#but it’s still a part of me that I cherish and try to maintain and I am so angry at Hoyoverse

[meimyr-dawn]

Haven’t really been engaging with that much Genshin stuff because I’m so bummed about natlan…..

Like it all sucks, but speaking about something I have personal connection to:

I want to like Mualani (the white-hair, shark girl)….her name is from on a real Hawaiian chieftess, it’s also very close to my IRL name (Meilani)….also I freaking love sharks.

I want to be excited at cultural representation. But as an (admittedly white passing) mixed-Hawaiian myself—I’m just sad—not even at my palest in the midst of winter am I that pale. It feels like a betrayal to reference different cultures but not earnestly portray the people within.

Anyway, no hate to anyone who does like her, but please keep an open heart for your POC genshin friends or content creators who are sad and angry.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Type of Boyfriends | Dream Headcanon #15

Headcanon: Type of Boyfriends

Genre: Fluff, a little angsty in some parts

Warnings: light mentions of anxiety and feeling insecure

Word Count: ~2.7k

Author's Note: I was actually planning on writing something for Haechan today. But I had the content for this headcanon pre-planned for quite some time now, so I just thought it would be good to actually write it. Also, I haven't been making a lot of group posts lately—so this is me making up for it lol. I know this idea isn't super original, but I wanted to make my version of it. I'm sorry if the scenarios are written badly, but I still thank you for reading ^ ^

~ ~ ~

mark

Mark is the type of boyfriend who feels like your best friend but with the added warmth of kisses and hugs. He loves taking you on spontaneous midnight drives, where carpool karaoke becomes your shared stage, belting out your favorite tunes together. Music is a big part of your relationship, with shared Spotify playlists that reflect your combined tastes and moments. Whenever you’re feeling down, he grabs his guitar and serenades you with Bruno Mars or Day6 songs, lifting your spirits with his husky yet gentle voice. He’s also the type of boyfriend who writes songs about you, with lyrics so touching they bring you to tears.

He’s the type of boyfriend who attempts to cook for you but ultimately results in a comedy of errors. But they always end in laughter as you step in to save the kitchen from further disaster. His cooking skills would likely improve over time, with your guidance. You’d patiently be teaching him the proper way to cut vegetables or how much seasoning should be put in a dish. But he’s the type of boyfriend to lose focus because he keeps getting distracted by how pretty you look. And then you’d blush profusely when you caught his gaze and scold him for not listening.

He’s the type of boyfriend to give you bone-crushing hugs whenever he finds something you did cute. He especially does this when you get annoyed at him for something, finding the furrow of your brows and pouty lips to be so adorable. He’s the type to go in for long kisses after being away from you for a long time. His career often keeps him away, leaving him longing for the moments he can be with you. He’s the type of boyfriend to give kisses that are so warm and tender, filled with a depth of emotion that speaks volumes about how much he cherishes you. Each kiss feels like a promise, a reassurance that no matter how far apart you are, his heart is always with you.

He’s the type of boyfriend who would geek out with you over shared interests, like Spiderman. Whether it's discussing the latest movie or comic book, these moments of shared enthusiasm bring you even closer. He’s the type of boyfriend who would watch k-dramas with you and enjoy ranting with you about the characters. These shared experiences, filled with laughter, debates, and discussions deepen your bond and create fond memories to look back on.

All in all, Mark is the type of boyfriend who is a unique blend of friendship, romance, and genuine affection that makes him the perfect partner, someone who brings joy, music, and a sense of adventure into your life.

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renjun

Renjun is the type of boyfriend to be motherly at times with how attentive and caring he is. He’s always looking after you in subtle ways, like telling you the weather beforehand so you know to wear a jacket before your date. When you share your insecurities with him, he responds by creating beautiful paintings or drawings of you, turning your worries into art. He's also the type to blush when you compliment him but cleverly turns the praise back on you, making you feel just as flustered.

He’s the type of boyfriend who loves planning and sharing things with you, like maintaining a shared Pinterest board of matching couple outfits you both should try. He’s the type to enjoy doing your skincare routines together during sleepovers, transforming these moments into intimate bonding experiences. He has a great sense of style and is the type of boyfriend who helps put together your outfits, and even learns how to style your hair to make sure you feel confident and beautiful. He’s also the type of boyfriend to patiently untangle your earphones when you get frustrated trying to do it yourself.

He’s the type of boyfriend to be deeply empathetic and share his concerns with you, valuing open communication in your relationship. He’s not afraid to show his emotions, and he tears up when he hears about your hard times, feeling your pain as his own. His thoughtful nature ensures you always feel understood and supported. When he’s the one dealing with hardships, he appreciates you just being there to hug him and talk him through his thoughts. No matter what’s troubling him, your presence alone makes him feel a little better.

He’s the type of boyfriend who may not be as physically affectionate as the other members. Though he doesn't kiss you often, it’s always behind closed doors when he does. Similar to Mark, he’s the type of boyfriend whose kisses are long, deep, and sincere, filled with unspoken affection and love. But he’s also the type of boyfriend to surprise you with pecks to the lips when he finds you cute.

Ultimately, Renjun is the type of boyfriend who truly cares for you in every way, creating a relationship built on mutual respect, understanding, and deep emotional connection. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know how much he loves you, you can just feel it whenever you look at him.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇ jeno

Jeno is the type of boyfriend who is the perfect balance between a strong, masculine presence and a soft, affectionate soul in your relationship. He’s the type to exude a protective aura that envelops you where you go. When you're out together, his hand naturally finds its place on your back or waist, ensuring your safety and comfort. He's attentive to small details like positioning you on his left side, away from the street, and readily offering his jacket when the weather turns chilly. These gestures not only showcase his protective instincts but also his possessive side, reminding you and others that you’re his.

He’s the type of boyfriend to keep you on your toes with how affectionate he can be. You never truly know what to expect from him. Sometimes, he surprises you with kisses so deeply passionate that they leave you breathless. Yet, in quieter moments, he transforms into a cuddly sweetheart, speaking in an endearing aegyo voice that melts your heart. His spontaneity and ability to switch between these sides of himself add excitement and tenderness to your relationship.

He’s the type of boyfriend who enjoys taking you on hiking dates, emphasizing how it’s good for your health. However, if you get tired by the end of it, he's quick to offer you a piggyback ride on the journey back, effortlessly blending his strength with his nurturing nature. He’s also the type of boyfriend to surprise you by cleaning the apartment and preparing a warm meal for you after a long day of school or work. His thoughtfulness shines through in these acts of service, making you feel cherished and loved in practical ways.

He’s the type of boyfriend to be a compassionate listener who values your thoughts and feelings deeply. When you share your concerns or discuss something that's bothering you, he listens intently, his touch gentle as he traces comforting patterns on your hand. His ability to offer silent support and understanding strengthens your bond, creating a safe space where you can be vulnerable and open with each other. 

In essence, Jeno is the type of boyfriend who is a partner that fills your life with love and security. Being with him will make you feel like you’re stuck in the honeymoon phase forever.

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haechan 

Haechan is the type of boyfriend who thrives on affection, often expressing his neediness in the sweetest ways. He’s the type to never let you leave without a goodbye kiss, ensuring every parting moment is filled with warmth and connection. Whether in public or private, he shamelessly snuggles into you, finding comfort and security in your presence. He is the type to be playfully insistent on using pet names like "baby," "sunflower," or "handsome." He brightens up when you call him by his nickname "Hyuck," revealing his softer, more vulnerable side that's reserved just for you. 

He’s the type of boyfriend to enjoy teasing and banter, but knows when to set aside the jokes and be serious, especially when it matters the most to you. He’s the type to notice if something is upsetting you, even in a group of people. And he’d go out of his way to check on you to make sure everything was okay. He’s also the type of boyfriend to playfully beg you to cook his favorite dishes like kimchi jjigae, which you almost always give in to. 

He’s the type of boyfriend who includes you in his world, whether it’s letting you sit in his lap while he games on his PC or charming you with aegyo when he wants a kiss. Even during your toughest moments, his infectious humor never fails to make you laugh or smile. But on a more serious side, he’s the type of boyfriend who gets overwhelmed by how strong his feelings are for you. Just thinking about how much he loves you is enough to make him tear up. 

At the end of the day, Haechan is the type of boyfriend who is not afraid to be playful, and affectionate, and show how deep his feelings are for you. His ability to balance lighthearted moments with genuine sincerity makes every day with him an adventure filled with laughter, love, and heartfelt connections.

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jaemin 

Jaemin is the type of boyfriend who is a walking green flag, embodying all the qualities of a loving and considerate partner. He never holds back his affection, constantly showering you with hugs and kisses, and always maintaining some form of physical connection, whether it’s hand-holding or resting a hand on your knee. He’s the type of boyfriend to send daily texts to check up on you if he’s at work, showing his continuous care and concern for your well-being. He’s also the type to scold you for skipping meals or getting sick, even when he does the same sometimes.

He’s the type of boyfriend to shamelessly flirt with you, making you blush with his playful comments and cheeky smirks when he catches you staring at him from across the room. He’s the type to talk about your future together during cuddle sessions, sharing your dreams of getting married and having kids. Beyond physical touches and sweet words, he’s the type of boyfriend who loves to cook for you whenever he can, and he gets equally happy when you cook for him, appreciating every gesture of care you show.

He’s the type of boyfriend who is generally easygoing, though he has his moments of jealousy. He gets laughably envious when you give more attention to his cats than him or when you rave about how Jeno looked on stage. These moments of jealousy are never overbearing but rather endearing, showing how much he values your attention and affection. And he loves that you always reassure him that your heart belongs to him. 

He’s the type of boyfriend to take countless photos of you on your dates. Even if you don’t love having your photo taken, he just can’t resist capturing your beauty. Besides, he insists it's for the memories to look back on when you two are old and fray. He’s the type to have his phone gallery filled with pictures of you, and he proudly shows them to his members from time to time. While you could point out all your flaws in one picture, Jaemin never even looked at them. No matter how insecure you might be, he’s the type of boyfriend to make you feel pretty.

Simply put, Jaemin is the type of boyfriend who is practically perfect with his unwavering support and daily reminders of his love. Being in a relationship with him is nurturing, fun, and filled with dreams for the future.

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chenle 

Chenle is the type of boyfriend who can be really annoying at times, but you can’t help but love him for it. He loves to joke around and make you laugh, especially when you're feeling down. When he does something that annoys you, he’s quick to make it up with a lot of hugs, using affection to win you over. Most of the time, you end up giving into his silliness and laughing with him. 

He’s the type of boyfriend to buy gifts for you quite often, something you kind of had to get used to. He’s the type to surprise you with things he’s seen you admiring online or at a store. Even if you scold him for not saving his money or spending it more wisely, Chenle insists that as your boyfriend, it’s part of his job to spoil you. 

He’s also the type of boyfriend to share his passions with you, whether it’s taking you to see a Warrior’s game or having you watch and cheer him on as he plays basketball. His excitement for these activities becomes even more meaningful when you join in, creating shared experiences that deepen your bond. He’s also the type of boyfriend who enjoys traveling and exploring new places with you. He loves taking you out, whether it’s to explore the rural areas of Korea to eat gukbap or book a surprise trip to Shanghai. His spontaneous nature keeps your relationship exciting and full of adventure, with each trip creating cherished memories. 

He’s the type of boyfriend who regularly gushes to you about how cute the members are, but gets all shy when you also call him cute. He’s also the type to feel a little betrayed when his dog, Daegal, likes you more than him. However, he can never be sulky for long because he can’t really blame her. And he admires how you always make sure his daughter runs back into his arms.

Altogether, Chenle is the type of boyfriend to keep your life vibrant and full of love with his playfulness, generosity, and genuine care. Although he drives you crazy at times, he teaches you how to have fun and live in the present.

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jisung

Jisung is the type of boyfriend who is super shy in the beginning but gradually becomes more comfortable and open with time. He’s the type to hide behind your back or bury his face in your shirt when he gets embarrassed about something. He’s the type of boyfriend who also loves being taller than you, not in a teasing way, but because it makes him feel more protective. He secretly loves it when you compare the size of your hands, although he blushes every time you do it. 

He’s the type of boyfriend to ramble about his curiosity and interests to you. He enjoys talking about the wonders of space and aliens, letting you into his fascinating world of thoughts. He also loves talking about things like MBTI with you and finds joy in learning about yourselves together. Sometimes, he even rants about his debates with Chenle, showcasing his playful and thoughtful side. 

He’s also the type of boyfriend to have a lot of serious conversations with you, usually reserved for late nights. He’s the type to lay his head in your lap as he shares what is on his mind. The gentle stroking of your fingers through his hair helps him feel calm and at ease. Sometimes he doesn't even need to say anything, for your open arms provide all the comfort he needs. He’s the type of boyfriend who loves when you hug him, often calming down when anxious thoughts run through his head. Cuddles are even better, especially when you get to fall asleep in each other’s arms, feeling completely safe and loved.

He’s the type of boyfriend who can be quite sentimental, especially when he’s on tour. He misses you deeply and has been known to cry when he thinks about how much he misses you. These moments highlight his deep emotional connection and attachment to you. He’s also the type to feel incredibly touched when you do simple things like cooking for him or surprising him with bunggeobang on a cold day, appreciating the warmth and love you bring into his life.

Over time, Jisung is the type of boyfriend you can build a deep, emotionally mature relationship. Even if he might be the youngest in his group, his maturity shines when he’s with you. He evolves into a loving and thoughtful boyfriend who cherishes every moment with you.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[maxxxineminxxx]

I wanna be more part 2 || eddie munson

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/maxxxineminxxx/730923192165826560/i-wanna-be-more-eddie-munson?source=share

warnings: angst, jealousy, cussing, underage drinking, kissing.

summary : y/n attends the party she was unsure about going to, only to find out that Eddies there as well with his "girl?'' Eddie is still ignoring y/n and she is determined to find out why.

A/n; I decided on making a part two I hope its okay. I tried to finish this part and upload it as fast as i could so if there is any errors let me know!

You haven't spoken to Eddie all week, and every attempt to catch his eye seems to fail. The guys from Hellfire, while friendly, are just as clueless about Eddie's behaviour as you are. You've missed being with them, but with the way Eddie's been acting, you doubt he'd even want you around at this point. You can't shake the feeling that he's got Roxanne as a stand-in for you. The two of them seem awfully close.

Yesterday was the first day of the week that you had biology, Eddie was in the same class as you and sat right next to you so you thought you would finally be able to maybe get him to even acknowledge your presence. But he didn’t in fact he didn’t even sit next to you he moved his seat and sat next to Roxanne instead. The two of them giggling the entire lesson.

The cheerleaders have been persistent in trying to convince you to go to the party tonight, but all you really want to do is wallow in self-pity. On Saturday nights, you and Eddie would have your cherished movie nights. This tradition had been going strong since you were twelve, and you hadn't missed one. But tonight, you couldn't help but feel that it would mark the first Saturday where this tradition would be broken. Eventually, though, you decide that it might be good to take your mind off the situation and distract yourself for a couple of hours by going to this party.

As you approach Olivia's house, its exterior gives off elegance and warmth. The well-maintained structure stands as a testament to a comfortable and inviting abode. Olivia's mother graciously welcomes you inside. Following the lively symphony of girlish laughter, you navigate through the house. The source of the cheerful laughter and singing leads you to a room where a flurry of activity unfolds. The air is scented with cosmetics, a delightful blend of powders and perfumes.

 Within this lively environment, a group of girls are engaged in the transformative ritual of hair and makeup, each one a portrait of focused determination. Some of them in pairs, offering assistance and sharing opinions on outfits. The room is vibrant with colour, style, and a shared sense of excitement as they prepare for the party soon.

"y/n, get over here so I can get started on your makeup," Chrissy said to you, patting the spot next to her on the bed. You complied and settled in, letting her work her magic.

Meanwhile, Layla declared herself the outfit maker and designer, convinced that jeans were a no-go for a party. You observed as Carol and Olivia playfully teased each other and spritzed their hair.

 "y/n, you're up next for hair," Olivia informed you, stealing glances at her own reflection.

“y/n is there anyone you like?” Chrissy asked as she finished up your blush. “Yeah, but I don’t really think he likes me back like that, he kind of only sees me as a friend.” You admitted to her, she looked at you with pitiful eyes. “Well, his loss yeah?” you hummed in agreement and carol placed her hands on your shoulders and then spoke. “Hold your breath unless you want to pass out from inhaling too many hairspray fumes, I’ve learnt from experience.”

 This was going to be a long night. Slightly uncomfortable too, outfit wise.

Arriving at Jason's house, a wave of discomfort washed over you. The dress you wore hugged your form, its hemline leaving you feeling more exposed than you were used to. Layers of makeup adorned your face, a foreign sensation that you tried to ignore. Taking a deep breath, you pushed those sensations aside, determined to make the most of the evening. A break from the Eddie situation was much needed.

Compliments from fellow partygoers began to flow, and you couldn't deny the boost to your confidence. It made the uncomfort worth it. Though you couldn't ignore the lingering gazes from the basketball team. In the kitchen, an entire table was dedicated to a bunch of alcoholic drinks. You poured some into a cup, leaning against the counter as you took a sip. It was a moment of peace before you had to socialize. Although it didn't last very long before the girls were running up to you. The girls all come rushing up to you, whispering in hushed tones among themselves.

"Oh my god, you're never going to believe who even dared to attend tonight," Layla announces to the group, imitating a gag. "Eddie Munson and Roxanne are here together," she adds.

 You scan the room, and there they are.

The sting of hurt cuts deep, a familiar ache settling in your chest. It's a harsh truth you've come to accept - Eddie's reluctance to attend parties with you is a wound that never seems to fully heal. No matter how much you plead, his answer is always the same: a resolute no. You've always turned down invitations like this because Eddie didn't enjoy them, and you didn't want to go without him.

You wonder if he would have done the same for you. And now, he's here, amidst it all, with her. She likely didn't need to utter a plea, a thought that only adds to the pain. You watch as she leans into his side, and he holds her close. Your gaze remains fixed on them until your eyes meet Eddie's. He looks at you, then turns to Roxanne, whispering something in her ear. They both giggle.

The alcohol begins to work its gentle magic, enveloping you in a comforting warmth. Leaning into Jason, who's positioned himself protectively between you and Carol, you find solace in his presence. It's surprising, yet oddly comforting. He places a protective arm around your waist.

“you, okay?” he asked with genuine concern you nod and give him a smile. “Just tired.”

Jason had promised to be your protector, ready to confront any guy who overstepped boundaries and made you uneasy. His genuine concern touched you deeply, especially when you confide your uncertainty about the party during your lunch conversation. As the party swirls around you, the noise and bright lights closing in, you start to feel slightly overwhelmed.

You stumble towards the front porch, craving the cool embrace of fresh air and a moment of peace. The alcohol has taken its toll, pushing you on the edge of emotions. Your heart aches for a chance to talk to Eddie, to find out the reason for his distance.

Lost in your thoughts, you settle onto the porch, consumed by all your questions and concerns. It takes a moment before you even register the presence beside you. Glancing over, your breath catches in your throat. There's Eddie, his expression etched with deep contemplation. It appears he, too, is lost in his own world, unaware of your arrival. The weight of your unspoken connection hangs heavy in the air between you.

But when he finally noticed you, he stood up, already ready to head back inside and ignore you once again. But you grab his arm before he can enter the house once more. Your voice trembles with frustration and hurt as you confront Eddie. His attempts to avoid your gaze only fuel your determination.

“Why are you ignoring me, Eddie? I think I deserve a damn explanation," you press your grip on his arm firm. His response feels like a dismissive blow.

"I don't know what you mean," he mutters, a fake innocence in his tone that grates against your raw emotions. It's as if he's trying to gaslight you, making it seem like you've imagined this distance.

"You don't know what I mean? How about how you ignored me all weekend, and then still didn't speak to me at school, no matter how many times I tried to reach out to you?" Your words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your broken connection. The ache of longing for an explanation pulse through you, demanding acknowledgment.

Eddie's fingers dance nervously over his rings, a visible sign of his stress. He lets out a shaky exhale, struggling to find the right words. "I Dunno," he mumbles, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Your frustration grows, demanding an answer. "What do you mean you don't know? You just woke up and decided you were going to ignore me for no reason, huh?" The hurt and confusion well up within you, desperate for an explanation. You feel your eyes swell up with tears, and you blink them away, worried about messing up your makeup. Eddie’s confession hangs heavy in the air, each word dripping with sincerity and vulnerability.

"I love you, y/n, so much it scares me," he admits, his emotions laid bare.

"I've been working up the courage for years to ask you out or say something, but I figured you would never see me that way, and then I'd ruin our entire friendship. So I needed to get over you. And I couldn't do that by seeing you all the time, I only came to this stupid party to make sure you were okay,” he admits ‘’i even asked Roxanne to help me i don't know, maybe make you jealous, see if you even cared.’’

The sight of you with Jason seems to further drive home the point for Eddie, a bitter confirmation of what he feared. "But you look pretty cozy over there with Jason, so it looks like you couldn't care less," he concludes, his tone laced with hurt. Your heart aches, the weight of his words settling in. This is a mess of misunderstanding.

His words leave you momentarily speechless. He wants more than just friendship, and the weight of that realization settles in, both thrilling and terrifying. As he turns to leave, you find your voice, a mixture of surprise and longing colouring your words.

"Eddie, wait." But you've answered too late; he's already walking towards his car to leave. You run after him, yelling out his name, and he finally looks back at you.

The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air as you try to muster the words. "Eddie wait” But your attempt at an explanation is abruptly cut off.

His voice trembles with pain, a raw vulnerability in his eyes. "Y/n, save it okay? I don't want to hear it," he interjects, his tone laced with sadness. His words struck you like a blow, and in that vulnerable moment, you couldn't hold back any longer. "I love you too," you confessed, the truth tumbling from your lips as he moved towards his car. You couldn't bear to watch him leave, to be ignored again. You had to tell him now.

As he turned to look at you, his face registered shock and disbelief, a thousand emotions dancing across his features. The weight of your unspoken feelings hung heavily between you, a bridge waiting to be crossed. He moved closer to you. So close that you could feel his breath fanning over your face. “Say that again,” he asked, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and locking eyes with you.

“I love you, Eddie.” He cupped your face with both his hands, and you felt his lips crash into yours creating an electrifying connection that sent shivers down your spine. It was a passionate moment filled with desire and longing. Our bodies pressed against each other as if trying to merge into one. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the intensity of the kiss. The kiss was hungry and passionate. You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He broke away from the kiss and looked at you with a smirk. “I haven't told you how beautiful you look tonight,” he said, his hands roaming your body. You blushed and hid your face in his neck. He held you close, pressing kisses to your cheeks.

‘’Please don’t ignore me again Eddie, i wish you would have spoken to me " you said attempting to make the situation serious again so you could understand how he was feeling.

"I know, I know I should've just told you how I was feeling, but I just couldn't,” he admitted softly. You brushed his bangs out of his face and watched as he gathered his thoughts.

“i didn't know how to talk to you about it or even approach the situation, i thought that if i admitted it to you i would mess it up and become a stuttering mess, ‘m sorry.” he expressed to me, he buried his face into the crook of my neck for a moment before he pulled away and looked at me with a smirk.

 “So what's this I'm hearing about you loving me huh?”

 “Eddie, stop, I'm still mad at you,” you said, fighting the urge to smile.

“Nonoo y/n you love me’’ “Y/N L/N LOVES EDDIE MUNSON’’ he screamed on top of his lungs “Eddie people are staring” you laughed and tried to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“Let them stare, I'm only telling the truth.’’ he leaned in to kiss you once more. “How about I make it up to you with a milkshake?” “Only if its chocolate”

You and Eddie walked hand in hand to his van. It felt like a dream, the reality of your shared feelings sinking in with each step. The joy in your heart was palpable, unable to tear your gaze away from him, grateful that he felt the same way you did.

“y/n do you know what this means” he looked over at me and was suddenly extremely serious. “A cheerleader is in love with me.’’

“You are actually such a dork” you say as you grab his hand to hold whilst the two of you walk over to his van. “Yeah, but I’m a dork that you love.”

tags: (i hope this is everyone tumblr wasnt allowing me to tag some ppl so if i missed anyone im so sorry )

@thedyingwriter @daisyridleyyyy @munsonzgf

@sazifer @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @sashaphantomhive

@boomitsallie1 @emma77645 @ziggeddie @ahoyyharrington

@inesven

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: During a case, Hotch and Y/N let the passion win.

Warnings: 🔞‼️ new relationship, smut, shower sex, friends to lovers, hot, vaginal sex, lots of kisses, cute moments.

Words count: 6,770k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Something new pt.3

Read part 1 and part 2 here.

Behind closed doors

For months now, they’ve been seeing each other, balancing the job and the secret relationship. Not that they didn’t want to tell the team about it, but they just wanted to enjoy whatever they had quietly, without gossip or questions about it.

They managed to keep the team’s prying eyes away, opting for quiet dinners at home instead of restaurants, and stolen moments between cases. Each time they parted ways, the ache of their separation only grew, and each reunion felt like a breath of fresh air.

At first, it had been easy to keep their relationship hidden. Y/N was careful, meticulous about avoiding suspicion. Hotch, too, was guarded; he was used to compartmentalizing his life, separating the personal from the professional. But the longer they were together, the more difficult it became to maintain that distance, especially as the connection between them deepened.

The secrecy, though thrilling in the beginning, was starting to feel like a weight pressing down on them both but in the quiet of his house, when it was just the two of them, it was easy to forget all that.

His bedroom was filled with the warmth of early morning sunlight streaming through the windows.

Y/N was still nestled in his arms, her head resting comfortably against his chest. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments they cherished when the rest of the world seemed far away.

“Morning, Lieutenant,” he murmured, his hand gently running up and down her back.

She smiled, lifting her head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good morning, Agent Hotchner.”

They stood like that for quite a while, just enjoying each other’s presence knowing that soon they would’ve to go separate ways as their respective jobs were waiting for them. They reluctantly left the bed and headed to the kitchen.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as Hotch and Y/N sat together, enjoying breakfast. The moment felt perfect—just the two of them, away from the world for a little while. Y/N reached across the table, giving Hotch’s hand a gentle squeeze as they shared a look filled with warmth and familiarity.

But the peacefulness shattered when they heard a sudden knock at the front door. Hotch froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

Y/N frowned. “What is it?”

“Morgan. I was supposed to give him a ride to work today.” His voice was laced with regret, his expression a mix of panic and frustration.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You forgot?”

“Completely,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the room, cataloging the evidence of her presence—her heels left haphazardly near the couch, her jacket draped over the back of a chair, and two coffee mugs sitting beside each other on the table. “We need to hide this. Now.”

They sprang into action, working quickly and quietly. Y/N grabbed her mug and hurried to the sink, rinsing it out while Hotch snatched her jacket, tossing it behind the couch. She rushed to collect her heels, but a second knock echoed through the house, louder and more insistent.

“Hotch, you in there?” Morgan’s voice was muffled but clear.

Hotch shot Y/N a quick, apologetic look. “I’ll handle this.”

“I’ll stay in the bedroom,” she whispered, retreating to the bedroom and flashing him a supportive smile. “Good luck.”

With one last sweep of the room, Hotch opened the door. Morgan stood there, his grin easy but his eyes as sharp as ever. “Morning, Hotch. You ready?”

“Yeah, come in for a minute. I just need to change,” Hotch said, stepping aside and trying to keep his tone casual.

As Morgan entered, his gaze swept the living room. He was always observant, it was part of his nature, and there was no hiding anything from him. Hotch felt a knot tighten in his chest as Morgan’s eyes lingered on the two coffee mugs on the table. His lips twitched into a curious smile, but he didn’t say anything yet.

Hotch made his way toward the bedroom, hoping to avoid any questions, but Morgan’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “You had company, Hotch?”

Hotch paused his back to Morgan, taking a moment before turning around, his expression neutral. “Just me. Jack is with Jessica,” he said, hoping the lie sounded convincing.

Morgan’s eyes were sharp, and his grin grew a little wider. “Right,” he drawled, his gaze drifting to the heels half-hidden behind the couch.

Hotch followed his line of sight and cursed inwardly, realizing he hadn’t fully hidden the heels. He fought to keep his expression composed. “I’ll go change.”

Hotch turned quickly and slipped into the bedroom, where Y/N was standing by the closet, already pulling on her shirt. “He saw the mugs,” Hotch whispered as he grabbed his suit from the hanger. “And your heels. And I need to change fast.”

He slipped off his pajama shirt, and Y/N stood there for a moment, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his back. “Guess I’ll stay hidden until you’re out of here.”

Hotch paused, giving her a grateful smile. “Thanks for being patient.”

“Just part of the job,” she teased, leaning in for a quick kiss before he pulled on his shirt and tie. “Try not to let him figure out all your secrets.”

Hotch smiled at her again, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment before he finished getting dressed. “I’ll be quick.”

He returned to the living room with Morgan, who was lounging on the couch, clearly waiting with a bit of curiosity. “All set?” Morgan asked, eyes sharp as he watched Hotch emerge, fully suited now.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Hotch said, feeling a small wave of relief as he led Morgan out the door. But as they walked to the car, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Morgan’s curious glances weren’t just casual—he knew something was up.

As the door shut behind them, Y/N leaned against the bedroom wall as she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they’d dodged the bullet—at least for now.

*

After arriving with Morgan, Hotch made his way to his office, his mind still processing the close call they had at home. He shut the door behind him, needing a moment to collect his thoughts, unaware of the storm brewing just outside.

The team was now hanging out in the small kitchen area, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Morgan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, wearing an almost mischievous grin.

“You guys won’t believe what I found out this morning,” he started, his tone conspiratorial.

“What now?” Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

“Hotch is dating someone,” Morgan announced, his voice low but filled with excitement.

Emily nearly choked on her drink. “Wait, seriously? Hotch?”

Morgan nodded, clearly enjoying the dramatic effect. “I swear! I saw some heels lying around his living room.”

“You’re kidding, right?” JJ asked, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Nope,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “So, unless Hotch wears heels, yeah, he’s definitely dating someone. But who could it be?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her features. “You really think Hotch is actually dating someone? He’s so… Hotch.”

“Exactly!” Morgan replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s what makes this whole thing so juicy. Who could possibly get through that wall of his?”

JJ leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the desk as she considered the possibilities. “Maybe it’s someone from outside the Bureau? You know how he is, he’s always so guarded. It could be someone he met at a case.”

Garcia, who had just entered the room, chimed in with her usual flair, her hair bouncing as she spoke. “Or maybe it’s someone from one of our past cases! I mean, he does have that whole brooding, mysterious vibe. Some people are drawn to that, right?”

“Good point, Garcia. But Hotch usually keeps that stuff close to his chest,” Reid interjected, adjusting his glasses as he joined the conversation. “It’s not like he’s the type to broadcast his personal life.”

“True,” Emily agreed, crossing her arms.

Rossi, who had been quietly listening, finally chimed in. “You all have to remember, Hotch is a private guy. If he’s dating someone, it’s probably someone who understands that about him.”

“I bet he’s trying to keep it under wraps for a reason,” Morgan said, glancing around. “But I have a feeling you know more than you’re letting on. You’ve been awfully quiet, Rossi.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. “I’m not in the loop on this one, believe me. If Hotch wants to keep his personal life private, that’s his choice.”

“Come on, Rossi! You know him better than any of us,” Morgan pressed, trying to get a reaction. “You’ve got to know something!”

“Honestly, I don’t,” Rossi replied, chuckling. “I’m as clueless as the rest of you. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he was seeing someone. He deserves a little happiness.”

Just then, Y/N entered the office, catching the tail end of the conversation. She felt a flutter of nerves, knowing how close they were to uncovering her secret with Hotch. She took a deep breath, trying to project an air of calm as she approached the group. “What are you two gossiping about?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hotch is dating someone,” she said, her tone playful.

Y/N’s heart raced as cold shivers ran down her spine. Panic surged within her, but she quickly masked it with a bright smile, knowing she had to join the speculation to keep the team from growing suspicious. “Oh really? That’s interesting. Any ideas who it could be?” she asked, forcing casualness into her tone.

Morgan leaned in, an exaggerated expression of seriousness on his face. “We were just discussing how it’s probably someone who has to get through that cold, stoic exterior of his.”

Garcia giggled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’d love to do a background check on whoever it is. I need to see if they’re worthy of our Hotch!”

“But what if he’s dating someone we already know?” JJ mused, her brow furrowing in thought. “What if it’s someone from the team’s past? Like a colleague we’ve worked with?”

Garcia’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that would be scandalous! Can you imagine? I mean, think of the stories we could tell. Hotch and a mysterious agent—like a secret spy romance! It’s practically a movie plot!”

Y/N laughed along, though her heart was racing. “Well, he does seem a little different lately. More…relaxed. So, whoever she is, she’s good for him.”

The buzz of conversation filled the bullpen, the team lost in their theories about Hotch’s mysterious love life. Just as Y/N began to relax, hoping their secret would remain intact, the door to Hotch’s office swung open. He stepped out walking towards the team, his expression unreadable, cutting through the chatter with a sense of urgency.

“We have a case,” he announced, his tone low and firm.

For a long moment, no one moved, all eyes were on him, eager for answers.

“What?” Hotch asked, sensing the collective gaze and the charged silence that filled the room.

Garcia, always the boldest, couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Are you dating someone?” she asked, her voice laced with playful curiosity.

Hotch hesitated, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, but it quickly turned to resignation. He glanced around at the expectant faces, the playful smirks, and the knowing looks that practically shouted.

“I—” he began, his mind racing for a way to deflect the question, but the words caught in his throat. There was no way out. The truth hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

“Yes,” he finally confirmed, his voice steady but devoid of details. He saw the surprise ripple through the team, and the spark of gossip ignited instantly. “But I’m not discussing it.”

Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief, while JJ leaned forward, clearly eager for more details. “You’re really dating someone? Hotch, we need names!”

Hotch held up a hand, a firm but gentle reminder to reign in their enthusiasm. “I said I’m not discussing it,” he repeated, a touch of warning in his voice, and walked up the stairs to the conference room leaving the team buzzing with questions.

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “You can’t just drop that bombshell and walk away, Hotch! You have to give us something!”

Y/N was the first to move, walking right behind him and taking the chance for the way out. He felt her presence beside him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered trying to be as sneaky as possible.

Y/N glanced at him, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t be. They’re profilers after all.”

*

The team had been working on the case for nearly twenty-two hours straight. The suspect remained elusive, and each lead seemed to evaporate, leaving them chasing shadows. Exhaustion weighed heavily on everyone as they entered the hotel lobby.

Hotch approached the desk, his expression professional but strained, while the team waited behind him. As the clerk typed away, a look of mild concern crossed her face.

“There weren’t enough rooms for each of you to have one, but we’ve saved four rooms for you,” she explained apologetically. “We’re fully booked due to a local festival. You’ll have to double up.”

Hotch nodded; his mouth set in a firm line. "That’s fine. We’ll make it work."

Morgan smirked as he exchanged a look with Reid, who gave a small shrug. "Guess it’s one of those nights," Morgan said with a grin, his tone light despite the fatigue weighing on them.

Hotch returned to the group with the keys in hand.

Rossi smirked promptly taking one of the keys. “I’m too old to share the room.”

Morgan rolled his eyes at the older man. “Guess I’m with Reid, then.”

That left Emily and JJ in one room and Hotch and Y/N in another. They exchanged a quick look, a flicker of amusement passing between them, but they kept their expressions neutral.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Lieutenant,” Hotch said with a small, professional smile. He handed her the keycard.

Morgan grinned as he grabbed his key from Hotch’s hand. “You sure about that, Hotch? Hope your girlfriend isn’t the jealous type.”

The comment earned a few smirks and playful glances from the others. Hotch’s expression remained neutral, though his eyes briefly flicked over to Y/N. “It’ll be fine,” he replied calmly, brushing off the remark.

Y/N maintained a neutral expression, nodding as if it were just another professional arrangement. In truth, her heart skipped a beat, and a thrill of anticipation coursed through her.

Having a relationship was a line neither of them had intended to cross, but their bond had grown, and no matter how much they tried to resist, they were drawn to one another. They were careful—very careful. But moments like these, when they were thrown together by circumstance, made it difficult to keep their feelings entirely hidden.

In the hotel room, Y/N set her overnight bag on the side of the bed furthest from the door while Hotch did the same with his. The room was modest, with one queen-sized bed, a desk, and a bathroom tucked into the corner. They fell into their usual routine, maintaining the air of professionalism they wore like armor when around the others. But when they were alone, it was almost impossible to ignore the tension between them.

Y/N felt Hotch’s eyes on her as she opened her bag, retrieving her toiletries and sleepwear. A mischievous grin tugged at her lips as an idea formed in her mind. She could feel the weight of his gaze, a steady, familiar warmth that she had come to know well. Deciding to play into it, she pulled off her blazer slowly, folding it neatly on the bed.

"The shower’s yours," Hotch said, his voice low, his fatigue evident as he loosened his tie. The movement was automatic, yet to Y/N, it felt intimate.

"Or..." Y/N let the word linger, a playful glint in her eyes as she approached him. "We could save water." She watched as the corner of his mouth twitched—he was trying not to smile, but she knew him too well. Before he got the chance to answer, Y/N was already working on her shirt, unbuttoning it one button at a time, taking her time.

His eyes fell on her cleavage, getting a glimpse of the bra she was wearing.  Her scent filled his nose, driving him crazy. As much as he was trying to fight the urge to lean closer and kiss her, he needed to stay professional for both their sake.

She slowly walked backward, never losing his gaze while unbuttoning the last few buttons of her shirt. She let it fall on the floor, revealing the black lacy bra she was wearing. Hotch suppressed a groan at the sigh, but his eyes betrayed him; they darkened with lust and desire. She bit her lip at the effect she had on him.

She turned her back to him for one last show. Y/N pulled down her pants, letting them slide down her legs agonizing slowly before stepping out of them. She knew Hotch was still watching and could practically feel the intensity of his gaze that made her skin burn with desire.

“Y/N…” he growled as she stood before his eyes in matching underwear and bra, teasing him. “Stop.”

“Make me, Hotchner.” She chuckled flashing him with a provocative smile before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of the water running in the shower was the only noise that could be heard. In a matter of seconds, her bra flew across the room straight on the bed, quickly followed by her underwear.

As she stepped into the shower, the hot water felt heavenly against her skin, washing away the tension from the long day. She sighed, tilting her head back as the water cascaded down her body. She allowed herself a moment to relax, feeling the soothing warmth.

There was a moment of silence before she heard the rustle of fabric as he discarded his clothes. Her pulse quickened, and she felt the familiar thrill of anticipation. The glass door slid open, and Hotch stepped in, steam rising around them. His eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto hers.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered as he moved closer, water dripping down his bare chest.

She felt his presence behind her, the heat of his body mixing with the steam that surrounded them. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes tracing over his form.

Hotch’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes locked onto hers. Droplets of water clung to his hair and lashes, making him look impossibly handsome, and she felt her heart race. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and so close, was something she never tired of. She reached up, her fingers skimming the droplets off his cheek.

“Are you?” he whispered, his voice husky and quiet, the words almost lost in the sound of the water.

Her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. “Am I what?”

“Jealous,” he clarified, his eyes not leaving hers. There was a flicker of amusement in them, a challenge he knew she couldn’t resist.

Y/N’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath her fingers, and leaned closer. “No,” she whispered, her voice low and intimate. “Because while everyone else gets to see you in only your suit...” Her fingers traced a lower path, just above his waist, where his abs tightened under her touch. “I get that and this.”

Her eyes roamed over his body, taking in every inch of him, water glistening over the defined muscles of his shoulders, his chest, the smooth planes of his abdomen. “This is just for me,” she said, her voice filled with possessive pride. Her fingers lingered as if to claim him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her touch.

His eyes darkened at her words, the intensity in them heating even further. “Just for you,” he echoed, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver through her.

Hotch’s lips hovered above hers, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with the steam. The anticipation hung heavy between them, and Y/N’s heart pounded. She felt the electricity in the air, a pull that she knew they would both give into.

His lips brushed against hers, featherlight, teasing as he let the words sink in. But as the tension snapped, his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss. It was intense, filled with the hunger and passion they had been holding back all day. His hands moved up her back, pulling her flush against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as the water poured down over them.

Every touch felt electric. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his wet hair as she pressed closer, feeling the heat of his body melding with hers. Hotch’s hands roamed, memorizing every curve as he gripped her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The kiss was desperate and unrestrained, each moment a reminder of how hard they worked to keep their connection hidden. Here, in the privacy of the shower, they could let their guard down, and Y/N reveled in it.

The steam swirled around them, adding to the intensity of the moment. The droplets ran down their intertwined bodies, leaving trails on their skin as the hot water cascaded over them. Y/N felt Hotch’s fingers slide down her back, tracing the length of her spine before resting on her hips, grounding them in this moment.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his. “I love it when you let go,” she whispered, her voice a soft murmur against his lips. “When you’re just... mine.”

He chuckled a low sound that sent another shiver through her. “I’m always yours,” he whispered, his hands tightening on her hips, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her knees weak.

Y/N’s lips curled into a smile as she met his gaze, feeling the truth in his words. “Good,” she breathed, before pressing another lingering kiss to his lips.

The kiss grew deeper, more desperate, and as their bodies pressed together under the steady spray of water, the heat between them only intensified.

Y/N’s fingers trailed down Hotch’s chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her fingertips, the steady rhythm of his breathing quickening as she explored. Every touch was electric, and the air between them buzzed with tension.

Hotch's hand gripped her waist, the strength in his hold making her shiver. As their kiss deepened, Y/N felt his need—his desire—matched by her own. She responded, her hands threading through his damp hair, pulling him even closer. He groaned softly against her lips, the sound vibrating through her, and she arched into him, reveling in the way his body reacted to her touch.

“Y/N…” he breathed against her mouth, his voice husky, the sound barely audible above the rush of the water. His lips trailed along her jaw, down the side of her neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin, eliciting soft whimpers of pleasure from her.

“Hotch,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as her head tilted back, giving him more access. The feel of his lips and the scrape of his stubble against her skin sent shivers coursing through her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, the firm muscle beneath her touch grounding her in the moment.

Hotch’s hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and dip, each caress igniting her senses. He slipped his hands under her wet hair, tilting her head back slightly to give him better access to her neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along her collarbone.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against her skin, the heat of his breath sending shivers coursing through her. The worshipful tone in his voice made her feel cherished and desired in a way that sent her heart racing.

“Just for you,” she replied breathlessly, the words spilling from her lips as she leaned into him, craving more of his touch.

The heat between them was almost unbearable, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken. His mouth hovered just above hers, their breaths mingling as they paused, both of them caught up in the anticipation of what came next.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low, filled with a mix of caution and desire. Even in their most passionate moments, he always put her comfort first, a gesture that made her heart swell.

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “More than okay,” she whispered, pulling him closer, her fingers trailing down his back. “It’s perfect.”

He captured her lips again, this time with an intensity that took her breath away. His hands roamed over her body, claiming every inch as his own. “You always do this to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, filled with a mix of frustration and desire. “You push me, and then I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smirk, her chest rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath. “I like it when you lose control,” she whispered, her voice a soft challenge.

He groaned, his forehead resting against hers as his hands moved down her sides, the heat of his touch like fire against her skin. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he breathed, and she felt his lips graze the side of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made her head spin.

She arched her back, pressing into him as his mouth moved lower, tasting the droplets of water that ran along her skin. “Anything you want,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as his hands gripped her hips with more force.

His eyes met hers again, and she saw the flicker of restraint he was trying to hold onto. But when she pulled him closer, she felt the shiver that ran through him. “Aaron...” she breathed; her voice filled with need.

That was all it took. He pushed her harder against the wall, and she felt the cool tiles press into her back, heightening every sensation as the heat of his body enveloped her. His lips met hers in a searing kiss, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped as his hands traveled lower, gripping her thighs and pulling her closer.

She moaned softly into the kiss, the sound echoing off the walls of the small shower. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of his touch, and Y/N felt as if she were melting under the weight of it all.

As the kiss deepened, Hotch’s body pressed against hers, the firm muscles of his chest against her softer curves. The sensation made her heart race, and she arched into him, feeling the intensity of his desire mirroring her own. Her hands explored the length of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, and she knew he was holding himself back.

“Don’t,” she whispered against his lips. “Don’t hold back.”

Her words seemed to ignite something in him, and he groaned softly, the sound deep and raw. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her while keeping her back pressed against the wall.

“Aaron!” Y/N gasped, surprised by the suddenness of the move, but she quickly melted against him and wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the strength in his hold as he anchored her there. The closeness of their bodies, the heat of his skin against hers, made her shiver.

The pressure of his erection against her core sent a thrill of desire racing through her, making her squirm with need. She could feel his muscles tense beneath her palms as she gripped his shoulders, drawing him even closer.

He breathed, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto hers, and she felt a thrill run through her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She grinned, brushing her lips against his in a teasing kiss. “Oh, I think I do.” Her hands moved, cupping his face, her thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw. “And I love it.”

The kiss that followed was searing, full of the passion they had been holding back. Hotch’s grip tightened, and she felt the urgency in his touch as if he couldn’t get enough. His lips moved down her neck, sucking and biting gently, and she moaned, her fingers threading through his hair.

“Hotch,” she gasped as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear. He nipped at her skin, and she shuddered, the pleasure mixing with the intensity of the moment. The feel of his body pressed against hers, the way he moved with her, made her feel like every nerve in her body was on fire.

The water continued to pour down over them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths. His hands moved to his erection as he entered her slowly. The sensations were overwhelming, and she leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she let herself get lost in the moment.

He groaned against her skin, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers through her. His hands gripped her tighter, and she felt the strength of his hold, the way he cradled her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless. His eyes bore into hers, the depth of his feelings clear even in the haze of passion. “You drive me crazy.”

She grinned, feeling the powerful muscles flex under her touch. “Good,” she whispered, her voice low and teasing.

He kissed her again, and this time, it was deeper, more intense. He began to move, slowly at first creating a tantalizing rhythm that made her heart race. The friction between them felt divine, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Y/N let out a soft moan, her head falling back against the wall as she savored the sensation of his body pressing against hers. “Yes, just like that,” she encouraged, urging him on.

Hotch picked up the pace, their bodies moving in a feverish dance beneath the warm spray of the shower. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure radiating through her, building a heat that coiled tightly within her. She could feel the tension building, her body responding eagerly to each movement, every thrust sending her closer to the edge.

“Oh God, Aaron.” She moaned softly as her finger tangled in his hair.

Time seemed to blur as they continued, the intensity building with every touch, every kiss. Hotch’s hands gripped her hips tighter, his movements becoming more urgent, fingers digging into her skin as he held her tightly.

Y/N loved the way he took control, the way he could make her feel so wanted, so alive. She met his movements with equal fervor, grinding her hips against him, eager for more. The sensations were overwhelming and all-consuming.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with need as he pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the humid air. “You feel incredible.”

She gasped at his words, the way he spoke them as if they were a secret only meant for her. “So do you,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch.

The tension between them reached a boiling point, their breaths quickening, the world outside fading completely as they lost themselves in each other. Every movement felt electric, each touch igniting a fire within her that she had never experienced before.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he urged, his voice low and raw, urging her to give voice to her desires.

“I want you,” she gasped, the urgency in her voice matching the frantic rhythm of their bodies. “I want to feel you... all of you.”

Hotch groaned at her words, his desire evident as he captured her mouth again, kissing her with an intensity that made her toes curl. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the slickness of the water heightening every sensation, every touch.

“Just like that,” he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her thighs tighter, pulling her closer as he drove deeper. The rhythm of their bodies intensified a primal connection that made her feel utterly alive.

Y/N felt the tension coiling tighter inside her, the heat building to an almost unbearable level as they continued to lose themselves in each other. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge, her body responding eagerly to every movement.

“Please, don’t stop,” she urged her voice a breathy whisper filled with need.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. “I want you to feel everything.”

With that, he picked up the pace, their bodies moving in a heated rhythm that felt incredible. The sound of water splashing around them mixed with their soft groans, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed in the small space.

Y/N felt her breath hitch as the tension in her core built to an unbearable level, each thrust sending her spiraling closer to release. “Aaron…”

Hotch’s lips found her neck again, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin, making her gasp with pleasure. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her skin, his words igniting a spark of pride within her.

“Just for you,” she managed to gasp, the words barely escaping her lips as the pleasure coursed through her, making her feel dizzy.

Their bodies moved together with an urgency that felt all-consuming, and Y/N could feel herself teetering on the edge. Every thrust brought her closer, each kiss igniting a new wave of desire that made her feel alive.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his grip tightening on her thighs as he moved faster, the intensity of their connection driving them both wild. “You’re incredible.”

The heat between them was overwhelming, every touch, every kiss, setting her ablaze. Y/N felt her body responding to him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as the pleasure reached a fever pitch. “I’m so close,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

“Let go,” he urged, his breath hot against her ear. “I’m right here with you.”

With those words, Y/N felt the dam break. The pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave, pulling her under as she surrendered to the sensation. “Aaron!” she cried out, her body trembling as she let go completely, every nerve ending alive with pleasure.

Hotch groaned her name, the sound sending another wave of ecstasy through her as he followed her over the edge, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, caught in the aftermath of their passion.

Y/N felt the world around them dissolve, the warmth of the water cascading over their bodies as they clung to each other, riding the waves of pleasure together. The intensity of the moment left her breathless, her heart racing as they both slowly came down from the high.

They held each other tightly, their bodies entwined beneath the warm spray of the shower, the world outside forgotten. The heat and steam swirled around them, cocooning them in their private paradise.

“That was…” Hotch started, his voice rough and low. He trailed off, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Perfect,” she finished for him, her voice filled with satisfaction and affection.

“Just for you,” Hotch whispered again, his voice low and sincere, as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, grounding her in the moment, his hands lingering on her hips as he steadied her.

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. “Always just for you,” she replied, wrapping her arms around him as the water continued to flow, washing away the remnants of their passionate encounter.

As the last remnants of steam dissipated in the air, Y/N and Hotch reluctantly stepped out of the shower, water dripping from their bodies as they exchanged playful glances. The bathroom floor was slick beneath their feet, but they hardly noticed, their minds still lost in the aftermath of their heated encounter.

Hotch wrapped a towel around his waist, the fabric clinging to his hips, accentuating his muscular frame. Y/N couldn’t help but admire him, a satisfied smile creeping onto her lips as she caught his eye.

“Now that was a shower to remember,” he remarked, his voice teasing yet sincere, as he tossed her a towel.

She caught it deftly, wrapping it around herself, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. “Definitely,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

He stepped closer, their bodies mere inches apart, the warmth of his presence making her heart race. “I think we should have more ‘rememberable’ moments like that,” he said, his voice low and rich, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down her spine.

“Agreed,” she responded, a smirk dancing on her lips as she took a step back, leading him toward the bedroom. The allure of the bed was almost magnetic, and Y/N felt her heart flutter in anticipation.

As they entered the dimly lit room, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her. The bed was inviting, the sheets crisp and cool, contrasting with the heat that still lingered between them. She climbed onto the bed, the soft fabric enveloping her as she settled against the pillows, her heart racing at the thought of what was to come.

Hotch followed her, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness as he joined her. They sank into the mattress, the weight of their bodies creating a comfortable indentation, a perfect spot for them to unwind.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the intensity of their earlier encounter still swirling in the air around them. Hotch propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze studying her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“Do you think anyone suspects anything?” he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice.

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers brushing against his chest, tracing the outline of his muscles. “I don’t think they have a clue,” she replied. “But they know you’re seeing someone so it’s only a matter of time.”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “I hope they don’t figure it out too soon. I’m not ready for that conversation yet.”

“Neither am I,” she admitted, her expression turning serious for a moment. “But I wouldn’t change anything about tonight.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. It was different from the urgency of their earlier passion; this kiss was slow and deliberate, a silent promise exchanged between them.

Y/N melted into him, savoring the warmth of his body against hers. As they pulled away, she felt a sense of peace settle within her, knowing that this was where she belonged.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked softly.

“Just how perfect this feels,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.”

He turned his head slightly to meet her gaze, his eyes searching hers. “Me neither,” he admitted, his expression sincere. “This is…different.”

“Good different?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Definitely good different,” he replied, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

Y/N leaned in to press her lips against his once more, in a soft and lingering kiss. As they broke the kiss, Y/N nestled her head against Hotch’s chest, feeling the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

The warmth of his body surrounded her, and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled her into a sense of calm. His arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her close as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Y/N let out a contented sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. She felt safe, cherished, and completely at ease. “Goodnight, Aaron,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as sleep began to tug at her.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Sweet dreams.”

With that, they settled into the quiet of the night, the warmth of their bodies entwined as they drifted into a peaceful sleep, secure in each other���s arms. In that moment, everything felt right.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter ten: part two

“i won’t die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and i would break it for you.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: nothing scary to report here — welcome to your happy ending 💖

word count: 8k

author’s note: cherished ones… i can’t believe we’re finally here at the end 🥲 it’s taken me much longer than anticipated to get this out, but i hope it’s worth the wait. allow me to extend my sincere gratitude to you all for hanging in there and going on this journey with me and this series. this started out as pure self-indulgence and turned into something much more along the way and i hope this is received by you as the gift i intended it to be. they’re not off the album i used as the platform for this series, but feel free to listen to rain and take me back to eden by sleep token, which i listened to A LOT while writing this. thank you again for all of your kindness and support. i truly don’t think i could have finished this without it 💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The last couple days had been… good.

Vaggie had approached you the morning after your little sleepover with Angel to see if you’d actually take her up on the offer of managing the hotel’s books. It was a welcome distraction, easily falling back into the routine of your old work. And honestly, their records keeping system needed a complete overhaul. It kept you busy and focused, hours passing like minutes as you honed in on creating the foundations of your system.

Funny how in Hell the work you had always approached with a level of disdain in life had become something to look forward to. Something that was all yours. It was nice. Familiar.

Ironic.

You also hadn’t gone to the bar — the biggest improvement, or at least the one you were happiest about. Feeling more like yourself again and less like your father, who had been no stranger to bouts of liquored-up sulking. It was not a way you wanted to remember him by, nor make a habit of for the eons to come. And beyond just feeling better without alcohol in your system, it was great to see Husk in a more friendly capacity again. Haunting his bar in the way you did wasn’t something you were ever planning to subject either of you any time soon. 

You were regaining a level of comfortability in your room as well. Sleeping better in your bed, which had been difficult to do. For the first few days you slept on the loveseat, where you’ve now spent the last two nights curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.

It was a decent distraction, but thoughts of Alastor still plagued you. Try as you might, it was hard for them not to. He felt so present as you went about your day despite maintaining the separation; feeling his aura hovering around you like a sixth sense. You wanted to ask Husk and Niffty if they felt it like you did — if at all — but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet to do so.

What if they said no?

It was too embarrassing even to think of. The possibility of it being some kind of adverse affect from sleeping with him making your blood rush to your face. 

Maybe I took a piece of him, too… 

The heat on your cheeks intensified at the thought. Isn’t that exactly what had happened?

Sure, in a literal sense he had been the one to take a piece of you. But in return, you had witnessed him in yet another state that no one else — in this building, at least — ever had. Just the fact that he had let you help undress him… That wasn’t something you look lightly, even at the peak of your anger toward him. The nervous way your heart fluttered against your ribs at the memory only further proved the point.

You wanted the opportunity to do it again. Undress him, that is. 

What followed after wasn’t of much consequence; you’d be satisfied just the same. Whether that was helping him out of his day clothes and into pajamas or preparing him to pound you into the mattress — either result was made from the same circumstance. You found you had enjoyed it even more than dressing down his bed for the evening, which had always been a nearly meditative part of your day.

Or, well… it used to be.

Did he even bother with that now? Hell, did he ever? Or was it just more busywork? If it was… you missed it.

Taking care of Alastor was tedious at times but it hadn’t been all bad. He was petulant too, which is probably why he was always deflecting and pointing the finger in your face. But past his venom there was charm. His euphemisms and anecdotes. Grumbling into the newspaper with his ears downcast whenever he came across an unpleasant article, which happened more often than not. 

He enjoyed his coffee black and extra hot, but god forbid if it was burnt. That was one of the first things you had been tasked with perfecting, and mercifully, had been able to accomplish. Alastor never made you handle his food, not out of lack of trust but courtesy. Due to the gruesome reality of what he enjoyed eating, it wasn’t a chore he ever charged you with. And you’d busy yourself with cleaning while he ate to allow him as much privacy as possible. 

As much as he adored the structure of his morning routine, beyond that the day was his for the taking. Living the monotonous life that you had, it was admirable. Sometimes inspiring. He had a mischievous, opportunistic outlook on existence — no doubt a quality that followed him into the afterlife — while you had been (presumably) buried jaded and trepidatious.

He was… fun. Even when he was irritating. 

Before Rosie pawned you off on him, the last time you had ever felt something close to fun was killing your grandmother. A horrifying revelation, but true, though that had more to do with the satisfaction you felt from it than anything. But fun was something that was right at your fingertips with Alastor, when you looked back on the last couple weeks. He had quite the proclivity for antics when he wasn’t being crushed by the weight of his self-imposed grandeur.

The memory of when he brought you back to the alley the day after what you had done came to mind. His inspection of the bag you’d left behind had upset you so much in the moment, but now all you can remember is the glimmer in his eyes. The nearly childlike glee in his fanged smile. Sure, it had been at your expense, but that was how he liked to joke. Satire and whimsy adorned with the pretty bow of his voice and charm.

But his jokes were sometimes too one-sided. His delivery too harsh and actions… demeaning. It wasn’t a facet he aimed at you often but the sting of his cruelty ran deep, almost to the bone. Your hand came up to your throat, the pain in your neck only barely subsided. It had been impossible to tell if the chain had bruised you under all of Alastor’s love bites, but if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way it hadn’t. If even just a little.

You made due with covering yourself up. Managing to find some high-collared button up shirts left to rot in the laundry room. Nothing a good washing wasn’t able to fix. And as the days passed and the marks faded, you were able to transition back into more familiar (and revealing, in comparison) pieces of your wardrobe.

Still, being left to your own devices when Alastor had been the one responsible for not only the marks but ruining the dress that would’ve easily solved your problems with its modesty nicked at you. Not that you had expected gifts after the argument, but considering how he made you wear that dress as uniform there was no way he didn’t have plans to provide a replacement that morning. But it never came. 

Instead he had given you a threat and left you on the floor in nothing but a towel, feeling used and humiliated and alone. And yet here you were, with a book in your hand you hadn’t absorbed the last few pages of because your mind was busy remembering the feeling of removing Alastor’s coat.  

Or how disheveled and boyish he looked the morning you went into his room without permission and found him in bed. The strain in his eyes before you walked into Valentino’s arms. His drawn brows and open, kiss-swollen mouth when he made you his own on the bed right behind you. That face would haunt you for the rest of your afterlife.

But there was another face that earned the honor, too. An expression that eclipsed even your grandmother’s worst sneer. Was what you said to him that morning really so outrageous that it had warranted such wrath and disdain? Alastor had been in quite a decent mood too, before the conversation took a turn. Not that it made you feel any better, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something bigger than that. You had copped attitude before and Alastor had either laughed it off as a mild tantrum or course-corrected you before you even had a chance to realize it.

Beyond that, there were also the things he had done after you fell asleep, face buried in his scarred chest. The medicine he had waiting at the ready for when you inevitably woke up from the ache of his bite, which he had taken the liberty of cleaning and bandaging. He had more than likely done it by hand as well, the same as when he tended to it on your bed that awful morning. No magic, no minions. Despite being the least he could do since he inflicted the wound, that didn’t mean he had to do it himself. But he did.

Your stomach turned thinking about it. The force of his anger just didn’t match up with the efforts he took in caring for you after your entanglement. It was the push and pull you had been battling all week, and your eyes flitted to the door. Going up to his room wasn’t something you had entertained, knowing better than to try and call Alastor’s bluff, but the desire to speak with him now was a temptation you worried you’d lose the battle against. 

Knock.

The single, hollow sound echoing off the door sent a jolt through your body, sitting up from your relaxed position on the small sofa near the fireplace. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Meaning everyone had left the hotel already except for you and…

There’s no way.

Your pulse spiked. 

Maybe you just imagined it. Or the hotel was settling. Things like that could still happen to buildings in the afterlife, right? Ghosts and hauntings and creaks and groans seemed fairly on-brand for Hell. Alastor’s shadow — that you had found yourself missing as well — was proof of that all on its own. 

It was that final thought that brought you to the door, hand hovering over the knob as your breath thinned; perspiration beading your skin like morning dew. Tormented by the prospect that opening it would either reveal him or nothing at all.

Unsure of which you were hoping for as you let your forehead fall forward, a huff of air passing your lips. Eyes closed as you relaxed into the cool lacquer of the wooden door, reaching out. Alastor felt especially close now. Typical that he would show up now that you were not only beginning to feel better, but also reaching the end of your rope in your banishment from him. If you weren’t too busy fighting the whiplash of frustration and want coursing through you, you would have laughed. 

Even reconciliation had to be on his schedule…

If he was actually on the other side of the door wanting to make up, of course. This could all be your imagination, which would be particularly cruel on your mind’s part considering how just moments ago you were feeling so desperate to see him, if only just to talk. You sighed, condensation from your warm breath pilling under your mouth hovering near the door.

Was he really there?

Your hand gripped the handle in response, heart heavy and loud in your chest as you turned it and pulled. There was only one way to know for sure.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor took you in as you opened the door. An apprehensive expression on your face, but with an underlying relief. Though he didn’t need eyesight for the confirmation. Your heartbeat and scent told him all he needed to know with an honesty that betrayed you for his benefit. It was rather unfair, wasn’t it?

The life coming back to your eyes did not go unnoticed, either.

He felt what was left of his vitriol drain out of him, and in a rare moment of self-deprecation he found himself hoping his unpolished state would put you at ease. Despite the lingering tension that was still eating away at him, he truly did wish to avoid an argument. Shouting matches were simply… nasty. In a way he did not much, if at all, enjoy. 

Conversation is called an art for a reason.

A true favorite of his and it was much more his speed. With such an adaptable form you could be fencing one minute and duetting the next. Unless, of course, the conversation was bad, which was a fate worse than death. But that hadn’t been a problem with you, for the most part. He’d like that to be the case now as he prepared to linger for as long as it took to reach some kind of resolution. 

Things couldn’t stay the way they were. He knew you’d both return to yourselves eventually, but you had gotten a head start on him. Leaving him to grasp at what was on the other side of this only in regard to himself. If ever he needed you, you’d be just a summoning away. Tied to him always by your contract. Something that typically provided a sense of security to the point of aloofness. But the uncertainty of how you would approach your days independent of him in the aftermath made him falter. Made evident by the color that had returned to your face, that spark of ferocity in your eyes. 

Deep down he understood that you would carry on. 

Tied to him, yes, but not entangled. There was an unpleasant tightness in his chest at the thought, his jaw flexing with irritation. He wasn’t through exploring this, relishing the fire he felt in his blood at seeing you again up close, lungs taking in your scent to feed the flame. Your racing heart a sonnet so sweet in a way that only he could truly appreciate. Feeding a part of him that either had not existed or had been lying dormant which, now awakened, was eager for more and he found himself wondering when it ever would be satiated.

More of your voice ringing in his ears, whether it was coated in insolence or lust… or laughter. More of your scent in his lungs, oxygenating his blood with the bliss of childhood summers. More of your taste on his tongue. Blood, sweat, tears. He’d take it all, or whichever morsels you were still willing to give him. Even if all that left him with was cordiality, it would be far better than letting you slip through his fingers. How wasted you would be on some tramp off the street. Not even taking into account that the average soul couldn’t appreciate your scent, attributes like responsibility and integrity weren’t typically admired here in the pit.

Who else could see you the way he did? 

Past the pout of your lips to the lethal fangs hiding behind them; that sleeping anger you managed to keep at bay but weren’t afraid to use if necessary. Would you ever reveal that ferocity and glowing eyes to someone else in the ways he had witnessed them — induced by tapping into some of your baser instincts? It made stomach twist just to think it. 

Alastor’s imagination began to run away from him then. Flashes of you making some other sinner’s bed, fetching their coffee, and picking up clothes. Drawing a bath, hanging their coat, laughing at their jokes. That now-dear sulk of yours aimed at the faceless menace when one of those jokes went too far. Phantom hands stripping you of clothes, cupping your face, roaming your body… holding your chin. And though his urges were few and far between, worse still was the thought of you crying out a stranger’s name like a reverent prayer, writhing underneath them as you fell apart.

Foul.

Bile scorched his throat as he fought to maintain his composure in your doorway. The filthy handprints he had just pictured all over you gone in the blink of an eye as his own hand twitched behind his back, eager to hold you once more and feel the heat of your skin soak into his palm. Easy as it would be to reach out and satisfy the urge he refrained from doing so, smothering his desire in his fist. Now wasn’t the right time to succumb to impulse. 

As much as Alastor wanted to pull you into his embrace he knew there was still a hatchet to bury. You had touched quite the nerve that morning, after all, and his actions had been less than genteel as a result. As justified as he had felt at the time, it settled in now as something he was less than proud of. Warranted… What a fool he was to think so. Though misguided, all you had done was try to make sense of things. You would be well within your rights to sever any further personal ties with him, and he swallowed against the anxious lump in his throat.

He had spent so much time wallowing in liquor, wasted countless hours justifying his anger toward you to ease his own unrest. Even if you had picked the fight… hadn’t he brought you right to the edge of it with his antics over the past weeks? In truth, hadn’t making you lose your composure been his goal from the start? He had certainly got what he wanted, just not in a way that was originally intended; culminating in a misunderstanding that threatened to keep parts of yourself locked away from him for, quite possibly, eternity.

Desiring someone’s comfort the way he did yours was something he never expected to have to face, let alone something he ever feared to lose. Alastor wondered for the first time how things between you would be had you met sooner. Granted, you had only been in Hell for two-or-so months, but he was a different man now than he was even then. The Alastor of two months ago still had his microphone, for starters. His sword and shield. Now nothing but another one of his corpses left to decay in the bayou.

That man hadn’t had his confidence shaken, his power drained. Alastor had felt so invigorated when he retreated to the radio tower to mend himself after battling Adam, but the healing process hadn’t been simple. Seeing as the weapon that caused the wound was made of angelic steel, Alastor expected it would take more time than usual, but he had underestimated the reality of it. So many arduous, slow hours had passed as he used all his strength just to make minute progress in closing the gash. It took a week to finally get it to seal, the scar barely formed by the time he encountered you at Rosie’s. 

Simply put, you had weathered emotional storms that he typically had much better control of. There was a sourness in his soul that had been poisoning him from the very beginning of your relationship, which you took — more often than not — in stride. As much as he felt there was no one who fully appreciated you, Alastor believed it to be a two way street. Whether there was anyone else who could take your place — paramour, caretaker, or otherwise — was inconsequential. He simply wasn’t interested in the prospect. Hadn’t he gotten along just fine in his relative solitude before you fell to suffer your infernal fate? 

It wouldn’t be the same.

It already wasn’t, in fact, which is why his feet had brought him here when his stubbornness wouldn’t. Opening the door to him was only the first step. You could still slam it in his face, effectively shutting him out; leaving him standing alone in the hall as the Overlord who owned your soul and nothing more.

He found it to be a dreadful prospect.

“May I come in?”

Even he could hear the exhaustion in his voice, making the question heavy in air as he watched you contemplate. Nervous fingers tapping the doorframe to the same beat as his heart before you stepped off to the side to make way for him. Alastor managed to fight the instinctual twitch at the corners of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time for smiling, despite the wave of relief he felt at your accepting of his request to enter.

As long as it takes…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You watched as Alastor practically collapsed on your sofa, massaging his temples with a single hand as he leaned back to cross his legs. Still doing his best to maintain decorum despite how worn out he was. Discontent, you shifted on your feet, not wanting to give into the pity you felt towards him too easily. 

As much as you tried to remember your anger, there was no denying the relief you felt at being near him again. Hearing his voice. And knowing he could pick up on it only made it worse. Would it ever be anything but an uphill battle for you when it came to him? Your eyes couldn’t help but look just past him to where you had fallen to the floor, left to console yourself in your shame and grief. The memory didn’t fuel what was left of your animosity, but pricked at your sadness instead, making you feel the weight of the day.

I’m so sick of this…

Alastor’s gaze followed you as you moved to take your seat next to him, picking your book up off the cushion and placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. His eyes and hand lingered on the cover as you sat down.

“I just missed the first draft,” he said quietly, static replaced with the distant sound of remembrance. Eyes never leaving your copy of A Farewell to Arms as he continued with a small, humorless laugh. “I was eligible for the others but the only Divisions I could have been placed in were booked. Funny, isn’t it, a quota on the worthiness to die at war? But I suppose that’s a conversation for another time…”

The glimpse of his human life caught you off guard. Vulnerability wasn’t something you expected from him, especially not in the wake of your argument; the admission was given so casually you couldn’t help but soften just a bit, leaving you hungry for more of his secrets. 

He turned to you then, somehow looking even more tired than he had before. “We have our own battle to rectify, don’t we?”

You sighed and positioned your body to face him, bringing your legs up to sit criss-cross. This was shaping up to be a long night, so you decided you might as well get this out of the way. Even managing to get a piqued eyebrow out of him from the sober look that was no doubt on your face as you considered what you were about to say. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I enjoyed our…,” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

Our what? 

Things had become so muddled you weren't quite sure what to call it. Sex, obviously, but… it had felt like more to you in the end. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that it wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a one night stand at best — and had spent the whole week drowning your sorrows trying not to think about the worst.

“I know you weren’t.” He said it in almost the same tone when you had admitted it in the first place, but his eyes were soft. “I enjoyed it myself, the second time. I thought that was obvious, but when you asked about the pheromones that morning… they had nothing to do with it. Not that evening. I… initiated that. Which is why I was so incensed by the implication that I was acting outside of myself.”

The confession sunk to the bottom of your stomach. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming and even keeled regarding it. And while you felt relief that the pheromones weren’t at play that evening — and that he had not only enjoyed, but desired it — you didn’t miss the implication of the words he kept to himself regarding how you ended up in this mess in the first place. The more you thought about it, the more you were beginning to understand why he felt the way he did. Was that why he had returned you to your room to wake up alone, because being in his bed was too much of a reminder? Had he really regretted it that much? 

Because you didn’t.

The truth was you had been more than willing to give yourself to him that afternoon. Yes, you knew something wasn’t quite right, but you didn’t know he was fighting against Valentino’s nasty little trick. You’d never know what would’ve happened if you had denied him instead, because that’s not what happened. Would he have gone into a rage? In the state he was in, that wasn’t an impossibility. In fact, that was what you had been expecting, wasn’t it? In a way you dodged a bullet — received his affections, however intense, instead of his violence. The bruised remnants of his mark on your shoulder were a dizzying mix of both. 

Though the ferocity you received the next morning… had it been lying in wait? Using the chain on you the way he did compounded by the words he spat at you was a tough memory to forget, to the point where you wondered if you ever could. He had only punished you that way one other time, but it had been nothing compared to this. Blood burned under your cheeks as you recalled how humiliated you felt. How different would things be right now if he had just let you stay?

“Look I…,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, but resisted the urge to look away from him. “I really do understand why you’re unhappy with how things happened that afternoon but…”

Here goes nothing.

“It’s something I’ve been aware of in myself for a little while but… you don’t know how much it meant to me, being touched that way by you and how you let me touch you back it —” You wiped a tear you couldn’t stop from falling and cleared your throat, but the thick, choking feeling didn’t subside. The pinched look on Alastor’s face nearly sent you over the edge, but you couldn’t stop now that you’ve started. He needed to hear this as much as you needed to say it. “It made me really happy, if that’s even the right word for it.”

It wasn’t. But you didn’t know how else you could try to tell him how wanted and safe you felt underneath him. That no one had ever managed to turn your blood to kerosene; every bit of him the match, the bed behind you kindling. At this point it didn’t really matter that you hadn’t known him for very long. You cared about him, much more than you ever expected to, and you wanted to be near him in whatever capacity you could be. Whether that made you his errand girl or concubine, so long as you were spared from the more acidic side of his temper.

“And when I think about how much you regret it, it kills me, even though I know why you do. But… I don’t. You didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s something you’ve been worrying about. Honestly, now I can’t help but wonder if it’s the other way around…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, lightly exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve only ever gone along with my impulses and games. My behavior in this has been… unbecoming. I fear my mother would be quite ashamed, and rightfully so, but you’ve come to know me at a low point.”

Everything about him felt wrung out and far off, from his posture to the defeat in his unfiltered voice. It had been absent from the moment he asked to come inside, but for some reason was only hitting you now. Though you couldn’t fight the ache in your heart from the poor state of him, there was still more you needed to know before you could let yourself give in. No matter what subconscious queues your body was undoubtedly feeding him in the meantime.

“You say unbecoming…,” you began tentatively, worried that what you were about to ask could possibly upset him again. “Is that because of how you punished me that morning, or the toying you’ve subjected me to?”

If you had to choose, you really hoped that he’d feel apologetic for the chain. While they could be annoying, his games and tricks were mostly harmless. You had admitted to yourself not too long ago that you were even beginning to miss them. That was not a feeling you extended to the invisible leash that bound you to him, not the way it had been used then, at least.

Alastor removed the hand from his nose to meet your eyes, the speed of his movement catching you off guard. For the first time all night his eyes were clear and earnest; that steadfast, hypnotizing red you had come to seek and cherish.

“Would you accept it if I said both? By pushing you I think I may have set us up for the argument. I won’t say that what you said that morning didn’t upset me, since it did, but… Perhaps if I had given you less reason to think I was playing at another game it would have never happened in the first place.” 

His voice was soft as he held his left hand out to you, a different charge in the air as your eyes broke contact to flicker down to his open palm.

The olive branch.

There was no doubt he could hear the way your heart had picked up, nearly choking you with its fervor as you swallowed against it… and gave him your hand. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I was so humiliated that morning… I’ve been so mad at you.”

Alastor could hear the tears threatening to spill behind the statement, and he squeezed your hand before his thumb began to rub in soothing circles as you looked away from him for the first time that night. He took a quick moment to follow your line of sight and grimaced when he realized you were looking at the spot where he had treated you so harshly. There was nothing he could do to take back what he did. Regret was such an awful weight, reminding him of long nights trudging through the swamp to discard one of his victims. His mouth soured. It would seem he’d need to add your name to the list.

Things were never meant to end up this way. This… tangled.

He dared to lean forward, not that there was much distance to close on your quaint loveseat, and cupped your face with his other hand to draw your gaze back to his. The conflict in your eyes went right to his stomach with a kick — the chance that you would turn him away forever still there, but he was thankful you hadn’t rejected his touch. He really couldn’t have suffered through the empty ache in his hands for even another minute; the heat of your skin already refilling his cup.

And despite how much he wanted anything but, he knew he had to give you an out. It was only right.

“I was a brute… I can’t undo what’s been done but if you’d like me to leave you alone, I will. I’m not keen on releasing you from our contract, but I would let you leave this hotel if you wish.” The words scorched his tongue, but they were true. He would let you go if that’s what you really wanted. You deserved that chance. “It’s safer here, but I would know immediately if you faced any trouble. Well… any trouble you couldn’t handle yourself, that is. I know how capable you are.”

Alastor gave you a small smile, the first time his lips had curled up with any sincerity for days. It was the most generous offer he had ever given a soul under his heel, and your short, dry laugh in response was music to his ears. There was no bitterness in the sound, nor was there any coming from your scent, but that wasn’t an indication of what was going on in your mind. Something the Overlord needed to remind himself of more often. He took a moment to really breathe you in then, floral notes of almond warming him on the inside as your body warmed him from out. Would it be the last time he was ever surrounded by you like this? 

He didn’t know when his thumb began to absently stroke your cheek, but he loved the flush it brought to your face as you considered his words. A hint of iron gave the sweetness in the air just enough bite to make him swallow, his throat now parched and wanting. It took all he had not to close the remaining space between you, needing your answer before he would move an inch save the part of him caressing your face.

A jolt ran through him as your eyes locked onto his with a resolve that made his hair stand on edge, and he steeled himself as your lips parted to speak. Never could he have imagined that you would join the short list of people to hold his fate in their palm. And fewer still, one that he didn’t hold resentment toward having that power. There was security in your hold, not malice. Such a rare thing to stumble across even in life, let alone in this sulfurous chasm that had been home for the last near-century. As unworthy as he felt to receive it, the thought of losing it was even worse. He wasn’t in love… but it wasn’t impossible that he could be, with more time. 

If you would give it to him.

“I don’t want to leave the hotel,” you said quietly, and brought your free hand up to hold his chin in the same way he had held yours countless times. 

Alastor felt his ears lower despite how attuned they were to hear what you would say next, though the thumping in his chest didn’t help. To reach out and touch him of your own accord this way was bold, and he tried not to hone in on the bashfulness he felt burning his face. Why choose shame when he could have comfort? That was what he wanted, after all. A reprieve from The Radio Demon. There was nothing to be gained in postering, not with you. With you he could be… anything. And no matter your decision, he vowed to provide you with the same space. 

His schemes to mold you into something you weren’t fled him with every exhale of his lungs. It was a senseless desire… Remorseless murders were a dime a dozen here. Thrilling as it had been to see you decapitate that wretch with your teeth, the fact that you refused to do something akin to that again merely for the sake of it like so many others was refreshing. He could appreciate only killing with purpose. That had been his modus operandi in life, after all. Murder was a tool he now used to illicit fear and respect, though most souls here were free game to him even under his mortal code. You were not, and it had taken him much too long to acknowledge it.

“And I don’t want you to leave me alone… ever again, but…”

But…

The shakiness in your voice felt like the blade of a guillotine, hovering above his neck while he agonized over when you would let the rope loose and seal his fate.

“I don’t know if I could handle that again. The chain, your anger — ” A small sob escaped you then, tearing through him like a hurricane. 

Alastor didn’t even realize he was kissing your face until the salt of your tears registered on his tongue. Every little press of his lips an oath to never make you cry like this because of him ever again. And when your hands cupped his cheeks he only had a moment to relish in his relief, sighing against your skin before you captured his lips with yours. A familiar green glow enveloping you both as an unspoken agreement was made.

Peace.

What a magnanimous gift to receive. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Low voices pulled you out of sleep, making you aware of the cold that was beginning to sink into the front of your body. You had been so warm… so comfortable.

Safe.

More mumbling at your door as you groaned, the grievance in the sound not lost on you even in your groggy state. It wasn’t lost on Alastor either, saying something you couldn’t decipher beyond its tone of finality followed by the closing of the door.

“It’s still the middle of the night sweetheart, don’t stir.” 

You didn’t even have time to ask who was at the door before he ran a soothing hand through your hair, maneuvering himself back into place in your bed. Pressing the length of his body in close against yours as he nuzzled into your chest, humming as he found the pulse of your heart. The warm, claiming kiss he placed there sent a shiver through you, your shared embrace tightening in response. 

“What’s gotten into you? You promised you’d be good,” you mumbled, wriggling a little from the way his breath tickled your skin.

Even to yourself the warning was half-admonishing at best. But you were also just barely awake. Fingers betraying you as they lightly massaged his undercut, his contented sigh making you hide your face in his hair as if he could see the flush on your cheeks.

You’d be stronger in the morning.

Pet names and kisses like this weren’t something you were expecting to receive again so soon. It had been discussed, and you had both agreed to try and take things slow. A fresh start, of sorts. While you were used to him calling you dear, it was a term he used frequently toward other residents as well.

Sweetheart was… special.

Which he no doubt knew. Most likely saying it when he did so he could press up and relish your rapid heart like you were none the wiser.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, his words muffled by your skin. Inadvertently kissing you more due to the sheer proximity of his lips to your chest. Feeling closer to you now than he had during intimacy.

And, admittedly, cuddling in bed wasn’t exactly what you’d call taking it slow. But by the time you had finished talking — and making out on the loveseat — the two of you were so exhausted that letting him spend the night had seemed innocent enough. Like platonically sharing a bed with a friend. Though that’s not a word you would use to describe what Alastor was to you.

More than friends, not quite lovers. Beholden to each other all the same. 

“Which is why I’ll only do this… for now.”

Alastor’s words and the warning, low tone of his voice hardly registered before you felt his tongue lap at the valley between your breasts, leaving a scorching trail in its wake that made your breath hitch. The soft groan from his open mouth right over your heart only making it beat harder, pleading for more of him. His large palm splayed against your back as he pressed you against his lips to nestle and kiss and suck, as if trying to pull the frantic organ through your skin through desire alone. You gasped as the light prick of his nails between your shoulders sent a fresh shiver down your spine, ending in a warm bloom between your hips as you curled into his touch. His responding needy hum as he grazed you with his teeth making you whimper.

Stronger in the morning…

“You’re not playing fair,” you complained, but it was a pathetic attempt at a scolding. You didn’t really want him to stop. Alastor’s responding chuckle told you that he knew it, too. The sound of it making your heart ache, and you were unable to suppress the small whine from behind your closed lips as he nipped and licked at your collarbone. “I missed you so much.”

You barely managed to finish speaking when he moved up to kiss you properly, slow and sweet, hand leaving your back to cradle the crown of your head. Melting into his touch, you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth; gentle and hot, coaxing whimpers and gasps from both of you as you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 

“I missed you, too,” he said quietly, nudging your nose with his. 

Tears fell unbidden as Alastor caressed and kissed the lingering bruises from his bite, seemingly determined to make them disappear through sheer willpower. Every little touch — administered or received — was comforting in a way that you feared would leave you insatiable, but the thought that formed in your mind through the haze of affection was a reassuring one.

This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Fess up, toots.” Angel plopped down on a chair across from you, gleaming as he rested his head in his hands and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re havin’ all kinds of sleepovers now, huh?”

You nearly dropped the mug in your hands from the sudden question, and quickly looked around to see if anyone else had overheard. Not that the reconciliation was going to be secret — which would have been impossible to pull off anyway, considering how much the two of you had been moping around the hotel — but you had hoped to at least make it through the morning with the knowledge kept to yourselves. 

“That was you at the door last night, I’m assuming?” The nonchalance you were aiming for just enough to get a laugh from him. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“Just that I was checkin’ up on my girl — which he did not appreciate me callin’ ya, by the way — after missin’ the big night out. I hope I didn’t send him to bed too mad.” Judging by the smug look on Angel’s face, he knew that Alastor definitely had returned to bed at least a little ruffled. “Buuut after I heard ya wakin’ up I figured I’d save the teasin’ for another day.”

“And you started bright and early,” you quipped, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips as you went back to preparing the breakfast tray. 

“Well ya ain’t exactly bein’ subtle, what with the two mugs and all,” Angel taunted, jerking his head in the tray’s direction, “but jokes aside… I’m glad you were able to patch things up with Smiles. Who woulda thought all it’d take was an empty hotel, huh?” He gave you a wink and you narrowed your eyes at the suggestion, but he cut you off before you could even begin to ask the question forming in your mind. “Look, I gotta run, but I’m expectin’ a full report when I get back from work, capisce? Oh! Speakin’a which — guess who’s supposed to be on set tomorrow?”

It was your turn to laugh. “It’s about time that lazy bitch went back to work. Making the rest of you pick up the slack is just rude.”

You both snickered as you added the finishing touches on the tray, rounding out the coffee with some croissants and fruit. It definitely paid to be in the Princess’ circle; grapes in particular were very hard to come by. There wasn’t much time to relish in your mirth with Angel before you felt a cool, slinking tendril climb up your leg. Alastor’s shadow soon emerging over your shoulder to glare at your friend and whine in your ear.

Angel put all four of his hands up in mock defeat and pushed away from the table. “Duty calls, I get it,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, popping a grape from the tray into his mouth before making his way out of the kitchen. “Make sure the boss man knows ya got plans for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you called after him, glancing behind you as the shadow growled at the spot where Angel Dust had been. Its face reverted back to sullenness when you pursed your lips, admonishing him with only a look. Any lingering irritation dissolved as it tugged at your sleeve, urging you back upstairs, and you conceded with a sigh. “You wouldn’t even be here to come get me if it wasn’t for Angel, you know. I expect you to be nicer next time.”

The shadow nodded its head and pulled on you again, its phantom grin quickly returning when you picked up the tray and began to walk back to the elevators. Baseless hostility toward Angel aside, it was hard not to smile as you watched it flitter across the floor; pausing every few feet to materialize and look back, ensuring you were right behind it. If your theories about this creature were right, it was merely acting as an extension of the demon you were making your way back to, and he was apparently quite eager for your return. A warm rush of pride left your body tingling at the thought.

Then again… it wouldn’t do well for the two of you to be late to your sudden appointment with Rosie. Who, according to Alastor, was very anxious to see you both and had something special planned that he had nothing to do with.

Yeah, right… 

When you entered your room, you found Alastor at the loveseat still lounging in his pajamas and you scoffed, “That was a lot of urgency from someone who hasn’t gotten dressed yet.”

“Well, I had to do something. Our mutual friend was getting you off-track. I thought we took the same pleasure in this morning routine of ours, but perhaps I’m mistaken?” Alastor’s tone was light, his smile teasing as he watched the blush burn your face.

You cleared your throat as you took a seat next to him after setting down the tray and decided to change the subject. What point was there in admitting what he already knew?

“Rumor has it that Donny’s finally scheduled back to work tomorrow,” you said conversationally, helping yourself to some of the fruit.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face lit up in a hearty laugh; the ebullient sound of it making the mark he had left over your heart radiate with fondness. His face sharpened with that menacing, debonair grin as he looked down at you while you poured his coffee.

“Took him long enough to pull himself together, didn’t it? You did do quite a number on him, darling.”

You hummed, pleased with the proud look he gave you, and passed him the mug; a shock running through you as your fingers touched. Silly, considering how you had been pressed together all evening… not to mention all the other marks he left that matched the one currently throbbing between your breasts. 

Even in life, you never could have imagined something like this. Sitting in the parlor with a suitor, giggling over coffee and breakfast after an evening of whispering sweet nothings between kisses. It would be foolish to think a peace like this could last forever, but this was the afterlife. Wasn’t peace the absolution from mortality and its fickleness? As you watched Alastor sip his coffee, his free hand absently massaging the back of your neck as he hummed along to the radio, you couldn’t help but think so. 

Peace, friendship, sanctuary, love, and power.

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was home.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: a special shoutout to my darlings @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes for giving me their shoulders to lean on while i worked on this final chapter. you both have listened to me ramble off ideas and scenarios and have supported me with such patience and grace… i don’t know how i’ll ever repay you but i will never stop trying!

pps: i do have plans for an epilogue, but don’t have a timeline on it just yet… stay tuned 😌💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts , @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[srjlvr]

SEVEN ROYALTIES

“once upon a time there was a prince, who did anything he could to be with the love of his life” — park sunghoon.

park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers , one sided love somewhere into the story , heavy angst , fluff ! warnings: character’s death (not a main character) , curse words. (lmk if i missed something pls!) || NOT FULLY PROOFREAD!!

WORD-COUNT ; 5.5K+

NOTE. wow i dont even know where to start! it’s been a real while! i think like more than a month, i’m extremely sorry for being gone, school is so stressful, but i got some time to write now and honestly? i missed it so much!! hopefully you’d like this part and don’t let it fool you, just because i’ve been gone for a while doesn’t mean i’m not continuing this wonderful series!! it was also supposed to be enemies to lovers but i honestly failed miserably and idk how to define it- some mentions of sunoo’s story are dropped here too :)

“why do you always look at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i’m the most precious thing you’ve ever saw”

a few years into your childhood and you were already been told that you’re going to marry off to someone as soon as possible.

you, being the second princess and the least favorite one, had to deal with a lot of struggles through your childhood.

everyone loved your older sister more, praised her, cherished her, spoiled her, gave her whatever she wants.

you, on the other hand, had to work hard in terms of getting what you wanted.

you always looked up to your older sister, you can’t lie, you definitely understand why she’s getting all the attention to herself without even trying.

your mom is your favorite person, she’s actually your best friend.

some kids have hard time deciding what to answer when they’re being asked who’s their favorite parent, but you definitely know the answer already.

it’s your dad that never bats an eye to you, your mom however always tries to maintain her attention to both you and your sister. you’d do anything for your mom.

as much as you’re happy that you’re at least not a second option in your mom’s perspective, the king is the one who’s more dominant.

you’ve always tried to get your father’s attention, even for a mere second, but he always pushed you away, making you feel unworthy and sad.

at age six, you were forced to go with your mom to one of her friend’s kingdom, your neighbor kingdom.

everyone in royalty knows about the good friendship your kingdoms have, and they’re all surprised it still keeps on going.

royalty comes with a dangerous risk, people will always look at anything you do, and will not hesitate to attack if you happened to do something they’re not a fond of.

your kingdom suffered lots of wars, but won almost all of them.

at the very same day you were forced to go with your mom, you also met the person who finally had all their attention on you, the person who you could rely on no matter when.

“i’m y/n!” you extended your hand out with a smile.

“i’m sunghoon” he whispered and you tilt your head. he wasn’t shaking your hand and you couldn’t even hear him.

“what?”

“i’m sunghoon”

“i cant hear you!!” you shout and put your ear really close to his mouth.

“i’m sunghoon!” he shouted into your ear and you fell down while holding your ear.

“you did that on purpose didn’t you!” you pout and he laughed.

that’s when you realized his cute smile and the little dimples that grew on his cheeks.

he was cute, a cute and shy prince, you could get along perfectly with him.

and you actually did. you spent the rest of your visit just roaming around their castle.

he introduced you his six brothers, they were all very nice and funny, but only sunghoon interested you.

he told you about his interests and you told him about yours.

“i want to learn how to skate!” he said and you noticed his eyes growing in excitement while talking about it.

“it sounds really interesting!” you smiled and cheered him.

“what about you?”

“i actually don’t know” you sighed, “i want my father to pay more attention to me”

“who needs your father when you have me? i’ll be always here for you” he smiled.

“really?” you asked and he nodded, “really”

“promise me!” you held out your pinky and he locked his with yours, “i think promises are stupid, but only for you i promise to never leave you side”

“why are they stupid?”

“because sometimes you regret them, or even forget them, and you cant keep them forever”

growing up with sunghoon was something you could never explain.

having to suffer your father’s comparisons between you and your sister was something, but having to see sunghoon going through puberty was something else. scarier indeed.

the both of you were inseparable, to the point where your parents even started talking about marriage between the two of you when you were twelve.

every now and then in your teenage years, you’d come around his castle, your second home.

whenever you were pissed off with your father or just wanted some quiet, you’d find yourself going back to sunghoon, only he knew how to make you feel ten times better.

“what are you reading?” he asked you.

you were laying your head on his lap as he sat under a tree, it was a peaceful day and you wanted to enjoy some time with him.

“just some fairytale stories” you put your book on your stomach and looked at him who was already looking down at you.

“wishing it was you?” he teased.

you rolled your eyes and smacked the book on his head, “fairytales are the best!”

you returned to read the book while he kept staring at you.

“read for me” he asked and you looked at him, sharing an eye contact.

“hey”

“hm?”

“why do you always look at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i’m the most precious thing you’ve ever saw”

sunghoon coughed a bit and looked away, “just start reading please, im interested”

“the princess then took the prince’s hand and held it tightly, slowly closing the gap between them and leaning in for a kiss—“

“never mind! i’ll just go sleep” sunghoon threw you off him and laid down next to you.

“you could’ve done that nicely!” you scoffed and he laughed.

he can’t explain it, but something about you makes him feel warm and comfortable. he loves your company more than anything else in this world and there’s nothing he loves more than staring at your gorgeous face.

spending a few years together made him long for you more and more every day that he’s not next to you.

he fell in love with you, and he fell hard.

you weren’t better either, every day without sunghoon for you felt like eternity.

he’s the only person you can see your future with, the only person who loves you for who you are and the only person that has his full attention on you.

you trust him more than you trust yourself and you family members.

on royal events, you’d be acting like a married couple, shooing away the singles royals that wants to catch you.

you belong to sunghoon and sunghoon belongs to you.

“it’s nice to meet you prince sunghoon” one filthy princess introduced herself to sunghoon while you stood by his side, holding his arm.

“likewise, meet my wife, y/n” he said, clearly uninterested in the princess but as soon as he looked over his side and met your eyes a smile formed on his face.

the princess scoffed and went away, finally letting you and sunghoon laugh it off.

“did you see the way she looked at you when you said you have a wife?” you held a hand over your chest, out of breath because of the amount of air you let out.

“please, it was so funny i’ll remember it for long” he nodded and you continued making jokes about everyone around you.

you shared your first kiss with sunghoon when you were fifteen.

“i love cherry blossoms” you said as you walked together with sunghoon under the cherry blossoms.

it was one of your favorite things to do with him, walking through the long road, hand in hand.

“and i love you” he let out.

“what?”

“what?” he repeated after you.

“what did you sa-“

he cut you off with a kiss, your first kiss.

cherry blossoms fell from the trees and the wind caressed your skin.

his lips were soft, locked with your lips. it was perfect, the kind of fairytale you were always wishing you could have finally came true, with the person you loved the most.

when you parted your lips to get some air, both of you giggled and he put his forehead against yours.

“i said i love you” he smiled.

“i love you too”

regardless of the sudden confession, you decided to stay as friends, and when the both of you will feel ready, you’d try it out.

at age sixteen, your mother’s condition started to go downhill. she got sick and had to take medical exams every now and then, ever since then, you decided to spend time with her as much as you could.

“good morning mom! how are you feeling today?” you asked with a huge smile on your face when you saw your mother.

“feeling as usual, nothing new” she gave you a weak smile, “have you eaten yet?”

you shook your head, “i was at the garden after father had his daily complains over me, i needed to take some breathes”

your mother nodded and hugged you, “i’m sorry your father is like that, if being a selfish father was a competition he’d definitely win”

both of you giggled and spent a few hours together.

you never told sunghoon anything about your mother’s condition, every time he’d ask about her well-beings you’d say she’s doing well but she’s too busy with duties, and he’d suspect nothing.

at the age seventeen, your mother’s condition worsened, she had doctors around her all the time.

“hello mother” you smiled.

“y/n! good morning” she tried to smile back.

“how are you—“

“i must ask you something before it’s too late” she cut you off.

“what is it?”

“i’ve been thinking about it for a while, and it might be silly and selfish of me to ask you to do that” she sighed, “please promise me you’re going to marry sunghoon”

“what?” you asked confused.

“he’s treating you well y/n, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you happier than when you’re with him. you’re perfect for each other” she nodded, “i don’t have much time left, hearing you promising you’d marry the man who makes you the happiest, would help me leave peacefully, to know that you’re going to live the life you deserve”

“i promise mom, i promise i’ll marry him but please, you have much time left, don’t say such nonsense!”

your mother hugged you and thanked you. guess it wasn’t so well-hidden that you were in love with sunghoon.

on one of the days your father called you. before walking inside his room you rolled your eyes, what kind of a complain he has now?

“hello father” you looked at him coldly.

“y/n,” he called, “i need to ask you to do something”

“huh?” you looked over him confused, “you never ask me for favors”

“your sister is too busy with her duties, so i trust you with this one” he shortly explained.

“okay,” you nodded, “what is it?”

“i need you to come with me to visit the other neighbor kingdom—“

“but we were never on good terms with them, they’re hybe’s kingdom biggest rivals too!” you cut him off.

“they’re the only ones that can help us with your mother’s condition. we must do anything we can to help her” your father sighed, “they have a son who’s interested in you, they requested to see you too”

you shook your head, “i’m not interested in him—“

“this is the only way to help your mother!” he shout and you backed away.

“what about hybe kingdom! can’t they help in any kind of way?” you argued.

your father shook his head, “they can’t do anything about it, and they must not know about your mother’s condition”

“so going to the rival kingdom and risking your good friendship is better?”

“you’re coming with me and it’s final”

a few days before your visit in your neighbor kingdom, sunghoon came over.

before he went to search for you, he heard two servants talking about something that drawn him to it.

“did you hear about y/n’s mother’s condition?” one of them said.

“it keeps on getting worse, poor y/n! i heard she has to go to the other kingdom to ask for their help together with the king” the other replied.

“i heard they’re the only ones that could help! hybe kingdom knows nothing about it because they don’t want to bother them too much, i also heard the son of the other kingdom is interested in y/n, what about prince sunghoon!”

“poor them, i just hope she won’t end up with their son. i was rooting for y/n and sunghoon endgame”

“agree, i also heard their daughter is interested in sunghoon! this is risky” she shook her head.

“y/n is strong, she won’t marry the son i just know it” they both nodded their heads and sunghoon slowly walked back.

he refuses to believe what he just heard. y/n’s mother’s condition worsens? y/n marrying someone else? he’ll never let that happen.

“sunghoon!” you called and hugged him, “i was searching for you instead of you searching for me”

sunghoon was not responding, he was too deep in thoughts and didn’t know how to stop them.

“sunghoon?” you waved your heads in front of him and he finally came back on track.

“i was just thinking about something” he smiled.

“would you like to talk about it?” you smiled warmly at him.

how could you smile so widely when youre going through all of this?

“it’s not something that should bother you” he smiled and kissed your cheeks.

you spent the rest of the day looking out for sunghoon, he was different today, as much as he didn’t want to show it, you noticed.

the next day sunghoon found himself standing in front of his biggest rival kingdom. he never thought he’d have to step his leg into this kingdom, but he’d do anything for you as long as he could.

“park sunghoon! i’ve never thought i’d witness a hybe royal inside my kingdom!” the king teased.

sunghoon closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, “i need your help and you’re the only one that can help me” he said firmly.

“we’re rivals, why would i want to help you?”

“because i have something you want” he sighed, “i’ll be getting my kingdom sooner or later, i’ll give it to you together with my crown”

“you’ll lose your crown for something possibly stupid?”

“i need you to help princess y/n’s kingdom. the queen’s condition is getting worse. i heard you gave the best doctors that can help her”

the king laughed, “you’re doing this for y/n and not for yourself? what a stupid prince you are!”

sunghoon looked away, fighting the urge not to stab the king and fight him.

“very well, i will help in exchange of your crown”

their agreement was that the king will send his best doctors to help your mother, and as soon as sunghoon will get his crown, he’ll give it to the king. if one of them breaks the agreement, it’s off.

a few days passed, and it was supposed to be your visit day in the other kingdom, except that it got canceled.

“did you tell anyone about this visit?!” your father shout at you and you shook your head.

“how come he sent me this stupid letter saying that if we step into his kingdom he’ll declare a war!”

“i don’t know! i did nothing!” you argued.

“something stopped him, more like someone! i’m going to find out who did this!” your father roamed outside his room, slamming the door harshly and you flinched.

a week passed and your mother’s condition wasn’t doing any better, the doctors told you it was already time to say goodbye but you refused to do so, you refuse to believe you won’t be able to see your mother everyday soon.

everything was too overwhelming and stressful, you decided to go to your second home, you needed some comfort and it’s been a while since you saw sunghoon anyway.

“what are you up to?” you found him in the castle’s garden, deep in thoughts.

“just thinking about something”

“by something you mean me?” you teased and he smiled, not answering your question because the answer is quite obvious.

you then hugged him tightly, and sighed deeply as you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“is everything okay?” he caressed your back slowly.

“my mom isn’t doing well lately” you finally confessed. you had to let it all out and tell sunghoon the truth.

“she’s sick, too sick. and the last week was such a roller coaster, her condition isn’t getting better and it’s our time to say our final goodbyes, i’m not ready for that sunghoon” you sobbed, “i’m sorry for dumping it all on you and telling you all of this now when it’s late i just—“

“it’s okay” even though he already knew about your mother’s condition, he was so glad that you finally opened it up and told him, “i’m here for you”

he held you tighter than before and whispered sweet comfort words that always knew how to calm you down.

right after you left he thought about what happened.

he made a deal with the other kingdom, the king was supposed to help your mother, how come her condition worsened? something didn’t make sense to him at all.

“sunghoon!” his father called him and sunghoon rushed to the king’s room.

“yes father?”

“you’re getting married to our biggest rivals daughter and didn’t even tell us? are you out of your mind?” he shout.

sunghoon could’ve swore that in that moment his heart stopped beating, “what?” he asked in disbelief.

“the other king sent us a letter! inviting us to your wedding with his daughter! we’ve never been so humiliated, how could you betray your family?” his mother interrupted.

sunghoon shook his head, “there must be a misunderstanding—“

“how come?” the king asked, “your name is written on that letter! and it was probably sent to all the other kingdoms!!”

“what about y/n?!” his mother asked and his eyes widened.

“y/n…?”

“how do you think she’ll feel receiving that letter? huh?”

“no, no! none of this is true! you must believe me!”

“explain yourself then! we’re here waiting!” sunoo, one of sunghoon’s brother argued.

sunghoon sighed, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his fists, “y/n’s mother, the queen, her condition is getting worse. she’s been awfully sick for a few years already, i overheard their servants talking about how only the other kingdom could help her because they don’t want to bother us. so i went to them myself, i made a deal with the king that he’ll help the queen in exchange of my throne—“

“are you out of your—“

“jay! let him talk” the queen shushed him.

“yes! i was ready to give up my crown if it means i can help her in any way!” sunghoon sighed, “the king obviously did nothing and lied to me! and now apparently im ‘marrying his daughter’ you know damn well that’s never going to happen because i want to marry y/n!”

sunghoon’s mother wiped out her tears and hugged sunghoon, “i’m sorry you had to go through this, you could’ve told us—“

“i didn’t want to bother you too, this story is complicated than you think”

“what about y/n’s mother’s condition?” the king asked quietly.

“y/n said it’s been getting worse, they started to say their final goodbyes” sunghoon whispered and the room became quiet, as a respect for the queen.

“you should go to her, to check on her” heeseung suddenly spoke.

“yeah, i bet she needs someone by her side right now” jungwon added.

sunghoon nodded and with his parents’ approval he went to your kingdom.

he searched for you around and saw you staring at your garden, he smiled for himself and tapped your shoulder.

“hey” he said.

“what are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

“what?” he tilt his head, “i’m here to visit you”

“don’t you have a wedding to go get prepared to?” you scoffed, “go away park, you’re not welcomed here anymore”

sunghoon had been stabbed a few times in his life, but your words hurt him more than ten stabs at once.

“you have to listen to me i—“

“there’s nothing to explain! i got the letter, saw your name on it and it was enough for me to understand this was all a game for you” you shout, “i can’t believe i actually believed your bullshit”

“i hate you, park sunghoon” you spit out, nothing but hate is in your fierce glance at him. he just chuckled, “you don’t mean that”

“oh i do,” you nodded, “and to think that i actually promised my mom i’ll be marrying you” you chuckled in disbelief.

“looking back at that promise, i realize why you used to believe that promises are stupid” you added.

“i’m sorry” he apologized, “sorry isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

“y/n—“

“just get out, please” you were being nice, asking him to leave and pointing your hands to the door although he already knew where to go.

sunghoon didn’t want to bother you, he thought you’d probably relax in a day or two, and he’d be able to talk it out with you.

you can’t just erase all your feelings and delete all your memories after so many years, right?

as soon as he got out he went to the other kingdom, to finally get some sense into that stupid, useless king.

“park sunghoon! so nice to see you my son-in-law!” the king said and sunghoon only wanted to punch his face.

“wedding? with your daughter? son-in-law? you’re out of your fucking mind!” he spit out.

the king only laughed in his face, “why? wouldn’t you like to be my son? i’ll take good care of you”

sunghoon rolled his eyes, “the deal is canceled, you won’t get any crown or another kingdom, fix whatever you did, you ruined my life anyway and you never even helped y/n’s mother”

“oh but i feel like i haven’t ruined your life enough”

“cut it off, we both know my kingdom will finish you once we’ll declare a war”

“what makes you think that?”

“i did” another voice was heard in the room.

sunghoon’s father stepped in and put his hand on sunghoon’s shoulder.

“and i’m afraid i also know too many secrets about you, old friend” he teased, “leave my son alone, and don’t you dare ruin his life again. he did a mistake asking for your help but he did what he had to do”

sunghoon’s father then dragged him out of the kingdom back to theirs.

right after sunghoon left your room, you went out to breathe and relax your brain a bit.

how could sunghoon do this to you? everything he ever said to you, every hug, every joke, was it all a lie to him?

there must be a reason behind it, but you’re too hurt to even care about it. no reason could be enough for you right now.

you decided to focus on being next to your mother, spending her last days together and showing her the brightest side of you, you didn’t tell her anything and she didn’t suspect anything so you just left it be.

three days passed ever since you last heard from sunghoon.

you miss him, you miss everything and anything about him. you needed his comfort the most right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him.

“y/n, sunghoon is here to pay a visit” one of your servants informed you.

“tell him i don’t want to see him,” you sighed, “and tell him to take care” you whispered that line.

you refused to see him in any cost. you’re too angry to even care about his feelings right now. all you could feel is betrayal, and hurt.

in one of the next days, you went out to the garden to read some books and write on your diary.

when you got back inside the castle you saw your mother’s doctors standing with their heads down.

“we’re sorry your highness, we did everything we could” they said and couldn’t even make eye contact with you as their eyes were full with tears.

you froze there for a few minutes, you knew this day would come but could never prepare yourself enough for that. you didn’t want to believe this day would come so fast.

“please tell me i’m dreaming” you told them but they shook their heads, “we’re very sorry your—“

they got cut off when they saw you falling to the ground, sobbing and covering your eyes.

you were crying like a little child who lost their ice cream, refusing to get up and screaming at everything.

the last few days were just about you and her, she taught you everything you needed to know about life and royalty.

“you need to be a good wife to sunghoon!” she smiled.

“mom! he has to be a good husband before that!”

“you’re right! if he’s being mean tell him you’d leave him and take all of his money” she joked and you giggled.

“i don’t need money”

“you don’t, but you do need to annoy him and help him realize he’s nothing without you!”

all of those memories past by your mind all day, thinking about your dear mother, who was there for you when no one else was.

“who’s going to be by my side now, mom?” you asked quietly, “i already miss you so much”

it was dinner time in hybe’s kingdom, all seven brothers sat together with their parents.

“sunoo, we’ve found the perfect wife for you! you’re going to meet her at the ballroom on ni-ki’s birthday!! isn’t that exciting?” the queen clapped in excitement.

“yeah, very exciting!” sunoo tried to sound cheerful, but failed miserably in sunghoon’s eyes.

he pitied his younger brother for being the only one who’s being forced to someone he doesn’t even know.

sunoo explain multiple times to his parents that he wants to marry someone out of love, and that he believes that when it’s time, he’ll meet the one for him. but his parents turned deaf to his thoughts.

“i already met her once, she’s really pretty! the perfect pair for you!”

“your highness” a few servants came into the room and interrupted the dinner.

“is it important? we’re having dinner right now—“

“queen (name) of (name) kingdom is no longer with us” the servants lowered their heads as a respect and the king got up from his seat instantly.

sunghoon’s eyes widened, he was left speechless and froze in his place.

“we’ll be going to pay our respects tomorrow morning together, prepare yourselves” the king said and left the dining room.

sunghoon didn’t know what to do. it has already been a week and he’s been trying to reach out to you, but you rejected him every time.

he sent you letters but didn’t get any back. he was hopeless.

what is he supposed to do now? he didn’t even say his last goodbye to his mother-in-law.

the next day, you received loads of letters from loads of kingdoms, thanking the queen for her service and mourning her death.

hybe’s kingdom however, came personally to comfort you and the rest of your family.

the king and the queen, and six of their children. yes, only six of them. one of them was missing.

park sunghoon didn’t come to comfort you.

“we’re very sorry to hear the devastating news, the queen was the kindest soul we’ve ever got to meet” the king shook your father’s hands and pat his back.

the six sons came to you and hugged you. you hugged them back and broke down. the six sons already became your brothers long time ago, you felt safe around them.

“we’re sorry y/n, we’re here for you now” heeseung, the oldest one said with a comforting smile.

as much as you were thankful for them, you were hoping to see a certain person, a person who didn’t even bother showing up.

it only added up to your anger on him, how could he do that? what happened to always being there for you?

“sunghoon felt a bit sick and unwell today, he couldn’t get up from his bed, he really wanted to come” the queen smiled weakly at you and you returned the smile.

you spent the rest of the day with your six brothers, completely forgetting about your father and sister, they were here to comfort you and be with you.

“sunoo,” you called out, “hm?” he answered quietly.

“is sunghoon really sick?” you asked and he nodded, “i think the news about your mother caught him off guard, he couldn’t even speak after he heard the news”

you pressed your lips together and nodded, “please wish him well, i hope he’ll get better as soon as possible”

“i will do that” he smiled warmly at you.

just because you’re hurt by him, doesn’t mean you don’t care about him. he still holds a big place in your heart.

the next days passed by slowly, you spent most of your time in your room, sometimes even refusing to get out for a whole day.

sunghoon crossed your mind every day. your last words to him crossed your mind every day too.

you said you hate him, but you lied. you love him, you love him too much that it hurts.

you feel too betrayed and hurt by him but it’s somehow the last thing that interests you.

you just need to see him and hug him. but your ego wouldn’t let you.

so you waited for him to fight for you, you knew he’d try again, and again, and again, that’s just the person that he is.

after a while of isolating yourself in your room, you decided to get out and read some books.

that’s what your mom would want you to do, to move on and start a new life.

as you were reading your book, you heard a familiar voice calling you.

“y/n,” your heart skipped a beat. you were too scared to turn around and see the person you were so hoping to see for so long.

“please tell me you’re not who i think you are” you breathed slowly.

“i’m sorry” he let out.

you finally decided to turn around and you met his eyes. it’s been a while since you last saw him, you missed staring at his beautiful face, and his beautiful moles that made his face look ten times better, his kissable lips that always felt soft against yours, you missed everything about him.

“please,” he whispered, “please hear me out this time”

you blinked a few times, still not believing that he’s actually in front of you.

“you didn’t show up when i needed you the most, you betrayed me and lied to me, why would i listen to any of your excuses now?” you argued, but deep down you wanted to hear him so badly.

“y/n please” he pleaded, “just listen to what i have to say, and it’s up to you wether to believe it or not, just please, i don’t want us to break apart without you hearing the reason behind it”

you let out a few tears to fall and slowly nodded, he was right, you never let him to explain himself, you were too selfish and cared about your feeling that you didn’t even care about his.

he told you the whole story from the start, and you were sobbing your heart out.

“i’m sorry,” you let out, “i’m sorry for refusing to listen to you, i’m sorry for rejecting you so many times, i’m sorry for telling you that i hate you—“

“stop apologizing stupid,” he chuckled, “it’s over now isn’t it? we’re even now right?”

“it’s over now, promise me you won’t ever hide from me something like that again” you extended out your pinky.

“but you said that promises are stu—“

“not when it comes to you” you smiled.

instead of locking his pinky with you he cupped your face and pulled you into a kiss.

“i love you y/n, i’m sorry it took me a while to get back to you” he whispered.

“i love you too sunghoon, im sorry for rejecting you multiple times” you giggled.

“finally! get married already and leave this kingdom please!” you heard your sister in the back.

“i’m sorry that my sister can’t be a bit more like your brothers” you awkwardly smiled and sunghoon laughed.

“she’s right though, let’s get married as soon as possible and get our own kingdom” he pecked your lips.

“IN TWO DAYS??”

“well you said you wanted to get married as soon as possible! i already planned everything!” sunghoon’s mother smiled and hugged the both of you.

“can’t say i’m not biased, i’ve been shipping the two of you ever since you both met” the king added.

“are they gonna have babies as soon as possible now too?”

“NI-KI!!!!”

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[a-boca-do-inferno]

SFW ALPHABET (caesar x human!reader) [request]

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

words: 3.4k

notes: damn this took me forever cause i was rly feeling it jdfkj anyways i hope you enjoy!

Affection; how affectionate is he?

Caesar is possibly the most affectionate among his peers without a doubt, yet he still would seem somehow “colder” by human standards—mostly because of the different ways apes show any type of affection at all. Being a leader is a big part of who he is, after all, and ever so often that means putting aside personal preferences to be fair for everyone and on top of that, you are human. The ape king has to maintain a certain level of diplomacy when you two are in public as to not stir up unpleasant situations within the colony, a large part of them orchestrated by the likes of Koba, of course.

“He’s trouble.” That’s what Caesar signs to you one time, whilst you both watch over the sleeping apes from his home. The frown on his features is there; unchanging. “Gotta be careful. Fair.”

And you can’t blame him for that. Still, among what it all means for him to show any preference towards you in the public eye, being alone in your place or his is another matter entirely. The king is very touchy, always making sure to wrap a protective arm around your belly while you’re doing some task he couldn’t care less about at that moment. His thick fingers brush your midriff idly, his face nuzzling into your shoulder to get his fill of you for the day; almost like you’re a drug and it’s time for his fix. The element of taboo because of your different species, such a hard pill he has to swallow every day, in that specific position only serves to fuel his desire for you on astronomical levels. He’s completely, helplessly addicted to you.

Best friend; what would he be like as a best friend?

Caesar’s got one of those personalities where it doesn’t matter the relationship he has to you, there’s this unshakeable sense of understanding and security he transpires naturally, along with his obvious need to protect you at all costs, which is arguably shaped by his past experiences with the death of loved ones. Have you ever heard of the term “mom friend”? That is the ape king, all the way. His overprotectiveness might feel overwhelming sometimes, that’s true, but his good intentions are so painfully clear, you simply can’t bring yourself to stay mad at him for long. Not when he tries to win you over with gifts and whatnots; bringing you food when he’s out hunting, handcrafting those flower crowns you love so much, even going as far as confessing his feelings to you through a formal apology, pulling you softly by your elbow after you had supper so you can talk in private.

“How… are you?” Caesar will rasp, his green eyes sweet like honey when directed at you, and that look is all you need to know he’s silently recognizing he was a bit too much earlier—as usual. You cave immediately many times, because there’s no safer place in the world than his furry self holding you tightly, securely, as you fall asleep in his nest.

Cuddles; does he like to cuddle?

Absolutely yes! It’s his favourite time of the day. After so much work with the council, trying to figure out strategies to make apes’ resources last for the whole winter, there’s nothing else Caesar would rather be doing than laying down with you and pressing his body close to yours, cherishing your natural heat. He can’t get enough of your softness, hugging you tight almost like you’re his own personal plushie, his nose rubbing against your neck as he inhales your scent, enjoying every second to the fullest.

“Clingy”, you purr every time, to which the king only huffs, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder even further.

Domestic; does he want to settle down? how is he at cooking and cleaning?

Caesar is very responsible with chores in general, so his home is always neat. He’s definitely a domestic man, preferring the comfort of his own place rather than staying out too much—he loves his community too, of course, yet he’s got a quiet and more tranquil personality—so that’s why he’s invested in caring for his turf. As for cooking, the most he can do is human food, which isn’t so accessible nowadays, but Caesar can hold his ground making an improvised stew when it’s cold.

Also, another one of his favourite times of the day is when you two are in silence at home, just appreciating each other’s company after supper while you groom him in bed. It’s something he’s grateful for; he never asked for it, yet you decided you wanted to socialise and become closer to him through his culture, ape culture, and the king gladly let you do the deed.

Ending; if he had to break up with his mate, how would he do it?

Quite transparently—would casually ask you to join him alone for a serious conversation and lay all cards on the table. Caesar is very mindful with his words and how he says them, watching his tone, his expression, careful not to hurt you more than the absolute necessary. Ultimately, if he ever had to break up with you, it probably wouldn’t have anything to do with lack of sentiment from his part, but rather the impracticality of having a relationship with a human while being an ape—the king, no less. All his decisions are inevitably rational, always in favour of the greater good and in order to maintain harmony in the colony. Even at the expense of his own happiness, no matter how much it would hurt him, and so he’d definitely find the best way to tell it like it is whilst also being the most gentle he could manage.

Fiancé; how does he feel about commitment?

Caesar’s a marriage kinda guy, yep. Being brought up with humans undeniably influenced the way he sees relationships in general and to be honest, he never really felt like his way of approaching the topic fit with the way apes do it, although he’s not talked about it out loud to anyone. Primate culture revolves around utility of a mate and it’s often not monogamous per se, albeit there are some known jealous apes in the group—him included, despite never admitting it to himself either. The usual dynamic is simply a no-no for him, especially with you. He wants it all: the wife, the children, the pets. All he’s entitled to.

Gentle; how gentle is he, both physically and emotionally?

Caesar can be a tough cookie, we all know that. Of course, that is due to the fact he’s the leader and with his responsibilities, among them lie the aching need to appear strong all the time—however, when in your presence, all of that just melts away. You cause him to feel comfortable and safe to be soft and he indulges in that foreign feeling of vulnerability more often than not, allowing himself to relax and let his guard down, if only for brief moments. Physically, it may come as no surprise that the king is ripped. Not sure if it’s genetics or what, but he’s very strong and you feel his strength in all its glory when Caesar is pushing you down against your nest at night. Heh.

Hugs; does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

Not the biggest hugger in general. The king is cuddly, yes, but on his own terms, on very specific times—when you’re both alone. Normally, Caesar prefers to keep any public displays of affection at a minimum, which isn’t to say he won’t hug you back if you come to hold him; he just won’t initiate it himself. He’s a bulky ape, and so being held by him feels quite literally like being snuggled into a bear hug, your face smashed against his furry, firm chest, his thick arms enveloping you and heating you up almost instantly.

I love you; how fast does he say the L-word?

He says it back immediately after you mention it, as it ignites a memory long lost in his brain. A moment when he was a child and Will silently cooed it into his ear, trying to soothe him after he got worked up and attacked the neighbour that one time. 

“(y/n) loves… Caesar.” He repeats, his voice raspy, green eyes watching you intently as he tilts his head, processing your words and slowly understanding what they truly mean. You nod with a faint smile and he hoots, bringing your foreheads together. “Caesar loves… (y/n).”

Jealousy; how jealous does he get?

Caesar’s unsurprisingly very possessive. He does try to keep it in check for your sake, most of the time, but also because he is a pacifist at heart—though no amount of peace inside the king would ever make him turn the other way whenever his gaze falls on you with another male a little too close. The scowl is inevitable and his nostrils flare, something deep in his gut burning, eating away at his stomach. Anger.

“(y/n)”, he calls—orders, his tone authoritative, his look and signing sharp, such a rare sight from him when talking to you. 

And with the slight huff at your direction, you already know what’s going on and make no fuss about it, politely excusing yourself and leaving the male’s side, approaching Caesar obediently. He stands tall in front of you, still frowning, and puts your body behind his, hissing at the stranger from a distance, his fangs showing in a threatening manner. Nothing much to happen from there, besides everyone around getting the message and dutifully going about their way, preferably away from you.

Kisses; what are his kisses like?

Shy and rough. Caesar does know humans kiss to show their love toward one another, after seeing it happen so much between Will and his girlfriend—but he has a silent insecurity concerning your different anatomies, since your lips are so distinct from his own, so much smoother and smaller, which prompts him to feel too self-conscious and overly alert at the possibility to hurting you with his fangs on accident. He does love receiving your kisses, though, even more so than giving them, readily sheltering himself in your arms as you run a hand through his furry head and pepper him with affection all over his face. His quiet grunts are enough to tell you the king’s not getting out of your embrace anytime soon, if he can help it.

Little ones; how is he around children?

Caesar’s got a naturally soothing presence, even around the most feisty baby apes. He’s overprotective of the little ones too, although not scolding them too roughly as he’s learned this approach was hardly ever effective with Blue Eyes when the prince was younger. His relationship to the young often revolves around his wise counselling—whether they asked for it or not, the kiddos just have to deal with papa Caesar going on and on about some life lesson when they just want to go out and play up in the trees already.

Morning; how are mornings spent with him?

Caesar’s an early bird, so he’s always up first. He’s got a habit of watching you as you sleep, revelling in the sound of your soft and steady breath, his green eyes observing attentively as your chest rises and falls. His routine is what keeps him grounded, and so he grabs some breakfast for you both and gently wakes you to accompany him in the meal before he’s off to his duties in the colony. Sometimes you two chat, other times you eat in silence and meet again at lunch, in the communal spot all the apes gather around. 

Night; how are nights spent with him?

Quietly—again, no surprise there. When Caesar’s not feeling too sexy, it’s often because the king’s very tired, so he refrains from talking a lot and simply enjoys your comforting presence. On good days he will talk about something funny that happened while hunting, and on bad days, his complaints will concern some dispute raised by troublemakers like Koba and his followers. You try your best to soothe his nerves in those moments, reassuring him of the trust the apes have in him not to fall for anyone’s opposition to his guidance, which he’s grateful for, too. It’s nice for him to feel like someone, you, will follow him no matter what. Gives him a sense of security he desperately needs.

Open; when would he start revealing things about himself?

You’d have to ask a lot at first, and not even with the promise of getting straight answers every time you do, despite your best efforts. Caesar’s obviously not an open book and even when he does talk about himself, more so about his old life with humans, you usually have to jump through hoots to interpret his philosophical riddles on your own—sometimes you even think he’s fucking with you on purpose, but you don’t mention it, not wanting to fight for such a small thing. Still, you are the only one who could ever question him as much as you do and not get completely ignored, anyway. He’s got a soft spot for you.

Patience; how easily angered is he?

Not very easily. Caesar’s got his head in the right place mostly—he only ever gets angry when it’s something serious concerning his family directly (you, Blue Eyes, Cornelius) and since he’s always silently making sure that you’re all cared for, it is indeed a rare sight to see him irritated. He does get mildly annoyed whenever you’re teasing him about his jealousy, yet it’s nothing compared to how he behaves when he’s feeling really possessive, as stated before.

Quizzes; how much would he remember about you?

A good amount, actually. Caesar will randomly mention some small detail about you that you didn’t even remember telling him in the first place; some things he says are even just his own conclusions he draws from little pieces of information you provide here and there, and they’re usually pretty accurate, which never fails to amaze you. It only serves to show how intelligent the ape king truly is.

Remember; what is his favourite moment in your relationship?

Possibly the first time Caesar understands you like him—more than a platonic feeling. At that point, though you two had become very close, there had always been this little voice inside saying that it couldn’t be really possible, not even in his wildest dreams. Whatever would you have seen in him, an ape? Sure, it was obvious you’d much rather be around him than any other male in the colony, and sure, you mentioned time and time again how glad you were for his presence as you knew apes had their shortcomings with humanity, and he insisted on integrating you into their world at the best of his ability, regardless. Yet the king never once considered those words anything more than you just being your sweet self. Clueless ass.

“I see it.” Maurice commented one night, signing toward your figure a few rocks down. Caesar eyed his friend slightly puzzled, waiting for him to finish his thought, and the ginger grunted, “how (y/n) looks at Caesar.” He points at the ape king’s chest. 

And Caesar could only scoff, huffing and shaking his head, his hands gesturing rapidly, “Maurice… confused.” His deep voice mocks, to which the orangutan merely shrugged, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

And Maurice was right, as he often was.

Security; how protective is he?

Homeboy’s a bit paranoid, not gonna lie. But can you blame him? Being constantly in a state of war with other humans lurking around, trying to harm his colony and his family, along with the petty quarrels between the apes themselves, surely take its toll on the ape king’s state of mind. Your fights about the topic are very frequent because of that, precisely—whenever Caesar’s more stressed than usual, he’ll give you shit for going out hunting with Blue Eyes or Rocket, no matter how much he trusts them to protect you. In his mind, you’re only safe around him and him only. That’s something you’re both still working on.

Try; how much effort would he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

Caesar is a very caring mate and likes to flaunt it a bit. He would put his best into quick getaways from the hustle of the colony, making sure to plan something special just for the two of you next to the river, arranging a meal with your favourite fruit on display. He is also be very thoughtful with gifts, getting something personalised just for you like the head accessories you like to wear occasionally. The king is very reliable and diligent, always doing his part to maintain the relationship and keep things running smoothly, it’s just part of his leading nature to sort of take control over things. 

Ugly; what would be some bad habits of his?

Heavy is the head that wears the crown and with Caesar, apart from the responsibilities he’s got to live with, there’s also the never leaving stubbornness. The king has a sense of arrogance and a feeling of superiority that’s honestly not unexpected for someone in his position—he’s only ape, after all. A lot of arguments happen because of his inflexibility, and they usually concern colony affairs that sometimes you two disagree with, which causes a bit of tension when the power dynamics come into play in your relationship. If he’s the king and you’re his mate, then what does that make you, when you’re not even “publicly” acknowledged as such? It’s a tricky question that even Caesar can’t quite answer whenever you ask. 

Vanity; how concerned is Caesar with his looks?

His vanity arises when you two start your relationship officially. Caesar’s not so much concerned with how he looks, but rather how you perceive him, if he’s attractive to you given your different species and anatomy, and that is as far as it will go. He’s got more important matters to attend to than caring about how others—beside you—see him, either physically or otherwise. 

Whole; would he feel incomplete without you?

Yeah. Caesar’s a big softie inside and he feels something for you that is not even comparable to how he felt with Cornelia before—it’s so much more intense and consuming. It’s like you’ve become his very oxygen. Without you everything else seems so dull, colourless, lifeless. Even your silence is different from everybody else’s, the way you blink, the way you shift slightly in your spot beside him. When he can’t smell you around, it’s like the king unconsciously knows he’s too far away from home, and it almost feels unsafe for him to dare exist in that condition. And Caesar doesn’t even think much about it, there’s simply this… strangeness whenever you’re not there. This emptiness. A sense of nothingness that silently terrifies him when he does think of it for more than a second.

Xtra; a random headcanon for him.

Caesar’s a serious guy, it’s his default, but he just loves making you laugh. He’s often finding ways to goof around in his own manner, which only makes it funnier and more endearing to you, seeing this enormous, grumpy ape trying to make jokes for the sole purpose of seeing you smile. He’ll do it anywhere, anytime, with anything he can find close; holding up blueberries to his eyes’ level and making ridiculous faces, hooting and acting like some random goofy monkey, scratching his sides and screeching, sometimes even going as far as joking about giving you his “banana” later on.

You chuckle softly at his antics, bringing him closer into a gentle hug that he gladly accepts, letting out faint hoots at your familiar touch. “You’re so silly.” You murmur between laughs, and the ape king can’t get enough of that sound. It’s music to his ears.

Yuck; what are some things he wouldn’t like, either in general or in a mate?

Recklessness is the way to make Caesar lose it. He can’t help it, he’s got the fatherly and overly responsible thing going on all the time. That’s something he also has to come to terms with when being around you—he’s not sure if it’s human behaviour or if he’s just too much of an uptight ape himself, but you’re someone who seems to like toying with his patience like no one else does. He feels like he’s being tested, at times.

Zzz; what is a sleep habit of his?

Caesar’s a simple guy. He typically sleeps either on his side or on his back and prefers cuddling you from behind, no matter the position he’s in. The king may also occasionally grunt or make other soft sounds in his sleep, but they are generally not loud enough to wake you in his arms.

[the-writing-trash-panda]

So with the release of 100yg anime I’ve gotten excited about writing Fairy Tail fics again. Here’s a sneak peek at one I’m currently working on.

Title: A Dragon’s Heart is True

Description: All dragon slayers possess the abilities and traits of a dragon; this includes an aggressive possession over something, or rather someone. This trait manifests as a fierce protectiveness and unyielding loyalty to the person or object they have claimed. The bond is almost primal, driven by an instinctual need to guard and cherish their “hoard”.

No one knows how this bond is formed. Whether it’s fate or something that grows over time, the connection between the dragon slayer and their chosen is undeniable. Once the bond is established, it is nearly impossible to break. The dragon slayer becomes fiercely dedicated, willing to go to great lengths to ensure the safety and well-being of their chosen, even at the cost of their own life.

This bond is not always welcomed by the person on the receiving end. The protectiveness can feel overwhelming, even suffocating, to those who are unaccustomed to such intense devotion. Yet, for others, it is a source of great comfort and security, knowing they have someone who will always stand by their side, come what may. The relationship between a dragon slayer and their chosen is complex, a delicate balance of power, trust, and understanding, forged in the heat of battle and tempered by time.

Ships: Nalu, Gajevy, Miraxus, Rowen, Kinabra, Stingyu, Rogura

Chapter One: The Awakening

Lucy awoke to the pleasant sound of chirping birds and the early morning hum below her apartment. She closed her eyes again, a content smile on her face as she just soaked it all in. Ever since joining Fairy Tail her life had been filled with adventure and chaos but at least she had one constant source of peace. Waking up in her own place, enjoying the morning rays, and although it had been annoying at first she had the comfort of Natsu holding her close as if to protect her. Of course, Mirajane and Lisanna would constantly tease her saying something or other about her and Natsu acting like a couple, and yes part of her wished that was true but Lucy knew that her feelings for Natsu were a complex mix of admiration, friendship, and something more. She had long since accepted that their relationship was one of deep, unspoken understanding rather than the romance her friends seemed to wish for. As she stretched and rose from her bed, she glanced at Natsu, who was still fast asleep beside her. His presence was a reassuring comfort, even if they hadn’t defined what exactly they were to each other.

Lucy tiptoed to the kitchen, determined to make a quiet breakfast so she wouldn’t disturb him. The soft clinking of dishes and the aroma of brewing coffee soon filled the apartment. She couldn’t help but smile as she thought about how these moments of peace were the calm before the next whirlwind of adventures and missions. Yet, amidst all the chaos, it was these simple, quiet mornings that she cherished the most. Ahh yes, everything was perfect; for about fifteen minutes. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of scratching on the walls. She could feel her eye twitch as she tried not to lose her mind. One of these days she was going to kill that stupid cat.

“Happy, I swear, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to find you a new home far away from me,” Lucy grumbled, glancing towards the source of the noise. She knew it was futile to get upset with Happy, but the cat’s relentless scratching was starting to wear on her nerves. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. She dished up some food and placed it on the table for Natsu and Happy before heading over to the bathroom for a shower.

After her shower, she dressed quickly and returned to the kitchen. To no surprise at all, Natsu was already awake, sitting at the table and devouring the food in front of him. His eyes lit up with his characteristic enthusiasm as he spotted her.

“Morning, Lucy! This tastes amazing!” he exclaimed, diving into the food with his usual gusto.

“Good morning, Natsu. I already ate so I’ll meet you guys at the guild. I promised Levy I would help her translate something this morning.” Lucy grabbed her bag and put on her jacket, ready to head out.

Natsu’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, right! I forgot you had plans. Well, we’ll see you there then.”

Lucy waved goodbye and made her way to the guild, enjoying the crisp morning air. She couldn’t deny that Magnolia was beautiful during the early spring months. As Lucy walked towards the guild, she couldn’t help but think about the many ways her life had changed since joining Fairy Tail. The bustling streets of Magnolia were lively with people starting their day, the occasional sight of other mages heading to or from their missions adding to the vibrant energy of the town.

When she arrived at the guild hall, she was greeted by the usual chaotic atmosphere. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of magic filled the air. Levy was already waiting for her at a table, surrounded by a pile of ancient texts.

“Good morning, Lu!” Levy called out with a bright smile. “Thanks for coming. I’m really struggling with these translations, and I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

Lucy smiled back at Levy, settling into the chair beside her. “Good morning, Levy! Let’s see what you’ve got.” She took a look at the texts, quickly immersing herself in the complex symbols and ancient language.

As they worked, the guild’s lively atmosphere continued around them, with people coming and going, and the usual banter filling the air. Despite the constant buzz, Lucy found a surprising calm in the task at hand. It was a welcome contrast to the previous day’s chaos and a reminder of how much she enjoyed these quieter moments with friends. About half an hour later Natsu and Happy arrived at the guild soon getting into another stupid fight with Gray and Gajeel. Yep, this was Lucy’s normal but she really couldn’t imagine her life any other way.

Around noon Mirajane approached the other two girls carrying a tray of food. Setting it down she sat across from them her friendly smile still present. “Here you two go, you’re both working so hard and I don’t want you to forget to eat.”

Levy’s eyes lit up at the sight of Mirajane’s food. “Thank you, Mira! This looks amazing.”

Mirajane chuckled softly. “I’m glad you like it. It’s always nice to see you both working so diligently. Besides, I know how easy it is to get lost in these texts and forget to take a break.”

Lucy took a bite of the food and nodded in agreement. “This is great, Mirajane. Thanks for bringing it.”

“Oy hot stuff, where’s our food?” A voice rang out across the guild hall. Mira’s smile fell as she let out an annoyed sigh. Lucy looked over at the group of wizards that had been passing through town. A guest in the guild hall wasn’t a rare occurrence but one that showed little respect was, and it usually didn’t end well for them.

“Well, I better get going. You two have fun,” Mira said standing up and grabbing the empty tray. However, before she could even begin to walk back to the bar the visitors were struck by a bolt of lightning falling on the ground unconscious. “Oh Laxus, I didn’t know you were back.” Lo and behold up on the balcony stood the lightning dragon slayer glaring down at his victims. Lucy glanced up at Laxus, his presence commanding attention and respect. She couldn’t help but smile, knowing that his sudden appearance usually meant trouble for someone. Laxus had always been a force to reckon with, but his loyalty to Fairy Tail was unwavering, and his occasional interventions were his way of keeping order.

By late afternoon Lucy and Levy had finished most of the translation, only having one book left. The only information they had on it so far was that it was about dragon slayer magic and was written back when the magic was first created. “Alright, I think we did some pretty good work today. I’ll take this home and see if I can figure something out before we continue tomorrow. Thanks for your help, Lucy,” Levy said, stretching and packing up her things before grabbing Gajeel’s attention and leaving. Lucy finished packing up her own things and headed towards the guild’s exit. The day had been productive, and she was looking forward to a quiet evening at home. As she walked towards the door, she noticed Natsu and Gray still in the middle of a heated argument, their voices rising above the general noise of the guild hall. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile, some things would never change. Lucy shook her head with a chuckle as she made her way out of the guild hall. The familiar sight of Natsu and Gray arguing was a comforting reminder of the family she’d found in Fairy Tail. It was these kinds of moments that made her appreciate her life, even with all its chaos.

After a relaxing dinner and a comforting bath, Lucy found herself on her couch enjoying a new book while Natsu and Happy played a card game on the floor. She had almost forgotten about that last book until Levy called her and excitedly told her to come to her place. Lucy quickly made her way out of the apartment, dragging Natsu and Happy with her. When they arrived Lucy knocked on the door impatiently. Gajeel answered the door clearly upset that his evening was being disturbed. Lucy didn’t care and just pushed past him and joined Levy in the living room.

“What're you doin’ here Salamander,” Gajeel grumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he shut the door behind them.

“Lucy made me. Trust me I don’t want to see your ugly mug more than necessary either,” Natsu retorted, sticking his tongue out at Gajeel.

Levy, ignoring their bickering, held up the book they had been working on. “Lucy, you won’t believe this! I think I’ve found something new in this book.”

Lucy’s eyes widened with curiosity as she took a closer look at the ancient book Levy held. “Really? What did you find?”

Levy beamed with excitement. “It’s an old legend about the origins of dragon slayer magic, but there’s more. There’s a section here that talks about some kind of bond between a dragon slayer and their chosen. I still haven’t figured out what a ‘chosen’ is, I was hoping you would have some ideas.”

Lucy's interest was piqued as she scanned the old text Levy had been poring over. The legend about the bond between a dragon slayer and their chosen intrigued her. She'd read many myths and ancient stories since joining Fairy Tail, but this one felt different. Perhaps it was because of the personal connection she felt with Natsu and the other dragon slayers in the guild.

"Hmm, a 'chosen'... It could mean many things," Lucy mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe it's someone the dragon slayer forms a deep connection with, or perhaps it's related to their magic somehow."

Levy nodded eagerly. "That’s what I was thinking! But it’s all so vague. There are a few references to rituals and ancient ceremonies, but the language is so archaic, it’s hard to decipher the exact meaning. Do you two know, I mean you are dragon slayers.”

Natsu and Gajeel glanced at each other unsure just how much to share. Yes, they knew about the chosen, how could they not? The problem was that it wasn’t as simple as the girls were making it out to be. Natsu scratched his head, looking thoughtful. “Well, we know a bit about it, but it’s not something we talk about much. The whole idea of a ‘chosen’ is pretty personal and complicated. It’s not something we’ve really delved into.”

Gajeel grunted in agreement. “Yeah, it’s not exactly common knowledge. Even for us dragon slayers, it’s more about instinct than something we sit down and study. It’s kinda like that thing in ‘er cheesy books.”

Levy’s eyes widened as she caught on to what Gajeel was implying. “You mean, like a soul mate?”

Natsu looked uncomfortable with the comparison, while Gajeel just shrugged. “Sort of. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yeah, something like that. It’s not always clear-cut, and it’s different for each dragon slayer.”

Lucy, however, was fascinated. The idea of a deeper connection tied to dragon slayer magic intrigued her. She glanced at the book again, her mind racing with possibilities. “If the ‘chosen’ is something akin to a soul mate, then it could explain why dragon slayers have such strong bonds with certain people. So how do you guys know who your chosen is?” Natsu and Gajeel exchanged glances, both somewhat uneasy about delving into such personal matters. Natsu cleared his throat before speaking up.

"Well, it’s not like there's a manual for it or anything," Natsu said slowly. "It's more of a feeling, you know? It’s like you just know, and it’s not always something you can explain easily. It’s a connection that goes beyond words."

Levy turned back to the book eager to know more. “This says something about possessive behavior and the need for protection. Could that be related to the bond you’re talking about?”

Natsu nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that makes sense. Dragon slayers often feel a strong need to protect those they care about, and it can be pretty intense. It’s like there’s this inherent drive to keep them safe, no matter what.”

Gajeel added, “And it’s not just about protection, either. There’s a sense of loyalty and devotion that comes with it. It’s a part of the bond that’s hard to put into words but is deeply felt.”

Levy scribbled notes furiously, her excitement palpable. “This is incredible! If we can piece together more about this bond, it might give us insights into dragon slayer magic that we’ve never had before.” As soon as she started she stopped and looked up at Gajeel in curiosity. “I’m your chosen right?”

“Gee hee, course you are pipsquke. What, worried I’m gonna leave you for another woman?” Gajeel smirked at Levy’s playful jab, his tone light despite the serious discussion they were having. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

[shanksbaby]

Kuzan x Reader - Betrayal

You are also part of SWORD like Koby, Tashigi, Helmeppo and Hibari, tired of overlooking the crimes of some pirates because they suited the World Government. And so you too are part of the expedition to rescue the pink-haired boy from the clutches of Teach and his crew.

When Garp asked you to join the expedition, you knew it would be an arduous mission given the power of the new Emperor and you were ready for anything-or at least you thought you were ready for anything.

You were not ready, in fact, to see among the ranks of Blackbeard's pirates your old mentor, the one you always loved but never confessed your love to, the one for whom you shed tears…Kuzan, or better known as Aokiji

You're next to Garp and Koby when it happens, when you watch Hibari being frozen at his hands…You can hardly believe it when you see him, you notice some changes right away: he's grown some stubble and has become thinner, even his style has changed (leaning more toward dark). Normally you would be taken by his new look, gushing over…but now all you can do is think about who you're actually looking at.

The old Kuzan, the Kuzan of two years ago, would never freeze a marine, and then there's a different aura around him-he seems more determined, he's not the lazy ass you've come to love.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the ex-Marine's voice, even your voice seems harder -- his hard voice. He speaks to you as if he were talking to enemies…it is the same voice he reserved for pirates when he was still an admiral " You fools…What do you think you have done?"

You are motionless, no words come out of your mouth, the only one who speaks is Koby who begs Kuzan to thaw Hibari but the former admiral argues that he cannot let Koby escape when Teach is not there. Whereupon Garp's voice takes over, who orders the blonde to thaw out and return to the Navy.

"You haven't changed, you always say whatever comes to mind" Kuzan replies calmly before planting his feet on the ground, freezing the earth at his feet which causes a strong cold wind "I can't let any of that happen, Garp-san!" the former admiral shouts.

your heart stops in your throat, now it's even more obvious: Kuzan is ready to fight you…but you…you, the person who still loves him, aren't…You are still pathetically still, you can't move a muscle, not even when Garp yells at you to stay back. You can't understand how you got to all this..

"I really like how straightforward you are…so that's why I decided to live the way I want" he finishes his speech.

shortly after Garp and he start fighting, if they had told you there 2 years ago , but even a year ago, you would have laughed at the idea: Kuzan always maintained that he owed him, there was an almost father son bond between them. And now you can't help but stare at Kuzan attacking his former mentor, saying out loud things you never thought you would hear coming from his mouth.

And the worst thing is that on the one hand you still hope that Kuzan comes out unharmed, you worry about him, and you can't help but feel pathetic about these emotions. When Garp hits him with a Blue Hole, plunging him into the earth, your x-body moves on its own, moving faster than your thoughts, and Koby's cries asking where you are going fall on deaf ears.

And that's when you find yourself near the hole created by the vice admiral's very powerful blow, you kneel down trying to catch a glimpse of something, and hoping your comrades don't hear you you start calling him "Kuzan- san? Can you hear me?"

you see something miraculously move, but it looks like a slow movement, like it's dragging…. It's clear that your former mentor, the person you loved and cherished is still alive.

"Please come back to us" come back to me, you actually meant to say….But Kuzan does not respond, he is motionless, in fact you can make out the figure on the ground, looking at you…However, you cannot observe the details, you have no way to observe his reaction.

"I don't know why you joined Teach, but…do you really want to join such a despicable man? Where is your justice? The justice you taught me," you shout to him, but your shouts are interrupted by the sight of Kuzan, who jumped out of the hole with dirty clothes and broken glasses.

pt 2?

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (i)

A/N: hey all!!! this is the first part of my first ever series, i’ve had this one in the drafts for a while and i’ll try my best to update it as much as i can. a-lot of this first part is just setting up readers life until their eventual meet with natasha (who goes by natalie rushman in this) this is an AU. HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! i had a lot of fun writing this one.

ALSO: in honor of scarlett johansson opening an instagram account.

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: none.

part two found here. part ii

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

—————————

you hadn’t been in the dating scene since you graduated college two years ago. it was a long time to go without going on a proper date with anyone, even your mother had called at one point to voice her concerns on why her only daughter hadn’t brought anyone back home to introduce.

truth be told, the mere idea of a relationship really stressed you out. especially now that you’ve been working tirelessly since the second you left college. the week after graduation your plane had already been booked four months in advance when you found out you landed the role for a lead in a film.

you left your hometown in texas and flew to la for a three month shoot. it was only in post-production for five months before the first teaser dropped and two months later the film finally hit hbo max to stream.

the success of it was enough to earn you an online following. people within the industry had reached out in hopes of getting to know you or even work with you. and now people knew your name enough for you to have been stopped a handful of times during grocery runs.

it was back to work in getting auditions and doing things that kept your artist mind flowing. it wasn’t too long before you landed a role for another lead in a netflix series.

the director of the series was a well known one. greta gerwig, it was her first time directing for tv as opposed to film, she told you she was truly impressed by your delivery in the film you’d been in months prior. you felt incredibly lucky to have even been thought of for her leading girl.

you told her you were a fan of the work she’d done. how you truly cherished her way of encapsulating the female experience through her writing and directing.

she smiled gratefully and said she hoped you’d be willing to accept the role she was practically offering to you, you knew she was just teasing. no one was stupid enough to let an opportunity like this pass. you said yes without hesitance.

it was a lot more intimidating this time around.

you were set to shoot for six months in london. a whole different country thousands of miles away from friends and family. you left home two months later.

greta was amazing, the sets were amazing, the cast was amazing, the crew you were especially grateful for. you made sure they knew that by ordering a free coffee and pastry truck to set every friday.

some of it comes as a blur to you. it’s easy to get lost in the craft when you love it so much, your mother told you once. you worked tirelessly often times worrying the ones around you but you promised you were fine. it was very easy for others to say how lovable and playful you were while still being able to maintain the professionalism that was needed on set.

it’s what they loved most about you. so it was no surprise to anyone when there started to be some conversations involving you, the star, and the series.

there had been mutterings between crew and even your own cast-mates.

you were in the city today, sat outside a corner coffee shop in mayfair. devyn, a cast mate of yours, and self proclaimed local, offered to show you around london.

‘i heard gary, one of our light technicians say that he heard the producers talk about how they’re expecting a huge rollout once they start announcing the series.’ devyn said as he sipped on his latte.

‘what do you mean?’ you took your eyes off the busy street to look at your cast mate.

‘you’re an absolute powerhouse in this series, you know that right?’ he told you seriously. ‘everyone sees it, there’s no doubt this show is gonna get big. they’re already expecting it to be.’

you cringed at his words, you were never good for taking compliments. ‘oh god, please stop.’ he smiled with a shake of his head, a look on his face that screamed, you’ll see.

turns out devyn was definitely not talking out of his ass.

greta had started to pull you out for meetings with the producers. they spoke to you about how netflix was willing to go all in for promoting.

greta told you herself, ‘although netlfix will definitely be a big help, i think just the show on its own is already set for a very promising release.’

they had you sign contracts and explained to you what would happen once filming was over. 1. you’re gonna go home and take a well needed three month break. 2. prepare yourself for what’s to come. 3. then you were to be called back in for promo shoots and teaser reels. 4. get ready for the big premiere.

‘it’s gonna be a lot, there’s no way of knowing the scale of success this will reach except that it will be huge, and a lot of that will be you.’ tony, one of the producers told you. greta along with everyone else in the meeting nodded to his words.

‘yeah, some stills from some of the finished scenes released a few weeks ago. it’s easy to say a lot of people seemed to make noise from that.’ rhys, another producer said.

your blood ran cold. although it was easy to say you were proud of how far you were able to come on such a short notice… it also sort of felt like a lot was being thrown at you all at once.

you maybe had an idea of what your life would be looking like afterwards. you remember seeing all sorts of opinions once it was found out by the world that you’d be the next lead for greta gerwig’s first ever series.

mostly everyone was excited. greta on her own was an insanely talented writer and director, people were happy to hear she’d be turning to tv and seeing what she’d come up with. you remember the week following the announcement feeling a little overwhelmed, all due to the men in cameras who had followed you around for a week.

‘rising actress Y/N Y/L/N seen leaving her west hollywood condo ahead of reports saying that she’s been casted for the lead in greta gerwig’s next directorial project.’

you’re thinking that maybe life will look like that but multiplied by a thousand, but you’re hoping not…? the success part will be great. why wouldn’t it be? it’s all you’ve ever wanted. to be a successful actress. but at the expense of having your life put on a pedestal? it was a very tricky thing to play at.

greta gave you a smile, almost teasing, like she knew the big secret that everyone else didn’t.

she leaned forward with her arms crossed on the table. ‘once this is over, it will never truly be over. are you ready for it?’

nothing could have ever prepared you enough for what would come with the release of the series. if you thought everyone knew your name before, they definitely do now.

the release of the series was just seven months after you finished filming it. it definitely had a huge rollout like everyone else said it would. you don’t remember much of the premier either. it was a bunch of flashes and getting asked questions. as soon as you got home you knocked out cold.

number one in seventy three countries was a lot. you wouldn’t even want to imagine the amount of people it took to watch you for that to happen.

but with the success of the series also came a huge amount of scrutiny on your personal life. within the week of its release you’d had an influx of followers on any social platform they could find you on.

apparently that still wasn’t enough. people were itching to know more about the new girl that had come out of nowhere and stolen their attention in just a week.

it was all very scary. it was all mostly positive, at least the things you’ve seen and been shown. your agent and team did a great job at keeping you away from all the bad. you still knew it was all there though. people loved you but people also really disliked you.

you’ve also come to learn that people chronically online are insane. especially if you give them something to hyper fixate on, you knew of the tweets and posts people had been making of you. it made you absolutely freak out how fast people were to find out every little thing there was to know about you in such a short time.

‘i want you to go home for the week. not home in LA, home as in with your mom.’ samantha, your agent, told you. samantha along with your publicist fred, had seen firsthand what was being said online. she’s been in the industry long enough to know how ugly it can get for the victims, you were young and she wanted to protect you from that as much as possible.

‘i called your mom, she’s already expecting you home by tomorrow morning. your plane leaves at midnight.’ you nodded gratefully. the tension in your shoulders had slouched a little after hearing that. you missed your mom and you were scared as shit right now.

samantha was there in the uber when you were dropped off. she bid you goodbye and told you she’d call you for details on the next flight back to LA. ‘rest as much as you can, the press tour is gonna hit real hard.’

now came the insanely difficult part. the week back home went too fast and now you’re on a plane back to LA where your agent and a stylist were awaiting your arrival.

as soon as you’re off the gate a beefy man in jeans and a polo helps to escort you towards your luggage and eventually the car. ‘ma’am, just a heads up. there’s paps.’ he tells you before quickly ushering you out the glass doors and into the suv.

you don’t remember much after that. just that as soon as you arrived to your condo you were quickly pushed into a room with a stylist and pushed into another car after that.

the week had gone fast for the amount you’ve been doing. you’d met up with your cast-mates for the first time in a while and you were happy for that. most days it was just going to interviews answering questions, promoting, playing question games, more questions, etc…

it was finally friday. but promo was far from over. ‘you’re flying out tomorrow morning to new york and then we’re off to europe for the week.’

tonight was the huge post-premier party for the series. it was expected that there’d be quite a few well known names attending tonight aside from the cast. although a part of you was dreading another night of questions and just overall socializing, you knew it was needed to network.

cameras flashed in your face and people shouted your name upon arrival, but people were quick to let you in. ‘there’s a lot of people who want to speak with you.’ samantha tells you. you nod and put on your best brave face for the night.

samantha lingers around you as you cycle through speaking with all kinds of people. producers, actors, writers and the like. the first two hours fly by and things have reached some sort of stasis by then.

you’re in the middle of a conversation with some cast mates when tony— who you recognize as one of your producers— walks up to you with a redhead in tow.

‘the woman of the hour!’ he raises his arms to hug you.

‘i have to introduce you to natalie! she’s an excellent writer!’ the redhead next to him who you now know as natalie lets out a dry laugh at the man’s words. he was very obviously drunk.

and you see now that she is very obviously attractive.

she takes a few steps towards you and sticks out her hand for you to shake.

‘i hear you’re the talk of the town. have not stopped reading about you online.’ the smirk she wears makes you appreciate her beauty even more.

it was true. you were everywhere— in the tabloids, the headlines…natasha indulged in every single piece of information about you that she came across.

she also might’ve convinced tony to somehow introduce you two when she found out he was working with you.

she was a fan since your last film, and as a working screenwriter for film and television, she caught a bit of inspiration from seeing you on her screen.

‘i’ve gotta say, i was really impressed by your performance in this show. greta is a long time friend, she did good in choosing you.’ natalie compliments.

‘oh, thank you! it was a pleasure to work with her…she’s great.’ you cringe at your words. you still aren’t any better at taking these compliments no matter how many you get.

natalie smiles at you in silent understanding. she’s picked up on the small awkwardness that underlies the conversation.

you let out a low huff and motion towards the bartender to get you a shot of tequila. natalie quirks an eyebrow at your order but doesn’t question it.

‘do you want a drink?’ you turn to natalie with a smile. not only is your social battery slowly starting to diminish but talking to someone like natalie will have you saying nonsense.

you figure you’ll need a drink if you’re gonna continue to speak with her.

‘a diet coke will do me right. i’m driving home tonight.’ she says, the bartender nods and fixes your drinks.

an hour later and the drinks are sure to have calmed you down. in fact they’ve done more than just calm you down.

natalie and you spend a long while talking about anything and everything. you bond over being major nerds when it comes to philosophy. she tells you about how she double majored in philosophy and english at nyu.

‘my love for english had always existed but after taking a philosophy course my freshman year, it’s like i needed to write about these things that were talked about. i needed people to see what i thought about.’ natalie explains to you.

you’ve come to enjoy natalie despite only have met her about an hour and a half ago.

you tell her about how you were a huge thespian in high school and entering college, how philosophy was an added bonus when you figured out they both go very well together.

you’re grasping her arm as you explain it to her.

‘i mean genuinely i would hear so much about aristotle in my ethics class and then he’d somehow be connected to creating the 6 elements of a play! how crazy is that?!’

natalie is trying hard to concentrate on your words. you’d think it’d be a lot easier for her given the fact that she hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol…but all she can pay attention to is your lips. how they’ve now plumped up slightly due to your drinking.

she’s completely smitten with you by now, and she’s just met you. you’re definitely not like what the internet makes you out to be. for the most part, it really is just the alcohol in you.

you continue to ramble on.

‘honestly, i think socrates is good guy— like he has some great ideas but it’s kinda annoying how he thinks his way is the only way and he makes it his entire personality— ugh hold on i need to go piss.’

you’re clearly too drunk to care about what words leave your mouth. natalie doesn’t seem to mind it— and quite frankly neither do you.

‘do you need help getting there?’ natalie is quick to ask. all in good intentions, of course.

‘uhhh, yeah.’ you’re quick to agree. you have a rule, always travel in pairs when alcohol is present.

your arm is hooked to natalie’s as she helps lead you to the restrooms. it’s here when you get a slight whiff of her. you cringe at how weird you think of it in your head.

but she smells awfully appealing. like suede, lemon and a fireplace. all combined.

‘you smell really nice,’ you say, too worried about your bladder to care.

you feel vibrations of a chuckle leave natalie, you smile when you see her smiling too.

you nearly run into a stall as soon as you’re in the seemingly empty bathroom, thank god, you think. pee anxiety is a real thing.

you feel a little more level headed after doing your business. natalie waits by the door staring as you dry your hands.

‘feel better?’ you hear her ask.

‘much,’ you smile, a drunk one, your mind a little hazy.

‘i had a fun time tonight, with you, i mean.’ you find yourself saying.

she quirks an eyebrow. you continue.

‘i’ve had a really stressful past few weeks, it was nice to just…drink and talk knowing my words wouldn’t be plastered on some magazine issue the next day.’ you finish. your body is still buzzing. the alcohol making your body slightly move in place. but nonetheless you feel oddly content.

natalie smiles. a really big one.

‘i’m glad i could help take the edge off,’ she says.

you chuckle, turn to the mirror and make sure your makeup is still in place. a ding from your phone makes itself known, indicating a message. you dig through your clutch bag to get it.

we’re leaving now, you have an early start. plane to nyc leaves at 7:35am.

the text message from samantha reads.

you huff.

‘sorry to cut this short, natalie. my presence is needed near the entrance. i have to be in new york tomorrow before noon.’ you smile apologetically

she smiles. a part of her wasn’t surprised at all. you’re you, and everyone wants to be around you. she was surprised she even had your attention for more than an hour.

she nods. ‘i get it, can i ask why though?’

‘interview with fallon, i think.’ is all you say before you step closer to the redhead and press a kiss to her cheek. you think nothing of it.

‘truly, it was lovely to meet you natalie.’ and she doesn’t have the chance to reply before you’re out the restroom door.

natalie realizes she never got your number.

two days later, she’s made it back to her home in new york. natalie decides to shake off the jet lag with late night televison and a glass of wine in hand.

ironically, jimmy fallon is on.

‘please welcome…!’ and she sees you appear before her.

she is so captivated, she doesn’t realize she’s finished the bottle of pinot grigio next to her.

stupid as it sounds, this is when natalie rushman decided she wanted to be a part of whatever world you were creating for yourself.

[fallininlust]

( III ) DECEMBER SIXTH

♱ — YOUR LOVE IS SCARIN’ ME !

pair. nick x m!reader genre. hurt w lots of comfort

word count : [ 1.2k ]

description : snow falls / white clouds / defrosting hearts / ice cold fingertips / chilled air leaving parted lips / chattering teeth / fear of love / for what is love without heartache? / sniffling noses / pained souls / how can you love someone who doesn’t know what it feels like? / with all the adoration in your heart, cherish them / sore waterlines / and tear drops

I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories !

How do you love someone who doesn’t know what being loved feels like?

It was a question Nick was constantly asking himself about you. He loved you so much and he’d made it evident, but still you doubted him. And he understood, of course he did, but he didn’t know how to convince you anymore. You sat on the edge of the bench, maintaining space between the two of you. You fiddled with the hem of your hoodie, keeping your eyes on the pile of snow ahead of you. His eyes were boring into your side profile, trying and failing to read a blank slate.

Everything had been fine. The pair of you had decided to take a walk for a moment alone. One thing led to another and an argument arose, one in which you accused him of not loving you.

He had rolled his eyes and thrown his head back in exhaustion at the never ending claim. “Is there ever gonna’ be a day where you don’t throw that shit in my face?”

Your face had contorted with hurt, stopping in your tracks as he kept walking for a second. When he stopped and turned around, he’d caught sight of your offended eyes and disbelievingly parted lips. “The fuck’s that ‘posed t’mean?” You’d scoffed.

“It means that not a fuckin’ day goes by where you’re not claimin’ I don’t love you when I do everything imaginable to show you!” He’d raised his voice, his frustration overpowering the small bit of guilt that’d been swelling in his gut at the sight of you so hurt.

All you’d done was stare at him, the workings of your jaw clenching and unclenching were the only movements made as he panted to catch his breath after yelling. The hurt from your face had washed away into something emotionless as soon as he’d started — bitterness lingering in the way you nodded slowly.

Thankfully, a cleaned off bench had been near where you’d stopped walking. You turned away from him to sit on it, staring ahead of you as soon as you’d sat down. It took a little bit, but eventually he sat down, too. He knew you needed a second to calm down and collect your thoughts, so he sat on the other end of the bench. He stared into your side profile, hoping to get a read of where your thoughts were, but he’d never seen you so blank before — there was nothing he could make out from where he was looking.

After a a few seconds, your gaze turned away from the pile of snow to the white clouds above you — your head tilted back slightly to emphasize your jawline and every bob of your Adam’s apple as you swallowed periodically. As his eyes continued to trace each plane of your face, he finally caught sight of your eyes. He saw the build up of tears growing in your waterline, his stomach churning with the guilt that ate away at him for even letting himself raise his voice.

“I don’t mean to throw it in ya’ face.” You finally rasped out the words. “I jus’,” you sighed shakily, “I’ve never been loved before — y’know that much, but every single example of love I’ve ever seen has never been healthy. I don’t know what healthy love looks like, n’ I definitely don’t know what the fuck it feels like. I’m … I’m constantly confused n’ overwhelmed by everything I’m feelin’ all the time. I never know what’s enough n’ what’s not—”

As soon as the tear slid down your cheek, Nick immediately left his spot on the bench to kneel in front of you. He took hold of your hands, wrapping them as well as he could with his own. “Hey,” he whispered, “it’s okay, I promise. I’m really sorry for yellin’ at you — I didn’t mean it. I know you struggle with it, but …” he took a deep breath, wanting to communicate with you in a way that was healthy. “Sometimes, it’s not fair on me f’you to accuse me like that, y’know?”

Your lips trembled as you listened, tears drops falling a bit more rapidly as he took one of his hands to try and wipe them away.

“I try so hard to make sure you feel loved,” his own voice cracked, “and every time you tell me I don’t love you, it’s like everything I’ve ever done f’you ends up thrown out — discarded like it’s nothin’. And that? That really fuckin’ hurts, baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered through a forced frown as you tried to fight the trembling of your jaw and the chattering of your teeth as the wind blew colder against your skin.

He nodded sadly. “I know, baby. I am, too.”

He stood up slowly, removing his hands from yours to hold your head tentatively — his lips quivering lips placed a firm kiss on your forehead before he stood up entirely. Out of instinct, you opened your legs a little wider, wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him closer to you from between your legs. When he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, you rested your head on the soft fabric of his (your) sweater, nuzzling into his stomach. You didn’t want him to leave you, and you said as much with your hold on him.

After a second of that, he felt your shoulders shake under his arms and your spine jump and shudder with each choked sob that left your lips. He pulled you closer, uncaring for the patch of tears that’d end up left on his (your) hoodie. His own tears slid down the hills of his cheeks, hating how broken each cry that left you sounded. As soon as he noticed you were calming down, he wiped his face furiously of any tears. He held your face softly within his gentle grasp, looking down at you sweetly. He used the pad of his thumb to rub away at your under eyes, ridding you of those salty tears that stained your face.

“It’s okay, baby, everything’s okay.” He nodded along to his own words to enforce them for you. He crouched down to be at eye level with you, but he kept your face in his hands. “I love you,” he vowed, “I love you so much — I can’t breathe if I haven’t told you at least once a day. You are everything to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.”

Your eyes watered again, but for a happier reason. You saw the conviction in his eyes. You finally saw just how much he loved you. “I love you,” you retorted, “so much — too much.” A wet laugh escaped you, sniffling as you smiled at him.

Nick beamed at you, happy that you were realizing just how much adoration he felt for you. You were both sniffling, the remaining tears that leaked from your eyes fell, but you both still leaned in — sealing your promises, your vows of adoration for each other with a single, passionate kiss as snow started to fall again.

icarus inquires . . .

this is so soft to me. like ugh i love reassurance. some slight angst — but barely compared to the amount i usually do lmao. hope you enjoyed <3

tags . . .

@mattsfavoritestar / @peiivnao / @joopsworlx

[vasito-de-leche]

Could we have some Zima relationship headcanons :]

;R1999 ZIMA - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Zima in a romantic relationship.

ofc you can nonnie, ty for the request! Zima was the other character that got me into the game so he's very dear to me

also also, I'm not sick anymore so I have some steam to work on requests, hehe <3 still working on the sleepy fics though, don't worry yall!

I haven't done a proper analysis/HCs post on Zima yet, so as usual I'll be talking a little about his character before getting into the whole relationship aspect of things!

The portrayal of Zima as a stereotypical, shy introvert feels extremely reductive to me, especially when it's all attributed to his speech pattern - the pauses, the stuttering... None of it is an indication of timidness. We have to remember that Zima's native language, like many other characters, is not english and he struggles when speaking it. That's the reason he speaks in such a way, there's a language barrier he's constantly fighting against in order to communicate with others and yet he's clearly trying.

There's an emphasis on loneliness, isolation and avoidance in his character that is impossible to ignore, which seems to add to the whole portrayal of Zima as a "shy baby". But again, this is something that comes from an important part of his life - the exile he went through. Him being socially inept is a result of a punishment, years of being alone with no one but animals to keep him company. It doesn't come from a sense of inferiority or insecurity such as Charlie, but an absolute lack of human contact.

When examining his voicelines, we also see that he's opinionated - criticizing the Tsar and the poor living conditions of the people, speaking of the beauty of nature and so on and so forth. He explicitly writes poems on any surface like trees, rocks and snow, even if he knows they'll be washed away overtime.

I understand that it's extremely easy to dismiss Zima when it comes to romance because of all of these details, his isolating ways and all, but he's a poet first and foremost.

While he may not be romantic in the more traditional sense we're used to, he's extremely insightful and takes a lot of care to appreciate the small details that often go overlooked, but that make life feel more lively and rich. In the context of relationships, given his age and his lifestyle, Zima would bring a completely different type of vibe - for comparison, most of the characters I talked about already lean towards high emotions, the fun of discovering love for the first time, etc etc...

Pavia's love is a whole rollercoaster on his own because there's always the chance of either getting hurt or having the time of your life, Forget Me Not's feels exactly like being hungover in the morning. But Zima's love is more like coming home after a long trip, knowing there's a warm meal waiting for you. It's familiar and calm.

On the subject of Zima falling in love.

Zima is used to introspection, so I genuinely believe he has a strong sense of self and a good grasp on his emotions. He quickly realizes when he's fallen for someone and he accepts it easily, despite the lack of romantic interactions in his life. This is because the object of his affections is, most likely, someone he already cherishes, and who puts the effort into maintaining a good friendship with him - so the idea of being in love with them feels natural!

I can't see Zima pursuing romantic relationships with strangers and/or those outside his close circle, not even a surface attraction beyond artistic appreciation for someone's looks. He strikes me as the type who can only fall in love with those he trusts and knows.

And even then, his behaviour wouldn't change much!

It's obvious that he lacks friends, so the very few people he does have are extremely important to him - even so, Zima does not need to constantly orbit around them and will gladly spend days (and weeks if you don't actively seek him out) without seeing them, content to catch up with them whenever their paths cross. He shares what little he has to offer with everyone, practical things and knowledge. Zima is 100% that friend who disappears for months and returns as if nothing happened.

When it comes to you, it's the same. Sure, if you ask him to stay a little longer then he'll oblige you. And if you're the chatty type or find his work interesting, then he'll put the effort into having a conversation with you despite the language barrier. But that's about it, the changes aren't noticeable no matter how much he loves you, because all of that happens when no one is looking.

If you happen to stroll around in the wilderness, getting lost in the forest and all, then you might find your name carved on trees along with many, many poems. If you don't speak or read russian, then all you'll be able to recognize is your name - the very first thing Zima taught you in his native tongue - but these are all declarations of love.

The animals are kinder to you, curious even. They follow and treat you like an old friend, as if they knew you, because everything they've heard from you comes from Zima himself. They speak about everything and anything with him, after all.

Zima lacks the initiative to confess or even consider being in a proper relationship with you - I insist, he's genuinely content with being a close friend - but he also lacks the restraint to keep his feelings to himself and thus puts them on display in the only way he knows how: as a poorly kept secret between himself and the nature that surrounds him.

Not many think of him as a romantic because of how stoic he is, but when Zima is in love, he sees you in every flower, in the snowflakes that fall and kiss his nose. You're the gentle summer breeze and the crystal clear rivers once winter ends. You're right there beside him in spirit when he sees little chicks take flight for the first time, or when all the other forest critters wake up after hibernating. Zima finds beauty in every aspect of nature, and he sees you everywhere he looks.

That said, there's no way he'll take the first step. That's entirely up to you, to pick up all these things and confront him about it - that's the only time he'll be open and direct about his feelings. Because you already know how much you mean to him!

Zima would love to teach you his native language.

This is partially me projecting because english isn't my native language either, but I do like to think that Zima's english is all self-taught. He understands when others speak english, but isn't as fluent when speaking himself. And that's why it's sooo infuriating and frustrating for him, as a creative person and poet.

Not only because it's harder to communicate with others, but because his work and poems - the most important part of himself - can't be fully understood. Therefore HE can't be fully understood. Some translations, while good, can't even come close to their original meaning. As his partner, Zima wants you to understand the full depth of his affections and thoughts.

I do think that the process of learning would also be quite organic, starting with Zima simply pointing out at things and teaching you the way they're named in russian, basic stuff he does unconsciously. If you pick up things on your own from his work and his translations, Zima will be over the moon and would ask you to repeat yourself to make sure your pronunciation is right and because he loves the way his language sounds with your accent.

But if you approach and ask him to properly teach you? He's gone, instantly overwhelmed with emotion and thoughts racing in his head, trying to organize a million different things - what would be the best way to teach you? Should he start with the alphabet? You want to learn this brand new language to understand him better, that simple gesture is a huge deal for him.

Once you have a pretty good grasp on the language, at least enough to have basic conversations with him, it will feel like Zima has gotten a little bolder - addressing you with pet names, being generally more blunt and talkative... But in fact, he's just finally able to express himself in his totality.

This also goes the other way around - Zima would love to learn your own native language, whether it's english or something else. It's yet another language he can use to express himself, so it's a win-win. And I know that it's common for us multilingual people to start confusing and mixing all the languages we speak, but I think Zima would have an easy time keeping them apart, so to speak!

On the subject of Zima and how he acts when he's in a relationship.

You two were close friends before you were lovers, so Zima doesn't feel any sort of pressure to live up to some dating standards like fancy dates, gifts or grandiose displays of affections - once again, it's all about what feels natural. You two know each other more than enough to simply fall into a comfortable routine that works out for both.

He does make the effort to drop by more often, to find a middle ground until he feels more comfortable and used to being around large groups of people. But he would also insist that you accompany for his walks in search of inspiration for his work!

When it comes to showing affection, I think Zima might be a little touchstarved - casual physical contact such as someone hugging or patting him on the back as a greeting still catch him by surprise, but affectionate gestures with those he trusts and loves is a novelty that leaves Zima starry-eyed.

He has a lot of things that he needs to slowly get used to again now that he's not exiled in the middle of the woods, but having you shower him with affection is something that he grows to like rather quickly. When you pet him, pepper his face with kisses, hold his hand when walking or hug him - it doesn't matter, Zima will always stand there, fascinated with the way you make him feel, so very warm and safe.

He would appreciate a warning before being touched, and he always makes sure to ask before initiating anything himself - it doesn't matter how many times you tell him that you're fine with this sort of contact, he's going to ask for permission anyway. Just out of politeness. Personal space is important, after all.

I think Zima would try to stick to a routine he can follow without overwhelming himself, especially if you're the type to need more attention (again, Zima will literally disappear for weeks if left to his own devices). It's more of a short list of things he needs to remember to do before the day is over, the two most important ones being greeting you in the morning and wishing you goodnight.

As for more general aspects of a relationship, I don't think there's much to say! Arguments with him rarely happen because he's patient and careful with his words, he communicates his needs and boundaries as well as he respects yours and all. Zima isn't that talkative, but his more "eccentric" traits are something you're probably used to on account of that initial bond and trust.

[pixeldistractions]

A tidy hiking trail wound up and around the boulders, with well-maintained stairs leading to the top. He led her past the rock spa, past the clearing where yoga classes gathered, to a small rocky outcrop under a sprawling shade tree.

“Open your eyes! The view is incredible up here.”

She opened her eyes, just a peek, keeping her gaze on the far horizon and not the steep hundred foot drop below them. Her safe and protected suburban life had never given her the chance to explore whether she was afraid of heights. Now, she learned, she was!

“Don’t let go.”

“Not a chance,” he said. “But you know, we’re still ten feet away from the edge.”

“Ha! Ten feet is not far enough! What if you got dizzy? What if you slipped? What if the wind blew really hard?”

“Hmm,” he mused. “You know what’s funny? Now that I’ve met her, I see a lot of your mother in you.”

Down below, JoJo had made fast friends with Jack and Nessa’s boys. They worried about her sometimes—she could be feisty and aggressive, and her little friendships had been hit or miss. But out here, on the road, in the wild, with these feral children of other feral families, she had found a natural fit.

“That was a good climb,” Jordan said. “Really good. I don’t know, I think you’re my good luck charm.”

“Aww, don’t say that. You should take credit for your hard work,” she said. “But… I only wish I liked watching you do that more.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to watch. But it’s safe, we’re on ropes. You can’t see them from down there, but it’s safe.”

“It’s just a lot higher than I thought it would be. And it’s not even the biggest one? The one in Japan is higher?”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We’re not in Japan yet.”

“One thing more.” Maria pulled something from her pocket. “I bought this in the gift shop. You’re not allowed to say no.” She didn’t hand it to him, she just took his keyring from his pocket and slipped the tiny flashlight onto the ring.

He laughed. “If I had a bad fall and nobody found me, the dark is the least of my worries. All the scavenger animals out here, coyotes, mountain lions, vultures…”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse about this?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, then maybe the dark won’t be another worry.”

“Right, I’ll be able to see which animal is about to eat me.”

“Stop it,” Maria laughed. “And maybe we’ll put a GPS tracker on you, too.”

“You can if you want.”

“But don’t climb alone.”

“I never would. But thank you. I’ll cherish it.”

As the sun passed behind the rocks, night fell swiftly over the park, and it was time to call the group to dinner.

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (8/10)

Photographic evidence that Jordan’s dinner was eaten and appreciated by all. I just didn’t take the best pictures of it, and it wasn’t much to add to the story, anyway.

No photographic evidence of a tiny flashlight on a keychain because that part snuck in from the book version of this story (and it needs to stay…), so we’ll have to use our imaginations for that!

If you will please ignore that Jordan’s clothes changed in the last two shots, because sims, lol!

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

[heartfullofleeches]

would there be any way the staff!reader could stay overnight in the gallery safely? without being turned into an art piece so everyone doesnt have to worry about losing them? maybe this reader, somehow hired to take care of and maintain everyone in the gallery, doesn't really have anywhere to go home to...?

honestly? i'd feel very protected if i had to sleep in an art gallery full of art + director that love and cherish me. after i get used to them being alive first–

BTW i hope you are safe, happy, stress-free, are eating well and drinking lots of water! have an amazing day whether you choose to answer this or not!! :D

Well, as long as you manage to make it clear that you'll never leave them, the gallery won't have to resort to turning you into a painting. I imagine living there would be the best way to do so actually. The topic will most likely come up again as you age or if you get seriously injured, but for the time they would be content with the arrangement and (somehow) work together to make sure you're given the same care that you've given them.

-

"Is Y/n comfortable?"

The question's accompanied by light snickering as the hands at work complete their mission. You wrestle against your binds, but their softness and the persisting presence of hands pinning to the mat as well as combing through your hair makes you still. You accept defeat physically - but you're not down for the count yet.

"Scavenger, I really appreciate your effort, but I need to check on the other floors before I get some rest."

The Scavenger only laughs more, yet there's a notable difference to its tone. While clocking out for the night and tending to the rest of your duties off-shift, you were ambushed by the painting and dragged back to the storage closet you slept in. Your own bedding had already been laid out; added onto by the various blankets, foods, and other comforts they had stolen for you. The Scavenger used said blankets to swaddle you in and has been trying for the past half hour to get you to fall asleep. It hushes you with a finger to your lips.

"Shhhh. Quiet. There are new rules to follow. New rules to keep Y/n safe. Once their shift is over, it's our turn to take care of them. Might get sick otherwise."

The Scavenger runs its blackened fingers across the dark circles under your eyes to prove their point. As you prepare your rebuttal, the storage room door opens. Your stomach drops seeing who walks in.

The Lady in White. Red clings to the tails of her dress like haunts of her crimes and a knife welt in her hand. Crimson decorates the blade, but it's not blood. On further investigation, its revealed to the remaining skin of the item resting on the plate in her opposite hand. Her face scrunches up in disgust as she looks at all the processed foods around you.

"Please, stop feeding my darling garbage. I've left them in your company because I believe its for the best for us all, but I am not afraid to cut you all down if I must."

She places a plate of apple slices on the floor. "The Rose has been growing these for you. It's not much, but its food. If I had the right ingredients, I'm sure I can make a proper dish with them. Use this to buy them for me, and whatever else you may need."

She sets a wallet beside the plate. At least she tried to scrape off the blood the time. As soon as she takes her leave, another member of the gallery enters the room. Two in fact. The Painter, and a newer addition to the team, Soleil. The living clock had a habit of leaving its parts about for you to find, but seemed to be in working condition as it cocks its head at you quizzically. Its companion stares down the halls with a worried expression; shocked when they look over at you.

"Oh, dear. You're still awake, Poppy? That's no good- no good at all. I came all the way from my workshop to capture your-... I mean, check on you before the Angel stopped by to play guard."

"I told you they'd be up. They're always up at this hour no matter how often I tell them the time."

"Quiet, you overgrown alarm clock. We need to let them get their rest."

Then wh..y aren't you?

Soleil jumps at the new voice, while The Painter merely slacks their shoulders. No hope in getting that perfect picture now. The Faceless Angel stands behind the duo. They have gotten better with speech since they first lost their face. Slurred, their deep and raspy voice is much clearer now with only the smallest hiccups when they speak for long. Singing and talk to you while you winded down for the night help their progress immensely. In their hands, they hold a bright pink rose which yips in excitement the closer it gets to you. The angel puts it next to your bed and takes a seat; acting as your guardian angel for now, and as long as you will allow.

With your alarm clock, guardian, and two slightly bothersome, but still caring paintings - your eyes start to grow heavy. You don't remember when you start to dose off, or how long you actually slept, but the time on Soleil's open chest reads 4am when you're woken by a gentle shake.

"Hey, Y/n. Sorry for waking you, but I lost my house keys. Can I sleep next to you?"

You mumble a reply your coworker takes as a yes. Anri snuggles up beside you, careful not to touch you aside from placing a hand over your arm. You'd save wondering how they got their hands on a new uniform in the morning.

With the gallery's residents returned back to place, the director shuts the storage room door with a prayer of pleasant dreams. It feels so good to know that you're home.

[piancqwrites]

Tomorrow

synopsis ➸ You both take care of each other.

next chapter ➸ Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

tags ➸ childhood friends to lovers, yaku x reader, reader is female, artist reader, reader cuts finger, blood

divider by @strangergraphics-archive + @strangergraphics

HIGHSCHOOL YEAR TWO

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Morisuke replied as he greeted you inside his home, a warm smile on his face. The comforting smell of home cooking wafted through the air, instantly making you feel welcome. He rubbed the back of his neck in a slightly awkward gesture. “My younger brothers can be a handful.”

You took off your shoes and stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the hardwood floor beneath your feet. The hallway was adorned with framed photos of the Yaku family, each capturing a cherished memory: a family vacation at the beach, a birthday party, and school graduations. A small plant sat on a table near the door, its leaves a vibrant green and thriving under the soft glow of a nearby lamp. You couldn’t help but smile at the cozy, lived-in feeling of the house.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure Yuki has a tiny crush on me,” you whispered the last sentence, casting a playful glance at Morisuke.

“I overheard Hanzo teasing him about it,” Morisuke whispered in response, leaning in close as he glanced over his shoulder to ensure his brothers weren’t within earshot. His voice held a mix of amusement and sympathy, and you could tell he was genuinely entertained by the antics of his younger siblings.

As he straightened up, his eyes twinkled with mischief, clearly enjoying the lighthearted gossip. “You should have seen Yuki’s face,” he added with a chuckle. “He turned as red as a tomato.”

Suddenly, rapid footsteps thundered through the house as Yuki and his other brother, Hanzo, came racing down the stairs, their faces lit up with pure excitement. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation as they spotted you, and they couldn’t contain their enthusiasm.

“[Last name]-san!” they shouted in unison, their voices ringing with joy as they ran towards you. Before you could react, they barreled into you, their small arms wrapping around you in a tight, enthusiastic hug. The force of their embrace was surprising, almost knocking the wind out of you, but their genuine happiness made you laugh.

“Hey, you guys!” you managed to say between giggles, trying to catch your breath as they squeezed you tighter. Their energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but be swept up in their joy.

You couldn’t help but notice the similar traits shared by all three brothers.

They all had the same soft brown eyes that sparkled with a playful glint and their hair shared similar shades of toffee, giving them a striking familial resemblance.

Their smiles spread across their faces in the same infectious way, and their playful yet caring nature hinted at a strong familial bond.

Even in how they hugged you, there was a familiar warmth and earnestness, making you feel like you were part of their close-knit family.

“Okay, okay, you two need to let go,” Morisuke said, gently prying his brothers off you. “Remember, she needs to breathe!”

Hanzo immediately released his hold and stepped back, grinning widely. Yuki, however, held onto you just a little longer, his small arms still wrapped around you tightly. His face buried in your side, he seemed reluctant to let go, savoring the warmth of the embrace. With a gentle nudge from Morisuke, Yuki finally released his hold, looking up at you with a shy smile and a faint blush.

“He’s so adorable,” you murmured softly, unable to resist a smile. You quickly turned away, trying to keep your composure. I can’t let it show, you thought, determined to maintain your cool demeanor.

Yaku caught sight of your subtle reaction and smirked knowingly. “Hey, why don’t you two set up a board game in the living room?” he suggested to his brothers. “We’ll join you in a minute with some snacks.”

Yuki and Hanzo eagerly agreed, grabbing the game and racing off to the living room. Yaku turned to you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Come on, let’s get the snack tray ready,” he said, leading the way to the kitchen.

Following him, you inhaled the comforting aroma of home cooking that filled the air, accompanied by the excited chatter of the boys echoing from the other room. Morisuke opened the pantry, gathering various treats and handing them to you with a playful grin.

“You know, they really like you,” he commented, his voice warm and sincere. “It’s nice to see them so excited.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, but you responded in a lighthearted tone. “They’re great kids. It’s hard not to be charmed by them.”

Morisuke chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they are pretty great,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Thanks for spending time with them. It means a lot to them—and to me.”

"You don't have to thank me, Mori," you shrugged as you opened a cupboard to get a tray. "Besides, I can always count on this place to be a safe space."

A few beats of silence passed, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sounds of your knife slicing through apples on the cutting board. The kitchen was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, casting warm shadows on the walls.

You carefully carved the fruit into bunny shapes, the precise movements of your hands grounding you in the moment. The simple, repetitive task was soothing, each delicate cut creating another tiny rabbit that joined the growing collection on the plate beside you.

Yaku leaned against the counter, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched you work. His gaze was steady, almost studious.

It was as if he could read every thought passing through your mind by observing the smallest shifts in your expression. He had always been good at that—reading between the lines, noticing the subtle things you often tried to hide.

The way your brows furrowed just slightly when something was bothering you, the way your lips pressed together as if holding back words you weren’t ready to say.

He caught it all.

His eyes followed the delicate arc of your knife as you sliced through another apple, but it wasn’t the fruit he was focused on—it was you.

He noticed how your shoulders were just a bit tenser than usual, how your hands, though steady, moved with a touch more care as if the simple act of cutting apples was both a distraction and a shield.

Yaku’s gaze drifted from your hands to your face, searching for the story behind your silence. The soft light accentuated the slight shadow under your eyes, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks as you concentrated on your task.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, and gentle, as if he didn’t want to startle you. “Did something happen with your parents?”

The knife in your hand paused mid-slice, the question cutting through the quiet like a sudden breeze. For a moment, you didn’t look up, your eyes still focused on the apple beneath your fingers, but Yaku could see the way your expression shifted—how your lips parted slightly, how the light in your eyes dimmed just a touch. The question had hit its mark, and he could see that he had touched on something you weren’t entirely ready to confront.

Yaku stayed where he was, not moving closer yet, giving you space to process. His eyes never left your face, watching for the smallest sign of how you might respond.

The kitchen, once filled with the comforting sounds of your task, now felt heavy with the weight of the unsaid, the soft thumps of your knife against the cutting board now almost deafening in the stillness.

You continued slicing the apples, but your movements became faster, more erratic. The comforting rhythm of the knife against the cutting board was replaced by a hurried, almost frantic energy as you tried to distract yourself from the feelings rising to the surface.

“They just don’t get it,” you said abruptly, your voice laced with frustration. The knife sliced through the apple with increasing speed and force, the soft thump against the cutting board punctuating your words. “They keep making these comments about how pursuing art is a waste of time like it’s some kind of joke. As if it’s not a real career or something.”

The apples seemed to yield to your anger, each cut more aggressive than the last, the knife’s blade flashing as you talked. Your hands moved with increasing speed, the apple slices piling up in a disorganized heap.

“It’s like they don’t even see how much it means to me,” you continued, the words spilling out as if they had been bottled up for too long. “Every time I bring it up or work on my portfolio, they just dismiss it, or worse, they make snide remarks. My older brother—he’s the worst. He just rolls his eyes and tells me I’m being unrealistic.”

The apples seemed to yield to your anger, each cut more aggressive than the last.

In your haste, your fingers slipped, and the knife grazed your skin. A sharp sting jolted through you, and you silently cursed at the pain as a thin line of red appeared. The sudden pain broke through the manic rhythm you had fallen into.

Yaku’s eyes widened with concern as he immediately stepped in.

“Hey, careful!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in alarm. He quickly took the knife from your hand, placing it down on the cutting board with a controlled motion. His movements were precise and deliberate as he guided your injured hand under the faucet. He turned on the sink to a set temperature, ensuring the water was just right to soothe the sting of the cut.

“I'm sorry,” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Yaku took charge, his hands gentle but firm.

"You don't have to apologize," Yaku discarded the unfinished apple slices and the cutting board, clearing the space.

“Just breathe. I’ve got you,” he said softly, his tone soothing as he searched the kitchen drawers for a bandage.

Playing games with Morisuke's brothers was nothing short of chaotic.

Yuki's brow was furrowed in concentration as he stared down at his hand of cards. “Hanzo, you can’t just keep skipping my turns like that! It’s totally unfair!” He munched on an apple slice angrily.

You, sitting between the two brothers, tried to keep a neutral expression as the arguments flew back and forth. Every time Yuki threw down a card, Hanzo was quick to counter with a clever play, leading to a back-and-forth that was both entertaining and exhausting to witness.

“Seriously, Hanzo?” Yuki’s voice was tinged with exasperation as he picked up a new card. “You’re just trying to win by annoying me. That’s not how you play!”

Hanzo threw down a skip card with dramatic flair, causing Yuki to groan in frustration. “Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” Hanzo retorted, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Hanzo smirked and tapped his temple with a finger. “It’s called using your brain, Yuki. You should try it sometime. Maybe you’d win more often.”

Before Yuki could respond, Hanzo slammed down his final card with a victorious shout. “UNO out!”

Yuki’s eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. “Wait, what? No way!”

The game erupted into a mix of cheers from Hanzo and groans of disappointment from Yuki. Morisuke, who had been watching with a bemused smile, finally let out a hearty laugh. “Looks like Hanzo takes the win this round. Maybe next time, Yuki!”

Yuki, still in shock, left his unfinished apple slice on the table. “I can’t believe it. That was so unfair!”

Hanzo, basking in his victory, leaned back with a smug grin. “All’s fair in love and UNO.”

Yuki sat slumped in his chair, still grumbling about his loss, while Hanzo reveled in his victory. You reached over, your fingers gently raking through Yuki's tousled hair in a comforting gesture.

“You did really well, Yuki,” you said, your voice soft and reassuring. “It was a tough game, but you played great.”

Yuki’s face turned a deep shade of red as he looked up at you, his eyes widening with a mix of embarrassment and something else that made his heart flutter.

The blush on his cheeks was almost comically bright, and he mumbled, “Marry me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected confession.

You stifled a giggle, your heartwarming at the sweet and innocent proposal. “Oh, Yuki,” you said with a gentle laugh, leaning closer to him. “I’m flattered, really. But you’re too young for me, kiddo.”

Yuki’s blush deepened, and he looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment with a shy smile. “I just thought you were really cool,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

You smiled warmly, reaching out to give him a light, playful pat on the back. “Well, I think you’re pretty awesome too, Yuki. And don’t worry—there’ll be plenty of time for you to find someone special when you’re older.” With quick movements, you picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a haven of tranquility compared to the lively chaos of the dining room. The gentle hum of the sink, running with warm water, was the only sound as you focused on tidying up. The apple slices you had so carefully shaped into bunnies had mostly disappeared, and you were wiping down the counter, savoring the brief respite from the clamor of the game.

Meanwhile, in the dining room, Hanzo’s offhand remark had set off a chain reaction of surprise and confusion. “Oniii-san, aren’t you and [Last name]-san dating?” he asked casually, his tone light and innocent as if it was the most natural question in the world.

Morisuke, caught off guard by the sudden question, spluttered and choked on his drink. His face turned a deep shade of red as he fumbled to regain his composure, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Wait, what?" Yuki stared at his older brother in betrayal.

"Yuki, inside voice." Morisuke scolded before turning his attention to Hanzo. "Hanzo, why do you think that?"

Hanzo’s grin remained in place, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I saw how close you were with [Last name]-san in the kitchen earlier. You seemed really concerned when she cut herself. It just looked… pretty close.”

Yaku’s gaze shifted toward the kitchen, where you were still working, the image of you slicing apples and his own reaction to your minor injury replaying in his mind. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he considered Hanzo’s observation.

“I didn’t realize it looked like that,” Yaku said, his tone thoughtful as he addressed Hanzo’s comment. He paused for a moment before continuing, “We’re not dating, though. We’re just… friends.”

[nohoney]

♡ crumpled photographs of me ♡

notes: the first part to the teddy bear series! it stays somewhat in the canon universe of bnha, while hawks still works for the commission. i remember reading a lot of ‘secret relationship with hawks’ fics when i really started to like his character and of course want to add my own silly little contribution.

♪ Now I'm finding knives under the sheets / Crumbled photographs of me ♪

warnings: yandere hawks (more soft tho), reader is very distressed, somewhat dubcon-ish (nothing explicit) but it’s how the reader has to cope with her environment

words: 5.6k

synopsis:

All photographs of you.

Keigo sat on the couch when you walked further into the apartment, just nonchalantly taking pictures out of a photo album from your apartment and crumpling them first before throwing them aside.

“I want these to be filled with only us now, okay? I don’t like thinking that you had a life before me.”

There was a time that you were willing to pose in front of a camera and smile for a picture. You weren’t exactly always prepared for your picture to be taken but you at least knew how to angle your head in a flattering angle and give a little smile that made it seem like you were picture ready. Back then, you preferred your photos taken in private. A few photographer friends would ask to use you as a subject on occasion or on the rare moments that you decided that you needed to update your resume photo, most of your best pictures then were taken in a more controlled environment with someone to guide you.

For a while, you had a small appreciation for film cameras.

There was a nostalgia to getting the film developed and then seeing how the pictures came out with no preview aside from just trusting the lighting through the viewfinder and a little flash.

It was a silly little thing that you enjoyed with him at first, going through stacks of developed pictures and picking out the best ones and laughing at the worst ones. Even if you could never take photos out in the world like a regular couple, you still cherished being able to have this special privilege with the number two Pro Hero, whom the outside world would only know as Hawks but to you he was Keigo Takami. It felt special to be photographed by him and to be the only person in his camera roll.

You had started to feel much differently about that fact when you had decided to end the relationship.

Loving Keigo was a choice that you made, starting a relationship despite the risks that came with dating a Pro Hero was a choice that you made, and walking away from Keigo was the hardest choice you had to make when it proved too difficult to attempt to maintain a normal relationship with him. It was already hard enough with all of his duties that were expected of him on the daily and it was even more difficult trying to circumvent the commission that had trained and raised the beloved winged hero of the country. You wanted to believe that his wings would always shield you from the prying eyes of the outside world and it would block out anything that would come between you.

“We can try harder. I know this is tough on you but please, I want you by my side.” Keigo was gently pleading to you while you avoided his heartbroken gaze. “Don’t you know how crazy I’ll go without you?”

At the time, those words were just a phrase that you didn’t take very seriously.

Thirteen days after the break up, you didn’t think Keigo would be standing in front of you again but with the most eerie gaze you had never seen him sport before. He threw a folder onto the countertop of the kitchen with pictures sliding out easily. Pictures of you that he’d taken in intimate moments, pictures that you agreed to be the subject of when he had brought you to a sexed up high and thought it would just be good fun. “What are these?”

“My favorite pictures of you.”

His tone was so soft yet his gaze on you was so hard. You remember how he slowly looked over the photographs with an intensity that left you unsure what to do. Nudes and sex selfies of yourself had never made you self conscious during the relationship but you worried if this was meant to be some sort of blackmail. Keigo didn’t seem the type for revenge porn but the possibility of it still hurt you.

“You never pose for me anymore, dove. It makes me a little sad. I miss that part of our relationship.”

There was nothing playful or joyful about getting your picture taken anymore. Keigo had ruined that beyond repair. He frightened you into being scared of being photographed by him. Just because you weren’t willing to have your picture taken by him doesn’t mean that you were allowed to deny him however. The first few times you resisted, you were learning about Keigo’s true temper underneath all the easy-going breeziness that was instilled as a means of masking his true intentions.

If you had to take a few measly photos then you’d deal with it, it was just Keigo’s impeccable timing that made you reluctant to cooperate. It was often at times that you weren’t prepared mentally for the task because he insisted on candids. And when he takes a photo with you looking upset, Keigo in turn gets his feelings hurt that the pictures don’t come out like they used to. If you were going to make him happy, you had to gather the mental energy to do so.

Taking photos then and taking photos now was so different.

Thinking about this, your chest tightens and you feel an invisible pressure on you that’s weighed down on you since you were locked away in this luxury apartment.

You remember being escorted through the hallways to the front door of your prison, the men around you hired from the very people who had trained, raised, and invested in the beloved Pro Hero Hawks. It was an agreement that you had no choice but to agree to. It was of no issue to shackle down one quirkless girl to keep their invested project from going rogue.

Your job was simple enough: keep him happy.

Keep him happy and you will be cared for, none of your personal information would be ousted.

They threatened to make you a pariah with just a click of their fingers and all because Keigo didn’t know how to handle a breakup. If you had known that it was going to be the result of falling for Keigo Takami, you would have never looked his way in the first place. You wouldn’t have been lulled by his quick wit and humor, and you would have never unknowingly signed your life away to a Pro Hero that all of the country fawns over. Even though he is the other half of the relationship, the public would immediately take his side because he is someone important and you are not.

When you stepped into the luxury apartment, there were balled up pieces of trash that littered the floor. There was a crinkling that you could hear further down but you were reluctant to investigate at first. Your escorts provided no help, only having done their job and promptly shut the door to your prison. When you picked one piece up, you slowly unfurled it only to find it to be a photograph of yourself a few years ago. It was taken with a group of friends for a going away party for one of them. The next one was of you just lounging in a beach chair and then another was of you captured when you were mid-laugh.

All photographs of you.

Keigo sat on the couch when you walked further into the apartment, just nonchalantly taking pictures out of a photo album from your apartment and crumpling them first before throwing them aside.

“I want these to be filled with only us now, okay? I don’t like thinking that you had a life before me.”

You had a life before him, one that was fulfilling even if it did come with some painful parts. There were regrets and mistakes before but it was your life and you cherished it. Truly you had wanted to fit Keigo somewhere inside your life, tried to realign his piece where you thought it should fit but the two of you were from different worlds. He had an invisible hand hovering above him to tell him how to navigate his world both on the surface and underneath, and you had freedom.

You had freedom but it was dashed away the moment you decided to break things off with Keigo.

He took it away.

These words have rung throughout your mind ever since Keigo locked you into this prison. They weigh heavily on you as you stare out the floor to ceiling windows, looking out towards the other high rises and down to the concrete ground where the civilians, other heroes, and sidekicks walk with no clue that you wished you were among them. It repeats over and over as you scrub yourself underneath the shower spray and lather fancy soaps and shower oils into your skin.

Keigo had gone to his agency upset with you.

He had woken you up with the flash of his camera and it had disturbed you. All he had wanted was just a simple photo of you sleeping, that’s all. The only thing you had to do was just close your eyes and play the part but you turned away with a quiet plea to let you rest. Even with your eyes shut, you must have still looked stressed so you didn’t look the part of a peacefully sleeping girlfriend when Keigo tried to ready the camera for another photo.

The film camera was slammed down on Keigo’s side of the nightstand and he left home without another word.

When he used to take pictures of you sleeping back when you were happy, you’d rouse with a playful ‘fuck off’ but happily pose for Keigo. Now it just felt violating when he tried to recreate what you thought was innocent before. Even with all the disgust you have, it’s still expected of you to do as he wants.

Keigo still wants the relationship to continue on as if you’re not threatened by the safety commission to remain with him, to act like this is all your own will.

You managed to salvage photographs of your old life, it’s the only thing you can hold onto that reminds you that you had freedom and your own will to do things. They’re hidden in your own special place, a little area that you’re sure to never give away because Keigo would be mad that you held onto something of your life before him. Photos of you living your life before Keigo Takami ever came along.

The ruined lines of the pictures make you upset since they were so pristine before but it’s all you have.

Staring at the you in those pictures makes you jealous but then also with pity.

If only she’d known what was in her future. If only you could touch this photo and tell yourself in the past, “Do not fall for the Winged Hero Hawks.”

You can’t allow yourself to wallow though; Keigo will be home soon and you need to put him in a good mood.

So you tuck your old pictures away and go through your walk in closet. There’s a drawer of intimates that are specifically Keigo’s favorites. He appreciated all forms of lingerie on you but his favorites were sheer nighties with the matching colored thongs. So you pluck one out from a drawer and discard the silk robe to dress yourself instead. You build up the mental strength for when Keigo will come back home and you’ll need to do your part to make sure that he’s a happy man.

“Keigo! Ew, what if it comes out ugly! You have to tell me when you’re taking a picture of me!”

“Nonsense baby,” Keigo would chuckle and ready the camera again, “you always look perfect to me.”

You do miss the happy times with Keigo but you couldn’t recreate them anymore after everything that happened.

Inside the apartment you can hear Keigo having just come home so you take in a breath to steel yourself before presenting yourself to him. Taking the film camera on his side of the bed, you hold it in your hands as you walk out to greet Keigo. You try not to be scared when his eyes naturally look to you coming out from the hallway, his eyes drawing up and down before he sees the camera in your hands. “I’m home.” He announces as is the usual custom of any person returning from the outside.

“Welcome back Keigo,” you greet him and slowly pad your way over to him, “thank you for all your hard work today.”

Not that you know what his work always entails now that you know the hero commission is the one that handles many of the biggest cover ups and secrets that are supposed to serve the interest of society. The world of a hero was a much darker place than you had imagined it to be. It was more than just taking down bad guys in the streets and being a symbol of protection; there were dirty and bloody secrets kept at bay to keep the image of hero pristine.

You are one of them after all, a dirty secret to keep the number two hero happy and compliant to work under the commission.

“What’s all this?” Keigo asks with a touch of wariness but also an excitement that you’ve learned to recognize in your time together with him. He’s shrugging off his jacket after dispersing his feathers off and discarding his gloves as you approach, some of his feathers tickling your face as they float around you when you get close enough to him. “Lovebird?”

Keep your composure. Make him happy.

“I… I’m really sorry about this morning Kei. I was just in a bad mood and I took it out on you. Lemme make it up to you?” You ask in your sweetest voice. You reach one hand up to take off his glasses and headphones, setting them aside on the most nearby surface before brushing your hand through his feathery hair.

Waiting with bated breath, you wonder if he’ll be happy or if he’ll still be upset.

When he turns his face to kiss your palm, you’re relieved that it will go in a good direction.

“You really hurt my feelings this morning but I forgive you. You’re so lucky that I love you so much.” He forgives you, adoration shining in his eyes but you can see the twisted affection that’s mixed in as well. It does not sit well with you, it stirs uncomfortably in your stomach, but you can not fight him nor could you run away.

You agreed to this after all, to be his caged bird and let him believe that this life was the best for you.

Taking him by the wrist, you walk with him past the windows that overlook the city. The city that he protects, the city that you wished to be a part of again. You guide him to the bedroom where you’ve set up for what looks like a romantic date. There’s flower petals sprinkled onto the bed and candles lit, two wine glasses sit on a fancy wooden tray along with the wine bottle.

It almost looks like you’re on a honeymoon.

“Oh lovebird, all this for me? This is why you’re the sweetest.”

God, you wish you could just smash that glass over his head and run out the door. You wished there was some place you could hide and never be found. You wished that Keigo used to be his normal self before this.

You hand him his glass and clink yours against his, taking a sip to at least make you a bit more relaxed so that you could give him what he wants. “Easy baby, don’t drink too fast.” He reminds you after sipping and swirling the red in his glass. But you need to do this fast, get this over with so that you can rest as peacefully as you can.

“Sit on the bed for me, drink it slowly okay.”

Keigo sets down his glass on the wooden tray and readies the camera towards you. You had a friend that would take boudoir photo shoots, you’d attended with them before to watch them direct the model to look sultry and sensual. Thinking back on the memories, you can hear their guiding voice as you pose for the first photo.

The wine glass is emptied and your mind is fuzzy already, you’re grateful that you’re a lightweight. All you needed was just that first glass to get through the excruciating start. It makes it easier to do all this, tilting your head a certain way, posing your hand against your lips, lifting the sheer skirt of the mighty to tease with a flash of the pretty lace underneath. At one point your glass is refilled and you’re grateful that more alcohol will make it easier on your poor, stressed mind.

Photo after photo taken until Keigo is satisfied.

“Fuck baby, you turn me on so much. I’m glad we did this.”

Strangely enough, you’re turned on too but you believe that it’s the wine that makes your head swim with desire. Your drunk mind sees Keigo’s glass that he hasn’t bothered to pick back up and drink, mindlessly reaching and going for a third glass for the evening. There’s too much enthusiasm in how you attempt to polish off Keigo’s drink, a drop of the wine dripping down and then falling onto the sheer nightie. “Ah baby, slow down. You got some on you.” Keigo chastises you lightly.

Keigo takes away the glass along with the tray off the bed. Wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, you lick off the traces of wine first before looking down and sighing down at the single drop of red wine. You lick at your thumb and see if you can rub the spot off even though you know that it needs to be treated with club soda first before giving it a wash.

“Baby, let’s get that off you alright? Can’t have you wearing this now.” Keigo’s hands are gentle as he slips the nightie off of you and a few feathers carry it to the laundry basket inside the walk-in closet. More feathers slowly separate from his wings but fall gently down on top of your body as you lie back. They tickle you and feel so soft as they land on top of your skin. With the wine in your system and your inhibitions lowered, you look exactly how he’s wanted you to when taking photos.

Soft and vulnerable, almost close to the person you used to be before you became a prisoner.

All that’s missing was the love in your eyes but he’ll settle for your stupid, drunk gaze at this moment.

“God, you drive me wild… you know that right? I thought about you all day,” Keigo mutters more to himself but you manage to catch his words, “I was so mad at first. I just want us to be happy but you’re so much more difficult these days. I do everything for you and I can’t believe how ungrateful you were!”

Your eyes watch as a feather takes position in his hand and recognize how it hardens to a sharpened edge. His feathers are soft but they can cut through stone like butter if he willed it. It’s held close to your neck and you instinctively cower from it. You’ve never seen his feathers do any harm and you wouldn’t like to know what it would feel like. “I’m sorry… I said I was sorry!” You start to sniffle, “Keigo, I’m sorry…”

His anger melts away and then suddenly he’s dropped himself on top of you with the feathers softly dropping by your head. His head nuzzles into the crook of your neck and he grips the bedsheets right by your head. This is what it’s like with Keigo now, to stand on your tiptoes around him and be ready for any mood swing he has. And he seems to only have two: either insanely lovesick or just resentfully in love with you.

You’re not comfortable with either but you know which one you would rather deal with.

When he barges into your personal space and nuzzles you with affection even when you don’t want to be touched, you’d prefer that over when he’s disappointed in you. That when he gives you the cold shoulder and he gazes at you with a lot of love and just as much disgust when you don’t act right, it’s more stressful to make up with him and make him happy with you again.

Because in the end that’s what you are there for.

It’s what the hero commission demanded of you.

Make Hawks happy and keep him happy.

So you hold Keigo close to you, your hand curling to the nape of his neck while the other rubs circles over his back. Your touch makes him melt and you hear a happy little sigh from him that it’s almost relieving to hear. When you feel his lips press to the pulse of your neck, you turn your head so that Keigo has more access to do as he pleases. The wine makes it easier for you to allow this to happen but it also makes you a bit more sensitive. He elicits sounds out of you that you aren’t sure yourself are acting from your end or genuine. Because Keigo has a talent for blurring the lines for you.

Underneath the fear you have for him, there’s still a bare string of love that hasn’t died. Love for him that he doesn’t deserve with what he’s done to you, but it remains even when you cry in your prison.

You tell yourself that relying on that last shred of affection of who Keigo used to be is what will be your survival tactic.

“Wanna kiss you, c’mon.” Keigo is capturing your lips before you have a chance to say anything. It’s not like you’d have the option to say no to him anyway. The wine in your bloodstream makes you a little lazy, just letting yourself receive his kisses rather than show equal enthusiasm. But your hands wander up his arms, touching his shoulders before sliding down to a zipper that lies at the back of his shirt.

This part is familiar to you as it is to him.

It’s an easy chore for him to move his feathers out the way when he either dresses or undresses himself. It’s what comes with having a quirk like his and it’s not something he’s had to think about at this point in his life. You pull the zipper down from the back and Keigo does the work of undressing the top half of his body, shrugging his arms out the sleeves before tossing the shirt aside. One hand presses into the space beside your head, the other hand taking yours right at his belt buckle. “Undo it for me.”

Your fingers are a little clumsy but you complete the task, pulling his belt from the loops and tossing it off the bed.

“This is yours, I’ve been waiting to give it to you.” Keigo mutters lowly as he smooths his hand over the print of where his cock lies. “Do you deserve it though? After making me mad this morning?”

You don’t want to be reminded of how upset he was nor do you want him to bring it up. You’re doing what you’re supposed to; being soft and compliant, wearing the clothes he wants, and just trying to avoid making him angry. The wine, the camera, and lingerie are all for his pleasure and none of yours.

“Is this… not enough?” you ask, your mind struggling to find the words at first, “You’re not happy that I did this?”

You’re given a gentle smile and he chuckles, like he thinks you’re being silly. His hand cups at your breast, the pad his thumb ghosting over your nipple and awes how it hardens under his touch. He says nothing to your question, he’s allowed to not answer your questions but you have to answer every one of his.

So when he asks, “You want me happy, right?”

You reply, “Yes, I want you to be happy.”

Keigo tells you, “Say you’re mine and that you love me.”

You have to repeat, “I’m yours and I love you.”

Keigo melts over your words and for now, it smothers the scary glint in his eyes that you’re too wary of. He’s sick on whatever his version of love is for you and you need to make him happy. The tip of your finger draws along the lace of the panties you still wear, catching his attention and a lustful groan breaches his lips. “‘M horny Kei… want you.” you mutter.

“Yeah? Can you show me? Go back to the pillows and show me, okay?”

You crawl towards the headboard where all the soft pillows lay. He doesn’t see how you’re blinking to get your bearings in order, flopping against the pillows and opening your legs for him. Pulling the panty to the side with one hand, you shudder as you drag a finger against your pussy and keep your eyes lowered rather than on him.

One finger teases into you as you hear Keigo unzip his pants, deciding to discard the rest of his clothes and he wraps his hand around his cock. He slowly strokes himself while his eyes are trained in between your legs.

Keigo watches as you finger yourself for him, drinking in all the whines that you yourself are unsure are for his entertainment or if you actually are enjoying yourself. Because it does feel good to finger yourself but it’s only being done since you had to make it up to him. There is no such thing anymore as Keigo apologizing to you for when you’re upset.

“Baby, you are such a pretty thing.” He mutters more to himself than to you. A feather floats into his hand and he crawls towards you. Just like before, the feather suddenly sharpens and you become scared. Your body seizes and you’re about to beg Keigo to not hurt you but he shushes you before anything is said.

He slices off the panty you were wearing, careful not to knick you and pulls the flimsy little thing off you easily.

You’re relieved when the feather softens and it drops gently to the top of the bed.

“Why were you scared?” Keigo asks, his tone of voice hard and his eyes narrowing at you.

Oh god, maybe you shouldn’t have drunk all that whine to relax you. You stutter over your words, speaking before your mind can actually produce a thought. “I thought you were gonna punish me…”

“Punish you?”

You nod your head dumbly, “‘Cause I made you mad today. You were right to be mad. I made you mad.”

A few tense seconds pass.

His hands are gentle as he rests them on your thighs, his touch reassuring and he coos over you. “You are such a good little bird. What did I do to deserve you?” He asks, pulling your hand towards his lips so he can suck the slick off your fingers.

You don’t deserve me. You took me away from my life.

“I um… don’t know. I’m just me.”

“And that’s all you have to be. You don’t have to think or do anything for yourself anymore. Just be you.” Keigo states for you. He moves to lie on his stomach, making himself comfortable as he starts to lick at your pussy with his hands resting on your lower belly. He does it gently, he’s always done it gently first before he gets more enthusiastic, working you up until you end up a whiny mess.

The sounds you make as he eats you out are real. They’re not made from an intention to lull him to a sense of calm; they are actually real. Keigo has always been genuine in wanting you to feel good, it’s where he puts most of his heart into. Everything else has changed but him wanting you to still enjoy sex has remained the same. He’s a giver in this sense but you can’t forget how much he’s taken from you.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you whisper, one of your hands tangling in his hair and the other grasping his hand. Your hips shift in want, writhing and grinding onto him as you get closer and closer to that peak.

If only this were like before everything had changed. Before he locked you away with all your rights taken away. As giving as he was, even if you hadn’t planned to break up with him, would he have taken away your life eventually? Done it little by little until it was too late to notice?

If you could fight him, you would.

“Oh fuck, I need you right now. So badly, you want me too right?”

But you let him take from you in order to live another day. To keep your sanity in check, you pretend when he kisses you that it’s the old Keigo that used to make you feel safe. He brings you to that high even though your mind is swimming. Your head is in a daze and you’re drunk and dying for him to let you reach that peak of heaven.

He drags you by your hips to pull you closer to him. Keigo wants to be in missionary and your brain rattles a little inside your skull. You’re drunk, whining as you attempt to focus your gaze, feeling feathers on the bed and just wanting to rest now at this point. You haven’t done much but you never have much energy these days when your mind is so stressed out. “Keigo. Kei, ‘m dizzy…”

“It’s okay, I won’t be too rough then.”

He leans down to give you a little peck before readying himself before you. The tip pushes in and you groan, feeling how he shallowly thrusts into you, like he’s teasing and making you want it. You’re not sure if you do but you have to act like it for him. So you beg him in the way that he likes, your voice a little pitched and breathless, telling him that you’re aching to be full of him. Missed you, I missed you, I miss you.

“Okay dove, okay. I’m here, see? Feel me here?” Keigo punctates the last word, sharply pushing himself into you with a grunt. He’s sheathed fully inside and he’s absolutely lovesick all over again as he looks down at you. “You miss me?”

I miss the old you.

“Mm-hmm… don’t leave me. Stay here.” you beg of him.

Words you used to say to him before everything changed. When you and him would make love before and you knew that he had to go back to the outside, you’d beg him so much to stay another day with you. To leave all the work to his sidekicks and make another sex video or take nude photos to put away in a secret box. Your head replays old memories of before as Keigo fucks you slowly, the sensual way in how he moves his hips into you making your eyes roll to the back of your head and you realize that you’re not acting anymore in the moment. “I’m about to cum, I’m gonna cum!”

He’s brought you to heaven in this hell.

Keigo tells you to keep cumming for him, rocking harder into you, cursing how good you feel around him and praising you for being such a wonderful little thing for him.

Your mind goes blank, voice catching in your throat, and your toes curl.

And then he’s rough, fucking hard into your cunt to meet you where you’re at.

Even after everything, Keigo still is beautiful to you as he cums. His eyes get lidded, the sounds he makes have the butterflies fluttering in you, and you can pretend for just a few seconds that it used to be like before. He used to drop down next to you, breathless but happy, and you’d revel in the short time you had together with him before you had to return to the daily routine of maintaining the life you built.

But now all you have is time to do nothing and all you are is just a bird in a cage.

“I just want a comfortable life for you. I love you, you don’t have to do anything.”

He claims to love you.

That’s why he didn’t like it when you broke up with him, because he says he loves you. That’s why he had to get the commission involved, because he was too heartbroken to continue his hero duties and obsessed even harder over you. That’s why he wants to erase any life you had before him and just fill it with him only in the same way only you consume his thoughts.

Just Keigo.

The high of an intense orgasm has you gasping for breath, almost emotional as you hiccup and tears come to your eyes, and you don’t know where all these emotions are coming from. You try to stop crying because you’re scared Keigo will take it the wrong way. He needs to be happy, it’s why you put yourself through all that.

“Shh baby, it’s okay. You were so good.” Keigo hushes to you without coupling with his usual tender touches. You wipe at your tears, looking up at him just in time to see the camera poised in his hand.

Flash!

A few days later, you look at the photos that were taken of you from that night. Your stomach burns uncomfortably as you look at the pictures, unable to recognize the girl in them knowing fully well that it was you photographed. The very last was Keigo’s favorite, the one of you with tears on your face and looking… beautiful actually.

You look at the photo, admiring it briefly before you turn it over.

For a while the camera goes missing. Keigo finds it later hidden inside your drawer of underwear, but he decides to let it go. All the pictures he took were accounted for, which was what mattered more to him.