made a hasty exit out of his place, but later that day he ended up calling you, and after nearly thirty seconds of considering just declining, you finally answered.

you ended up talking it out with him, and because you seemed to get along, you agreed to 'hang out' with him when both of you had time, and what was supposed to be 'just coffee' turned into you two in his bed.

afterward, you talked, and decided on a friends-with-benefits kind of situation, due to your recent break up and the fact that drew's work had him traveling constantly.

months went by, and you didn't even notice how casually hooking up and hanging out whenever he was in town to you two constantly texting one another, facetiming when he was away, and basically spending any time possible together.

all of your (and his) friends noticed it, and though they tried to tell you two to 'just be together', you both were stubborn, and insisted that there were no feelings there, just friendship and casually hooking up.

at midnight on a random wednesday, when drew was away filming, your doorbell rang. and when you went to open it, it was him. drew just let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around you.

and for you both, it felt like home.

BONUS:

yourname

Liked by drewstarkey and others yourname: happy birthday to the cheugiest guy i know! one year closer to the retirement home baby 🥰🎂 thanks for making the best morning (and midnight writing session) coffee. Comments are off. 4 November

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (8)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : I had to cut some scenes, explained in the notes below, to be saved for a bonus chap or drabble. Also, I altered the outline, and this story isn't ending with 9 as originally intended. Happy Chem Ov release day! Enjoy 🖤

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader is left confused by Ewan's online stunt. If he really is content with keeping things casual, then why is he acting otherwise? Tensions reach their peak and Ewan is forced to face the consequences of the arrangement.

Day or night, Ewan will answer your call. 

Even when you seem overly irate at him, greeting him with, “Ewan, what the fuck was that picture?”

He exhales haughtily, your tone almost bringing him some twisted sense of pleasure. Like a ‘this is what you get’ type of reaction. Was he 7 or 27? He’s been labeled sensitive before, but right now, he can’t muster the energy to care.

“Hello to you too, darling,” he says, smoke billowing out of his lips as he lounges on his apartment balcony in London. He had convinced himself that his worries about you and Matt vanished the moment he reaffirmed you as his to the world. In this day and age, in your profession, that can easily be accomplished by something called a hard launch. The first image he posted was supposed to do just that, but the internet has a fickle memory. 

Several months had passed with nothing concrete circulating about you and Ewan, leading fans to readily accept the possibility that you were now dating Matt, prompted by the recent Deuxmoi feature. Granted, Ewan was spotted sneaking out of your building once, but what does that really prove?

Unfortunately, some others spun the story beyond recognition, protected by the anonymity afforded by their black mirrors. Aided with nothing but conjecture, they took it upon themselves to accuse you of infidelity. 

All in all, it had been an eventful 24 hours. His impulsive act of possessiveness quickly turned into a mutable gossip headline.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you reply immediately. “Why would you post that? I didn’t even know you took it in the first place.”

“I was doing you a favour. Don’t you see? People are under the impression that we’re still together.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Darling, you know it matters. It’s not a good look that you were spotted with someone else, you know what people are like,” he said. 

“Oh, thank you so much for saving me from public ridicule, Ewan,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Since when do you care about what people say? You stay offline for this exact reason.”

“I know some mean things were being said about you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you insist, but you no longer sound sure.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he says. “If that picture remains, then it’s basically a ‘fuck you’ to all the people who accuse you cheating on me.”

“How can I cheat on you, Ewan? We’re not together.”

He bristles at that statement, the truth that sits unpleasant in the back of his mind. It hurts that you’re right. “You know what I mean,” he musters. 

He hears nothing for a while, save for some shuffling in the background. Are you screaming your frustrations into your pillow? Is your fist raised at the skies, cursing his name? Tell him you hate him, and he will crumble. The three words will come out of him unrestrained. I love you, followed by, please don’t leave me. 

But they already have spilled out of him, lost among his tearful pleas in the car. That night in September, he crumbled and he lost you anyway. What good would it do now? What difference would it make?

You finally speak, and he hears the frustration in your voice, even as it softens, “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

He can’t help but chuckle, the sound low and easy, “Hey, baby, you’re the one who called me.”

But your next words wipe the smile right off his face. “Ewan… this isn’t going to be the last of it. Sooner or later, we’ll have to make it known that we’re not as in love as everyone thinks.”

He frowns, not accepting that you’re pressing on the topic. “Why?”

“Your memory must be so twisted, Ewan,” you sigh, and he can picture you shaking your head, “Don’t you have that ironclad PR arrangement for your new film?”

His chest tightens. Leave it to you to be the bearer of harsh truths. “That… That might not happen.”

“Might not? Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t quit, did you?”

“No, I didn’t quit,” he answers quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “But can we not talk about the film? It’s not what matters right now.”

“But it does, Ewan,” you insist, the concern in your voice gnawing at him, “you’ve got this important thing, and I… what if I want out? What if I want something real?”

“Something… real.” It's like a punch to his gut, nightmare fuel, and he scrambles for a response. “Like what?”

“I don’t know… I just – ”

“This isn’t real enough for you?” There is no hiding the vulnerability in his voice now. It wouldn’t even work if he tried. “I… I’m not…”

“Ewan.”

You refuse to answer his question, and he thinks it’s for the best. He responds with his usual, “Darling.”

“What are you going to do about that picture?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he finally decides. 

“What?”

“I’ll get rid of it.”

“Okay. Good.” He can hear the relief in your voice, but he’s not done yet. 

“But you can’t get rid of us,” he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. “I won’t let you.”

You groan, “Ewan… ”

His reply is curt, daring you to disagree, “Darling.”

He’s met with a long and uncomfortable silence, the air thick with everything left unsaid. He needs to break it. He needs a diversion. “Are you home?” he asks.

“Why?”

Even over the line, he can feel you pulling away, like your tether to him is loosening. He can’t let that happen again. “Are you still angry with me?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I come over and we can hash it out?” His voice drops into that rhythm, the one he knows you couldn’t resist. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe so,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips, “but I want you.”

He waits with bated breath, ready to run out the door at your word.

“I can’t believe you, Mitchell,” you sigh, your amusement at him bleeding through. It’s all he needs.

“See you soon, darling.”

All throughout the night, he doesn’t let you go. The moment he steps through your door, the tension from the call dissolves into something more primal, something neither of you can resist. Every touch feels like a desperate attempt to hold onto a love that might slip away, even if just for a moment.

Deep down, he knows, just as you do, that this can’t last. But as the night stretches on and he holds you close, he pushes that thought away, burying it in the recesses of his mind. 

This is enough, even for now. 

And so the song remains the same.

Clad in full costume, you tread the halls of the set, your posture noticeably straighter. Alyna’s attire has a way of transforming you, making each step purposeful, each glance sharp. The familiar weight of the prop weapons at your side makes you feel like a true fighter. 

The Watford studio is buzzing with energy as the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot unfolds, the set alive with activity. It is one of the actual sets used for the show, so you feel right at home - Alyna Rivers in her natural habitat. 

You weave through the crowd, careful to avoid Ewan, whose presence you can never shake off. You’ve never actually been together, in a big group setting such as this, since the beginning of the arrangement. The cast definitely knows something is going on, especially after Ewan’s last daring post on Instagram. Ewan hadn’t deleted the post – he simply deactivated his profile instead. You noticed it the next day when you tried to check, only to find his account gone.

The realisation left you conflicted. On one hand, it meant the picture wasn’t out there anymore. But on the other, it felt like a temporary fix, a way of avoiding the real issue rather than confronting it head-on. It was a pause, not an ending. The post still existed technically, suspended in some middle realm. 

Since the cast is not privy to the sordid details of your arrangement, you think it best to keep interactions with him at a minimum. It had been constantly nagging at you, the thought of being with him but not really. Are you even allowed to hold his hand in front of your friends? Won’t that be crossing the line, breaking the rules that he set when he promised that, you won’t be his and he won’t be yours?

Alyna would never, not in a hundred years, allow herself to be put in this position. Especially not by Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

Just as you start to relax, Matt materialises by your side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the fiercest bastard in the realm,” Matt says, looking every bit as Daemon with his Targaryen blacks and silver-blonde wig, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “Looking for your next conquest?”

“Careful, Matthew,” you shoot back, smirking. “Alyna’s got a list, and you’re edging pretty close to the top.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind, and as a top priority, nonetheless,” he teases, nudging you playfully. “But let’s be real, you’d miss me too much.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Miss your terrible jokes, maybe.”

“You love my humour,” he insists. “I’m just saying, when you get tired of shooting arrows and swinging swords, let me know. I would like to take you out into the real world.”

You raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating up. He caught you off guard, so thank the gods for the sheer boldness that Alyna wears like skin, rubbing off on you as you stand in her shoes. “Is Daemon asking Alyna on a date, Smithy?”

“Depends,” he quips, a sly grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Before you can respond, Tom saunters over, clearly not one to miss out on the fun. “What’s this I hear? Matt finally working up the nerve to ask his on-screen sidekick out? Either I’m going mad or my five espresso shots are working.”

“Watch it, you,” you warn him playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Alyna’s still got some arrows left. And I’m not his sidekick.”

Tom smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re all talk.”

“Want to test that theory?” you challenge, raising an imaginary bow. Matt lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if struck.

“See? Deadly,” Matt says, winking at you. “So, what do you say? Coffee, next week? Somewhere far from dragons and politicking?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad. As long as you promise not to reenact your last attempt at flirting.”

“Ouch,” Matt laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do my best.”

As the photographer calls for everyone to take their places, you catch a glimpse of Ewan watching from a distance, his jaw clenched. The amusement in Matt’s eyes tells you he’s noticed too.

“You’re playing with fire, you know,” you whisper to Matt as you walk toward the set.

He grins, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t called the Rogue Prince for no reason. Besides, I am the blood of the dragon.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, but you are unable to ignore the thrill of Ewan’s intense focus. 

The set buzzes with activity, cast members instructed to maintain their character’s demeanour for the photographs. The Greens go first, with their designated groupings, with Ewan and Gayle sharing a close-up shot. From where you stand behind the cameras, you can feel Ewan’s gaze locked on you, his presence heavy and distracting. After a while, you feel the need to step away, walking further to the side. 

He remains silent, his focus clearly split between you and Matt, who keeps up a steady stream of clever remarks that make you laugh. Each one seems to darken Ewan’s mood further. The tension becomes so palpable that the director finally calls out, “Ewan, can we get your attention over here, please? You’re off your mark.”

Liv and Phia, still awaiting their cues, scurry over to where you stand. Liv leans in with a knowing smirk on her face, whispering in your ear. “Trouble in paradise?” Of course they’ve noticed Ewan’s odd behaviour. 

“More like purgatory,” Phia quips, scrunching her nose.

“Something like that,” you murmur, eyes flicking over to Ewan, who’s now talking with Gayle and the director, looking over the shots taken, though his attention doesn’t stray far from you.

“Well, if you need an escape route, just say the word,” Liv offers, her voice full of concern.

“Do you want me to stare back at Ewan?” Matt cheekily offers, making you punch him on the shoulder. He only laughs openly, the sound free and uninhibited and just Matt. 

“Thanks, guys,” you say, grateful for their friendship. But you know there’s no easy way out of this tangled mess. Not with the way Ewan is watching you and Matt like he’s one step away from bringing The Battle Above The Gods Eye to fruition.

Not long after, it’s time for the Blacks to step onto the set. As you move into position, you can feel Ewan’s gaze practically searing into your back. You fight the urge to laugh. Or grimace. Or shoot him a questioning look. The idea of Ewan in his full Aemond costume brooding over you is something indeed. The fangirl in you would have been sent reeling, if only he wasn’t so fucking infuriating. 

You spot Liv, Tom, and Phia swooping in like a rescue squad with a mission to derail Ewan’s brooding. Phia, ever the animated theater kid, practically throws herself in front of Ewan, waving her hands like she’s recounting the world’s most thrilling tale.

“Ewan, did you catch that last shot of Helaena? Absolute perfection,” she says, grinning.

Tom saunters up, “Care to explain why you are standing here lurking like some stalker? You’re scaring the crew, mate.”

Phia gently nudges Ewan away from your line of sight. “Come on, Ewan. Let’s go for a smoke, it’s stuffy in here.”

Ewan’s clearly torn, but he’s powerless against his friends’ instigation. You bite back a laugh as you see him getting pulled in every direction. Your makeshift rescue team really needs to get their act together, but you love them anyway. The camera snaps away, and you focus on your poses. Knowing that Phia and the gang are running interference, you’re free to enjoy the moment and be Alyna as the photoshoot demands. You can save the enjoyment from watching him squirm later. 

The photoshoot wraps up in the evening and everyone begins to gather their things, preparing to leave. Cast members chat, stretch, and discuss plans for the week.

“So, coffee next week?” Matt asks again, this time with a bit more seriousness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll see what I have scheduled then I’ll give you a call.”

“Great. I’ll even let you pick the place. Well, I’ll be off, love, I’m meeting my sister.” he says. Then, as if sensing something, he leans in closer. “But I’d better give you something to remember me by.”

Before you can react, Matt pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you warmly. The embrace lingers just a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he plants a soft, teasing kiss on your cheek. You catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. What is he up to?

As Matt releases you and heads out of the studio, you spot Ewan coming toward you, his presence all too familiar. He doesn’t say anything at first, and just stands there, his silence more charged than anything he could have spoken. His expression is stoic, but with the way his lips are pursed and his nostrils are flared, you would say that he’s bothered. He’s jealous.

“You seemed to be having fun,” he finally says, his tone casual, though the tension is unmistakable.

“Mmm, maybe I was,” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “Is there a problem?”

Ewan’s eyes narrow slightly, but he shakes his head. “Not at all. Just… nevermind. I’m sure you know, we’ve been booked for a magazine feature coming up in a few days.”

You freeze. “Yeah, I heard. What about it?”

“I’m just making sure that you’re okay with it, darling.”

“It’s work, Ewan,” you reply tersely. “We’ll deal with it.”

The tension breaks when Fabien swoops in, his flawless smile in place. “So, you’re stealing Matt away from me now?” he teases, and there’s an edge to his question. He’s still on the fence about you and Ewan, as he feels protective of his friend. But he’s aware that there’s no simple right or wrong here. You both hurt each other; that much is clear. 

“Maybe,” you quip back, shrugging with feigned innocence. “He seems to like my company.”

Fabien laughs, though there’s a hint of something serious beneath it. “I’ll allow it – this time. But don’t forget, I’ve got dibs on him for the next round of drinks.”

As Fabien’s laughter fades, Ewan’s voice cuts through the lightheartedness. “I don’t think she needs your protection, Fabien.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, rolling your eyes. “I don’t need looking after, Ewan.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice dropping to something darker. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, even as you know it’s a dangerous game you’re all playing. The fire between you smoulders, waiting for the next spark to ignite it. Is Matt that spark? No, you realise, both your actions will be enough to bring everything crashing down.

For now, you step away, leaving Ewan to stew in his misguided jealousy. 

“See you around, Fabs,” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you for our shoot, yeah?” you tell Ewan, making it clear that you’re not up for another dalliance in between. 

He gets the hint, nodding tersely. But he doesn’t just let you go, not without making his mark, the thing he ached so badly to do in front of Matt, but couldn’t. 

He briefly casts a glance around the room to make sure no one else is hovering, then presses a soft against your lips, leaving you no time to protest. 

You’re exhausted. You’re frustrated. You shouldn’t give in to this, but you do. He feels right; he feels like home. 

If home is a Motel 6 along the highway, ready to kick you out at a moment’s notice. Isn’t that just a knife in the gut?

You pull away after a second, and he smiles, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

Fabien shakes his head, a feeling of warmth rising within him at the sight of his two friends who clearly belong together. If only they would get their heads out of their asses.

You seem to remember his presence, pushing away from Ewan’s hold.

Fabien can only roll his eyes. 

Only two days later, and you’re back to work once more. The British Vogue photoshoot has its focus on high fashion, set against the backdrop of an American West-inspired ranch. It doesn’t dwell on you and Ewan as celebrity figures, which is why you agreed to the shoot in the first place. 

Walking onto set, you’re struck with awe at the dramatic tableau of worn wooden fences, hay bales, and lasso props. But your amazement reaches its absolute peak when Ewan emerges, in full cowboy attire. 

Fuck. You bite your lip, and you can almost hear your heart pounding. Unbeknownst to you, the crew notices your flustered state, but they think it’s just you admiring your boyfriend as expected. 

He meets your eyes from across the room, then saunters over to you, that characteristic smirk set on his lips. Your breath catches in your throat, when he tips his hat and greets, “Howdy, darling.”

“Why, hello, good sir,” you try to match his tone, giving a playful curtsy. 

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, and you’re sure if he’s referring to the photoshoot or the possibility that the two of you might have to play at being a couple as these people expect. You opt to believe the former. 

As the shoot progresses, the tension between you and Ewan becomes almost unbearable. You’re clad in an elaborate, haute couture cowgirl outfit. A sculptural corset made of brown leather, with a tailored vest on top. A floor-length skirt with a high slit reaching your upper thigh, dyed to a rich gradient of burnt sienna. Knee-high heeled boots. A leather choker with a central silver pendant rests on your neck, dangling provocatively. 

For the first set of shots, both of you casually lean against the fence. Ewan poses beside you, watching you with an intensity that is both electrifying and maddening. His gaze is hungry, almost predatory, and you almost forget about the elaborate set around you. Thankfully, each blinding flash of the camera pulls you back into the real world. Keeping you from riding a cowboy right down on the hay bales. How does the saying go? Save a horse…

The photographer snaps you out of it, as he shouts a direction for you to pose solo with a lasso draped over your shoulder. Ewan steps out of the frame, leaning against a wooden post, his eyes locked on you as if he’s trying to memorise every detail of this look. 

“Alright, let’s try a more dramatic pose,” the photographer instructs. “Maybe something with a bit more attitude.”

You adjust your stance, twisting slightly to emphasise the curve of your waist. As you do, you momentarily meet Ewan’s gaze. His eyes are dark with something like desire, and his lips are set in a grim line. 

“I can’t even articulate what you’re doing to me, darling,” Ewan murmurs in your ear, when the photographer calls for a 5-minute break. Set assistants run onto the scene, adding and rearranging props for the next round of shots.

You smirk, “Speak for yourself, Mitchell.”

“Mmm,” he hums, satisfied. 

The next shot calls for Ewan to stand behind you, his arms wrapped around your figure, the position as intimate as can be. Each click of the camera seems to heighten the tension.

His breath is warm against your neck, the sheer proximity electrifying, causing your entire body to heat up underneath the layers of leather and cotton. His heartbeat matches yours, quick and erratic. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible over the camera clicks. “You’re making this incredibly difficult, you know.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Difficult how, exactly?”

“Keeping my hands off you is the hardest part of my day,” he replies, his voice husky with restrained desire. “It’s like you’re daring me to break every rule we’ve set.”

That you’ve set, you want to correct him, but you bite your tongue. A bitter chuckle escapes you, the sound a mix of frustration and amusement. “So what if I am,” you tease, bending back slightly into his embrace, feeling his body heat against yours. He welcomes your closeness, leaning into you. 

For the next few minutes, it’s a game of seduction and denial, every movement aimed at tormenting the other. The crew, blissfully unaware of the full extent of the tension, is generally pleased about the atmosphere of the shoot. In their minds, you and Ewan are simply leaning into your real-life chemistry and romance.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Little do they know.

In the brightly lit break room, the hum of distant chatter from the set fills the silence between you and Ewan. He’s seated across from you, his gaze unyielding as you check your phone.

His voice breaks the quiet, his tone deceptively casual but laced with curiosity. “Doing anything tomorrow?”

You look up, meeting his eyes, before tentatively answering. “Actually, yes.”

His brows lift, his curiosity piqued. “Care to elaborate, darling?”

You shift in your seat, trying to mask the tension in your voice. “I’m supposed to grab coffee with Matt.”

“Matt.” Ewan’s voice is low as he repeats the familiar name. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, his expression morphing from curiosity to something more intense. “Is it… is it a date?”

“I think that was implied,” you reply, your tone deliberately nonchalant as you try to maintain control of the conversation.

“Really.” His voice tightens, his response loaded with a mix of disbelief and frustration.

You notice the obvious shift in his demeanour, the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. “Why the long face?”

Ewan’s hands ball into fists on the table, his composure breaking. “Fuck, I—”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, your own frustration simmering. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”

“No, just…” His voice falters, his emotions raw. “I don’t want you to go.”

You blink, taken aback by his admission. “Are you being serious right now, Mitchell?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Ewan’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of hurt and possessiveness. A concoction borne out of circumstances of his own making. Or had it been you, last September? You can no longer keep track of whose fault reigns over everything. The truth of the matter is, you love him. Of course you do.

But nothing feels right anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you retort, your voice rising slightly, “I hope you are. Because you can’t just say that to me.”

“But I am.” His tone is resigned but unwavering. “I don’t want to watch you with someone else.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water, freezing you in place. “Then I’m ignoring what you just said. This isn’t fair to me.”

His face falls. “You can’t just ignore it. It’s not that simple.”

You stand up abruptly, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Well, I don’t see how this conversation is going to help anything.”

He stands as well, his expression pained and conflicted. “I just – damn it. Wait a minute, darling – ”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Look, if you’re going to act like this, then maybe we need to rethink – ”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice desperate. “I don’t want to rethink anything. I just… I need you to understand that this isn’t easy for me.”

The room falls silent, both of you breathing heavily. The unresolved problem lingers, the weight of it all hanging heavily between you. 

You take a final look at him, feeling a mixture of anger and longing. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk out of the break room, the doors closing sharply behind you. Ewan is left alone, frustration clear on his face as he stares at the empty space where you once stood.

Ewan is sprawled on his couch, a half-empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. The warm light of a lamp casts a muted glow over his apartment, which is littered with the remnants of his evening alone. He has seen the latest headlines about you and Matt, enjoying a date in Hyde Park.

Hyde Park Outing: Is it Love in the Air for these HBO Actors?

He tries to ignore them all, but the nagging bitterness won’t let him be. The images and headlines keep flashing in his mind. Unable to shake the frustration, he sends a quick message to Tom and Phia, inviting them over for a casual distraction.

A short while later, they arrive, carrying a six-pack and a box of takeout. Ewan greets them with a tired smile, which barely masks his despondence.

“Evening,” he says, opening the door wider to let them in. “Glad you could make it.”

Phia gives him a sympathetic look as she steps inside, setting down the food. “We came prepared. Looks like you could use a break.”

Tom follows, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. “And some beers. We figured you might need them.”

Ewan leads them to the living room, where they settle onto the couch. As they crack open the beers and start munching away, the initial wariness fades, replaced by casual conversation. His two guests are careful not to broach the topic of you, but they know it’s inevitable. Soon enough, it will be time to get down to business, which is essentially what they came for. They’re the rescue squad after all. 

“So… we have a feeling we know what’s been eating at you,” Tom says, taking a swig of his beer. “We saw the headlines, mate. Don’t even deny it. It’s gotta be rough.”

Ewan grimaces, his hand gripping the bottle a little tighter. “Yeah, the headlines. they’re , uhhhh … oh, what does it even matter?”

Phia raises an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Come on, kid. It matters. You can talk to us. We weren’t cast as siblings for no reason.”

Ewan lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “We have this thing, this casual thing. But seeing her with someone else... it’s like a punch to the gut.”

Tom nods sympathetically. “I get it. I’m sure it was fun at first, but – ” 

Phia’s concern wins over her, leading her to interject, “Ewan, maybe you need to bloody talk to her. Figure out where you both stand.”

Ewan shakes his head, though his expression softens, and his unmistakable vulnerability shines through. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to see where that leads.”

Phia reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Ask her why she ended things last year.”

“I know why – ”

“Just… ask her again? You might find out more than you expect.”

Tom waits a beat before butting in with a light-hearted chuckle, “It’s better than letting it fester. At least you’ll know where you stand. You owe her that much.”

Ewan huffs out a laugh, the bitterness in his voice giving way to reluctant amusement. “Maybe. I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“Mate,” Tom shakes his shoulder, “look at the state of things. How in the bloody hell can you make it even worse? I don’t think it’s possible.”

Phia just smirks at his boldness, but she agrees, nodding to Ewan, “He’s right, you know.”

Tom raises his beer in a mock toast. “To Aemond and Alyna.”

“Oh, you absolute rascal,” Phia laughs in disbelief. 

But they all clink their bottles together, the gesture a small comfort amidst the confusion. The evening winds down after an hour, and after they depart, Ewan’s mind is still consumed with thought.

Day or night, you will answer Ewan’s call.

“Hello?” your voice patches through after a few rings.

“Darling,” he says, “I think we need to talk.”

💌 next chapter

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Some notes in the margins...

I did have Matt and the reader's date written out, but I thought it seemed superfluous for this one. Maybe in a bonus chapter?

In the next one: 'THE talk', Ewan dealing with stuff for his film, whippets, interviews, MORE headlines... will they finally resolve everything?

Also, if yous want, I can give a glimpse on what would have happened if Matt got the BV shoot instead :)

The end isn't even within reach. More angst to follow. How can there be more, you ask? Let's hash it out below 😉💙

[yanderefarm]

yandere cultist but its omegaverse

cw; religion, cults, yandere themes, omegaverse

ill post the introduction for him later too. ive had this idea for a minute i thought it was fun. u always see yandere cult leaders wheres the yandere followers who act the way they do because they're following what they were told. wheres the yandere cultists who have been convinced that you're their chosen soulmate and will do anything to prove it to you.

also i got the dominant thing from a yaoi manhwa i dropped i don't remember what it was called but im sure this trope isn't original to the verse i just put my own spin on it

you're what's called a "dominant" alpha, it's not anything to do with your role in the bedroom and more the strength of your traits. rut inhibitors and scent blockers have no effect on you while you struggle with interest in typical omegas. but because of the rarity of the condition it wasn't often taught about in schools. trying to find a "dominant" omega on normal dating apps was practically impossible.

that's why you turned to more conservative dating apps. less likely to find people who thought dominant omegas meant strap ons and muzzles and more likely to find people who thought the term dominant omega was a sin. while you don't agree with them an omega is a whole lot easier to reason with.

thats how you met him. he was a beautiful boy with long blue hair and lovely floral dresses. all his pictures were either clearly church pictures or candid shots of him working on a farm. all you really needed to see was the marked off dominant omega trait at this point but him being a cutie was a bonus.

you checked to make sure he was what he said he was and then you two hit it off immediately. he was shy but he used the cutest emojis, lots of hearts and sparkles. you found yourself talking to him every second of every day, completely enamored by the sweetheart he was.

so when you asked if you could finally go on a date in person you were surprised to find your stark differences reared their head. you had to meet his dad before you could go on a date. sure. he's made it no secret that he's a sheltered religious boy. the comment he also added about ensuring his purity was intact was unneeded but you could get past it. he's a good person.

he's a good person who happens to live in the same Happy Homes compound you had just watched a video essay about. you were surprised... and horrified. still as creepy as the place was you were too attached to him at this point to just abandon him here. if he couldn't be convinced to leave that's one thing but you hadn't even tried yet.

his family was warm and welcoming, a few uncomfortable comments and his eldest brother wouldn't stop glaring at you but that's not unique to them. it was a relatively normal farm house surrounded by identical farm houses. what could go wrong?

you had dinner with them and they even invited you to church with them. you knew you weren't about to be convinced to join the cult so you agreed. his father let you borrow some nice clothes and you ended up taking your boyfriend, his mother, and one of his sisters in your car.

the sermon was. boring. nothing uniquely offensive that you wouldn't find in any conservative religious church. the surprising part came with the announcements. the pastor, a beta dressed in white ushered your boyfriend and 4 other omegas onto the stage.

he talked about a plan, a calling each of them had from god. they were each supposed to bring wayward alphas to the church to join them in the house of god. yeah, you could get the gist and before you could even try to stand up one of the other boyfriends did so. he was talking about how this was bullshit and he didn't buy into this crazy crap. and then he collapsed. you watched as 2 others joined him in either death or unconsciousness.

the pastor ushered you onto the stage and your boyfriend's brother dragged you up by the arms. your heart was pounding in your ears and the lights above were glaringly bright. you barely noticed when your boyfriend's arms wrapped around your own.

"and you too shall enter the happiest homes. may god bless you."

you felt your mind go numb and the next thing you knew you were on the floor.