#he gives into peer pressure hes the worst

[alexanderdarkomorningstar]

Thinking about the time my ex actually believed my alter ego was a whole ass person I was having an affair with 💀

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Boys

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Boys are the worst

When kids are little, football teams are usually mixed.

Boys and girls.

Girls and boys.

Magda knows this. She doesn't particularly care that they're not separated. It's not really needed at this point when kids haven't gone through puberty and there's not much of a difference physically between them.

She has no problems with that.

She does have a problem with the parents of boys who think the team shouldn't be mixed.

"Good girl!" She says as you make another save.

It's been nearly a year since the move to Germany and it had taken that amount of time for her and Pernille to find you a little football team to join.

They don't want you at the Bayern academy. In fact, they don't want you at any academy until you're a bit older, when you're absolutely sure that football is what you want to do.

But this is a nice compromise.

You still get to play football but without all the pressure to perform that academies provide.

"Just push her over!" One of the dads from the opposite team yells," Are you really letting a girl beat you?!"

Ordinarily, Magda would have seen red but after the humiliating time she had the last time this happened and was subsequently told to wait in her car, she's not eager for a repeat.

So, Magda just starts clapping louder and yelling out her praise as you pass the ball off to one of the other kids.

This is a kid's football match so she can forgive a few moments of physicality. Kids can get a bit aggressive and it's clear, even to Magda's own biased eyes that you're leagues ahead of all of your peers.

In fact, that makes her puff out her chest a bit in pride.

Of course her little girl is the best one here by miles.

Your talent is obvious and your clear idolisation and perfect listening to the goalkeepers in your life has you more than prepared for a bunch of untrained kids trying to play a game of football.

So, all in all, Magda can forgive a bit of physicality.

What she can't forgive is the little boy who tugs at your hair after you save his weak shot on goal.

"Ow!" You yelp and Magda's hands clench into fists.

"That's got to be a red!" She heckles the ref, who looks to be barely out of puberty and not paid enough to deal with the yelling of parents. "Give him a red!"

"Pull her hair harder, son!" The boy's father says and while Magda can't hit a child, she can definitely hit an adult.

She shoves him back, crossing the field in quick strides to catch him off guard.

He stumbles a little before his face twists into outrage, spitting right at Magda's feet. "Watch it, bitch!"

The resemblance between you and Magda is uncanny so it's clear he knows which child is hers.

"If your kid can't take a bit of hair-pulling then maybe she should stop playing a boy's game and go back to doing her nails."

"Watch it!" Magda snaps back," Or your son is going to watch his dad lose to a girl as well."

"Go back to the kitchen!" He says back and Magda rolls her eyes," Football's a men's game!"

She expected a better insult.

At some point, they've started yelling at each other and the poor teenage referee has to slide between them to make sure no one starts swinging.

"Go to your cars!" He says," You-You can't argue in front of kids!"

So much for Magda not getting sent off again.

"Yeah!" The dad clearly doesn't know how to take a hint. "Come back when you learn how to play the game!"

Magda stalks away, throwing over her shoulder," Come back when you've won a league title!"

Magda stews in her car, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't even turn on the radio, split between anger and working out how she's going to avoid telling Pernille she got sent to the side-lines again.

You practically skip over to the car, escorted by one of the parents that Magda's yet to learn the name of.

"Hey," She says as you pull yourself into your seat, leaning back so she can buckle your seatbelt up," How was the game?"

"You got told off," You say instead.

"I did."

"You should have punched him in the nose."

"Violence isn't the answer to arguments, princesse."

You frown. "Georgia told me that the only way to deal with mean men is to prove you're better or punch them in the nose. I proved I was better. You should have punched him in the nose."

"Of course Georgia told you that," Magda mutters under her breath before raising her voice again," But how was the match after I was sent away?"

"It was good," You say, rifling through your bag for a snack," I saved a penalty."

"You did?!" A pang of disappointment stirs in Magda's stomach. "I'm sorry I couldn't see it."

"It was the boy that pulled my hair," You say, trying to stab your straw into your juice box," He cried."

"Good."

"Yeah and then before Miss Sophia brought me over to you, he gave me a flower and told me I was cool."

Magda nearly slams on the breaks then and there. "What?"

"Yeah. It was kind of weird because he was still crying. Boys are weird."

"Yes. Yes they are."

"Are you going to get sent off next match too? Because if you are, can Momma come to my matches too? I want someone to be able to watch me."

[cakelitter]

Hearts and Badges Rookie! Leon x fem! reader

warning: NSFW, unprotected sex, mastubation, semi-public sex

summary: Rookie cop Leon gets the normal cop life he deserves.

words: 3.1k

Joining the R.P.D you knew you’re going to be up for many tasks, but didn’t expect babysitting to be one of them. Leon S.Kennedy, a new member in your team. Top of his class back at police academy, savior complex, and is following you around the police station like a lost puppy.

Well, he was told to do that anyways. Chief thought you’d be the best to show him around on his first day, as if everything in this department doesn’t get shoved into your lap to deal with. You’re nice, you promise you are. But god, it’s so hard to not lose your shit under the pressure your under. “Diamonds are made under pressure”, your balding at the ripe age of 23.

Showing him around and teaching him how things are done here, wouldn’t be too hard if he didn’t have room temperature IQ. You were explaining to him to how to file reports and submit them on the computer for 15 minutes. And when you’re done with your explanation, you turn around to see if he understood, all you get in return is an empty stare. Not a single thought behind those blue eyes. You’re positive at this point that he uses his maximum brain capacity for his lame ass jokes.

“Okay so, all of your guns and gears are placed in your assigned locker. Yours happens to be 209 right over there” you say the last part while pointing at the end of the row of lockers. His expression looks… is he constipated? Why does he look like he’s holding something back? Is he confused about something but is too shy to ask?

“Is there anything you wanna say?”

He stays quiet for a moment then speaks.

“What do you call a gun that likes to party? A shot gun.”

“…”

It took all of your willpower to not grab your gun from your holster and end it all. There is no way he said that. Your expression remains bland, trying to decipher what was his thought process when he decided to say that. His cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he apologizes under his breath. You nod pursing your lips and move on to the next room with him following behind.

Worst part of it all, is that he’s cute. Dirty blonde hair, puffy lips, sky-blue eyes, and a boy band haircut. All giving a boy next door look to him. He has the girls at the station gushing over him, as if they aren’t pushing 30, and he’s completely oblivious of it all. You had the misfortune of watching Summer the Slut Miller flirt with him, as if fucking the whole station wasn’t enough. Biting her teeth into his neck marking him as her next victim with each hint of hers flying right above his head. Either her tits short-circuited his brain or he’s just that clueless, telling you how nice she was after she left.

Although your task of training him is complete and he graduated from your daycare, he still follows you around. Attached to your hip is an understatement, it feels like he’s riding on your back at all times. “What are you doing?” “Where are you going?” “Can I come with you?” He talks to you so much; you’re starting to hear his voice and stupid remarks even when he’s not there. He’s basically haunting you but the motherfucker isn’t even dead. God forbid he dies, the only thing stopping him from following you home is his morals. As soon as he becomes a ghost, nothing is stopping him.

It’s not like he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to at the station. He made more friends in the 2 months he’s been here, more than the amount you’ve made in the past 2 years. Leon is pretty popular in the station now adays, he’s nice and hardworking, everyone likes him. You are nice too, but instead of being invited to Anderson’s grill party, you get peer pressured into taking on tasks that aren’t yours in the first place. While Leon got assigned the title of the happy go lucky rookie, you on the other hand got assigned the title of… nothing. You doubt anyone other than your teammates and chief know your name.

And as a result of that, here you are sitting at your desk writing another report while everyone’s out on lunch break. The sound of your keyboard keys clicking fills the silent office as you type away. Your eyes are genuinely starting to get fuzzy from staring at your screen all day today. Amidst your endless typing, you hear the sound of boots slowly approaching your desk.

“What do you want rookie.” You say without even looking up. Of course it’s Leon, who else would even bother walking anywhere near their desk during break. Not that your colleagues do much anyways.

“Mike got some donuts for everyone; I brought you one. I got you this cause I’ve seen you eat it before, figured it might be your favorite.”

You look up from your screen for the first time in what feels like ages, and your eyes land at the donut that is placed on your desk, with a tissue paper beneath it, then back at Leon who’s now standing in front of your desk. It was your favorite, and it actually came at the perfect time. You barely slept last night so you could use some sugar.

“Thanks Leon.” You reply with a weak smile and he reciprocates with a smile as well. One that isn’t quite as tired of yours. You take a bite out of the donut then start typing again.

“Spending another lunch break here again?” He asks staring at you then at the cute decorations you have around your desk. You spend more time at this desk than at home, so you might as well make it a bit more pleasant to look at.

You sigh defeatedly and nod, as he leans on the office desk in front of yours. He looks at you and purses his lips together, aware of the bullshit you go through every day.

“Peterson is having a party over at his house this weekend, you coming?”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh.”

You never were, it’s not like you’d go anyway.  Parties are not your thing, especially with this much work load. As soon as you come home you shower before passing out on your bed at 10 o’clock sharp. He starts telling you about some random thing he saw at patrol last night, giving you a report that you hopefully don’t need to type for him as well. You honestly doubt you’ve ever seen him converse with anyone else at the station as much as he does with you. Maybe it’s because you were the first to introduce yourself to him here, or maybe he’s just clingy, or both.

A couple minutes later, you’re finally done with your report and just need to print it out. You press print and wait for the printer at the end of the room to start printing it. But it doesn’t, something’s wrong. You sigh and slump onto your chair.

“I’ll go check” Leon says as he walks over to the device. “It’s out of paper.”

Great, these assholes can’t even bother to refill the paper.

“Where are you going?”

“Supply closet, don’t follow me.”

You say, grabbing your keys and leaving the room. It’s not long before the sound of boots start following up behind you, not surprised. Reaching the supply closet you unlock it and start looking for paper in the dusty and dim place. Crouched down while you look at the bottom shelf, you sense a presence at the door frame behind you.

“What part of ‘don’t follow me’ is difficult for you to understand rookie?”

“…I’m bored.”

“Then at least come here and make yourself useful.”

You hear him approach then crouch down next to you. The sound of the plastic bag covered items rustling fills the tiny space as you both continue searching. Shouldn’t these closets be full with paper anyway? But instead, all you find is old reports and boxes of pens, tape, and paper clips. You mentally cross your fingers and hope you find them here; you’re not in the mood to walk up 2 flights of stairs to the other storage room.

“Amelia asked me out on a date.”

Leon says after a while. Your expression remains the same, that was random, but you’re used to him spitting out nonsense at this point.

“S.T.A.R.S office Amelia or West office Amelia?”

“West office Amelia.” He whispers back.

“What’d you say?”

“I said no.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and curiosity. You don’t know much about her, but heard that she’s sweet. You look over to your side at him. His expression is hard to see in the dim room, but he doesn’t turn around to face you and instead keeps searching.

“Why? She’s pretty.” You reply, as you retract your hands back from the shelf and stop searching.

“Yeah, she is… but I’m just-” He says before he stops himself.

Oh, now you’re interested. Papers and reports can wait, but Leon talking about his love life to you is something he has yet to overshare about.

“You’re…?” You ask, hand rolling forwards gesturing him to continue. He stays quiet for a minute; you doubt he’s even searching anymore but is simply trying to distract himself.

“I’m interested in someone else.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock. Did Summer finally blind him with her ass? No, he’s not the type to go for these types of women. You’ve seen him talk with Emma at the library a few times, and she giggles a little too hard at his jokes. Could it be her? Or maybe it’s someone you don’t know? Either way, you want to know who managed to win over the heart of prince charming over here.

“Who?” Alright, usually you don’t really care when someone tells you life updates or station gossip. But you’re a sucker for romantic drama. A huge part of it is because your love life is as nonexistent as Leon’s ability to take a hint, but that’s besides the point.

The rustling caused by Leon’s hands stop and he turns around and faces you. The light from outside from the hallway seeps into the dingy room highlighting a part of his face. The two of you stare at each other for a couple of seconds before he speaks.

“I don’t think she likes me; it doesn’t matter.”

“How can you be so sure? Tell me and I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

The two of you sound like elementary students whispering about their crushes and pinky promising to keep it a secret. Except you’re not, and you don’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of it. He contemplates for a bit, biting his lip.

…

“I like you.”

The three words slip out of his mouth and you can hear the sound of glass shattering. You? He likes you? There is no way, how can he possibly…

It feels like you got slapped in the face, and the pieces all fall in place. You kept talking about him missing hints and being so socially unaware when you were doing the same thing. You, out of all the women at the station who are fighting over him, he chooses the one that has been barely giving him attention at all. Men are interesting creatures. He notices your silence and starts speaking.

“Your just really cool and hardworking, I couldn’t- I’m sorry if you feel-”

You kiss him.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done till it’s too late. Why did you even do that? Sure, you do find him cute, and his jokes started growing on you, and you’re actually secretly happy that he keeps you company-

Yeah fine, you like him too.

His lips feel soft as they start to kiss yours back, his hot breath fanning out on your skin. He starts leaning in more into your touch, letting out a soft whine doing so. You pull away slowly, as your eyes meet with his once again. He’s shocked? Happy? You can’t quiet pinpoint what it is exactly.

“You al-”

“Shut up.” You interrupt again, pulling him in by his vest and he crashes his lips into yours. His eyes flutter close as the kiss transitions from passionate to fiery, his hand reaches out and intertwines with yours, thumb caressing it gently. While his other hand is situated on the ground next to your hip providing him with support to kiss you even deeper. His tongue nervously enters your mouth and you accept it. Your heart is doing backflips from how fast things are moving, or you’re having stroke.

He helps you get up while your kiss is still ongoing and guides you to stand near the corner of one of the shelves, his hand shuts the closet’s door. You moan softly into his mouth as he grabs your hip. One of your hands is places on his neck, thumb caressing it, while the other is placed on his chest. His dick is pressed up against your abdomen, you can already feel how rock solid it is and you have barely even touched him yet.

Both of your mouths separate and he lifts up your shirt with one of his hands and starts kissing your breasts and your abdomen, grabbing the hair on the back of his head as you bite your lip. His kisses are abrupt, and all over the place almost as if he can’t believe that this is actually happening. He’s clearly pent up, or just really excited to have you like this.

Getting up, and letting your shirt fall back to its place, he leans into your neck placing open mouthed kisses there. Hot shaky breath making you shiver. You feel his hand grab yours and guides you towards his clothed cock before whispering in your ear.

“Please touch me.”

You comply, palming him through his pants as he groans like he’s in pain. Leon S. Kennedy is asking- no begging you to touch him in a staff closet was not on your bucket list for this year.

“Yea- Fuck yeah just like this.”

He ruts his hips into your hand and his eyes lock with yours. He looks like he’s not even with you anymore. Completely blissed out from the feeling of your hand on his dick. The sight alone has slick pooling on the gusset of your panties as he starts kissing your neck again. Your head falls back as he kisses and sucks on the sensitive flesh so desperately.

Your hand abandons his boner and starts unbuckling his belt, the sound of his leather belt coming undone is then followed by his pants dropping to his boots, while your hand slips under his boxers pulling his dick out. So much precums it’s practically dripping. Your hand squeezes the base a bit and starts stroking him as his eyes roll to the back of his head. Skin hot, mouth open, brows furrowed while your hands continue their motion, up and down his length.

His hands fumble with the buttons of your pants and pull them down along with your underwear. His hand reaches for your cunt, fingers running through the slit collecting the fluid on his fingertips, before rubbing your clit. If anyone walks in, you’re both so done for, your hands on his dick and his fingers nearly inside of you.

He removes your hand off him and places it on his shoulder. Grabbing his cock himself, he teases your entrance, other hand grabbing one of your thighs pulling it towards him, giving him better access. His tip nudges your clit a few times before penetrating you. You both let out a whine, before he bottoms out completely. Chest to chest, face to face, your fingers snake up the back of his soft hair.

“Thought about this every day, wanted you for so long.” He confesses under his breath, and you pull him in for another kiss. His hips start moving, the tip of his cock hitting the right spot thanks to the position you’re in. The wet sounds in the closet are then joined with the sound of your colleagues chatting and laughing while walking into the hallway.

“Leo-”

He bullies himself into you once more making you change your mind about ever stopping.

“Please, I need you so bad.” He whimpers grabbing onto you so tight like you might run away, as he keeps drilling into you. The pleasure is starting to get more amplified at this new pace. You place your hand over your mouth muffling your moans and Leon bites your shoulder to muffle his.

The smell of sex fills the small space, hips smashing against yours like your colleagues aren’t a few feet away. Your hand caresses his face delicately as he places his forehead onto yours, tears beading on his waterline as the pleasure gets overwhelming. Your hand drops down to your clit stimulating it, making your peak approach faster.

“Leon, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods eagerly, eyes fixated on your hand and the point connecting the two of you. “Almost there too.”

He struggles to form the words as your heat squeezes him tightly, you can feel him throb inside of you. Seconds later you cum, as Leon’s eyes drink up your blissed out expression. Eyes lidded, head mindlessly moving side to side, body tensing up before going limb. Only for him to follow you a millisecond later, feeling his sticky hot release coating you walls. Babbling nonsense about how good you feel, how hot you are and so on. He continues fucking both of you through your orgasms as a white-ring forms around the base of his dick, that he couldn’t help but admire, taking a mental screenshot.

He stays in you for a moment as the two of you catch your breaths, looking up into your eyes and kissing the corner of your mouth. You smile at him, and he like always reciprocates. Eventually, he pulls out of you and quickly helps put your panties back on before your mixed fluids start dripping out. Soon enough, you both are fully dressed and you decide that its best to wait for everyone to leave before heading out.

“…There are no cameras in here, right?” He whispers looking around the space.

 “Of course there is, there are cameras everywhere.” His face, although you can’t see it well, you can sense it going pale. His mouth opening and closing without words coming you, almost like a fish.

“God, you’re gullible.” You say with a chuckle before opening the door and checking if the coast is clear before you step out. A smile forms on his face in relief, following closely after you. And you both head back to work… Only for you to go back 3 minutes later to grab those papers.

Divider by:2 @superawesomelurkaccount

[reidsbookclub]

Vows of Rivalry

Authors Note: MY FIRST AARON FIC AHH!! Idk what is scarier the fact that this is FINALLY going out to the world or the fact that my first Aaron fic does not follow cannon events. Either way I would really appreciate any feedback you guys can give me. gif credit to original creator. I had it saved on my laptop so I really do not remember

special thanks to @boldlyvoid for beta reading the first draft of this fic. pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Without further ado here is Vows of Rivalry.

Mock trial season. Every law student’s worst nightmare. Except for one.

Most students dreaded the possibility of being pitted against Aaron Hotchner—reigning champion since his first year. Hotch was renowned for his ruthless precision, impeccable argumentation, and the intimidating scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. But for Y/N Y/L/N, the prospect of facing Aaron was anything but dreadful. In fact, she relished it.

She could see it now: his jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing whenever she’d poke holes in his carefully laid arguments. For her, it wasn’t just about winning. It was about watching Aaron Hotchner, the unflappable law prodigy, completely lose his composure.

That day was no different. The mock trial courtroom buzzed with the tension of impending arguments, the air crackling with unspoken competition. Y/N adjusted her blazer, her eyes scanning the room for her favorite opponent. There he was, already seated with his ever-present briefcase of legal weapons, jaw set and brows furrowed as he reviewed his notes. She couldn’t help the smirk tugging at her lips as she walked to her seat across from him.

The mock trial had barely begun, but the room felt like a pressure cooker. Y/N had just finished outlining her opening argument when Aaron stood to cross-examine her witness. As always, he delivered each question with surgical precision, his voice sharp, his gaze colder than a winter morning.

But she wasn’t backing down.

“Your Honor,” she interrupted smoothly, “he simply doesn’t have the evidence necessary for—”

“Evidence?” Aaron interrupted, his calm demeanor finally cracking. He looked like he was about to explode, his face flushed with frustration. “Evi—Jesus, woman, you make me so annoyed sometimes. I just want to very publicly divorce you!”

The courtroom fell silent, and Y/N stared at him, stunned by his outburst. Then, instead of being thrown off, she smiled. “You’d have to marry me first, Hotchner.”

Aaron stormed off, leaving the room in a buzz of shock. The judge cleared his throat awkwardly and called for a recess, but all Y/N could think about was how much she had enjoyed watching him unravel.

Neither of them realizing that the judge for this mock trial, their peer Marcus,  had a murderous look trained to where Aaron had left. 

Flash forward — Present day

The BAU office was quieter than usual, the team scattered as they worked on different aspects of their current case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, tapping his pen absently against a case file, the rhythm of his movements betraying his usual calm. His mind wasn’t on the case—not entirely. Instead, it kept wandering back to Y/N. Their history, their rivalry in law school, the way she always managed to get under his skin.

His mind began to drift to that impulsive night in Vegas that had been the culmination of all that tension

The neon lights of Las Vegas blared like a siren song, luring Y/N and Aaron into a world of wildness and excess. After an exhausting week of mock trials, they and their law school classmates had decided to blow off some steam and take a trip to Vegas of all places.

“Okay, Hotchner, let’s see if you can handle another round!” Y/N challenged, her voice slightly slurred as she leaned against the bar, her hair a tousled mess.

Aaron rolled his eyes, his own drink barely clutched in his hand. “I think you’ve already had enough, Y/N. You know, you might actually lose your pants at the blackjack table this time.”

“Ha! Please, I’m a betting goddess! You’re just jealous because I outsmarted you in court last week!” she shot back, leaning in closer, her breath a mixture of fruity cocktails and determination.

“Outsmarted me? You mean you got lucky!” Aaron replied, smirking. 

“You know what? Let’s get married!”  she taunted, downing the last of her drink. 

“What?” Aaron burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Y/N declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s do it. Vegas style! You and me! A wedding! Right now!”

He glanced at her, both amused and wary. “You realize that you’re completely drunk out of your mind, right? You know what they say about Vegas weddings. And I don’t want to be part of a ‘you’re-who-I-got-drunk-with’ story.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, Hotch! It’ll be epic! Plus, we’ll have a great story to tell during our class reunion 10 years from now about how we got wasted and tied the knot on a whim!”

“Yeah, and how you lost all your money at blackjack the same night!” he shot back, unable to hold back his laughter.

“Shut up!” she laughed, but then her expression shifted to one of playful defiance. “I dare you to come with me! We’ll show everyone that even stoic Aaron Hotcher  can do something crazy with the right company! Or are you too scared”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “You think I’m scared? You really want to drag me into this madness?”

“Absolutely!” she insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the chapel like a determined toddler. “C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll wake up tomorrow, laugh about it!”

“Or we might actually end up married,” he replied, a mixture of thrill and dread filling him as they reached the chapel’s entrance. “What’s your plan if we do?”

“Um… we’ll just call it a really fun mistake!” she quipped, giggling as they stumbled into the small, tacky chapel. Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” played in the background, setting the perfect absurd tone.

Inside, they approached the altar, barely able to contain their laughter. The Elvis impersonator greeted them, his eyes twinkling as he took in their disheveled appearance.

“Welcome to the chapel, lovebirds!” he boomed, clearly accustomed to drunken couples making rash decisions.

“Lovebirds?” Aaron muttered under his breath, shooting Y/N a glance. 

“Shhh! Just go with it,” she hissed, nudging him with her elbow. “It’ll be fun!”

The officiant cleared his throat. “Do you, Y/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Sure, why not?” Y/N said with a grin, her tone decidedly nonchalant. “I mean, he does make a decent man most of the time.”

“Y/N!” Aaron exclaimed, mortified and amused at her flippancy.

“And do you, Aaron, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant continued, a bemused smile on his face.

Aaron shrugged dramatically, looking at Y/N with exaggerated seriousness. “I guess so. As long as she promises not to annoy me with her terrible jokes and awful puns.”

“Hey!” Y/N shot back, mock-hurt. “I’ll have you know my jokes are legendary!”

“Legendary at making people cringe,” he replied, chuckling as the officiant tried to stifle a laugh.

After a few more playful jabs and exaggerated vows—filled with drunken laughter and outrageous promises—they exchanged rings made of plastic and signed their names on the chapel’s official log, feeling giddy and foolish.

As they stumbled back out into the glittering chaos of the Vegas Strip, their marriage license in hand, they couldn't help but laugh that they even printed out one. 

“Is this even legal?” she asked not expecting a reply, glancing at their license as if it might disappear into thin air. “You would think that for a pair of law students we would know the answer” 

Aaron only shrugged, too drunk to think, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s hit the casino again. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

As they walked, their banter flowed freely, filled with giggles and playful nudges. They knew they would laugh about this ridiculous night for years to come, even if they had to figure out how to disentangle themselves from the drunken mess they had just created.

The next morning had been awkward, to say the least. They had agreed to get the marriage annulled immediately, laughing about how ridiculous it all was. Except, somehow, neither had followed through on the paperwork. It had slipped through the cracks of their busy lives.

Now, his mind kept wandering back to Y/N wondering where she was now. He couldn’t help but notice how the victims all had a striking resemblance to her. 

The team had been called in to investigate a series of kidnappings, and the more they dug, the clearer it became for him how they all looked like Y/N. Where was she now? He couldn’t help but think. Was she safe? 

He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He had to find her, his protective instincts kicking in. 

“Did you find something, Garcia?” Hotch asked, breaking the silence of his office when Penelope Garcia appeared at the door, her fingers flying across her tablet.

She hesitated momentarily, her usual cheerful energy replaced with a seriousness that made Hotch’s pulse quicken.

“I… I think so, sir,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at her screen. “Does the name Y/N Y/L/N ring any bells?”

Hotch’s heart stopped for a moment. His eyes locked with Garcia’s, his mind racing. “Yes,” he replied, his voice strained. “She’s… my wife.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Hotch took a breath, the memories rushing back. “We got married… years ago. It was a mistake. We were supposed to get divorced, but… it never happened.”

Garcia blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had just revealed. “So, you’re telling me… you’re still married?”

“Yes.” Hotch’s voice was tight with emotion. 

He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “What did you find?”

Garcia quickly shifted gears, “well, her co-workers reported Y/N missing yesterday after not showing up to work,” pulling up a map of the latest victim location.  “Y/N’s phone pinged from an industrial area near the docks about an hour ago. The unsub is still playing games, but I believe she is the latest victim, sir. It appears he stalked her online for a couple of weeks’”

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he listened, his professional side taking over. “Send me the coordinates. I want the team assembled now.”

~~~~~

The BAU team had nearly arrived to the warehouse, moving swiftly and silently. Hotch led the charge, his mind a blur of tactical planning and personal fear. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not after all these years. Not when he was just realizing how much she still meant to him.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. The unsub had clearly been holding Y/N here, but as they searched the space, there was no sign of her or the unsub.

Hotch’s phone buzzed. A new message.

It was from Y/N’s phone, but the words were clearly from the unsub:

“Do you remember? Do you remember how much you tried to hate her? Tried to hide much did you love her? You won’t find her in time, Hotchner.” 

So this was someone from their past, but who? While trying to think of anyone that would’ve been trying to get close to her and hating him he couldn’t help but recall one fateful winter day that cemented them as academic rivals while also cementing his love for her. 

The cold bite of winter air seeped into the library, where a few stubborn law students huddled around textbooks and laptops. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily, painting the world in white, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing.

Aaron Hotchner glanced up from his notes, his sharp gaze falling on Y/N, who sat across from him in their study group. The usual fire was in her eyes, and the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she readied herself for another round of their never-ending banter.

“You’re completely wrong, Hotchner,” she said, her voice sharp and teasing. “Your interpretation of the case law is so off-base, I’m surprised you’re even here right now.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Is that so? Enlighten me, then. If you can, that is.”

Y/N’s face flushed, her hazel eyes narrowing in mock-annoyance. The faint crinkle of her nose appeared—the one that always seemed to surface when she was riled up. It was something he had started to look forward to, something that drove him to keep pushing her buttons just to see that reaction.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a huff, leaning forward to point at his notes. “Right here, you missed the entire point of the ruling. You can’t just cherry-pick the facts that support your argument. You’re better than that… or at least, I thought you were.”

Her words were laced with sarcasm, but Aaron found himself barely hearing them. Instead, his mind focused on the way her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, how her cheeks were tinged pink from the warmth of the heated room, and how that fire in her eyes sparked every time they clashed.

She was beautiful in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to fully acknowledge until now. He’d always admired her intellect, her tenacity, the way she stood her ground no matter how hard he pushed. But today—today something shifted. It wasn’t just respect or admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something that hit him square in the chest as if knocking the air out of him.

God, he loved seeing her like this—passionate, focused, and utterly unrelenting. His heart raced as he watched her argue her point, lips moving with a confidence that captivated him. He’d always riled her up for the sake of competition, but now he realized it was more than that. He loved it. Loved the way her nose crinkled, the way her skin flushed pink when she got under his skin and knew it.

She was like a force of nature, and Aaron—against all logic—was caught in her storm.

“Are you even listening to me?” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, her eyes narrowing further as she leaned back, arms crossed.

Aaron blinked, shaking off the haze of his realization, and quickly returned to their debate. “Of course I am. I’m just trying to figure out if you actually believe that nonsense you’re spewing.”

Her mouth fell open, and that familiar spark lit in her eyes again. “You’re impossible!” she snapped, throwing her pen down dramatically.

Aaron bit back a grin. “And you’re predictable.”

That earned him a glare, but he could see the amusement behind it. She thrived on this, just like he did. The banter, the push and pull—it was their language, and he’d never felt more alive than when they were like this. But now it came with a deeper ache, a longing he hadn’t anticipated.

Later that day, after they’d packed up and left the library, Aaron lingered near the hallway, stuffing his textbooks into his bag. Y/N’s voice drifted from around the corner, chatting with her friends.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” one of the girls asked. “Marcus has been wanting to ask you out and you always shoot him down.” 

Y/N laughed softly. “No, I’m good. I promised myself I’d focus on law school. No distractions. I’m staying single and just keeping my head down until graduation.”

Aaron froze, his breath catching in his throat. The words stung more than they should have. He had just admitted to himself that he might be falling for her, and now—now she was putting up a wall, and he wasn’t even on the other side of it.

Single. Focused on her studies. No distractions.

It was clear where she stood, and Aaron felt a knot of frustration tighten in his chest. He could never compete with her ambitions, nor would he try. He respected that about her. But still, it hit him hard, this quiet admission of hers that he had no place in her plans.

He stood there, hidden just out of view, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He had never been one to chase something he couldn’t have, and Y/N had just made it clear she was determined to stay unattached.

But if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted—if she would never see him the way he saw her—then he’d find another way to stay close to her.

That night, as snow continued to fall softly outside the window, Aaron made a silent vow to himself. If being her rival was the only way to be near her, then so be it. He would challenge her, argue with her, push her to her limits—because that’s when she was at her best, and it was the only way he could keep her in his life.

If being her academic rival was all he could be, then he would make sure to be the best damn rival she ever had.

The blood drained from his face as he reread the words. This was personal. The unsub had been watching them—watching their past, their history. And now, Hotch knew he was the key to finding Y/N. Could it have been Marucs? Marcus was the  other relentless suitor that y/n had. Could it be him? 

He called Garcia, “we are almost at the location Y/Ns phone pinged last. Look into Marcus for me, he went to school with us” he ordered 

“Looks  like Marcus has had many girlfriends that resemble Y/N physical appearance since graduating, up until last year in which his girlfriend broke up with him to marry someone else. The wedding date coincides with the first killing sir” 

“Thanks Garcia” he said as they arrived at the location. 

The SWAT team had cleared the perimeter, and Aaron Hotchner stood just outside the door of the dilapidated warehouse. The once-industrial building had long since been abandoned, its cracked windows and rusting metal exterior fitting the profile of a man like Marcus Chambers—someone who had faded into the shadows, but had never truly disappeared.

Aaron’s heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears, the only sound louder than the quiet murmur of the team communicating over comms. They’d been tracking Marcus for days, and this was their best lead yet. But there was one glaring problem—it seemed Y/N wasn’t here.

And time was running out.

The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Aaron nodded to Morgan and Prentiss, signaling them to enter first. Inside, the air was stale and filled with the faint scent of metal and dust. There were scattered pieces of old machinery and boxes, but it was otherwise empty—save for a table and the man seated at the far end of the room.

Marcus.

His dark eyes were fixed on the team as they approached, his mouth curled into a bitter smirk. He didn’t make any effort to move or run, didn’t flinch as SWAT flooded in behind them, guns raised and voices sharp with commands. He sat there, unbothered, like he’d been expecting them all along.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as he approached, unable to shake the burning anger and desperation clawing at him. Y/N’s life depended on this, and every second felt like an eternity.

“Where is she?” Aaron’s voice was low, controlled, but the fury beneath it was unmistakable.

Marcus’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms lazily. “You think it’s that easy, don’t you, Hotchner? You swoop in, play the hero, and save the day.” He sneered. “But not this time.”

Aaron’s fists clenched at his sides. The rage boiling inside him was barely contained, but he couldn’t afford to lose control now. He couldn’t let Marcus see just how much he was getting to him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not playing games with you, Marcus,” Aaron growled, stepping closer, his voice like steel. “Tell me where she is, or I swear you won’t like how this ends.”

Morgan stepped forward ready to jump and protect his boss and close friend, hand resting on his gun, ready for any sign of danger. “You’re surrounded, man, you’re not walking out of here, so you might as well make it easier on yourself.”

Marcus chuckled darkly, shaking his head as if amused by the entire situation. “Easier? For me? This was never about making it easy, agent.” His eyes drifted back to Aaron, and there was something unsettling in his gaze—something cold, unhinged. “This was about making you pay.”

Aaron felt the weight of those words, and it took everything in him to keep his expression neutral. He had known Marcus back in law school—had always seen him as a man with an inferiority complex, always jealous of anyone who succeeded around him. But that was nothing compared to the bitterness Aaron saw now.

“This is about Y/N, isn’t it?” Aaron said, voice steady but cutting. “You’ve hated me since the mock trial when I said I would marry her, but Marcus you should know we were just rattling each other”

“Bullshit” Marcus yelled irritated 

Marcus’s smirk widened. “You have no idea, do you? No idea what it felt like watching you—golden boy Aaron Hotchner—get everything handed to you. The grades, the reputation, and then… her.”

Could he really know about Vegas, about them actually marrying? Aaron thought. It wasn’t as if they actually lived like husband and wife, they had just forgotten to annul the marriage, granted, as far as he knew neither of them had dated after that day. Could he really be this infuriated by a piece of paper? Aaron decided not to focus on the  pang of guilt he felt by thinking of the marriage to the love of his life as just a “piece of paper” he had to figure out where she was before it was too late.

“I watched you two,” Marcus continued, his voice laced with bitterness. “Watched you marry her like it was some joke. Like she was some prize you could just win and forget about.” 

Aaron’s stomach twisted. It all went back to Vegas. The night they’d gotten drunk, the night he and Y/N had woken up with rings on their fingers and hazy memories of how they got there. A wedding that should have been forgotten, annulled, but had somehow turned into something much more permanent, a silent promise that they would always be there for each other. A promise he couldn't break, not after all this time. 

 And Marcus had been there. He’d seen it all. And he was dead set on breaking the fragile bond that was made that night between Aaron and Y/N.  

Suddenly, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft, muffled cry coming from the back of the warehouse. Hotch motioned for the team to follow as they approached a locked room. Kicking the door open, his breath caught in his throat.

There she was. Y/N. Bound and gagged but alive.

You were there that night?” Aaron asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Marcus nodded, his eyes flickering with something darker—something dangerous. “I saw it all. You don’t even remember, do you? How you laughed about it. How you said it didn’t matter, how it would all be a funny memory years down the road. But it mattered to me.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. Yes, there was laughter that night. But, he hadn’t brushed it off like it meant nothing. It had scared him the days after how much that marriage had meant to him. But Marcus had twisted that memory, had held onto it all these years, letting it fester into something deadly.

“This isn’t about Vegas, Marcus,” Aaron said coldly. “This is about your obsession. You’re angry because you never stood a chance.”

Marcus’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but the madness in his eyes only intensified. “I didn’t stand a chance because you took her from me before I even had one.”

Aaron’s fists clenched tighter, his patience fraying. “I'm done with this, I’m done with you. Tell me where she is. Now.”

Marcus chuckled, leaning forward in his chair, his voice dripping with malice. “You really think I’d make it that easy for you? No, Hotchner. This is your punishment. You don’t get to save her this time.”

Aaron’s blood ran cold, a chill settling deep into his bones. He stepped closer, towering over Marcus, his voice deadly calm. “You tell me where she is, or I swear–” Aaron couldn’t finish his threat, noticing Marcus’ eyes flickered to the timer he set on a nearby table. 

Marcus met Aaron’s eyes, his smile fading into something more sinister. “You’re too late. She will be dead in 20 minutes.”

Aaron’s heart stopped. Too late. No, that couldn’t be possible. Not Y/N. Not when they were so close.

“Where is she?” Morgan demanded, his voice rising.

Marcus didn’t answer. His gaze drifted lazily around the room, savoring the tension, the desperation on Aaron’s face. “You’ll never find her. She’s too far gone.”

Aaron lunged forward, grabbing Marcus by the collar and hauling him to his feet, rage boiling over. “Where is she?!”

Morgan and Prentiss moved to pull Aaron back, but he was already too far gone. Marcus laughed in his face, taunting him with the one thing Aaron couldn’t afford to lose: time.

And then, in a quiet, venomous whisper, Marcus finally spoke.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

The words sank in, chilling Aaron to his core. Marcus had known all along that they’d come here, had expected this, planned for it. And while they wasted time finding him—Y/N was somewhere else.

Somewhere Aaron might never reach her in time.

He released Marcus, stepping back, chest heaving with frustration and panic. They had him in custody, but it wasn’t enough. Not without Y/N.

They were running out of time, and Aaron knew he couldn’t afford a single second more

Back at the BAU Penelope Garcia’s fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes glued to the flurry of data populating the screen. She’d been digging into Marcus's background, searching for anything that could lead them to where he was keeping Y/N. “Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, frustration building—until suddenly, a detail popped up, too familiar to ignore. “Wait a minute,” she whispered, freezing. She leaned closer, eyes widening as the puzzle pieces clicked. “The old library!”

Spencer Reid, sitting across from her, looked up from the stack of files he was pouring over. “What about it?”

Garcia spun her chair toward him, her face pale with realization. “That abandoned library—the one Hotch and Marcus used to study at with the group. It was scheduled for demolition last year, but the plans were scrapped. No one’s been there in years.”

Reid’s eyes lit up with recognition, and his voice dropped. “It’s isolated. Quiet. The perfect place to hide someone.”

Garcia immediately tapped into her comms, panic lacing her voice as she patched through to Hotch. "Hotch, I think we’ve found her. She’s at the old library. Marcus has her at the place you all used to study.”

There was a beat of silence before Hotch's voice came through, tight with urgency. "We are  on our way."

Aaron Hotchner’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crumbling doors of the abandoned library, his flashlight slicing through the dust-choked darkness. Morgan was right behind him, followed closely by Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi, their footsteps eerily silent against the cracked tile floors. The air was heavy with mustiness, and the faint echoes of their past—years spent studying in this very place—seemed to haunt the hallways. But there was no time for memories. They had to find her.

A distant sound, soft but unmistakable—a faint whimper—cut through the silence. Hotch froze, his breath hitching. His pulse quickened as his eyes darted toward a door partially ajar at the far end of the room. He motioned for the team to fan out as he crept forward, fear and determination twisting in his gut.

He pushed the door open, revealing Y/N—bound, bruised, but alive—lying in the corner of the room. Relief surged through him like a wave, but there was no time to celebrate, she was breathing but not conscious. Morgan moved quickly to her side, cutting her restraints while JJ and Prentiss scanned the area, and Rossi stood guard. Hotch knelt beside her, his voice low but filled with an emotion he rarely let surface. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes, though tired and scared, widened when she saw him. Relief washed over her face “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking for the first time in years.

She coughed softly as she tried to smile. “You… you found me.”

“Always,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll always find my wife.”

tagging some of my friends that I know would not mind reading an Aaron fic

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @boldlyvoid @reidsaurora @milla984 @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @reid-ingandweeping @ssahotchnerr

[oleander-nin]

Hi can I please request yandere Rise Leo playing truth or dare with his darling ( if possible could reader be female if not that’s fine , I’m fine with g/n) (romantic please )

But more there play , more tense it gets Leo starts acting weird asking odd truth questions it was when the reader decided to go home in the rain , Leo suggested reader stay for the night , which the reader refuses at first , till Leo gaslight them, reader then agreed to stay

It was only when Leo fallen asleep , reader tries to sleep but felt on unease so reader tries to sneak out only for Leo to teleport them back , reader lies saying their gotta get home parents/guardian is worried , only for Leo to call out on their bluff

verbal prompt ; 1 Well that wasn’t very smart

.and 19

If you're going to lie to me, at least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you do it."

love to see what you come up with and if you wanna go for a really dark plot you can do 💗

🀄️anon

Please Just Stay

A/N, not important: Apologies, this is probably not what you had in mind, but I tried to follow your plot to the best of my ability while still giving myself room to breathe. Beta read by @astral--horrorshow. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Manipulation, Peer Pressure, kidnapping, yandere themes

Words: 3495

Summary: You've been planning this sleepover for forever, but now that's it's finally happening, you're not so sure you want to stay.

You could barely hear the rain from where you were in Leo’s room, the faint pitter patter against the pavement above you more of an itch in the back of your skull than something tangible. You keep your attention split between the movie playing and Leo’s face, continuously shoveling popcorn into your face while you wait for him to hurry up. The two of you had been cycling through different ways to pass the time for the past few hours; board games, video games, and most cheesy sleepover games had all been tried at some point in the night. You were currently on the classic game of Truth or Dare, mostly because it wasn’t too hard to play while staying inside Leo’s room.

“Truth or dare?” He finally asks, his chin resting on his knee and his other leg draped over the edge of the bed. The way his back and shell moved bemused you, the hard shell and plastron seeming more flexible than you had first thought upon meeting them.

“Dare,” Your muffled voice tries to answer through your full mouth, holding the back of your hand in front of your lips to keep the food contained inside. You take a few precious seconds more to swallow, hitting your chest twice to make sure it goes down. Leo watches you, his expression stuck between concern and amusement. You look up, a toothy grin flashing at your friend as you speak up again with a more clear, unblocked voice. “Dare. Give me your worst.”

“My worst?” Leo asks, raising his frontalis muscle in jest. You nod, still grinning eagerly at him. Leo sits up, cracking his knuckles in front of his chest with a mischievous glint in his eyes. A brief rush of nervousness and anticipation brushes through you, trying to not dread your decision. Leo finally meets your eyes again, looking pleased with himself. “Give me your phone.”

You snort slightly, although you don’t comply right away with his request. A part of you didn’t trust what he had planned, but you didn’t want to let your apprehension show. “Really? That’s your dare?”

“It is,” Leo insists, holding out his hand expectantly. “I won’t do anything with it, I swear.”

“Your dare is to give you my phone.” You repeat, blanking at him to hide your hesitation.

Leo lets out a small huff, his grin a bit more strained. His hand curls in twice, trying to coax you into handing him the device. Just that motion alone tempted you to tell him to pick something else. “Oh come on, you’re acting like you don’t trust me.”

You purse your lips, reluctantly handing over the small device. You didn’t like not having it near, especially when you were somewhere away. You trusted Leo and the others with your life, of course, but somehow losing your only means of contact made you feel… Vulnerable. Leo takes the phone easily, glancing at the lock screen as it flashes on when he takes it. It was April, Leo and his brothers, and you all together at the latest con, a picture Leo insisted everyone make their lock screen after taking it. You half expect him to go back on his word, to open your phone and start looking through it, but he doesn’t even touch the screen. Leo merely sets the phone on his dresser face down before turning back to you. You chew on your bottom lip, your fingers toying with the ends of your shorts slightly. Leo rolls his eyes again, looking at you impassively.

“Your turn,” He prompts, flashing you another grin. It’s your turn to roll your eyes, unimpressed with his easygoing behavior.

“Truth or dare?” You ask, your voice picking up a more bored and aloof tone. Your change didn’t seem to bother him as he pretended to think hard about the question, his face scrunching up in thought. The odd expressions he was going through were enough to make you start to laugh, causing him to laugh with you.

“Dare,” He parrots, looking smug as he tries to mimic your voice and tone. “Give me your worst.”

You shake your head as he copies your words, kicking his leg slightly in retaliation. Leo, ever the dramatic, holds his leg tightly and scrunches his face up tight like he was in pain. You snort at the mutant’s theatrics, smiling brightly as you look him over. “Mikey made cupcakes tonight, right?”

Leo pauses his wounded display, straightening up slightly as he looks at you curiously. “Yeah, why?”

“Dare you to go get me some,” You say brightly, flashing him a large smile as you nudge his leg again. Leo huffs, unimpressed with your request. He slumps over slightly, resting his hands in his lap.

“That’s a lame dare,” He claims, picking at a loose string on his pajama pants. You shrug, unbothered by his words.

“So was yours.”

Leo seems to concede at this, standing up with a loud sigh. You suppress a laugh as you watch him leave to room to acquire your cupcakes, returning shortly and handing you one of the brightly frosted confections. You eye the identical one in his one hand as he practically shoves the entire cupcake into his face, feigning disgust at the mess of frosting now stuck to his face. Turning back to your own cupcake, you unwrap the cupcake holder from the sweet treat and start prying the bottom half off. You set it atop the frosting and squish it down, treating it like a sandwich.

“So,” Leo starts, wiping frosting from his face with the back of his hand while you continue to nibble at yours. “Truth or dare?”

You swallow the bite of cake and frosting in your mouth as you think it over, weighing the pros and cons. “Truth.”

“Coward,” He teases, with no bite to his words. “Who’s the last person you texted?”

You hum in thought, shoving the last of your cupcake and starting to chew. “Probably either you or a friend from school. Can’t remember, since someone took my phone.”

Leo snorts, shoving your shoulder lightly. “You kept checking it! This is the first sleepover we’ve had in weeks, is it so wrong I want your attention on me instead of whatever you were doing?”

“I was checking my email! You know I’ve been applying to scholarships and colleges!”

“Can that not wait until later?” Leo points out, annoyance flashing over his face. You frown, carefully folding the cupcake wrapper into squares as you try to think of how to answer. Technically he was right. You really could wait until tomorrow, especially since you’d be leaving by the end of the year for college anyways. You should be making the most of your time with him.

“Fine,” You mumble. “Please accept my humble apology.”

Leo nods, leaning back so his shell was against the ‘headboard’ of his bed, which in actuality was just the railing for the old train seating. “Truth or dare?” You ask, crumpling up the small square you made of the cupcake wrapper before trying to throw it across the room into his small trash can. You fail miserably, watching painfully as it soars about a foot past your target.

“Dare,” Leo answers, clearly trying not to laugh at you for your failure of a throw. You lightly kick him in retaliation, huffing softly.

“Dare you to go properly throw it away for me.”

“Are you just going to use this game to use me as a servant?” He complains loudly, getting up to do your bidding either way.

“Truth or dare?” He asks again as he throws away the wrapper. Properly, this time.

“Truth.”

"You're no fun," He complains loudly as he plops back down on the bed, pushing his feet into your lap just to be annoying. You roll your eyes, shoving his feet back onto the bed. "Why do you want to go off to college so bad?"

You blank slightly at the question, confused. Why wouldn't you want to go off to college? Especially since the career you were vying for required a bachelors at the least. And, whether it was unlucky or lucky, you being a first generation college applicant as well as your family making well below the national average opened you up to a lot of government grants. It was far from anything considered affordable, but you were confident you'd be able to pay off any loans you needed to take out by your thirties. Your parents had done everything in their power to help you get this far, and you'd be dead before you squandered it.

"Just, what I want to do." You say simply, shrugging. That was really all there was to it in the end after all. It was what you wanted in life, how you wanted your story to go. Get a job, pay back your parents, help them retire. It felt right.

"But you'd most likely be leaving," Leo argues, annoyed. You falter at that, feeling slightly bad. He did have a point after all. While you of course applied to every local university, the one you had your heart set on was a couple states away. Which meant leaving the turtles, and your family, behind.

"We don't know that yet," You point out, rubbing your wrists. You hated when Leo brought this up.

Leo just frowns, clearly not agreeing with your answer. He crosses his arms, tapping his fingers above his elbows. "We both know you're not planning on staying."

"Can we *not* talk about this right now? Please?" You practically beg, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as he starts to get more accusatory.

"No, I want to know why you want to leave so badly." Leo demands, frowning. You panic slightly, hating this conversation and not knowing what to say. Of course you weren't trying to abandon them, or to run away. You'd be back in four years. You just needed this opportunity to advance your life, and you didn't know how to explain that to him.

“I think my guardians called me,” You blurt out before you can really think about what you just said, having mostly wanted to just end the conversation. You wanted to go home, your heart pounding and palms sweaty. You couldn't deal with him right now, his accusations and arguments making up upset. You school your face into a blank look, ignoring the surprised and slightly annoyed look Leo held. You knew you screwed up. Leo had your phone still and not a peep had come from it since he first put it there.

“Did they now,” He grumbles, rolling his eyes as he reaches for your phone that still sat on his bedside table. “I didn’t even hear it ring.”

You purse your lips as he lifts the phone and taps the screen, briefly glancing at the notifications popping up. Satisfied with his check, he puts the phone back down. “You know,” He starts with a frown, his eyes conveying a deep hurt that makes your stomach churn with guilt. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, to have to bail on the sleepover you’ve both had planned for weeks, but you couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that was radiating through your body. “If you're going to lie to me, at least try to have the decency to make it believable. I don’t know why you’re trying to get out of this so bad, but it can’t be that bad being here with me. Right?"

Leo’s words make you falter slightly, the guilt starting to deafen the warning signs blaring in the back of your head. You couldn’t help but agree with him slightly, faltering in your own resolve to go home. Even you weren’t entirely sure why you wanted to leave so badly. Leo hadn’t technically done anything, after all. He was probably only worried about you, after all. College is a big deal, and you'd be all alone for so long. It was natural to be upset about this.

"I'm not trying to leave you guys," You say softly, rubbing at your wrists again. His upset stare was making you feel bad, guilt building in your chest. He doesn't respond yet, still staring blankly as he waits for you to continue. You take in a deep breath, frowning. "You know the college I want has the best program for what I want. I'm sorry it's so far, but it's not like I'll be gone forever. I'll be able to visit when school's out and in four years I'll have a steady job and my own apartment."

Leo just grumbles, looking away. "I still don't want you to leave."

You sit there awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to respond to that. You were done with this conversation, done with having to justify your dreams to him. He wasn't going to make you change your mind.

"Maybe we should head to bed," You mutter, starting to drop off the bed and onto your sleeping bag you had set on the floor. "It's getting late."

Leo opens his mouth to say something, but closes it soon after. He didn't look happy you were dropping the conversation, but he didn't argue. "Yeah, we should." He finally concedes, picking up his phone to plug it in before doing the same to yours.  You sigh in relief as he doesn’t push it farther, settling down into your makeshift bed to sleep. You still felt a bit uneasy, and a part of you really didn’t want to stay. You knew Leo had the tendency to blow things out of proportion, and he’d likely bring it up again tomorrow. Probably in front of everyone else too.

With that thought swirling around your head, you made the decision to leave. Not now, of course. It’d raise suspicion and hurt feelings. But once Leo was fast asleep, it would be easy enough to sneak out and send a quick lie of a text about a family emergency. Sure, he’d probably see through it, but it was easy enough to bring over a couple pizzas next time you see him as compensation.

It only took around an hour for Leo to finally fall into a deep enough sleep for you to justify getting up. You slip out of the sleeping bag as quietly as possible, carefully folding it up enough to shove back under his bed. You set the pillow down at his feet, navigating the dark room carefully to get to his dresser and retrieve your phone. Figuring leaving the rest of your stuff there would help sell your story, and since it wasn’t like you couldn’t get it later anyways, you decide to leave your bag of spare clothes in his room. Might as well add to the collection of belongings that live at their place.

You carefully step out, wincing as the door gets stuck on its sliding track. The last thing you wanted to do was wake him, especially since being caught now would just be embarrassing. You ease the door forwards, flinching slightly at its loud screech before it’s able to slide again. You look up towards Leo, your eyes carefully scanning his sleeping form to make sure he hadn’t woken. Satisfied, you close the door the rest of the way and make your way out.

It had been a while since you’d walked through the dark of the sewers, your meager phone light barely casting enough to see more than a foot in front of you. You grimace at the smell, your shirt pulled up over your nose as you try to ignore the growing dread in your bones. Despite how often you’ve traveled down these tunnels, you never could shake the eerie feeling they brought at night.

As you finally reach a ladder to the surface, you turn off your light and put your phone into your pocket. You weren’t sure how well you could leave, considering Leo and his brothers insisted on moving the covers for you whenever you came or went. You’d heard word of them being heavy, but figured they couldn’t be that bad.

Climbing blindly up the ladder, you keep one hand above you as a brace to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally smash your head against the iron cover. The rain steadily got louder as you climbed, causing you to groan inwardly. You were not looking forward to being soaked on the walk home, and you could already feel drops falling on your head as you climbed. As you reach the top, you carefully wrap an arm around the topmost rung to keep yourself from falling as you try to push the cover up and off. Surprised by the lack of give, you try again at a different angle, shifting your feet to give yourself as much leverage as possible.

As it continues to hold firm, you start to push desperately at the edges of the cover, leveraging against the solid iron with your shoulder. You could hear the rain louder now, small bouts of water dribbling down and running down your back and arms. It gathered in your hands, making your already sweaty palms even more slick against the rusted metal ladders. You try your best to keep your balance, not wanting to lose your grip and fall the approximately fifteen down. Your heart pounded in your ears, the uncomfortable feeling in your gut still as persistent as it was earlier in the night. You couldn’t help but feel watched, vulnerable even. You hated this, and the heavy manhole lid that refused to budge was not helping in the slightest. You just wanted to leave, to go home and lay in your own bed for the night. It would be embarrassing to go back now, even if you weren’t found out. Just knowing you couldn’t leave on your own was enough of a blow to your pride.

“You’re not going to be able to lift it,” A voice calls as the area around you starts to glow a soft blue, making you jump. You freeze where you are, recognizing the voice immediately and light source immediately. You sigh, turning slightly to look at Leo with a sheepish look on your face. Leo’s face was clearly unhappy, his eyes crinkled into a deep frown.

“You’re awake,” You say simply, unsure how to break the tension between you both. Leo stays quiet for a moment, his dark eyes taking in the situation. He holds out his hand, balancing his other on the rim of his portal.

“C’mon. I’ll take you home.” He says softly, waiting for you to take his outstretched palm. You sigh, taking his hand and letting him pull you forwards into the portal. You were a bit surprised as you arrived in his room instead of your own, watching the portal close behind you as he moved back onto his bed. You look down in surprise when you see he set your sleeping back and pillow back up, frowning slightly as the surprise morphs into confusion.

“Uh, Leo?” You ask weakly, trying to gain his attention. He looks up at you, tilting his head slightly like there was nothing wrong. “I thought you were going to take me home.”

“I did,” He answers easily, his voice sweet like he was talking to a lost child. You frown, not appreciating his tone nor the joke he seemed to be playing.

“Hah hah, very funny. I meant my home, Leo.”

Leo sighs, frustration seeping back into him. “I did. You’re staying here.”

This declaration does not make you feel any better than you did a moment ago, your confusion growing even more. “Leo, what are you talking about?”

“I’m done with you trying to leave me,” Leo says, glaring at you. “Get in bed. You’re staying here.”

You balk at him, taking a step back towards the door. Leo sits up at this, his body tensed like he was ready to reach forwards and grab you a second's notice. You flub your words, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Leo, this isn’t funny.”

“Neither is you being so insistent on abandoning me, but you seem fine doing that,” He says bitterly, gritting his teeth. “Lay down. We’ll talk in the morning.”

You shake your head, turning for the door before you feel Leo’s arm's reach out and wrap around your waist, yanking you back. The sudden momentum causes you to wheeze, your stomach aching at the harsh pull. You fall backwards against Leo’s chest, causing you to start to struggle against him in an attempt to get away. He doesn’t budge, his grip tightening to a painful degree as you cry out.

“I’m not losing you.” He hisses, holding you down. His words haunt you, causing your flailing to increase and his own grip to shift so you could barely move without hurting yourself in the process. “Not now, not ever.”

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr @ssak-i @rottmntsimp

[azrielwingspan]

'SOMEONE' (AZRIEL X READER)- PART 2

Summary: You are convinced that Azriel was the one to send the note. Anxious about facing him, you lose yourself in your head but strangely, things are turning out...weird.

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Thankyou so much for the response on the first part you guys! It was supposed to be a one shot but due to popular demand, I wrote down a second. Not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous about this because peer pressure haha. Really hope this meets expectations. Did my best to make it fun and playful.

Read Part-1 here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'It's hard not to pry when you're involved.' The words kept flitting through your mind , jumbling your thoughts and stirring up a butterfly party in your stomach.

You knew it was from Azriel. Who else could it be ? Not believing it at first, you tried to think of all other possibilities and came up with zero. No else could possibly know about it.

Except him.

After stewing upon the unexpected turn of events for a good couple of hours, you did something anyone else in your position would've done.

You tried to hide.

From a spymaster.

You were really setting standards in the department of intelligence.

It had all started when you were having lunch with Cass and Mor at the House of Wind. "How was your new book?" Mor asked stuffing herself with the mashed potato in front of her. "It was alright. It just felt a little flat." you stabbed at the piece of chicken on your plate.

"Why the gloomy face? Everything okay?" Cass looked at your face intently. You sat up a little straighter, forcing a small smile onto your face. "I'm great."

"Are you on something?" Your head shot towards Mor, a flabbergasted look on your face.

"What made you say that?"

"You've been acting weird since yesterday and just this morning you stared off into space with a stupid smile on your face. Now, you're gloomy. I've seen this before--"

"Oh for Mother's sake, I'm not on anything Mor." A choked laugh burst out of you at the incredulity of it.

"Is it because of the stable boy thing yesterday? Shit Y/N, we didn't know you still --"

You narrowed your eyes at Cass , daring him to finish that statement. He immediately backed off, putting up his hands in the air.

"Just a concerned friend." He said with a teasing smile.

"You guys are the worst." Soft laughter was shared between the three of you before disaster struck.

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell making your head whip towards it. Eyes widening a fraction, your brain was thrown into a whirlpool of thoughts , each one fighting for dominance over the other. You knew with absolute certainty that it was him. There was no one else in the house. You also knew the sound of his footsteps but that was a fact to be pondered upon on a different day.

Wait, he was a spymaster. Why was he making a sound in the first place?

He wants you to know. Doesn't want to catch you off guard. The still functioning part of your brain helps you out.

"Are you having a seizure?" Mor's voice registered in your head.

"No , but I might." you muttered under your breath, your body reacting before your mind could give it a command. Almost stumbling from your chair all the while trying to look as unbothered as possible, you excused yourself from the table mumbling a reason to your companions.

Exit points available. The stairwell. Your mind supplied. YOU CAN'T PASS BY HIM. DO BETTER.

The plant. - THE PLANT ?! What were you supposed to do ? Photosynthesize yourself ?!

Under the table.- Ah yes. Have a front row view to his crotch. Way to go.

Balcony.- We don't have WINGS! You screamed at yourself.

The door to your right.- Finally. A good option.

Your face must have exhibited a plethora of emotions during the internalized battle with yourself because Mor and Cass were staring at you like you had two heads.

"Y/N. Please sit down. Something is seriously wrong." Cass said rising from his chair.

"No. No. I just forgot to do something very very important. I'm going to be screwed. I just need to---"

"Have lunch. I'll help you out with whatever it is." The voice like night whispered over your skin setting off goosebumps in its wake. His scent enveloped you, taunting and teasing your senses. It almost seemed to whisper- Look at me.

So you did.

You had expected a smirk or a smile or even a twinkle in his eye. Nothing. No hint or trace of what had happened. No clue to suggest that he knew or that he was the one to send the note.

What if you were wrong? What if it wasn't him but someone else playing a joke on you?

"No it's alright. I..." You didn't get to finish the sentence as he pulled your chair back and motioned for you to sit down.

Sighing out loud you returned to your place at the table trying not to look at Azriel as he took the seat across. "What did you forget?" Cass was starting to sound suspicious. Racking your brain for a quick and believable answer, you blurted out "I have to respond to a letter. A very important one."

The double meaning of your reply hit you the moment it left your mouth. Your body betrayed you and turned your gaze towards Azriel.

Nothing. Blank as a slate.

Starting to grow frustrated, you stabbed into your chicken a little too enthusiastically.

"It's already dead." Azriel said dryly, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Mor let out a snort and thankfully started to recall a conversation she had with a friend of hers. You could feel the tension leave your body as the conversation and attention was steered away from you.

Get your shit together.

Fortunately, all of you were done eating not long after and everyone went back to their duties. Azriel hadn't said or done anything for the rest of the afternoon and you were seriously starting to doubt if you were wrong.

You made your way back to your room trying to make sense of your emotions along the way. There was a sense of relief that Azriel didn't know and yet it was tinged with the undertones of disappointment that he didn't know after all.

Did you want him to know or did you not?

You didn't know. UGH. Idiot.

Stepping into your room, you almost missed the note that caught under your foot.

Fuck. Another one.

Heart thudding painfully, you picked it up with trembling hands. It read:

Anyone is capable of falling in love with your heart. Me? I want to be the someone you give it to. -'Someone'

A/N: I did not intend to end it this way at all but here we areeee. Hope you guys enjoyed it !

TAGLIST : @crazylokonugget , @hayrunnwr , @fxckmiup , @wildlyobserving , @harrystylesfan2686 , @63angel , @charlotteintumbleland , @willowpains , @nyx-the-alien , @acourtofbatboydreams , @marina468 , @anuttellaa , @kalulakunundrum , @amygdtjhddzvb , @lulu22156

[iid-smile]

hidden inventory students: headcanons

gojo, geto, shoko, haibara, nanami

gojo can scream in the most high pitched way ever. this usually happens when his ego gets to him during a mission and gets snuck up on from behind.

gojo has ripped his pants multiple times on different occasions. the worst one is when a girl he was flirting with dropped something, so he squats down and just like that, and rip right down the middle. he was wearing bright pink boxers with a pizza pattern btw... sometimes, he's not even shy about it.

gojo has the worst balance on trains. he has to lean against something or sit down because his legs shake like crazy. will always fall on the person next to him when the train stops, slow or fast it doesn't matter, even if the train doesn't move anybody else.

gojo frequently sends geto selfies with the most weird things. burnt food, ant's nest, inside of a truck, you name it.

when nobody's looking, geto pins back his bangs. he keeps a hairclip that shoko gifted him in his pocket, because he refuses to admit that they actually do get in the way.

geto has horrible back pain but the best posture. sits straight up as if he's been taped to the back of a chair. when he's walking? um... that's a different story.

geto matches other people's energy. it's not over the top, but he can adapt to all sorts of personalities and humour, both negatively and positively. it's most apparent with gojo and haibara. his whole entire mindset can change depending on who he's talking to.

geto has more haircare products than anything, not even skincare comes close. ask him about a particular shampoo or hair oil, and he can manage to go on a twenty minute rant about why you shouldn't buy it. never gives recommendations though (gatekeeper)

shoko laughs embarrassingly loud on purpose when anybody makes a bad joke. she does it most when guys try to catcall her or ask her out. also does it to gojo, but more as a joke because she likes how sulky he gets. it's actually kind of scary how she laughs too...

shoko hides her real cigarettes in a fake/candy cigarette box. may or may not keep an emergency lighter in there as well, but she doesn't know it's complete out. she does this so yaga doesn't find out she smokes.

shoko naps all the time during boring classes. poke her, shout in her ear, she will not wake up until something subconscious in her brain hears the school bell go off.

shoko prints off every photo she takes with a classmate. she sticks them on the wall of her dorm room, and separates them by person. the ones with utahime and meimei are put where she can easily see them and decorated with stickers. always puts a pink heart next to gojo's face for special reasons.

haibara is so overly positive it pisses people off. he always sees the good in people, so if a thief tries to rob him, he willingly hands his stuff over, because he always gives to "people in need". he gets upset when the thief gives him his stuff back and walks off.

haibara frequently compliment on how much people eat. we know his type is girls who eat a lot (i think) so he gets happy when somebody around him is just enjoying food and letting loose. doesn't really care if said person finds him weird, and he always buys them another little side dish or dessert.

haibara always looks out for other people. if he's in a crowded place like a party or amusement park, he always manages to find people at unexpected times and ask if they're okay/having fun. always checks the infirmary room just to make sure nobody's injured.

haibara is a natural magnet to children. somehow knows exactly how to play and communicate with them. maybe has siblings of his own, because he seems like the kind of guy that is the oldest of 5+ siblings yet still manages to have younger brother vibes.

nanami never poses for pictures. if he has to be in one via peer pressure, he stands straight, arms to his sides, and a grumpy look on his face (🧍‍♂️)

nanami spends a lot of time doing his hair. i know it doesn't look like he would, but he does. he uses a bunch of hairspray, so those strands do not move AT ALL. it's actually so hard and stiff if someone tries to touch it. because he puts so much, he has to wash his hair every day. legend has it that nobody's seen what his hair with no product looks like.

nanami has the worst attitude to those younger than him, but is so respectful to elders. like, it could be a whole 360 to what he's usually like. 90 degree bows, formal language and everything. bonus! shoko actually teases him the most about this.

nanami loves everyone in the group. dear, dear nanami... he's never open with his feelings. i don't think he could genuinely imagine his life being any more interesting than it is now if he hadn't joined jujutsu tech. it's not obvious, but he's always wishing the best for those around him. (we all know how that ended cough cough)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 4

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

“Can you drive?” Andy asks as he gets your dad in the back of his white SUV. 

“I got... I got my license,” you hiccup in panic. 

“No, can you drive?” He looks at you, “you got your head on?” 

“I don’t-- I don’t know, Mr. Barber,” you stammer. 

“Get in with him,” he points at your dad as he slumps in the back seat, “keep pressure on his head,” he shoves the balled rag into your hand, “I’ll drive.” 

You can’t argue. You can’t think. You do what he says and he snaps the door shut behind you. You bring your dad’s heavy body closer, your arm around him as you press against the gashes across his scalp. 

“Dad,” you babble. 

“It'll be okay,” Andy says as he turns the engine, backing out sharply, “once we get back to the main roads, it’s a straight shot to the hospital.” 

“What happened?” You croak as you cling to your father. 

“I told him not to mess around,” Andy peeks in the rear view mirror, “he kept revving, lifting the front, I don’t know, he was screwing around. I told him it was gonna tip.” He shakes his head and sighs, “next thing I know, he’s headed straight for the dock and then...” he sounds like he’s choking, “he was in the water...” 

You sit in stunned silence. Your dad is stubborn and reckless. He gets a few beers in him and he doesn’t listen to anything but his own brain. You can’t help but blame him for this. It’s not the first time he’s got himself hurt. 

“He was drinking?” 

“I...” Andy shrugs and slaps the wheel, “I had one beer. Didn’t even finish it. Too early. But he... I thought maybe two cans. I wasn’t worried but...” 

“But he’s sneaky,” you finish, “I know. He drinks fast.” 

“Didn’t have breakfast either. I offered him some but...” 

You sniffle, “oh god.” You keep your hold on your dad as tears continue to flow. 

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be alright,” Andy promises as he speeds up, “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna get your dad there. Just keep that pressure on.” 

You nod and gulp, your vision as skewed as your thoughts. Your hand trembles as you push down as much as you can. He’s going to be okay. He’s always okay. He’s your dad. He can’t go like this. 

🌅 

You sit in the waiting room. Rather, you pace. You haven’t been able to stay still since you got there. Since they rushed your dad off in a gurney and left you there. Your head races with all the worst thoughts. Shit, your mom. You have to call her. 

You look at Andy as you reach instinctively to your thigh. You look down. You’re still in only your bikini. He at least has a tee shirt on over his trunk. Shoot. 

“You got your phone?” You ask as you lower your voice and approach him. “Gotta call mom.” 

“Oh, I think it’s out in the car,” he stands and you take a step back. “I’ll be back.” 

“Right,” you bite your thumb, one arm over your chest, holding your other elbow. You sit as he leaves and you peer around, suddenly aware of all the eyes staring at you. You must look ridiculous. 

You try to make yourself small as you jitter your legs. What are you going to tell mom? Dad’s hurt? Dad’s dead! Oh god, oh god! He's not going to die, right?

Before you can lose your cool, Andy returns. You look up as he holds out his phone, “here,” he offers a hoodie as well, “found this in the hatch.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you stand and accept both. 

You zip on the hoodie and squeeze the phone tight. You excuse yourself and go out to the outer vestibule to make your call. The first call goes to voicemail. The second too. You don’t bother a third time. You can’t leave a message about this. It’s too hard to explain. You just want to hear your mother’s voice but as usual, she’s not there. 

You sigh and go back to the waiting room. You give Andy his phone and flop into the chair next to him. You fold over your lap and hold your head. The scent of iron tinges your nose and you look at your hands as you stay hunched over. You sit up straight at the sight of your dad’s blood still on your hands. 

“Hey,” Andy rubs your shoulder, making you jump, “there’s a restroom over there.” He nods towards the other side of the room, “why don’t you get washed up. I’ll find some water or something.” 

You stare at him, barely able to process his words. Finally, you stand and traipses away, sandals slapping on the floor. You go to the restroom and twist on the faucet. You gape at your own reflection. It takes a few minutes to get yourself together.  

You lather your hands in soap and shove them under the water, scrubbing until they hurt. You finish and shut the tap off. You lean on the sink and stare at the drain. A shaky breath flutters out and you suck in a chestful before you push away. 

You go back out to the waiting room. Andy startles you as he waits just outside. He has a bottle of water in his hand and a couple of packets. He offers you the bottle and a packet. 

“Got you pretzels,” he says, “didn’t have much else.” 

“Uh, thanks,” you accept them, hugging them to your chest numbly. 

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you sitting,” he puts his hand against your back and guides you back towards the plastic chairs. “I’m sure they’ll be out soon. They’re taking good care of dad.” 

You blink as you sit with him and grip your handful. You have a bad feeling it’s not going to be okay. How can he be sure? He can’t know. He doesn’t really know. He’s just saying what you’re supposed to say. 

Still, it’s better than being alone. If it was just you... you hate to think what that would be like. 

[hazz-a-bear]

YOUR HAND IN MINE, wen junhui

♡⸝⸝ As soon as Junhui shot up and excused himself from the dinner table, your eyebrows furrowed in concern. If only the love of your life trusted you enough to take care of him at his worst.

.ᐟ sick junhui ( i'm sorry for inflicting pain on this boy, i really am ) fever, mention of throwing up, nervous and stressed reader, junhui needs to learn how to ask for help, the daunting ordeal of not asking to be taken care of because of the fear that comes with being a burden to your loved ones, absolute sweethearts minghao and jihoon

a/n - sick junnie is such a cat, i can cry. somebody give this boy a kiss and tell him it's okay. leave some feedback please please <3

masterlist | taglist

When Jihoon suddenly puts a hand on your shoulder, you jump in your seat. Startled by his out-of-order action, you let your eyes find his, a question pausing in the air. You watch as Jihoon sighs and gives you a look - quite unreadable as always. When you simply cocks your head to the side, Jihoon is sighing again like a damsel in distress before he finally nudges his gaze towards your lap, specifically, your knee and oh –

You let your eyes zero on the way your knee bounces in sync with the song playing through the venue - a good hundred-something bpm to it and almost making it look like it's having a seizure of its' own. Wait, holy shit, were you shaking the fucking table?

"Calm down, you weren't" It's Minghao who comforts you from the other side of you, having moved to the empty seat next to you while you've been distracted. "You're fidgety"

Minghao is almost peering into you, doe eyes slightly wide as they run along your face with concern clearly written across his eyes. From your other side, Jihoon is pretending to not listen. He's long retracted his hand and sat back in his seat, but you knew he still had one year stuck in the conversation out of concern.

"Yn," Minghao almost whispers as if not to bother you. "Hey, calm down. It's okay. I'm sure he's alright"

You try your best to nod, not trusting yourself to give him a verbal answer knowing you would just end up with a whole lot of nonsense pouring out of your mouth as a result of your nerves. But still, even as you silently reassure him, you can't seem to stop the shaking in your leg, the shudder in your breath and that god-awful feeling in your gut.

"I'll go check on Jun" Jihoon says from your right, giving away how he'd been listening and making you look up at him.

He's already getting up from his place, brushing his hands against his pants as he squeezes between your chairs and slips away from the seat. From the corner of your eye, you see Minghao trying to get up as well, only to be forced back into his chair by Jihoon with a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay with her. I'll go" You hear Jihoon say to the younger, stern and a rare display of worry dripping from the words rolling out of his tongue.

"Yn? Yn, look at me" There's a light feeling of pressure on your knee, and you turn your face to meet Minghao's eyes, ever so comforting. "Hey, it's okay, honey. Jihoon hyung will check on him, okay? And then they'll be back, and then he'll be right here next to you. No need to get worked up, yeah? Junnie wouldn't want you to get worked up at all"

Minghao is peering into your face again, nodding and confirming if you've processed what he's saying before smiling kindly at you. "So, just breathe. He's okay"

The way Minghao is so careful with his words, trying to calm you down with the gentlest touch and the softest words reminds you of just how great of a person he is.

Minghao has always been so fond of you, ever since you entered Jun's life as a constant figure. At first, he might have been a little hard to approach. Considering just how protective he was of his Jun gēgē, you understood when Minghao shied away from warming up to you when you'd been introduced to each other. Junhui had been the most eager when the two of you met, almost bouncing off his feet at the mere thought of his two favourite people (his words, of course) becoming close. It had taken some time for you two to get comfortable with each other as Jun's best friend and Jun's partner, yet by now, you're convinced that Minghao considered you a sister - maybe a mother figure even. Minghao is now one of your best friends as well - the two of you often hang out by yourselves, sharing similar likings in music and flavours of tea. So it was inevitable for him to get worried when you started spacing out ten minutes into Junhui's disappearance - eyes hazy and knee starting to bound under the table.

"He kept saying he didn't feel good. He actually didn't seem well at all today" You stagger, slumping your head. "I thought it was nothing, so I didn't bother asking. Gosh, Hao, I should've checked on him a little more"

"Hey, come on" Minghao shifts in his seat, bringing a hand to rest on top of yours in an attempt to console you. "He'll be okay, I'm sure. You have nothing to be scared of. Jihoon is with him, yeah? He'll be feeling better, and he'll be back to his usual self in no time, yn"

"But I should've asked. Hao, you know perfectly well how he doesn't say out loud when he's sick. He thinks he's being a burden, so he doesn't tell me even though he needs me. And god, it worries me so much" You try your best to stay calm, seeing a few others like Joshua and Jeonghan looking your way with lifted eyebrows and confused glances.

You seriously did not want to cause a scene in the middle of the function in front of everyone - but also, you had an extent to keep your composure while your boyfriend was probably passing in the restroom.

The Seventeen boys ( or mostly Seuncheol and his wallet ) had planned a dinner party, a quiet get-together with all their close friends following the end of their tour.

Junhui had been so excited when he passed you the invite, all giddy and smiles, bouncing on his feet as he suggested the two of you should wear matching outfits and be lovey-dovey all evening to purposefully piss Jeonghan off for his 'lack of bitches/respectfully' ( Again, his words ) His excitement passed on to you, more because of Junhui's boxy smile and lit up eyes as he romped around than the whole dinner ordeal. Sure, you were just as eager to celebrate the guys finally having a moment to wind down, but seeing Junhui so happy-go sunshine was better than anything in the whole world.

When the two of you woke up this morning, Junhui hadn't forgotten to cheerily mumble into your shoulder about how he picked a suit to match your outfit, and Jeonghan was going to be so sour all night about it.

You had expected him to be stuck to you all day, talking your ear off about everything and nothing all at once since today had been an off day for him. His habitual routine at home was being stubborn all day and refusing to let go of your arm to follow you around the house like a boy cat.

You hadn't first noticed any signs of sickness at all as Junhui spent the morning like usual, clinging to your back and playing on his phone for the most part. And when he asked if he could go and lay down for a while, you'd simply thought he wanted to rest out of the weariness that came with the newly ended tour.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before sending him off to bed to get a good rest, knowing he would have to stay active for the latter part of the night. Junhui almost slept the entire afternoon off, curled up on your bed with a newfound frown pinching his eyebrows together even in his state of unconsciousness. When you finally woke him up, Junhui had spent a fair share of minutes groaning and whining before getting out of bed, saying something about a headache, and quickly waving a hand to shoo you off when you instantly got worried.

Even as you kept asking him once the two of you left the house, he had simply smiled and pressed a soothing kiss to your temple over the console, telling you not to worry your pretty little head ( His words for the third time )

It was Seungkwan who pointed out how pale Junhui looked, joking about how he should go out into the sun a little bit more or he'd end up like Jihoon. Mingyu and Seokmin joined, saying something about how it would be another Macau situation if he didn't take care of himself enough - which made you throw a hurried gaze of worry towards Junhui, who avoided your eyes as his life depended on it.

Even Seungcheol, who mostly kept to himself turned towards you at some point during the night, quietly asking if Junhui had been eating well after returning home from the tour.

And since then, you hadn't been able to stop the waves of worry from washing over you.

Junhui had been doing a great job of trying to pretend like he was okay for the most part. The painful pinch that took over his features while he made conversation with one of the guests was gone as soon as it came. Junhui was back to his usual smile with rattled eyes darting around to see if he'd been caught. Later, when you saw him wavering on his feet, hand immediately flying to his temple, you had been by his side in an instant, asking if he was surely okay. Your boyfriend flashed his million-dollar smile at you once again, turning away to introduce you to one of his friends and successfully steering the attention away from the matter at hand.

It was when Junhui excused himself from the table to go to the restroom you started getting anxious. It was clear to anyone with a working pair of eyes that Junhui was not feeling well. Even if nobody voiced anything outright - the concerned looks the boys threw at you said enough.

And now, seeing Jihoon return with his face twisted into a scowl, you were on your feet immediately, anxiety doubling in amount and Minghao following right beside you.

"What's wrong?" Your voice came out breathless and frantic, hands reaching to hold Jihoon by the arms. "Is he okay?"

"He caught something serious by the looks of it" Jihoon sighs with an unsettling look in his eyes. "He threw up. Dinner and maybe lunch too, all of it. I tried to get him out, but he's asking for you. He doesn't look good"

From the corner of your eyes, you can see how the rest of the boys are trying to listen to your conversation, wanting to know how Jun's doing after abruptly getting up and leaving the table.

Not sparing a glance at anyone, you're pushing past Jihoon in the direction of the restrooms in an instant. If it was any other time, you would have lingered outside waiting for Junhui to come back to you instead of barging inside the men's room. But this wasn't any other time - Junhui wasn't well and he clearly needed you with him - even explicitly telling Jihoon outright.

"Junnie" You're whispering when you finally push the door to the overly luxurious restroom, gaze falling on your boyfriend sitting against the heavy door of one of the stalls.

Jihoon and Minghao, who had followed after you hot on their heels, were kind enough to wait outside without tracking your steps - possibly knowing Junhui would want some time alone with you. You knew the two would be outside with ears turned your way anyway, ready to be of help if you needed.

"My baby, what's wrong?" Without even minding the condition of the outfit you're wearing, you kneel right in front of him on the shining marble of the floor.

Junhui cracks his eyes open as you bring up a hand to his flushed face. "Yn" He croaks, the scratch in his voice making you wince as you shuffle closer, stroking the warm skin of his cheeks. "It hurts. My head, my throat, I- I don't- I don't know what happened"

"Oh sweetheart, you should've told me. I was so worried" Junhui leans his face into your hand as you trace your fingers against his skin, reminding you of his kitty antics. One of his own hands comes up to shakily wrap around your wrist, keeping you close to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you" He whispers, eyes still drooping out of exhaustion. "Jihoonie said you were upset. I'm sorry"

"I wasn't upset at you, Jun. I was just worried" With a smile, you reassure him, not wanting to show your uneasiness with him in such a vulnerable condition. "Tell me how you feel, baby. Did you throw up?"

Junhui nods, eyes drooping and lips forming into an adorable pout.

"My poor baby" You can't help but pull your lips into a pout as well, cooing and bringing your other hand to cup his face between your cold palms.

As much as you hated the idea of Junhui getting sick on your watch, you secretly loved the clinginess that came with it like a plague. A sick Junhui meant an extra sulky Junhui, all cute pouts and teary eyes looking up at you until he'd successfully lured (lowkey coerced) you into giving him all your attention (doting on him 24/7 and doing things you wouldn't have agreed to do for a healthy Junhui)

After the initial dilemma of processing the fact that he's been bedridden, Junhui usually had the habit of pulling a drama queen card out of his pocket whenever he got sick. He would flat-out refuse to eat, take his medicine or sometimes even go see a doctor at all. Throwing small fits whenever you tried to argue with him about it, he would always guilt trip you into cuddling with him at the end of the day, unable to keep his limbs to himself.

But still, you adored the devious being he turned to whenever he was sick, mumbling in his sleep and nibbling on his food like a little cat as you orbit around him, pampering him like no tomorrow.

"Do you wanna go home, Jun? You feel really warm. Jihoon said you have a fever" You mumbled with a frown, hands feeling around for the warmth that radiated off his skin.

"Mmh. Jihoon's lying, I'm perfectly fine" Junhui opens his eyes and looks at you with a cheeky smile pulling on his lips. Yet, the small wince in his eyes is too noticeable to slip past your attention.

You pat his cheeks with a smile to match his. "Oh really, is that so? Well, I'm still taking you home and grounding you for the next two weeks so, we can't do anything about that"

Junhui exaggerates a whine at that, head rolling back against the door, dramatizing his dislike towards the idea of being the victim of your worries for the next couple of days. But you both know how much he loves to be the centre of your attention - being cared for and so so loved on like he deserved to be.

Junhui then silently lets you fuss over him, wiping his face with damp towels trying to soothe the flaring of warmth that's spreading through him. 

Typically, Junhui would have been smiling his boxy smile, trying to lighten the mood by cracking his list of bad jokes as you fussed over him. So when he just sits silently with his head thrown back and eyes closed, you assume his condition might be a little more severe than usual. You can see the way he is still flushed, a sheen of sweat left behind as a result of the fever spreading through him. His hands are clammy where he keeps them in his lap, a clear sign of just how flimsy he's feeling now.

"My head hurts" He mumbles once you settle down in front of him again, immediately making you run a hand through his hair softly. You try to massage his head, fingers pressing to his temples knowing it usually helps with his migraines.

"We'll go home, okay?" You say. "You need to rest, Jun. You're still exhausted- you're gonna say no but your body needs lots of rest, baby. I knew something was wrong when you went to bed earlier, I just didn't think you'd get sick so soon"

Though you try your best to not let your voice waver, you know Junhui's picked up on the way your demeanour shrinks from the way your voice quietens down. Junhui, ever so observant and managing to see through all the cracks, opens his eyes to look over at you with a pinched frown. 

He blindly reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, bringing them up to his lips. You watch as he turns your palm towards him and presses a kiss to the middle of your palm. He lets your hands rest against his face, cradling it close before he starts to speak.

"I should've told you" He sighs, nuzzling his nose against your palm. "I- I just didn't want to bother you, you know? You've been so busy with work and I just - I just didn't want to add on to it, yn. I've been away for so long and you've been nothing but looking after me all this time. I just wanted to stop being so...so dependent. I thought I could look after myself, not be a burden for once. I'm sorry"

You feel a part of your heartbreak as you listen to Junhui's words - spoken so solemnly as he explains how he simply wanted to stop being so reliant on you and take care of himself as a person. As if he could ever be a burden in your dictionary of love and as if he doesn't know that your world quite literally revolves around him at all times.

"Don't...don't say that" You start, making him pause on his words. "Don't ever- god, Jun. Don't ever say you're being a burden - to me, out of everyone"

 Junhui's eyes are glazed over with a meek apologetic look as you try to form your words, too perplexed to even string your thoughts together. "You'll never be a burden to me, you know that? Never. If anything, I'm always fucking itching to know what's going on in this mind of yours. I always want to know when you're feeling bad or sick or just, anything. I always want to know how you're doing. I'm here to take care of you. Fever, no fever- I'm always going to look after you and coddle you, Jun"

"I love you so much, okay? I don't want you to think you're burdening me by telling me you have a fever darling. I always want to know. What if Jihoonie didn't come to check on you, hm? Would you have been able to go back out there by yourself and pretend everything's fine?" Junhui's face lowers as he lets your words wash over you.

Trying to keep your voice as comforting as possible, you lift his face to meet his eyes, a bit glazed over with a crumpled expression.

"Don't ever say sorry for wanting to be taken care of, Wen Junhui" Your words are soft, yet, sharp. "Not when you know you know I would run to the ends of the earth of you. Not when you know I know you would do the same for me if I was ever in your place"

"You deserve so much love and I won't ever sleep peacefully without knowing I've shown you how much I do"

Junhui stares at you, lips downturned and eyes suddenly glassy and shining under the harsh light of the room. You smile at him, tipping his head up a little, not wanting to let the tears fall past his waterline. He returns a watery smile with a small nod when you pass a pointed look, trying to convey just how serious your words were. He takes a shaky breath, blinking away the tears in his eyes before he looks back up at you.

"You're so good to me. Always"

"I love you" You lean forward before pressing a fleeting kiss to his temple and resting your lips against his warm skin - trying to ignore the fact that you're both still settled on the shiny floor of the bathroom.

"I love you too. Thank you"

The two of you are broken apart when a knock is heard through the door before it's pushed open and Minghao pokes his head through the gap. Jihoon shuffles in right behind Minghao, taking a moment to go a once over of their position on the floor before rolling his eyes/fondly.

"Gē, how are you?" Minghao kneels right next to you, a hand reaching up to rest against Junhui's forehead as the younger searches his face.

"I think I've caught a fever, Hao" Junhui, gazing at him with lax eyes, gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Puked my entire dinner down, my throat hurts now"

"Oh, Junnie" The younger lets his hand rest against the side of his face, thumb stroking the skin of Jun's ear comfortably. "You should've told yn, you idiot. What if it got worse, huh? You passed out or something and Jihoon hyung didn't come to check up on you? What then? Do you know how worried yn was? Stop being a dummy"

Junhui squints his eyes as Minghao scolds him, nodding his head along to the sharp words the younger throws at him with practised ease. Minghao jabs at his side for the effect yet the gentle and relieved look in his eyes under the faux rage isn't hard to notice.

"Yeah," Jihoon agrees from next to them. "You gave us quite the scare"

Junhui fixes his lips into another pout when Jihoon lightly smacks his head, looking down at him from where he's standing. The look on his face makes Jihoon sigh before he reaches to softly ruffle his hair with a carefully masked gleam of affection.

"We should get you home" Minghao's looking up at you when he says, still stroking Jun's skin, making you agree with a firm nod. Looking back at your boyfriend who opens his mouth to protest, he fixes him with one short and sharp look. "If you even try to come up with a fuck ass reason to why we should let you stay here when you look like utter shit and clearly needs to lie the fuck down, I'm gonna punch you in the eye"

"No hesitation, no remorse" Jihoon joins, fingers tightening in Junhui's hair as if to emphasize the seriousness of his threat. With an amusing helpless look in his eyes, Junhui looks over to you who's still kneeling in front of him, fiddling with his fingers on top of your lap.

"And I'll tell Seungcheol you're refusing to go to a doctor" You shrug and Junhui almost shudders. They all know how serious (and fucking terrifying) Seuncheol is when it comes to health.

Eventually - and by eventually, you mean after throwing a fit about that fact that he's being taken home and only settling down once you'd promised to let him eat breakfast for dinner for the next two nights - Junhui agrees to return home with you.

You try not to worry too much when he wobbles on his feet once Minghao and Jihoon pull him up from the floor. Understanding how he's not stable on his own, Junhui clings to the two as they steer him out of the restroom and promise to take him straight to the car.

"People are going to think I drank too much and passed out or something, oh god" You smile at the way Junhui's whine carries down the hallway away from you.

When you're back at the main area, quietly grabbing your bag and excusing yourself from everyone, some of the boys are quick to pull you aside. Once you've reassured them that yes, Jun is okay and no, he doesn't have a severe case of Diarrhea, Chan, it's a fever, you say your goodbyes to them. Jeonghan, who's close to tears and fretting like a mother hen, offers to walk you to your car yet, you're saved by Seungcheol who pulls the other to his side with an understanding smile.

"Hannie, yn will update us, don't worry" He assured the boy before turning towards you. "Take care of him, okay? I'll clear his schedule and let you know. Just- make sure he's okay, yn"

"Of course, always"

When you finally approach your car, you notice how Junhui is already settled in the passenger seat, eyes closed and breathing a little easier than before. You smile at the way Jihoon is stroking through his hair, trying to act cool about it when he notices you looking.

"I'll take him home now" You announce. "Thank you guys. Really, thank you so much. You already did so much"

"Anything for Jun" Jihoon mumbles. "He's been working hard"

Minghao moves to give you a small hug, rubbing your back soothingly. "You're okay to drive? We can get a driver for you if not"

"Yeah, I'm okay" You confirm. "I didn't have anything to drink"

"I know. But you're sure?" You know Minghao is asking if you're in a clear state of mind to handle a vehicle this deep into the night, knowing you've been a bit ruffled earlier. With a sure nod, you assure him.

"Get home safe, yn. Send me a text and make sure he's well rested, please"

With the promise of nursing Jun to your best capability, you ultimately get in the car before pulling away from the parking lot. Finally, you let out a breath, feeling the heaviness in your heart substituting while the task of bringing Junhui home and making sure he's taken care of properly for the night is pushed to the limelight of your priorities. You feel the exhaustion, all the nerves and the worries you spent on the boy you love, finally catching up to you as you drive through the city streets. Sparing a glance at the same boy now peacefully resting on the passenger seat next to you, skin lit up by the dim street lights outside, you feel your heart filling with a new wave of affection towards the only one who held your heart in his hands.

God, how you loved him.

When Junhui's fingers blindly reach across the console to lace with your own in the dark, you know his hand was the one thing you'd never allow yourself to let go of.

thank you.

[kitasgloves]

"The Only Exception"

tracklist

— ♬ "Because none of it was ever worth the risk. But you are the only exception"

— ♬ Tsukishima x Reader, timeskip, SFW, minor angst to fluff, gen reader, high school friends to lovers, no beta

From an early age, you learned that you had to grow up alone. You realize that to survive in this world, you need to have the courage to face whatever lies ahead. You have to be independent, relying on people constantly isn't ideal. Trusting people is already hard enough in the beginning, and it affects your ability to connect with your peers. Everybody seems so insincere that it hinders you from interacting. For a large portion of your life, you kept to yourself.

You may have gotten away with that in middle school but pressure sets in as you enter high school. Everybody has their group no matter where you look. And it reinforced your sense of embarrassment that you couldn't find your place in this social hierarchy. You sat near the far back of the classroom on your first day, you were done introducing yourself one by one but nobody seemed bothered to be interested in approaching you. The thought of transferring schools crossed your mind.

The first lecture began and you had difficulty following the concepts, you furrowed your eyebrows looking at the notes you made and compared them to the writings on the board. You scratched your head. You sighed and decided to ask the person next to you to see if they understood the lesson. You turned your head and saw a tall blonde wearing thin-framed glasses, he sported a bored expression as he jotted down his notes while listening to the teacher. He seems like he comprehends the lesson well so you tapped his arm.

"Uh, excuse me?"

He ignores you. Rude, you think but you shake your head and tap his arm harder. He frowns and turns to look at you, he looks annoyed. You sent him an awkward smile and whispered.

"Hey, I was wondering if you understand any of the concepts being discussed?"

"Of course I do, it's just some basic concepts."

He replies flatly. Suddenly, you felt like the dumbest person on planet Earth. Basic concepts? Why does it seem like some otherworldly language you couldn't decipher? You fall silent and accepted the fact that you don't understand jack shit from the lecture. You thought the tall guy would be nice enough to break it down for you, he looked smart too. As the bell rang, you sluggishly packed all of your things in your bag until someone slipped a piece of paper on your desk.

"Here, seems like you could use some help, dumbass"

Your face turns sour when you realize it's the tall blonde guy, he's even smirking down at you, mocking you both with his height and intelligence. You frown at him.

"I don't need your help"

"Rude, I'm just trying to be nice"

He tries to take back the piece of paper until you grab his arm, stopping him. He snickers as he watches you snatch the paper to give it one hard look. You realize it's his notes from the lecture and it was easy to understand. You were impressed and it showed on your face.

"Wow, these are...amazing"

"Of course it is, I wrote it and listened to the lecture"

"Gee, thanks"

You said, sarcastically. You carefully folded the paper and slipped it inside your bag. You head outside the school building with him trailing behind, you notice how it is raining outside and how you have unfortunately forgotten your umbrella.

"Damnit!"

You cursed. You were about to place your bag over your head when the blonde guy pulled out his umbrella and sent you a teasing smirk. What a cocky bastard! He might just be straight-up the worst person you've ever met. You scowled at him as he stood there with that smug look.

"What? Do you expect me to share an umbrella with you?"

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"

"Didn't yours teach you to be prepared at all times?"

He rebutted, you went quiet and opted to stare at your black shoes. There was a tense silence between the two of you, all you could hear were the raindrops falling on the concrete. Suddenly, you hear the blonde sigh.

"...I don't have all day, you know"

"Huh?"

"Are you gonna get your ass over here or would you rather have fun getting soaked in the rain"

Your face lights up in a fraction of a second as you rush under his umbrella. The two of you walked outside the school's property without saying a word. Your home was far so you asked him to drop you by the bus stop, you're surprised that he did. He doesn't leave until the bus comes to view a few streets away. You look up at him, your uniform only slightly wet.

"Thanks. I'm [Name] [Surname] by the way"

"Whatever, don't think we're immediately friends after this"

"You sound like you don't have any friends"

"That's none of your business"

"So, you're not gonna tell me your name?"

"No"

He replies as you let out a tiny pout. The bus arrives as you spare him a wave goodbye and a smile, the blonde only rolls his eyes. Before you can step in, he grabs your arm firmly.

"Tsukishima"

"What?"

"It's my name, idiot"

"Oh. Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Tsukki!"

You giggled at the scowl spreading across his features. You got on your seat inside the bus and watched as Tsukishima's figure shrunk from the distance. You missed the pink tint on his cheeks as he stared at the bus driving away. You and Tsukishima began talking frequently, it was more on insults, nonetheless you both interacted daily. You two got partnered up for projects or presentations much to both of your annoyance. But, both of you unexpectedly got along even if it may seem you couldn't stand each other.

Tsukishima became a friend, you know it because he invited you to eat lunch with him and his childhood friend Yamaguchi. He tells you to watch his practice match at the volleyball club, you cheer for him the whole time. He teases you for not understanding the lecture but ends up lending you his notes. When it rains, you sometimes purposely leave your umbrella to see if he still cares enough to share his umbrella with you. And he always does, albeit annoyed, it still tugged on your heartstrings.

The two of you got closer to the point where he was comfortable sharing about his interests and his family. You know he enjoyed volleyball even if he keeps saying that it's just a club, and he has a fixation on dinosaurs, something you tease him a lot for. You learned that he came from a loving family with a mother and a brother. In return, you shared your past with him.

You told him that when you were younger you saw your daddy cry and curse at the wind, he broke his own heart and you watched as he tried to reassemble it. You told him that your mama swore that she would never let herself forget. You told Tsukishima that that was the day that you promised that you'd never sing of love if it did not exist. Sharing about your parents' divorce was hard because it wasn't something easy to talk about since you're still affected by it. But as you tried to hold back the tears, Tsukishima saw through them and patted you on the head then said;

"It may have not worked for them but that doesn't mean you're supposed to get hung up about it"

That afternoon when you spilled him everything, it was inside his room during the weekend. You hugged him that day and sobbed your little heart out as he held you in silence. Slowly, he carefully stroked your hair and tried to stop you from crying by sharing his strawberry shortcake. That day, you knew you liked Tsukishima. Maybe you know somewhere deep in your soul that love never lasts. And you've got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face. And you've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance. Up until now, you have sworn to yourself that you're content with loneliness because none of it was ever worth the risk.

However, when you smile at Tsukishima and he reciprocates it during your graduation day, you're beginning to think he might be the only exception. After that, you never saw Tsukishima again, it crushed you if you're being honest. You're alone again and you felt like a fool for believing everything would change. You survived on your own at college, albeit making only a few friends. You graduated with honors and got an apartment for yourself.

You buried that stupid high school crush on Tsukishima but it resurfaced when you saw him at the new museum. You had no idea he worked there. You decided to avoid him but both of your eyes met before you could flee. It felt like the air was violently knocked out of your lungs, you recognize the horrid butterflies swirling inside your stomach when he tilted his head at you. He didn't change much, if anything, he grew more handsome. You gulped.

"[Name]?"

"...Hi, it's been a while"

"Didn't expect to see you here. Where have you been?"

Tsukishima tries to catch up with you. It seemed like he had matured greatly. You fall comfortable in your conversation that you two went out for coffee after his shift. He made you feel like a teenager again, smiling and giggling. He reminded you of your buried feelings for him. It was true that you fell for him during your first year but never dared to tell him until graduation, how pathetic.

Later, Tsukishima insisted on taking you home. Your head screamed to decline but the throbbing of your heart was louder. You invited him inside your home to chat a little longer and before you know it he's getting near you. It felt so surreal when he caressed your cheek and kissed you. Shocked, you froze. Ultimately, you surrender by kissing him back. You couldn't wrap your head around how you ended up sleeping beside him, you two made out until one of you grew tired. It didn't help that Tsukishima didn't offer any explanation. So, you lie there staring at the ceiling, doubting that the blonde reciprocated your feelings despite the kiss you shared.

You've got a tight grip on reality but you can't let go of what's in front of you here. You know that he'll leave you in the morning when you wake up. And leave you with some kind of proof it's not a dream. With a few tears slipping from your eyes, you fell asleep with a heavy heart. Just as you suspected, Tsukishma was nowhere to be found in your apartment, and the only proof you had was a note saying he left for work before you woke. You ignored the ache in your chest as you got ready for today. It was cruel for fate to let you reunite with him only to have your heart broken. You think back to your mother and father and thought how love didn't work for them. You couldn't stop yourself from bawling.

It was a week later when you received a knock on the door, when you answered it was Tsukishima. Bewildered, you asked why he was here as you tried your best not to crumble right in front of him.

"I need to talk to you"

He says. Was he going to explain what he did previously was an impulsive decision? Was he going to tell you that he regrets kissing you? God, your eyes were already wet before the blonde could even open his mouth. 

"I'm sorry for what I did last time, [Name]"

"I get it. I know you regret kissing me that night-"

"What?"

"I said, I know you regret-"

"Regret? You think I regret what happened that night?"

There was a hopeful skip of a heartbeat. Tsukishima sighs and runs a hand through his hair, he looks at you and you know he sees your glistening eyes. You can tell by how his face dropped.

"What am I supposed to think? You kissed me and left the next morning, Kei"

"That's what I regretted, [Name]. Not the kiss"

"You regretted leaving the next morning?"

"Yes, because I was..."

He pauses and he hears you sniff. Seemingly panicked, Tsukishima grabs your hand and firmly squeezes it. His eyes gazed straight at your soul and it almost scared you.

"Because I was scared..."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of telling you that I love you"

Suddenly, you couldn't breathe. It sounded too good to be true. Your mouth was agape as you struggled to find the words to speak. Was he lying? However, when you look at him and notice the flushed look on his face and the gentleness in his eyes, you discover it is the opposite.

"You...love me?"

"I've always had, dumbass"

"But why?"

"I don't have all day to explain why I fell for you but in summary, you make me do things I wouldn't do"

"Like what?"

"Make exceptions"

Tsukishima elaborates that he has never shared his notes with anyone back in high school. He says that he has never anticipated sharing an umbrella with someone. He told you has never comforted anyone before when they cried. He has never skipped volleyball practice because you needed help studying for the exam. He has never packed extra food for someone to share with. And he has dated others but never made the same exceptions for them. It has always been you.

"Kei, I...I love you too. I've never fallen in love with anybody else"

"Wow, shit. Now, I'm kinda regretting confessing"

"No, you don't"

You finally smile at him and he does the same. He goes in for an embrace and you instantaneously melt in his arms. Tsukishima goes to plant gentle kisses on your skin.

"I left at work and skipped volleyball practice for this so you owe me"

"Why did you do that, Kei?"

"Because none of it was ever worth the risk. But you are the only exception"

Tsukishima sees the grin on your face, a smug look spread all over your features. After all, he has granted you the privilege of being his one and only, the one who owns his heart the one he's willing to risk it all. His only exception. You were on your way to believing.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[rinhaler]

Bright Light, I’m Like a Moth

CHAPTER SUMMARY: as much as you hate Megumi, it seems like you can't help yourself around him.

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia, degradation, handjob (m+f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation.

WORDS : 7.3k

notes : do we hate the reader yes or no

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

—

Even if you were wearing nothing at all you’re sure you would have still felt like you were vacationing on the sun. It was difficult to tell where you were while still under the influence.

You weren’t sure if you’d been high for minutes, hours or days.

Megumi couldn’t stop telling you that he loves you and he was going to get you home.

He wouldn’t have let this happen to you, though, if he really loved you. He's just as hot as you are but you're clearly suffering the worst of it, completely dehydrated and out of your mind.

You can only hope things will feel better when you get to your room.

He manages to carry you in his arms all of the way to your room, your heart rate rising by the second the more you lose yourself to your paranoia. Your head lolls and the speed of his strides dries the tears on your face as the air hits you.

You're set down as he struggles to open the door; but he wraps your arm around his shoulder to keep you upright.

“’m so thirsty, Megumi, I can’t—”

He helps lower you down onto your mattress. Your body collapsing into the cloud-like softness as tears silently roll down your eyes. He isn’t in the room anymore. Your brain is challenging you, questioning you, bullying you. He’s left you alone to deal with this all by yourself. To suffer. To stress. His grand plan to finally drive you to complete and utter despair.

“Can you sit up for me, O’Keeffe?” you hear him say.

You don’t move anything except your head, managing to see him between the valley of your breasts resting on the balls of his feet.

There's a strange sensation throughout your body. Like you've got pins and needles everywhere. Your whole body is tingling and your lip is wobbling as you sit up and face him.

Your face glittering like the crystal chandeliers he remembers gawking at in your parents manor home. “I got you water, drink it slowly.”

His instruction goes in one ear and out the other. You drink every last drop quicker than he can blink, a lot of it spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

It isn’t enough.

You feel as if you’ve swallowed a bag of sand and had your throat cut.

More.

You do your best to stand to your feet and rush to the bathroom. He follows you in and watches you drink the water directly from the tap. He lets it happen, for a little while, before pulling you away and back to bed.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” you ask him. He just laughs and shakes his head.

“No, princess, you’re not. Not gonna let that happen, alright? I love you.” he says. You get up again and try to get back into the bathroom, but you’re intercepted. He pins you against the wall and cages you in. Your chest is swelling with emotion, mainly fear. But anticipation, too.

“Stop saying you love me.”

“Why? I just, I love you. You’re so lovely, I love you.” he blabbers and you shake your head in anger.

“You don’t bully people you love. You don’t peer pressure or blackmail people you love. I’m just a fucking project to you. Y-Yuuji would never do this to me.” you stutter, trying to stop yourself from giving him the satisfaction of your tears. He grits his teeth and looks away for a split second, and then his focus is entirely on you.

“Fuck. Yuuji.”

“I’d love to, Megumi. But unfortunately I’m stuck here with you instead of him. And I’m— I—” your voice gets caught and disappears entirely in your throat. He tilts his head and moves his face closer into yours. So close you think he might kiss you again. So close your noses are almost skimming off each other.

“Say it,”

“I’m so— I’m so… lonely. I miss him. I miss being loved.” you explain as your voice cracks. Your eyes are beginning to swell with tears and he can’t resist but wipe them away for you. His thumb wanders and catches on your lower lip. The fat, puffy flesh follows his digit and then springs back into place.

Divine, he thinks.

“I’m telling you I love you and you’re telling me to stop.”

“You don’t love me, r-really,” you whimper as you try and find a way for each of you to see sense in such a hopeless situation, “you’re just high and— you couldn’t ever love me like he does.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m going to die because of you. Tonight, like this, in this shitty hotel room. I’m not gonna make it to the morning and I’ll never be loved by him again. By anyone. I’m dying and I’m broken. And it’s your fault.”

“I love you.” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You turn your head to force him to kiss your cheek instead. You can’t do this again.

“Stop it.”

“I love you, I really love you.”

“You broke me and you’re gonna kill me, you still won’t stop.”

“Because I love you.”

“Stop!”

“Baby,”

He mutters into your supple skin. And for some reason, it breaks you even more.

You face him head on; and he smiles, because you’ve lost.

He, as always, is the winner. You’re letting him take advantage of you because you’re just so God damn gullible. Maybe he does really love you.

He doesn’t know his truth himself, honestly. All he knows is that he has a lot of love to give, and he wants to give it to you.

His lips are so soft but so strong. Yours are weak and feeble, which is why you’re allowing him to take the lead. Letting him kiss you however he likes. There's minimal tongue but a whole lot of passion in the heat of this one intimate kiss.

What are you doing?

Is it so wrong to seek companionship when you’re lonely?

Yes, when you have a boyfriend, of course it is. But you can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s lifting your leg onto his hip and grinding into your core.

“Megumi,” you mewl, pulling away from the kiss but reattaching yourself to him instantly after speaking.

“What is it?” he asks, concernedly.

He begins to kiss down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, and atop your breast as he waits for you to tell him what’s on your mind. You can hardly form a thought let alone tell him what you want to say.

“We shouldn’t— we shouldn’t do this, I’m scared, Megumi,” you tell him quietly.

It doesn’t deter him, though, he can’t stop now.

He didn’t know anyone could be as soft and pliable as you. How could he have let himself waste so much time hurting you when he could have been controlling you instead?

“But I’m so lonely.” you sigh, unable to stop the words from falling out. Each nick of his teeth against your skin and delicate soft peck on your body is like a combination code to unlock more secrets from you.

“Do you want me to make it better?” he wonders, softly. It’s almost a secret confession between him and your tits. He doesn’t look into your eyes as he asks. Too enamoured by your breasts as he cups one and kisses the other.

Such simple words equate to such a life changing question. If he were Toji asking that question, you assume he’d suggest something like scolding Megumi and taking you to a drive thru for a burger and fries.

If it were Yuuji asking you think he’d buy more snacks and watch The Shining with you for the millionth time.

If it were your parents they’d probably offer to have Yuuji shipped off permanently to some foreign country and throw money at you.

But you aren’t with any of them right now.

You’re with Megumi.

And no matter what situation you find yourself in with him, you can’t help but dwell on the past. He’s never tried to make anything better for you before. He’s actively pursued every course of action that would ultimately make your life worse.

In the time you’ve known him, he’s only been truly kind to you in the last two days.

Yesterday his idea of making you feel better was to let you sit next to him on the bus rather than with the evil girls. It was going bowling and to the aquarium and buying you a shark plushie.

But, today, he’s gotten you high. He’s made you someone you doubt you’d recognise if you were to look in the mirror. He’s had his tongue down your throat and lips all over your body.

He’s showing love to your body in the way that only a true lover should.

The way Yuuji should.

His way of making you feel better isn’t right. It isn’t something you should even be considering.

But you’re too foolish to realise what you are now.

You wouldn’t hesitate to slap him in the face before getting to this point. You would have scoffed and told him where to go when he offered you drugs. You wouldn’t have crawled into bed with him because you were cold.

But, for now, you aren’t you. You aren’t your own person.

You’re Megumi’s.

“Help me, Megumi.” you whisper in a desperate, begging tone. He looks up at you, then. Glimmering green eyes searching for any ounce of doubt in your facial expression.

It isn’t there.

His body presses against yours, pushing you further into the wall as he kisses you deeply.

Has he secretly wanted this all along?

Have you?

He turns you around so that your ass is against his crotch. He kisses into the crook of your neck as he guides you in the direction of your bed.

Your eyes are closed, softly, as you allow yourself to melt into the false sense of romance you’re feeling from him. But they spring open again once he pushes you down onto all fours on the mattress. He flips your tutu up and grabs two fistfuls of your white fishnets. You gasp when you hear the dramatic, tell tale sound of him ripping them apart. Once he can perfectly see your panty-clad mound, he runs a finger up between your lips.

“W-Wait, Megumi wait.” you protest. He stops and helps you roll onto your back. He climbs on top of you and kisses upwards from your belly button to between your breasts. “I don’t feel comfortable.” you confess. He smirks into your skin, giving you a lengthier kiss against your sternum.

“I’m high, babe. Goin’ too fast for you? What can I do?” he mumbles clumsily against you. You wriggle beneath him until he pays attention to you properly.

“I’d like to change. Could you, um, help me again?” you ask him hopefully, fluttering your eyelashes like butter wouldn’t melt.

You’re greeted with a simpering smile as he rises from above you and helps you sit upright. You watch him as he sits on the ground and begins to untie the laces on your platform boots. He tosses them over his shoulders, not caring where they end up. He reaches under your tutu and starts to pull down your fishnets.

“Panties off too, yeah? Do you want me to look away?”

“Um—”

“I think… you want me to see your body anyway, right?”

“I don’t want you to look right away… could you get my—”

He’s already standing up and searching for your fluffy pyjamas. Once again he avoids looking as he pulls your underwear down for you, concentrating solely on the ground as he helps you step into your shorts.

He manages to help pull your tutu down over your shorts to preserve a little bit of your modesty.

You stay still as he moves behind you. You’re sitting between his legs as you feel him fiddle with the hook of your bra. He pulls it off for you like he had the prior evening. But this time, neither of you are in a rush to cover your flesh.

Your vest is by his side, and you’re looking over your shoulder. Not for the garment, no, you’re looking for him. Unlike last night, you want him to grope you.

He does.

He’s nibbling on your earlobe as he massages your naked breasts. You can’t help but groan when he takes your nipples between his finger and thumb. The way he tweaks and pulls them so perfectly, you can feel your brand new shorts become ruined as you can’t help but soak them from him touch.

“I want to touch you, down there.” he whispers into your ear, it rushes immediately to your cunt and you’re arching your back against his body.

You want him to touch you there, too.

Badly.

“M-My vest, please.” you request. He pulls away from your ear and you’re both fixated on your vest as if it’s an unwelcome observer to your private party. There is nothing in the room except you, him, your breath, and the vest. Both of your movements have stilled as you stare it down. A limp puddle of purple intruding on a good time; the shed skin of a snake who is about to be reborn.

“I don’t think you need it,” his hums hushed carefully into the nape of your neck. You bite your lip and close your eyes, the crown of your head relaxing against his shoulder. “I think… right now… you just need me to make you feel better.”

You do.

Though you’re certain anyone could be saying the same to you right now and you’d agree with them.

Whether it be Megumi, his father, or even Gojo.

The pain your feeling and the high your flying are a deathly mixture of sin and punishment that you can’t seem to escape. There’s only one answer, one cure, and Megumi is the one offering it to you. You move your forehead so it rests against his as he waits for you to answer him.

It’s wrong, you know it, but not really. All you know is that Yuuji isn’t here and you’re paralysed with misery. Megumi is giving you a solution. You’re both in a hellish paradise with so much love to give and each are desperate to receive it, and there’s only two of you here.

You nod against him and your lips slot together like they belong against one another. Like he is your boyfriend, not Yuuji.

Megumi is evil and Yuuji is so perfect.

He’s so perfect that you can’t help but cry thinking about him even while Megumi’s lips are on yours. He pulls away, only a little, to hold the sides of your head as he kisses you harder. It’s more urgent, an apparent desperation behind each suction of lips pulling apart.

He guides you down onto your back. His hands move down your chest, along your curves and underneath your thigh. He pulls your leg up so that it’s wrapped around his waist. Lazy yet emotional ruts of his hips stimulate your already sopping heat.

No matter how badly you want to pull away from him so that you can breathe, he doesn’t let you. All you want is to pant out a soft, breathy moan and earn a moments reprieve from his actions, but he can’t let you.

The knowledge that you’re with him and he’s with you and you’re just as pathetic and needy as each other is mind-numbingly intoxicating.

You’re so good but just look how bad you’re being.

You want him just as badly as he wants you. And yet, neither of you know why. As far as you’re both aware, you despise each other. You are worlds apart and there’s nothing between you but anger, contempt, and disgust. But maybe that isn’t the whole truth after all.

Maybe he’s had feelings for you since you first met.

Since you complimented his art.

Perhaps he wanted to push you away and make things impossible so he knew there would be no chance for anything to ever happen between you.

But why would anything have happened?

You’re with Yuuji.

You’re with Yuuji.

And that hasn’t stopped you from being in bed with Megumi right now. Would things have worked out better if you tried to be friends rather than enemies? Or would that have lead you down this very same path?

He isn’t sure if it’s true.

He isn’t sure if he had feelings for you from that very first moment or if that’s just the hidden romantic in him trying to create a love story that isn’t there.

He isn’t sure if he has feelings for you at all other than hate and lust. He wants to fuck you, now, because he’s aroused. He’s drugged up to the eyeballs and it seems like the right thing to do despite how wrong it is. You hold no feelings for him, he’s sure. You hate each other but you’re about to do something only lovers do.

“I— Megumi, I don’t want to have s-sex.” you speak almost assertively. It’s powerful to hear you talk, he thinks. And so confidently too. Do you think he loves you, for real? Is it the prospect of sex that has turned you into someone entirely new or is it the possibility that you’re beneath someone who loves you?

He pulls away, perplexed by your words. What did you think he meant by helping you? Admittedly he was more interested in helping himself, but it seems you’ve come to your senses.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, somewhat concernedly. His eyes widen excitedly when you shake your head. Now he knows what you want.

Is this some sort of compromise in your deluded little mind? His dominant hand slithers down your stomach and tickles you as his fingers trace along your body. You gasp when his fingers breach the waistband of your shorts.

He’s stunted, for a moment. Your eyes focus on one another, almost asking if this is really happening, before he licks his lips. Your lungs expand and collapse with each passing moment.

Yes, it is happening.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” he whispers. Immediately your face burns hot with shame and embarrassment as you feel him toy with your slippery folds.

“I’m so— please, I just wanna— I need to feel better.” you beg wantonly. He smirks as he begins circling around your little pearl but not quite touching it. Legs shaking and heart beating rapidly.

“You will.” he assures you.

It has always embarrassed you to receive pleasure from a partner. Not because you don’t like it, you just have no idea where to look. Yuuji thinks it’s cute when you hide your face from him when he fingers you in this position.

It’s bizarre to him that you’re so shy even after so long, especially considering he eats you out on a regular basis and has made his face your personal throne. He lets you, though, whatever you need to do to be comfortable is alright with him.

No matter what, he thinks you look beautiful.

But Megumi isn’t Yuuji.

The minute he sees you trying to hide your face behind your hands he stops touching you. When you come out of hiding, you look to see him sucking his fingers clean of your mess. It’s hot, but you aren’t quite sure why he felt the need to stop.

Air is knocked out of your lungs when you feel him grab each of your wrists. He pins them above your head with a furious look in his eye.

A strict warning.

“Don’t do that again. Got it? I need to see your face so I know what I’m doing.” he explains. You nod quickly, understanding him perfectly.

He grabs a fistful of your hair so that you can’t move your face, forcing you to stare at him as he searches for your clit yet again. He goes slow at first, finally touching it instead of teasing around it.

You think you might burst into flames because you’re so humiliated.

He isn’t letting you take your eyes off him and he’s staring at you like an animal in the night. The only indication that he’s still human is when his eyes twitch and eyebrows falter whenever you release a heavier breath.

He picks up the pace and you can’t stand it, fingers grasping into the pillows by your head as he draws more pleasure from flicking over your throbbing clit. Your mouth falls open to moan and he copies you in faux sympathy. His mouth turning to a smile as he laughs at your whimpering state.

“There we go. There’s your little slut button.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to keep your cool. But it’s useless. Your legs open wider for him and even with his fingers laced through your hair you can’t help but throw your head further back into the pillows beneath you.

“I’m so— I’m so h-happy, Megumi. You’re so good— at this.”

He’s almost insulted that you thought he wouldn’t be good at giving pleasure with his fingers. It lights a match under the ball of hot air which is Megumi Fushiguro as it makes him feel somewhat threatened.

He knows he’s good.

And by God, he’ll make sure you know it too.

Your toes begin to curl as you feel his lips latch onto one of your nipples. It’s a dirty trick that manages to bring you that much closer to your orgasm each and every time. With that and the way he’s expertly rubbing your clit you know you’re soon to be a goner.

“M-Megumi, please slow down. I’m tryin’ to hang o-on a bit lo-onger, here.” you request. He holds your nipple lightly between his teeth and smiles, shaking his head in refusal. You groan when he sucks and releases it with a pop.

“Stop hangin’ on. If you wanna feel better, let go.” he demands. He begins to pay the same attention to your opposite nipple as he carries on stimulating your pulsating bead. He yanks your hair tight as your hips begin to buck wildly against his fingertips. Your pussy desperately searching his touch to help you along quicker than he’s delivering.

Your vision turns to a starry night as you begin singing his name in approval. Each wave of orgasmic pleasure gushing through your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes again and again. You feel him kiss your breast softly as you plummet from the never ending high. The kindness doesn’t last, however, as he stands on his knees and hooks his fingers into your shorts.

“Lift your fuckin’ ass. I want these off, now.” he tells you stringently. You obey, as always, raising your hips so he can rip the purple shorts away from your body.

For some reason you instinctively press your knees together as your body goes into high alert. They don’t stay like that, of course. He places his palms on your kneecaps and pries your legs apart.

“Don’t close your legs unless I say so. Until I’m done with you. I’m not finished yet, you haven’t even let me look at your pussy properly.”

He looks down to see your slippery, shimmering cunt. It’s intoxicating. So little and perfect and pink. So cute, like you. He holds your mound and uses his thumb to pull back the hood of your clit. He grins, watching it throb and pulse because of him. He bends down to spit on it which makes you moan.

You’re even louder when he attaches his lips around it and begins to suck.

“Oh fuck! Megumi, please, I can’t. I’m too sensitive I can’t cum like that—”

“Do you ever shut up?” he asks as he raises his face from between your legs. “Just having a little fun with you, I’m not an idiot. But since you want to rush…” he trails off, a menacing tone behind his words.

You jolt when you feel him grab your entire face in one hand and pinch your cheeks. Your lips pucker and he can’t help but grin at how truly ridiculous you look. How can you look so fucked out and drunk from his fingers but still have a glimmer of craving behind your twinkling eyes?

“Open your legs. Wider.” he instructs.

You spread them as far as they’ll possibly go, an overwhelming desire to please him overcoming you. He pulls back a little, and at that point you notice a string of drool pooling on his lower lip. His mouth hangs open as he slides a finger inside of your entrance. You squeak at the intrusion, you squeal at the unrelenting thrusts he delivers as it batters you g-spot.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he informs you, making blood rush to your ears in an attempt to block out his words.

“T-Think ‘m gonna cum. I think—”

“Already? Fuck, it’s ‘cause you’re tight baby. Like a little virgin cunt. Bet you can’t even take more than one finger, can you?”

“N-No. I mean, no. I ca- I can’t take— two is— fuck, too much f’me.” you tell him, and he snickers.

“Knew it. You’ve got a princess pussy. Nice ‘n tight and she creams like a dream when you treat her right. Gonna show me how you cum on my fingers for doing a good job? Gonna give me my reward for makin’ you feel better?”

“FUCK, Megumi. You’re so— hnngg—!” you cut yourself off as he brings you to yet another small death. He bites his lip as he watches you squirm and whine in pleasure. His fingers still not giving up their assault on your sensitive insides and gummy interior. “I love you—” you breathe shallowly.

Almost imperceptible, but he hears you. When he said it earlier, he didn’t mean a fucking word of it. He’s high, and so are you. So once again, you’re just devils telling tales.

“You look like you’re feeling better, O’Keeffe.” he jokes, you begin to giggle once he pulls his fingers out of your pussy. “I wanna sleep but I’m still wired. Are you sleepy?” he questions.

“Mm-mm.” you hum, shaking your head. “I wanna… I want you to feel better, too.” you inform him.

“How are you gonna do that?”

You smile cheekily at him as you raise your leg between his. You press around his crotch area with your toes. It was already apparently just how hard he was from your dancing and then hearing you moan for him. But apparently he hadn’t expected you to be so brazen. He lets your fingers explore his upper body. Grazing over his pecs and abs as you continue to torment his cock with your foot.

“Are you gonna get me off properly? I’m not super into feet, babe. Willing to try if you’ve got the talent for it, though.”

“No, ‘m not using my feet. Wanna hold you in my hand, take it out f’me Megumi.” you tell him. He scoops you up in his arms and sits you upright at the top of the bed. He sits beside you and begins to unbuckle his jeans. You can see the agonising strain in the form of his bulge in his boxers once he pulls the zipper down.

You know immediately he has an impressive size and you aren’t quite sure if you’re confident enough to deal with it. Yuuji is big too, though, so maybe you’ll be okay.

He groans when he moves his underwear enough to free his cock. It’s heavy and craving, thick and full of lustrous desire. Your mouth is more or less watering at the sight of him. Perfect, you think. Perfect size. Perfect shape. Perfectly defined.

Perfect.

“Are you scared?” he grumbles, his speech is so relaxed it’s almost idle. You can’t answer, because you aren’t sure. You aren’t scared, but you feel like you should be. It’s just a dick, after all. Yuuji has one. Yuuji wasn’t your first, either. But this is Megumi Fushiguro bearing himself to you. He’s willing to let you hear him at his most intimate and vulnerable. And you’re crossing another line. Everything you do with him, every second you spend with him, is another betrayal against Yuuji.

“Show me how you like it.” you tell him.

He takes your hand in his and wraps it around his cock. His hand holds tightly onto yours as he demonstrates how tight he likes it and how fast he likes the strokes. He lets go and allows you to take over, hoping you’re capable of doing what he’s taught you. A slight whimper leaves him as you swipe your thumb over his dripping slit.

“Mmm, leaking s’much Megumi.”

“I won’t last long, been needin’ to cum since I felt you on me last night.” he alerts you.

It only spurs you on. You use his precum to your advantage and lube up his cock with it. You even drool all over him for good measure. It’s so erotic and lewd sounding as you begin to pump him furiously. The way his chest rises and stutters with each rub of your fist is so God damn dreamy. Seeing him so helpless and at the mercy of your touch is heavenly.

“Keep going, a lil faster,” he tells you. It doesn’t go unnoticed how his hips start grinding into you. It’s nice to know you’re equally as impatient when it comes to reaching your climax. ‘Unhh’ and ‘ahh’ language escape him as you don’t let up. Allowing him to fuck your fist as you meet his thrusts with ten times as much vigour.

“Fuck, are you close? You look so pretty when you moan.” you tell him.

“Shut up or you’ll put me off. Tighter, squeeze it tighter. Ah— f-uck oh, hnng.” he finishes. He squirts a copious amount of white, viscous cream which you’re more than happy to milk out of him. Every last drop as his cock flexes and shoots it out. It splashes up his abs and all over your hand. He uses his free hand to push your face into his by the crown of your head.

You straddle him as you kiss, uncaring of the mess between you as his cock begins to soften. It’s a messy, drool filled kiss as your tongues tangle and you breathe against each other.

Into each other.

He carries you into the bathroom, still kissing all of the way there. He sits you down on the counter next to the sink as he undresses. As you wash your hands, he starts up the shower. He stands beside it for a while until it reaches a perfect temperature.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. He leads the two of you into the shower, allowing the water to warm you both.

He lathers shampoo and conditioner through your hair as you wash your body. You do the same for him, with great difficulty, as you stand on your tip toes so that you can wash his hair properly. You kiss under the water as the shower rinses away all of the suds.

He gets out before you, wrapping a towel around his waist and then holding one open for you to step into. You spend time with him sitting on top of your mattress with nothing but your towels protecting your bodies. He brushes your hair for you. You want to do the same for him, but you start falling asleep.

“You can’t sleep in your towel.” he reminds you. He walks away and returns just as quickly, the mattress sinking behind you once he takes his seat again. “Here, lift your arms,” you do, and you’re greeted to the soft texture of your purple, fluffy vest. “You’ve ruined your shorts. Were those the only pyjamas you bought?”

“Uh,” you pause for a moment as you think, “yeah, they were. But I bought some sweatpants to travel home in. If Gojo is picking us up in the morning, I’ll just wear what I sleep in for the car ride home.” you explain. He gets up, rifling through your shopping bags until he finds them.

“Up.”

You stand to your feet, allowing the towel to drop and pool around your feet. This time, you don’t care if he looks up while he dresses you. You step into the grey sweatpants one foot at a time and wait for him to pull them up your legs.

“Thank you.”

“Get into bed, I need to get ready.” he almost snaps at you. You get cosy under the duvet and hold tightly onto Gerald.

You don’t look at him while he changes his clothes. He has once again decided to forgo his t-shirt and wear matching sweatpants with you to bed. The sound of his bed creaking is like a stab in the heart.

You aren’t sure what you had expected. He isn’t yours and you aren’t his. You’re just classmates in a bad situation sharing a hotel room. He has his own bed and you have yours. You have a boyfriend, but he isn’t here. It doesn’t matter, though. You should only want what’s yours. You shouldn’t want anyone else. You shouldn’t crave another man’s touch. And yet—

“I need you, Megumi.” you speak quietly.

The words are simple and bland. Room for interpretation and nothing too specific. Do you want to fuck? Do you want a hug? It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t need Megumi. But he knows exactly what you want. He gets out of his own bed and you feel a sense of relief when he joins you in yours. His arms wrap around your torso and he nuzzles his nose into your freshly washed hair that smells like cinnamon and toffee.

This town is a horror setting. This room is a mystery. Four walls that you hope will keep your scandalous secret.

It’s all coming to an end, tomorrow.

—

The levels of regret you both feel are infinite. You think he’s been awake longer than you, but he didn’t want to let go. You woke with his arm still wrapped around you, holding you close. Once you stirred, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. You did the same, endlessly entertained by the disgusting popcorn ceiling.

You didn’t utter a word.

Nor did he.

You took turns using the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready. The atmosphere is foul. Impossibly awkward and uncomfortable as you shuffle around each other and still can’t find it in either of you to speak.

He doesn’t even fill you in on what’s happening with Gojo. He declines his calls and texts him instead so that he doesn’t have to break his silence. He doesn’t tell you when he arrives. He simply walks towards the exit and assumes you aren’t dumb enough to stay behind.

Your hair is thrown into a bun and you are painfully aware of what a mess you are. You’re holding Gerald under your arm and carrying your shopping bags in your hands all while struggling to close the hotel room door behind you. Megumi is way ahead of you, and you aren’t sure whether you should bother trying to catch up.

You hand your room key to the receptionist. There’s barely enough energy in you to smile and say goodbye. It’s even worse when you step outside. Gojo is standing with a cheesy grin on his face as he leans against his car.

“Good morning, you two. Let’s get you kiddos home, huh?” he smiles. He unlocks the trunk, and you’re appreciative when he rushes over to grab your bags for you.

It doesn’t surprise you at all that Megumi takes shotgun. You’re more than happy to sit in the backseat and watch the sky. There’s a generic, mundane radio station playing. Maybe even Gojo has a limit on energy in the mornings. You’d half expected him to be playing something annoying just to piss you both off.

“How was your weekend?” he asks the two of you.

“Awful, obviously.”

“Aw don’t be like that. This is a nice town, I bet you found something to do. You’re just being sour because both Toji and I have lives outside of you. But I’m here now, aren’t I? We’ll be home in no time. Or maybe you’re just tired... up all night? Take a nap, Megumi.”

“W-What are you implying? I—”

“He knows I do drugs, O’Keeffe, relax. Couldn’t even do that in peace because of princess buzzkill back there.”

You swallow your tongue and decide to keep silent for the remainder of the journey from that point on. Your eyes are watering but you just about manage to hold it together.

You’re sitting directly behind him, it seemed like the lesser of two evils. But he can see you in the side mirror of the car. You’re wrestling with your conscience and the enormous mistake you made together. You jump a little when you hear your phone ping. You hadn’t expected to hear from anyone today and you begin to pray that it isn’t one of your parents.

Hopefully just a stupid spam email.

It's Megumi.

You don’t remember giving him your number. He must have done it when you were sleeping, or high.

Megumi: Why did you make things weird? You: I didn’t. You gave me the silent treatment. Megumi: Sure. What now? You: Don’t.

“Are you texting Yuuji? I haven’t heard from him since he left. I know it’s only been a week but it’s weird.” Gojo speaks directly to you.

And that is what does you in.

The fact that your boyfriend hadn’t even been gone an entire week before you decided to fool around with someone else.

Someone worse.

Someone who used to be his best friend.

Gojo looks alarmed as you burst into tears, almost slamming the breaks to figure out what happened. Megumi just huffs, though, making him think it isn’t that serious.

“I’m sure I’m wrong but, I’m picking up an odd vibe. I’m usually pretty perceptive but—”

“Gojo shut up. I’m not in the mood and she’s fucking crying, whatever you wanna say just say it instead of doing your annoying step-dad shtick.” Megumi barks, eyes scrunching as he immediately faces the window to avoid making eye contact with Gojo.

“Alright, alright. Grumpy. I wasn’t going to say anything. Sorry for making you cry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have assumed it was him. It’s gotta be tough being without him. I’m sorry, really. And I’m still around for whatever you need.” he tells you.

“T-Thanks Gojo, appreciate it.”

It’s silent for a while. A surprisingly long time given that you’re in a car with someone as insufferable and annoying as Satoru Gojo. He’s a nice guy, you think. But God does he know how to press people’s buttons.

“Though I’m sure you two hooking up probably took the edge off missing him so much.”

“Megumi, you told him?!”

“You just told him, you idiot.”

Your eyes hold shut as you replay what you just did. The oldest trick in the God damn book and you fucking fell for it. So much for your secret staying between those four walls. You aren’t sure if your heart has stopped beating or is beating too fast for you to register. It’s all over, now. He’s going to tell Yuuji and you’re going to lose him.

You’re going to lose everything.

“Oh-ho! That actually worked, I can’t believe it. I knew you had a thing for one of the Fushiguro’s. So you guys… did you fuck?”

“No!” you objects instantly.

“We gave each other handjobs.” Megumi tells him.

“Megumi!”

“You opened your big mouth so may as well set him straight,” Megumi snips at you. “I convinced her to get high and the E made us stupid. She loves Yuuji, it was a mistake on both parts.”

“Gojo, please, I know Yuuji is one of your closest friends but—”

“It’s really none of my business. You’re both fun to annoy so I play around. But secrets aren’t mine to tell. I’m not going to interfere with your relationship, it’s not my place. I’m sure each of you had your reasons.”

“He’s good at keeping secrets, one of the best things about him. Unless they’re about my dad, any chance to get him into shit.”

“That’s because I hate Toji,” he laughs. “And he hates me. That, however, is irrelevant. I’ll take this to my grave for everyone’s sake. I’ve never done drugs so I’m inclined to believe you both were acting out of character because of it. Especially if it’s new for you, sweetheart.”

“I can’t— I really can’t thank you enough, I—”

“That being said,” he interrupts, holding up a finger to silence you both so he can speak. “I don’t believe for a second there isn’t something brewing between you. Tensions are high, I could hear it through the phone when you called me. You’ve opened Pandora’s box and whether it was a mistake or not, there’s a connection between you now that will keep bringing you back together. Deny it all you like, but what happened won’t be a one-time thing. Just be careful, there’s gonna be some heartbreak down the line.”

A deathly silence falls upon the car. Neither you nor Megumi know what to say to him. Your eyes find each other's in the side mirror but you quickly avert your stare as you focus on the clouds in the sky instead.

There’s no way you can let yourself fall into a pattern of seeking comfort in Megumi while Yuuji is away.

It was one mistake.

People make mistakes all of the time. People bounce back from their mistakes, too! You can’t be with him again. Maybe you need to cut him off for good. It’s not like you can’t trust yourself around Megumi. But being near him knowing what you did is going to be a heavy burden of guilt to bear.

Of all of the things he’s done, this has got to be the worst. You know it’s your fault too. You know you could have said no at any point. But you’re sure if he didn’t insist on getting you high it wouldn’t have happened.

You hate him.

You fucking hate him.

He’s like a tornado going above and beyond to destroy everything. How you could let yourself see humanity and kindness in him is embarrassing.

It’s humiliating that you let yourself trust him. You fell for him this weekend. You fell for the idea that he could be something he isn’t.

Normal.

He’s evil, plain and simple. This was a calculated move. A pre-planned scheme to really destroy you in the worst way possible. And you only have yourself to blame.

You’re the one who let him.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

[jae-bummer]

Right Here With Me: The Morning After

Request: By popular demand: the morning after “Right Here With Me”

Pairing: Seventeen S.Coups x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Romance

.

Coups POV

It was quite possible that he had never hated himself more than he did in this moment. With a dry mouth, a raging headache, and his whole-body sore, he rolled towards his bedside table in search of a drink that did not contain any percentage of alcohol.

Flopping over a bit unceremoniously, he paused when he heard a soft grunt. Opening his eyes despite how loud the sun was being, he winced toward the warm body he had pushed into.

"Y/N?" he croaked. He wasn't sure if he was too quiet or if he had even said your name at all as you remained still.

Furrowing his brows (which was a huge mistake, any movement hurt) he tried to remember what exactly had happened last night. After working in the studio for a bit, the hip hop unit decided to blow off some steam at a local karaoke room. It only took a few minutes to realize that the night would be much more fun if you were there, so he sent a few mildly peer pressuring texts until you had eventually shown up.

That was where things started to get a bit fuzzy. He had drank. A lot.

Had he dedicated Drunk in Love to you?

Smacking a hand over his face and dragging it down, he let out a small groan. Surely, he didn't, but he had the worst feeling that he did.

His mind was a mismatched scrapbook of memories that didn't entirely make sense. He could slightly recall you helping him home. He remembered pulling you into bed with him. And he remembered...

Oh god.

Because you're mine. You always have been.

Smacking his palm against his forehead (and instantly regretting it) he tried not to panic. Sure, you were pretty much the light of his life, but you didn't need to know that!

But you were here... and if his warped memory was serving him correctly and he did actually say that to you...it could mean that you possibly felt at least even a little bit the same?

Or maybe you were terrified to leave him alone and risk him choking on his own vomit.

Semantics.

He was fucked. He wasn't sure what level of fucked, but he was. Every time he got drunk, he always managed to become a drooling mess when it came to you. He was much more capable of hiding it when he was sober, so obviously, he could never drink again.

...or he could just own up to how he's really felt all along.

..

Your POV

You whined quietly as you reached across the bed. Your apartment felt like it was easily subzero, and you were chasing after whatever warmth you could find. You had been warm only a second ago...

Ah, there it was. Snuggling into the side of what squishy comfort you could find; you buried your face into something that smelled vaguely of pine and alcohol.

Pine and...alcohol?

Your eyelids fluttered open, causing you to blink up at a very hungover Seungcheol who was staring at you wide eyed. You looked around slowly, quickly realizing you were in his bedroom, far from your own apartment.

"Sorry!" you gasped, beginning to untangle yourself from him.

He remained silent, watching you struggle, only to pull you back into his arms again.

"What-What are you doing?" you grumbled, pushing one hand slightly at his chest while he held firm to your wrists. "And were you watching me sleep?"

"Well," he said quietly, his voice hoarse. "When you say it like that, it makes me sound like a creep."

"Because it's a creepy thing to do!" you insisted. "Give me back my hands!"

Smirking, he tugged you closer again. Placing your arms around his torso, he moved to cuddle himself around you. "I don't think I will."

Savoring his warmth for a moment longer, you muttered into his chest. "Do you have alcohol poisoning?"

"Why?" he chuckled.

"Because I'm starting to think you've lost your mind," you hissed, leaning back to look at him. Just as before, he continued to watch you, a soft expression painting his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you last night?" he asked.

You immediately went quiet and decided literally anything aside from the boy in front of you was easier to look at. "No."

"I feel like you're lying," he sighed, defeat in his tone. "But to be honest, I can't really confirm if you are or not."

"You don't remember anything you said to me?" you mumbled, feeling incredibly small. Just like usual, he was busy pouring out his heart when the drinks were flowing, but when morning came, things were back to business.

"Only bits and pieces," he admitted.

"Right," you sighed, finally easing away from him. Sure, you had cuddled plenty of times before, but right now, you didn't want to touch him. You knew this was going to happen. It was silly to think that he could ever mean the things he said to you in the dead of night.

..

Coups POV

He was fucking this up. Badly.

"Wait, wait, wait," he rushed out, pulling you to him again. "Just...wait for a second, okay?"

"What am I waiting for?" you grumbled, your face smushed against his chest.

"I just..." he trailed off, unsure of what words could even begin to convey how you made him feel. He was terrified to actually confess. What if it ruined everything? He couldn't risk losing you. Why were things so much easier last night?

"You just?" you repeated, waiting.

"I don't know," he said quietly. His hands falling limply back to rest on his sides.

"Great," you sighed.

No. Not great. He could not abort mission. Things were said last night. He wasn't even entirely sure what had been, but he knew it was enough to make this an awkward morning. He had come this far, so why not go a little further and just do the damn thing?

"I love you," he said before he could think better of it. Bringing his fingertips to his mouth, he was surprised the words had managed to fall out.

You stared at him, blinking slowly. "In what way?"

In what way. Of course you would ask in what way. You had said "I love you" dozens of times and none of them meant the same as this.

"In a..." he continued slowly. "Love way?"

"You love me in a love way," you coughed. "Brilliant, Coups."

"Y/N," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was exhausting himself, so he could only imagine how he was making you feel. "A romantic love way. I love you in a way that isn't appropriate for someone who is only your friend to feel."

You remained silent, shock painting your face.

"I love you too."

..

Your POV

"What?" Coups croaked.

You felt like your chest was on the verge of shattering. Had you admitted that? Out loud?

"I love you so much, Seungcheol," you said quietly, once again interested in looking at anything but him. "Last night...it was the first time in a while that I dared to hope that you felt the same."

"Damnit," he muttered. "I really wish I could remember what I said if it was that good."

You chuckled before shaking your head. "You called me out."

"For?"

"Being scared," you admitted. "But to be fair, it's easy to think everything will work out when you're a bottle of soju in."

"I'm not a bottle of soju in now," he smiled, tilting your face toward his. "And I'm still telling myself everything will work out."

You sighed, searching his face. "What if we mess everything up?"

"Don't you think I've thought about that?" he chuckled. "That if I screw this up, I could lose my best friend? Y/N, if we don't try, it's going to get messed up anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I cannot pine over you for years to come," he said softly, reaching up to stroke your cheek. "Every day that I don't get to love you in the way I want kills me. I die a little inside every time I want to do something as easy as hold your hand."

"I don't want to lose you," you said quietly, already feeling the tears prickling behind your eyes. Your chest ached with the possibility of something so big changing between you.

"You will never lose me," he whispered, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Like you ever could."

You snorted. "I'm just stuck with you then?"

"Yep," he grinned. "Let me be your bad habit. Even when you quit, you eventually find your way back."

"Mmm," you hummed. "You make addiction sound so romantic."

"It's a skill, I know," he laughed. Pulling away from you, he tilted your face to fully look at him. "We're doing this?"

"I think it's already been done," you sighed.

"Thank god."

Seungcheol's lips were immediately on yours. Every year you had been friends, every argument you had ever had, every drunken night, every almost kiss. They had all lived behind this moment and were finally coming to the surface. His mouth was searing as he tilted your jaw to get a better vantage. You clung to the front of his wrinkled t-shirt, scared to let go. You had never been kissed like this. You would be ruined for anyone else, which you knew Seungcheol was 100% aiming for. There was no anyone else. There would only be him.

He bit roughly at your bottom lip, causing you to whimper. His pained chuckle crept out in between kisses, his hands finally dropping to your waist and tugging you in as closely as he could. His words danced along your lips, "How could we have waited this long?"

He tasted like a mix of peppermint and the alcohol from the night before. How could someone who was nearly blackout drunk still taste so sweet the morning after? Your hands slid up to cup around his jaw, applying a small amount of pressure to pull the two of you apart.

Coups looked back at you with eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing," you whispered. "And I needed to take that in for a second."

His face broke into a smile before he kissed the tip of your nose. "It's been a second." And his mouth descended on yours again.

[afyrian]

line one - the sound booth guy m.list

    "you are on line one, what would you like to talk it out with me about?"

  sitting in front of a microphone, you feel your gaze boring into the glass. just beyond the tinted window sits sakusa kiyoomi, your new sound engineer. he's looking down at the tapestry of instruments in front of him, prodding at different dials and knobs. pursing your lips, you listen in as a slightly distorted voice echoes through the call.

  it vibrates, a light sound of crackling in the background. "uh- hello? hey, i was just calling for some relationship advice. my, well not quite girlfriend, friend... well she recently started talking to another person," the voice waivers slightly as they get to the more difficult situation that they're going through.

  "and i think she likes them, but we've gone out a few times. i really want to full time date her, but i'm just worried she'll leave me for them. trying to sound vague, sorry," it rattles through your headphones and into your ears. 

  biting your lip, you let out a short and succinct sigh. raising the volume just slightly so the caller could hear. "well, line one, so you think she likes them? but has she flat out told you, or are you attempting to read through the lines?"

  "she never told me, but she laughs constantly. we don't talk as much because she spends a lot of time talking to them. i'm just feeling heartbroken, y/n," the volume nearly peaks as they get closer to their phone, sakusa immediately fiddling with a dial to keep it to a reasonable volume.

  your fingers start playing with a small fidget toy off to the side, the stress ball-like toy squishes beneath the pressure. the worst types of you advice you give out always come from the romance topic. whether it be wondering how to propose or how to get over a breakup, you always feel out of your depth. love isn't your topic of interest, typically. 

  "right, obviously when you start getting left out, it hurts. but your best bet is always going to be to talk it out. but with her, obviously," you laugh a little, trying to lighten the mood some for the caller and others listening, "you'll never know what's really happening until you ask. and if she does want to be with them, then that's her loss. you are worth more than situationships, caller!"

  across from the window, you can see sakusa nodding to himself. narrowing your eyes, you wonder if he's agreeing with what you're saying, or simply listening to music in one year. leaning back into his chair, he finally looks up, meeting your eyes. your gaze shifts back to your desk, hoping he didn't see you practically staring.

  "thank you.." their voice grows quiet, a second of dead air starting, your heartbeat racing as you wonder what to say next.

  "you're welcome, caller, trust me when i say that the right partner will come to you about this stuff. so exude the energy you want to be given, and if it doesn't work, just know, you will find someone it does work with," you try to keep the same energy throughout the whole conversation despite the slight exhaustion you're starting to feel.

  "you're right.. i'm going to go talk to her now and figure it out! thanks again, y/n," the line clicks, the caller leaving to figure out their life.

  "of course. now before we get on to the next caller, it's time for our regularly scheduled song of the hour. this first one is going to be 'do you want to do nothing with me?' by lawrence. this soul-pop band will really get anyone longing for domestic bliss," you tap against the desk, eyes gazing at your laptop.

  pressing a finger against the mouse, you press play, letting the song play through the station. taking off your headphones, you let out a deep sigh, peering at the empty coffee cup. it harbors a ring where the coffee was, the homemade pale mug covered in brown stains. wrapping your fingers through it, you walk into the sound booth. 

  "that was great, we typically take a few minute break to get a snack, some coffee. which i would definitely recommend because these early hours can be a bitch," you shrug, standing in the sound booth's entrance. 

  the door rests against you, foot pushing against it occasionally as it falls back towards you. sakusa nods, looking across the board, "i have a few snacks in here, plus an energy drink in the mini fridge. so i'll he fine until the next break."

  "alright, your loss, sakusa. i'll be back in a minute, if the song ends-"

  "play a similar song and hope no one notices," he finishes your sentence, not realizing that you learned that very phrase from atsumu. 

  narrowing your eyes, you nod, smiling to yourself. backing out of the booth, you walk into the main hallway, walls lined with photos of famous hosts within the company. atsumu’s headshot rests loud and proud in front of his recording studio, a light placed right above it. closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath. 

  letting a jitter coursing through your body come to a quiet feeling. resting in the back of your lungs, you walk through the hall of fame, pushing open the door to the break room. inside shows even more photos of crew members. the sound engineers all stand together behind a booth, sakusa included.

  he’s standing in the back, hands in his pockets. a soft smile, one you’d like to see in person, lines his lips. he sits in another photo, atsumu standing behind his chair, hands on sakusa’s shoulders. now, he’s smiling widely, nearly laughing in the photo. narrowing your eyes, you wonder if you’ll ever get this way with him. if you’ll befriend him in such a way. 

  “who’s that?” a familiar voice rings through your ears.

  yachi stands in the doorway a few feet away from you, a fabric measuring tape draped along her shoulders. oh right, you think to yourself, she’s doing fittings this week for promotional material. “my sound booth guy, sakusa. he came from atsumu’s show. just starting to notice that he’s pretty deep in this business,” you purse your lips, nearly forgetting about your coffee. 

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten

[floral-and-fine]

Have My Heart

Enver Gortash x Fem Durge Reader

Summary: y/n wakes in Enver’s bed and finds herself covered in blood as well as parts of the room, but she is unable to recall what happened and assumes the worst.

A/n: Thank you @bhaalbust for all the suggestions and help with this fic! Really made a difference❤️ if I write any more bg3 fanfic it’ll probably be for other characters that you can’t romance in the game. Enjoy!

Warnings: Durge related violence and content and lemon

Y/n sighed in her sleep, her body was heavy but her mind was oddly at peace, lost in a dream of being elbow-deep in the guts of a cadaver, their insides still warm and fresh. She could practically feel blood splatter on her face as she pulled them apart, fingers wrapping around soft organs and squeezing. Her lips tugged upward in a giddy smile, allowing the wave of ecstasy and satisfaction to wash over her as she admired her work. The faceless victim, with dead eyes and a slack jaw, laid beneath her, y/n could almost still hear their screams ringing in her ears.

Rolling onto her side, she hummed appreciatively recognizing her favorite scents surrounding her, blood and… Enver’s cologne. It was a dark and smoky fragrance that encapsulated power. Without giving it much thought, she buried her face further into the pillow breathing in deeply.

Her fantasies shifted from a scene of gore to one of lust and passion with her lover. Enver’s bare body was pressed against hers, the only thing he was still wearing was his gauntlet. The cold metal tickled her cheek as his fingers pushed back a few stray hairs from her face.

She could feel his tongue leaving a trail of saliva as it swept over her sternum, up the mound of her breast, and then teased her nipple, his teeth playfully nipping and tugging at it. His warm wet mouth ventured higher, arriving at the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder, without hesitation he bit her, hard, mercilessly, teeth bruising her skin before they punctured through drawing blood. Y/n gasped at the sudden pain, her back arching off the bed, followed by a low moan. Enver chuckled, nuzzling his nose against hers before he kissed her with her blood still on his lips.

She never knew what to expect from him, he seamlessly could go from tender and loving to harsh and devious and back again. And she loved it, it kept her on her toes, constantly anticipating what he’d do next, wondering whether he would bestow upon her more pleasure or more pain.

Enver sat up on his knees between her thighs, his eyes roaming over her body with a look of ownership as he placed his hand by her throat. The sharp tips of his gauntlet on his thumb and middle finger traced her collarbone.

Y/n bit her lip, peering up at him to see the smug expression on his face. It was no secret how much it pleased him, the control he had over her: his assassin, his partner, his lover.

This was an unforeseen affair, to say the least. She never expected that anything could come between her murderous desires and depraved thoughts, but here she was dreaming about him instead of murder.

Enver’s other hand adjusted her thigh, in order to position his cock between her folds, his fingers curled around her neck. As he slowly entered her, he simultaneously applied pressure to her throat to match his pace. He groaned as he bottomed out, fully sheathed within her. He was still for a moment before he began to move his hips.

Y/n’s hand gripped his wrist as he fucked her faster and choked her harder. Through blurry vision, she gazed at the man she adored. The one who had accepted her in a way that she never believed was impossible. He appreciated her efforts and self-control, validated her work, and trusted her.

Gods, she loves him.

Y/n moaned shamelessly, her eyes were still shut, but her body was now very much awake, she reached a hand out in search of her lover, only to find his side of the bed empty.

It was then as if a switch had suddenly been flipped, snapping y/n out of her dreams. She immediately sat up, eyes wide as it dawned on her that this place, his home, shouldn’t reek of blood and death. Her eyes darted around the room, streaks of red painted the walls and bed sheets. Bloody footprints stained the carpet, and her hands and hair were covered in dried blood.

Had she finally done it? Her worst nightmare fulfilled?

Everything went quiet as she sat alone with her racing thoughts. Y/n had been so careful, she was killing in droves, slaughtering men, women, and children to satiate her urge and protect Enver from herself. But was it still not enough?

She felt sick to her stomach.

It was unfortunate how being chosen left her with no choice, or at least it felt that way. Compelled almost every moment to do her father’s bidding, plagued by thoughts that all led to violence.

It was only a matter of time before this alliance would fail, that one would betray the other, but still y/n had hoped that they would’ve been able to accomplish their plans, and even more so she had hoped that this partnership would’ve lasted longer, much longer.

…

Enver rubbed his tired eyes and stared at the presumably romantic gesture that y/n had left for him at the bottom of the staircase in the center of the foyer. It was a graphic arrangement of bloody limbs and intestines in the shape of a heart. He tightened the belt of his silk robe as he circled around his surprise gift while admiring his lover’s twisted handy work.

At the tip of the heart were clasped hands, obviously belonging to different victims, that had been roughly amputated according to the jagged edges. He could only assume that that was part of her loving message, perhaps something along the lines of staying together even when being torn apart, but that was all speculation, he wasn’t what one would call well-versed in her uniquely violent language.

Gifts and surprises like this weren’t an entirely new occurrence, he had previously awoken to find similar presents such as human hearts tied together with ribbons sitting on his nightstand or strange yet sweet messages scrawled in blood on his bedroom window. But this was by far the most extravagant declaration of affection to date.

He lifted his brow, noticing the trail composed of severed ears, fingers, and toes. He figured rose petals would’ve been far too cliché for his little killer.

Now where did they lead to, exactly?

Enver followed the path, careful not to step on any unpleasant bits of flesh with his bare feet. Perhaps he should make a habit of putting slippers on before leaving his room if this becomes a regular thing.

Arriving at his study, he came face to face with 3 heads impaled on spikes, proudly mounted over the fireplace. It only took Enver a moment to recognize the lifeless faces, they were his competitors, former black-market weapon dealers like himself.

A small part of him was a bit envious that they had met their end without him present, that he had no say in how to prolong their torture, and that they didn’t die knowing that he was the reason behind it. Of course, this was nothing he couldn’t get over, he knew that y/n made the bastards suffer before ending them, but still if it had been anyone other than his bhaalspawn interfering with his meticulous plans he’d probably have them killed or severely punished already.

“Well gentlemen, I’m sure the three of you were just as surprised as myself by this outcome,” Enver announced to the heads decorating the mantle. “But we all knew one way or another that I was always going to come out on top.”

He smirked to himself, filled with a sense of gratification, aware that his lover did this for him. It was a different sort of pleasure compared to when he’d send y/n to kill, she did this unprompted and it was that much more meaningful.

Perhaps later she’d give him all the gory details. Y/n was always eager to relive her kills with him. Typically she’d return from an assassination and immediately start filling him in while stripping out of her clothes right before straddling his lap. This was definitely a beneficial aspect of their relationship, that she got off on murder while he got off on power and control.

“You’re alright,” y/n murmured from the doorway, seeing Enver standing there in his black silk robe, his back turned to her as he stared at the heads on display, it was a beautiful sight, better than all the gore and horror she saw on the way here, which in actuality brought her no joy and only added to her panic.

“Hm, oh yes, I’m fine,” he started, eyes still focused on the severed heads. “can’t say the same for these fellows… seems they met a grisly fate at your hand. Impressive work as always.”

She stifled a sob that immediately drew Enver’s attention. A combination of emotions that she had been fighting had worked their way to the surface, relief, fear, guilt, but mostly just she was just grateful, grateful that he was unharmed.

“I thought- I thought I killed you,” y/n confessed.

He lifted a brow, unfamiliar with the sight of seeing her so shaken. The typical cold analytical look in his eyes was gone and replaced with concern. “Probably just a bad dream,” he said in an attempt to be sympathetic.

Y/n shook your head, “I don’t remember these killings.” She gestured to the unfamiliar faces behind him. “I must have killed them while blacked out, but I shouldn’t have, I’ve been slaughtering and maiming all over the city.”

She took a deep breath. “I must have killed them because I can’t kill you, I won’t kill you, despite the urge compelling me to,” she explained.

His gaze fell upon her, studying her in such a vulnerable yet wild state, naked, eyes bloodshot, hair knotted, dried blood staining her arms and legs, but she was still beautiful in a dangerous sort of way.

“Have you considered that these unconscious killings aren’t a tribute to your god but rather for me?” He asked. “Or do you typically create heart-shaped atrocities for Bhaal?”

It was practically inconceivable that such a perfect and powerful specimen would love him to such a degree that she’d choose him over her god and rebel against her very nature for him. All this blood and gore was a testament to how much she cared. Y/n was truly his.

“For weeks now you’ve been leaving me unconventional gifts and love notes,” Enver explained further. “Do you remember any of them?”

“No,” she whispered.

He smirked moving closer to her, “You subconsciously killed 3 of my biggest competitors and brought me their heads, it’s quite thoughtful in a way, a wonderful present.”

Enver tilted y/n’s head up, his lips lightly kissing along her jaw. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.

She closed your eyes as he cupped her cheek, the familiar touch of his fingers stroking her skin had a calming effect. Y/n leaned into his hand, taking in the warmth of it.

“Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get someone to take care of that. But first,” he said. “Let’s get a bath ready.”

There was comfort in knowing he’d take care of everything including herself. Life as a Bhaalspawn was lonely. Any sort of friendship or family ended in death or abandonment. The only people with whom she interacted were Bhaal’s followers and her butler, Scerleritas Fel. She was honestly scared that she was going to be alone again.

It was so nice having someone who wanted more from her than murder, who saw that she was capable of more, capable of being a partner and a contributor.

She opened her eyes and placed her hand over his, giving her love a rare genuine smile, it was almost sweet if she wasn’t also looking like a wild animal.

Y/n slipped past him and moved towards the fireplace, looking up at the mantle with renewed vigor, her lip twitching upward as she watched a glob of congealed blood drip from the head in the center. Gortash moved behind her, tenderly sweeping away her hair from her neck before placing his lips on her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin.

“Appreciating your own work?” He asked, knowing exactly what sort of effect it had on her. With a firm hold on her hips, he pulled her towards him, her ass now pressed flush against him, with his silk robe being the only barrier between them.

Flashes of the faces, contorted in absolute agony, appeared in her mind. She could practically hear their screams all over again, they were deliciously ear piercing.

Y/n reached up, her hand clutching the back of Enver’s hair as she twisted her neck to meet him in a sloppy kiss. Her nails scraped against his scalp and he smiled in response, loving how desperate she was for contact, to taste him, to feel his skin.

Her free hand yanked on the belt of the robe to loosen the tie. Quickly, he shrugged his robe the rest of the way off, letting it pool at his feet. His hands immediately returned to her hips, grip tighter than before as he rubbed his hardening cock against the smooth curve of her ass.

She started to breathe harder as his fingers traveled closer to her pussy, which was already slick. She whined, rubbing her thighs together as she anticipated his touch.

“Always so ready,” he purred, his ring and middle fingers finally delving between her lower lips, stroking over her clit lightly before increasing the pressure.

Y/n rutted against his hand as he teased her, fingers expertly circling around her little bud. Enver moved his fingers lower, pushing his middle inside. She was obscenely wet, her cunt squelching as his finger moved in and out.

“More,” she gasped, as he added another digit, stretching her tight hole wider. He was an expert at finger fucking her, moving and curling his fingers just that herlegs turned to jelly. She had to lean against him for support to keep herself from falling to the ground. She cried indignantly as he suddenly removed his hand from her pussy.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Enver commanded, giving her a little shove. “I want you right here.”

Y/n didn’t waste a second, following his orders and lowering herself onto the floor. From this angle, she could better see the grotesque innards of the neck muscles and bones. She suddenly recalled that she had not been gentle when separating these heads from their bodies, she had stabbed over and over, ripping and tearing as she further mutilated the corpses. It had been such a rush.

Teasingly, y/n wiggled her ass in the air, more than ready for Enver to fuck her senseless.

“So needy,” he murmured, taking his time as he sank onto his knees behind her. He placed his hand at the base of her spine and caressed her back without hurry, prolonging the moment, before abruptly grabbing a handful of her hair and jerking her head back. She whimpered, at the slight sting.

The tip of his erection was now so close to her entrance, making her even more aware of how empty she felt. “Ready?” He asked.

“Yes,” y/n hissed as he tugged her hair harder.

Closing his eyes as he eased his cock into her warm velvety cunt. “Mmm,” Enver moaned, “So good.”

His pace started out slow and leisurely, once again taking pleasure in being in control while his poor lover was on the verge of being delirious, longing only for release. Despite him fucking her at such a painstaking rate, she was already so close to coming. Her hands balled up into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

“Faster, please,” she begged.

Instead, Enver stilled, his cock only half in. He couldn’t help but smile as she pathetically whined and tried to rock her hips back to fuck herself. But the hand that had been resting on her hip stopped her, squeezing it firmly.

“Say it again,” he instructed, not at all hiding his smug tone.

“Please,” she mewled. “Fuck me faster.”

The sound of her crying for him was music to his ears. Finally, Enver complied, pulling on her hair as he thrust back in, he bucked his hips harder and faster. Her juices were dripping from pussy down her thighs and onto the floor.

She didn’t last much longer, her walls clenched as came. She collapsed onto her chest, cheek pressed against the floor, her body limp and heavy after her orgasm.

“Oh, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling her cunt practically milking his cock as it spasmed around him.

Enver continued to fuck her, using her more roughly as he chased his own release. Her body slid back and forth against the floor, her sweaty skin creating some friction as he pounded away. His teeth began to grit down as his orgasm approached.

Quickly, he pulled out, his load landing on her back and sullying her even further, dried blood and now semen decorated her body.

“I think you’re in desperate need of that bath now, my dear,” he chuckled.

Y/n slowly sat back up, sitting on her knees, she could feel his cum sliding down her back. She turned towards him and her eyes narrowed, “I should cut you open for teasing me like that.”

Enver laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, you loved it, every single moment of it.” He leaned towards her and brushed his lips against hers in a simple kiss.

After getting cleaned up, they returned to bed. Y/n rested her head on Enver’s shoulder, fingertips grazing over his skin and playing with his chest hair. The sound of his voice was steady and warm as he talked about the next steps of the plan. She felt grounded with his arm holding her by her waist and her leg draped over his.

Soon, she knew that she’d have to go out and find a victim to satiate her urge, but for right now she wanted nothing else than to be here.

[puppiekit]

One thing about the warriors Mapleshade hate train era of the fandom that still pisses me off actually is how people swore up and down that Mapleshade MUST be an unreliable narrator and so therefore nothing she expirienced or thought could be in any way accurate.

When in reality it was just the fandom making up bullshit headcanons out of thin air and portraying it as canon just so they can excuse Thunderclans blatant hatred/xenophobia, assault of a mother, and banishment of literal babies. Nobody wants to admit the fact that Mapleshade was severely screwed over and had every right to be pissed the hell off! (and don't get me wrong murder is inexcusable but like.... you guys baby so many other murderers in this series please stop playing)

Because outright saying "Mapleshade lying is worthy of assault and/or death" will reasonably earn you a WTF response, so people exaggerate her aggressors victimhood by making up bullshit about Mapleshade being a "baby trapper" or an "overtly possessive toxic girlfriend", and/or crafting some make-believe soppy sad backstory for Frecklewish. All to make Maples decision to lie seem worse than it in actuality was, or actively malicious in nature, and deserving of the recieved "punishment" (assault and death of her children).

Like... I cannot state enough how much it pisses me off when people discredit *the literal POV expiriences of the book protagonist* just to make up random crap about her clanmates and craft some elaborate tale where Maple is the worst and has sucked all along. When we know literally nothing about them, and especially Frecklewish, except that she made a stupid assumption, is willing to beat a mother in front of their kids, and quiet frankly didn't actually give a shit about those kids the moment she realized they weren't blood related. LOL

Like completley out of nowhere people decided Mapleshade lying was the worst crime ever commited in the history of the series... UNLESS you're literally any other character in the series to do it like Bluestar Leafpool Squirrelflight Yellowfang etc etc etc.... When they get flack for lying it's unfair and they were doing what they thought was right! But also it's completely unacceptable for Mapleshade to lie about her children's half-clan heritage in an environment where her peers are violently hateful and xenophobic. Because it hurt their feelings ... LOL

And don't even get me started on the fact that, quiet frankly, Frecklewish and Oakstar were being unreasonable from the very beginning by being hateful and blaming Riverclan for their loved ones death. They literally sent their son/brother INTO BATTLE and are now mad that he DIED? What the hell do they think happens when you send people out to beat eachother up (often to the death)??

Battle and death is such a normal and accepted part of clan culture it genuinely baffles me people dont realize that, as understandable as their grief, their anger/hatred is pretty crazy, even if Appledusk *had* killed Birchface. They were wrong to assume Birchface was the father and they were wrong to project their hatred on Mapleshade and her kits. Not a single action made by them was reasonable or excusable. You don't put that kind of pressure on a single mother who *explicitly avoided stating her kits father* and get all mad when it isn't who you assumed it to be. Like it's next level stupidity