#every time someone tags me in one of these i do a little dance

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 2 • JEY USO

author's note: happy valentines' day my beautiful angels💌 I hope you are having an amazing day, whether you have a special someone or not, I love each and every single one of you🥰 part two of SLC is hot and fresh for y'all, just like part one it'll be short n' sweet but with a little bit of heat this time as promised😌 I hope you enjoy and happy reading💗!

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI), time-lapse, slow burn, lap dances, flirty banter, teasing, kissing, touches, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, jey is a certified munch™, daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, mama, baby, babygirl), these mfs don't even know they're in love already (well jey does but cherise? poor baby needs a little help).

word count: 2.6k words

read part one here!

soundtrack playlist

3 months later…

Nursing school wasn’t a walk in the park.

Cherise sat at a cramped desk in the back corner of the library, eyes flickering between the highlighted notes in her textbook, a whiteboard full of her scribbled thoughts, and the lukewarm iced caramel latte beside her. Her braids were up in a bun, her glasses perched low on her nose, her purple scrubs wrinkled against her frame.

Nothing about her in this moment screamed Candy.

No stilettos. No glittering lingerie. No sultry confidence.

Just Cherise.

Quiet, focused, tired as hell.

Balancing school and dancing wasn’t easy, but it paid the bills. The club gave her freedom—let her work when she wanted, let her make rent in a single night sometimes and maybe give her a boost a confidence. It wasn’t forever, but for now? It worked like a charm.

Still, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to only be Cherise.

No stage names. No personas. No men sexualizing her with grabby hands and ravenous looks in their eyes.

No thoughts about a certain wrestler who disappeared on her for months. She hated that she even thought about him. It wasn’t like she expected him to chase her, but still…That night had lingered.

The way he touched her. The way he talked to her, teased her, made her feel like he actually saw her as a human. He was smooth, but it never felt like a pick-up line with him.

And then…nothing.

Not a single glimpse of him at the club since.

She wasn’t pressed, though. She had other things to worry about. Like passing her damn pharmacology exam. Cherise sighed, rubbing her temple. She needed a break.

And a drink.

Which meant…

Back to the club.

♡

Cherise had been backstage, touching up her lip gloss, her hair, and fixing her outfit, when Trinity had strutted up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You got a visitor, sweets.”

"Huh?" Cherise barely glanced up, adjusting the strap of her tiny lace bra. "Who?"

"That fine-ass Samoan you was tryna act like you ain’t been thinkin’ about."

Cherise froze.

Her stomach flipped. Her heart kicked up a notch.

"Shut up."

"I ain’t lyin’." Trinity leaned in, whispering.  "Jey is in VIP right now, waitin’ on you girl. Cherise felt heat creep up her neck. She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, forced her face into Candy’s confident smirk.  "That man ain’t nothin’ special."

Trinity laughed.  "Girl, if you don’t take yo’ ass out there so I can get Jim all to myself…”

So she did.

♡

And when she pushed open that VIP door? He was right there, sitting back on the couch like he owned the place.

Clad in a blue Nike fleece tracksuit. Thick thighs spread wide.  He had a gold grill peeking out when he grinned, one hand resting lazily on his knee, the other draped over the couch.

Looking good as hell.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"Damn, ma… took you long enough." His voice was slow, teasing.

"Didn’t know you still remembered me." She smirked, sauntering closer, deliberately dragging her nails down his chest as she straddled him. "Been a minute, Joshua."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, hands settling right on her hips.  “You miss me, baby?"

"Mmm." She rolled her hips just enough to make him suck in a breath.  "I shouldn’t… but maybe a little."

"That’s cute." His hands slid lower, squeezing the curve of her ass.  "Been busy, mama. Mania comin’ up. You know how it is."

"Do I?" She arched a brow. "I wouldn’t know, since somebody ain’t keep in touch."

"Damn…" Jey chuckled, gripping her tighter. "That what we doin’?  You tryna guilt trip me ‘cause I got a job?"

"I’m just sayin’." She traced the chain around his neck, lips barely brushing his jaw. "I give a man my name and he vanish on me.  Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

"Nah, see it ain’t even like that…” His grip flexed on her hips, voice dipping lower.  "I was tryna be respectful, baby girl."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He smirked, leaning in.  "’Cause the way I wanted you last time? I’d have fucked you silly if we weren’t on a time limit." Cherise shivered, heat flooding her stomach.

Jey felt it too, the way her thighs twitched in his lap.

"Mmm…" He licked his lips, voice thick with heat.  "See that, baby?  You tryna act all tough, but you feel me talkin’ to you, huh?"

"Shut up." She should have more control over this, more restraint, but Jey was dangerous. He could see through her entire ‘Candy’ act like cellophane. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Why? ‘Cause you know I’m right?" Her breath hitched. Jey groaned, voice gravelly. "I’on like unfinished business, baby girl. You left me high and dry last time."

"Maybe I like making you work for it."

"Yeah?" His fingers trailed between her thighs, barely grazing the heat of her pussy.  "Then lemme clock in, mama." Cherise gasped, hips jerking. "Jey-”

"Shhh." He kissed her, slow and deep, groaning into her mouth as he slid his hand into her panties. "Mmm, baby…" His fingers brushed against her slick folds, teasing, just barely pressing inside. "You feel so good, damn."

She whimpered, biting her lip.  "Jey-”

"Nah, I got you, mama."* He sucked at her throat, voice husky.  “I’m gon’ take real good care of you."

Something about the way he said that sentence made her almost want to melt away all of her resolve and let him take complete control over her.

Almost.

A shudder rolled through her. Jey noticed.

“Aww.” His grin was wicked.  “Is that what you need baby?”

Cherise’s breath hitched.  “Just…shut up and do something..”

"Oh, I’ma do more than that."

His fingers found her clit, swollen and throbbing, rubbing the nub in slow circles. Cherise gasped, hips jerking into his touch, her body betraying her even though she wanted to play this game a little longer.

"Shit…" He licked his lips, his free hand gripping her thigh, spreading her wider over his lap.  "You been sittin’ here actin’ like I ain't been on your mind, but this lil’ pussy tellin’ me somethin’ different, mama."

Cherise bit back a whimper, glaring down at him.  "You talk too much."

"And you still soakin’ my hand.” His fingers slid through her slick folds, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure where she needed it.  "Mmm, damn, baby… I missed this."

"You ain’t even had it yet, Jey."

"Not yet." His grin was pure sin, eyes locked on her face as he dipped one thick finger inside her, slowly.  "But I’ma take my time wit’ you.”

Cherise’s head tipped back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips. Jey felt the way she clenched around him, her hips subtly rolling to meet the slow pump of his hand. "That’s it, baby girl…" His voice was dark, husky, dragging his finger out almost all the way before pressing another one inside.  "Let Daddy feel you."

A full-body shudder rolled through her.

Jey smirked. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Cherise bit her lip, cheeks heating, but she wasn’t about to admit anything.

"Mmm." Jey kissed her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her skin as his fingers curled, pressing just right against her g-spot. "Don’t gotta say it, pretty girl.  Your body already tellin’ me everything I need to know."

"Fuck…" Cherise whimpered, fingers curling into his hoodie as pleasure spiked through her. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, mama." Jey’s pace picked up, his fingers thrusting deeper, rougher, messier. "You hear that?" He groaned, grinding his palm against her clit. "Listen to this lil’ pussy, drippin’ all over my hand, damn…"

Cherise could hear it—lewd, sticky, wet sounds echoing in the dimly lit room.

Her breath hitched, hips bucking against his touch. "Jey-“

"Nah, baby, we ain’t done yet." His hand suddenly disappeared from her panties, making her whine at the loss.

Jey grabbed her by the waist and flipped her, laying her back on the couch, his body looming over her, heat radiating from him like a furnace. "Been waitin’ too long for this, mama…" He licked his lips, gaze locked right between her thighs as he spread them apart. "Lemme taste you, baby."

Before she could protest—not that she even wanted to—Jey lowered himself, dragging her panties down to her ankles with his fingers. "Ohhh, fuck…" His voice dropped an octave, eyes dark with pure hunger.  "Goddamn, baby… look at you."

Cherise squirmed under his stare, trying not to let it affect her. "You gon’ eat or just sit there and admire?" Jey chuckled, but his grip on her thighs tightened.  "Nah, I gotta take a second, baby… You just got a pretty fuckin’ pussy baby… shit, I knew you would." She whimpered, clenching at his words.

Jey could sense it.

"Awww, baby…" He grinned, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.  "She likes when I talk to her, huh?” Cherise’s face burned, but before she could throw out a smart remark, Jey’s tongue pressed against her clit.

"Ohhh fuck!” Her hips jerked, but Jey held her down, hands locked around her thighs as he devoured her. "Mmm, there we go…" he moaned into her, lips wrapping around her swollen clit, sucking slow, deep, dirty.  "Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby… goddamn…"

Cherise’s fingers flew to his short curls, gripping tight as he worked her with his tongue.  "Jey… oh my God-“

"Mmm-hmm…" Jey hummed against her, sending vibrations straight to her core. "You like that, baby? Feel good?"

"Y-yeah—fuck—" She gasped, thighs trembling.

Jey smirked against her, dipping lower, tongue dragging through her folds, fucking her with slow, teasing licks. "Mmm, yeah… gon' fuck around and give me a sweet tooth, mama."

Cherise let out a shaky moan, back arching as he flattened his tongue against her again, again, sucking, licking, tasting like he was starving.

"You close, baby girl?" Jey murmured, voice dripping with sin as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right.  "C’mon, mama… make a mess on my tongue."

"Jey—fuck, I’m cumming—ohhhh!" Her body snapped, pleasure ripping through her as her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave. Jey groaned, keeping his tongue and fingers right where she needed them, working her through every aftershock, swallowing every drop of her arousal.

"Mmm, good girl…" His voice was pure gravel, lips shiny with her slick as he finally pulled back, dragging his tongue over his lips like he wanted to savor the taste.  "Damn, I love this lil’ pussy, baby… look at her, still twitchin’ for me…"

Cherise could barely move.

Her legs shook, body weak, head spinning.

Jey grinned, leaning down, kissing her slow, deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "See what you been missin’, mama?" She hummed against his lips, still floating. "Mmm… maybe you should remind me again…"

Jey chuckled, nipping at her bottom lip.  "You bad, girl…"

A sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

"Time’s up, Candy!”

Jey let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead against hers.  "Man… fuck."

Cherise giggled breathlessly, brushing her fingers down his jaw.  "Guess that’s my cue.”

The knock on the door lingered in the room like an unwelcome intruder. Cherise sighed, pushing her trembling thighs together, body still buzzing from the way Jey had just worked her like he owned her.

This man is dangerous.

Jey sat back on the couch, one arm slung across the top, legs still spread like he had all the time in the world.  His smirk was lazy, smug, and damn near irresistible.

"Time’s up, huh?" He licked his lips, his hand sliding down his face as he looked her over. "They ain’t even let me finish makin’ you mine, mama."

"Please." Cherise rolled her eyes, smoothing her hands over her thighs before standing on slightly shaky legs. "I think you finished plenty, Joshua."

The way she said his name had him sitting up straighter, that cocky grin softening into something warmer.  "Damn, you really like callin’ me that huh?”

"What else would I call you?" she teased, bending slightly to grab her panties and pull them back up to her hips.

His gaze didn’t miss a thing, the soft, teasing shift of her voice, the way her hands moved over her body.

"I could think of a few things." His tone was low, playful, with just enough edge to let her know he wasn’t entirely joking.  "Daddy would sound real good comin’ from your mouth."

Cherise’s lips parted, blood rushing to her ears, but she only shook her head and smirked as she reached for his hand.  "You gon’ keep playin’, or you gon’ let me write this number down before I change my mind?"

"Go on, then." He handed her a pen, his gaze steady as she took his hand, her nails lightly grazing his palm as she began writing. "I don’t usually do this," she murmured, her voice quieter now, softer than her Candy facade. "You better not make me regret it."

Jey tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Mama, you really think I’d fumble somethin’ like this?"

"Mmm, I guess we’ll see." She capped the pen, slipping it back to him, but didn’t pull her hand away just yet.  Her fingers lingered against his for a moment longer, and when she looked up, Jey was staring at her like she was his whole world.

"Get home safe," she said softly, her voice more Cherise than Candy now.

"You too, pretty girl."* He gave her a smile, the kind that wasn’t cocky but genuine, the kind that made her stomach flip.  "Don’t be actin’ shy when I hit your line, though."

She laughed quietly, adjusting her skimpy outfit.  "I’ll think about it."

And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving him alone in the quiet heat of the VIP room.

♡

The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city drifting in through the cracked window.  Cherise lays in bed, tangled in her cozy blankets, her body still sore, her mind still replaying the night in vivid detail.

She didn’t even know why she’d given him her number. It completely out of character for her. She didn’t do things like this—getting caught up with clients, letting them get under her skin.

But Jey…

Joshua.

Something about him felt different.

Her phone vibrated on the pillow beside her, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the darkness.

Her heart skipped.

She reached for it, thumb swiping over the screen, and there it was.

Unknown number: You still up, baby girl?

She smiled, biting her lip as she stared at the text for a moment.  Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Cherise: Maybe. Why? 👀

The three little dots appeared immediately.

Jey: ’Cause I’m thinkin’ bout you. 😘

Her stomach flipped.

Cherise: Oh really?

Jey: Hell yeah. Shit, I can still taste you on my lips, baby girl. 👅

Her cheeks burned, her thighs pressing together at the memory.

Cherise: You’re ridiculous🙄

Jey: Nah, I’m serious. Been waitin’ three months to see you again, and now all I can think about is how bad I wanna see you outta that club.

Cherise blinked, rereading the text twice, her breath catching in her throat.

He wanted to see her again?  Outside the club?

Cherise: I don’t know if that’s a good idea…

The reply came almost instantly.

Jey: Why not? You scared I’ma make you fall in love wit’ me?😏

She rolled her eyes at the screen, but her heart was beating a little too fast.

Cherise: Boy, goodnight. 

Jey: Goodnight, pretty girl.  Sweet dreams. ♥️

She set the phone down beside her, staring at the ceiling with a quiet smile on her lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But damn, it felt good.

taglist: @bebesobrielo @zillasvilla @harmshake @amandairene88 @pr0tost4r @skyesthebomb @cyberdejos2 @4milly @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @bloodlinesbabe93 @punksyeet @xbriexx @li-da-savage @partypoison00 @theusotwinzcom @fearlesschimera @luvrsluxe @kiki1704 @chasssssworld @a6mberr @empressdede @clubsoft @ctinadiva @acknowledge-reigns @queeny23 @ariiaellbtheedonn @luuvprincess @brianochka

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[m-jelly]

Hey jelly! I hope you're having a lovely day, so I was listening a song and I got an idea! Levi and y/n are childhood friends, Levi start to develop Crush on her but too scared to confess to her, y/n loves for songs since she was child, Levi sometimes sees her with headphones bobbing her head, one day Levi was taking a walk at the forest until he heard someone singing, he sees y/n singing 'come and get your love by redbone' and doing her little dance

@ladycheesington <3

A few firsts

Levi x fem reader

Modern AU, teen romance, fluff

Levi catches you dancing in the woods as you sing along to your music. Levi's feelings bubble over and you share a few firsts.

Levi kicked a small stone on the woodland path as his thoughts raced. Soon school would be over and you'd be moving on to university or working. He tried to live a life where the choices he made he'd regret the least, but he wasn't really living up to those words.

He was deeply and madly in love with you, his childhood friend, and has yet to confess. Every waking moment was spent fixated on you, all his choices were linked to you and everything he liked. He adored you and you'd become such a massive part of his life. Before he knew it, he'd fallen hard for you.

Soft singing broke his messy thoughts and made it clear. He followed the pleasurable singing until he reached the most beautiful view. You were in the middle of an opening of the trees lined with flowers and a small creek. You were dancing and singing to yourself as you enjoyed your little world.

You twirled around as you sang and noticed Levi watching. You squealed before stopping and yanking your headphones off. "Levi! Hi!" Your heart raced. "Was not expecting you." You gulped a little. "Kind of embarrassed."

He moved closer to you. "I liked it."

"R-Really?" You shifted as Levi got closer. "I-I'm not the best dancer and singer."

"It was cute."

You looked up at him. "C-Cute?"

He nodded as he played with your hair. "It was cute. You're cute."

"I ah." You felt dizzy, this was a dream coming true for you. Your childhood friend, whom you loved more than a friend, was calling you cute. "Th-thank you."

"Can I dance with you?"

"S-Sure."

He took his jacket off. "Could we use your phone for music?"

You placed your headphones on his jacket and played some softer music. "Here. This okay?"

He pulled you close and started slow dancing. "Yeah...ummm." His cheeks burned. "S-Sorry if I'm not good. I've never done this before."

"First time slow dancing?"

"Mm."

You smiled at him. "Me too." You nibbled your lip. "If it means anything, I think you're really good."

"Th-thanks." He danced with you but kept gazing at your lips. Everything within Levi was telling him to kiss you, but he wouldn't dare just do it. "Hey, um...can...could...uh." He cleared his throat as nerves prickled his body. "I want to kiss you." He looked away from you as a blush consumed him. "I want to kiss you so bad 'cause I've liked...loved you for so long. It's okay if you don't want to."

You cupped the side of Levi's face, turned his head so he looked at you and then you kissed him lightly. You pulled back and whined. "I love you too. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time. I'm sorry if that was bad, it was my first kiss."

His heart raced. "It was mine too."

You gripped his shirt and hummed. "Do you want to do it again?"

He wrapped his arms around you. "Fuck yes. I ah...I mean, yes please."

You giggled. "Don't ever change, Levi."

He tilted his head and leaned closer. "I'll do my best."

The two of you kissed in the middle of the clearing, and the world around you faded away as you shared a clumsy kiss that soon became filled with love and confidence. The kiss went from sweet and innocent to something more passionate causing your bodies to tingle with delight.

Finally, you were together.

Tags under

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[kaiju-naut]

[tag nine people you want to get to know better!]

Tagged by: @nowiknowthislooksbad HEHE tyy!!

Last song: Something Has to Happen (Mr. Scoops)

Favorite color: Pink :) like pastel

Currently reading: Krakoa-era x-men comics! Specifically x-men, hellions, and Wolverine

Currently watching: Finished Wolverine and the X-men a lil bit ago, haven't dedicated myself to anything specific since :) been thinking abt picking Miami Vice back up!

Last movie: Transformers One (i need to see it again)

Sweet/ Spicy / Savory: Sweet !! I don't do well with spicy :(

Relationship status: Singleee

Current obsessions: X-men and the DCA!

Tea or Coffee: ough, Coffee but I drink a lot of sweet tea too

Last thing you googled: snake skeletons for art reference!

tagging (no pressure!!!)

@sinisternoodles101 @forgetmenautical @mitathemita @bionicboxes @biggiesnails @amarynthian-fortress @chickenchirps27 @crystalmagpie447 uhhhh and anyone else who feels like participating!! Sorry if any of you guys already got pinged in one of these <3

[connorsui]

Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

[chancloud8]

Lose My Breath

Pairing: han jisung x reader x lee know

Word count: 5,5k

Summary: for their youtube series where they look for new hobbies, Jisung and Minho come to your studio for a lesson in pole dancing. neither of them expected to find more than a new hobby..

Tags: youtubers!minsung, pole dancer!reader, established minsung, fluff, smut, nsfw, 18+, fingering, oral (f), a bit of m/m kissing, threesome, nipple play, vaginal sex, mirror sex, creampie, pet names -sorry if i forgot anything!-

a/n: happy birthday to the lovely @staylovesmiley this one is for you! <3

‘Good morning lovely people,’ Jisung grins into the vlogging camera he’s holding. ‘Today Minho and I are going to try out a new activity in our quest to find a new hobby.’ 

You watch in silence as the gorgeous man who walked into your studio about fifteen minutes ago, explains to their audience what they’re about to do. He’s dressed in some loose grey sweatpants and a black tank top that shows off his broad shoulders. His black hair is tousled and he’s wearing black eyeliner that’s making his eyes pop. 

‘He’s a stunning little creature, isn’t he?’ a voice whispers next to you and you jump in surprise, bringing up your hand to cover your chest where your heart is beating so fast you can feel it thump against your palm.

‘You scared me,’ you laugh softly, not wanting to interrupt Jisung who’s still babbling to the camera and showing everyone the room. 

‘Sorry,’ Minho grins, bumping his shoulder against yours. ‘I have very quiet feet and you were pretty distracted by my man doing what he loves.’ 

You feel your cheeks heat at being caught staring at someone else’s boyfriend. Jisung and Minho are a very popular Youtube couple and you’ve been following them for years, silently crushing on both men as they made their way through life with their own camera’s following their every move. 

‘Oh, look who finally decided to join us!’ Jisung says then, turning the camera to you and Minho. ‘Say hi, baby.’ 

‘Hi,’ Minho says, waving a peace sign next to his face as his lips turn up in a small smile. 

‘And this is y/n, she will be teaching us today,’ Jisung introduces you and you too wave at the camera. 

Jisung turns the camera to himself again. ‘Wish us luck,’ he grins and then he lowers his arm and shuts off the camera. ‘Okay I’m all ready now.’

‘Did you bring any shorts like I requested in the email?’ you ask them, eyeing the sweats they’re both wearing. They may look ridiculously good in them, but wearing pants like that did not go well together with pole dancing.

‘Oh yes, we’re wearing some underneath,’ Minho says and then he promptly pushes down his sweatpants, revealing black athletic shorts. 

You blink and Jisung giggles. 

‘Min, baby, you can’t just start undressing in front of y/n,’ Jisung says, reaching over to help his boyfriend pull his pants over his shoes. 

‘I’m wearing shorts? It’s not like I’m naked,’ Minho mumbles, but his ears turn red. 

‘It’s fine,’ you smile at them. ‘I’ve seen it all after six years of dancing and teaching.’ 

Jisung makes a face as he too gets rid of his sweatpants, leaning heavily on Minho as he pushes them off his feet. ‘I can’t even imagine how some people probably show up to pole dance.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t want to know,’ you laugh, not missing the curious glint in either of their eyes. 

You put on some soft music and start warming up, instructing the man what movements are best to prep their muscles and they easily fall into your warm up routine. 

‘Very good,’ you praise them when you’re done. ‘Do you want me to show you the whole routine I’ll be teaching you first or would you rather I’ll take you through it step by step?’ 

‘Routine,’ Minho says at the same time as Jisung goes; ‘Step by step.’ 

They look at each other and for a moment they seem to have a whole conversation with just their eyes until Minho raises his eyebrows and licks his lips, causing Jisung to let out a little whine, sagging his shoulders as his cheeks turn red. 

‘Routine first,’ Jisung agrees and you let your eyes wander between the two of them. 

Sexual tension seemed to roll off of them and you’re pretty sure that if both you and the camera weren’t here, Minho would have had Jisung pressed up against one of the mirrors in a heartbeat. 

‘What just happened there,’ you ask with a chuckle as you try to ignore what their interaction just did to you. It shouldn’t have been hot, but it was.

‘Nothing,’ Minho smiles. ‘Please show us the routine.’ 

Pushing away your feelings, you nod and get in position, winking at Jisung who’s still blushing. You start with the pole in front of you and grab onto the cold metal with one hand, easily maneuvering your body around it until your back is against the pole. You move your hips in a sensual way and reach up with your arms before arching your back as you move to lower your body and spread your legs. It’s a pretty sexy, but easy routine and you let your muscles move on auto pilot. 

When you end with your back against the pole again, only slightly out of breath, you can’t help but notice how both men have moved closer. Jisung his mouth is open in a little ‘o’ while Minho has his hands in his pockets, watching you with his head cocked as if he’s trying to figure out how you just did that. 

‘You want us to do that?’ Jisung asks. ‘That was–’ he clears his throat. ‘Very sexy.’ 

‘Agreed,’ Minho nods. 

‘Thank you,’ you smile. ‘And yes I will teach you how to do this.’ 

Jisung frowns, but when Minho pats his butt, he slowly walks towards one of the poles and stands before it like you had. 

‘Put all your fingers together, like this,’ you show them your hand. ‘And place it at forehead level on the pole. ‘Then you go ahead and sink under your arms,’ you instruct, moving your body to get in front of the pole with a sexy sway in your hips. 

When you look back at Jisung and Minho, they are nodding to themselves and get in position, placing their fingers against the metal. Both men follow your instructions and move smoothly to the front of the pole, just like you showed them. 

‘Very good!’ you grin at them, clapping your hands.

You show them the next move and once again they execute it perfectly. 

Jisung beams at you with sparkling eyes and you can’t help but compliment them again. ‘You have great form! I told you, you could do it!’

Jisung giggles and moves on the ball of his feet in excitement. ‘Show us the next move!’  

You go through the next few moves with them, correcting their postures here and there, but overall they take to the routine like a duck to water. 

‘There you go, very nice!’ you compliment the both of them with a little cheer when they finish going through the entire routine for the first time. 

You give them a few more pointers and at Jisung’s request you join them for the entire routine one more time before he goes to the camera’s to shut them off. 

‘That was way more fun than I thought it would be, easier as well,’ Minho admits, sitting down next to you on the floor as you start your cool down stretches. 

‘I haven’t heard someone say it was easier than expected in a long time,’ you chuckle, leaning forward to touch your toes. 

‘Oh,’ Minho frowns. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’ 

You sit up and shake your head with a smile. ‘You didn’t, don’t worry. It’s also been a while since I’ve seen someone take to it so easily, but I guess it makes sense with your dance background.’ 

‘Did I just hear you say we’re naturals?’ Jisung pipes up, letting his body fall to the floor on Minho’s other side, his head resting on his boyfriend's thigh. 

‘Yes,’ you laugh. ‘You have lots to learn, but if you commit to it, I am very sure you’ll be upside down in that pole and spinning around in no time.’ 

‘I’d rather focus on the fact that you know I have dance experience. You watch our videos?’ Minho asks, watching you carefully. 

‘I do,’ you nod, your cheeks heating up until you’re sure you’re as red as a beet. ‘I’ve been following you guys pretty much since the beginning.’ 

'Awww, really?' Jisung coos, sitting up again to also start stretching. ‘That’s so sweet.’ 

‘Why didn’t you say so sooner?’ Minho asks. 

You shrug and lift your arms above your head to stretch your back and shoulders. ‘You didn’t ask and I was being professional I guess.’ 

They both smile at you and the three of you chat about their channel for a while as you lead them through a cool down. 

‘Do you have any more lessons after this?’ Jisung asks when the three of you get up again and you offer them a bottle of water from your mini fridge. 

You look at your watch. ‘I do, but not for a few hours.’ 

Jisung shares a look with Minho. ‘Would you want to join us for lunch?’ 

‘Oh, uhm sure,’ you nod. ‘Why not!’ 

*******

In the next few weeks Minho and Jisung come back about twice a week for more lessons from you. Sometimes they film, sometimes they don’t and you love watching them grow each week, picking up on the movements quicker than any of your other students. They often bring you coffee or homemade treats that Minho made and you can comfortably say that the three of you have developed a bit of a friendship. 

There’s lingering touches sometimes and heated gazes when they watch you do your thing on the pole, but not once have they been inappropriate. They make you feel seen, sexy and safe. 

‘I have a question,’ Jisung says on a Thursday evening when you’ve just finished your lesson. 

‘Mhm,’ you hum, moving into your stretch. 

‘What do you think about us? I mean, how do you feel about us?’ 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask, sitting up so you can look at him. ‘Are you asking if I like you? Because of course I do. I’m very happy the two of you came into my life and I’d like to think we’re friends.’ 

‘Friends,’ Jisung mumbles and his brows furrow. ‘Right.’ 

You tilt your head in question. ‘Was that not what you wanted to hear? You don’t think we’re friends?’ 

Jisung’s eyes widen and he crawls closer to you, already having finished his stretches. ‘No, no I didn’t mean it like that! I love that you consider us friends, I just..’ he bites his lip nervously and glances at his boyfriend. 

Minho chuckles from your other side. ‘What he was meant to ask was, are you attracted to us?’ 

You nearly choke on your own spit at the unexpected question and you start coughing violently. Minho gently pats your back and Jisung hands you a bottle of water, his cheeks are red, but his eyes are hopeful. 

‘Sorry,’ you mumble when you finally feel like you can breathe again. ‘Did you just ask me if I think you’re hot?’ 

Minho lets out a laugh and Jisung giggles. 

‘Basically,’ Minho nods. 

‘Wow, okay,’ you mumble, taking another sip of water. ‘I mean, how can I not? Have you seen yourselves?’ 

The two of them share another look and Jisung scoots even closer to you until his knee touches your thigh. 

‘So you are attracted to us?’ Jisung repeats Minho’s question. 

Nervous butterflies swirl in your stomach and you suddenly feel hot all over by the way they both stare at you with the same heated gaze you’ve seen before. 

‘I- yes,’ you admit, licking your lips. ‘I am.’ 

Jisung smiles and beams at Minho, causing the older to chuckle at his boyfriend and lean closer to you to reach out and pinch Jisung his chin. ‘Patience, baby.’ 

‘I’m not patient and you know it,’ Jisung pouts and both Minho and you laugh at his sad face. 

Minho lets go of Jisung and places his hand on your thigh. His touch immediately heats up your entire leg and when you look down to see his long fingers against your bare leg, you nearly groan out loud. 

‘We have a question for you, pretty,’ Minho says, his voice sounds lower than usual and it makes you shiver. ‘And I need you to answer honestly, can you do that?’ 

You nod and look up at him, meeting his eyes. ‘I can.’ 

‘Good,’ he smiles. ‘If you say no, I promise there will be no hard feelings between us and we can still be friends.’ 

Your mouth suddenly feels dry and you wish you were still holding onto that bottle of water, but you nod again anyway. 

‘You see,’ Jisung starts, placing his hand on your other thigh. ‘We’ve had this fantasy for a while now, but never found the right person.’ 

‘But now we did,’ Minho continues. ‘You fit with us perfectly and we both like you very much.’ 

Jisung nods enthusiastically, his fingers tightening on your thigh a bit. ‘We’re kind of hoping that you feel the same way about us.’  

You blink at them, your head moving left to right to look at them both. ‘I’m flattered, but I’m not sure what you’re asking of me? Is it sex? A one night stand? A relationship?’ 

‘For now it’s sex,’ Minho grins. ‘But we’re open to more if it leads to that.’ 

‘Alright,’ you say, nodding slowly, your thoughts racing about as loud as your heartbeat. ‘And you want it now?’ 

Jisung lets out a little whine and leans in to press a sweet kiss to your shoulder. ‘We wanted it yesterday, last week, hell the day we met actually, but now works.’ 

You laugh at his ridiculous babbling and place your hand on top of his own. ‘Now works for me as well, but one of you will have to get up to lock the door.’ 

You’ve barely finished the sentence when Jisung jumps up and jogs towards the little hallway where the entrance for your studio is. You giggle at his eagerness before turning towards Minho who’s already looking at you. 

‘You’re sure?’ he asks.

You nod and feeling bold, you move and crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. ‘Oh, I’m sure.’ 

Minho’s hands immediately clasp your hips to pull you even closer, pressing your clothed chores against each other. You bite your lip when you feel how hard he is already and without a second thought you crash your mouth against his. He responds right away, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place against his body while the other moves so he can grab onto the back of your neck. 

‘Hey, you started without me,’ you hear Jisung’s voice say faintly behind you before you feel a strong warmth pressing against your back. 

A hand moves your hair to the side, freeing your neck and a heartbeat later lips are pressed against your skin. Minho slips his tongue inside your mouth when you gasp and a moan escapes your throat as he tangles it with yours while Jisung leaves open mouthed kisses on your neck. 

‘Hmm if I'd known you wanted this, I would have asked earlier,’ Jisung says against your skin while gliding his hands from your sides to your bare thighs and then back upward towards your breasts. 

You can only moan again in response, too busy kissing Minho, which he is obviously very good at. It’s messy, wet and hot and you love every second of it. 

‘Hmm you make such pretty noises,’ Jisung whispers against your neck, his fingers slipping underneath the sports bra you’re wearing. ‘I can’t wait to make you scream when I eat you out.’ 

You arch your back for as far as you’re able to and a violent shiver goes through your body when Jisung teases your nipples, twirling his fingers around the sensitive buds. Minho breaks the kiss and leans back a little so he can look down at where Jisung’s hands disappear underneath your sports bra. 

‘Take it off,’ he says to his boyfriend. 

Jisung does as he says and frees your breasts in one quick motion, slipping the top over your head and throwing it behind him on the floor. 

‘Hmm beautiful,’ Minho mutters, moving his hands to caress your stomach and up towards the underside of your breasts before cupping them. ‘So perfect.’ 

You claw at Minho’s shirt, trying to take it off and make it even. He chuckles at your efforts and leans in to capture your lips again, successfully distracting you from your task. Behind you, you hear the rustling of clothes and when Minho lets go of your lips again, he turns you around and basically drops you in Jisungs lap. 

‘Hello baby,’ Jisung grins, eying your naked breasts that heave with every pant that leaves your mouth. 

He has taken off everything but his boxers and you take a moment to appreciate his lean form, smooth skin and the tattoos that cover his chest. He’s absolutely mouthwatering. 

‘Hi yourself,’ you purr, reaching out to trace the large tattoo on his side. ‘I like your tattoos.’ 

Jisung preens under the compliment and pulls you closer. ‘How much?’ 

Giggling you lean forward to press your lips against the black compass on the left side of his chest. Your tongue sneaks out to trail a wet line all over the ink and Jisung lets out a surprised grunt at the feeling. He grabs onto your neck and pulls you up to kiss you. 

His lips are even softer than Minho’s and you melt into him, moving your hands to his strong shoulders and then to his hair to tangle your fingers in the soft black strands. 

It should surprise you how fast you adapted to this situation with the two men you only met a few weeks ago, but seeing as you’ve been crushing on them for years, it probably wasn’t that hard for your brain to accept. 

A naked chest presses against your back then and hands move from your hips to the front of your black yoga shorts, cupping your clothed pussy. Liquid heat spreads through your entire body and you let out an embarrassing whine against Jisung’s lips when Minho pulls his hand away again to tug at the waistband.

‘Can I take it off?’ he asks, pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. 

You pull back from Jisung’s mouth and giggle when he pouts at you. His lips are swollen and red and his pupils are elated, he looks even prettier than usual like this. 

‘Stand up, baby,’ Minho says and you’re not sure if it's to you or Jisung, but the both of you get up with his help. ‘Good, now take it off.’ 

Minho smirks as once again, both you and Jisung follow his demand. Jisung pulls off his boxers, his dick springing free against his toned stomach, a drop of pre cum already drips down his length and your mouth waters at the sight. You quickly follow his lead and take off your shorts, shedding your underwear as well. 

‘Look at that, I’ve got two lovely stunning creatures now,’ Minho hums, licking his lips as his eyes devour every inch of naked skin in front of him. ‘Ji, baby, why don’t you get on your knees for y/n.’ 

Jisung drops to his knees right away, his hot breath tickling against your pelvis bone as he scoots closer to you. The sight of his mouth only inches away from your pussy makes your legs feel weak and you look at Minho with pleading eyes, hoping he’ll understand you’ll need his support if his boyfriend is going to make a meal out of you. 

Minho grins, drops his own boxers to the floor and strides over to you with three big steps. He pulls you against his chest, his arm hooking around your waist underneath your breast to hold you steady. 

‘Feast away, baby,’ he tells Jisung. 

One of your legs is placed over Jisung’s shoulder and then he licks a fat stripe between your already slick lips, all the way from your hole to your clit. If it wasn't for Minho’s hold on you, you would have collapsed. 

‘Fuccckk,’ you moan, your head falling back against Minho’s shoulder. 

Jisung hums and dives in again, this time putting even more pressure with his tongue. Your hips buck on their own accord and Jisung reaches up to hold you in place against Minho. 

‘Hmm you taste delicious, baby,’ he murmurs against your folds, nipping at them with his teeth. 

‘Unnghh,’ is all you are able to let out, your brain feeling hazy with lust and pleasure. 

Minho starts placing wet open mouthed kisses against your neck as his free hand plays with your nipple, while Jisung keeps lapping at your clit with his skillful tongue. Heat curls in your stomach and when he adds a finger and curls it just right, you cry out so loud that it startles you a bit. You’ve never been this loud before. The thought immediately leaves your brain when another finger is added to your heat and your legs are starting to shake.

‘Please, Sungie,’ you moan, trying to buck your hips again. 

Jisung picks up the pace, moving his tongue and his finger in tandem. 

‘That’s it, kitten, let go for us,’ Minho whispers in your ear as his fingers twist and pull your already sensitive nipple. 

‘So close,’ you whine, the coil in your belly getting tighter and tighter. 

When it snaps your eyes roll back and you moan Jisung’s name. Your legs give out, but Minho’s hold keeps you up as Jisungs keeps moving his fingers until he’s sure you’ve ridden out your orgasm. 

‘Hmm so sexy,’ he says against the inside of your thigh, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your skin there. 

Your legs shake and Minho gently lowers himself and therefore you to the floor. He sits you down in his lap and moves your limbs around like you're a doll. 

‘Look at that,’ he hums, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

‘Hmm?’ you hum, still a bit hazy from your release. 

‘Look in the mirror,’ Jisung says, moving to sit behind Minho. 

You do as he says and gasp at the sight that greets you. You barely recognize yourself, naked, flushed skin, big eyes and wild hair. Your feet are on either side of Minho’s thighs, causing your legs to stay open and displaying your glistering pussy for all of you to see in the mirror. 

Minho moves his hands from your breasts towards your core and when his finger gently dips into your soaking folds, you shiver. 

‘Mhhgh, sensitive,’ you mutter, but you don’t slap his hand away. 

‘You can take it,’ Minho whispers, biting the skin between your shoulder and neck. 

Jisung moves to your side and lays down onto his stomach, his chin resting on your thigh as he stares at your pussy with big hungry eyes like he hadn’t just eaten you out already. His tongue is peeking out of his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was drunk or at least a little tipsy. 

‘Can I go again?’ he asks, looking up at Minho. 

‘No,’ Minho growls. ‘It’s my turn to play.’ 

Jisung huffs, but stays where he is, pressing a soft kiss on your thigh. You reach out to pat his hair and he smiles up at you. 

‘You ready, kitten?’ Minho asks, his free hand coming up to circle your throat lightly. ‘I want you to keep looking in the mirror the entire time, okay?’ 

All you can do is nod, your gaze connecting with his through the mirror. 

‘Good girl, now watch how easily you’ll take my finger.’ 

Minho slips his finger inside and your mouth falls open at the sensation. It’s only one finger, but it still feels so unbelievably good. Your head falls back against Minho’s shoulder, but you make sure to keep your eyes on the mirror, watching as he starts pumping his finger in and out of you. Wet slopping sounds fill the studio and soon your moans echo off the walls as well. 

‘More, Minho, please,’ you beg, the sensitivity from before completely gone. 

Minho’s fingers leave your throat to play with one of your nipples again, pinching the bud between his thumb and forefinger. Jisung sits up beside you and takes the other nipple in his mouth, sucking and twirling his tongue around it until you’re a shivering mess. A second finger is added to your core and your eyes fall close as the pleasure nearly overwhelms you. 

‘Eyes open,’ Minho growls in your ear, pinching your nipple so hard a yelp leaves your mouth. 

It’s a good type of pain and when your eyes lock with Minho’s once more and his thumb brushes over your swollen clit, you fall over the edge for the second time. Your legs are shaking violently and it takes everything in you to keep your eyes from rolling back inside your head. 

‘Such a good girl,’ Minho murmurs, kissing your neck as he fingers you through your orgasm. ‘So tight and responsive.’ 

‘She’s perfect,’ Jisung says, his mouth still attached to your breast. 

‘God,’ you groan, coming down from your high. ‘You guys are.. fuck.’ 

Jisung laughs and pulls back to look at you, his hand coming up to push a sweaty piece of hair behind your ear. ‘We’re just Minsung, baby.’ 

You smile at hearing their nickname and reach out to touch his chest. ‘That’s enough for me.’ 

‘Good, because we’re not done with you yet,’ Jisung smirks. ‘How’d you feel about riding my di–’ 

You don’t let him finish and push yourself up against Minho’s thighs to basically launch yourself against him. Your legs still feel like jelly, but Minho’s hands on your hips help you straddle Jisung who laughs in pleasant surprise at your attack. 

‘I guess that’s one way to answer,’ he grins. ‘You’re that desperate for me, huh?’ 

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh, lining yourself up with Minho’s help. 

‘You can just say you want to be fu–’ Jisung’s mouth falls open when you sink down, your walls clenching around him. ‘Fuck, fuck fuck,’ he groans, throwing his head back and exposing his long neck. 

You waste no time to lick a fat stripe from his collarbone all the way to just behind his ear and he shivers beneath you. Minho moves to sit beside you and grabs onto the back of Jisung’s neck, pulling his head back up. 

‘How does she feel, Jagi?’ he asks Jisung when you roll your hips forward before bouncing up and down. 

‘So good,’ Jisung whines. ‘So tight and warm.’ 

Minho groans and leans forward to catch Jisungs lips with his own, kissing him feverishly. The sight of their tongues tangling is breathtaking and you can’t help but slow your movements to enjoy the view. 

Jisung moans and grabs onto your hips, his tongue still battling Minho’s, but the instruction is clear and you slowly increase your speed again before leaning in to press open mouthed kisses against Jisung’s neck. 

When Minho pulls back and Jisung whines at the loss, you tilt your head up and press your lips against his instead. The kiss is messy and wet and your rhythm fails again as you’re too focused on both the kiss and the noises Jisung makes. 

‘Such pretty noises, right?’ Minho murmurs, burying his face into your neck and biting down on your skin again. 

You hum against Jisung’s lips and arch your back when Minho’s fingers twirl around your hard and abused nipples. They're so sensitive that it sends a shock through your body and you moan into Jisungs mouth, your hips faltering. Both their hands find their way to your hips and help you move. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room and the feeling of being sandwiched between two hot bodies makes the coil in your stomach tighten once more, heat spreading through your veins as your third orgasm approaches. 

Jisung comes first, his hips rutting up with little shocks as he moans into your mouth. Minho quickly moves his hand down to your folds to circle and pinch your clit. You’re a withering mess in seconds and when he bites down on your shoulder you actually come with a scream this time. 

Your body sags against Jisung and for a moment the three of you just sit there, hugging each other and catching your breath. 

‘Do you think you’d have one more in you?’ Minho asks when the sweat on your skin is starting to cool down enough for you to shiver in their arms. 

Never in your life have you come more than three times in a row, but the thought of saying no doesn’t even cross your mind, especially when you feel his cock twitch against your ass. 

‘Only if you take me against the mirror,’ you tease, looking over your shoulder to wink at him. 

You’re only partly joking, but Minho just grins at you and stands up. He gently pulls you off of Jisung, chuckling softly when the both of you shiver when his softening cock slides out of you, before he easily hauls you up in his arms and wraps your legs around his waist. 

‘I’ve had a dream about this,’ Minho mumbles as he approaches the mirrored wall and presses your naked back against the cold glass. 

‘I’ve thought about this too,’ you admit, blushing. ‘But it was actually you fucking Jisung against the mirror.’ 

‘I want that!’ Jisung squeals behind you.  

Minho laughs and repositions you in his arms so his cock is teasing your soaking entrance. ‘I’m sure we can make that fantasy come through as well.’ 

Your eyes widen and that’s when he sinks home, pushing all the way into you with one smooth movement. 

‘Oh, fuck,’ you moan, his cock stretching you deliciously.

‘How are you still so tight,’ Minho pants, his hands squeezing your ass. ‘Fuck.’ A droplet of sweat drips down from his hairline to his chin and you follow it with hazy eyes before focussing on his lips where his teeth are biting into his bottom lip. 

‘She feels amazing, doesn’t she?’ Jisung has gotten up from the floor and is now pressed up against Minho’s back, his chin leaning on his shoulder.

‘So good,’ Minho agrees, squeezing his eyes shut as he ruts his hip upwards. 

‘Mhmh,’ you moan, pleasure is already building in your belly again and your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back against the mirror. 

This time Minho doesn’t scold you to keep your eyes open, he just buries his face in your neck and attacks your skin with his tongue and teeth. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about him today, it’s that he likes to bite and leave marks.

The sensation of his cock pounding into you, the cold mirror at your back and the warmth of his tongue against your neck is almost too much. Your muscles tremble and when Jisung reaches around Minho to let his hands travel all over your body, you start to feel dizzy. 

‘Please,’ you murmur, clenching your walls around Minho. ‘Please, Minho.’ 

You’re not sure if you’re begging for him to come or to go faster, you just know that it’s all getting too much. Tears start to leak from your eyes as your body doesn’t know what to do with the overload of sensations. 

‘I’m close, Jagi,’ Minho murmurs against your neck, nipping at your collarbone. ‘Let go for me, yeah?’ 

You sob and dig your fingers into his shoulders as the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had takes over your body. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your limbs are spasming and your vision turns black for a second or two. 

A grunt leaves Minho’s throat as he comes inside you, his hands holding you close as he presses soft kisses all over your shoulders, neck and face while Jisung runs his fingers through your hair and whispers sweet praises in your ear. 

When your body goes lax in Minho’s arms he sinks to the floor and cuddles you close. Jisung curls his body around your back and once more the three of you just sit there and cuddle into each other's warmth for a while. 

‘Next time we’re doing this, we need to pick a more comfortable place than the floor of your studio or against the mirror,’ Jisung says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. ‘As hot as it is.’ 

‘But the mirrors,’ Minho pouts. 

You and Jisung both giggle and you reach out to tap his bottom lip with your finger. ‘So you want to do this again?’ you ask, smiling up at him.  

Minho raises his eyebrows at you and tightens his arms around your waist. ‘Don’t you?’ 

Oh fuck yes.

a/n: i'm still pretty new to writing smut so uhm I hope that was good lmao. (it was a lot of fun to write hehe) If you enjoyed reading, please consider leaving a comment and/or reblog <3

shoutout to @staybabblingbaby for helping me brainstorm, u rock <3

general taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @delulustardust

[paceprompting]

a ballad in translation

written for ‘sing’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: 90s era steddie, established relationship, singer eddie, deaf steve, domestic fluff

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Eddie didn’t get home until late.

It was his own fault. They actually finished recording early, and rest of the band headed out with their unusual gift of free time. But Eddie, since they’d paid for the time anyway, stayed behind to work out some of the kinks in a song he’d been working on in secret.

Melodies and lyrics were easy enough to do in his head and on paper, but when he pulled out his sweetheart, someone always wanted to listen. Steve, especially, liked to sit close to one of the speakers, and feel the vibrations along with the little bit of sound he could still hear. Liked to watch Eddie’s fingers dance across the strings and the frets.

The studio had been the best place to finally lay down what had only been in his head. Hear it out loud and figure out the parts that needed a better transition, or where he might fit in an echo of the main melody somewhere in the bridge.

By the time he finally finished, an hour past their original reservation, the song wasn’t done yet—but it was getting there.

Eddie flicked the lights twice as he walked into the kitchen, offering an apologetic smile when Steve turned from the sink.

Steve set his hands on his hips, frowning.

Eddie raised his hands to his chest, signing meekly, ‘Hey, Stevie.’

In response, Steve tapped his fingers on his sides.

‘I ordered Chinese. Extra spring rolls. Should be here in,’ Eddie checked his watch. ‘Ten minutes?’

Steve stepped forward, eyes narrowed as he considered Eddie’s bribery.

‘Recording go long?’

Eddie bit at his lower lip. Steve raised his brow.

‘Sort of?’ he answered. Steve cleared his throat, clearly wanting more details. Eddie flexed his fingers, and said, ‘I was working on something. Just me losing track of time.’

Something other than the kitchen lights sparkled in Steve’s eyes. For all that Steve had bemoaned Eddie’s taste in music—both listening and creating—he jumped at every opportunity to be the first to know about anything and everything Corroded Coffin put to track.

‘New song?’ he asked, a true smile forming on his lips.

Eddie rolled his eyes, knowing he was caught. ‘Yes, you dork.’

He’d somehow managed to keep it a secret from the man he lived with for about three months. Cat had to come out of the bag sometime.

‘Can I listen?’ Steve had crossed the room into Eddie’s space, his hands signing frantically.

Eddie danced away, playfully narrowing his eyes as he signed back, ‘Not finished yet.’

Steve reached out for him, curving an arm around Eddie’s waist and pulling him back against his chest. He swept Eddie’s hair out of the way and tucked his nose against Eddie’s throat, dragging up until his lips grazed the shell of his ear.

“Please, Eds?” Steve whispered.

Over the years, they fallen more and more into signing. At first, just so they could both learn ASL as quickly as possible by making it their primary form of conversation. The only times Steve did speak out loud was when Eddie walked off while in the middle of signing, forgetting that Steve had to see to understand him, and then Steve had to call out for Eddie to come back and repeat himself.

And, of course, when he really wanted to get his way.

Steve learned quickly, way back when, that Eddie’s weakness was the low timbre of Steve’s voice and his wide palms over the span of Eddie’s ribs. Even if Eddie wasn’t already up for most anything Steve could come up with, it wasn’t hard to convince him when Steve was involved.

Steve had…not taken it well when the doctors told him he was starting to lose his hearing. Between all the concussions and the still-unknown extent of the symptoms from dealing so closely with the Upside Down, the doctors had acted like Steve was getting off easy compared to the recovery from the demobat scars.

But when they’d finally started to think maybe the bullshit was over and done with—all those years from ‘83 into ‘87 had come back once again with a vengeance.

Most days were better now.

Steve still hated wearing the hearing aids. He also hated not wearing them, especially when everybody was over and he struggled to be part of the conversation, as much as Eddie could keep up with his signing. But not everyone had the everyday practice, as much as they all tried with ASL.

Although, they both enjoyed this particular activity that had come from Steve losing his hearing.

It wasn’t all gone. If Steve sat close enough to speakers with his hands and head pressed against them, he could heart the drums and the bass, and sometimes the vibrations of the vocals.

Steve could hear Eddie sing, if he laid his head against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie turned his head toward Steve, nodding.

They moved together into the living room, Steve only releasing his hold so that Eddie could sit first on the couch. He joined beside him, ducking under Eddie’s arm as he laid it across the back of the cushions and settled with one hand on Eddie’s thigh and his head laid near his collarbone.

He traced an ‘ok’ into Eddie’s leg when he was ready.

Eddie took a slow breath and began to sing.

It was more of a ballad than anything else he’d ever written. Not too slow, but focused on the guitar going along with the vocal melody, rather than a chaos of drums and quick series of chords.

He didn’t have all the words yet. Some completed lines about getting through by following these deep brown eyes through hell and back. What he didn’t have figured out, he hummed the melody for.

The entire song was in his deepest register and a low key.

So, even without his hearing aids, Steve would be able to hear or feel every word, every note.

After all, it was for him.

[frostimochi]

resolutions

(logan howlett x reader)

summary: You and Logan attend a New Years party hosted by Wade. With the countdown to midnight, you both get caught up in the moment and share an intimate moment with each other.

word count: 2.4k

author's note: i unironically had a dream about this the other night, so of course i had to share with the class, days earlier than planned. this takes place a year after deadpool & wolverine. enjoy! :>

find it on ao3 here

. . .

New Years was awfully unpredictable for you. Every year seemed to bring a different mix of highs and lows, leaving you wondering whether the holiday was even worth celebrating. This year, you didn’t even plan to—until Wade showed up with an invitation to his apartment against your will, promising the "social event of the decade." Against your better judgment, you agreed, dragging Logan along as your buffer for whatever insanity awaited. After all, how bad could it be?

It turned out, predictably, to be very bad.

The party was chaotic, as expected when Wade was involved. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, balloons were scattered across the floor, and someone had already popped open a bottle of champagne—two hours early. The stereo blasted a mix of '80s rock and whatever Wade had decided was "party music," which helped to create an unforgettable experience. And not in a good way.

Surrounding the room, couples were unable to keep their hands to themselves, unflatteringly in your direction. One group of friends were drunkenly laughing as they took selfies under a sagging strand of broken lights, while others swayed together to the mismatched beat of Wade’s horrendous playlist. You watched everything unfold, while Dogpool sat on your lap, constantly begging you for more cuddles.

Logan sat on the couch beside you, opening a bottle of beer, his expression a mix of irritation and mild amusement. He never wanted to come, but you’d convinced him. And of course, how could he say no? The promise of decent company and free booze was enough to get him to tag along. And though he wouldn't say it out loud, he also secretly loved spending time with you.

As Wade danced dramatically in the corner among the rest, Logan shot you a look that said, "This is your fault."

You laughed at his expression, your hands still on Dogpool as you nudged his arm. 

"Come on, admit it. You’re having a little fun."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Watching Wade do... whatever the hell that is? Sure, a riot."

"It’s interpretive dance," Wade called out, spinning in a circle before collapsing dramatically onto the floor. "I’m expressing the tragedy of running out of nachos."

Logan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a barely there smile. You caught it and grinned.

“Come here, Mary Puppins! Daddy has a surprise for you!” Wade shouted, diving toward you and grabbing Dogpool out of your lap before you could protest.

You blinked, hands still frozen in mid-air. "What the hell, Wade? She’s comfortable!"

Wade cradled Dogpool dramatically, making kissy faces at her. "Oh, but I have something better," he said in a sing-song voice. "A little treat she’ll never forget."

Logan raised an eyebrow from where he sat, grasping onto his beer bottle while watching the scene unfold. "Oh boy.”

You sighed, already knowing this wouldn’t end well. "I swear, if you try to feed her something weird—"

"Don’t worry," Wade interrupted with a grin. “I made her something special, to dedicate my first year with Puppins here, of course.”

"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "You’re feeding her leftover pizza crusts and ranch dressing?"

Wade’s face lit up. "Are you shitting me? I’ve got something way better than that!" With that, he dug into the pocket of his absurdly tight pants and pulled out a tiny, half-melted sandwich. You swore that you could see a tiny bit of mold in it.

 "Behold, a hot dog sandwich! You know, for dogs, because they deserve the best."

Logan stared at the sad creation in disbelief. "That’s just a hot dog in a bun. For you."

"Fuck no!" Wade grinned, holding the sandwich up like it was the Holy Grail. "This is an exclusive Dogpool meal—made with delicate care!"

Logan let out a low chuckle as Dogpool tried to squirm free from Wade’s arms, clearly more interested in anything but what her own owner had in store for her. 

You grinned at Logan. "It’s a shame. This could have been a bonding moment for the two of them.”

Wade, completely unfazed by Dogpool's lack of enthusiasm, tried to coax her into taking a bite, which ended up with him chasing her around the apartment.

 "Come on, sweetie! You can’t say no to this!”

"Guess Dogpool's smarter than all of us," Logan muttered, taking a swig of his beer as Wade continued his one-dog food fight.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched Wade flailing around the place, bumping into others without a care in the world. Logan’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, something that only appeared when he knew you were genuinely amused.

"Well, looks like I haven’t completely ruined your night," Logan remarked dryly, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip of his beer. His eyes stayed on you, still holding the faint smile on his face.

You nudged him gently with your elbow. "You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would."

His gaze flickered away for a moment before he gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching again. "Maybe a little," he muttered, clearly not wanting to give you the satisfaction of admitting it outright.

. . . 

As the night rolled on, a few more guests trickled in, and the energy of the room continued ebbing and flowing. Wade was missing for a bit, which kept things steady for a while. Logan stayed close to you, content to observe rather than participate. You didn’t mind; his dry commentary on the festivities kept you entertained.

You checked your watch for a moment. It was 11:48 pm. Leaning back in your seat, your eyes drifted back to Logan, wanting to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

"So, what’s your resolution?" you asked him as the clock neared midnight.

Logan’s gaze flicked to you. "Don’t do resolutions."

"Why not?"

"What’s the point? People make ‘em and break ‘em in the same week."

"Not everyone," you said. "Some people actually stick to them."

"You?" he asked, tilting his head. "What’s yours?"

You went into thought for a moment. You? A new year's resolution? Every time you’ve attempted to stick with one, it always ended up blowing up in your face. If there was anything you wanted more than anything to succeed in, it would probably be to get with Logan. Of course, the concept of it was foreign, but you fell for him the minute you met him. You knew that under the circumstances of what the two of you have been through, there was no chance you could tell him how you felt, or know if he reciprocated the same way.

But maybe it was time to put that all behind. A new year was approaching after all.

There was a long pause before you responded.

 "To... take more risks, I guess."

Logan’s lips quirked. "Risks, huh? Like coming to a party with this crowd?"

"Sure," you said with a laugh. "Your turn."

He shook his head jokingly. “Same as you.”

Before you could press him further, Wade appeared, clapping his hands loudly. "Alright, people! Ten minutes to midnight! Time to get your New Year’s smooch plans in order. No shame in making deals, folks."

Everyone around the room had somebody close to them for the big countdown. It made you glance back at Logan. "You got a lucky someone?"

He gave you a look that made your stomach flip, but he said nothing. Instead, he took another sip of his beer, shaking his head.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you stood up, glancing around one last time. It seemed like nothing was going to change tonight. You made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a drink to settle the quiet disappointment that had settled in your chest.

. . .

As the countdown began, the room filled with excitement. People paired off, others grabbed sparklers from a box Wade had inexplicably found, and you felt a small pang of awkwardness as you realized you didn’t have a plan for the midnight kiss. You hadn’t thought much of it; you’d figured it wasn’t a big deal.

"Ten!" Wade’s voice boomed over the music, causing the entire room to erupt into excitement. 

People cheered and clinked glasses as the countdown began in full force. You could hear the muffled echo of it coming from every direction, but your focus remained on the drink in your hand, the sudden unease gnawing at you.

"Nine!" Wade continued, getting even louder. You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes darting to the couples already pairing up, lips ready for the tradition. It was just a kiss, right? A simple tradition, nothing more. But why did it pang your heart this much?

"Eight!" 

The countdown sped on, the crowd growing louder, more energized. Your heart rate picked up in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Seven!"

 You turned your head, glancing over your shoulder to the bar, then to the group by the windows, still holding your drink. But your mind was far from the surroundings. You hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t thought much about it until now. The idea of a midnight kiss had always felt trivial before, but tonight it seemed to matter for some reason you couldn’t grasp.

"Six!" 

You looked around for something to distract you, anything to break the tension building in your chest. But as your gaze shifted around the room, you realized that Logan had somehow made his way closer to you, inching his way through the crowd, his quiet presence unnoticed by you as you remained lost in your own swirling thoughts.

"Five!" 

The countdown ticked on, but your awareness narrowed to just the space between you and Logan. You felt a presence beside you, and for a moment, you didn’t even realize it was him until you looked up—his steady, unreadable eyes meeting yours. The air felt different, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol or something else entirely.

"Four!" 

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. You felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach, but there was a softness in his eyes that made everything else fade. The crowd continued to cheer, to count down, but all you could hear was the steady beat of your own heart, drowning out the noise.

"Three!" 

Logan's hand brushed against yours. Deliberate, yet gentle, and the contact sent a small spark racing up your arm. You couldn’t help but look at him, a question in your eyes. Was this... real? 

"Two!" 

Logan’s face was in front of you, his hand reaching up to your face, his touch warm and steady against your skin. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, your heart racing at a pace you hadn’t expected. His thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone, a tender gesture that only made everything feel more overwhelming.

The countdown faded into the background as his face inched closer. Your thoughts scrambled, but there was only one certainty you understood. The way Logan was looking at you, the way everything seemed to quiet around you. 

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t need to. For the first time that night, you felt grounded.

“One!”

The room erupted in cheers, but all you felt was Logan’s lips on yours. Warm, firm, and completely unexpected. The kiss was brief, but it lingered, a moment suspended in time.

 When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, an expression of quiet uncertainty mingled with something more. His lips were slightly parted, as if he was trying to process the same rush of emotions you were. Neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, the world around you seeming to slow down even further. His gaze softened, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But he didn’t say anything—not yet.

The noise of the room swirled back into focus, but it felt distant, like a muffled backdrop to what you both were experiencing in that exact moment. Logan’s hand was still resting against your cheek. Warm, like it had always belonged there.

"Didn’t think I’d be here, doing this," Logan muttered under his breath, his eyes still locked onto yours. There was something vulnerable in his voice, and it made your heart beat faster.

Before you could respond, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss the weight of the moment. "Wade’s probably gonna never let us live this down," he added, the ghost of a grin curling his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "You don’t have to worry about him. I’ll take the blame," you said, the tension between you easing slightly.

Logan looked at you, his gaze more serious now, though there was still a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. "I’m not so sure I mind…”

There was a pause of silence, but neither of you moved.

“Guess this is what happens when I let you talk me into things,” he said, his voice teasing but warm.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I’m not complaining.”

He gave you a half-shrug, a small, hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his lips. " I’ve been thinking about this. Longer than I should’ve."

A mixture of surprise and warmth flooded through you. You could feel your cheeks flush, but the sudden honesty in his words was enough to settle the fluttering nerves in your chest.

"I’ve been thinking about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the truth coming out more easily than you'd expected. "Longer than I realized.”

His thumb gently traced the edge of your jaw, a gesture both comforting and intimate, as he let out a smirk.

"Guess we’ve been a little slow on the uptake, huh?"

“Let’s leave that for last year.”

You smiled, a soft, genuine thing, and his gaze softened in return. Neither of you needed to say more. You were here now, standing close, hearts open in a way they hadn’t been before. And maybe that was enough.

As the noise from the crowd picked up again, people shouting and celebrating the turn of the new year, Logan leaned in a little closer, his voice just for you.

 “Happy New Year,” he murmured.

"Happy New Year," you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The rest of the world seemed to fade away again, the cheers and music just background noise.

 And you were right where you needed to be.

[leighsartworks216]

Ominiscience

Sylus x gn!Reader

I just love when Sylus gets to protect MC from others

Warnings: unwanted advances, alcohol mention, protective Sylus, Mephisto keeping an eye on you, pet names, swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,009

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Wish you could’ve come with me. It’s boring here without you :(

You sigh as you send the text, leg bouncing as you thank the bartender for your drink. There’s no alcoholic sting when you take a sip, but you don’t expect there to be. You do have to drive back home, after all. Or maybe you’d risk the drive to the N109 Zone, just to see Sylus.

Tara invited you out to a bar to celebrate a mission success. And despite helping you in that success, you didn’t want to risk the leader of Onychinus being in Linkon around other Hunters. But you also didn’t want to disappoint Tara, especially when you’d been spending so much time in the N109 Zone when you aren’t working. You didn’t want her to think you didn’t enjoy her company or value her friendship.

Except, she got swept up by a cute guy five minutes after sitting down. They smiled together and laughed as they danced to the music, holding hands and swaying close like they’d known each other for years. And you were left at the bar to nurse virgin mocktails and cling to every message he sends you.

Awe, poor kitten. Shall I send Mephisto to keep you company?

You can’t help grinning.

For company, or for target practice?

“Hey, gorgeous.” You startle and turn toward the voice. A man gestures to the stool beside you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. He looked completely normal, even a little handsome, but something about the way his eyes looked at you had your senses on high alert. “This seat taken?”

You glance down the row of seats. There are quite a few open, further away and a safe distance from you. “No, but neither are any of those.”

He laughs at your comment and sits down, leaning his elbow on the counter and barely glancing at the bartender when he orders. You shift your drink closer.

“I like a seat with a view.”

Your phone buzzes again. You start to pick it up so you can answer the new message, hoping your clear lack of interest will get this stranger to leave you alone, but another hand grabs it and slams it back onto the bar, trapping your hand with it. His grip is relentless, squeezing your fingers together uncomfortably as he leans closer. You smell the alcohol from his drink on his breath.

“It’s rude to ignore someone, sweetheart,” he chastises. “What’s the matter, you got a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “I don’t believe you.”

Your phone begins ringing, vibrating against your crushed hand while it plays a silly tune, one you’d picked out just to annoy Sylus. The man snickers. “What kind of ringtone is that? Is your friend calling? She must be cute, too, huh?”

“You can answer it if you want,” you say, taking on an air of confidence. “Maybe she’ll think you sound pretty cute, too.”

He grins, eyes studying your hand beneath his as he considers the offer. Your heart is leaden in your chest. If he doesn’t answer and Sylus doesn’t threaten him into the next lifetime, you don’t know what else to do. The bartender’s back is to you as he talks with another customer, and Tara is probably too engrossed in her new admirer to notice your struggle.

“Alright,” he finally agrees. You try not to breathe a sigh of relief just yet as he releases you and you hand over the device. The idiot doesn’t even bother checking the call photo background, a stolen snapshot of Sylus with snow in his hair and fireworks lighting up his face. He just accepts and brings it right up to his ear, smiling at you confidently. “Hey, cutie.”

You bite your lip to fight a growing laugh from bubbling up as you watch in real time as his face changes through several different emotions.

At first, he’s just confused when a man’s voice answers the call. Then pissed. He’s glaring at you when he starts to hang up, but stops and listens again. The anger flickers into worry for a second. A split second. Enough time for his mind to try to rationalize that the words, the threats, coming in from the receiver aren’t real and can’t possibly happen to him. And then it settles. Color drains from his face. His eyes are wide, glancing from you to the people around him helplessly, clutching the phone with both hands. You can’t hear Sylus’s voice, but you wonder if he’s using Mephisto to relay the man’s movements.

It’s only been a couple minutes when the man slowly pulls the phone from his ear and holds it out to you, cradling it in both hands like a highly reactive bomb. He stammers until he finally whimpers out, “It’s- It’s for you. S-Sorry.”

You take the phone and he trips over himself trying to get away, frantically searching the crowd for the mysterious stranger that threatened his life seconds ago.

You hold it up to your ear. “Thank you for that.” You take a relaxed sip of your drink.

Sylus chuckles. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Mhm.” You glance over your shoulder. “Where’s Mephisto hiding?”

“Outside. Up a little, look to your right… There you are, sweetie,” he purrs. Mephisto’s red eyes shine like rubies through the glass of a high-set window. You can’t see his body, only the movement of his eyes as he jerks his head around. “As I was saying, have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Name anything you want. The chef will have it ready by the time you get here.”

You turn away and smile, trying to hide just how dopey it looks from him. “Do you have any work to do tonight?”

From the smile in his own voice, you’re sure he saw it anyway. “Just say the word and my schedule is cleared.”

“Which word?”

There’s an anticipatory pause. You can imagine the feel of his breath on your ear as he whispers into the microphone. “Please.”

[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act I

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old, forgotten ruins if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance (kinda), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: a bit of angst

Word Count: 12,4k

Rating: 18+ (this part is actually kinda chill)

Notes: Just as a warning (?) reader has white hair and white silvery eyes in this story but those are the only physical descriptions I will make, they're kind of part of her magic. Also when I started writing this I totally intended on it being a one-shot but the story got away from me and I decided to split it up into 3 parts. I really hope you enjoy!

Act II

You've been pacing in front of the temple's door ever since the sun set over the mountain, the warm rays slowly being replaced with the brilliant pale moonlight. You keep wringing your hands together and smoothing down any possible wrinkle on your dress, repositioning the diadem perched on your head to make sure it sits perfectly. It's not often you get visitors up in the temple, let alone any your Goddess went out of Her way to warn you about and gave clear instructions to help in any way you could. You can't quite distinguish if the anxiety building inside you is the result of excitement or wariness - possibly a healthy dose of both.

The last time someone climbed these steps had been almost a full decade ago. It was a quite short affair as well since the visitor only needed a book long forgotten in the temple's library. You'd read it multiple times before, and offered it without hesitation, prompting the traveler to thank you and immediately start descending the mountain, going on his way all the while muttering about finally having all the knowledge he needed to achieve his goal. That small interaction served as a reminder of your purpose in this temple, filled you with a sense of accomplishment you usually felt in such situations, but you've been alone in between these walls since then.

After almost four centuries you're more than used to the quiet, to the way your steps echoe in the grand empty space. The loneliness had been a more prominent companion, but even that had come and gone throughout the years. You had no place in the world, nor family or friends waiting for you anymore. All you had left was your duty to the temple. But you're still only fae and the longing for some company catches up to you every once in a while. At times you think you only want the reminder that you're still alive.

There wasn't much to do around the temple either, it magically gave you food and kept itself clean so you didn't even need to bother with that. You could recite every book in the library at this point and you found you weren't the best artist as you tried your hand at painting and sculpting, even music and dancing. The flowers around the temple seemed to grow effortlessly, not even needing you to tend to them either. Even keeping a journal proved inefficient as there was little to write down, the monotony of your life not interesting enough for such a thing. When tasked with guarding the temple, you would never have imagined boredom would end up being your biggest problem.

You still recall the day your hair started turning white and your eyes dulling, losing their color slowly until they turned into the silver, almost white color they were now, mirroring the moonlight. At first your parents thought it could be some disease or even a curse, they were scared for your health and safety beyond measure, but when the Goddess contacted you and sent you the amulet you now wear religiously around your neck, it guided you and your parents to this very temple hidden in the mountains of the Night Court. She then told you Herself what the fates had written for you, presenting you with an oath and sharing her power with you, making you the Keeper of the Moon Temple.

Everything had seemed impossible to believe at first, the time of the Gods had passed millenia ago, it was hard to find someone who could even name any of them anymore, you certainly couldn't at the time. So when you were told what your role in life was going to be you had been completely blindsided, not even knowing what to make of your new occupation, of being trusted with such an important task when you weren't even three decades old.

Truthfully, you expected at least a few people to show up every once in a while, asking for help or guidance. You even prepared yourself for there to be some threats to the temple, but things had been mostly peaceful and quiet, so quiet. You understand why guarding the temple is important, this type of knowledge and power can't ever fall into the wrong hands, the safety of the world depends on it, but sometimes you wonder what your life could have been like if you hadn't been chosen by fate to hold such a heavy burden by yourself.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you feel a presence approaching, used to feeling them pass by unannounced as the temple remains hidden in its protective spell. When it's clear this is the visitor the Goddess had warned you about, as they entered the wards seamlessly, you take a deep calming breath, adjusting the diadem one last time, and open the heavy doors, revealing the temple to the moonlight. As the stairs come into view, you step up to the threshold and clasp your hands together behind your back, waiting to be of help as your Goddess instructed you to.

Distractedly rehearsing your greeting, unused as it was, you almost miss the dark shadows swirling up the milky steps, passing by you and escaping to all corners of the temple before you have time to react. Your head snaps back to follow them, breaking the calming character you were falling into in preparation to fulfill your duty. Some of your power drips down to your fingertips, casting a white glow under your skin, as you study these shadows intently. Not finding any ill intent in them, as strange as they were, some of the tension leaves your body. They simply lay before you, more and more of these wispy shadows gathering together as they swirled around themselves, not paling even a fraction under the bright moonlight or your powers. Strange little things indeed.

You wonder for a moment if this was the visitor the Goddess had mentioned, not knowing what to make of it or how to approach such a situation. She had not specified if the visitor was fae, though you're not so sure how you would be able to help shadows. Before you could embarrass yourself in trying to speak to these creatures, the same presence you felt earlier makes itself known, much closer than before. Looking up at the starry sky, you find strong, dark wings carrying someone directly to the temple, a glimpse of blue shining over their dark form.

This was already the most interesting visitor you've ever had. You'd never had the pleasure of meeting any winged fae before, and, given their reaction to the fae approaching, you were confident the shadows were under their command. Those were definitely even rarer than winged fae - Shadowsingers, you remember them being called.

As they fly down closer to you and the temple, slowly letting the wind guide them, you feel a strange tug on your chest, and then another, this time strong enough that it makes you look down at yourself with furrowed eyebrows. Your confusion only deepens when you notice a bright string connected to your heart, raising your hand to try and touch it. Your fingers pass right through it, as if it wasn't there in the first place, and soon after you try catching it, the string disappears from sight.

You lay a hand down over your chest, feeling your heart beating under your palm. The string was invisible now, but you could still feel it tugging incessantly, as if urging you to look up. You follow its silent command, almost gasping out loud when you find the winged fae a lot closer than you had expected, catching him as he lands with a harsh tud on top of the steps, arms bracing out to maintain his balance as if he isn't quite used to landing yet. The shadows swirling at your feet rush to him, and a bewildered expression takes over his face, likely mirroring your own, as he stares at you, mouth agape.

Wide leathery wings stand behind him, open in a somewhat awkward angle as he stands frozen in place. As the moonlight filters through them you realize they're not quite black as they appeared before, the insides actually have a beautiful crimson hue to them. Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they keep cataloging his entire form, taking note of every detail as if it was crucial information. He was covered from head to toe in black leathers, you recognize it as an armor of sorts. It clung to his every muscle, showcasing them as much as it protected him from harm. You find the same blue light from before twinkling in the midst of all the black, studying it closer to find it came from gems scattered across his armor, you're almost certain they hold some of his magic somehow.

Moving up his neck, you find tan skin shining under the moonlight and black hair curling into his forehead softly, locks messy and a little damp from the flight. The stranger also had striking hazel eyes, and you find yourself struggling to not get lost in them, only bringing yourself to break eye contact when you notice the glittery string once more in the corner of your eye, only this time it's connected to his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat as you follow its path slowly, careful not to lose the thin thread once more, finding it leading back to your own heart. You feel another tug, prompting you to look back up at the male in front of you. A hand falls over your heart at the implication, right where you could feel the phantom string had tied itself. Yet another tug confirming your suspicions.

How could this be?

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Azriel wasn't expecting his evening to turn out like this when he was called to Rhys' office. While he knew there was going to be a mission of sorts, he never imagined it would involve a temple no one has ever heard of or a Goddess long forgotten. Even with Amren's knowledge and the old books she found corroborating her words, Azriel was still anticipating coming back to Velaris empty handed. He's flown over these same mountains at least a million times in the five centuries he's been alive, and never once has he noticed a temple or any signs of magic.

The woods under him looked completely untouched as far as he could tell, no one choosing to live so far from the neighboring towns, isolated between the trees and steep mountains. His shadows filtered through the woods in case he missed something from his high position, even if he thought this search was in vain, it didn't mean he wasn't going to give it his best to fulfill his High Lord's order. He felt almost naked without his shadows latching onto his body though, the single companion still perched on his shoulder in order to relay him information not giving him nearly enough coverage to feel at ease when he was so far from home.

Mission and discomfort aside, the wind felt heavenly hitting his skin on this warm summer evening. It had been a while since he was able to fly for this long without dreading his destination as it usually meant he was visiting the Illyrian mountains, the Hewn City or a much more gruesome mission than the one he found himself in at the moment. It also feels good to step away from the full houses he found himself in nowadays. As much as he loved his family, Azriel had always valued his alone time and it was getting harder to find himself completely alone in the midst of missions and the ever growing inner circle.

As he was flying over the edge of the mountain, Azriel was getting ready to make the trip back and throw a very satisfying “I told you so” at his brother's face when his shadows suddenly disappeared right before his eyes. The abruptness of it made him panic for a few seconds, clapping his wings so he was hovering in the same place and was able to study the space ahead of him, trying to feel for any type of ward or shield but coming up empty. He could still feel his shadows, and knew they were alright given how calm the remaining one was as it sat on his shoulder and simply urged him forward, as if confused why he had stopped in the first place.

Azriel trusted his shadows blindly, they had never steered him wrong after all, and so he did as he was told and slowly started moving forward once again. After living for five hundred years surrounded by magic, there isn't much that can surprise the shadowsinger, but he can safely say he's never seen anything like this. He felt his body pass through some sort of gateway, one that went unnoticed by him until now, and as he did his surroundings began changing as if they had only been a mirage before.

In between the trees a path carved in white stone could now be seen, glinting under the moonlight in complete contrast to the rest of the dark woods. As his eyes followed this path, going up stairs of the same stone carved into the side of the mountain, he found a white temple sitting right at the top. It wasn't a huge building by any means, but the white eerie glow it emitted made it impossible to miss had it not been the spell covering it - one that would make the one who kept Velaris safe for centuries pale in comparison - and keeping it hidden from the world and unwanted eyes.

Amren had been right after all, something that happens more often than he would ever care to admit. The Goddess of the Moon still had at least a temple left in this world, leaving it behind when She took to the sky. Not much is known about the old Gods, but Azriel, born and raised in the Night Court, felt himself relax as he looked up at the moon shining above him, not believing this Goddess could be anything but benevolent. She had watched him fly over from Velaris after all, it almost felt like he was guided here.

The entire temple was made of white stone - it appeared to be the same type of stones used for the path and stairs leading up to it, only more polished. There were silver highlights carved into the walls and columns, these glowed with an intensity Azriel had never seen. Most of the roof was a huge skylight, likely so the moon could illuminate Her temple and Her followers could bask in Her brilliant light.

Given the color scheme of the entire building, his shadows were easy enough to spot, which would have been a big problem had he decided on a more covert operation when coming to the temple, he was more than glad he came here in peace. His little companions seemed perfectly content as they swirled around and over themselves right in front of the temple's doors, a few steps from a figure completely clad in white.

Even after finding the temple where he had only seen trees and shrubs before, he couldn't help but feel even more surprised that there was someone inside it. A sudden spark of magic has the shadowsinger moving faster, a gasp catching in his throat when he sees bright, pale light coming from the figure's palms. Even this wasn't enough to send the shadows that would be at the receiving hand of it into alarm, something curious on its own as they were usually as suspicious and careful as their master.

Azriel was already within earshot when the person in front of him decided his shadows posed no threat and the white light disappeared from her hands. At first glance she might have looked like a regular high fae female, but there was a different kind of power flowing through her, as shown by the strange way this light magic manifested itself, something Azriel had never felt before.

Upon flying down closer, his feet almost touching the top of the steps in front of the temple, he realizes she had not been wearing a white hood or veil as he initially thought but her hair was completely white. There was an unnatural element to it as each strand shone under the moonlight, almost rivaling it in its intensity. The floor length dress she wore was of the same color, made of a light, breathable fabric, almost translucent in certain areas, swishing softly in the faint breeze. She had not looked up at him yet, seemingly intrigued as she watched her own chest. Perhaps looking at the pendant she wore around her neck, the magic coming from it could almost be seen in its intensity.

Azriel took this moment to take her in, not knowing what to say since he was the one possibly trespassing. She was absolutely gorgeous, truly mesmerizing in her beauty and demeanor. It was almost impossible to believe she was real, standing right in front of him and not a Goddess walking his dreams. For a moment Azriel wonders if this is truly the Goddess, if She never left the land of the mortals as it was once believed, instead keeping herself safely hidden in these uninhabited mountains, but when she looks up from her necklace, eyes falling on him for the first time, all thoughts evaporate from his mind. White, silvery eyes meet hazel and a sudden rush of inexplicable feelings hit him right in the chest, squeezing his heart tight and taking his breath away. It felt as if the world had broken apart and put itself together, as if everything finally made sense. The only thing he could make sense of was one word, swirling around in his mind and completely taking over every cell on his body. Mate. You were his mate.

In his stupor, Azriel forgets he was still up in the air, wings freezing along with the rest of his body and sending him falling towards the ground. Thankfully, he hadn't been too high up, and was still able to land on his feet, knees only buckling under his weight slightly as he steadied himself. This had to be the most ungraceful landing he's performed since his brothers were training him between giggles and harmless teasing when he first joined the Illyrian camps. If he wasn't so surprised and his brain was able to formulate a single thought, he would be cringing at the fact that you had just witnessed it, his mate had witnessed it.

It takes several moments before he starts catching on to the situation, the ringing in his ears subsiding and the rest of the world re-emerging around you. He hadn't even noticed his shadows had returned to him, ecstatic for their master finally found his equal. Azriel tries to school his features in an attempt to keep at least some dignity, in fear of coming on too strong as well, especially since it seemed you were in the same predicament as him, a curious but stunned expression locked in your beautiful face as you studied him. His stupid Illyrian senses make him flare out his wings a little before he has the chance to fully take control of his body. When your gaze finds his once more, his heart stalls in his chest before speeding up at an alarming rate. You haven't even spoken a single word to him, but his heart already sang for yours.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The oath you made before your Goddess rushes into your head as you study the handsome male in front of you. How could this be possible? The fates had decided your life lied within the temple long before you were born, so why give you a mate? A bond like this is extremely rare, you'd never seen one in your entire lifetime, albeit you lived isolated from the world for most of it. Still, this was something only a few were blessed with, a bond stronger than what mortal minds could even comprehend, so why waste it on you? Could the fates and the Mother be this cruel?

You can't even bring yourself to hope he didn't notice the brilliant bond forming between you - an angry twist pulling at your heartstrings when you dare to think of hiding it - considering the expression on his face and his silence, it seems he's already more than aware of it. All it took was a single glance and it had fallen into place for both of you.

In the midst of the rushing thoughts invading your brain, you try to remember what you've read about mating bonds. There was a book talking about them in the library, of this much you were sure, but its contents were evading your racing mind.

Gaze falling to the floor, trying to sober up from what you imagine to be one of the most intense occurrences anyone could go through, you almost miss the step he takes towards you. The surprise of it makes you flinch slightly, but it was enough for him to notice and take the same step back, wings coiling up tightly to his back and shadows moving to cover him almost completely, excitement wiped off his face and replaced with a hurt expression.

Your gaze falls on him once more, a self loathing feeling crawling up your throat and making you want to beg for his forgiveness on your knees at the thought that you put that expression on his face. This bond would take some getting used to, in what world would you kneel before a male you've just met. Still, you didn't want him to think he scared or even disgusted you in any way, mate or no mate, that was extremely rude.

You clear your throat softly, remembering the weight of your role in this temple and trying desperately to fall back into character, hoping the familiarity of your duties will bring your mind some peace and help you get through this moment.

“Forgive me, it isn't often that we get visitors,” his entire body tenses up even further at your words, but it relaxes as you keep speaking, “I welcome you to the last Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple. I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats, but also do my best to help anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just as you have been.”

You try not to look too long in his general direction in fear of getting lost in his eyes once more, but that's close to impossible when you're talking to him and he might be the most beautiful male you've ever encountered. Taking a step to the side, you hold out a hand towards the door, inviting him into the temple, something you should have already done.

He nods his head once after watching your outstretched arm for a moment longer, and then makes his way inside slowly. As he passes by, you can't help but breathe in his scent, it feels intoxicating and it takes every bit of strength in your body to not let your mind linger on how well it would smell mixed with yours, until you couldn't point out where one ended and the other began.

A gasp pulls you out of your betraying thoughts, a smile finding its way to your lips, knowing the sight was making him speechless. It always sparks a little pride in you when someone gazes upon the temple for the first time. Even after living here for centuries, this temple's beauty still takes your breath away. The entire floor was made of replandescent white stones, silver gems weave highlights into them, creating patterns across the entire room, maps of constellations and lunar phases, and giving it a particular glow of their own. They were illuminated by the giant skylight making up most of the ceiling, as to allow both the moon and sunlight to enter. You've tried identifying the materials used in this construction before but ended up coming up empty. It seems the precious stones and gems used no longer grew in this world, perhaps they never did.

At the far corner of the room there was an altar, one without statue or offering table, but an altar all the same. Even when She walked this world, your Goddess never accepted gifts or ever allowed anyone to replicate her image because even that could end up leaving traces of her power behind. The altar looks empty right now, and you catch yourself wishing he could be here to see it on a full moon, when the moon rays fall right over it and you can communicate with and receive any orders the Goddess might have for you. The entire room holds an even more intense glow during that night of the month as well, you're sure he would find it fascinating.

Making your way around him, careful not to step too close or accidentally touch his wings, you catch sight of his awe stricken face, tan skin glowing beautifully under the moonlight. A small, fond smile appears on his face when his gaze falls back on yours, and you almost curse the Mother for the challenge she just put in front of you. His beauty was truly otherworldly, it rivaled every shiny gem and stone in this room, maybe even the moon herself. How were you supposed to act normally knowing this was your mate?

“I've never seen anything like this before,” he admits softly, eyes never straying from yours. The sound of his voice makes you pause, it feels strangely familiar, like something you've been waiting to hear your entire life. There's a curious kind of magic around mating bonds, you don't know how it's possible for someone you've just met to already have so much power over you, even when you're trying your best to ignore him.

“I still find myself at a loss for words when gazing at this room as well,” you agree, wanting to cringe at the bashful expression you know has fallen over your face. Your plan of keeping a detached demeanor while fulfilling your duties was doomed from the start. You clasp your hands behind your back before continuing in what you hope is a professional voice. “The Goddess warned me of your arrival and left orders for me to help you in any way I can. If you tell me what you seek, I will give you what you came here for as long as it's within my abilities.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly at your words. “How did you know I was coming?”

“The Goddess knows more than us mortals will ever be able to grasp,” you explain as vaguely as possible while hopefully not raising any suspicions. There's not a single cell in your body that thinks he's untrustworthy, but they're incredibly biased, and the inner workings of your role as the Moon's keeper must be protected.

He seems satisfied enough with your answer, but there's a different kind of air about him now. As if remembering he doesn't know you, and has found himself at your mercy.

“You haven't told me what you came for,” you remind him. If you sit in silence for long your thoughts will start drifting again.

“Right,” he clears his throat, a pinkish tint covering the tips of his rounded ears. “I come on behalf of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.” Your eyebrows raise at this, not expecting him to be such an important person. “One of the High Lady's sisters has been turned into a seer recently, and given that she wasn't even born fae, these powers have proven extremely hard to control.”

You've heard the story of the human who saved the fae from the evil clutches of Amarantha, and her sisters who were tragically thrown in the cauldron by King Hybern and turned into fae against their will. Your Goddess had even told you one of the sisters vengefully stole her powers from the cauldron, and the other was gifted seer abilities. Given the circumstances in which this all went down, it's understandable that she has been having trouble controlling her powers. Being a seer is an exceptionally heavy burden, and she's still so young too.

“We have some books that might be able to help, both in controlling one's power and pulling an entranced fae out of any visions or dreams they've found themselves stuck in. Was that what you were hoping for?”

“Yes,” he admits, apparently relieved at having found what he was looking for, “We found texts mentioning the followers of the Moon Goddess often had prophetic dreams, and wrote entire manuals on how to navigate them. Since Elain wasn't born with these powers these books seemed perfect to help her, and so the High Lady sent me searching for them.” You nod, motioning for him to follow you as you turn and start walking to the library, already making a mental list of all the books that might help his friend.

Even lost in thought, you sense him stopping in his steps as you're walking down the corridor, overwhelmingly aware of his every move as you were. This prompts you to turn around and face him in question, only to find him watching you in amazement.

“You're breathtaking,” he blurts out before he can catch himself, making heat rush up your neck and settle over your entire face. He looks away embarrassed for a moment, one of his shadows crawling up his neck and over his ear, before looking back at you with a bashful look. “I'm sorry. I just- Is it normal for you to glow like this?”

This power has been a part of you for so long, you almost forget about the way your hair lights up in the dark, an aura surrounding you as well, giving you an overall ethereal glow. “Yes, I harness power from the moon and She glows so…” you trail off, biting your lip as he keeps studying you. “The library is right up ahead,” you add, turning your back to him once more so you can gather your thoughts for the nth time since he stepped foot into this temple.

As you navigate through the familiar rows of shelves your heart finally calms, easily picking up the pertinent books. You can't help but keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, not out of suspicion, but curiosity for his every reaction. He seems content with following after you as he watches the decorations and studies the books sitting on the shelves, not once asking you what you're giving him, simply carrying the books you hand him. It makes you wonder if he usually trusts everyone this easily or if it's something reserved for you.

When you hand him the last book, you move to the back of the room slowly, the place where you keep some important magical amulets and tools, waiting on any sign from the Goddess forbidding you from lending him any of them. He comes to stand beside you then, likely noticing your hesitation.

“There is also an artifact that I think could help your friend,” you start, picking up the bracelet in question and holding it up as you explain its power, “This can help numb one's powers.”

“Like faebane?”

You shake your head, “No, this is completely painless, but it's vital that it is only used when she's finding herself lost in her visions and you're struggling to pull her out. This is not to be used as a crutch. If she used it to suppress her powers too often, she might never be able to take control of her full powers and this bracelet could become something she can't live without.” He nods, hopefully understanding the gravity behind your words. “It's also extremely rare and dangerous so I ask that, as soon as she has a better grasp of her abilities, I would say within a few years at most, this bracelet is delivered back to the temple so it can be kept safe.”

“What happens if we don't return it?”

The question makes you tense up and close your hands around the bracelet, your voice coming out clipped as you answer him. “I'm not entirely sure as no one has ever attempted something so foolish as long as I've been here, but those types of transgressions are handled by the Goddess so I imagine you would not be able to keep it even if you tried.”

“I wasn't considering keeping it. I was merely curious,” he rushes to explain, sincerity dripping from every word and making you relax a bit.

“Curious?”

“If you would be the one to come for it,” he confessed.

A warm tingly feeling spreads through your body as you digest his words. Would he seriously consider stealing from a God just for a chance to see you again? Even if it meant being at the end of your wrath? Can you be confident the bond wouldn't drive you to such extremes as well?

“I can't leave the temple unattended,” you murmur, much too softly for your own good. Your emotions are running all over the place, it almost seems like they're fighting to see which one will take control of your body, and unfortunately, you have an inkling as to which is winning as his scent overwhelms your senses once again.

“Of course,” he says, taking a small step closer to you, shadows mostly retreating from his body, “Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you.” Must his voice sound like a cup of hot chocolate after a day spent playing in the snow?

It doesn't help that you've been in this temple for so long that you can't even recall the last time someone touched you, not even sexually, no one has so much as held your hand or hugged you in decades, ever since your parents passed. Looking at him, you know you could get lost in his arms, your head resting against his strong chest.

It's only when you squeeze the bracelet too hard, a bit of its power zapping through you, that you're finally able to pull yourself from the beautiful hazel of his eyes, and your consuming thoughts. Clearing your throat and handing him the bracelet. He only hesitates a second, likely pulling himself out of the moment as well, before carefully taking it from your hand, conscious of not letting his skin touch yours, much to your dismay.

You can feel your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred hands before you have a chance to school your features. The armor he wears and the sword strapped between his wings tell you he's a warrior, but you can't imagine what could have happened for this injury to scar like this. Someone employed directly under the High Lord must have access to the best healers in the court. Suddenly, anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach at the thought that someone dared to hurt your mate.

This time he's the one to pull away from you abruptly, shadows returning to their master, and that infuriating string tugging at your heart as he does. It makes you want to reach out and hold his hand, reassure him somehow, but thankfully your brain catches up to the thought that might be overstepping, and so you simply nod at him and ask him to follow you back to the temple's main room once more.

The walk back is filled with a heavy atmosphere, not only considering your oversight, but also at the realization that you must send him away now, likely never to see him again. If you're lucky he will be the one to return the bracelet, and you will be able to see him in a few years. The thought makes you slow your pace.

It's only when you reach the heavy doors, that you allow yourself to turn to him, his face reflecting your feelings perfectly. You briefly consider mentioning the bond, at least to make sure he feels it too, but you fail to see what good that would bring. You still can't leave the temple and, now that he's gotten what he came for, he will not be able to return either. This will be the last time you see each other, regardless of your feelings.

He studies your face carefully, perhaps wondering the same. It seems he reaches a conclusion as he speaks up, “Can you tell me your name?” He sounded hopeful, but somehow scared of asking, as if denying him could hurt him beyond comparison.

You whisper your name hesitantly, knowing this isn't just another stranger, this was your mate. He repeats it, tasting it on his tongue as he stares at you with an intensity you almost couldn't bear, but were unable to look away from.

“My name is Azriel,” he offers willingly, like he wanted nothing more than to hear you say his name, and who were you to deny him this when you were already withholding so much? You repeat his name the same way he did yours, the impertinent little silver string connecting you and your mate reappearing as the delicious word left your lips.

You keep repeating it in your mind as he thanks you for your help and you watch him take flight, hesitation written in his entire body language as his wings slowly carry him over the clouds, looking back down multiple times as if fighting himself to keep moving. You repeat it once more out loud, when you can't see him anymore and you know he's out of earshot. This time his name is followed by a broken whisper of an apology.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The flight back to Velaris was one of the hardest ones Azriel has ever attempted, noticeably taking him much longer than it would have under normal circumstances. He has had to fly back home on an injured body and even injured wings, carrying another with him – Cassian of all people – and he's had to fly through the most extreme weather, heavy rain, snow and the torrid desert sun. All of those things had seemed easy compared to what he was experiencing now with a well rested body.

Both Rhysand and Cassian had mentioned how the mating bond made them act differently, how it seemed like it was taking control of their body and pushing them to act a certain way, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. His every instinct was screaming at him to turn around and go back for his mate.

He even had to take a break along the way, after watching the temple disappear right before his eyes, hidden inside the spell that had kept it safe for millenia. As the sight of the brilliant building was replaced with trees and rocks, the only thing going through Azriel's mind was that he might never see his mate again, the mere thought sending his heart into disarray. He spends a good while sitting under the moonlight, looking ahead at where he knows she is, while his shadows do their best to comfort him. Trying desperately to wrap his head around everything that happened, and how much his life changed in such a short time.

If he had been given a warning, a chance to prepare himself, then maybe he would have approached things differently, but getting blindsided by a mating bond wasn't in his plans. In fact, it had been a good while since he had stopped hoping for a mate.

He had longed for one most of his life. For someone that not only was his equal, but was also able to connect to him in ways only those who have experienced such a thing can begin to comprehend. A person that would accept him no matter how wretched he was, how much blood he has had to wash off his hands for the sake of his court. Someone he would love with every breath in him, even if it ruined him completely.

So many don't truly believe in mating bonds until they see them in front of them, but Azriel always did. He'd seen the worst this world had to offer and knew that if there was such darkness, then its counterpart would be equally as strong. And what could be stronger and brighter than love?

It wasn't until his brothers found mates of their own within a year of each other that Azriel started truly wishing for one though. Before, it was nothing more than a dream, just as he had dreamt of flying when he was locked in his cell, of seeing his mother when his cruel father kept him away from her, but seeing the happiness the mating bond had brought his brothers and how amazing the connection they shared with their mates was, he couldn't help longing for the same.

That was until enough years passed, everyone around him happily mated or in loving relationships while he stood by and watched from the same dark corner of the room. Azriel had convinced himself he wasn't worthy of a mate, even now after seeing you he can't help but feel the same. You were perfect in every aspect of the word, a beacon of light even kept away in your temple, while Azriel was nothing more than a monster. The feared Spymaster of the Night Court. Always ready to drench his hands in blood for the sake of his family and his home, always covered in shadows. A lesser fae, Illyrian of all kinds.

You deserve someone better, of that much he's sure, but the Mother had decided you were equals, and Azriel didn't mind doing his best to be worthy of you even if he had to work for it for the rest of his life. He's been waiting to love someone for so long, has been saving all of that inside him, and he wants nothing more than to shower you in affection, in reverence. Except it didn't seem like he would have the chance.

For most of your interaction, Azriel was convinced you had also felt the bond forming between you two, but he couldn't be sure, not when you hadn't even mentioned it or alluded to it before showing him out. Maybe he had read too much into things, let his own feelings bleed into his analysis, or maybe you simply didn't want a mating bond, not with someone like him. It didn't seem like you knew of him, but who's to say you haven't heard of the awful things he's done, and decided you didn't want anything to do with a monster like him.

The thought had his shadows rushing to soothe him once more, whispering vehement denials of his unworthiness as they covered him. Unfortunately, they wouldn't answer any of his questions about you, claiming it wasn't their place to explain your feelings or situation. In a way they were right, but that left him with no idea of what to think.

Azriel sat on that mountain, mulling over everything that had happened until the first rays of the sun started rising over the horizon. It wasn't until Rhysand reached out to check on him, worried at his spymaster's unusual tardiness, that he resumed his trip back to Velaris, this time passing through shadows along the way to cut his time shorter, hoping his brother hadn't caught glimpse of the heartbreakingly beautiful female consuming his every thought. Trying desperately to clear his mind as the cool wind hit his face, preparing for the meeting that was waiting for him as soon as he got home.

“So the temple truly exists?” Rhysand had been as skeptical about the temple's existence as Azriel, finding it hard to believe that such a thing could be hidden in his own court without his knowledge.

Azriel nods and sets the books you've given him on the dark desk, dropping the bracelet on top of the pile carefully, trying not to be reminded of the way you had handed it to him, or focus on your scent still clinging to it faintly. Shaking himself out of it and letting the spymaster mask fall over his face, he starts explaining how he had found the temple behind a powerful spell, going into detail about the building itself, the keeper who had helped him and the books and bracelet given to him, including the warnings you gave him, making sure to stress the fact that the bracelet was to be returned as soon as Elain gained enough control of her abilities.

“You really didn't feel the wards around the temple?”

“No, if my shadows hadn't disappeared right before my eyes I wouldn't have even noticed they were there.” So much had happened that Azriel almost forgot how peculiar those wards were, in fact all the magic present in the temple and in you had felt different.

“And this keeper?” His heart speeds up treacherously, enough so that Rhys gets a curious glint in his purple eyes, undoubtedly noticing it. “Tell me about her.”

A soft scowl takes over his features, a strange possessiveness creeping up before has the chance to quell it. “She was waiting for me at the entrance. Apparently the Moon Goddess warned her there was a visitor coming.”

“She can talk to the Goddess?”

“It seems so,” Azriel hesitates for a moment, “Her magic is different from any fae I've seen. Her hair is completely white, and her eyes aren't much darker, maybe a bit more silver. There was a certain aura about her, her entire being seemed to glow beautifully under the moonlight, even more when we moved inside. She truly looked otherworldly. In that moment, she looked even more radiant than the stars and the moon combined.”

A moment of silence falls over the room as everyone digests Azriel's words, tiny gasps leaving Feyre and Elain, who had been out of it for most of the conversation as a result of yet another one of her visions, and Nesta's jaw dropping significantly as they were not used to hearing the Shadowsinger muse about someone like this. Unfortunately, the others have seen him drunk enough when he was younger, so it wasn't as much of a surprise.

“What was that, brother?” Cassian's teasing voice cuts through his thoughts, “I thought you didn't resort to poetry.”

Azriel looks up at this, heat rising to his cheeks at the amused looks shared by everyone in the room, realizing he had lost himself in his descriptions of you, unable to keep them as clinical as he normally would, especially when it came to a mission.

“I just meant her magic manifests in a way I've never seen before,” he finishes lamely, one of his shadows oh so helpfully crawling up his neck to notify him that no one seemed to believe his excuse.

“Right, her magic,” Nesta mocks, suddenly interested in hearing about the temple after focusing on the books that would be helping her sister.

Thankfully, Amren didn't care about whether he found the keeper beautiful or not, and wanted to keep the conversation on track, a bored expression on her face as she pulled the attention back to her and the topic at hand.

“You said she called herself the keeper of the temple, correct?”

Azriel nods at her while checking his mental walls just in case, lest he also let them fall in his moment of distraction, and his High Lord or Lady saw something they shouldn't. He can only guess what feelings and thoughts would be attached to your image in his mind. If they saw this he would never hear the end of it.

“I believe she not only can communicate with the Goddess but also shares some of her powers. It's hard to determine just how powerful she truly is,” the ancient one turns to Rhys and Feyre, a serious look taking over her features, “She could become a threat to us.”

“She's not a threat,” his voice cuts through the room, protecting his mate instinctively.

Rhysand raises one annoyingly perfect eyebrow at Azriel's sudden outburst. Some of the amusement still lingers around the room, but the anger behind his statement was undeniable, creating some tension and confusion between everyone. It's not often they see him so on edge, to the point of raising his voice at Amren of all people.

He tries to calm himself as much as possible, knowing this is a symptom of the mating bond and that his brothers and sister-in-laws might be able to figure that out, and tries to explain himself once again.

“I was the one who talked to her, there were no ill intentions when she guided me through the temple and gave me the books. She even added more books than we wanted or knew existed, and the bracelet. She helped us willingly.”

Amren studies him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer before finishing her earlier thought. “Even if she had any ill intentions, keepers are bound to their temples and can't physically leave, so there wouldn't be much to worry about.”

It feels like the world stops when Azriel hears these words. Every little hope he was clinging to in regards to your bond escaped him in that moment. If what Amren said was true, you couldn't leave the temple, even if you wanted to come and find him, and he couldn't find the temple unless he needed something and the Goddess showed him the way. He could very well never see you again, or only once more, when Elain got better and he had to deliver the books and bracelet back to the temple. Was that why you ignored the bond? Because you knew there was no hope for the two of you?

Azriel spends the rest of the meeting in a sort of trance, barely able to listen to what his family was talking about, or even register what they decided when it came to helping Elain use the books. It was impossible to focus on anything when it felt like his life, a dream that had barely started was crumbling right before his eyes. He only tunes back in when the meeting is over and most of the Inner Circle starts leaving, hoping he can at least go rest from his flight, take a long bath and find a quiet place to be alone and digest these life changing last few hours.

He was already on his feet, dragging his exhausted body to the door when Rhys called out his name, making him turn around in question. “There's something else we need to discuss.” His brother was always the most perceptive at the worst times. The last thing Azriel wants to do right now is discuss his miserable fate with anyone.

Everyone filters out the room then, even Feyre who drops a kiss on her mate's cheek before following her sister out - a gesture he's more than used to witnessing but bears a different weight today - leaving the two brothers alone in the quiet office. Azriel doesn't move from his spot, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms as Rhysand studies him, daring him to start the conversation, secretly praying he simply has another mission to send him on instead of the conversation he's almost sure is about to start.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with this keeper?”

Azriel has to physically stop himself from sighing. Why couldn't the Mother let him have a moment after everything that has already happened in the last few hours?

“Nothing happened,” he sounds defensive even to himself, his mind too preoccupied to try and mask his emotions, “She gave me the books and then I left.” This much was true, unfortunately.

Rhys simply hums, always sounding irritatingly sure of himself. “So you wouldn't mind showing me your memories of last night, right? I'd like to take a good look at the temple. It seemed quite intriguing,” he pauses for a second, head tilting a fraction to the side, mouth forming into a smirk, “and so did she.”

A snarl escapes Azriel's mouth at his brother's words. Even if he knew he was being baited, controlling this damned bond was impossible right now. Rhysand's smirk only deepens, like a predator who successfully lured its prey, since his brother gives him the exact reaction he was expecting with that little comment. No wonder Azriel has to work so hard as his Spymaster, it's a miracle Rhys has lived this long.

“You look very defensive of a female you've only exchanged one simple conversation with.”

“Like I said before,” he says, that snarl not quite leaving his lips no matter how hard he tries, “She helped us without a second thought, even more than we expected. I just don't understand why everyone keeps insisting that she might be a threat.”

“I didn't say she was a threat, I simply asked you to show me what she looked like.” The High Lord taps his purple painted nails on the table, waiting for a response. When it becomes clear that Azriel isn't taking the bait, Rhys keeps going, “Can't blame me for being curious of how this keeper beautifully glows under the moonlight. She looked otherworldly, you said?”

The thought of assassinating his loving brother crosses Azriel's mind. He doesn't even know what to respond knowing those were his own words, and any reaction would be amplified by the mating bond. The High Lord had him right where he wanted him.

As he keeps staring at his brother, shadows climbing up his body until most of him is covered from those intense violet eyes, Rhysand's expression changes, a somewhat defeated look replacing the earlier amusement as he accepts that he'll have to pry the truth from his spymaster.

“Azriel, I've known you for over five centuries. I can tell when you're hiding something from me,” his face and tone turning even more serious as he continues, “I also know what a fresh mating bond feels like, the emotions it evokes in us.”

Azriel stares at his brother for another moment, before realizing there was no need to try and pretend he wasn't right, letting out a sigh before sitting down in the chair across from him defeatedly, shadows settling while his wings drooped, enough to touch the floor.

“If you already know, why are you asking me about it?”

“I didn't expect this to be your reaction,” he says, thoroughly studying Azriel's face. “I don't understand why you wouldn't be happy. I know it can be scary, but you've always wanted a mate, Az.”

“There's nothing to be happy about.”

Rhys simply rolls his eyes, “I know a bit more about mating bonds than you do. Trust me there's a lot to be happy about.”

His temper rises at this, emotions still not having settled - he's starting to wonder if they ever will. Even his shadows were becoming overstimulated, not knowing how to soothe their singer in these circumstances.

“Didn't you hear what Amren said? She can't leave the temple, she's bound to it, and I can't go back there since it's hidden under whatever spell that was,” the words almost caught in his throat, “I'm never seeing her again.”

Saying it out loud makes the whole situation unbearably real. It's not often Azriel sees himself in conversation such as these, always one to ignore his feelings for as long as possible, and then isolating himself when they become too much, but his brother knows him too well, as he said before, and was prying out everything too easily.

“I don't even know if she wanted this,” he finds himself whispering.

“Why wouldn't she?”

Azriel swallows all the self-pity, the unworthiness he felt when it came to you, or anyone else really. Diving into these feelings would lead them into a different conversation, one he wasn't sure he could handle, much less right now, and so he opts for the simpler answer.

“She didn't mention the bond once, she was ignoring it – if she even felt it at all,” he leans back and runs his hand through his hair, “my feelings were muddled the whole time I was there so I can't even know for sure.”

“You didn't tell her you were her mate either,” Rhysand reminds him.

Would things have gone a different way if he had? Or would you simply let him down as soon as he brought it up? Did it even matter? Would he be able to survive your rejection?

“She told you the temple showed itself for the people who needed it, right?” Azriel looks up at his brother, nodding. “Seems to me like you need to talk to her.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

You're not entirely sure what one is supposed to do after finding their Mother-blessed mate, and then proceed to send them on their way, possibly to never return. Not being able to get even a wink of sleep and spending the next few hours searching your library for any information on mating bonds seems appropriate though. There wasn't anything written in these books that you didn't already know about mating bonds: extreme attraction, a connection of emotions, feelings of primal possessiveness, the possibility for a love unlike any other.

There was no mention of the silver string you'd seen tied around both of your hearts, but the bond seems to manifest itself differently for everyone, and the magic your Goddess has poured into you was peculiar to say the least. Even Azriel might not have seen or felt it manifest the same way you did, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Denying it is out of the picture at this point.

The section about rejecting mating bonds caught your eye, but it quickly soured your mood. It seems there's no way to reject a mating bond and hope for life to ever go back to normal, especially for males as they would always feel like a part of them was missing. The book didn't exactly go into depth on the topic – there can't be too many other idiots thinking of turning down a mating bond, – so it didn't mention anything about just ignoring the bond. Would it just fizzle out until you could barely feel anything, or would it end up with the same effects of a rejected bond? As much as you knew this bond was doomed from the start, you didn't want to convict Azriel to a lifetime of madness, or even worse. It was bad enough he couldn't get a mate out of you.

After your mood deflates at the bleak prospect for your future, and the sun has already replaced the moon, you decide to indulge yourself for a moment. Since your encounter had been so brief, you ended up not finding out too much about Azriel aside from his name, and, as much as there was a voice nagging at the back of your mind, warning you that trying to learn more about your mate won't help you in successfully ignoring the bond at all, you're still only fae and curiosity got the best of you. How could you not be curious about your mate?

You'd heard stories about a shadowsinger working under the High Lord of the Night Court, but you didn't know if that was him as the High Lord had changed since then. If it was though, this would make him a truly important figure for this court, country even. You can't help but feel proud at the thought.

Your search for information on Shadowsingers soon proves fruitless, not being able to find much else aside from their abilities to communicate with shadows, rare as they are, so you move onto researching winged fae instead, in hopes of finding out what kind he is. There are various kinds, this much you know, but for some reason you've always imagined them all to have feathered wings. It's at times like these that you wished you had traveled more when you were younger.

Most of the day is spent like this, tucked into your favorite sofa in the library, the temple refilling your teacup and offering you little snacks as you search for any bit of information that could help you understand who Azriel is. A tug on your silver string finally pulls you out of the moment, body immediately going into alert as you feel your mate nearing. These feelings are entirely too abstract, there's no way of knowing if he's flying over the temple or simply a bit closer than he had been an hour prior - which could still be halfway across the Night Court. You'd also found in one of the books that mates could attempt reaching out to each other through the bond, the descriptions of the resulting feeling appearing quite similar to what you were experiencing at the moment.

You try to ignore it and carry on reading your book on wings - the irony not lost on you - but the string keeps tugging incessantly, even more firmly now, and you suddenly get the feeling that he was actually close, possibly even trying to reach out at the same time or following the bond.

Had he come looking for you? You told him the temple kept itself hidden unless the visitor needed something from within these walls and the Goddess allowed them passage. He had to know that he wouldn't find anything more than trees and shrubs in this forest, the temple keeping itself out of sight even if he had been here before and knew its exact location, such were the wards around this place.

Putting away the book and sitting up on the sofa, you wonder what you should do. There's no way of communicating with him, and you won't be able to let him in, no matter how desperate you were since that decision was not your own to make. Your role was to protect the temple, but you knew he wasn't a threat either. Were you to simply stand by and watch while he looked for you, only to be met with silence? The Mother seems to have a twisted sense of humor.

As you were preparing yourself mentally for what you assumed were going to be a tough few hours, you feel the unmistakable sign of someone passing through the barrier, prompting you to stand up and winnow straight to the main hall, opening the front doors in a rush, only to find a familiar dark figure waiting for you.

If you weren't witnessing it with your own eyes, if your heart wasn't beating at that rhythm that seemed reserved solely for him, you wouldn't have believed this to be true. Your feet move of their own accord, carrying you towards your mate as he stands at the entrance to your temple, a contagiously hopeful expression on his face as he watches you move to him.

“How did you get here?” You can't help the dumb question, not being able to understand what is happening in the midst of your surprise and every other feeling that came with his presence.

“I needed to talk to you,” he explains in a breathy tone, smiling down at you like he wasn't sure if this would have worked either, if he was actually going to be able to find you.

The Goddess showed him the way, if She hadn't he wouldn't have been able to find you, even with any shadowsinger trick he might have had up his sleeve. Could She know he's your mate? She had been the one to warn you of his arrival the day before after all.

You're still trying to gather your thoughts when he continues, skipping over all the pleasantries as if he couldn't keep the words in any longer.

“You're my mate.”

Hearing the word coming from his mouth makes your heart soar, a tingling feeling spreading over your entire body as if lava was now running through your veins. This was not a confession you needed to hear, but the bond welcomed it anyway.

“I know,” you admit, a bittersweet smile overtaking your features.

“Are you unhappy with it? With me?” You quickly shake your head in denial, but he continues before you have the chance to explain, “I would understand it if you were, and if you don't want the bond, I won't force you to accept it. I promise I will never hurt you.”

Is this what has been going through his mind since he left? That you wouldn't want him? The thought makes you swallow, you've only wanted to spare him as much pain as you could, not hurt him more yourself.

“Azriel, that's not it. There's nothing wrong with you, or any reason I wouldn't want you as my mate” you assure, “but I swore my life to protecting this temple, and I can't physically leave the grounds. That's not fair to you.”

He doesn't seem to be surprised at the information, meaning he was probably already aware of your predicament and decided to come talk to you anyway, but he still takes a moment before speaking, thinking through his words as he watches you, shadows coming up to whisper in his ear.

“Did you make a vow of chastity or anything similar?” The question takes you aback for a second, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication.

“Not explicitly, no,” you clear your throat, “but it's hard to keep a relationship when you're bound to a temple hidden in the middle of nowhere. I can't even walk past the first few steps.”

Azriel looks behind him at your words. If he took a few steps down, you wouldn't be able to follow him, a different set of wards keeping you within these grounds. When he meets your eyes once again, you add carefully, “This isn't a relationship worth pursuing when we both know it won't end up working.”

“I think I would like to decide that for myself,” he says as he takes a small step closer to you, “if you'll allow me.”

“What?”

“I would like to come visit you whenever I can, and get to know you. This… I don't think we should throw away a chance like this so lightly, not without at least giving it a try.” He closes most of the distance between you, raising up his hand and holding his palm up for you to take, “Even if it never becomes a romantic relationship, or if it ends up breaking both of our hearts, I don't want to be the person who didn't fight for something so special in fear of getting hurt.”

You watch his hand as you mull over his words. It's not as if he doesn't make sense in his argument, you're more than aware how downright stupid it is to throw away a mating bond when some people spend their whole lives searching for one, but you're scared, for both of your sakes. Letting your mate into your life, even without accepting the bond, knowing that there will come a time when you will want more from it than what you're capable of having would not simply hurt you both, but change both of your lives beyond recognition – it could even kill you. And yet, staring into his hopeful eyes every little reason why you should be turning him down, walking back into the temple and closing the door behind you, seems to escape your mind.

When his hand lowers slightly, wings drooping as well, possibly taking your hesitation as denial, your hand moves to hold his instinctively, surprising the both of you. You had been kidding yourself into thinking you could fight a bond like this. The smallest sign that your mate would leave and your body moved to keep him by your side. Your decision has been made. You can only hope the Gods will have mercy on you.

“I would like to get to know you too, Azriel,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours as a blinding smile takes over his devastatingly handsome face. “As long as the Goddess shows you the way to the temple, I don't see anything wrong with… talking.”

He lets his thumb run over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips, sending your heart into disarray as he leaves a soft kiss on your skin. A flush covers the tip of his ears, and you catch a flash of the silver string connecting the both of you.

“Then I promise to come see you as often as I can.” He lets your hands fall between you two, fingers still intertwined as you stare at each other like fools. You catch yourself after a moment, thanking the Mother for living in this isolated mountain for once so no one could witness this.

“Do you want to come in? You must be tired after your flight,” you invite, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his skin immediately.

His gaze drops to your hand before meeting yours once again and nodding, following you inside into the main hall he had been in before. It looked different in the light of day, his hazel eyes studying it once more.

“I didn't fly all the way here,” he starts, gaze still stuck on the stone covered walls, “I can travel through shadows, similarly to how most high fae can winnow.”

“Oh.” You watch as his shadows move lazily around him, coming up his legs. “Is that one of your shadowsinger abilities?”

“Yes.” You wanted to ask more, your earlier curiosity returning, but you find a conflicted expression when he meets your eyes, you can also feel it in your chest, and so you wait for him to decide if he wants to share it with you.

“I'm not high fae,” he admits.

“Right, the wings,” you let out, much too excitedly, as your eyes fall on the huge appendages on his back, “I've never met anyone with wings, and haven't even heard of featherless wings. I searched in the library for types of winged fae, but most of our collection is a bit outdated, and the Goddess was never too interested in those sorts of things so I couldn't find anything that fit your description.” Your mind finally catches up to your words then, eyes widening before falling to your hands as you play with your fingers, and add lamely, “I have a lot of time on my hands here, and I didn't think I'd see you again so…”

You dare a look at his face when his silence drags on too long, finding him watching you with a surprised expression, wide hazel eyes staring into your white ones. His shadows had crept up his neck once again - singing to him you suppose.

Azriel finally finds his words after another moment, your eyes not straying from his for a second, “I'm Illyrian,” he starts, studying your face carefully before continuing, “As far as I know, we're the only ones whose wings have no feathers.”

“Illyrian?”

“Have you heard of it?” He seems scared somehow, but you're not exactly sure why he would be. You try to remember where you've heard the word before, only taking you a moment to remember them as people who live in the mountains up in the north, and were part of the High Lord's army.

“Yes. I know they're people who live in the mountains, and fought in the war but I didn't even know you had wings,” you gesture to them, “I didn't get much of a chance to travel before I came to the temple, so I've never met any Illyrians.”

“That's all you've heard?” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing at his insistence. “Illyrians have an unfavorable reputation. The males train their whole lives to fight, and the females aren't regarded as much more than a means for procreation,” he explains further, “Some have started changing their ways, slowly, but most camps insist on their traditions, no matter how cruel. They- We just don't have a good reputation.”

You start understanding where he was getting at. Some fae had trouble opening their eyes to how the world was changing around them, choosing to remain willfully ignorant to the harm it brought those who were different from them, who they deemed as lesser. He was scared that, had you heard about whatever cruelty he's seen from his peers, you would judge him for it. You feel a little offended that he would think so lowly of you, but the truth is he doesn't know you at all, or you him.

“It's hard to outlive archaic traditions when we live for centuries. I wouldn't ever dream of passing judgment on an entire group of people for the beliefs some of its members insist on clinging onto,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, shrugging as you smile up at him, “and I might be biased, or even wrong, but I think you're very kind, Azriel. You came all the way here to help your friend, with no real proof that you'd find what you were looking for, and then you came back to ask permission to visit me, even when you thought I might not accept it. Cruel is the last word I'd use to describe you. I'd rather go with sweet.”

“Sweet?” He asks, a flush rising to his cheeks and a bashful smile finally erasing that conflicted expression off his face. “You think I'm sweet?” You hum in agreement, your grin growing so large it hurts your cheeks. “I'll have to let my mother know at last someone agrees with her.”

You let out a laugh, the image of a baby Azriel getting showered in praises from his mother entering your mind. You almost have trouble imagining him as a child, but you have no doubts he was more than sweet, adorable even, with his round cheeks and small wings.

“So…” You lean back on your heels, intertwining your hands behind your back. “Do you want me to show you around the temple?”

“I would love to,” he agrees with a blinding smile on his face.

[madamechrissy]

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. Also, Cunnilingus first chap

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8.3k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name.

Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? 💓Materlist💓

(If you wanna be tagged in updates let me know 💓) Lawyer AU

Chapter 1

The music throbbed in your chest, vibrating against your ribs as you navigated the packed dance floor. You weren't much of a club person, but your good friend Maki insisted you needed to 'let loose' after a particularly stressful week doing the LSATS. It had definitely taken its toll on all of you and your friends, but you’d passed, now finally in one of the top law schools after your Bachelors.

Now, surrounded by a sea of bodies writhing to the beat, you were unsure what the appeal was, overwhelming your senses. The heat of the crowd, the energy radiating from every corner of the room, people so close as you stood there it was as if you could not breathe. Everyone was dancing wildly in the club, a club you felt out of place in.

For years you’d pretty much holed yourself up in your room or overachieved in class. you had no time for boyfriends, distractions, fun… not if you wanted a top score and a killer internship.

You were ambitious as fuck.

Maki said you should all be proud, let loose… have fun but you’d damn near forgotten how to.

Maki was dancing with Yuta now, another boy going to the same law school as you two, they wave at you through the crowd, you smile and wave back, then decide to face everyone and go grab a drink finally. You were more of a wallflower than anything, preferring to be at home with a good book rather than dancing around on various college boys, you wish you were a little more fun.

You head over to where the bar is, shyly getting the attention of the bartender, grabbing a cranberry vodka. The social anxiety was creeping in so you figure the alcohol will fix it.

You turn, then smash into someone.

“Shit!” You look at the broad chest you’d bumped into, the only thing in your field of vision, of a very expensive looking shirt you’d just dropped cranberry vodka all over, spreading through the fancy fabric quickly, luckily, it was a navy blue, but you still panicked. You snatch up a ton of napkins and start frantically wiping at it. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Can I pay for drycleaning? Do I need to buy one? I-”

A hand grabs your wrist, big, enveloping it like you were nothing, and your eyes finally rise up to the tall man in front of you, a smirk playing on handsome features. His eyes were the most striking thing about him, blue as the sky after a storm, sparkling with something devious, fringed by white spiky lashes. His face was so pretty it nearly hurt to look at.

Full lips, perfect model cheekbones, a strong jaw line… literally looking like he stepped out of GQ or something. His silvery white hair was striking, and he stood well over a foot taller than you, imposing, tempting…and your hand was on his chest, clutching crumpled napkins, your wrist in that firm grip.

You froze, overwhelmed, confused by your reaction… you’d met plenty of gorgeous men in your life, you had handsome male friends, but something about him drew out something primal in you… Something…

The fuck. The dude has you wet?

Jesus maybe you were due for a good fuck.

Maki was right.

“It’s all right, lots of women have this reaction. I’m just really ridiculously good looking.” He says with a grin, easing the grip off your wrist, taking your hand now, you gasp, mouth open, unsure of what to say. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re… arrogant as fuck! Wow.” He laughs, deep and baritone, and fuck if he isn’t even more attractive as he does.

“And you’re clumsy as fuck.” You sigh, covering your face now.

“I’m so sorry… I am clumsy, ugh. Can I try to get the stain out, please, I feel awful.” He snorts in laughter, looking down at you, intense gaze seeing right through you somehow. His look follows down your body, your low cut little crop top that was nothing like you were usually in, your little skirt…

“Trying to get me naked, hmm?” You scowl as he grabs your waist, but then some sensation hits you… the warm grip and his big fucking hands burn as they touch your bare skin. You falter, in confusion, for you had not even had a drink yet to account for such things.

“I am not at all! I just feel bad. I…” You wouldn’t mind seeing him naked, but you shove that thought down deep in the recesses, clearing your throat with a little blush, for his hand is still on your waist.

“Your own outfit is stained, baby girl. Look.” You peek down and realize what he’d been staring at. “My shirt’s dark, it'll be fine. We need to get that cleaned up.”

“It's okay, it's silky, it should come off.” You now rub the stain on your chest, which he openly looks at, sipping his own drink.

“You look like you don’t belong here.” He gestured to the crowded, loud club, full of dancing bodies, pool tables with beer pong set up, there was even a drunken Giant Jenga game, loudly crashing blocks. You looked back up to him, lost in that gaze, it was as if his eyes held your attention there.

“I don’t belong here.” You managed to say, and he brushed a lock of your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. God, how did just those little actions turn you on so much? “I don’t go out to clubs, I don’t really even do shit but study. My friends over there…” You point them out. “They are making me try.”

He smirks as he looks over at them. “Well, shit, then you should give it a shot. Want me to grab you another drink?”

“Oh no, I owe you one if anything. Can I buy you one?” He shrugs casually, smirking a bit.

“I’m so pretty a girl is buying me drinks, hmm?” You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head.

“Just tell me what you like.”

“Something sweet.” He whispers, leaning over you a bit, behind you, chest against your back, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine, you wave back at the bartender, who takes pity on you.

“On the house, sweetheart.” He winks, and you blink in surprise.

“Oh thank you so much.” The bartender leans over a bit, smiling, and you feel this stranger next to you tense. “Can I also get a chocolatini?”

“Yummy.” He says next to you, and the bartender just looks at him, then eases back, smiling and handing it to you too.

“Thanks so much again.” You tip him big with a smile, then hand the white haired god next to you the little chocolate drink.

“Hmm, what is this?” He asks, icy blue eyes staring into the glass, stirring the chocolatey liquid around.

“It’s sweet. Try it.”

He takes a sip, licking his full lips, distracting you. “Mmm, this is perfect, shit.” He sips it, moaning and closing his eyes, and it pushes wild thoughts, addling your mind. “Okay, forgiven for the mess.”

“Good.” You start sipping your drink and sighing, letting the tart bite hit your tongue.

“Satoru, by the way.” He says, in that deep voice, a baritone that hit octaves that did wild things to your psyche. You look up at him, realizing just how close you are, feeling overheated. You tell him your name, softly, and he repeats it, sounding far too good on his lips.

“Well, it's nice to literally run into you, Satoru. I guess.”

“Usually I get girls wet, not the other way around.” He says audaciously, with a wink, you snort in laughter.

“You’re something else.” You say with an eye roll, then peek over to see Maki drunkenly making out in a corner, grinding her ass on Yuta as they dance. “Ah shit, I don’t think I’m gonna have my friends tonight. Third wheel life, but they’re my good friends who deal with me being antisocial.”

“You did seem pretty fucking awkward.” He says teasingly, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Dick.” You snort, sipping your drink, the music hits and it’s one of your favorite songs, but you’re too nervous to do anything, just standing there. You peek up at him in surprise. “You don’t have to hang out over here, I am sure your friends want to hang out with you.”

“Yeah… they’re all out of here at this point. I was heading out too, just closing up the tab when you ran into me.” You suddenly feel a weird sense of disappointment that should not exist.

“Oh…” You sip your drink again, hips ever so slightly swaying to the beat of the music, body starting to feel the warmth as the liquor slides through you. “Well it was nice meeting you though? And you got a chocolatini?”

“Yes, and it is yummy.” He stands there, and your eyes lock, something just pulling you towards the man too gorgeous to exist in this world, the conceited little shit who smelled really fucking good. You expect him to leave, but he just stands, sipping his drink, eyes lowering to your hips as they sway.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” You ask, leaning your head to the side, hair falling. He casually brushes it back, you struggle not to show how much you like it, casual fucking little caresses when you're touch starved as it is. But especially from him for some reason.

“I was just hanging out with my friends, Suguru and Kento. Just unwinding a bit, we get together once a month at some random place and get lit.” He sips more of his drink, somehow you’ve gotten closer.

“Oh, that sounds like fun though. I swear I don’t think I’ve been to a club? Is that really pathetic?”

“You’re kinda boring huh?”

“Maybe. I apparently need to let loose and have fun since I got my Bachelors degree.”

“It’s not the worst idea. You like this song don’t you?” He asks softly, and you feel your heart race, nervously trying to stop the swaying of your body to the beat. You nod, instead, and he takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

“I… what are we…”

“Let’s dance. That'll loosen you up a bit.”

“I don’t know how to…” You say softly, confused, he laughs a bit, shaking his head and setting your empty drinks on the bar.

“Everyone can, just follow your body.” He's so confident and self assured.

Satoru is leading you to the dance floor, the music pounding in your ears along with your erratic heartbeat. He pulls you against him, his scent hits you, something intoxicating about it. He pauses for a moment, looking down at your face intently. Even in your heels you have to crank your neck back to look at him, intimidating in his presence.

“What do I… how do I do it?” You ask, he clears his throat, smirking again, turning you so your ass and back are against him, you gasp just a bit. His hands hit low on your hips, so warm through them, luoure hot and sticky between your thighs.

“Feel the beat of the song.” He murmurs in your ear, moving your hips in a figure eight motion with those big hands. Why were they so big? Fuck. “You’re too tense, close your eyes and just focus on the music and me.”

His words were a velvet caress, you’d do anything he asked when it sounded like that, it was pathetic almost. You close your eyes, and your other senses are heightened then, feeling his touch, hard body behind you, inch by inch, the fabric of his expensive clothes brushing on your bare skin.

“Like that?” You ask, moving your ass a bit side to side, he shakes his head, grabbing your hips, desire shoots through you.

“Nah, loosen up more. There, like that.”

You let your body sway with his, feeling the heat between your skin, the soft brush of his hips against yours, his hand sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls you closer, and you gasp as his body pressed against yours, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a jolt of want.

His hips begin to move against yours, a slow, steady rhythm, and you lose yourself to the music and him, the way he holds you when you face him now, the way he feels, hard lithe body against yours. His hands move up and down your waist, his fingers digging into your skin ever so slightly, making you shiver, a crazy ache wracking through your body.

You tilt your chin up to look at him, arms around his neck, and find his ethereally gorgeous eyes locked onto yours, pupils dilated, making the blue rings of his eyes glow in the blinking lights of the dim club, and his full lips are parted. He's just dripping fucking sex, he’s way too attractive, it was difficult to keep moving and not just stand there and stare at him.

Satoru seems just as lost in this moment as you are, and it only makes you want him more… fuck you didn’t do this, you didn’t think of these things, you had too much to do, too much to focus on. But fuck… would it be the worst thing? To let yourself lose it in the moment, just go with it?

Were you looking too into it?

The music fades out in your head now, the thudding of your heart pounding in your ears, as you feel the way his hips still move against you, the way your hands grip his neck now, you both are just swaying. You’re on your tip toes in heels and nowhere near his height, and it makes you hornier, how fucking big he is, even his hands. He makes you horny, some random stranger you spilled a drink on in the club.

The air feels thick, almost heavy, and for a moment, hard to breathe as both of your eyes stay locked on each other, his hands slide down your hips, they’d been respectful, but they grow bolder. Every beat of the music vibrates through you, along with something maddening, you’re drawing closer and closer to him.

“How am I doing now?” You ask, breathless, he smirks, fucking hot and arrogant as fuck, drawing you in further.

“You’re not too bad.” He teases, you roll your eyes, easing back, but he grabs you to him, hands on your ass now, and you pause, as he grips it, an ass cheek in each of his big hands. “Now that… that’s fucking nice.”

“My ass?” You ask, laughing, he nods, grinning with those fangs of his glinting in the dark smoky room. “Handsy, huh?”

“Want me to stop?” He asks, and you shake your head, looking down a bit, he takes one of his hands, easing your chin up to look at him. Your pulse is hammering in your throat, as he bends lower, you stare at those lips, growing hot everywhere, breath in little pants.

“Oh! Oh…” Maki comes up behind you, and you pause, whirling your head to look at her, she has a big giant grin on her face. “Well, well, introduce me.”

“This is…”

“Satoru.” He smiles, nodding over to her, but he didn’t let you go, he didn’t even move the hand on your ass until you smack at his hand. He glares, as if you’ve taken a toy from him.

“Maki. I was gonna let you know I’m heading out soon, I figured you would wanna come with… or are you… hmm, hanging out more?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, you cover your face in embarrassment.

“I think he was leaving, weren’t you?” You look up at him, his grip tightens just a bit on your waist.

“I am leaving soon, yeah. Can she stay a little longer hmm?” He asks with puppy dog eyes, leaning on your shoulder. Maki rolls her eyes, nodding.

“I’ll give you all another twenty to… dance? I’ll find ya.” She kisses your cheek, and runs off, surely to tell Yuta. You peer back up at Satoru curiously. His gaze has gone from flirtatious to hungry.

“Did you wanna dance more?” You ask, and he laughs a bit.

“I’d like to eat you out.”

“Wha-?”

“Mmhmm.” He’s just standing there, after saying something so fucking wild, your brows dip low in confusion, and your pussy is wet as fuck.

Shit.

“I… huh?”

“I said I-”

You shut his mouth with your hand, yanking him down to do so, he’s so damn tall, and he’s laughing behind your palm. “I heard you! God…”

“You seem so tense.” He murmurs, easing your hand down, then he kisses it, but it’s not gentlemanly, it’s fucking devious, those eyes are insane. “And you’re crazy fucking hot.”

“Me? You… you are.”

“Aw you think I’m hot?” You sigh, looking down for a moment. “Time is ticking, we have less than twenty, and I like to take my time.”

“Jesus… you just wanna eat me out?”

“What, you haven’t done it?” You look away, clearing your throat, and anticipation is eating at you. “Oh fuck, you haven’t!”

“Shush. Why do you want to just do that?”

“It’s fun, duh.” He rolls his eyes at you, as if it were so simple. Your cunt throbs around nothing now, and you look at his lips.

“Don’t most men ask for a blow job?”

“Not men. Boys. I’m a man, baby girl.”

He practically purrs those words, and you’re getting even wetter. “We haven’t even kissed?”

He leans down, wrapping an arm around your hips, lifting you up, like you’re just some doll. Your breath comes out in a squeak, and his lips are pressed on yours now, your arms wrap around his neck, and he’s kissing you as your legs dangle. You open your mouth, moaning, as his tongue slides in, against your own, shooting desire down through you.

“Better?” He whispers, kissing you softer, little pops of kisses. You moan into his lips, tasting his minty breath, mixing with the sweet drink you’d made him.

“I don’t ever do this.” You breathe out. “I… fuck… okay?”

“Yeah?” You nod.

“Yeah.”

Satoru eases you down, and then you’re wildly following him through the throngs of dancers and clubgoers, until he’s knocking, and you all are slinking into the club’s rather fancy fucking bathroom. You contemplate your life in those moments, but when you’re in the bathroom and he’s shoved you against the door, kissing you again, you just go with it.

He feels so good.

“You’re a good kisser, fuck.” You murmur against his lips, he grins, and you realize you’re inflating his ego.

“Mmhmm, I am. I’m even better at this.” He drops to his knees, and your heart is in your throat, your eyes are wide as he’s lifting your skirt up, easing your panties down, smirking up at you.

“Mnh…” Is all that you manage, when he takes them fully off, putting one of your thighs on his shoulder, kissing the sensitive inner part of it. You brace yourself on his broad shoulders, entire body trembling. “Fuck…”

“Say my name, pretty. Satoru.” He orders, and you nod, then your hand gently goes through his hair, silky and perfect against your touch.

“Satoru… I… you sure?”

“If you want it.” You nod, maybe too eager, and his head dips, shoving your skirt up your hips, and he flicks his tongue up your slit. You cry out, trembling at the sensation, so fucking good your hips jerk. “You’re soaked…” He whispers, peeking up at you with those eyes.

You just nod again, you’re at a loss for words now, gulping, and he’s back down there, moaning against your clit, and you gasp as pleasure hits you hard, clenching in your tummy and spreading. His tongue is hot against you, pressure just perfect on your little clit, your hands enwrap further, gripping his hair, and he’s fucking moaning, vibrating on your cunt.

“Satoru…” You cry out, and you’re pulsing around nothing, wetness pouring out of you in spurts, he drinks you up, the sounds obscene in the little bathroom, the music and loud people fading further and further.

“You taste so good.” He murmurs as he pulls back a bit, you manage a mumbled thank you that he smiles at, his eyes are even brighter, a madness almost in them that surely matched your own. You caress his face, thumb rubbing on his lip, mixed with your cum and his saliva, and he moans then, yanking your hand down to your clit. “Feel how wet I’ve got you.”

“Fuck! Mnh…” You feel your slickness against your own fingers now, shaking as you hit your now swollen clit.

Satoru puts your hand back on his head, dipping back down, devouring you, and you hear how wet you are, hear him slurping you up, you’re falling apart, unraveling for this stranger. A guy you just met in a damn nightclub, what is wrong with you? But he’s giving you an unreal amount of pleasure, you’re pulsing now when he slides a long, thick finger in you.

Someone knocks.

You curse.

“Keep quiet, pretty, they’ll hear you.” He winks up at you, and you nod, holding a hand to your face, arching your hips up for more of his touch, his mouth, and he’s working your clit with his tongue as he’s massaging your g spot with his fingertip, it’s too much, too much.

“Mnh!” You struggle to hide your moans, more people are knocking, it’s banging against your back, and Satoru’s devouring you, every bit of your cunt, and you feel yourself start to shake, pleasure shooting through your entire body, your walls are tightening around those long fingers, stretching you out so deliciously. “Satoru… I… too much…”

“Shush.” He peers up at you, those gorgeous goddamn eyes, his eyes are heavy lidded with desire, his face is half covered in your slickness, glistening. “Cum on my face, let me drink you up.” His voice is deep, hoarse, and you start falling apart on his fingers, he grins, devious. “That’s it. Cum for me, pretty.”

He’s back down there, and his finger hits just so, his tongue flicking faster and faster on your aching clit, and you slam both hands on your mouth as he holds your hips up, burying his face. You fall apart, cumming so hard you can’t even see, it’s all blackness, your ears are buzzing, your body is shaking. You reach down blindly, to balance on his shoulders, and he’s drinking it up.

He’s drinking you.

Fuck.

His tongue flicks a couple more times, as more people bang on the door you rested back on, and he pulls back finally, grinning up at you, having just wrecked you completely. You can’t breathe, you can’t stand, he’d just casually given you the best orgasm of your life, and not even known you, not even known your body…

“Fuck.” You manage, and he stands then, kissing you, bending low, cupping your face with those big hands.

“See how good you taste?” He murmurs, flicking his tongue on your lips, all you can do is moan. He laughs a bit at you. “Those eyes after cumming… yep… that’s the hottest shit I’ve seen.”

“My eyes? Have you seen…”

Someone opens the door then, and you curse, yanking your skirt down, Satoru just casually leans over to look, scowling. “Excuse me, I’m busy.”

“Oh shit, sorry…” The drunken guy who’d broken in stumbles back, and then you hear him throwing up.

Satoru rolls his eyes, and then you both leave, you absentmindedly notice your panties are in the bathroom, up on the damn counter, and run embarrassingly back in to snatch them up. You run back out, trying to see where he went off to, but it’s a chaotic mess, everyone is going this way and that, and before you know it, you can’t even see him, so short compared to all of the people.

Maki comes and grabs your hand, and you follow her, searching for him, where could a tall man with white hair hide anyway?

“What’d you do, oh my god!” She turns you to her, you errantly notice everyone around you getting rowdier, there are crazy fights even breaking out. “You got freaky in the club bathroom didn’t you?”

“Oh god, Maki, shh!” Your skin is bright red now, she’s grinning like a crazy woman.

“He was hot! Get his number?”

“No and… I don’t see him, shit.” You’re trying to look around, Maki does too, but no sign of him. You all look for another five minutes, as things are getting rowdy with a couple of the club goers, fighting over some girl. You both sigh. “Dammit, I really… I think I like him, Maki, and he’s gone. Ugh.”

“It’s okay, love, you’ll run into him again.” She squeezes your hand, and your mind goes to him, to Satoru, who has brought you so much pleasure so quickly. “Ooh, look him up!”

“Is that… stalker ish? I only have his first name…”

“Nah. He seemed interested. Let’s get us home and then we’ll see if he has socials or anything, we’ll find him.”

You sit in the back of the car with Maki and Yuta, who are just making out the entire time, staring out the car window at the street lights that pass. You can’t shake the thoughts of him, of Satoru… you pick up your phone, typing his name in Facebook, nothing. Instagram, nothing. Tiktok? You doubt it, but you try… and, nothing.

Without a last name you were screwed, but there weren’t even any ‘Satoru’ profiles that you could find. Cursing internally, you lay your head back in frustration. You didn’t even tell him you liked him, you just… came on his fucking face? An arrogant, gorgeous man’s pretty face. His tongue had done things that had…

Shit.

Two months later, you found yourself sitting in the lecture hall at the beginning of law school, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation for the journey ahead. You take out your little laptop, hands sweaty and nervous, wishing Maki and Yuta were in this class with you. You were in an advanced program, having scored so high, so you were thrown in with more experienced students.

You also had a big chance at the coveted internship with the top law professor, who taught this very class. You peek at your syllabus, this is supposed to be the top young professor that everyone kept going on about, his name was Professor Gojo. You open up your laptop now, popping open the note taking app on there, when a chatter begins.

As the professor walked in, you barely looked up at first, seeing a tall, lithe body in a pinstripe suit. You look back down, turning off your phone to be safe, hearing the women in the class murmuring.

“He’s so hot!” They kept whispering, you peek around curiously, then look back up to him, seeing a shock of silvery white hair.

Your heart falters.

As he began to introduce himself, writing his name on the board, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was him - Satoru.

The man that had made you cum with his mouth.

He was your fucking law professor?

Shit.

As Satoru- or, Professor Gojo apparently, spoke, his eyes met yours, that piercing blue across the room, almost as if he was looking through you. He pauses for a moment, full lips opening then closing, before clearing his throat, putting back on a smirk and an air of arrogance.

“Professor Gojo, welcome to Criminal Law. I assume there are mostly second years. Any first semester students?” You and two others are the only ones that raise your hands. “Interesting. Your name?” He asks the girl to the right of you.

“Yuki.” She answers softly.

“And yours?” He asks the other guy to the left of her, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he saunters across the room, like he fucking owns it, commanding the attention of everyone. The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

“Ijichi.” He says.

Professor Gojo looks at you, and your pulse hammers in your throat, like it’s about to explode. You cannot breathe as his blue eyes laser focus on you, those frosty white lashes framing them, you remember him staring up at you, between your thighs, on his fucking knees.

“And you, your name?” You quietly give him your name, and he smirks at you, upturn to those devious fucking lips. You try not to wriggle under his gaze, tilting your chin up instead. “Ah. All right, so tell me why you’re here today.”

“To attend class?” The class laughs a bit, Gojo just grins, shaking his head at you.

“No, why are you here?”

“To become a lawyer.” You answer, firmer, as he walks up towards you now, stepping up the stairs of the large class and leaning on your desk with one of his long arms, big hand clutching the wood. Hands you can’t help but fucking stare at.

“Aren’t they all? But why did you choose to be?” He asks, leaning forward just a bit. You take a shaky breath, then look directly into that bright blue gaze of his, licking your lower lip, his eyes drop right to the action.

“I wanted to make a difference in people's lives. I want to give voices to those that may not have one.” You murmur, and he exhales, smirk back on, nodding.

“We all start for that, surely. Don’t we?” He asks the class, they nod, attentive to every word of his. He turns, walking back down the stairs and starting to write on the board.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a flush creeping up your neck as you think of that night, burned into your goddamn brain for months. You were the one making those sounds, those moans, as he drank you up, you remember the taste of him, the feel of his tongue on your sensitive skin.

Your fingers itch to touch yourself, to remember how good it felt, and you burn with shame and embarrassment. The amount of times you had played with yourself thinking of him was borderline pathetic, and now here he was, mysterious little shit, and unattainable.

Fuck.

“Don't worry, we'll get along just fine, I’m pretty relaxed mostly. You could say I have the ‘rizz’.” He winks, and everyone snorts in laughter, but you can’t even focus. “I was where you were just a few years back. So it’s doable to advance if you bust your ass. Understood?”

They all nod, enraptured by him. Who wouldn’t be.

“But first, a few rules before we begin. One, you will address me as Professor Gojo, or Gojo, not my first name. I am very friendly and accessible as a teacher but that’s one thing I do ask.”

Satoru. Satoru… you’d fucking cried out. Jesus.

“Two, you will be respectful of your classmates and their opinions, and hear them out, even if the opinions are shit.” They break out in laughter again. “Shit opinions can be shit on later. Let em finish the dumb thoughts first, so I can fix them.”

They’re all nodding, they women are all swooning, he commands the entire goddamn room.

“Three, there will be no cell phone use during class unless it’s something important, which you can step out for. You spend enough time on your Instagram and Snap at home, not here. Using your laptop is fine for notes, not tentacle porn hentai, heathens.”

They burst out laughing now, and even you giggle, bringing his eyes to lock upon you, drinking you in.

“Do you understand these rules, class?"

When he pauses, your gaze meets his again, and you feel like you're drowning in those blue eyes. Does he remember you even? Did he care? A man that looks like him surely has numbers in the stratosphere, and he hadn’t bothered to get your number. Had he dipped all together?

Did he even like it?

Fuck.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice amidst the chaos in your head. You manage to croak out a "Yes, Professor Gojo," with the class before looking down at your desk.

“Perfect. All right, so… Yuki, was it?” The girl nods eagerly. “Now, let's say that a student in this class was to break into my office and steal an exam. What would the possible criminal charges be?"

"Well, Professor Gojo, the student could be charged with burglary, as they entered the office without permission. Additionally, depending on the value of the exam, it could also be considered academic fraud punishable by law."

He nods. “Well said. Now… you.” He says your name, and you sit up straight, panicking, you can't help but notice the way he's looking at you. There's an intensity to his gaze that makes your heart race.

“Yes, Professor Gojo?”

He pauses, fixing you with his piercing blue eyes. "A similar scenario, but change it up. Let’s say you have invited me to your apartment, to stay the night, because I’m so charming.” He winks at the class, who are in a fit of giggles, and peers back at you. “You faint, because I was just that good looking, an understandable response.” He’s walking up to you. You raise a brow.

“I have a stronger constitution than that, Professor Gojo.” The class now gasps, some giggling at your answer. He grins, those white teeth blinding, fangs like a damn vampire showing.

“I see, impressive. But, nevertheless, you’re asleep, and you have invited me to stay the night. What if I steal an item of yours?”

The room goes silent as his words sink in. You feel your heart racing, your palms sweating. You try to gather your thoughts, but you can't help but feel unsettled by his line of questioning, of the images he’s painting in your overheated mind. Him in your damn apartment, between your…

"Well?" He prompts, leaning forward slightly. "What would you think is the appropriate course of action in such a scenario? Seeing as you have trusted me, a very handsome stranger, put yourself in the situation. With no proof."

You swallow hard, feeling a knot forming in your throat, it's as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, to make you feel vulnerable and exposed. You try to compose yourself, to remember what you know, but you can't help but feel like you're drowning in the intensity of his presence, hard to breathe even.

"In that situation, Professor Gojo, I believe that the law would still consider it theft, even if you had a personal connection to me. The item would still belong to me, and taking it without my permission would be a violation of my rights." You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. "However, I also think that the court might take into account the nature of our relationship and any possible mitigating factors, such as your intentions or remorse."

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think you see a glint of amusement in them. "An interesting answer," he says, "But remember, the law is not always concerned with intentions or mitigating factors. It is often a cold, impersonal thing, meant to uphold the greater good."

“That can be true, though without proof of having something I also think you would possibly get away with it. I haven’t itemized and taken pictures of everything in my home, so it could be hearsay.” He nods approvingly at that, grinning.

"That’s correct. Fortunately, however, I don't intend to break into your home anytime soon, so you won’t be fainting. From me at least.” The class laughs a bit at his joke, and you can feel your cheeks flush.

“You can break into my house!” Comes a shout from the back, and Gojo throws his head back in laughter, heading back down the stairs, along with the class.

“Calm down, heathens. Now listen, itemizing things or taking pictures is a good idea. So that when you invite handsome strangers you at least have something to go on. So, you all want to be lawyers, to help others, correct?”

Everyone nods.

“You could say that I was drawn to it for similar reasons to all of you.” He sits in his large office chair, tall brown leather, leaning back casually, throwing his legs up on the large desk. “Personally, I found the intricacies of the law fascinating, and I wanted to make a difference in people's lives too. Like you.” He nods to you, and you want to fall into a goddamn hole.

“But I also saw the potential for it to be used as a tool for justice, or perhaps even revenge in some cases, you can be a regular vigilante batman." His voice drops, taking on a more serious tone, intriguing you now, as did his every movement. "As your professor, my goal is to help you navigate these complexities and find your own path within the legal system. Whether that path leads you to is all up to you."

The classroom feels heavy with his words. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you yet again, and you feel as if he's not just talking about your future as a lawyer anymore. There's an intensity to this moment that you can't quite explain, and it leaves you feeling both exposed and strangely alive, every sense thrumming, including unfortunately your cunt.

Cunt he’d licked.

Fucking kill me.

When he licks his lips, you’re wrecked, how you’d focus at all today would be some sort of miracle.

The time passes quickly, and before you know it, the bell rings signifying the end of class. He is electrifying and intriguing as a teacher just as much as he was at the bar, the random dude that kissed you, that danced with you… was your first…

You gather your belongings, slowly making your way towards the exit. You feel a gentle yet insistent tap on your shoulder. You freeze, and turn around, finding yourself face-to-face with Professor Gojo, or Satoru? What would you call him in your head, and what did it matter. Your throat goes dry.

"Professor Gojo?" You say, a little taken aback, the class is filing out, leaving just the two of you in the huge lecture hall.

"Can you stay after for a moment?" He asks, and you gulp, desire shooting through you mixed with apprehension. You nod, feeling a sudden urge to run your hands through your hair or fiddle with something to steady your nerves.

“Sure.”

“Have a seat.” He says softly, going to shut the door with a click that echoes in the room, you feel like some high schooler about to get punished, but instead of worrying you the very thought thrills you far more than it should.

Stop thinking like that.

"What the fuck, Satoru?” You stand still as he comes walking back to you in long strides. You fold your arms in front of your chest, scowling up at the tall gorgeous man. “What even happened…"

"Shh." He covers your mouth with fingertip, then his thumb is tracing your bottom lip, want shoots through you hot, tummy clenching hard as he looms over you. "You're in my class now, and I need you to focus.”

“Fucking focus? On what? It’s goddamn near impossible.” You smack his hand off of you, glaring.

“I said. Have. A. Seat.” He whispers, commandingly, and for some fucking reason you listen, sitting down in his giant leather seat, as he sits up on the desk, casually crossing his stupidly long legs. “That’s better, pretty.”

“Do not even call me that.” You hiss, and he chuckles at you, rolling his eyes, shaking his head.

“Why are you mad at me when you just disappeared that night?” His thin white brows go low over his eyes, and you blink in confusion, frowning.

“Me? No, you. What six foot whatever-”

“Six-Four.”

Fuck that’s tall. “What Six-foot-four white haired dude just disappears in a crowd? Clearly you left. And if you didn’t like what we did, you could have just let me know and stopped! I-”

He’s standing in front of you now, arm on either side of you, glaring deeply into your eyes. You’re panting, he’s so fucking close… “You think I didn’t like eating your pussy?”

You’re dead silent, all the drive and determination has left you, nothing at all is there but an insane desire for it again. The memories wash over you. You manage a little nod, and he laughs at you, throwing his head back, before looking back over you, menacingly almost.

“You’re not as smart as I thought. Guess what…” He’s bent over completely, overtaking your senses. “I loved eating your little pussy. I can’t get the taste out of my goddamn mind.” You freeze, breathing in little pants, suddenly that blazer you wore to look professional feels too tight, suffocating.

“Why’d you disappear then?” You manage to choke out a whisper.

“I got a call from my friend, and I answered it for a moment when you ran into the bathroom again. I came back and looked everywhere, you were completely gone. I was going to…” He trails off, shaking his head and smirking again. “Never mind. So you thought I dipped. Aw, did it make you sad, poor little girl?” He caresses your face, you grit your teeth.

“Nope. Not at all.” You lie. He frowns, narrowing those obscenely beautiful blue eyes at you. “Just found it rude.”

“Are you sure you haven’t played with that tight cunt thinking of me?” He leans over, whispering, and you throb around goddamn nothing. You shake your heat, jaw clenched so hard it ached. He grins. “Liar.”

“Sue me.” You say with a raised brow, his grin just grows bigger.

“Smart ass little bitch.”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.”

“Don’t call your professor that.”

“Don’t look at your student like that.”

He raises a brow, eyeing your chest, where your nipples are hard against the lace of your bra. “Wear something where I can’t see those nipples perk up. Hmm, I didn’t see these, did I?” His hands brush down the side of your breasts, over your blazer, your blouse…

“And you won’t ever see them.” You shove at his chest, standing, and he grabs your wrists, tightly.

“You’d die for me too, wouldn’t you? Bet it was all you thought about as I did my lecture, me sucking on them. Poor little brat.” He yanks you against him, and you melt unwillingly.

“Nope, I sure the fuck wasn't. You act as if it was so monumental.” You roll your eyes, but you’re full of shit.

“Yeah fucking right, you’ve never cum like that, have you?” You scowl, you want to lie, but you just can’t manage it. His devious shithead grin is in full force. “I Knew it, you fell apart so easily.”

“What’s that even matter? And what do you want, Professor Dickhead.”

"You're a good student with insane test scores," he says, his voice low and serious. "But I need to make something clear. What happened between us will not interfere with your education. I won’t go any easier on you, I’ll push you just the same if not more."

“As if I’d want you to? Like I knew you’re a fucking professor. You seem like a whole idiot.”

He scowls now at you as well, you yank out of his grip, backing up until your ass is against his desk, and he’s barring you between his arms. “I didn’t know you were a fucking law student either. You don’t seem the type.” His eyes go up and down your body slowly.

“Fuck you. Professor Gojo. Respectfully.” You shove at him, feeling his hard chest under your hands, you falter.

“Fuck me, hmm? Baby girl, you can’t, you’re my student.”

“I’m sure the fuck not your ‘baby girl’. Who even eats out some random girl at a club anyway!”

He raises a brow, looking up and down your body, undressing you with his stupidly pretty gaze. “Who gets eaten out by a random guy at the club?”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, he doesn’t budge, your eyes lock onto his and you suppress every base instinct to just kiss his glossy lips. “Fuck you.”

“You like to proposition me. How inappropriate, Miss Brat.”

“I have a name!”

“Miss Brat works better. Fits you more.”

“Professor Dickhead fits you!” He laughs at that, and shakes his head, caressing your face gently, and you freeze. He grows serious.

“I won’t push shit on you. I’m not trying to lose my job, or fuck up your law career, so you don’t really have to worry.” He bends low, a breath away from your lips now, and you tremble, eyes zooming in on them, remembering their taste. “Question is, can you focus when you’re dripping wet looking at me?”

“Oh you conceited fucking dick!” You haul off and smack him then, he grins, deviously, like he enjoyed it, a little red mark on his perfect face.

“Maybe play with your pussy before you come into class, get it all out of your system so you can focus.”

“I can’t fucking stand you! I can’t believe I even… that I…” You feel emotion catch in your throat, blinking it back rapidly, wanting to sob, as you thought you’d felt something, that you liked him.

He pouts a bit, watching you intently, tilting his head and brushing your hair back gently with his fingers. You hate how much you like it. He studies you carefully with those baby blues that you’d dreamt of, a serious look to his handsome face, a jawline you wanted to caress and punch simultaneously.

“That you what?” He whispers, and you shake your head.

“Nothing. I need to get to my next class. Please, move. I promise I won’t be pining away from you or some shit.” He clears his throat, easing back, hands in his pockets again.

“Good, that would be bad for both of us.” He mused, acting so casual, so nonchalant that it infuriated you.

“I imagine shit like that is common for you, right?”

“Eating out stupidly hot girls?” You shrug at that, refusing to acknowledge how that made you feel.. “It’s a favorite pastime of mine.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” You turn, grabbing your books, ass pressing against his hard body, and it makes you throb, thinking of that dance with him.

Something far too big and hard is against your ass, making you both tense. You bend over, feeling like torturing this asshole back just a bit, before standing back up, slowly turning and looking up at him. You smile a bit when you see his flustered look, breaking down the usual cockiness you have seen from him.

“Cat got your tongue, Professor?” You whisper, hugging the books to your chest tightly, he exhales, opening his mouth, and the bell rings again.

“Fuck.” He whispers, backing up just a moment and running his hand through his silky white hair.

“See you in class next week.” You say, and he pauses you again, making you scowl this time. “What are you playing at?”

“I didn’t disappear. I wanted your number or… something.” He mumbles, and you blink in surprise, your heart fluttering. “None of that matters now, anyway, we can’t… do anything. So.”

“Nope, we can’t.” You turn, walking, hearing him sigh.

“Whose class do you have, Miss Brat?” He asks, haughty, you glare at him over your shoulder. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s making things hard.”

“Don’t call me that, Professor Dickhead.” He snorts, you peek down at your schedule then. “It’s Contracts with Professor Nanami. Then after that, Torts with Professor Geto.”

“Fuck you’ve even got my best friends as your other teachers.”

“I really need to go. Just… forget it happened I guess?” Your heart aches as you say it, but what choice do you have? He frowns.

“That’s not happening and you know it. Just get a good vibrator and think of me, it should work. I could give you my business cards to get off to? My picture is pretty.” You flip him off, ignoring his laughter as you walk out of the room.

You struggle to breathe, leaning back against the cold wall of the hallway, wishing it would soothe your overheating skin. The man that you’d been thinking of for two months straight was your goddamn professor, not just that, he was the one that had the top internship opportunity.. You can still taste his lips on yours, taste yourself as he had kissed you…

It only makes it worse.

You walk quickly across campus until you get into Contracts, your cheeks burning from the memory of his hardness against you, and the anger from the way he acted, so fucking conceited, so immature. How the fuck was he the best lawyer for his age? You’d heard so much about him and never knew it was him…

Professor Nanami was ridiculously tall and handsome as well, dirty blonde hair and a tan suit over his buff body. You wonder just what the fuck this school is thinking, hiring all these models as professors, but he had no effect on you like he did the rest of the class. Luckily, he seemed humble, serious, more like what you would expect, but of course…

Your mind was wrapped around Professor Dickhead.

Just what would this semester be like?

And why do you ache so goddamn bad.

Forget him… forget it…

How?

You’re screwed.

Chapter 2

Also on a03 - Ch 1 https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/144669811

[poetic-vulgarity]

ʍoN ǝW ɹɐǝH - Karina x Reader

Word count: 5K

Prompt: Ever since they were trainees, Y/N knew just what buttons to push to frustrate Jimin.

Maybe she took things a bit too far when she decided to cheat on her.

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Cheating, Part I, Part 2

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Y/N always had a way of getting on Yu Jimin's last nerve.

It happened from the moment they first met. Jimin was on her way to class at SM, suffocating as she ran up the stairs at an almost inhuman pace.

She was late. She was late for Mrs. Lóu's class. She was practically a dead girl walking.

She would've been on time if she'd been allowed to use the elevator. But she wasn't an idol or staff member, so up the stairs she went. Equality and equity, everyone.

As she turned a corner and continued her race, she felt herself collide with someone, falling forward.

It didn't hurt, mostly because her impact was softened by the body she fell on top of. The groan that rang close to her ear told her the person she'd collided with hadn't been as lucky.

Y/N let out an exaggerated groan as Jimin scrambled to her feet, flustered. Propping herself up on her elbows, Y/N raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Maybe next time you could scream 'incoming' or something? I'll consider wearing armor to the stairwell just in case."

Jimin's eyes widened as she recognized the trainee in front of her. Y/N was well-known around the company as one of the strongest runner-ups for SM's next girl group.

She had the talent and the personality. Every teacher adored her. She had several friend groups and the face of someone who had been blessed by the gods themselves. Jimin had a few classes with her, but they'd never interacted. Still, something about the bright glint in Y/N's eyes told Jimin the famous trainee knew who she was.

"Sorry," Jimin gulped and moved to step around her—she was incredibly late—when a hand reached out and held her own.

"Won't even help me up, Jimin-ah?"

So she did know her. 

Jimin hesitated for a moment before bending and offering Y/N a hand up. Just as she was about to step around her again, that same hand found her arm and stopped her.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked.

She had the same class as Jimin right now. Why was she so calm—

Jimin stopped herself.

She knew why Y/N wasn't rushing.

"Yeah," Jimin replied quickly after a few seconds. "Just late." She gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying not to appear irritated.

Y/N's hand was still on her arm. Soft, smooth. Very pretty hands, but Jimin wished she'd let go.

"Oh!" A smile grew on Y/N's face as realization took over. "You also have Mrs. Lóu's class right now, don't you? We could walk together!"

Jimin nodded silently as Y/N pulled her along.

She wanted to yank her hand away and tell her to stop holding it. But she didn't want to be rude, especially to a fellow trainee in her company.

And of course, just as expected, when both girls walked inside the dance studio and Mrs. Lóu turned to them, her dark eyes landed on Jimin.

"Miss Yu, you're late."

Jimin's mouth fell open. Y/N was right there beside her!

"You think the world just revolves around you, don't you? That you're free to do as you wish, leaving everyone waiting for you like our time isn't valuable."

Mrs. Lóu went on, and Y/N turned to Jimin with a sheepish smile, muttering a small "Good luck" before joining her friends.

Jimin felt her face burn as Mrs. Lóu continued to lecture her about lateness. About how she was setting a bad example and ruining her team.

She glanced at Y/N once in a while, trying to keep the glare off her face. But she was sure most people in the room could feel the anger and annoyance radiating off her. She didn't know how to feel about the fact that she couldn't blame Y/N for it. All the teachers loved her and found her very respectful. It just made her more irritating.

Jimin had always noticed the favoritism, but it was at that moment that she really felt it. And she despised Y/N a little for it.

That was just the beginning, though.

Because, from that moment, Y/N kept showing up in her life.

Being annoyingly perfect at pushing Jimin's buttons.

Jimin didn't know how it was possible for one person to irritate her so much.

Everywhere she went, she somehow found Y/N there. In the break room, in the dance studio, in the practice room, eating lunch, walking through the hallways, on the bus back home. No matter where it was, orwhat she was doing.

There was always Y/N. And eventually, Jimin lost her patience and started leaving her polite act behind.

"Here." Y/N approached Jimin one day and handed her a cup of hot chocolate.

"What?" Jimin looked at the cup. "What is that?"

"It's hot chocolate."

Jimin scowled. "I know that, I'm not stupid." She looked up at Y/N and blinked. "It's just... why are you giving me this?"

"'Cause it's cold," Y/N shrugged, sitting down on the floor beside Jimin. The two were waiting for their turn to record a demo. Everyone was getting a private session with their teacher, and the two just happened to be the last ones in line.

"It's not that cold," Jimin muttered stubbornly.

Y/N didn't reply, only sat there with a gentle smile. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as she rested her head on top of them.

It was silent for a few minutes before Jimin couldn't take it anymore.

She took a sip of the hot chocolate and immediately spat the beverage out, blowing out a gasp.

"Shit!"

Y/N jumped in surprise, looking at Jimin with wide eyes. "What? What?"

"Why's it so damn hot?" Jimin said, her tongue sticking out. She grabbed a napkin, wiping her tongue off. "You gave me scorching hot chocolate."

Y/N frowned. "Well, it's cold. I figured it would warm you up."

Jimin shot her an incredulous look, waving a hand in front of her mouth as if it could somehow cool the burn. "Warm me up, not melt my face off!" she snapped, glaring at the cup like it had personally betrayed her.

Y/N blinked at her, then burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. "Okay, okay, my bad," she said between chuckles. "I didn't know you'd chug it like it was iced coffee!"

Jimin glared at her, feeling her irritation spike. "Who just hands someone a boiling drink without a warning?" she muttered, crossing her arms as the sting on her tongue lingered.

Still grinning, Y/N leaned back on her hands. "Guess I'll have to add temperature warnings to my repertoire of good deeds." She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But hey, at least you're not cold anymore, right?"

Jimin opened her mouth to retort but stopped, realizing how ridiculous she'd sound. Instead, she just groaned and placed the cup on the ground. "I don't like you."

Y/N's laughter had Jimin's temper rising. She was practically burning with fury. She turned towards Y/N again, ready to retort.

But of course, that damn smile stopped her. It made her hesitate, made her heart slow down in anger and skip in... something she couldn't name.

It was a smile that could charm anyone. But it also drove Jimin a little crazy. She hated it. She hated the way her heart sped up when the smile was directed at her.

"Wait a little and it'll cool down." Y/N smiled, deciding she had annoyed Jimin enough for the day. "You have a good practice, Jimin."

She stood up to leave, but Jimin stopped her. "Don't you have the demo recording as well?"

Y/N shook her head. "I was the first one to do it today."

Jimin frowned. Y/N had been sitting with her for a few hours now. Why the hell would she stay here when she had already recorded?

"Then why did you sit out here with me?" Jimin asked, her frown deepening.

Y/N froze for a moment before grinning and waving off the question. "We were both a little lonely."

"I would've been fine on my own," Jimin grumbled.

Y/N grimaced playfully at her and finally walked away.

It helped that Jimin was quickly called inside the studio that night.

And it helped that, the next time Y/N approached, Jimin was accompanied by a few of her friends.

"Hi." Y/N smiled, nodding at everyone before her eyes fell on Jimin. She felt surprisingly shy about approaching the taller girl. It was one thing to do it when she was alone, but a whole other thing when Jimin was sitting with her group at the cafeteria. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to the movies with me tonight."

Jimin almost choked on her drink.

Movies? Why would she go to the movies with Y/N? Did she want to torture her?

Jimin stared at Y/N. She just stared, for a few long minutes.

And then a little chuckle sounded from beside her.

"Our Jimin is being asked on a date, oh my God!" Chaeyun clapped excitedly.

"Come on, Jimin, maybe her teacher's pet privileges will rub off on you!" another friend joined in.

Jimin rolled her eyes.

Was this Y/N's point all along? To embarrass her in front of her friends?

"Run along, Y/N."

Y/N tried to chuckle. "Are you sure? 'Cause there's this new movie—"

"I said run along, Y/N," Jimin snapped harshly. She didn't mean to sound rude, not really. But the way her friends were teasing her was humiliating.

Why did Y/N choose today of all days to make things even more difficult?

Y/N's smile faltered for a brief moment as she turned and walked away, the rejection stinging more than she expected. She wasn't used to people snapping at her like that, especially not Jimin. But she still couldn't bring herself to regret asking.

For a little while, Jimin didn't see a whole lot of Y/N. They still had classes together, sure, but it was different. The small interactions they'd have from time to time came to a complete halt.

Jimin hated that she noticed this shift, but she did.

She told herself it didn't matter. She told herself she didn't care.

She had enough on her plate as it was.

She had been recruited mostly for her looks, so she always felt behind on everything. The other trainees dripped with talent, and she felt like she was running an endless marathon to keep up with them.

It didn't matter that people complimented her singing or dancing.

But it mattered that people criticized her.

Heavy breaths escaped her mouth, and her chest heaved up and down as she fell to her knees.

Mrs. Lóu had chastised her again. She hadn't even been late to class; her dancing just sucked, apparently. So, Jimin decided to stay behind at the company that night. She had a lot of fixing to do.

"You're going to burn out if you keep going at this rate." The familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find Y/N leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Jimin wiped off the sweat on her forehead, frowning.

Every time she tried to keep her mind busy, focus on something else, Y/N would find her.

"What are you doing here?" Jimin said quietly. She was exhausted. Tired of the teachers, of other trainees, of practicing until she felt like her legs would give out, of Y/N.

"It was my birthday, you know?" Y/N kicked the ground, staring down at her shoes.

"What?" Jimin frowned, feeling nothing but confusion.

"My birthday... it was on the day that I asked you out to the movies," Y/N clarified.

"What, did you want me to wish you happy birthday or something? Is that why you're here?" Jimin snapped back, her irritation spiking again.

She didn't care about Y/N's birthday. They weren't friends. She had enough going on already.

"No," Y/N let out quietly, her pride somewhat hurt. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. Just trying to make you stop for a little while."

"Why would you do that?" Jimin almost yelled, her exhaustion and stress causing her to act irrationally. "I have to work. How do you expect me to debut if I don't train? Not everyone can be the teacher's pet like you."

Y/N nodded, watching as Jimin walked to her phone to restart the song. She knew she should walk away and never talk to Jimin again, but she also knew that if she did, the other girl would probably spend the entire night at the studio.

"It was actually my first birthday without my mother," Y/N said softly, her hands slipping into her pockets.

Jimin sighed, her heart faltering at the confession. She hated how Y/N's big, sad eyes always made her feel so guilty. Jimin knew what it was like to be away from home, away from family on a birthday.

It was a terrible feeling.

But she shook her head, forcing the sympathy away as she turned back toward the practice room.

"She passed away earlier this year."

Jimin stopped in the middle of the hallway, all the anger draining out of her in an instant.

Her heart ached, and her hands trembled as she turned to look back at Y/N.

For once, the younger girl looked completely honest—no teasing or playfulness behind her eyes. "I'm not trying to guilt-trip you or anything," Y/N said after a gulp. "I just... annoying you has been one of the few things that make me happy these days. So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go vegetative."

Jimin wanted to say something to comfort Y/N, but she didn't know how. It would be awkward. It wouldn't feel right.

She wasn't close with Y/N. They barely knew each other.

So instead, she took a deep breath to compose herself.

"I'll... go home," Jimin managed to say after a few painfully long moments.

Y/N nodded, her familiar, gentle smile finally returning. "I appreciate that."

She turned to leave, trusting Jimin to keep her word. "Take care of yourself, Jimin-ah."

Jimin watched as the younger girl walked away, her heart still pounding in her chest. She couldn't put a finger on what this feeling was, but it was almost painful.

The guilt and frustration for snapping at Y/N, the sympathy for her loss, the sadness, the anxiety, the ache in her chest—everything.

Jimin didn't know how to deal with it all. She really wished Y/N hadn't told her about her mother.

She really wished things could go back to how they were—that she could go back to pretending to hate Y/N.

The truth was, she didn't really.

As the weeks went by, Jimin found herself almost watching over the younger girl.

Y/N was popular around SM. She had several groups of friends and plenty of people practically begging for her attention.

But to Jimin, she still seemed lonely. She didn't know why, but Y/N's smile always looked fake when she was with other people. It wasn't as gentle or soft as the ones she gave her.

"Why do you always take the stairs?"

Y/N jumped at the voice, turning to see Jimin leaning casually against the staircase railing.

"What?"

Jimin shrugged. "Mrs. Lóu gave you the key card to use the elevator so you could grab the books she wanted. Why do you still insist on taking the stairs?"

Y/N blinked at Jimin, her jaw dropping in surprise. She wasn't used to Jimin initiating conversations, much less noticing things about her.

"I... feel claustrophobic in tight spaces. It's a whole thing," Y/N stammered, scratching the back of her head awkwardly.

Jimin nodded in understanding, though she didn't miss the way Y/N's ears turned red.

"Right." She cleared her throat, hating how awkward she sounded. "You haven't been as talkative lately. You used to pester me every day."

"Is it bad that I'm not bothering you anymore?" Y/N teased, smiling warmly.

Jimin rolled her eyes, suppressing the smile tugging at her lips.

Why did Y/N have to be so teasing and charming?

Jimin wasn't used to people like her. Everyone else she knew was so serious about training, always laser-focused on debuting.

But Y/N was different. She was bubbly and kind and annoying, and Jimin couldn't stop her heart from racing when Y/N looked at her with those pretty eyes. Maybe that's why everyone else seemed to like Y/N. 

"Don't push it," Jimin said, rolling her eyes as she started making her way down the stairs. "Let's go out for coffee. Come on."

Y/N raised her eyebrows.

Was Jimin voluntarily spending time with her?

What was this? Some sort of fever dream?

Shaking her head, Y/N quickly followed Jimin down the stairs.

"You're not about to murder me, right?" Y/N joked, nudging Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin snorted. "Not today, at least."

She tried to ignore the way her heart skipped at Y/N's playful joke. Or the way the younger girl casually touched her shoulder, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jimin had never had many friends at SM. And even the ones she did have were always competitors first and friends second.

Y/N was different.

Jimin was starting to not mind Y/N as much.

Their coffee dates became more frequent, and the two started spending more time together at SM as well. There were late-night practices, countless sleepovers, and they even began getting to know each other's friends.

One of those friends was Minjeong, a rather shy girl with the voice of an angel.

Minjeong was one of Y/N's closest friends—one of the few people she felt she could truly trust at SM. Introducing her to Jimin felt like sharing a precious little secret.

It ultimately paid off.

"Seriously, what did you do to make Miss Lóu like you so much?"

Y/N rolled her eyes softly and buried her head in her pillow—which happened to be Jimin's shoulder at the moment.

Jimin's roommate had left for the night, so the three took the opportunity to have a sleepover. The bunk bed was tiny, but somehow, they'd managed to squeeze themselves in.

Of course, Jimin had to bring Miss Lóu up.

"Come on." Jimin gently tilted her shoulder, nudging Y/N in the process. "Tell us your secrets."

"I didn't do anything," Y/N groaned, hiding her face deeper in Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin rolled her eyes but didn't comment on the way Y/N's breath tickled her neck or how she could feel the younger girl's steady heartbeat.

If her hands were free, she might have even wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist.

Instead, she kept busy playing with Y/N's hair.

"Why does she like you so much, then?"

"Probably because of my stunning personality," Y/N teased back.

Jimin rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. She hated admitting how much she enjoyed spending time with Y/N.

"I thought it was because you ran errands for her," Jimin said playfully, her eyes glinting with mirth.

She wanted to pull Y/N closer, to smell that familiar vanilla scent again. Instead, she pushed the feeling down and focused on keeping her other hand around Minjeong, who was already asleep. Jimin envied how calm and peaceful the smaller girl seemed to be.

"That too, I suppose," Y/N hummed softly as if in deep thought before poking Jimin's stomach.

Jimin swatted Y/N's hand away with a scowl, trying not to let it show how much the younger girl's touch affected her. She tried so hard to act cool and disinterested, but her heart always betrayed her in the end.

"Stop it," Jimin whispered, half-heartedly pushing Y/N's hand away again. "You always have to bother me!"

"You're very easy to bother," Y/N chuckled, continuing to poke at Jimin.

"Y/N, I can literally throw you off the bed right now." Jimin's glare lacked any real heat.

She tried to stop the smile threatening to break out. She wanted to act mad, but everything Y/N did made her want to laugh and smile.

"You wouldn't."

Well, it wasn't her intention, but when another finger jabbed her side, Jimin let out a loud shriek and instinctively shoved Y/N away.

The younger girl went tumbling off the small bed, landing on the floor with an ungraceful thud.

Jimin couldn't help but snort in laughter as Y/N groaned in pain, sitting up with a scowl.

Minjeong, now awake, didn't look amused at being woken up in the middle of the night. "You guys suck," she muttered, burying her face back into the pillow.

Y/N groaned and flopped onto her back on the floor. "We should go out for ice cream."

"It's almost two in the morning, Y/N," Jimin said, rolling her eyes as she swung her legs off the bed and walked over to help her up. "I don't think they sell ice cream now."

"There's a convenience store down the block," Y/N said brightly, looking up at Jimin with hopeful eyes. "We should go."

"It's cold outside," Jimin protested weakly.

Even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. She already knew that, in a few minutes, she'd be outside walking to the convenience store with a hyper Y/N anyway.

And she was almost 100% correct.

The only thing she hadn't accounted for was Minjeong being dragged outside too, bundled up and grumbling as Y/N practically skipped ahead of them. The numbers added up perfectly.

And it didn't matter how grumpy they both wanted to be. Sneaking out was always thrilling, and the fresh night air was welcoming and exciting. By the time the three girls walked inside the small corner store, giggles were escaping their mouths again.

It made them forget all their responsibilities for the night.

For once, they were normal teenagers, going out with their friends to get ice cream in the middle of the night. They were normal girls, with normal, fun lives.

Jimin wished she could stay like this forever.

Though as they walked into the small store, she almost felt tempted to take hold of Y/N's hand as the younger girl dragged them towards the freezer.

It didn't happen that particular night, especially because Jimin felt shy with Minjeong close by. But it happened a few weeks after that night, when it was just Y/N and her.

Instead of being ice cream, they went for soju.

"It's almost your birthday, Jimin-ah. We need to celebrate."

It didn't matter how many times Jimin chastised her for not addressing her in the proper formality tones. It didn't matter how many times she tried to protest the decision.

The two soon found themselves lying on the floor of Jimin's bedroom. Speeches slurred and unshakable smiles on their faces.

"I don't know, honestly. I thought this friend group would be different, you know?" Y/N confessed quietly, eyes drawn to the ceiling. "The others were fine, but I knew everyone was fake. With this friend group, I genuinely thought that there would be no drama. No talking behind someone's back."

Jimin let out a small snort and pushed herself up so she was sitting. "It's always the same thing," she muttered, grabbing the bottle of soju from the nightstand and taking a swig.

She turned her attention back to Y/N, who looked almost angelic with her wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Jimin couldn't have guessed if it was the alcohol going to her head or the moonlight casting a glow to Y/N's face, but the younger girl looked breathtaking tonight.

"No, I know," Y/N sighed, eyebrows drawn to a frown as she turned to Jimin. "But things seemed different this time."

Y/N felt ridiculous in more ways than one. She got along with many people at SM, but she always knew people mostly used her to get higher rankings and to gather more contacts. This time, she genuinely believed her friends weren't like that. Earlier that day, she walked in on them talking about her behind her back.

"I'm such an idiot." She covered her eyes with her arms.

Jimin reached out and gently turned Y/N's face to look at her instead. Jimin's fingers lingered on the younger girl's skin for a moment, feeling the warmth on her cheeks.

The alcohol made Jimin bold. She brushed her thumb against Y/N's cheek just to see what it felt like.

She ignored how her heart pounded against her chest.

"They were the assholes, not you. If anyone should be feeling like that, it's them."

Y/N gulped, eyes fixed on Jimin's. She trusted the older girl with her life, which was honestly scary. Most people in her life found a way of leaving, and it was one thing for her friends around the company to do so, it was another thing if Jimin did it.

"Would you ever do the same?"

Jimin swallowed, her heart thundering in her chest for a very different reason now. She didn't know what to say.

Y/N was so close and warm. It was intoxicating. Jimin couldn't concentrate with her heart pounding like that. With her stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

Her thumb was still brushing against Y/N's cheek, so she focused on that instead. At least until her brain found a way to think of words.

"No," Jimin murmured, almost breathless. "Never. Would you?" She asked back, a small smile growing on her face.

Y/N didn't hesitate to shake her head, eyes full of honesty. She acted as if it was her life mission to never betray Jimin. "I would never. It was hard enough getting you to actually like me."

Jimin's chuckle came out a little forced, almost breathless and shaky. She couldn't focus with the way Y/N's dark eyes seemed to pierce right through her and straight to her heart.

Jimin's tongue suddenly felt dry and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. The soju was definitely going to her head tonight.

"I do... I do like you," she said back, her thumb still moving from side to side. It was almost addictive the way Y/N's skin felt beneath her fingers.

"I like you a lot," Jimin murmured, moving her hand to cup Y/N's cheek properly. She ran her thumb across the other girl's warm skin. Y/N's eyes fluttered a little, and the sight made a pleasant warmth spread across Jimin's body.

She wondered briefly if Y/N felt the same thing. If her heart was also racing. If her stomach was clenched tightly, or her body felt like it was burning with every passing second the two of them spent so close to one another.

All it'd take was a small move and she could taste Y/N's lips.

For just a second, she let herself give in to the intoxicating feeling.

Their noses brushed each other before their lips met.

It must've been only for a moment or two, but for Jimin, time seemed to stand still.

Her stomach dropped. Her heart slammed against her chest, and all she could feel and smell was Y/N. It was intoxicating, and she desperately wanted more.

Then, Jimin pulled back like she was burned, eyes wide in horror as she looked at Y/N.

"I- uh- I-"

She had been prepared for a lot of things. Embarrassment, being yelled at, possibly getting thrown off the building.

She had not been prepared for Y/N to smile so softly. So tenderly. Like Jimin had just made her the happiest person on earth.

Her heart ached in her chest, and Jimin found herself leaning down to capture Y/N's lips with her own again. The kiss was gentle. Hesitant. As if she was afraid of startling the other girl.

And then it grew warmer and quicker, more desperate.

Jimin felt like she was floating. Y/N tasted so sweet, and her body felt so warm and soft. She was intoxicating. Jimin wanted more.

She moved on top of Y/N, her heart jumping to her throat as their stomachs brushed together. Her hands found their way to Y/N's hips, holding onto the other girl for dear life.

The two stayed there for hours on end. Enjoying the night. Enjoying each other.

No responsibilities or fake friends.

Just the two of them.

Only a week after that, after going on more dates than classes, the two were officially dating.

And things went well. They stuck by each other's sides while the world tilted around them. They debuted, along with Minjeong and two other trainees—Yizhou and Aeri. And they faced the rough world of Kpop together.

Jimin, or Karina, as the leader of Aespa.

Y/N as the center.

It didn't matter how much stress or pressure they were under. Things didn't change between the two of them. They were still just Jimin and Y/N. Only much closer than before. Only much more desperate for each other's love and company.

They loved each other. Desperately. There was nothing that could pull them apart. Not fame, not their schedules, not even the rest of the members who teased them about their relationship like they were annoying parents.

"Ugh, look at them," Aeri started, making both Jimin and Y/N turn to see them already looking at them, grins on their faces.

"Agh," Minjeong groaned, wrinkling her nose. "Why are you guys like that?"

Jimin raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly to look at Minjeong with amusement. "Like what? In love?" She asked, her gaze briefly traveling to Y/N before returning to the two girls in front of her.

Ning pretended to gag, and Y/N threw a pillow at her. "Dumbass."

Jimin wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist and pulled her a little closer, laughing softly at the interaction.

It was the end of the year, and to celebrate the end of 2023 and the arrival of 2024, Aespa chose to be a part of a big award show. Well, they were forced, but potatoes, potatoes.

Jimin couldn't help but let out another laugh when Y/N threw a pillow at Aeri next. She held Y/N tight as she watched the two girls bicker among each other. Her gaze shifted to Minjeong, who was giving her the most annoying, knowing grin, but Karina just rolled her eyes playfully.

They ended up winning Best Artist at the end of the night. It left Karina smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, and she had a feeling it wasn't just because of the win.

She was standing on stage with her best friends and her beautiful girlfriend, with adoring fans applauding her.

She was on top of the world.

Though it all got quickly swiped from under her feet.

Y/N excused herself for a moment to go to the restroom and didn't come back.

Karina didn't think much of it. It happened.

Sometimes when things got too much, Y/N needed to be on her own for a little bit.

So, she waited. She smiled and waved as fans snapped pictures and her members chatted around her.

Then she waited some more. Then even more.

Y/N didn't come back.

Jimin's smile grew smaller, her heart dropping into her stomach. She tried not to think about the worst-case scenarios. Maybe the line was just too long for the restroom, and Y/N was waiting for her turn.

Eventually, she got so worried she decided to go look for her girlfriend herself.

The bathroom was practically empty, since most idols were sitting on stage—watching the show. Aespa's waiting room only had a few staff members mingling around. And Jimin had no other idea of where to look, so she ended up just walking around, her eyebrows furrowed in worry as she looked for her girlfriend.

She found her after a good ten minutes of looking, tucked away in a private hallway of the backstage area.

Y/N was leaning against a wall, hands pressed against another idol's abdomen as she kissed him.

She was kissing him.

He had her pressed against the wall.

And they were kissing.

Karina felt like she was going to throw up.

It felt like the air was punched out of her as she stood there in shock, staring at the two.

No. No.

Y/N wouldn't do that.

She wouldn't.

She never...

Karina swallowed hard, her heart sinking into her stomach. She stumbled back from the hallway, trying to get away.

By the time Y/N turned her eyes and saw the familiar figure of her girlfriend running away, it was too late.

"JIMIN!"

[winwintea]

stolen dance

PAIRING ↬ idol!park jisung x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ romance, fluff, they dance a bit, there is totally no angst, i would never lie!

SUMMARY ↬ jisung has been teaching you how to dance lately. but is it really to teach you or is jisung using these dances as a form of escapism to hold onto a deeper secret?

WORD COUNT ↬ 2.8k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ in classic winwintea fashion here is jisung's birthday fic <33 suffer.

PLAYLIST ↬ stolen dance - milky chance; show me the meaning of being lonely - backstreet boys

“Alright, alright, one more time!”

Jisung grins, as he claps his hands and beckons you to step back into the middle of the room.

The living room is bathed in the soft amber glow of a single lamp in the corner, casting warm shadows across the room. The faint hum of a speaker plays an upbeat pop track, its rhythm pulsing like a heartbeat through the air. A pile of mismatched socks and sneakers sits abandoned by the couch, proof of your long evening spent dancing. You groan dramatically, flopping onto the couch instead. “I can’t feel my legs anymore, Jisung. This is basically torture.”

“Nope, no quitting!” he says, darting over and tugging you up by the wrists. His hands are warm, steady, and they pull you effortlessly to your feet. “We’re not done until you can at least try to keep up with me.”

You roll your eyes but smile, letting him guide you into position. “I’m only doing this because you’re making me, you know.”

Jisung smirks. “And because you secretly love it. Admit it, you want to keep up with me on stage one day.”

“Oh, sure,” you laugh, stumbling a little as he begins to guide you through a spin. “Me, a world-class dancer. We’re talking about K-pop standards too. Totally believable.”

“Hey, don’t doubt yourself like that!” Jisung says, catching your hand to stop your wobble. “Besides, I’m a great teacher. You’ll be better than me in no time.”

“Better than you? Let’s not get carried away.”

He steps back, giving you a playful once-over. “Okay, fine, maybe not better. But decent. Maybe passable.”

You swat at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

The music shifts to a softer beat, and Jisung takes a step closer. “Alright, let’s try that one move again. Step left, then cross. No, your other left—”

You fumble the step, tripping slightly, and Jisung reaches out just in time to steady you. His arm loops around your waist, holding you close for a moment.

“Gotcha,” he says softly, his voice losing its teasing edge for a second.

You look up at him, breathless but grinning. “You know, for someone who claims to be a great teacher, you’re not very patient.”

His lips twitch into a smile. “And for someone who says they hate dancing, you’re not as bad as you think.”

The room feels still for a beat, the music fading into the background. Jisung’s dark eyes linger on yours, something unspoken passing between you. It’s the kind of gaze that makes your heart skip, though you can’t quite place why.

“Anyway!” Jisung suddenly blurts, breaking the moment as he steps back with a sheepish grin. “Let’s try again. I’ll slow it down this time, I promise.”

“Good. My feet are already filing a complaint,” you joke, shaking off the strange flutter in your chest.

He grins, taking your hands in his again, and the music picks up once more. The two of you fall into the rhythm, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing so loudly that it drowns out the sound of the song.

The days start to blur together, each evening spent in the same corner of the living room. The small space becomes your personal dance studio, the furniture pushed against the walls to give you just enough room to practice. Jisung shows up every time with the same excitement, the kind that’s so contagious you can’t help but play along.

“Step, step, and pivot—yes! That’s it!” Jisung exclaims, clapping his hands together as you nail the move for the first time. His grin lights up the room.

You beam, sweat dripping down your face, and collapse onto the floor. “Finally! That only took, what, twenty tries?”

Jisung flops down next to you, still full of energy. “More like thirty, but hey, who’s counting?” He nudges you with his shoulder, handing you a water bottle.

You take a long sip and gasp dramatically. “I didn’t sign up for this boot camp, you know. What happened to ‘just a fun dance session’?”

Jisung leans back on his hands, smirking. “This is fun! Besides, you’re getting so much better. Look at you, two weeks ago, you couldn’t even figure out which foot was your left.”

“Wow, thanks,” you deadpan, though your smile betrays your mock annoyance.

The next night, the routine continues. The two of you move in near-perfect sync as Jisung teaches you a new routine to a faster song. Your steps are cleaner, your turns sharper, and when you finish the sequence without a single mistake, you both cheer so loudly the neighbor downstairs bangs on their ceiling.

“Oops,” you whisper, covering your mouth to stifle your giggles.

Jisung shrugs, unbothered. “Worth it. You nailed that!” He holds up a hand for a high-five, which you give him, laughing at how proud he looks.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice how your progress isn’t the only thing changing.

One evening, as you struggle through a particularly tricky move, Jisung stops mid-step. His gaze drifts off toward the window, his body going still.

“Jisung?” you call, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Jisung?”

He blinks, shaking his head quickly. “Sorry, what? Did you say something?”

You frown. “You spaced out. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says with a too-bright smile, waving you off. “Just tired, I guess.” He grabs the remote and cranks up the music. “Come on, let’s run it again.”

You hesitate but decide not to press him.

Later, after another exhausting session, you collapse on the couch, panting. “I’m done. For real this time. My legs are basically jelly.”

Jisung sits beside you, his gaze soft as he watches you. “You’re really doing great, you know.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you joke, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he says, his tone quieter now. “I just... I like seeing you like this. Happy. Laughing.”

You glance over at him, and for a moment, he looks... sad, though the expression vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared.

“You okay?” you ask cautiously.

“Of course,” he says, forcing a grin. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re stuck with me, remember?”

“Lucky me,” you tease, but his words stick with you as the night goes on.

The dance sessions grow more frequent, his enthusiasm almost desperate. Every moment feels heavier, though you can’t quite figure out why. You catch him watching you sometimes, his smile softer, as though he’s trying to memorize the way you move, the sound of your laugh.

“What?” you ask one night when his eyes linger too long.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, spinning you around before you can press further. “Just... don’t stop dancing, okay?”

You laugh, brushing it off, but there’s something in his voice that makes you wonder what he’s not telling you.

The music echoes softly through the living room as you and Jisung move together, your steps slightly out of sync but improving with each pass. The rhythm feels effortless now, the usual fumbling replaced by a newfound fluidity. You’re laughing, breathless but exhilarated, when the sharp buzz of Jisung’s phone cuts through the song.

It vibrates insistently on the counter, the screen lighting up in the dim room.

“Hold on,” Jisung mutters, his usual smile faltering as he jogs over to check it. He picks up the phone and stares at the screen, his expression shifting to something unreadable.

You wipe your forehead with the hem of your shirt, catching your breath. “What is it?” you ask, noticing the way he hesitates.

Jisung’s thumb hovers over the screen, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, in a voice that’s a little too casual, he says, “It’s nothing. Just a friend checking in.”

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Must be a pretty intense message to make you zone out like that.”

He glances at you quickly, forcing a small smile. “It’s not important. I’ll deal with it later. Come on, let’s not lose our momentum.” He sets the phone back down, face down this time, and crosses the room toward you.

Before you can say anything, he reaches for your hands and pulls you into a hug. It’s sudden, uncharacteristic, and tight. Tighter than his usual playful embraces. You blink, caught off guard.

“Uh, Jisung? You good?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he buries his face against your shoulder, his grip unyielding. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost fragile. “I’m just... really proud of you, you know? You’ve worked so hard.”

The hug lasts longer than it should, and something in his tone feels off. You try to pull back slightly to look at him, but he only holds on tighter.

“Jisung, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head against your shoulder and releases you just as abruptly as he hugged you. “Nothing. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” His smile is back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now, come on. Let’s run through it again. You were so close to getting it perfect!”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you press, still watching him carefully.

“Of course I am,” he says quickly, bouncing on his toes to reset the mood. “Now, less talking, more dancing!”

You hesitate but eventually let it go, letting him take your hand and spin you back into position. Yet, as the music starts up again, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s more to the text than he’s letting on.

On the counter, Jisung’s phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up briefly before going dark. The message still sits there: "You ready to see her?"

The rhythmic click of Jisung’s shoes echoes down the hospital hallway, a stark contrast to the sterile silence that surrounds him. His hands are stuffed into his jacket pockets, clenched tightly as if to keep himself from shaking. The confidence and playfulness that had defined him earlier in the living room are gone, replaced by a hollow, heavy weight in his chest.

He pauses outside the door to a room, staring at the small plaque on the wall with your name printed neatly on it. His heart hammers in his chest as he exhales shakily, steeling himself before finally pushing the door open.

The fluorescent lights overhead hum faintly, casting an unforgiving brightness across the room. Machines beep softly, their rhythm steady and monotonous. And there you are. Completely motionless in the hospital bed, your face pale, your body almost swallowed by the thin blankets. Tubes and wires tether you to the machines keeping you stable, their presence stark and invasive.

Jisung freezes in the doorway, the sight of you knocking the air from his lungs.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice cracking. He steps closer, his movements hesitant and unsteady. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him feels deafening.

He lowers himself into the chair by your bedside, his trembling hands reaching for yours. Your skin is cold, unmoving, and his grip tightens instinctively, as though holding on to you will keep you from slipping further away.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m here, so… you can wake up now, okay?”

The only response is the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Jisung leans forward, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand. His shoulders begin to shake as tears spill over, falling silently onto the thin hospital sheet.

“You know,” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion, “I taught you how to dance. I mean, not perfectly, but we were getting there. You were laughing so much, and—” He stops, his breath hitching as the reality of his words catches up to him.

Because it wasn’t real.

The living room, the music, the laughter— it was all in his head. His imagination, his desperate mind, had conjured you up to fill the unbearable silence you’d left behind.

“I just…” His voice cracks again as he squeezes your hand. “I just wanted to see you smile. To hear you laugh. Even if it wasn’t real.”

The weight of the truth crashes down on him, suffocating and relentless. His mind replays every moment of the past few weeks—the way he had clung to the image of you, teaching you to dance, pretending everything was okay.

His tears flow freely now, soaking into the fabric of your blanket as he clutches your hand like a lifeline. The room feels unbearably quiet, the sound of the machines and his muffled cries the only noises breaking the stillness.

He sits there for what feels like hours, talking to you about everything and nothing—how much he misses you, how much he needs you to come back.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice raw, “don’t let this be the end. 

But you don’t move. Not yet. And Jisung can only sit there, crumbling under the weight of his grief, as reality continues to sink its claws into him.

“I thought…” His voice cracks, and he pauses, choking back a sob. He grips your hand tighter, as if that alone could anchor him in this unbearable moment. “I thought I could bring you back. Even if it wasn’t real—” His words catch in his throat, and he pulls his hands to his face, muffling the anguished cry that escapes him.

Tears stream down his face as he looks back at you, his expression one of complete devastation. “It felt real,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “You were laughing. You were dancing. It was like… like you were still here with me.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against your hand as he begins to unravel completely. “I just wanted one more dance with you,” he says, the words slipping out in a strangled sob.

The silence in the room presses against him, suffocating and unrelenting. His shoulders shake as he cries, the weight of the last few weeks crashing down on him all at once.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he confesses, his voice thick with grief. “You were the one who kept me grounded. When everything felt too hard, you… you were my anchor. You gave me a reason to keep going.”

He lifts his head slightly, his tear-streaked face staring at your still form. “And now…” His voice falters, his lips trembling as he struggles to find the words. “Now I don’t even know who I am without you.”

His gaze drops to your hand in his, his fingers tracing over yours with a tenderness that breaks his heart all over again. “Dancing with you, even in my head… it kept me going. It made me feel like maybe… maybe you were still with me.”

He swallows hard, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. “But they stole it from us,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “They stole our dance.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and final, as Jisung lets out another ragged sob. His grief pours out of him uncontrollably, raw and unfiltered, as he buries his face in his hands.

The walls of the hospital room seem to close in around him, the sterile brightness only amplifying the darkness he feels inside. He leans forward, pressing his lips gently to the back of your hand, his tears falling onto your skin.

“Please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me. I don’t care how long it takes. Just… come back.”

His words are met with the same unyielding stillness, the heart monitor’s steady rhythm the only response. And so he sits there, broken and lost, holding on to you as tightly as he can, afraid to let go of the only piece of you he has left.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from crying. He looks down at your hand, his tear-filled eyes blurring the sight of your still fingers. “I want to believe you’ll wake up, but… what if you don’t?”

The question lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. He lets his head fall forward, his forehead pressing against your hand as his shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m so scared,” he murmurs, barely audible. “Scared that I’ve already lost you.”

For a moment, the only sound is the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

And then it happens.

A faint movement—so subtle he almost misses it.

Your fingers twitch beneath his.

Jisung freezes, his breath catching in his throat. His head snaps up, his wide, tear-streaked eyes darting to your hand. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and disbelief.

He watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as your fingers twitch again—just the slightest motion, but enough to send a jolt through his entire body.

“Y/N!” he says again, louder this time, his grip tightening around your hand. He leans forward, his eyes darting between your hand and your face, searching desperately for any other sign of movement.

The heart monitor continues its steady rhythm, the faint beeping echoing in the room as the scene begins to fade.

“Please,” he whispers one last time, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[cece693]

Batman's Code of Ethics

pairing: bruce wayne x gender neutral reader tags: batman's code of ethics, sad ending for the batman, divorce, relationship conflict, vengeance

You first met Bruce Wayne at a fundraiser in downtown Gotham—one of those glamorous events where champagne sparkled and conversations danced on the knife’s edge of philanthropy and pretense. But it was the little moments that made you fall in love with him: how he paused to listen intently when you spoke, the gentle way he rested his hand against yours, the subtle but steadfast warmth in his gaze.

That warmth was what drew you in. It was what bound the two of you together in a promise—one that, in time, grew to include your son, Jason Todd. From the outside, you were Gotham’s picture-perfect family. But beneath the veneer of limousines and charity balls was the knowledge that every night Bruce put on the cowl, he wrestled with the darkness that consumed his city. It didn't bother you in the beginning—you knew Batman and Bruce were one; you couldn't ask him to leave the suit behind in favor for your family. But when that call came through—saying that Jason had gone missing, changed everything

Your heart has never felt heavier, not in the far corners of childhood loneliness nor in the quiet heartbreak of the many nights Bruce spent alone on the streets. You never knew grief could taste this bitter—tainted by the helpless anger now threading through your every breath. The walls of Wayne Manor seem to loom around you, suffocating and full of shadows. The place once felt like home; now feels like a mausoleum.

Outside, rain spatters the windows, each drop a dull percussion to the cacophony in your head. You’re standing near the fireplace, hands balled into fists, knuckles white with tension. Across the room, Bruce stares at you. His posture is rigid, arms stiff at his sides. The family painting you had commissioned is hung on the far wall, and seeing it cause fresh tears to fall. Jason, your son—dead.

“I can’t believe this, Bruce,” you say, voice shaking with rage. “He was our son. Our boy. And you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?”

He closes his eyes briefly, as though trying to steady himself. “You know I want justice,” he says, voice low and rough. “But I have—Batman has—rules.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood. That single phrase, Batman has rules, ignites something in you, the memory of your son’s laughter mixing with the image of his lifeless body. “Do you think I care about Batman’s rules right now?” The words rip from your throat. “Don’t you dare throw your precious code at me! This isn’t about your crusade—this is about avenging the murder of our child.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens. His hands clench, the only outward sign he’s losing his carefully placed composure. “Gotham can’t fall into anarchy. I made a vow never to cross that line—”

“I can’t believe you’re more concerned about crossing lines than ending the one monster who took him from us!” you shout, voice echoing in the large room. “That clown…that monster is roaming free—he’ll do it again, Bruce. He will. And you won’t do anything?”

Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the tension. The fireplace flickers, and for an instant, you see every etched line on Bruce’s face—the strain, the sorrow, and the anger. He steps closer, each footfall echoing in the hush.

“You think I’m not doing anything?” he hisses, voice tremoring with a swirl of agony and indignation. “Every night, I go out there, I chase him, I stop him from harming someone else. But I don’t kill. Because if I do it once—just once—there’s no going back. The city will have lost its symbol of hope. I will have lost myself.”

You hurl the words at him, your voice trembling, “Symbols don’t matter more than life! More than Jason’s life! Don’t you want the Joker to suffer? Don’t you want to see him punished for what he did?”

“He’ll be punished by the law,” Bruce insists, though the confidence he’s trying to project is thin. “He’s going to Arkham—”

“Arkham?” you bark a laugh that feels like it tears you open from the inside. “He’ll escape again. He always does. You know it. I know it. And the cycle goes on, more people die, more children are orphaned, more families are broken. How many more Jasons? How many more nights do we have to grieve?”

He breathes hard through his nose, turning away as if to gather the scattered fragments of composure. “It’s not that simple—”

“Maybe it is that simple,” you say quietly, your initial anger collapsing into sorrow. “Maybe I just have to accept that what you wear at night means more to you than the life we built…than the son we raised together.”

You see the pain slice through him like a physical wound. He’s trembling, fists in tight knots at his sides, face set in grim lines. “Don’t do that,” he warns in a near whisper. “Don’t question how much I loved him. Don’t say this is about not caring. God, you know I cared. I love him. But I refuse to become the very thing I despise.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” you ask, voice breaking. “Just stand by and let the system fail us again? Let the Joker walk free in six months, only to put someone else in a grave? I…I can’t do this. I can’t keep standing by.”

He takes a step closer, the space between you so thick with tension it’s almost tangible. Then he hesitates, gaze flicking over your features, and you see it clearly—a snap of anger flaring in him.

“You don’t understand me,” he spits in frustration. “You never did. You fell in love with the man behind the mask, but you never understood why the mask exists in the first place.” His voice is a tremulous roar in the hush. “You claim to know me, to love me, but you’d see me become a murderer?”

Every word that leaves his mouth strikes with precision, forcing your eyes to sting with tears you fight to keep at bay. “I’m not asking you to become anything,” you manage, voice raw. “I’m asking you to do what any father—any husband—would do. I’m asking you to show the Joker that he can’t take everything we have without real consequences.”

Your pleas dangle in the silence. You wait, though your heart already feels like it’s shattering. Bruce’s lips part, but no words come. You see the torment running through his mind, the moral lines he’s drawn over and over again since he first became the Batman. And you see the part of him that wants to agree with you, that wants to break the Joker and end the nightmare. But that war rages behind his eyes, and you realize he will not cross that line, no matter how deep the wound.

The hush that ensues is deafening. Finally, Bruce tears his gaze from yours. In that final, wordless moment, you understand each other too well. His morality—his vow—stands as an unbreakable wall between you, between him and vengeance, between your love and the path that would bring you both finality.

You brush past him, feeling the heat radiate off his body even as the chill of his rigid stance sets in. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the patter of the rain outside.

Days turn into weeks, and you sleep in separate bedrooms. Though you both wander the Manor’s halls like ghosts, you barely speak. And when you do, conversations are clipped and tinged with bitterness. Alfred’s gentle attempts at bridging the gap only highlight the chasm.

Gotham’s nights still see Batman swooping through the city, chasing down criminals, returning them to Arkham. It’s all the same routine that took your son away, all the same cycle that left Jason’s place at the dinner table forever empty.

The day of Jason’s funeral arrives. You stand in front of his headstone—Jason Todd Wayne, beloved son. Bruce stands next to you, silent as a statue. The city’s skyline is stark behind you both. The weight of finality sinks in: he is truly gone. And the man you love, whose eyes reflect unspeakable pain, remains as resolute as ever in the vow that distances him from you.

In that moment, sorrow merges with conviction; you realize you can’t be with him like this. You can’t reconcile yourself to it. You can’t keep watching him throw criminals back into Arkham only for them to escape. You can’t watch him refuse the final step, the step you desperately believe in, to save another family from this torment.

You quietly take off the ring Bruce gave you—polished titanium, etched with your initials. You slip it into his hand, fingers closing over his palm, and brush away the tears that fall freely now.

“Bruce,” you whisper, voice thick with grief, “I can’t stand at your side after this. What you’re doing, how you’re not ending it. Maybe it’s noble. Maybe it makes you a hero. But I can’t live with it. Not after Jason.”

He looks at the ring, the bright metal in his gloved hand. He doesn’t speak, his throat too tight with emotion. You think for a moment he’ll protest—that he’ll reach for you, try to fix what’s broken—but he doesn’t. Perhaps he knows, deep inside, that his unyielding lines will never coincide with yours now.

Months later, in a quiet lawyer's office, the finalization of your divorce is as cold and pragmatic as signing any legal form. The media never gets wind of it—the Wayne name shields such intimate heartbreak behind well-guarded gates. You walk away from the building's room with finality. Nothing left to say.

You remember Bruce once whispering, We do what we must for Gotham, for justice. But for you, the definition of justice had changed irrevocably the day you lost Jason. There is no bridging the distance between your brand of justice and Batman’s unwavering line.

In the hush of your new apartment, boxes half-unpacked, you find a small photo of you, Bruce, and Jason on a rare sunny day by the Manor gardens. Jason’s grin is broad, unstoppable—the future once felt so boundless. You press the photo to your chest, letting the wave of grief pass over you like a slow tide, your tears falling onto a cardboard box top.

[tsukimefuku]

the event (1) ❖ nanami kento

this part → part 2 (soon) | mdni! | the nile is a river in egypt 👍

summary: after struggling for so long with the feelings you had for nanami, your colleague and closest friend, you finally decide to put an end to your misery and confess to him. little did you know there was no misery left for you to wallow in that night — none at all. alternatively: nanami was a gentleman, but holy hell, given the context, there weren't many ways he could misunderstand the phrase "I want you".

tags: jujutsu kaisen, sorcerer!f!reader, colleagues in the field, 18+, alcohol, explicit! smut (oral f!receiving, piv, squirting), 1/3 plot 2/3 filth ratio, it’s romance guys, nanami x reader, reader is emotionally stunted, they're clearly in love, angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, basically a book chapter, no beta my inner demons proofread this.

wc: 8k

notes, etc.: if i have to rewrite this one more time i will commit a felony. inspo → just like you do (carly simon) and sonnet (the verve). saved by smooth operator (sade). the bit "love is something brave people do" is inspired by fleabag's last episode. appetizers for this fic are the shorties “would you let me die?” and “where does your mind drift”.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

this is big but very worth it, i promise.

Today, you were determined to finally utter those three words and put an end to your own personal brand of misery. 

Ever since you and Nanami kind of discussed if getting involved would be a bad idea — he said it would, but you had your doubts — you just couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew you had feelings for him. Maybe. He mentioned that he believed you thought about him. 

But the thing was… nothing was actually said. It was all implied. Implied into oblivion.

You two had been working together for a good while now, and you didn't fail to notice that, in the most recent encounters you've had, be it on missions or just having a drink at your favorite bar, your heart would involuntarily throb whenever you gazed at him for too long. 

Not only that, but you were finally able to admit to yourself that your gratitude towards the sorcerer, who saved your life years ago, had become love. You were, without a shred of a doubt, in love with him, and the fact that he clearly stated that getting involved would be ill-advised — his words, not yours — was a special type of torture.

So be it — you were confessing your feelings for him today, at least to have a definitive answer. It would be better to get shot down than keep doing this little tip-toe dance around the unsaid. You just couldn't do this anymore.

Thing was… You were terrible with feelings. And words. And putting feelings into words. And also just feeling your feelings, in general.

So you decided to invite him to a bar — like you always did —, and chat the night away — again, like you always did — to try easing yourself into this conversation in a comfortable, known setting. Your drinks were downed until the middle of the night like you were filling up a Jeep tank, trying to fuel yourself with liquor-bought courage. 

Eventually you slowed down, because certainly throwing up would be less than ideal. Better to be sober and chicken out than drunk and vomiting.

You were so in your own head, though, that you failed to realize Nanami was accompanying you in the "getting completely hammered" department until about a few hours prior, partially regaining his sobriety, with a lot of things swirling around in his own mind.

Mostly, he still thought about the non-conversation you both had about thinking of each other. More specifically, the fact that you inquired, right at the end, if it would really be such a bad idea.

Would it? 

Could he dare to dream of a life beyond killing curses and hoping not to die every time he stepped his foot into a mission?

He wasn't sure about it anymore, and could feel his usual negative stance about getting romantically involved with someone while still being a jujutsu sorcerer wavering — an absolute first for him. He was hardly someone to be swayed on his stances in life.

But this time, just maybe, you were able to do that without even realizing.

He caught himself gazing at you more frequently than usual, and wondering what would be the texture of your flower-scented hair tangled in between his fingers.

Today, your hair smelled like jasmine flowers.

Unlike you, however, Nanami was unsure if he'd touch upon the subject that night, specifically, in case he ever decided to do so. He’d prefer to talk about it in an appropriate setting — dinner at a restaurant, maybe? No, you weren't someone who'd like that. Perhaps at a picnic, she does enjoy nature...

He tried shaking those thoughts away along with his feelings, but it didn’t work.

The conversation was very pleasant, and you two were reminiscing about his mission at your hometown where you both met years ago. 

”Do you remember when I tried cooking breakfast? Oh, that was a good one,” you jested, chuckling. 

Nanami nodded, resting the edge of his whiskey cup on his bottom lip. 

“I’d say that was a terrible one. You nearly set your entire kitchen on fire trying to fry eggs,” he noted, letting a smile take over his lips.

You laughed in response.

”Yeah, you’re probably right. But at least you rescued me and made one of the best tamagoyaki I’ve ever eaten.”

He put his glass down on the counter, looking at you with those adoring, beautiful, brown honeyed eyes.

"One of?"

You chuckled, trying not to stare too much.

Good God, he's looking gorgeous tonight.

“Oh, come on. According to you, I can barely taste my food the way I eat, mixing everything up in my plate,” you joked, “I don’t have the same particular taste buds of yours.”

Nanami sighed, rolling his eyes at your teasing, taking a sip of his whiskey.

The ice had melted a little, and he felt the watery coat on the drink with displeasure, grimacing a little.

Somehow, Nanami failed to see the irony in that.

You noticed, and laughed a little before continuing.

"The other amazing tamagoyaki I had was when you rescued me from starving during my first week here. But I don't think I'd really regret burning Jujutsu High down, even if it was an accident."

Nanami shook his head lightly, the smile still on his face betraying his half-hearted chide.

Then, after the banter evaporated in the air, that moment finally came.

The absolute silence.

Arguably the perfect opportunity to say these types of things… So you began.

"Nanami, I…" words gagged. "I wanted to tell you something."

His body visibly tensed up a little, but he probably didn't realize it.

He knew, of course.

Nanami noticed all the recent instances you'd stare at him, and ever since pulling you in for a not-so innocent hug when you were both stranded on the road after a mission together, he felt dangerously close to crossing this boundary. 

Nanami's words were easily controlled, always so neatly put together with mathematical precision to express his thoughts. However, ever since he crossed the line of physical contact beyond pure platonic affection, it had been difficult keeping his hands to himself. 

Right now, he wanted to cup your face with his palms and brush his thumbs against your cheeks.

Perhaps even press his lips against you- stop that, you’re not a teenager anymore.

This comfort zone of avoiding the discussion about the feelings you both had for each other was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. 

"What?"

You gulped, and took a few more sips of beer.

"I…"

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

Your syllable had stretched long enough for this to have become a little awkward.

"I wanted to thank you," you blurted out, more for your benefit than his.

Nanami was equal parts relieved, disappointed, and surprised.

Did he actually want you to tell him you had feelings for him?

"Thanks for welcoming me to Jujutsu High, for shepherding me all this time, and for being a reliable, good friend. I was ready to face hell here, but it was… much better than I had anticipated. So, thank you, Nanami."

He looked at you, and both held each other's gaze for a moment. His hazel brown eyes were always something that lured you in, and you surely enjoyed how he'd always remove his green shades to talk to you.

Seeing them felt strangely — and endearingly — intimate.

"You're welcome," he offered in a kind note.

"Last call!" the bartender stated loudly, as you and Nanami looked at each other, feeling somewhat disappointed that the night was about to be over.

Stepping outside after paying, you both realized it was raining — something neither had noticed from inside the bar.

With half a mind to do something, definitely inebriated, and still with a declaration stuck in your throat, you absentmindedly made a question to Nanami.

"Can I wait the rain out at your place?"

He did live close by, in any case.

For a second, you realized you were probably butting in his rest hours, and felt a little embarrassed.

"Yes," he replied immediately, also absentmindedly, before you could retreat your request.

***

It was actually the first time you ever visited his apartment, and it was interesting to see his place. To no one's surprise, Nanami's pristine apartment, with his collections of books and CD's — he still had an actual stereo CD player — felt as every bit put together as Nanami himself did.

His kitchen drawers alone were surely more organized than your income tax return.

You sat on the counter and had your drenched hair haphazardly covered with a blue towel as Nanami fixed something to eat for the both of you.

The smell of cooked rice and eggs filled the air, hugging your senses, as you watched, still halfway drunk, how he skillfully walked back and forth, being somewhat inebriated himself, making way more than instant noodles, your first choice after proposing you both ate something to ease the alcohol out.

You stared at his back while he cooked, trying to push the thought of telling him how you felt to the back of your mind, at least for a while, just so you could enjoy the following moments without the sensation of impending doom.

As he finished plating the food, you were nothing short of impressed — the man mustered up the skill to cook omurice while inebriated, a feat you couldn't do sober even in one of your best days. 

"This is incredible, you're such a badass," you remarked as Nanami gave you a plate with a pair of chopsticks.

"It's a simple recipe," he replied, getting his own and taking a bite out of it as he leaned against the sink counter, facing you.

"Oh, it surely is,” you remarked, ironically.

You were getting ready to eat as Nanami interrupted you.

"Don't desecrate it," he chided, referencing the way you'd usually stir up your food on your plate until it became an unidentifiable goo before eating, "try to taste your food at least this once."

You chuckled a little, acquiescing.

"Okay. This is too beautiful to get vandalized, anyway."

Nanami huffed, the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips, before he took another bite.

"I am so going to regret this entire thing tomorrow," you stated, taking the first piece out of your plate, “I drank like a sailor.” 

It was absolutely delicious, of course. It was Nanami's food, after all.

He swallowed before proceeding.

"Me too, most likely. I hadn't drunk this heavily since… ever."

"Hah, me neither."

You both resumed eating peacefully, partaking in a comfortable and cozy silence for the next few minutes. During that time, he looked at you without you noticing, and realized just how much he wanted this small sliver of peace — sharing a good meal with you in his kitchen after a remarkably pleasant night — to keep going for eternity. 

You were looking so adorable with his blue towel over your drenched hair.

As you were finished, he took both plates and put them inside the sink, going back to his original position. Nanami had already removed his tie, his weapon holster and opened the top of his blue buttoned shirt by this point, both of his sleeves rolled up for him to cook.

It was becoming increasingly hard not to stare.

"Thank you, Nanami," you said, smiling at him.

"It's no trouble," he answered, softly smiling back at you.

His smile was much sweeter than usual, and it sent your heart throbbing against your chest.

The urge came again, to finally tell him.

However, when you actually spoke, something entirely unexpected came out of your mouth.

"Why did you come back to Jujutsu High after years of working a regular job?"

Nanami was surprised, to say the least, and pondered for a while before resuming his answer.

He had left the jujutsu world shortly after the mission where he met you and ‘failed you’ — that last part solely according to him — so, needless to say, this was a sensitive topic. 

"Well, I had known the jujutsu world, and after entering the corporate one, I realized both were idiotic. So-"

"No, not that speech," you interjected, "I want to know exactly what happened for you to come back. I mean, when we ran into each other years ago, you seemed pretty resolute in trying your retired-by-40 and moving to Malaysia plan, and from what I gathered, not long after that, you just came back, out of nowhere."

Nanami was silent, because he remembered vividly what had transpired, and that you had something to do with it.

"Well," he began, "a few days after we had that conversation, I went into a bakery to buy breakfast. It was always the same person at the cash register, and she had a small fly head curse on her shoulders for a while. It began affecting her sleep, given her complaints. I had avoided doing something about it, but our conversation kept ringing in my head."

Nanami averted his gaze, as if remembering the moment in its details before proceeding.

"After I exorcised it, her shoulder pain subsided, and she thanked me. That was it."

You remembered well how you chided him, telling Nanami to go back into sorcery because the world of jujutsu needed people who truly cared, such as himself. You just didn’t think it would have such a direct connection to the reasons he came back.

"So... you realized the importance of the job we do?" you inquired, with a half-smile pulled on your cheek.

He sighed. "Something like that."

"Oh, Mr. Nanami 'I'm just doing my job' Kento... you have finally understood that meaning is something relevant to you, it seems," you remarked, light-spirited.

He smiled, looking the other way, somewhat appreciating the fact that he had just been read like a book by you.

"But... don't say I had something to do with you coming back," you stated, "I might feel responsible if something happens to you."

Even as a joke, this snapped at your heart a little. The mere thought of losing him felt terrifying.

Nanami sighed, smile vanishing, looking back at you. 

"You always see things from a perspective of assigning responsibility and guilt... It is a perspective that usually warrants unnecessary suffering."

You scoffed, still wearing your mid-smirk on your face.

"Oh, and looking at everything from a protective perspective is any different? I mean, both boil down to us thinking we're responsible for other people's fates."

He was slightly taken aback, before smiling discreetly and crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

"I guess you're right."

Nanami looked at you, and seemed to be staring at your cheek. Under the dim light from the stove hood, you could make out the contours of his face — his sharp jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, and his now exposed forearms with taut, sculpted muscles, right under the rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt. 

If pupil dilation could be felt, you would have definitely felt it at that moment.

The urge came up again, but by this point, you were already feeling defeated enough at your pathetic inability of confessing your feelings, so you just let your mouth roll with whatever came out of it.

"I really admire you, Nanami."

You surprised even yourself.

His eyes then met yours.

"Do you?"

Pondering on your words, you nodded, thinking a little about it.

"You're such a calm, collected and responsible person. You seem to always know exactly what you're doing, meanwhile I'm usually just guessing around. No wonder Ino and Yuuji look up to you."

Even under the soft lighting, you could swear you saw Nanami's face blush a little.

"Thank you," he stated, bowing his head slightly towards your direction.

You smiled at him and sighed right after.

"Most times, I don't think I'm someone people would call admirable or actually look up to."

This was something you hadn't anticipated you'd say. You had never told that to anyone.

But, well, this was him. This was Nanami.

"Why do you say that?" he inquired in earnest.

"Because... Because I'm often hanging by a thread, just trying to survive. I'm not doing great things. I'm barely existing, sometimes."

He mulled his thoughts over for a second before answering you.

"You have a good capacity for adapting, taking whatever life hands you and doing the best you can with it," he noted, "and you keep going even if you feel like you're guessing. Even when you don't know where you're going. That takes bravery, and I find it to be admirable."

Now you were the one surprised, and you could feel your entire face burning the moment he finished uttering those words. You were never one to take compliments easily, but this was a whole other level.

You stood there, mouth slightly agape, faltering without any words.

His eyes had returned to your cheek, and in a swift movement, you heard him say excuse me as he stepped into your direction, rubbing his thumb on it to take off some food you hadn't realized that was still stuck on your face.

Nanami barely registered that the thoughts looping around his mind the entire night about touching you had finally taken the best of him.

Before he could remove his hand, though, you held it in place, lifting your eyes to meet him.

His palm felt warm against your skin, his digits rough, and perfect. Just like he was.

Nanami's expression was unreadable as he gazed back at you, and you began hearing your heartbeats against your ears, muffling the sound of the tapping rain on the window.

Words failed him too, and he was guided by his body once again.

Nanami lowered his face and softly pressed his lips over yours, still tasting like whiskey and Demi-glace, which sent waves — that you couldn't quite discern if were hot or cold, perhaps both — all throughout your body.

It was a quick kiss, though, because shortly after, Nanami backed out, still with his eyes closed, and had something resembling a frown on his face.

"I apologize, that was inappropriate," he mumbled, beginning to pull his hand out from your cheek. You, however, held it in place, and that got him to open his eyes and look at you.

He seemed taken by trepidation under his usual collected demeanor, and his lower lip had the slightest twitch to it as his eyes flickered quickly between your mouth and your eyes.

For a moment, you felt like you were looking into the eyes of the Nanami you once knew — the bangs, the uniform, the seventeen-year-old version of him.

Little did you know that your corresponding younger version was looking right back at him with the same bated breath, just like the teens-becoming-adults in the most traumatic ways you two once were.

"Stop apologizing and kiss me," you pleaded, edging your face closer to his, pulling his towel off your head.

You could feel his breath exhaling against your skin, as Nanami approached his body to yours, putting himself in between your knees, and cupped your face in his hands. His body was incredibly warm, just like his hand, and his woody, musky scent sent your senses spiraling when he finally descended his lips to yours, determined on taking his time — after all, this was a kiss ten years in the making.

His mouth felt velvety and supple, and you both melted into each other while exploring the way his head tilted against yours, how your nails would eventually find their way up the nape of his neck, how your breath would hitch every time he pressed his mouth against yours more intently. Your lips slid wetly over each other with a newfound ease none of you expected.

You were both dipping your toes in the ocean and testing the temperature before committing to dive into deeper waters, taking all the time into familiarizing with the feeling of each other's bodies.

Nanami's hands descended to your waist, leaving a trail of heat on the way, and you let out a soft moan into his mouth when he pressed them against you. He groaned lowly, a sound reverberating from the depths of his chest, as he parted his lips from yours and put some distance in between your faces with his eyes closed.

You didn't understand, but before you could ask anything, he began speaking.

"I don't mean to assume," he stated, letting his forehead rest on yours.

"Hm... What do you mean?"

"I... What I mean is we can stop, in case you don’t..​. We're both still somewhat under the influence. You are," Nanami replied, opening his eyes to look into yours. The faltering restraint dwelling in them was palpable. 

In the back of your mind, you wondered if there was any way of loving him more than you already did. Even now, he was so mindful and careful with you.

"I want this," you replied, resolute, "I want you. I've wanted it all for a very long time. It's not a drunken decision, I mean it."

His gaze softened in a way you had never seen before, one of his hands ascending to brush his thumb over your cheek. Nanami snuggled his nose against yours and sighed, seemingly fluttering.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I want you," you repeated, incisively.

He let out a huff of air against your mouth, and you could smell his breath, mingled with the scent emanating from him and his clothes. Intoxicating wasn't a strong enough word — you were completely enthralled, entranced and overwhelmed by him. Every sound got muted, but the sound of his breathing. Every smell disappeared, but his. And there was no other temperature in the room other than the warmth of his body.

You had entered tunnel vision mode, and at the end of it, he was your light.

Closing the remaining inches that separated the both of you, he brushed his lips against yours, whispering, "then have me. Have all of me."

Still cupping the side of your face, Nanami tilted it, finally fitting your lips against his again, like lovely little puzzle pieces getting more and more accustomed to each other by the second. He felt around your contours, pressing the tip of his tongue softly over the seam of your mouth, and you warmly welcomed him in, his true taste lingering just under the drinks and sauces being enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

He was salty, fresh, and a breeze of cool air by the seashore.

There were a few times you wondered what he'd be like, but your fantasies were quick to pale in comparison to the reality of him.

Nanami’s broken restraint was completely done for, and just this once, he wanted to let it come tumbling down like a house of cards, as he parted to gaze at your disheveled hair, your flustered face, your slightly puffy lips.

His chest swelled full and content at that sight.

He met you once again, and the ruffling from the fall was sounding better than he could have ever hoped for, insistent heart beat pushing against his ears, encompassing your breathless kissing like a sonnet.

Nanami's hands, however, didn't dare explore beyond your waist, and all this intense make out session was starting to make your panties feel uncomfortable against your pooling arousal. You were starting to feel antsy, and your body was nearly twitching at the aching desire. You needed some kind of relief, or you'd go insane.

Nanami was a gentleman, but holy hell, given the context, there weren't many ways he could misunderstand the phrase I want you.

You put your hands over his and slip them down to cup your ass, parting from his lips for a moment.

"Stop keeping your hands to yourself. Touch me," you pleaded, with some type of simmering desperation to your voice that you hadn't yet heard — never, actually.

He looked at you, and seemed equally desperate in an unfathomable way. He pulled you in, kneading his fingers fiercely against your skin while moaning into your mouth, and pressed your bodies hard enough for you to feel him pulsating through multiple layers of fabric.

Oh, my.

You knew he was strong, but this was something else. 

Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, and drew the tips of your fingernails down his back, while grinding over his growing erection with your clothed core. Nanami let out a muffled groan on your skin and began kissing your neck intently with messy, open-mouthed kisses.

He put his hands under your thighs and whispered in your ear, "hold on to me."

That caught your attention from your hazy brain.

"I... My hair is still wet. My clothes are a little damp, too. I'm kind of a mess right now," you told him, chuckling sheepishly.

This man's apartment was the most immaculate place you had ever been in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was to dirty it around with dripping water from the rain. In his bed, of all places.

Nanami immediately pulled himself back and held your face, locking eyes with you.

"You are beautiful right now," he remarked, not giving you enough time for an answer, as he pressed another kiss on your lips — this time, more urgent, a little sloppy, but just as passionate, if not more. You gasped into his mouth, letting your body take control.

In an instant, your arms were draped over his shoulders, your legs tightened firmly around his body, and his strong hands held the back of your thighs, as Nanami lifted you from that counter like you weighed nothing.

You squeaked in surprise, and he uttered a soft, deep chuckle before planting a quick peck on your lips. 

After walking you both into his room, he calmly descended towards the mattress, laying you down delicately and climbing his way on top of you.

When he approached his face to yours, you smiled at him, and he smiled back, sharing a tender moment of silent closeness.

This was probably your favorite shared quietude yet.

“I should get out of these wet clothes,” you stated, giggling softly, before tugging your shirt over your head.

He huffed a soft smiling hum in return, as his palms found their way towards the sides of your hips. Their warmth clashed a stark contrast against your still dampened, cold skin, and his touch was electric, making you involuntarily sigh.

"Help me take these pants off," you cooed, relaxing your legs around his body.

Nanami didn’t need to be told twice, and swiftly slid his hands down to unzip you and pull your damp pants off while you unclasped your bra.

After he was done, his eyes lingered over the drenched patch on your underwear, a realization that definitely riled him up, as his breath got caught midway out his nostrils for a second.

Nanami’s fingers swirled around your bra straps, but before he removed it, you began unbuttoning his shirt, finishing off unclenching his belt and unzipping his pants.

"It would be unfair for me to be the only one exposed here," you remarked, light spirited, while smiling tenderly at him.

He smiled back very much the same way, and pulled his shirt off, downing his pants, letting it all become a wrinkled puddle on the floor. Nanami caged you in between his arms, and pressed a quick kiss on your lips, asking, "do you ever stop?"

"Why don't you try to find out?" you slyly replied.

Nanami wasn't usually one to appreciate being teased. This was especially true when it came to Gojo annoying the hell out of him, and he could — and would — also get annoyed at your snarky teasing from time to time.

But it felt different with you. He wasn't nearly as irritated as he would've been with anybody else.

Perhaps because you teased him with love.

Your hands pulled your bra off and tossed it aside, and for some seconds, he was speechless, contouring his eyes all over your body. With butterflies on his chest, he finally cupped your face in his hands again before kissing you once more, and you couldn’t help but notice he really liked holding you like that when he kissed you — and you'd let him, every time he wanted to.

It was lovely to be held so preciously under such an adoring touch.

Letting go of your lips, Nanami began planting kisses under your jaw, descending towards your neck, and nesting his face in between your breasts, inhaling your scent with his face laid over your skin. With your encouraging hand tangling in his hair, he began kissing and licking his way around, kneading on your breasts with his palms. Your hips instantly bucked up against him, at the same time you let out a needy moan.

He noticed it, very pleased, and gave you the tiny mercy of removing your panties.

Still with his mouth plastered on your skin, Nanami descended one hand towards your folds, and groaned the second his fingers touched over your wetness, cock twitching inside his underwear.

You were drenched.

He sounded so satisfied, you couldn’t help but blush a little in between your moans and mewls, wanting to brat out just a little.

“Hah-- I did say- a-ah… that I wanted you,” you half jested, trying to fend off your fleeting embarrassment, “w-what did you… hah-- expect?” 

He stopped briefly, and lifted his face to look at you, sighing with his classic I could be eye rolling at you right now expression.

You smiled mischievously, fully aware he noticed the teasing.

Nanami brushed his fingers above your clit softly, not breaking eye contact, and you thrust your hips up again, mewling mindlessly. Huffing, you tried saying something, but he pressed his fingers a little more intently, having your words turn into incoherent moaning tumbling down past your lips.

At that moment, you just knew…

You stood defeated.

“Finally, you relentless little devil,” he mumbled, kissing his way down your body, as you huffed a few chuckles in between your pleasured sounds.

If he was so hellbent on shutting down your antics like that, you’d probably try to keep them going all night long. Perhaps you could even break his composure completely.

The idea was enticing.

However, he was the one about to break you apart completely, as you realized when his wet, hot tongue got seared-flat against your clit, and stroked on your glistened folds with the ravenous dedication of a starving man.

Nanami was delighted to have finally shut down your quick-wit tease mouth completely, especially like this.

In the back of his mind, he realized he’d gladly do it every time you got on his nerves. 

Being a pretty tactile person, with heightened senses overall, Nanami was sure that tasting you would feel amazing, but this was otherworldly.

Completely enthralled, he began dipping his tongue inside you to drink you in, having your walls clenching immediately around it.

The sounds you made — your moaning and begging, as your thighs rubbed against his cheeks and fingers tugged on his hair — would be etched in his brain for eternity, he was sure of it.

The moment his hands pressed harder on your thighs, pulling them against his shoulders, and you let out a mixture of a squeal and a moan, something inside him snapped, sending his mouth into a feral quest against your cunt.

Groaning and panting into you, he lapped relentlessly on your folds, nuzzling your clit so intently it nearly sent you crawling over the walls. Your vision was white, starry, black, and then white again, and you wondered for a minute if this was all pleasure or if the light of the room was actually flickering. 

Mouth agape, your moans bounced off the walls, and your back arched desperately, while your entire body tightened with the tell-tale signs of an intense orgasm. Your toes were curling, your ears were ringing, and your face contorted in desperate need for release.

“D-don’t stop- don’t… Hah-- I-m… I-I… Hah---!“

Upon hearing your pleas, Nanami latched his lips on your clit and sucked on it so powerfully you didn’t get tipped over the edge, but was effectively thrown from it with no parachute or lifeline. 

Your entire body tensed and jolted. You came with a desperate cry, tightening your grip on his hair with bruising force. He let out a loud moan, trying to hold himself together as you fell apart on his mouth, and started to lick you softly to wean you off your high.

For a few seconds, your entire body stopped answering any voluntary movement signals from your brain, and you could’ve sworn you forgot your name.

You were sent to heaven and returned unscathed. 

Coming back to Earth, your grip on him loosened, and Nanami brought his mouth up to one of your thighs, pressing gentle kisses over it. 

When your vision wasn’t all abstract colors anymore, you looked down to see Nanami with hooded eyes, resting his chin over your mound, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful creature in existence.

Given what had just transpired, you found it to be incredibly absurd that this — him gazing at you — was what had you blushing violently.

But here you were, hiding your face under the back of your hand, as you chuckled sheepishly solely from the way he looked at you.

This beautiful, adoring man.

The urge to tell him how much you loved him came back, but even like this, so unclad and vulnerable, it was incredibly hard.

Nanami was barely blinking, wondering how he had allowed — or better, forced — himself to live without this, without you, for so long.

“I’m starting to feel embarrassed,” you said, equal parts joking and genuine, as you finally managed to meet his glance again. 

He blinked a few times, being pulled from his thoughts, whispering a half-hearted apology as he crawled his way back to you. 

His hair was a mess, his lips were rosy and puffy, and his eyes…

His eyes.

Trying to keep yourself from becoming a fluttering chaos all over again, you shook your head lightly as you resumed speaking.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you cooed, sliding your fingers down his face, pressing your lips to his. Nanami pushed his tongue inside your mouth, and you moaned in response, tasting your essence mixed in with his own flavor.

God, you could kiss him and taste this for hours on end.

His mouth and tongue flowed and veered softly, with no rush other than to imprint your flavor in him. Nanami clearly was a kisser — a very good one —, and was delighted to keep exploring you like that for as long as you’d let him. 

Suddenly, you had a little wicked idea creeping up on you, as you made some effort to finally part your lips from his and uttered, “you know what, I’m sorry.”

Nanami was puzzled.

“What do you m-“

With your strength back, you locked your legs on the sides of Nanami’s waist and rolled his body over, landing on top of him. 

His breath was caught for a moment before he smiled at you. Smiling back, you straddled yourself back, diving your fingers on the edges of his boxers to slide them down.

Nanami helped you by raising his body, and the moment you removed the piece of clothing, his cock sprang out, bearing a flushed, bulbous, red tip that mutely slapped against his belly. It was bigger than you anticipated, thicker too, and you wondered if you could fit it all in your mouth.

Probably not.

You also didn’t fail to notice the very evident damp patch on his underwear from his pre-cum alone.

He must be desperate right now, you thought to yourself, enticingly amused.

However, the moment you were about to wrap your fingers around him and descend, Nanami held your hand and sat up. He seemed slightly… Embarrassed?

“Hm… what is it?” you asked, pressing against his hand.

He cleared his throat.

“I’m… very wound up. Could we…” Nanami mumbled, words dying on their way out. 

Truth was, ever since the moment you were grinding your clothed cunt against him, his mind was boiling to the thought of burying himself inside you to the hilt.

There was no sugar-coating it. 

“Oh…” you let out, “so… you want me too?” you asked, a hint of amusement to your voice.

You weren’t the only one needy tonight.

He sighed from the depths of his soul.

“Stop teasing.”

His voice came out raspy, more of a plea than an actual chide.

The man was crumbling down, and it was delightful to watch The Nanami Kento, always so unflappable, falling apart like this.

You chuckled and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you offered in earnest.

He exhaled gently, gaze towards you softening as he did.

You blushed a little before proceeding.

“Where is the…”

“First drawer.”

Everything happened quickly. You snatched the condom from his nightstand and opened it. Nanami took it from your hands and slid it down his length. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the rubber snapped at the end.

Softly crawling your way towards him, you put both hands on his shoulders to straddle on his lap. Nanami locked his gaze on you, not breaking eye contact even for a second, right up until you both finally kissed again.

His hands began making their way down your back, and then…

You felt it.

The tip of Nanami’s fingers pressed against the scar you had right over your spine, and you gasped in pain as it hit the bundle of tangled nerves bumping over your skin. You instantly backed your face away with an aching grimace.

Nanami had witnessed how you got that scar in the fateful mission in which you two met years ago.

The sound of the blade piercing through your skin and flesh still lingered on in his nightmares.

His hand retreated so quickly you barely felt it leaving your body.

Following the aftershock, you opened your eyes to see him with his own eyes sealed shut, and Nanami appeared to be crawling his way back into his mind. His expression, usually so calm and collected, was replaced by a pained frown of his brows.

“I apologize, I… I’m…” he muttered, and you realized this wasn’t an apology for what just happened.

He still blamed himself for what had taken place then.

It broke your heart to shambles to see him like that, knowing full well nothing that transpired that night was his fault.

You cupped his jaw in your palms, and pressed your forehead to his.

"Hey, stop it. Stop apologizing, you haven't failed me. You never failed me."

Nanami's eyes were still very much sealed, and he seemed to be pulling even further away from you as the memories swirled around in his mind.

"Please, look at me," you pleaded, nuzzling against his face.

After a sigh, he answered, "I… I can't."

And he truly couldn't, still feeling the shame eating away at his chest like a parasite.

You scrambled your mind after something that might help, and finally realized the only thing you could say to pull him back.

Shit.

You were still terrified, and your entire body tensed up.

This is it. Now. I have to tell him now.

According to Nanami, you were brave.

And love, apparently, is something brave people do.

Still cupping his jaw, you sighed before letting the words come out of your mouth.

"Nanami Kento, I love you."

Your voice didn’t falter or stutter. Your declaration smoothly left your lips as naturally as breathing — the same way loving him came to you.

His breath caught halfway out, and he finally opened his eyes, soft and bare, gazing into yours.

"I love you, I have loved you for so long, I…" you repeated, sighing greatly, "I love you."

Nanami opened his mouth, but for a second, nothing — not even a huff of air — would pass. Knotting away in his throat, the words also struggled to form.

Should he? Could he? How deep in trouble would this launch the both of you?

Surpassing his worries, eventually, the words finally came out.

"I love you too."

The guilt and trauma had taken a backseat in his mind, at least for now.

When you heard Nanami’s words — heard him say that he loved you too —, your heart immediately began fluttering, and you could've sworn there was a ringing sound around the both of you.

There wasn't, though, just as much as the honeyed dewy warm rain that prickled over your entire skin was a manifestation of your love ridden excited imagination.

Smiling, you pulled him in for a kiss, and he intently pressed his lips against yours, no exploration left to be done — your tongues, by this point of the night, had met and familiarized themselves with every inch of each other's mouths, breaths, and moans.

Mindlessly, his hands plastered themselves back into your body, and brushed up from your hips, to your waist, over your back all the way to your shoulder blades.

Nanami brought you even closer, and kept kneading his hands against you, almost as if he was trying to touch your entirety all at once.

His fingertips ghosted softly around your scar accidentally again, and your breath hitched for a second. You pulled your mouth from his, just long enough to say, "lay me down."

Nanami understood it, and acquiesced. Swiftly, he supported you from your shoulders and hips, laying you down like a porcelain treasure, and caged you in with one hand to each side of your head.

You both took a few moments to admire each other.

Nanami was a tall and broad man, but from underneath, he seemed even more mountainous. His angular face, his wide shoulders and muscular arms, everything about him was just grand.

In a second, though, interrupting your gazing, his hand pulled a pillow from the top of the bed, and he gently lifted your head to put it underneath.

That was it.

In the end, you knew that his kindness, just as grand as he was, was what stole your heart.

Nanami slowly descended over you, and supported himself with his forearm to the side of your head, using his free hand to part the slightly sweaty hair on your forehead and press a fleeting, soft kiss in between your brows. Your heart skipped a beat, and his mouth came down pecking at your face in the most delicate fashion, until it rested on one of your cheeks.

You guided your hand down and positioned his tip towards your entrance, noticing Nanami shuddering with the sensation of your fingers clasping around him. His hand got down to the side of your hip, and Nanami let out a soft huff as he began to slowly push his length inside. He could feel himself gliding along your slick folds, and scrunched his eyes shut as the tip got past the resistance of your ring, eyelashes brushing over your skin with a feathery lingerance.

To say he was savoring this down to the last infinitesimal tactile sensation would be a gross understatement.

You dragged the tips of your fingers down the muscles of his abdomen, seeing how he deliciously flexed himself inside you, as you savored this in your own way too.

Sinking inch by inch, you could feel all the muscle stretches while his girth accommodated inside your walls, widening and filling you as he slipped in further. Your mouth opened in a muted moan, and with a hazy mind, you turned your face towards his, having the tip of his nose brushing over until your noses bumped against each other.

You captured his lips haphazardly, and Nanami stroked his tongue over your mouth, groaning the moment he bottomed out inside you.

You felt him almost kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and your mind was sent spiraling with the shivers that shot up from your lower abdomen to your entire body. It got you fluttering around his shaft, and Nanami's grip on your hip suddenly tightened, as a strained groan fell from his lips.​

It took you a second to realize exactly what was going on.

"I-I… need… a second,” he mustered up to say in a cracked, coarse voice. His length was throbbing strongly inside you, and his expression looked almost pained. You noticed his fist beside your head was strongly clenched around the bedsheet.

Nanami wasn't lying when he said he was very wound up.

You planted a small, loving peck over his cheek and drew your hands to the back of his head, gently brushing your thumbs against his hair until you felt Nanami’s body relaxing, and his pulse inside you evening out to something calmer. He eventually let go of the bedsheet and drew his hand closer, tangling his fingers in your hair.

In an easy, gradual pace, Nanami began dragging his length out from you, and did so completely, pushing back inside the same way, robbing you of a gasp the moment he bottomed out again. His hips began in a steady, calm rhythm, and from your mouth, came out what he could only say were the best sounds he had ever heard.

“Fuck-- y-you feel… so good…” you purred for him, sending pleasured shivers all over his body. You were both completely covered in sweat right now, and your bodies slapped against each other, sounds only covered by your begging whimpers.

However, as good as it was, you needed more. Greedily, you felt the increasing need of being completely taken apart, and this slow love making was not doing it for you.

“Harder…” you pleaded, and Nanami picked up the pace as soon as he heard you, thrusts becoming more intense. It was better, no doubt about it, but you still wanted more.

Your hungry desire had become something indescribable, and all you could do was mumble softly in between mewls, pleading him to go even harder.

Nanami was also feeling himself grow more and more intent on satisfying your pleas, and realized this might not be the best position to do so. 

He stopped for a second, and you muttered in complaint.

However, your disquiet was short-lived, as he propped himself up, manhandling your hips to accompany him and pulled one of your legs straight, letting your ankle rest on his shoulder, supporting your leg with his arm's length and hand cupping your ass. Your other leg kept hooked around him, and this shift sent his cock even deeper.

“Harder?” Nanami asked, almost as a dare, with his disheveled hair falling over his forehead, a few golden strands tangling with sweat. There was something remotely playful in his eyes, and it sent your heart pounding inside your chest to see him in a way you had never seen before.

Oh, how you coveted to freeze this moment in time.

In answer to his question, you nodded, half-lidded eyes and an anticipation smile, only to be surprised with a thumb making its way to your bottom lip, softly asking its way in.

You obliged, and put your lips around it, sucking on his thumb, basking in the view of this boulder of a man completely shuddering to the sight and sensation of that.

Nanami pulled his hand back, resting his digit over your clit.

“Hold on to something, darling” he warned, having a cheeky smile pulling on his face. 

In sweet anticipation, you pressed your hands against the wall on which the bed rested, and locked eyes with Nanami, just to see him admiring you for a moment before he made a complete mess out of you.

In a sharp motion, he thrust his cock into you so intensely his tip bumped fully against your cervix, trembling the bed on its foundations. Your head launched on the pillow, your mouth falling open to let out the loudest moan — if that sound even be called a moan — you had ever uttered in your entire life.

Not sparing you a moment to recover, he retreated and plunged again and again inside your cunt, sending wet plap sounds bouncing over the walls. Nanami began rutting into you, kissing you deeper and deeper with every thrust, and you were nearly yelling from the pleasurable pain with which he had you finally crumbling down.

“Fuck,” he let out, “is this-- hah- hard enough--?” Nanami asked half in jest, knowing full well he didn’t need an answer. The way your back began arching so deliciously as you yelled and mumbled incoherently was enough of a response.

Every time he’d thrust, your body would tense up, and your walls would suck him in. It was sending his mind into a wild spiral.

Nanami was mesmerized by your face, and had the faintest feeling that he might cum from it alone. You looked and sounded like you were having the most delicious, toe-curling, gut-wrenching, blissful-stupor inducing sex of your life.

And well, up until at that moment, you actually were.

Dear God, he could die right now, and he’d die the happiest man alive.

You were having shock waves of stupor-filled pleasure shooting through your body, and Nanami began circling his thumb over your throbbing, sensitive clit. Oh boy, did he have you seeing the entire Milky Way in a split second behind your eyelids. Your mind distantly registered the noise of dragging wood and your fingers starting to struggle reaching support behind your head.

Is the bed pushing away from the wall? Are we literally rocking the bed? Holy shit.

A heat you rarely felt began to burn like incandescent molten lava in your belly, and you looked at him wide eyed, holding out onto some kind of desperation.

Nanami barely registered that you were looking at him like that when he felt the warm spurts, getting his entire crotch completely greased. You squirted so intensely that for a second you felt like you actually fell unconscious, before coming back to the second wave — the continuum of earth-shattering, convulsing orgasms that always followed it.

He wasn’t ready to have you squirt all over his cock so fervently, letting out the most heavenly, luscious, indecent and pornographic sounds he had ever heard.

He could never be prepared for that.

The sheer scent alone sent shivers throughout his entire body. Your scent was completely smeared over him, slowly dripping down his thighs.

With your walls tightening around his cock, his own peak took him by surprise, as much as he had tried to hold it away. The most animalistic and ferocious groan came out of his mouth as thick strands of white cum filled up the condom. Nanami's entire body jerked, making it incredibly difficult to keep pumping himself into you without risking pulling out too much by mistake, so he just let the convulsing waves finish washing down his body before collapsing on the bed by your side.

You both took a moment to breathe, then two, then three, still panting like you had just run a marathon.

Hell, you were probably panting even harder than that.

"I'm… I’m s-sorry about… the mess," you apologized, huffing and puffing, face blushing as you rolled your eyes back, still recovering from the aftershock.

Nanami instantly turned your face to his, mouth agape and gaze locked onto your lips, as he, without uttering a word, thrust his tongue inside your mouth in an open-mouthed, wet, sloppy kiss. All while still panting heavily.

Pulling back, you smiled, asking, “nothing to apologize for?”

He huffed, smiling back at you, “nothing.” 

You both felt like you'd have the best night of sleep of your lives.

Nanami would not, however, as the thoughts he shoved away to the back of his mind earlier that night were about to take him into unwanted nightmares.

End notes:

I can’t reread this again. I just can’t. Hope I got all the typos out, lol. Old version of this fic is here. When I read it a few weeks ago, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t quite like it, so I decided to give it a go on rewriting it. Three rewrites later, here it is, hope you guys enjoyed it.

-

Tag list (for this fic + current AU tags):

@jadedjane @senseifupa @nikos-a-clown @fairy-corno @ldrcvlt

@magical-girl-b @montyrokz @hexrts-anatomy @g-kleran @otomesass

@redlikerozez @yammy-yammy-yama

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 2

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 4,8k

Tags: bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader, banter

Summary: you're still resisting your new bodyguards and while there seems to be a brat war going on between minho, seungmin and you, you slowly warm up to some of the others. a/n: I nearly deleted the whole chapter and started over like six times while writing this lmao. I hope you like it <3

With Chan and Minho on your heels you storm into Yoona’s office without knocking. Luckily for you she’s not in a meeting nor is she on the phone or she would have probably fired your ass on the spot. Your manager looks up from her computer and frowns at you.

‘Where’s the fire, Nabi?’ 

‘Don’t Nabi me,’ you hiss, balling your fist to stop yourself from angrily pointing at her. You might be angry, but you still respect the woman. 

‘Ah, so you’re that mad at me,’ Yoona sighs, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. ‘Go on then, give me your worst.’ 

You grit your teeth and look over your shoulder at your two future bodyguards, pondering if you should really give Yoona a piece of your mind with them present. Chan looks worried, but when you meet Minho’s gaze he just raises his eyebrows at you, fueling your anger. 

‘They are not moving in with me,’ you growl, taking a step forward to create distance between you and the two men. ‘You can’t force this on me.’ 

Yoona stays silent, knowing you well enough that this won’t be all. 

‘You want them to follow me around all day, fine, but I’m not being watched twenty four seven, Yoon. Even Faris isn’t with me at night now, so why should they?’ 

‘Yeah and look what happened, some lunatic tried to break into your house,’ Minho mumbles. 

‘I moved!’ you yell, turning around to glare at him. 

Minho isn’t impressed and once again raises his eyebrows at you. ‘And you think that no one will find out your new address? I’m sorry to break your bubble, Princess, but stalkers are named just that for a reason and you have some real messed up fans.’ 

‘I also bought a new fancy security system,’ you cross your arms, not breaking your eye contact with him. 

‘Even those can fail, Y/N,’ Chan says, stepping forward with his hands raised as if he’s trying to show you he means no harm. ‘If something really happens it still takes a few minutes for someone to reach you.’ 

He has a point, but you’re not going to give up this easily. 

‘I’ll get a guard dog then,’ you shrug, only partly bluffing. 

Minho snorts and shakes his head. ‘You’re impossible you know, you should be grateful.’ 

‘Grateful?’ you laugh humorlessly. ‘Sure buddy, I’m oh so grateful that I’ll lose even more of my privacy.’ 

They really don’t get it, do they? As an idol you already have little to no privacy, your life being led by your manager and the company you signed under while the media and your fans watch your every move. You love the life, your fans and even the hard work you have to put in, but sometimes the sacrifices still hurt. Sometimes you wish you could experience normal life again, like going to the grocery store or the mall without security or people following you around. 

Minho glares at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but Chan steps in front of him. ‘And we understand,’ he says softly, smiling kindly at you. 

‘Well, I don’t,’ Minho grumbles. 

‘We do,’ Chan keeps his eyes on you as he speaks. ‘I know it will be a sacrifice to share your home with us, but Faris and Yoona picked this house for a reason.’ 

You glance at Yoona and she nods. 

‘It might be a big house, but I’ll still know you’re there. I’ll never be home alone. I won’t be able to walk around in my underwear in my own fucking home or dance on the table while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.’ 

‘You still can if you want to,’ Chan grins. ‘But I get your point and I promise you that we’ll try to be as invisible as possible.’ 

‘There must be another way? Can’t you take turns guarding my door or something?’ you try again. 

‘Selfish much,’ Minho says under his breath and this time Chan also glares at him. 

Anger starts to bubble up in your belly again, but before you can even think about yelling some more, Yoona appears next to you. She wraps her arms around you and presses a kiss against your temple.

'Just get over it, darling, this is happening.’ she says. ‘Now go home and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can. Tomorrow Minho, Felix and Hyunjin will join you for training and by this weekend they will all move in.’ 

You open your mouth to protest some more, but Yoona is already walking back to her desk, letting you know that this conversation is over. You know her well enough to know that no matter what you say or how much you beg, she won’t change her mind on this. When you risk to glance at the men, Minho grins at you and Chan smiles. 

‘Fuck my life,’ you mutter. 

****

You don't talk to any of the men again and just ask Faris to take you home so you can spend the rest of the day mopping in your room filled with unpacked boxes while Faris sits downstairs doing god knows what.

The next day you feel a little better and when you eat your breakfast you text Jisung.

You: Sorry about storming out yesterday.

Jisung:You’re already forgiven (by me at least)

You: Tell Minho to leave his judgement at home

Jisung:How did you know I was with him?

You:Lucky guess. Will you be at the company today?

Jisung:Yes, I'm already on my way. Chan is picking you up.

You frown at your phone and look at Faris who's reading the paper across from you while sipping his tea.

'You’re not coming with me today?' You ask him, pushing away your half eaten bowl of porridge.

Faris looks up with a smile. 'Ji-a has an appointment I'd like to be at, so I asked Chan to be with you until I'm back.'

'Oh, of course,' you give him a small smile in return. 'You should definitely be with Ji-a.'

Faris folds up the paper. 'It will be good for you to spend some time with him, Nabi, just give him a chance.'

'Yeah, okay,' you nod. 'I'll try.'

‘Good,’ Faris smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.’

‘We’ll see,’ you smile back. ‘Chan and Jisung seem really nice at least.’ 

When the man beams at you, you promise yourself you’ll try to be a bit easier on the whole situation, if only to make Faris happy. 

Chan arrives shortly after you clean up your breakfast and you quickly grab your bag and trusty water bottle, trying very hard not to stare at how good he looks in his dark blue suit. It's a crime really and you already know that one of these days he’s going to catch you staring. 

‘You ready?’ Chan asks.

You nod and wave at Faris. ‘Give Ji-a my love.’ 

‘Will do, Nabi. Try and not piss off too many people today, yeah?’ 

You laugh. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.’

Chan chuckles as he holds open the front door for you. ‘Should I warn the others?’ 

You shrug as you follow him to the car, already taking out your phone to text Jisung you’re on your way. He quickly replies with a thumbs up. 

‘Why don’t you sit next to me?’ Chan asks when you reach the car. ‘I’d like to talk a bit if that’s alright.’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ you nod before walking around the car to get to the other side. 

The smell of coffee and sandalwood hits your nose as you get into the passenger seat and you smile in surprise. There’s two to go cups on the dashboard and the sandalwood must either be Chan’s cologne or some sort of car perfume. It smells nice. 

Chan sits down behind the wheel and when you’re buckled up he reaches for one of the coffee cups and hands it to you. ‘Faris said you like cappuccino.’ 

Your mouth forms a surprised ‘oh’ and you happily wrap your fingers around the cup. ‘Thank you,’ you smile genuinely at him. ‘Caffeine is the way to my heart.’ 

Chan chuckles and starts the car. ‘I’ll remember that.’ 

You take a sip of your coffee and close your eyes when the creamy taste of a perfect cappuccino hits your tongue. 

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask Chan, twisting the cup in your hand to look for a logo or anything that will tell you where it’s from. 

‘It’s self made,’ Chan says, his eyes on the road. ‘Do you like it?’ 

Your eyes widen in surprise and you take another sip, nodding happily. ‘You made it? It's delicious.’ 

‘No, I don’t like coffee, but we have a fancy coffee machine at our dorm. The guys are very particular about their coffee and prefer to make their own.’

‘I guess that will be one pro about you moving in,’ you sigh. ‘So who made it then?’ 

‘If I tell you, will you tell them thank you?’ 

You look at Chan with narrowed eyes, taking notice of the grin on his face. 

‘It’s Minho isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes, he’s the coffee king in our dorm.’ 

‘Damnit,’ you mutter. 

Chan laughs and you can’t help but smile. His laugh is adorable and you notice he giggles a lot too. It doesn’t fit his bad boy image, but you like it. 

‘So, will you?’ Chan asks, looking at you. 

‘Thank him? Hmm probably not.’ 

‘Why not?’ 

You snort. ‘He’s a brat.’ 

‘He says the same thing about you,’ Chan smiles. 

‘Of course he does,’ you roll your eyes and take another sip of your coffee. ‘He’s lucky he makes good coffee.’ 

‘He’s also a really good dancer.’ 

‘And you’re not just saying this cause you’re biased?’ 

Chan laughs again and damnit you could get used to that sound. ‘I probably am, but both Minho and Hyunjin danced professionally before they joined the program. Minho has even toured before.’ 

You blink at that piece of information and purse your lips. He must be good if he toured with an idol before, they don’t just hire anybody. 

‘What about Felix?’ you ask, steering the conversation away from Minho. 

‘He mostly danced for fun, but took a preference to martial arts. He’s very flexible and I’ve been told he picks up choreography crazy fast.’ 

All of this makes you very curious to see the three of them in action in a bit and a small part of you secretly hopes that they’re not as good as Chan and Yoona say, because if they are, it gives you one less reason to dislike them and you’re not ready to make friends with either of the men that are rooting up your privacy. 

During the rest of the ride you stay silent, looking out of the window and humming along with the music Chan puts on. He doesn’t push you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Chan seems great and you’re sure that in time you’ll get along splendidly, but for now you simply refuse to make too much of an effort and if that makes you the brat Minho thinks you are, so be it. 

The company building looms up before you and you quickly finish up your coffee as Chan maneuvers the car into the parking garage. As soon as the car stands still, you open the door and jump out, not waiting for Chan. 

‘Y/N!’ Chan calls out after you. ‘Wait up!’ 

You ignore him and press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot as you wait for the doors to open. Luck isn’t on your side and it doesn’t take long before footsteps sound behind you. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you turn around to face Chan while trying to decide if you should apologize for running or not. 

Your eyes widen when you’re not met with Chan’s face. 

‘I knew you’d be a runner,’ Seungmin says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed to be proven right. 

Before you can argue, Chan appears beside him, frowning and holding your water bottle in his hands. Shit. The look on Chan’s face actually makes you feel guilty for running out on him like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I–’

‘Are you though?’ Seungmin interrupts you, crossing his arms. 

You glare at him. ‘I am actually, stop being a–’ 

‘A little brat like you?’ a new voice pipes up. ‘That’s impossible.’ 

Minho. Of course. 

You roll your eyes at him and turn to face the elevator again. ‘Please, I just walked to the elevator without Chan, if that makes me a brat, it makes you a bit of a drama queen don’t you think.’ 

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls so you have to turn around. 

‘I don’t,’ Minho glowers at you. ‘We are here for a reason and you better start to accept it soon or one of these days something will actually happen.’ 

‘Min,’ Chan puts his hand on Minho’s shoulder. ‘Let’s all calm down here.’ 

The elevator doors finally open and you pull your wrist out of Minho’s grip and get inside, pushing the button for the second floor. 

‘Yes, calm your ass down, nothing happened,’ you mumble in their direction. ‘I was without Chan for about ten seconds.’ 

‘That’s all it can take,’ Seungmin says, standing beside you. 

Chan gives you a pleading look as if to say ‘please don’t fight this.’ 

You hold up your hands in surrender, but you don’t say anything. The tension in the elevator is thick and you're glad it’s only a short ride up. Minho leaves without saying anything else and you’re already dreading dance training later. 

‘Come on,’ Chan says, gently placing his hand on your back and pushing you in the direction of your studio. ‘I think we need to have a proper talk.’ 

Seungmin follows and you can’t help but throw him an annoyed look over your shoulder. He just rolls his eyes at you and you grit your teeth, looking ahead again. You might try with Chan and Jisung, but Seungmin and Minho could bite your ass. 

‘Here,’ Chan says, handing you your water bottle. ‘You left this when you jumped out in a hurry.’ 

You open your mouth to apologize, but Chan shakes his head and gives you a sad smile. ‘No need to apologize when you don’t really mean it. I’ll earn your trust eventually.’ 

God damnit, why does this man need to have such adorable puppy eyes and cute dimples you want to poke with your finger. 

'Good morning!' Jisung greets you with a grin when you step into his office. He’s behind his desk that’s littered with papers, two cups of coffee and an empty bowl that probably held ramen if you guessed the smell that lingers in the room correctly. ‘How are we feeling today?’ 

‘She already ran away from Channie Hyung,’ Seungmin says as he drops down on the couch. 

You groan in annoyance. ‘I don’t think you can count walking ahead to the elevator as running away, but okay.’ 

‘You still should have waited for me,’ Chan says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t care that we’re inside your company, you need to stick close to at least one of us at all times.’ 

‘Okay,’ Jisung claps his hands. ‘I see you’re all feeling fine on this beautiful morning, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet for arguing.’ 

‘Preach,’ you mumble, sharing a grin with your new assistant. 

‘You had two coffees already,’ Chan frowns, eying the two cups on the desk. 

‘One actually, the other one was Minho’s,’ Jisung says and he chuckles when you pull a face at his name. ‘How about we all take a little time to wake up some more. Maybe you guys can get us some more coffee while I talk with Y/N here about some of the rules we came up with?’ 

‘Rules? Jisung, come on, I thought you were on my side here,’ you sigh, pouting at him. ‘I’m not a child, you don’t have to give me rules.’ 

‘Apparently we do,’ Seungmin says. 

‘You’re really getting on my nerves here, buddy,’ you glower at him. ‘If anything it’s behaviour like yours and Minho’s that sets me off, so how about I give you some rules of my own huh?’ 

Seungmin snorts and cocks his head. ‘You have no say in this, missy, you’re not our boss.’ 

Jisung quickly grabs your arm when you’re about to jump forward. 

‘Minnie, get the fuck out of here,’ Jisung says, pointing to the door with a serious look on his face. ‘You’re not helping.’ 

‘Yeah, minnie,’ you grin. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’ 

Seungmin just laughs and stands up, holding your gaze. ‘Sure thing, but remember that I’ll be watching you closely, little fly.’ 

‘Seungmin,’ Chan’s voice sounds stern and you grin at him, waving sweetly. 

‘Bye now.’ 

‘You know you’re not helping, right?’ Jisung chuckles, letting go of your arm as Seungmin and Chan disappear into the hallway. 

‘I know, he just brings out the worst in me I guess,’ you admit with a grimace. ‘You might have already gathered this, but I don’t really like to be told what to do and I’m very stubborn.’ 

‘You don’t say,’ Jisung gasps, acting like he’s surprised. 

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh. ‘You would be too when you’re a famous idol with no real say about basically anything you do. I can’t really act out about it, because I chose to be here and I’m grateful about it too, but sometimes it just gets too much you know. I guess you guys are just an easy target for me to lash out at, at the moment.’ You blink when you realize what you just told him and clear your throat. ‘I didn’t mean to drop that on you, sorry.’ 

‘Don’t be,’ Jisung says, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘I’m glad you did. I can’t even imagine the pressure you must be under constantly and us coming in after what I think is a pretty scary moment in your life, probably doesn’t help.’ 

‘Not really, but maybe Minho was right and I should be a bit more grateful, at least towards my company, that they care enough about me to hire a shit load of bodyguards.’

‘Maybe,’ Jisung smiles. 

‘If you tell Minho I said that, I will kick your ass,’ you threaten. ‘I’m nowhere near ready to be nice to him.’ 

Jisung laughs and holds up his hands. ‘My lips are sealed, I’m just glad you’ve seemed to accept me at least.’ 

‘You’re very easy to like,’ you shrug. ‘And maybe it helps that you also pose as my assistant, so it feels less like you’re watching my every move.’ 

Jisung hums. ‘Maybe, but I’ll be with you just as much, if not more.’ 

For some reason that thought doesn’t bother you as much and you sigh, leaning against the desk. ‘Well, since I like you right now, let me apologize in advance for when I’m in a mood. Caffeine and food usually helps though.’

‘Good to know, are you ready to go over some of our rules now?’ 

‘What if I say no?’ 

Jisung chuckles. ‘I’ll email them to you, print them out and hang them all over your studio and I’ll keep texting you until you read it anyway.’ 

While you only just met him yesterday, you somehow know he would actually do all that. 

‘Fine, tell me.’ 

‘It’s pretty simple actually. You’re not to go anywhere with at least one of us present, even inside the company.’ 

You make a face, but don’t interrupt as Jisung continues. 

‘If you need to go to the bathroom we won’t go in with you obviously, but other than that you shouldn’t be alone unless it’s in the comfort of your own bedroom of course. If you want to go out, just tell us in advance so we can scout the area if needed and make sure there’s enough security. When you want to go somewhere with Felix, Hyunjin or Minho, someone else still needs to go with you so your fans will know you always have a bodyguard.’

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked this a million times already, but is this really necessary? You talk like I’m a fucking royal in line for the throne.’ 

Jisung shrugs. ‘Until Chan and Yoona feel the threats against you are down and there are no more assaults, yes we do think it’s necessary. I know it seems excessive, but trust me that you’re not the only idol who gained a team of bodyguards.’ 

Somehow that thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. It makes sense though, with the increase of accidents and violence against idols, especially the girl groups and solo artists. It’s insane really and it makes you sad to live in a world where people think it’s okay to act like this. 

‘I didn’t know that. I really need more friends in this idol world,’ you mutter, looking down at your hands. 

Sure you met other idols before and while you get along great with a few, they were all in groups and you always feel like the odd one out when you hang out with them. 

Chan comes back inside then, carrying two coffee cups and a brown bag. ‘I come bearing treats.’ 

You share a look with Jisung. ‘Bribing me with caffeine and food, huh I see how it is,’ you joke, remembering what you told Jisung earlier and loving how Chan’s lips immediately turn up in a smile. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re that easy,’ Jisung laughs next to you, poking your side. 

‘Yah!’ you squeak out. 

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. ‘Are you ticklish?’ 

‘No.’ your eyes widen. ‘You just startled me.’ 

No way are you going to let him know this weakness of yours. Besides, you can get crazy violent when someone won’t stop tickling you. You once kicked your uncle in the face when you couldn’t breathe anymore from laughing. 

‘Mhm, sure,’ Jisung grins, but he doesn’t try again and turns to Chan to grab the coffee. ‘Thanks Hyung.’ 

After your second coffee, Chan comes with you to your studio and you spend the rest of the morning working on your new songs with your headphones on. Occasionally you glance up to look at Chan, but never meet his gaze as he quietly works on his laptop. 

At first it goes well, you’re in a nice flow and happy with the results, but then you get to the song you’ve been struggling with for over a month already. There’s something missing, there must be, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. 

‘Ugghh,’ you let out a frustrated groan when you listen to it again, letting your head drop to the desk with a loud thud. 

There’s a headache developing behind your eyes and you blindly reach for your water bottle. Your fingertips touch the bottle, but it’s too far away to actually reach it. With another groan you lift your head and stretch your arm a little further. 

‘You doing okay over there?’ Chan asks from his spot on the couch, his voice sounding far away thanks to your headphones. 

‘Peachy,’ you reply, pulling the bottle towards you with a victorious smile. 

You pull your headphones down to hang around your neck, chug some water and then turn your chair to look at Chan properly. He’s already looking at you, a frown on his face and you can basically taste his disapproval. 

‘Don’t even try and lecture me on working this long without breaks and for not having proper light, I know this headache is my own fault,’ you say before he can even open his mouth to scold you like Faris usually would. 

He blinks in surprise, but then he lets out a laugh and nods. 

‘Alright, I won’t say anything, but do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?’ 

It’s your turn to blink at him now. ‘Huh?’ you let out dumbly. 

Chan laughs again and gets up from the couch, putting his laptop aside. He pulls out the second chair at your desk and sits down next to you, his head tipping towards your computer. 

‘You’re obviously struggling with something. Is it lyrics? The beat?’ 

Your first instinct is to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but he’s looking at you so sincerely that you can’t help but sag your shoulders and give in. 

‘I’m not sure actually, that’s the problem,’ you admit, debating if you want to play the song for him or not. Faris did tell you that Chan, Jisung and Changbin used to make music. Fuck it. You’re going crazy if you don’t fix this anytime soon. ‘Would you like to hear it?’ 

The surprise is clear on Chan’s face, but he nods immediately and holds out his hands for your headphones. Nervous butterflies twirl in your stomach and with a deep breath you hand them to him before you can change your mind. He puts them on and gives you an encouraging smile. 

Biting your lip you press play and watch as his eyes widen when the music starts. It's a catchy beat and you can’t help but smile when his head starts to bop up and down. His face doesn’t give anything away and you nervously play with the bracelets around your wrist as you wait for him to finish. 

‘Wow,’ Chan says, putting the headphones down. ‘I knew you were good, but this..’ he shakes his head with a smile. ‘It’s really good Y/N, like really really good.’ 

You feel your cheeks heating up at his praise. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘I think I know what you mean though,’ Chan says and he points at your laptop. ‘May I?’ 

You frown and look between him and your precious laptop that holds all your hard work. 

‘I think it’s a very easy fix with the beat in the bridge,’ Chan smiles. ‘You can do it yourself, I just want to point out where I think it is.’ 

It’s clear to you he knows what he’s talking about and you’re curious to find out which part he means. You slowly push your laptop over to him and get rewarded with a wide grin. For the next hour the two of you work on the bridge, editing and adjusting the melody. Your cheeks hurt from smiling when the song keeps sounding better with every adjustment you make. 

‘You could be a producer,’ you tease, when Chan offers another idea to add to the song. 

A knock on the door causes the two of you to look up and you don’t know why, but you feel like a kid getting caught stealing candy. It’s not like Chan isn’t allowed to help you, but it hits you then what you’re doing and your body tenses anyways. 

‘Hyung? Noona?’ a deep voice calls out that you immediately recognize as Felix. 

‘Come in,’ you yell, quickly saving the progress of your song and closing your laptop. 

The door opens and Felix sticks his head inside, grinning when he sees you and Chan huddled together at your desk. You quickly jump up, causing both men to laugh at the panicked look on your face. 

‘No worries, I won’t tell Yoona or Minho you’re warming up to Channie Hyung,’ Felix smiles. 

‘That’s not it,’ you blush, turning around to grab your bag and water bottle. ‘I’m late for practice aren’t I?’ 

Felix nods. ‘Minho sent me to get you.’ 

You growl at the sound of his name and Chan snickers, standing up as well. ‘I’ll walk with you and get you some food seeing as you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.’ 

‘You don’t have to, I don’t think I can eat much before dancing anyways or I’ll feel sick.’ 

‘I have a banana in my bag if you want,’ Felix offers, rummaging around in his bag and holding up the yellow fruit for you. 

‘Perfect, thank you Felix,’ you smile, accepting the banana. You turn to Chan as you start to peel it. ‘I promise I’ll eat a proper meal after practice. You should have lunch, I’ll be fine with Felix here, right?’ 

You bite off the tip of the banana as you look at Felix and the blonde nods, his eyes flicking to your mouth for a moment before he blushes and looks at Chan. 

‘We’ll be fine Channie,’ he agrees with you. ‘It’s one floor down and Minho and Jin are already there warming up with the others.’ 

‘Alright, just keep an eye on Minho. These two are likely to bite each other's heads off,’ Chan sighs, patting Felix’s shoulder. 

You snort and take another bite of your banana. 

‘I’ll bite something else if he isn’t careful.’

a/n: I wanted to add dance practise to this chapter, but it already got way longer than I planned so next chapter it is ;) I really hope you still like it, even if it might move a little slow -i guess thats slow burn and a multi chaptered fic tho- big smooch to you all <3 taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[wannabespacesmuggler]

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE ➵ A. HOTCHNER [1]

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You've found yourself spending more time with Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner after a mysterious figure begins following you home. After your stalker's arrest, you believe your freedom is too good to be true. Maybe Arron should've listened.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stalking, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, mentions of Foyet, flashbacks in italics, part one of two

Word Count: 4k

Author’s Note: Your boy has been rewatching Criminal Minds, and Hotch has always been my favorite. After realizing how little Aaron Hotchner fanfic there is on Tumblr, I decided to write my own. This is part one of two — let me know if you want to be tagged in part two.

“You know, you don’t have to bring me coffee every morning.”

You watch Hotch’s eyebrows knit together as a deep stoicism floods his handsome features, but he still graciously takes the small thermos from your hands, which is full of fresh, hot coffee. The two of you have been doing this same song and dance for the past three months — since Hotch started acting as your personal Uber to and from Quantico.

You had noticed a dark vehicle following you on your way home from work several times. At first, you thought you were just being paranoid — a natural side effect of your job with the BAU. But then you started feeling uncomfortable in your own home, as if someone was watching you the entire time. You mentioned it to Garcia offhandedly one morning, and she begged you to tell either Hotch or Morgan. To her dismay, you waved off her concern. In all honesty, you were conflicted. Half of you desperately wanted to tell Hotch and Morgan what was going on — the two men in your life who consistently make you feel safe. However, the other half of you wants to face this fear on your own because what if this is nothing but your own mind playing tricks on you? I mean, you’re an FBI agent after all. You didn’t want to face the embarrassment of telling the two bravest men you’ve ever known that you’re afraid of something lurking in the shadows. 

But then you received the first note. 

You finally had a weekend away from the BAU to relax and catch up on some much needed sleep, but those plans immediately fell apart once you picked up your mail on Saturday morning. There, shoved between your water bill and a Crate and Barrel catalogue was a nondescript envelope with no return address and one word messily written on the front: your name. Inside of the envelope were dozens of photos of you living normally, taken over the course of several months: waiting for the bus on your way to work, grabbing drinks after a long case with Derek and Penelope, relaxing in your own home on your rare days off. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a handwritten note inside with a single sentence written in the same messy handwriting from the front of the envelope: I know who you are.

You immediately called Derek, who was out the door before you could even finish explaining. He spent the short car ride to your townhome scolding you for not telling him about this situation. You shouldn’t be surprised. The two of you met during training at the FBI Academy. Derek Morgan, at face value, was nothing more than a cocky hot shot, but he became your closest companion at the Academy. He’d never really noticed you in class, until one day in hand-to-hand combat training. You were scrappy and eager to prove yourself and Derek watched as you took down the biggest recruit in the class with nothing more than your wits. The odds were stacked against you and yet, you fought like you had the winning hand. In that moment, you earned his undying respect. After the training was done, he watched the man you’d taken down attempt to take a cheap shot at you from behind while you were distracted by a group of recruits. Derek stepped in immediately grabbing his arm before he could get his hands on you. And in that moment, he earned your undying respect. From then on, the two of you were thick as thieves — two bright eyed recruits against the world. You graduated together, kept in touch as the two of you went back to your hometowns, and when Morgan was recruited by Hotch you were the first name he offered when asked if he knew anyone else interested in working for the BAU. So, you shouldn’t be surprised that Derek is overprotective when you tell him about your situation — he’s been looking out for you since the beginning.

Derek took a look at the note and photos when he arrived at your townhome and immediately knew that this was not a situation that the two of you could handle alone. No, you needed the team to help investigate this. But first, you needed to call Hotch. Hotch was, arguably, more concerned than Derek when you called and explained the situation. After the momentary shock wore off, Hotch ordered you to meet him at Quantico with Derek.

Everything after that felt like a blur — as if your life was suddenly set to fast forward. 

Derek helped you gather all your important belongings into a couple of bags and loaded them into his car before heading off to Quantico. To no one’s surprise, Hotch beat the two of you there and immediately asked to see the envelope when you entered the bullpen. You watched as Hotch spread the photos out on an empty table. His brow furrowed and his face twisted into a tight scowl, as his eyes carefully studied every image. Hotch enlisted your help creating a timeline of the photos as Derek called the rest of the team. They arrived over the course of the next hour: Rossi first with an ample amount of coffee and Garcia not far behind. The team got to work finishing the timeline, while Reid memorized every aspect of the note and Morgan went through a cognitive interview with you. Eventually, you all hit a wall. Without a license plate number or a physical description, the profile was just too vague and the search parameters were too wide. Hotch eventually sent the rest of the team home, except for Derek. He ushered both of you into his office and began making a plan of immediate action: getting you set up in an FBI safe house, making sure that there is a constant patrol outside of the premises, setting up a carpool system to and from work.

“Just think of it as a thank you for driving me every day.”

Hotch scoffs at your words before taking a long sip and putting the thermos down in his cup holder. His expression notably softens as he regards you once more. At some point during your late night and early morning one-on-one drives, your relationship with Hotch moved from strictly professional into something much more tender. And you aren’t the only one aware of this not so subtle change. On the rare mornings that Hotch cannot pick you up due to a conflict with Jack’s schooling, Morgan picks you up and grills you about the nature of your relationship with Aaron Hotchner. 

“You know you don’t have to thank me, right?��

A small smile spreads across your face at Hotch’s question. You know you don’t have to thank him, not only is it his job to ensure your safety, but you are also fully aware that he likes the responsibility. It’s his natural instinct to protect you. And it’s a different type of protection than Derek’s brotherly, reactive protectiveness. Derek steps in without a second thought when you’re in danger. Whereas Hotch has a watchful, proactive protectiveness. He has a knack for sensing danger before there are any warning signs. You often feel his eyes on you in the bullpen, on the jet, and in the field, deciphering your facial expressions and body language. 

“I know, but still.”

Hotch rolls his eyes as he pulls out of the driveway, but you notice the ghost of a smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. It doesn’t take long to get to work from the safe house, it’s conveniently almost halfway between Quantico and Hotch’s apartment. What you don’t know is that it isn’t convenient, it’s purposeful. Although Hotch respects and trusts Derek almost more than anyone else and knows he’d protect you with his life, this is something he needed to do. He’s not sure if he could sleep at night if he wasn’t the one making sure that you got back to the safe house at the end of the day or the one checking in with the patrols every morning. 

Hotch parks in his designated spot and climbs out of the vehicle, grabbing both his bag and yours before walking into the building with you side-by-side. Your routine is second nature now. Hell, it’s hard to remember when you didn’t spend this much time with Hotch. He’s become somewhat of a safety net for you. No matter what’s happening with your life or with a case, Hotch is always there at the end of the day to talk it out. 

The bullpen is bustling with activity as the two of you enter. Derek’s voice cuts through the commotion and he motions you both to the conference room. 

“We got him.”

Your brow furrows at Derek’s statement and Hotch’s expression matches your own. 

“We just arrested a white male, early thirties, driving a black four door sedan near your townhome with various photographs of you in the back seat. Reid’s conducting a handwriting test now to compare to the letters we’ve received, but we’re sure we got him.”

Tears well up in your eyes at Derek’s words and you pull him into a tight hug. It was beginning to feel like you’d be in that safe house forever. Although your stalker has always been a top priority for the team, there were always other cases that needed your attention. At first, your stalker was sending letters to you almost every day, either to your townhome or direct to Quantico. But as their contact slowed down over time and there was less and less evidence to gather intel from. You pull away from Derek’s embrace and immediately glance behind your shoulder, to Hotch. A bright grin has spread across your face and Hotch has a hard time remembering the last time he’s seen you this happy.

Hotch had a front seat ticket to your descent into a reasonable madness. Watching as you supplemented your non-existent sleep schedule with a staggering amount of caffeine. He understands your situation better than anyone else. He’s fairly certain he never got a full night’s rest when Foyet was after him — reviewing case files late into the night and early into morning until they were burned into his memory. He knew based on the dark circles under your eyes and your ever decreasing energy level that you’d been doing the same. Hotch kept an eye on you, but didn’t intervene. 

Not until one late night about a month and a half after you were moved to the safe house. The two of you were the only ones left at the office. You had told Hotch that you needed to stay late to finish the paperwork that’s been piling up on your desk. He knows that both Morgan and Reid offered to take some of it off of your plate, but you’re stubborn and you won’t let your personal setbacks affect your professional life. As Hotch finished the last of his paperwork, his eyes landed on you. You were sitting at your desk, sandwiched between Morgan and Reid’s, with an astonishing amount of case files. Hotch was about to busy himself with something else since you were still focused intently on your own work, but stopped as he noticed your pencil snap due to the intense amount of pressure you’d been writing with. It was such a simple inconvenience, but it pulled you into a sudden tailspin. You threw the pencil down onto your desk angrily before pushing your chair out and rushing to the break room.

Hotch waited for a moment before following you. He found you sitting on the floor, back against the counter, and head in your hands. Without a word, he slid down next to you and simply sat shoulder-to-shoulder with you. Your breathing was uneven and you suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed that Hotch just watched you lose your shit over something as simple as a pencil.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Hotch shook his head at your apology and covered your hands with his once began nervously picking at your fingers which were already worked red and raw. You lifted your head up to look at him and Hotch’s heart damn near stopped once he noticed the tears streaming down your face. 

“You don’t have to apologize. I know how hard this is.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at his words and you let out a shaky breath. 

“I just feel stupid right now, Hotch. I shouldn’t be this upset over a pencil.”

“We both know this isn’t about the pencil.”

For a moment you both just sat in comfortable silence, as you relished in the warmth of Hotch’s large hand around yours. Hotch has always been an incredible profiler — there’s no one else on the team that can manage to get inside an unsub's head like him. But you think that maybe the person he’s always been best at reading is you. You have known Derek Morgan for over a decade, but no one knows you better than Aaron Hotchner.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Hotch.”

Your defeated tone made Hotch’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest. This wasn’t like you. You weren’t one to simply lay down and take the punches. No, Hotch had always admired your resilience. But there’s only so much one person can take, and you were at your breaking point.

“I know. But you have to take care of yourself or at least let me — let us — help you.”

His words made him cringe slightly. He’s tried to stay professional during all of this, but it has been difficult. It had been easy covering up his soft spot for you when he only saw you at work, but the lines between work life and personal life had blurred. At first he had simply just driven you to and from work, but after a particularly bad night during your second week in the safe house Hotch started coming in after work every day to search the premises for you. And it quickly became a slippery slope after that. He started staying a little later day by day and then, a month in, you asked if he wanted to stay for a drink and he knew the professional thing to do was to say no, but he was enjoying his time with you too much to be professional. So now here he was, the unit chief of the BAU teetering on the edge of something a little too personal with one of his agents. 

“First things first, you need to get some sleep.”

Hotch shakes off the memory and stiffens his posture. This is exciting news, but as the unit chief he needs to make sure this man’s arrest and interrogation isn’t rushed. He wants nothing more than for you to feel safe in your own home again; however, in order to do that he needs the team to do this correctly. He starts giving orders to Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss before turning to you.

“You know, you don’t have to sit in on the interrogation, right?”

You know it’s supposed to be a question, but his tone is matter-of-fact. The underlying meaning of his words is clear to you: it’s better that you’re not there. It’s not patronizing, no his words are laced with care and concern. He’s trying to do what’s best for you, without taking away your autonomy. You give him a nod before responding. 

“I’ve got some desk work to get done, anyways.”

You turn on your heel, grabbing a stack of case files from Derek’s desk on the way. With your back turned to the conference room, Hotch looks at the only person left: JJ. She’s looking at him expectantly as the last member of the BAU without a plan of action. 

“JJ, I need you to do me a favor. Keep an eye on them, okay?”

JJ watches as Hotch’s eyes find you at your desk, before returning back to her. She raises an eyebrow quizzically, but nods at his request. You start working diligently on Derek’s unfinished paperwork, but your curiosity peaks as JJ approaches you. To your surprise, she simply slides into Reid’s desk and starts getting to work on her own files. You brush off your curiosity as you’re ultimately glad to have some company. The two of you work quietly together for the next couple of hours while the team works to put your stalker behind bars. Sometime after midday, JJ finally looks up from her work and gives you a gentle smile.

“Want to take a break and grab some coffee?”

You let out a sigh as the words leave JJ’s mouth and you close the file in your hands. 

“Please. My eyes are killing me.”

The two of you make your way to the break room and JJ pours three mugs full of coffee. Before you can question her about the third mug, Hotch’s figure sidles next to you. JJ slides two mugs towards the both of you, before giving you a knowing look and making her way back to the bullpen. You grab cream and sugar, putting an ample amount into your mug as Hotch takes his black. He could laugh at the juxtaposition: bitter and sweet. After taking a sip from your mug, you place it on the counter and turn your attention to Hotch.

“Good news or bad news?”

You wish you could read his face, but his workplace stoicism has settled deep into his features. That is, until his lip quirks up every so slightly into a small, lopsided smile. 

“We got him.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief as you take in his words. You’re not quite sure how to react at this moment. A part of you is still in disbelief that this is actually happening, but then your posture relaxes as the severe anxiety you’ve experienced for three months straight starts to dissipate. Without thinking, you lean your head forward to meet Hotch’s shoulder and wrap your arms around his waist. Hotch looks around the break room which is uncharacteristically empty before wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. 

“It just feels too good to be true.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but he still manages to make them out. And his arm tightens around your shoulders in response. He knows. Of course he knows. Even though he killed Foyet with his own hands, he still finds himself looking over his shoulder for the man. That anxiety — that fear — nestles deep into your bones and stays with you like a parasite. Hotch knows he’s still working through his own trauma, and he’ll stand by you as a helpful, steady hand as you begin healing yourself. You reluctantly pull away from Hotch and take a step back.

“So I can go home?”

Hotch nods at your question.

“I can help you pack up your things when we get back to the safe house.”

You shake your head at his offer. There aren’t enough personal items at your safe house to warrant help and the thought of independence tastes sweet on your tongue.

“Actually, I’m going to do this on my own.”

Hotch’s brow furrows, but you interrupt him before he can protest.

“Aaron, I haven’t been able to do anything by myself for three months. I need this.”

His face softens at your words. He knows he can’t force you to have an escort. After all, the threat has been neutralized. But there’s still this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. This need to hold you close and keep you safe. But this feeling doesn't stem from his position as unit chief. No, this feeling is due to the affection that has taken hold of his heart. Affections he’s been trying to keep at bay long before he started acting as your personal bodyguard. He not only fears for your safety, but also for the change that is about to happen in your relationship with him. You don’t need him around anymore. Hotch will spend his mornings taking Jack to school and you’ll start going out with Derek and Penelope after work again. Things will go back to normal — and that’s what he’s afraid of. But that’s not fair to you, so he bites down his emotions and gives you a curt nod. 

“I understand.”

The hollowness in his voice doesn’t escape you and for a moment, you fear that you’ve hurt him with your decision. But why would that make sense? You know Hotch has missed spending time with his son and now all that time he’s had to waste protecting you can be spent on Jack. Still, there’s something in his tone, the way that his words are void of all emotion, that rubs you the wrong way. But he turns to make his way back to his office before you can question him further. And you fear that this unspoken, tender thing you built with Aaron Hotchner over the past three months left with him. You swallow your heartbreak and go to find Derek.

Hotch collapses into his desk chair with a heavy sigh and attempts to busy himself with the paperwork he snatched off your desk. It helps for a few hours, but you’re there in the back of his mind the entire time. He knows you’re right — you need to feel independent again. But something you said keeps nagging him: it just feels too good to be true. He looks down at his phone, if he leaves now he’ll make it home in time to eat dinner with Jack. As he grabs his coat from the back of his chair, he sends you a quick text to ease his worries. It’s simple, just asking if you made it home safely. He doesn’t wait for your response, instead he pockets his phone, puts on his jacket, and makes his way to his car.

His night passes quickly as he enjoys a meal with his son and helps him with the last of his homework. It isn’t until he puts Jack to bed, that he finally looks at his phone again. His anxiety spikes as he notices that you didn’t respond. Hell, you didn’t even read the message. He quickly dials Morgan’s number, hoping you’d simply gone out with him and Penelope to celebrate your newfound freedom. He picks up on the second ring and Hotch asks if he’s heard from you.

“No, but Garcia and I are on our way to their place.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Can you tell them to check their phone when you get there?”

“Will do, Hotch.”

Hotch mutters a thank you before hanging up. He distracts himself with dishes as waits for your response. Suddenly, embarrassed at how needy he’s become. He craves your attention in a way that makes him feel vulnerable. Finally, his phone vibrates against the kitchen counter, but to his surprise it’s Morgan’s name that lights up the screen.

“Hotch, we’ve got a problem.”

Hotch’s heart rate quickens at Morgan’s words. His tone is sharper than the last time they spoke, laced with a concern that mirrors his own. 

“What’s wrong Morgan?”

“They aren’t here, but their phone is and the door has been kicked in.”

Hotch’s heart stops, and for a moment he genuinely worries that he might be experiencing cardiac arrest. But Morgan’s voice calling his name pulls him out of his terror.

“Hotch, I’m pretty sure they’ve been taken.”

“I’ll meet you there in 20. Call the rest of the team.”

Hotch hangs up before Morgan has a chance to respond. 

He should have trusted his instincts. Everything about the arrest this morning seemed too perfect — as if your stalker was dropped in front of them wrapped in a bow. He tries to ignore your words still nagging at him: it just feels too good to be true. But a wave of nausea suddenly hits him as he realizes you were right.

This was too good to be true because they got the wrong man.