#i couldn’t think of anything at first when i first saw your ask but like. just now when i saw it again i immediately thought of peach beach

[wattpadbxtch]

I’ll give u a kiss if u write freak Azzi

i gotchu queen. it's one of my favs to write ngl. azzi's literally perfect.😜

The Fucking Menace

pairing: freak!azzi x paige

warning: smut

Paige knew Azzi was different from the jump.

Like, yeah—she had been with girls before. Plenty of them. She had been good at it too. She knew how to take her time, knew what she was doing, knew exactly how to get a girl trembling underneath her.

But Azzi Fudd?

Azzi was a fucking menace.

Paige had figured it out piece by piece, but the first real clue came in the form of a text.

She had been at practice, minding her own damn business, stretching before drills, when her phone vibrated in her shorts. A quick glance at the screen showed Azzi with a little devil emoji next to her name.

Paige wasn’t dumb. She knew better than to open Azzi’s messages when she was in public. But her curiosity got the best of her. So she unlocked her phone, clicked the notification—

And nearly choked on her own breath.

It was a picture. A very NSFW picture. Azzi in front of her mirror, just a tiny pair of lace panties on, one hand between her thighs, the other holding her phone.

And the caption?

“Thinking about how good you stretch me out. Hurry up and come home.”

Paige’s soul left her body.

She locked her phone so fast she almost fumbled it, eyes darting around the gym, praying to God nobody saw her reaction. But damn, she was already flushed. Already ready to call practice early and haul ass back to her apartment.

And the worst part?

Azzi knew what she was doing.

She loved this shit. Loved getting Paige all worked up when she couldn’t do anything about it. Loved knowing Paige was sitting there, thighs clenched, trying to focus on basketball when all she could think about was Azzi’s bare skin, the little arch of her back, the fucking smirk she had on her face in that damn picture.

And when Paige finally got home that night?

Azzi was waiting for her—stretched out on Paige’s bed like a damn meal, one of Paige’s hoodies barely covering her, eyes dark with amusement.

Paige had dropped her bag on the floor, standing in the doorway, just looking at her.

“You are so unserious.”

Azzi had just grinned. “You liked it, though.”

Paige had swallowed hard. “Obviously.”

Azzi had sat up slow, biting her lip. “Then why are you still standing there?”

And that was how Paige ended up on her knees between Azzi’s thighs within five minutes of walking through the door.

But that was just one example.

Because Azzi wasn’t just a freak over text—she was unhinged in bed, too.

She had no shame. None.

She liked to talk Paige through it, liked to tell her exactly how good she felt, how much she loved it.

“Fuck, baby, this dick is so deep— look at you, stroking me like you wanna put a baby in me—shit, you know this pussy is all yours, right?*”

Paige could barely function when Azzi started talking like that.

And it wasn’t just dirty talk. Azzi was always down to try shit. If Paige so much as hinted at something new, Azzi would tilt her head all innocent-like and go, “Oh? You wanna try that? Okay, bet.”

And then she would show out.

Paige had never met a girl who could take strap like Azzi. It made no damn sense. She could go round after round, still talking her shit, still asking for more. Paige had tested her limits so many times and Azzi had never once tapped out first.

And the craziest thing?

Azzi had favorites.

Like, she would be riding Paige’s strap, hands planted on her chest, taking it like she was born for it, and she’d be talking—talking, like she wasn’t losing her mind.

“Mmm, fuck—this my favorite way to fuck you, baby— you like watching me take it? Like watching my pussy stretch around you? Shit— you love it when I bounce on it, don’t you?*”

And Paige? Paige was clenching the sheets, jaw slack, barely holding on for dear life.

Every time she thought she had the upper hand, Azzi flipped the script.

Paige was topping, sure. She was in control, technically. But somehow, Azzi always had her exactly where she wanted her.

Like that time Paige had her pinned down, strapping her slow and deep, thinking she was in charge—

Only for Azzi to wrap her arms around her, pull her close, and whisper, “C’mon, baby, you know I like it nasty. Go harder.”

Paige had nearly blacked out on the spot.

She did go harder. She did whatever Azzi told her to do, every single time.

Because Azzi Fudd was a different breed.

And Paige?

Paige was never not gonna give her exactly what she wanted.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘

Pairing: Caitvi x Reader

Summary: Making your girlfriends crochet gifts for Valentine's Day <3

The strongest scent in the room derived from the book that Vi was reading. It smelt of vetiver, a smoky, earthy aroma that blessed your nose. “The Adventures of Harden,” she’d been reading it for a while—that huge chunky novel must’ve been filled with a butt ton of action.

Caitlyn was busy in a council meeting, she’d gone back to announce her departure despite her inner confliction. She needed a break from everything, to not have so much weight on her shoulders for once in her life. Vi was the one to have done most of the convincing, she’s good at it—not very surprising.

“What’s happening as of now?” You asked Vi as you looked at the block on text from behind her. She leaned her head back to look up at you, “Huh?”

You gestured to the book, “In here, what’s happening?” Suddenly, all the deep knowledge she’s memorized in this book was gone with a poof. She scratched the mop of pink hair atop of her head, “I—uh, don’t remember, sorry,” You feigned a disappointmented sigh, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Did you really wanna know?” Her tone was near concerned, as if afraid that you actually were disappointed. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “I’m just jossin’.” She visibly looked relieved, exhaling a breath. “What, scared I was sad to not hear your nerdiness?” The teasing tone in your voice made her quietly groan but not retort.

A part of her was a bit suspicious, just in general, she knew Valentine’s Day was coming up—and that you had to be planning something. But what? It could be anything, you had many talents. She internally scolded herself as to not think about it too much, though she couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up inside.

—★—

The floor creaked under weight of your feet as you walked through the hallway, headed towards your crochet room.

With how huge the Kiramman mansion was, many rooms went unused, simply labeled as guest or storage, this being one of them. When Caitlyn noticed that crochet was one of your prominent hobbies, she offered for you to use any room you’d like.

You specifically chose this one for it’s beauty.

Sunlight shined through the one large window on the left side of the room, lighting up the darkest parts of the room. The view outside of that very window, ships coming from different areas to land at their docks; the tall buildings constructed by genius minds.

Piltover’s beauty never failed to amaze you.

Your crochet equipment was neatly settled on the wooden oak table. As you sat on the black rolling chair, the kitten-like figures were what you decided to work on first. You could only think about your girlfriends—how you saw them, but in a more adorable form.

You looped the black yarn with the hooked needle, each small thread tightening together like bonded atoms. Throughout the past hour, you slowly worked your way up. Adding on a small strawberry hat to it, with specks of white as seeds and it’s green leaf top.

On to the next, not muchh different, other than colors. The white yarn was a stark contrast from the black—and instead of a strawberry hat, a blueberry one. The star-shaped pattern on the top to represent the calyx.

…

You carefully cut the loose string that hung next to the eye. Perfection. Crafted with your bare hands—to say you were only proud was an understatement.

—★—

You couldn’t hold the absolute joy you felt when you entered the living room with the box. Giving anything to the ones you loved was the best gift that you could ever receive; you were excited for their reactions too. You waited up to this moment to show something special—with meaning, non-verbally announcing your love for them. It’s not that you couldn’t say ‘I love you’ out loud (well, maybe), but you didn’t wanna just say it without showing it as well.

They’ve never received crocheted gifts before, it’s not that common of a hobby. That was even more of a reason for you to make it.

—★—

“What is this I see?” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at the mysterious brown box. Vi peeked from beside her—similar to a cat; curious, eyes trained onto the box like it’d disappear in seconds. She made her way closer before you lightly pushed her back, “You will see what it is, be patient.” You shook your head in amusement at her eagerness.

The moment you pulled them out, Caitlyn’s eyes widened, along with Vi’s jaw nearly dropping to the floor.

Vi took the figure as if it were porcelain, as if her hands were so rough that it’d break it so easily. “No way,” she whispered, inspecting every detail.

Tears started to well up in her eyes as she stared down at the plush. “It’s…it’s—thank you,” her laugh was watery as she hugged you, brawny arms squeezing you tight.

Valentines Day was barely celebrated in Zaun, but she remembered when Powder would make her tiny gadgets or trinkets. To her, it was more than she could act for, even if those things were now destroyed, still laid in a pile of dust and debris.

Caitlyn was speechless, staring at hers in shock; the little baby blue streaks mixed into the white yarn, the navy blue hat matching her own hair.

This was…sweet.

Sweet as honey; straight from the source. The most wonderful project she’d ever seen—better than any architecture or design that’s been brought to her.

She couldn’t help but join in on the hug as well, her face burying itself deep into your neck. Where she felt safe.

They’d surely cherish this forever.

—★—

Bonus moment:

She closed her eyes and hugged the crocheted kitten, “I’m gonna name him Barry.” She announced to the both of you, feeling content. Caitlyn looked up from her own kitten, “As in ‘berry?’ Wow, creative.” She nodded, amused.

…

That night, as the moon was up and the stars were out—your loves were fast asleep. Caitlyn was curled in on herself, legs near her mid-section, arms rested underneath her head. Vi, however, had her arms wrapped around Caitlyn’s waist, cheek pressed against the soft of her back. Barry was squished in between.

A/N: The idea of crocheting is so cute to me but I don’t know how to😔

[luvst4rc0r3]

"Why did you do that" PT.2

Jinx x f!reader

Warnings:None?

WC:1848

PT.1

Jinx didn’t even think.

She just moved.

The Firelight hideout smelled like oil and smoke, old books and freshly cleaned wounds. It was a place Jinx had never thought she’d set foot in without a gun in hand.

But none of that mattered when she saw you.

You were sitting on a bed, wrapped in blankets too big for your frame, looking exhausted.

Isha was beside you, dressed in bandages, a fresh scar running down the side of her face—but her eyes lit up the second she saw Jinx.

Jinx didn’t breathe.

She couldn’t.

She wanted to move, wanted to run straight to you, to Isha—to make sure this wasn’t some cruel joke—but all she could see was the way your arms looked wrong.

Or rather, how one of them didn’t look like yours anymore.

You raised your right hand—no, not your hand, the metal that had replaced it. Isha, beside you, mimicked the movement with her left arm, sleeve empty below the elbow.

Jinx felt like she was going to be sick.

But you smiled.

“Jinx.” Your voice cracked, but it was real, and gods, it was the best sound in the world.

She couldn’t stop herself anymore.

Jinx ran.

She crashed into you like a grenade, arms tight, tighter, afraid that if she let go, you’d disappear again. She felt the way your hand gripped onto her shirt, felt the way Isha pressed herself into both of you, her face buried in Jinx’s shoulder.

Jinx sobbed.

Ugly, shaking, wrecked sobs.

“You fucking died,” she gasped, pressing her forehead against yours, “I thought you were dead—fuck, I—”

“I know,” you whispered, voice trembling as you held her closer. “I know.”

Isha didn’t sign anything, just curled herself further into Jinx’s side. But she didn’t need to.

Jinx felt it.

Felt both of you, warm, breathing, alive.

Her fingers curled into your clothes, into Isha’s hair, into anything she could reach, because she couldn’t let go. Not again.

Ekko, somewhere behind her, stepped away, giving you all space. Jinx didn’t look at him. She didn’t look at anything but you and Isha.

She hadn’t needed saving before.

But gods, was she glad Ekko had stopped her.

She buried herself into you, into Isha, into the warmth of the people she thought she’d lost.

And for the first time since that night, Jinx finally felt something again.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Jinx didn’t let go of you for the rest of the night.

She sat on the cot beside you, arms locked around your waist, like she was afraid you’d disappear if she blinked too long. Isha was curled up at your other side, dozing off but still holding onto both of you.

You didn’t blame her.

None of you had been apart like that before.

Jinx traced her fingers over your new prosthetic, her touch featherlight. It wasn’t like her bombs or her guns—it wasn’t built to destroy. It was careful.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head. “Not really. Just feels… weird. Like something’s there when it’s not.”

She hummed, rubbing circles into your palm. “Still kicks ass, though. Look at you, all metal and scary.”

You snorted. “You like it?”

“I liked your old hand better,” she admitted, softer this time, “but this one’s cool too.”

She lifted it, pressing a kiss to your fingers—just like she always used to.

You exhaled shakily.

“Jinx,” you whispered, leaning into her. “I’m sorry.”

Jinx tensed, pulling back to look at you.

“For what?”

“For—” You swallowed. “For almost dying. For scaring you. For everything.”

Her face twisted, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“That’s my line, dumbass.”

You huffed a laugh, and she took your hand—both of them, flesh and metal—and held them tight.

“You didn’t do shit wrong,” she murmured. “You fought. You lived. That’s all I need.”

Your throat ached. “I thought we lost you.”

Jinx’s eyes darkened.

“I thought I lost you first.”

Neither of you said anything else after that, just clung to each other in the dim light of the hideout, breathing in the reality of being here, of being alive, of still having each other.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The Firelight hideout wasn’t the most comfortable place, but lying in bed with Jinx made it feel like home.

You were tucked against her, head resting on her shoulder, while her fingers traced absentminded patterns on your arm—the flesh one. She hadn’t stopped touching you since the night she found out you were alive.

Isha was curled up on the other side of the bed, deep asleep, her breathing slow and steady.

The world outside was on the brink of chaos. War loomed over all of you, but in this moment, it was just you, Jinx, and the quiet hum of each other’s heartbeats.

Jinx shifted slightly, and you felt her reach into her pocket. Before you could ask what she was doing, she held something up in front of you.

A ring.

It was messy—scrap metal twisted together, gears and wires interwoven, the metal slightly uneven—but it was her. Every part of it screamed Jinx.

“Marry me,” she mumbled, barely above a whisper.

You blinked.

Your brain short-circuited.

“What?”

She looked nervous, biting the inside of her cheek, but her grip on you didn’t loosen.

“I mean—y’know—if you want to,” she muttered, avoiding your eyes. “After all this shit’s over. If we make it. If—”

You cupped her face, cutting her off.

“Jinx.”

she kept on rambling.

“Jinx.” You said a bit louder this time.

and she kept on yapping.

“JINX”

Now that caught her attention.

She swallowed.

You could see it in her eyes—the fear, the hope, the love that had always burned so brightly in her, flickering unsteady in the dark.

You kissed her.

Soft. Slow. Lingering.

When you pulled back, you smiled.

“Of course I will, dummy.”

Jinx blinked.

Then she grinned, wide and breathless, like she couldn’t believe it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead against yours. “Fuck.”

You laughed.

And when she pulled you even closer, burying herself in you, you let her—because tomorrow was uncertain, but this?

This was real.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It took exactly five hours for you to piss Jinx off again.

You had just finished getting new adjustments to your prosthetic when you stormed up to Ekko, voice firm. “I want in.”

Ekko, who was fully aware of your stubbornness, barely batted an eye. “I figured.”

Jinx, however, did not take it so well.

“The fuck you do,” she snapped, stepping between you and Ekko. “You’re not fighting.”

“Yes, I am,” you shot back, folding your arms. “I can still fight, Jinx.”

“You lost a fucking hand, baby.”

“And I got a new one.”

“That’s not the point!”

The two of you stood inches apart, both breathing hard, staring each other down.

Jinx’s hands were shaking.

You exhaled, forcing yourself to soften. “Jinx…”

She shook her head violently.

“No. No way. I just fucking got you back, I’m not—” Her voice cracked, eyes glassy. “I’m not losing you again.”

Your chest clenched.

You stepped forward, pressing your forehead against hers. Jinx inhaled sharply, hands gripping your shirt.

“I’m not leaving you,” you murmured. “I swear.”

Jinx gritted her teeth.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Smoke choked the air, metal screeched against metal, and the scent of burning rubble filled your lungs as you ran through the wreckage. Your body ached, wounds screaming with every step, but none of it mattered.

You had to find her.

Then you saw her.

You saw her dangling over the edge, Vi gripping her wrist with everything she had. But Jinx—Jinx wasn’t fighting to stay.

She was letting go.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“JINX!”

Your voice cut through the battlefield like a gunshot.

Jinx’s head snapped toward you, wild eyes locking onto yours.

For a split second, something flickered in her face—relief, disbelief, love—but then her fingers twitched, loosening.

You ran.

You didn’t think—didn’t hesitate—you just ran, leaping over metal until you were right there, right at the edge.

And then, before either of them could stop you, you grabbed Warwick and shoved yourself forward.

Jinx’s scream ripped through the air.

“NO!”

But before you fell, before the void swallowed you whole, you locked eyes with her one last time.

And you smiled.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “And I will always love you. Take care of Isha.”

Then you let go.

Jinx’s breath hitched. “No, no, no—

Jinx didn’t think.

She didn’t breathe.

She didn’t hesitate.

she hit the gem out of the glove and jumped

She really jumped.

Vi screamed for her, reaching, but she was too slow—too late.

Jinx dove after you, the wind roaring in her ears, drowning out everything except the one thing that mattered.

You.

Her arms wrapped around you mid-fall, yanking you against her chest as the world blurred around you.

You barely had time to react before she twisted the monkey bomb only to let out glitter before diving into an air vent.

Metal screeched.

Jinx grunted as the impact nearly knocked her out, but she didn’t let go of you—not for a single second.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then—

You sat up quickly, ignoring the stabbing pain in your ribs. “Are you insane?!”

Jinx blinked, dazed. “Uh. Kinda?”

You grabbed her face, forcing her to look at you. “You jumped.”

Jinx frowned. “And? What, you thought I was just gonna let you die?”

Your heart clenched.

“Jinx…” Your voice cracked. “You could have—”

“Lost you?” she whispered, voice raw. “Not happening, baby. Not ever.”

Your grip trembled. “I told you to take care of Isha—”

“And I will. With you.”

Your breath hitched.

Jinx swallowed hard, pressing her forehead against yours. “I’d rather burn the whole damn world down than live without you.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but there was no time for them.

You inhaled shakily, pulling away. “We need to go. They will still try and find you—”

Jinx nodded, already grabbing your hand, pulling you toward a rusted-out air vent hidden behind a collapsed wall. “Way ahead of you.”

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Navigating the old tunnels was brutal. Your bodies were battered, your limbs screamed with every movement, but neither of you stopped—not until you reached the one place Jinx knew Isha would be.

She was waiting.

The second you slipped into the hideout, Isha spun, her wide eyes filling with tears the moment she saw you both.

Jinx barely had time to say anything before Isha threw herself at you, shaking, gripping onto you like you might disappear.

You held her tightly, running your fingers through her hair, whispering, “We’re here, we’re okay, I promise.”

Jinx pressed against both of you, hands wrapped around Isha’s back, her face buried in your shoulder.

For the first time since the war started, you felt safe.

No more fighting.

No more running.

Just the three of you.

And this time, you weren’t letting go.

YALL HAPPY ENDING!!!

I want sleep

[csuzlipofa]

Secret Admirer

Daniela x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day wasn’t your favorite day, but will it change when you get a note in your locker from a certain someone?

fluff, high school AU, mutual pining, friends to lovers, soft romance

Warnings: -

The hallways of your school were decorated in pink and red, heart-shaped balloons tied to lockers, and handmade Valentine’s cards pinned to bulletin boards. Students rushed past you, exchanging chocolates and gifts, giggling as they confessed to their crushes.

Valentine’s Day was always a big deal at your school. But for you? It was just another day. You weren’t expecting anything special—especially not from the one person you secretly liked: Daniela.

Daniela was effortlessly cool, with her leather jacket slung over her shoulders and that signature smirk playing on her lips. She was one of the most popular girls at school, but she never let it get to her head. Despite her sharp, confident aura, there was something about her that felt… warm. Maybe it was the way she always ruffled Yoonchae’s hair or how she teased Manon but always made sure to compliment her right after. Or maybe it was the way she smiled at you when she caught you staring a little too long in class.

You sighed, adjusting your books as you made your way to your locker. The halls were buzzing with excitement, but you ignored it. Valentine’s Day wasn’t for you—

Until you saw it.

A small, heart-shaped box of chocolates sitting inside your locker. Attached to it was a simple note:

“Meet me behind the gym after class. Don’t make me wait. –Your Secret Admirer”

Your heart skipped a beat. A secret admirer? You turned the note over, but there was nothing else. Who could have left this?

“Someone looks flustered,” a voice teased.

You spun around to see Sophia, Megan, and Manon standing nearby, smirking knowingly. Lara and Yoonchae joined them a second later, both carrying their own Valentine’s gifts.

“I—It’s nothing,” you stammered, stuffing the note into your pocket.

“Oh, come on,” Manon nudged you. “Someone clearly has a crush on you. Spill!”

Before you could protest, Lara leaned over to glance at the chocolates. “That’s a fancy brand,” she mused. “Whoever got these for you has taste.”

Yoonchae grinned. “Ooooh, maybe it’s someone we know?”

Megan crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You should go. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Sophia smirked. “Or are you scared?”

You glared at her, then exhaled. Fine. If your friends were this curious, there was no way you were backing out.

The final bell rang, and you found yourself walking toward the gym, heart pounding. The late afternoon sun cast golden light across the empty school grounds, and as you turned the corner, you saw someone leaning against the wall, hands in their pockets.

Daniela.

Your breath caught. She looked effortlessly cool as always, but when she saw you, something in her expression softened.

“You actually came,” she said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You blinked. “You…?”

She shrugged, stepping closer. “Yeah. Took me a while to work up the courage, but…” She pulled a single red rose from behind her back, twirling it between her fingers. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You stared at her, heat rising to your cheeks. Daniela? Your secret admirer?

“I—why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, taking the rose hesitantly.

She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Because I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.” She exhaled, finally meeting your gaze. “But I like you. A lot. And I was kinda hoping you’d like me too.”

Your heart raced. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Daniela—cool, confident Daniela—was confessing to you.

A small smile played on your lips as you held the rose close. “Well… I do.”

For the first time, Daniela looked relieved. “Good,” she said, grinning. “Because I was really hoping I wouldn’t embarrass myself.”

You laughed softly. “I think you did okay.”

She smirked. “Only okay?”

Before you could answer, you heard giggling from behind a nearby pillar.

“See? I told you it was her!” Manon whispered excitedly.

“Shhh, they’ll hear us,” Yoonchae hushed.

Daniela rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression. “You guys are the worst.”

Lara peeked out. “We just wanted to see if you’d actually do it.”

Megan gave you a thumbs-up. “Nice choice.”

Sophia simply smirked. “About time.”

You groaned, but Daniela just laughed, shaking her head. “Come on,” she said, taking your hand in hers. “Let’s get out of here before they start making bets on our first date.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your fingers intertwined with hers. Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

LET IT BLEED AWAY BETWEEN US

(adult) lottie matthews x fem!reader.

she shows up at your door… (inspired by season three episode 2 babyyyyyy I wrote this at 4 fucking in the morning earlier bc I couldn’t sleep enjoy please read to compensate my suffering)

“So,” you start, unsure of how to begin. “How was it?”

Lottie blinks. “The mental institution?”

You were better off not asking.

“It was fine,” she answers in a dull tone. She sits across from where you stand as she occupies your armchair — in your living room, which she has infiltrated and made herself at home in. “It’s been worse.”

She’s told you before, stories of all she has endured. You sit very straight, unsure exactly of how to proceed — it hasn’t been long since you last saw her, but there is a gap between the two of you already, and even in such a short amount of time the two of you have changed. She no longer has her wellness center to lead, you no longer follow her in it. You have been thrusted back into the real world — real dangers accompany it.

“You have a nice place here,” Lottie gestures around your living room. “I’m surprised you could get a hold of it so quickly.”

Your old house you had lived in before moving into the wellness center. You’ve had it on the market for a while, but no one has put in an offer. You don’t tell her that, though — part of you wants her to bear the guilt, think you found some new place in a pinch.

“I had to find somewhere to go,” you say defensively. “While you were detained.”

Her expression sours, she doesn’t like your wording. Neither do you. You don’t enjoy being angry with her, especially after being apart. All you want to do is rush to her, pull her into your arms and let it all bleed away between you, but it was Lottie herself who always showed those who followed her to feel their anger.

Lottie sinks further into her seat, sensing your discontent, crosses one leg over the other and pretends she’s blind to the world. “I missed you.”

You hum in response. Silence lies heavily between you.

“Are you upset with me?”

You don’t respond.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

She sighs. “Then what?”

“You hunted Shauna through the woods. You got shot.”

Lottie stands and makes her way to you. She looks tired above all, but you can’t help but notice a fidgety manner about her — dark eyes always flitting to avert your gaze, hands spinning her rings around and around her fingers. There is a general restlessness to her that you aren’t used to — it’s worrying.

“I understand that you’re frustrated—”

“What if it had been me?” You cross your arms. “Would you have hunted me?”

Lottie scoffs.

“Answer me. Would you have?”

She hesitates. She waits a beat too long before answering. You see the same flightiness. “No.”

You let it drop for now. You don’t want to press her and end up with a different answer. “Did it hurt?”

She’s becoming quite done with this. Her tone is laced with sarcasm, sharp with it. “When I fell from heaven?”

“When you got shot.”

“Yes, it fucking hurt.”

“I want to see.”

Again she sighs, more dramatically this time — but after a moment’s hesitation Lottie pulls off her black jacket. Your eyes find it immediately, though the wound is tiny. It’s already beginning to scar: the small mark of the bullet you remember all too clearly embedded in her skin.

“Are you okay?” Lottie asks.

“Are you?”

She offers you a soft smile — it’s not really an answer, more mournful than anything, but momentarily you have been persuaded to put your anger aside when her hands take yours and again you are home.

“If you ever get shot again, I’m leaving you,” you threaten. It sounded much less surreal to say in your head.

“I don’t plan on it,” Lottie assures you. “Though I didn’t plan on getting shot the first time.”

You beg to differ. It doesn’t matter in any case, what’s done is done. Now you need her in your arms, anger and all, and she needs it too — gently, almost so as not to scare you away into a fit of rage, she kisses you.

You had been silent when she’d told you she missed you, but you had missed her just as desperately. You missed the warmth and security of her beside you as you laid in an empty bed, you missed the novelty of being able to pull her into your arms whenever you wanted and decide it’s where you both would stay for a while. You missed her, in every way, and you were still pissed at her for all she had done to lose you.

Lottie glances around the house when you pull back, trying to determine in her surroundings where the bedroom is. You can see the disapproval etched into her features — this is not her home, this is not the life you have built together.

You can’t, not yet. Too mournful still.

When you pull her back over to the couch, it is a domestic gesture. When you lean against her so that you’re nearly on top of her and gently run a hand through her hair. When her arms wrap around you and you find your gaze trained on the bullet wound and you can’t help but reach out to trace it and know that someday, when the world is less dark and mournful and all of your wounds have scarred, you will kiss it clean of the past.

sexy sexy taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun

reblogs/comments always appreciated! :)

[gothamhappiness]

haiiii i really like your writing and i was wondering if i could request a fic for the batfam and a he/they reader who has chronic pain and is going through a pretty not fun flare up and feels bad bc they haven't been able to patrol or help the others for a while, and can you make it really comforting

-🔆🦈(so i can find this later)

Hi sweetie, thank you for this request! I tried my best for it to be a gentle and comforting short oneshot.

This is my first platonic!batfamilly story, it was really fun to write. Hope you'll enjoy too!

FRIENDS ARE THE BEST PAINKILLERS (GN!reader x platonic!batfamilly)

Warnings: no proof reading, chronically ill!reader, reader!vigilante, mentions of pain, self pity and guilt, fluff and comfort

You wish the pain would go away now. 

You wish your body and mind would work together, instead of fighting each other. Weren’t they supposed to play on the same team?

Speaking of a team, you were watching the news. The Batfamily was all out tonight as some villains escaped Arkham. You were worried about them. You knew they were well trained people, but anything could happen to them.

And more than anything you were feeling guilty because you couldn't help them for another emergency. You were supposed to be one of them, you were supposed to be a vigilante too, and yet you couldn’t count how many patrols you skipped by then. 

You hated yourself for not being able to help. You couldn’t wait for the chronic pain to go away so you would be back on the field. You promised yourself you would work twice as hard to compensate. Yeah, you needed to prove to everyone that you were still worth it, that you were still part of the team.

You kept watching the news, your eyes glued to your phone.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the Batfamily brought everyone back to Arkham after a couple of hours.

You were proud of your people. You knew they were the best, and once again they showed it. 

Without thinking about it, you opened the group chat you had with them. You hadn’t sent messages in there for days now, too ashamed to reply. You wanted them to forget about you. But at the same time you missed your friends. 

“Hey guys, great job tonight! Hopefully I'll be by your side next time you'll need help” you sent while biting on your lips. 

You were such a loser, you thought. They clearly didn't need your help. You were about to put your phone down when you received a notification from Dick

“That would be great! We've been missing you. And you're truly the only one who appreciate my jokes here” you smiled as you read the messages

“Where have you been?” Jason asked you as he was away with Artemis and Bizarro when your illness had resurfaced again

“Home. Chronic pain and all. Life sucks” you replied

“It's okay, don't beat yourself up and come back when you'll be ready” Bruce sent you and you had to admit you had to read over and over again his message, feeling giddy.

Batman wasn't often messaging you, especially such encouraging words. You felt warmth blossoming inside your chest.

“Thanks a lot” you could only typed away

“You hungry? We were about to go to Batburgers. We could eat over at your place if you're not too tired?” Stephanie offered and it made you smile even more.

“I'd love that” you instantly replied

You told them what you would like and then waited for them. 

You slowly but surely clean up a little bit around even if it wasn't something they wouldn't have seen at their own place before. But you wanted them to feel good in your home, like you were feeling good around them.

A few instants later, you heard laughter echoing in your building corridors and you went to open the door. It was smelling fried food and it was also bringing you quite a lot of comfort. It might be a better night than you anticipated. 

When you saw them, you felt so grateful to have them.

Cassandra was the first one to reach for you and she gently hugged you, careful not to hurt you. You hugged her back before greeting everyone else. They all softly hugged you or embraced your shoulders. You leaned down to peck at Barbara’s cheek as she also came. The only one missing was Bruce but you didn’t really think he would be part of the improvised party. 

Tim, Jason and Damian started to gather seats around your table that was way too small for that many people, but as always, you all found a way to make room for everyone. 

Soon enough you were eating fries and chuckling at Jason's annoying remarks thrown at Dick. Barbara made a sarcastic comment about Tim who huffed and turned towards you.

“You’re gonna let her talk to me like that under your roof?” He asked you and you tried not to smile at that

“Yeah, no. Barbara, please stop. Can't you attack someone of your size for once?” you said to which Jason and Stephanie loudly laughed as Damian grinned

“Hey, Y/N” Tim huffed, faking offense “I thought you were on my side” 

“Oh no, I'm always on the side of the strongest” you shrugged “And Babs can too easily kick my ass or fry my phone, so yeah sticking by her side” you replied

“Smart move” Barbara hummed in approval

You continued to chat around, realising that for once the pain was bearable. Maybe it was because you were surrounded by people who loved you and made you happy. Cassandra put a hand on yours so your attention would be on her.

“You good?” She signed to you and you shrugged

“Right now yes, but this was truly a bad flare up and I don’t see the end of it” you admitted

“I'm sorry about that. We should have come over sooner” she said and you shook your head

“You guys are busy, it's okay” you smiled

“L/N have you eaten enough lately? You seem like you haven't got all your much needed nutritions" Damian's voice interrupted your discussion with Cassandra. 

You arched an eyebrow at that, surprised the grumpy boy seemed to care about you.

“Oh well, it's true I haven't been the best with food lately” you sheepishly admitted and Stephanie gently stroked your arm to comfort you. “But it's okay” you quickly added as everyone’s attention was now on you, and it was making you feel a little bit shy.

“Of course it is not. A warrior needs food to properly function. I will ask Alfred to cook for you and to send you the meals” Damian said and you had to admit you were half embarrassed, half exploding with joy to be under everyone's care.

“You don't have to bother him for me” you tried to refuse but Damian tutted you

“Nonsense”

“Good idea, Dami!” Dick nodded “it's true you need food and we'll deliver it to you so we'll be sure you'll eat it all” he added

“I take the first delivery” Jason said and instantly everyone started to argue over it. 

You leaned onto your seat and smiled to yourself. 

Life wasn’t that bad after all.

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

@randomnamedmira

@winterhi09

@murkyponds

@qardasngan

[reveriebae]

You Wrote That For Me, Didn't You?

pairing(s) : Idol!Yunho x Atiny!reader

word count : 1931

summary : After casually revealing your face on Tumblr, a well-known smut writer attend an ATEEZ fan meet, unaware of the consequences. When you sit in front of Yunho, something feels off—the way he looks at you, the way he lingers. Then, just before her time is up, he drops a bombshell. He follows your account. He’s read everything. And he’s not letting you go that easily.

genre : suggestive

warning(s) : Slight dub-con vibes (power imbalance), heavy tension, teasing, suggestive language, explicit themes, idol-reader dynamics, Yunho being way too confident and knowing, mild obsession undertones, reader’s worst (or best?) nightmare coming true. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : this one got my toes curling SKSKKSKSKSK. Should I make part two?🤔

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐fic under the cut🪐

You never thought twice before posting your fics. Why would you? It was just writing—just words strung together for thirsty Atinys who craved something a little more. Some of your works had gone viral, and you had a loyal following of readers who loved every filthy thing you put out.

So when you finally did a face reveal on your Tumblr, you didn’t think much of it. A casual selfie, captioned with something dumb like “Since y’all keep asking… here, take it”. A few hundred likes, some teasing comments, and that was that.

No big deal.

At least, that’s what you thought.

The excitement of the fan meet buzzed in your veins as you finally sat down in front of Yunho. Seeing him this close was unreal—the warmth of his presence, the way his smile reached his eyes, the deep, smooth hum of his voice as he greeted you.

But something felt off.

You couldn’t quite place it at first. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered, a little longer than it should. The way he studied your face like he was placing you, as if you weren’t just another fan in his long line of meet-and-greet interactions.

Then came the compliment.

“You’re really pretty in person,” he murmured, and his voice had a weight to it, like there was something more behind the words.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Ah—thank you!”

The response felt automatic, but your brain was still trying to process the way he was looking at you. Not just with the usual idol-to-fan warmth, but with something… different. Like he knew you.

His fingers tapped lightly against the table, rhythmic and patient, as if he was waiting for something. Then, just as the staff was about to signal your turn was up, Yunho leaned in ever so slightly.

And then he said it.

“You should be more careful about what you post, Jagiya.”

Your body stiffened.

Your mind blanked.

Did he just—

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, eyes widening in pure, unfiltered panic. But Yunho? Yunho just smiled. A slow, knowing curve of his lips, dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

“I follow you on Tumblr,” he continued, voice dropping just enough that only you could hear. His tone was smooth, casual, like he was discussing the weather. Like he wasn’t completely wrecking your reality in real time.

Your stomach twisted. No, this had to be a joke. A coincidence. There was no way—

“Mm.” His fingers brushed against the table, casual and lazy. “I recognized you the moment I saw your selfie.”

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You had so much smut on that account. And not just any smut—detailed, filthy scenarios that had Yunho doing things that could get you banned just for thinking about them too hard.

“I—” Your voice came out weak, shaky, and you were suddenly painfully aware of how warm your face was.

Yunho chuckled, the sound low and pleased. “You look flustered,” he mused. “Why? You weren’t shy when you wrote all those things about me.”

He was teasing you.

No—he was toying with you.

Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table as you swallowed hard, trying to force your brain to work. But you could barely breathe under his gaze, let alone form a response.

He leaned in just a little more, close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it when he said—

“You wrote that for me, didn’t you?”

Your time was up.

The staff was gently urging you to move along, but you couldn’t move—wouldn’t—until Yunho tilted his head, gaze flickering to the line behind you.

Then, just before you stood up, he murmured one last thing—low, quiet, for your ears only.

“See you later, baby.”

You walked away from the table in a daze.

The voices of other fans, the bright lights, the excited chatter—everything blurred into a distant hum, like white noise. Your body moved on instinct, following the line toward the exit, but your mind was stuck. Frozen.

Yunho knew.

Yunho read your fics.

Yunho—Jeong Yunho—had been watching your blog, scrolling through your late-night thirst posts, reading every filthy thought you had ever put into words.

Your breath shuddered as you stepped outside the venue, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat burning under your skin. Your heart was pounding—too fast, too hard—like you had just run miles instead of sitting for a harmless fan meet.

Except it wasn’t harmless.

Because Yunho’s voice was still ringing in your ears.

"You wrote that for me, didn't you?"

A shiver ran down your spine, and you had to physically shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. No. No, there was no way this was real. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he was just teasing.

Maybe—

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You nearly dropped it when you pulled it out, fingers trembling as you glanced at the screen. A notification from Tumblr. Someone had just liked one of your posts.

A post from two years ago.

Your stomach dropped.

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the app. The notification led you straight to the post—a particularly filthy piece about Yunho, one that had gone semi-viral when you first wrote it. And sitting right there, at the top of the notes—

A new like.

From a user you didn’t recognize.

Your pulse hammered as you clicked on the profile. It was nearly empty—just a default avatar, no posts, no bio. But there was one thing.

The blog name.

"ateezyunho1999."

Your mouth went dry.

No. No, no, no, this had to be a joke.

Then another notification popped up.

A message.

Your vision blurred for a second as you forced yourself to tap on it, breath shallow as you read the words.

"Come outside."

A pause.

Then—

"I'll be waiting."

Your hands shook as you stared at the message.

You could feel your own pulse in your throat, hammering like a warning. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Yunho was an idol. A celebrity. There was no way he would actually—

Your phone buzzed again.

The third message.

"Don't make me wait, baby."

The air in your lungs turned heavy. Your brain screamed at you to walk away, to ignore it, to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

But your body?

Your body was already moving.

Like you had no control over yourself, your feet carried you toward the back of the venue, slipping past groups of lingering fans, past the staff still bustling around. You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this.

And yet—

As soon as you turned the corner, stepping into the dimly lit alley behind the building, you felt him before you even saw him.

Yunho.

He was leaning against the side of a sleek black car, one hand tucked into the pocket of his coat, the other holding his phone. The glow of the screen lit up his face, casting soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jawline. But it wasn’t the way he looked that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the way he smirked when he saw you.

Slowly, he slipped his phone into his pocket, pushing off the car as he took a step toward you.

“You listen well,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That’s good.”

You should have said something. Anything. But your tongue felt heavy, thoughts tangled into knots as you stood frozen in place.

Yunho tilted his head, eyes flickering over you in a slow, deliberate sweep. His gaze was too knowing, too intimate—like he had already stripped you down in his mind.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come,” he continued, his tone almost teasing. “But then again…”

A pause.

Then—

“I know what you want.”

Your breath caught.

Yunho chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you inch by inch. He was so tall, so effortlessly imposing, and when he finally stopped in front of you, the heat of his body was enough to make your skin prickle.

“You didn’t think I’d notice you, did you?” His voice dipped lower, smooth like honey but edged with something darker. “You wrote all those filthy little things about me, and yet, when I look at you now…”

He reached out, fingers brushing along the side of your jaw, so lightly it almost wasn’t a touch at all.

“You look so shy.”

A slow smirk curled at his lips as he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was a whisper now, barely audible, but it wrapped around you like a vice.

“Do I match your imagination?”

Your breath came shallow, uneven.

The question sent a violent shiver through you.

You wanted to deny it. To shake your head, pretend you weren’t completely unraveling under his gaze. But the moment you tried to step back, his hand moved.

A firm grip on your chin.

Not rough, not forceful—just enough to keep you still. Enough to make your knees weaken.

He hummed, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, and his gaze darkened.

“You’re not answering,” he murmured. “That’s cute.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

This was dangerous. This was a situation you had only ever fantasized about—except now, reality was so much worse. Because in your fics, Yunho was just a character, a version of him built from your own desires.

But this Yunho?

This Yunho was real. And he had read everything.

His thumb pressed against your lip, just enough to make you part them. The smirk that followed was pure sin.

“Mm,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

He let the word hang in the air as his fingers trailed down, a featherlight touch along the column of your throat. A tease. A warning.

“Does the way I touch you match your imagination, too?”

Heat pooled deep in your stomach, a slow, unbearable ache curling at your core. Your body betrayed you before you could even think—back arching just slightly, like you were reaching for more.

Yunho saw it.

And he liked it.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and pleased. “Ah,” he sighed, thumb tapping against your chin. “So responsive.”

Then, just when you thought he might close the distance completely, he pulled back just enough. Enough to leave you breathless, desperate.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was deceptively gentle, like he wasn’t the same man who had just whispered filth into your ear moments ago.

Then, his lips curled again. That smirk.

“I should get going,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just ruined you with a few words and touches.

Your body screamed in protest, but before you could even think of stopping him, he was already turning toward the sleek black car parked nearby.

The door opened. He paused. Then—

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes locking onto yours one last time.

“Don’t stop writing,” he murmured. “I like seeing what you come up with.”

A slow, teasing wink.

And then—

He was gone.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

i want to use the word ‘love’

pairing: changbin x fem reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: crying, breakups, pet names (bun and bubs), very brief mentions of violence, she/her pronouns used, guest appearances by channie and jisung, no smut- just some kissing :)

an: it’s finally here! this is what won the poll and i’m so excited about it. i wanted to post it sooner, but it’s the longest thing ive written in a while and it took some time lol i hope you like it :) happy valentine’s day. you are loved ♡

masterlist

______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______

you waited outside on the curb for him to pick you up. it was just starting to get dark and you could see the sun setting behind the buildings. the concrete was cold on your bare legs, your dress only coming to mid thigh. but you couldn’t stand anymore, your feet throbbing from your shoes. you stared down and the pavement, pushing a pebble around with your finger as you sniffled. you had mostly stopped crying once changbin said he was on his way. your heart was still shattered, but somehow, knowing that he was coming made you feel better. though you were sure you still looked crazy to anyone who may be passing by. if you thought about it too much, how stupid you look and feel, a fresh wave of tears fills your waterline. so you try to think about something else.

you try, and you fail.

all you can think about is his stupid smile. how he made you feel so loved. so.. important. until he invited you to dinner tonight, only to dump you before you had even finished your salad. your eyes welled up again.

“fuck..” you said to yourself, voice watery. you threw the pebble, watched it skitter across the street as a car pulled up and parked a few feet from you. you recognized that car.

the door opened and changbin got out, rushing to your side. “are you okay?” he was crouching next to you, holding you at arms length, assessing you for injuries like you told him you were in a car crash or something. “look at me.” he put his fingers under you chin and turned your face up to him. “oh.. y/n..” his heart broke when he saw your tear stained cheeks, your red puffy eyes and running mascara. he did his best to wipe your tears with his fingers. “what happened?”

you were so relieved to see him. he was the person who was closest to you, the one you would trust with anything. that’s why he was your first thought when you needed someone to come save you. but as comforted as you were by his presence, getting dumped still really hurt. and the tears returned with his question. they spilled down your cheeks and over his fingertips. “he..” you hiccuped. “he dum-dumped me.” you struggled to get the words out, changbins sweet face and thick frame glasses blurring through your watery eyes.

he was suddenly filled with rage. how dare he dump you and then leave you stranded and crying? heartbroken and no way to get home? he wanted to track him down and give him a few swings for treating you this way.

he would never treat you this way

that thought had been crossing his mind recently. every time you found some new loser to date only to be left heartbroken a few weeks later. though, this asshole had lasted the longest, managing to stay around for six or so months. and changbin wanted to beat some sense into him. or just punch him until he felt better. but, you needed him right now. so he pushed aside the thoughts of violence, the thoughts of sticking up for you, the thoughts of treating you the way you deserved to be treated. he pushed all of those thoughts deep down and helped you up off the curb. you stood on shaky legs and he noticed that your feet were bare, your shoes discarded on the sidewalk.

he sighed at your recklessness. he looked at you, and then your shoes on the ground. “my feet hurt..” you said, your voice still broken.

“prince bin?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. he bent over and grabbed your shoes, handing them to you. and then he scooped you up. one of his arms behind your shoulders and one of them under your legs, he carried you in his arms and placed you down into the passenger seat of his car, careful not to hit your head. he was used to doing this, though he hadn’t done it in a while. you liked to go out with your friends occasionally, have some drinks, and changbin would always come and scoop you up when you were too wasted to walk to the car. you drunkenly called him a prince one evening, (though he thought you probably meant knight) and the title kind of stuck. he thought ‘prince’ was an apt title, considering the way he held you was technically called a princess carry.

but as changbin started the engine and pulled from the curb, he thought it was more like a.. bridal carry. and that made him smile.

______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______

about a month had passed since that night and not much had changed. you still went on random dates, with random guys, just searching for the one who would make you feel special. the one who would treat you like you were the most important thing in the world. that’s all you wanted. you just wanted to feel loved. to have silly little inside jokes, and hold hands, and have fake arguments about who loves who more. but so far all you’ve found are assholes and idiots. sometimes both at the same time.

“i think im going to take a break from dating.”

changbin rolled his eyes, grabbing the popcorn from the microwave and dumping it into a bowl. he returned back to where you were on the couch, drowning in a fuzzy blanket. “i’ve heard that one before.”

“no, bin, i’m serious this time. fuck all these guys.”

“you say that but you’ll swoon at the next cute guy that looks your way.” he laughed.

“i just want to find my person.” you said, a little defensive. “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

he immediately felt bad for his comment. he was just kidding. but he knew this was a sensitive topic for you right now. “i know, bubs. i didn’t mean anything. i’m just teasing.”

you let out a loud exhale. “i know, bin. i’m just frustrated with all of it. when will it be my turn? you know?”

he nodded. oh he knew too well. he often had the same thought. when would it be his turn? his turn to take you out. to kiss your cheek. to hold your hand. “you’ll find your person.” he said, looking down at the popcorn. you couldn’t see the sadness in his eyes in the darkly lit room, but you could pick up on his vibe.

“you’ll find your person too, you know.” you said, nudging his large bicep with your elbow. “i know you’ve been single for a long time, and your job is demanding, and it’s difficult with valentine’s day coming up-“

“gee thanks, y/n. you’re really making me feel better.”

you both giggled. “i mean it though!” you smiled. “you’ll find your person. i know it.”

and he smiled back at you, knowing in his heart he had already found his person. he had found you a long time ago. but you hadn’t found him yet.

he threw a piece of popcorn at you. it bounced off your cheek and landed somewhere in the blanket. “hey!” you giggled, reaching for the bowl. but he held it out of your reach. you struggled against him, trying to reach for some retaliation popcorn but it was no use.

“bubs, i don’t know why you’re throwing popcorn.” he teased, laughing. “we’re adults. let’s watch the movie.”

“you were throwing popcorn! not me!” giggling, you returned to your spot, pulling the blanket up around your middle. “i want some popcorn too.” you pouted, pressing play on the movie.

“ah.. see i don’t know if i can trust you not to throw it at me.” he grinned.

“you started it!”

“i don’t recall that.” he smirked. he grabbed a few pieces of popcorn and held them up to your mouth. “open.” he said.

and you didn’t know why, but you felt his words in your tummy. they grew wings and fluttered around, flushing your cheeks. you did as he asked and opened your mouth. he dropped the pieces in and smiled, before facing back toward the movie, shoveling popcorn into his own mouth.

what was that? you wondered. why did that fluster you? you had been best friends with changbin for as long as you can remember. but you don’t remember ever feeling.. flustered around him? of course, you knew he was attractive. the man was so incredibly handsome. there was no denying that. and he was funny and sweet. but you never allowed yourself to go there. never wanting to ruin the friendship you had built with him. but.. this was a new development. you tried to shove it down, tried to forget about it and enjoy your movie night. he held another handful of popcorn up to your lips, dropping them in. you chewed, happily. feeling content but also, warm. his body radiating heat. you scooted a little closer to him, as much as you dared, your knee touching his thigh.

he fed you some more popcorn as he tried not to hyperfixate on where your bodies were touching. he tried to relax, play it cool, but his heart was hammering.

you eventually fell asleep, as you always do during movies, your head falling against changbins shoulder. as the credits rolled he looked down at you, admiring you from this awkward angle. your long eyelashes tickled your cheeks. his hand found yours under the blanket, but he didn’t grab it. didn’t try to interlock your fingers. he just gently brushed his pinky against yours, enjoying the moment. but it didn’t last as long as he would have liked.

you made a confused noise as you stirred awake. you lifted your head from his shoulder, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. your hair was standing up, your cheeks puffy. “did i..” you yawned. “did i fall asleep?”

“you always fall asleep during movies.”

“sorry, bin. i was just so comfortable i guess.” you stretched your arms out in front of you, your lazy gaze looking over at him.

he started at you for a moment, before..

“you’re so cute.”

it just fell out of his mouth. and it wasn’t the worst thing he could have said. it wasn’t a full on love confession, but he definitely said it in a way that suggested he wanted to be more than friends. he internally chastised himself.

the butterflies returned to your tummy, still confusing you. you looked away, out of embarrassment, struggling with these new feelings you were having for your best friend. were they new feelings? or were you just now allowing yourself to feel what you had been feeling all along? you didn’t know.

changbin cleared his throat. “i should get going.” he said. “it’s late. i have practice in the morning and you need some sleep.”

you nodded sleepily, and stood to walk him out. you crossed your arms over you chest, suddenly cold without the blanket or his body heat. you dreaded crawling into your cold bed and the thought crossed your mind that it wouldn’t be so cold if changbin was there with you. you blinked hard, clearing the thought from your brain. at the door, he hugged you like always, mumbling a “g’night bubs.” into your hair.

you waved goodbye to him and latched the door shut behind him. your apartment felt dark and cold and lonely without him. and it made you sad. you pulled yourself in between your ice cold sheets and tried not to think about changbins arms wrapped around you.

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“so you just like, dropped popcorn into her mouth?”

changbin nodded. “yeah and i’m surprised she couldn’t see my hand shaking.” he smiled then, remembering. “you should have seen her face though. she’s never blushed like that because of me.”

“so maybe it’s time to tell her..?” chan sing-songed while tickling changbins sides.

“what if it ruins everything, hyung?”

changbin lounged on the couch in the practice room, his sweat soaked shirt sticking to his body. he took a drink from his water bottle, swatting chan’s hands away, catching his breath.

“it’s time to finally do something.” chan said. “if it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know and can move on. instead of pining over her for the rest of your life, yeah?”

“i guess so.” changbin ran his hands through his hair. “im just so scared.”

“y/n is your best friend. even if she doesn’t feel the same way, she wouldn’t stop being your best friend. she’s not like that.”

changbin nodded. “you’re right. i just need to get on with it.”

he noticed jisung giggling over his phone in the corner and started to ask him what was so funny, but minho called practice back together before he could.

they both stood, chan patted changbin on the back. “you’re seo changbin. you’re spearB! you can do anything.”

changbin scoffed. “that was cheesy, hyung.”

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it was the dreaded day. valentine’s day. you obviously didnt have a boyfriend to spend it with, and you didn’t really have friends to spend it with either. they all had their own relationships. all except for changbin. but with your budding new feelings, you were worried to spend it with him.

but none of that really mattered because you hadn’t heard from him? you had texted him this morning, right before you clocked in for work. and you checked it on your lunch break and there was nothing. and now it was time to head home and you were a little disappointed when you saw no notifications. but you tried not to let it get to you. he does have a very busy and demanding job. but you couldn’t help the thoughts creeping in that maybe he noticed your strange behavior last night. maybe he was worried you were attracted to him and he was pulling away. it made your stomach hurt to think about it.

but the whole way home you couldn’t help but think about it. by the end of your bus ride, you were physically ill. you had convinced yourself that you had ruined everything. that he didn’t want to be your friend anymore because he thought you were into him and that scared him. you had ruined an entire friendship spanning years and years because you couldn’t control yourself around his popcorn? you thought you may cry.

approaching your apartment, you noticed your welcome mat was crooked. the message said “welcome-ish” in swirling font and underneath that in parentheses said “depends on who you are and how long you plan to stay” though the print has faded over time. you kicked the mat back into place and slipped your key into the lock. clumsily opening the door, dragging your tired and depressed feet into the dark apartment. you toed off your shoes before flicking on the light.

and that’s when you saw him.

changbin stood in the middle of your living room, in a black button down shirt with matching black silk tie. his black slacks looking freshly pressed. his black dress shoes freshly shined. he was standing next to a table that he had set up, complete with two chairs, tablecloth, and lit candles. the entire ceiling was filled with red and pink heart shaped balloons, their curly strings cascading down. he held a small bundle of roses in his hands and he looked incredibly nervous. so handsome, but nervous.

“changbin..?” you quietly asked, stepping further into the apartment.

he cleared his throat. “uh.. hey bun.”

he brought one of his hands up to his ear, tugging on his earlobe. a nervous tick of his that he’s had the entire time you’ve known him.

you waited, staring, unsure of what to say or what was even going on and honestly, all you could think about was how handsome he looked and how you looked awful. your work clothes stained and dirty, your hair a matted mess on top of your head.

“i think i probably have some explaining to do.” he said. “well, i have a confession to make i guess.”

your heart started beating irregularly in your chest. was this what people meant when they say their heart ‘skipped a beat’?

you walked closer to him, noticing now the smell in your apartment. it smelled good. your stomach rumbled.

“these are for you..” he held the roses out and you took them from him. they really were beautiful. they were pink and smelled like spring time.

you started to thank him but he cut you off. “i just.. i need to get this out first before i chicken out.” he said.

“my apartment is filled with heart shaped balloons, bin. i think it’s too late to change your mind now.” you joked. he chuckled, your teasing seemingly making him feel a little bit better.

“i guess you’re right.” he smiled. “i.. like you.” he reached out and delicately took the flowers from you, placing them on the table. and then he took your hands in his and looked into your eyes. his hands were sweaty and shaking slightly, so you gave them a reassuring squeeze. “no, like isn’t the right word.” he paused, thinking. “i want to use the word love, but i don’t want to scare you.” his eyes softened. “but bun.. that’s what it feels like. and i’ve felt this way for so long now. i don’t think i can stand to see you cry over another idiot guy who doesn’t deserve you. who doesn’t treat you right. i’ve been silent because i didn’t want to ruin what we have. you’re my best friend in the whole world and i would never want to jeopardize that.” he swallowed and took a deep breath. “but, i love you bubs.” he exhaled, feeling relieved at finally saying it out loud to you. “i want to be the one to take you out. to hold your hand, and to cuddle you at night. i know i can treat you the way that you deserve to be treated. if.. if you’ll have me.”

“bin..” you reached up and grabbed his face between your palms. “i wish you would have told me sooner. maybe.. maybe if you would have said something before, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to realize that.. i love you too.” you smiled.

his face absolutely lit up. his eyes went wide and his smile grew large. “really?” he asked, feeling like he was dreaming. like he needed to make sure he heard you correctly. you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “say it again.” he said.

“i love you, bin.”

he grabbed you around your waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you in a soft circle. “again!” he giggled.

“i love you!” you giggled back.

he sat you on your feet and looked into your eyes again. he tucked your hair behind your ear and stroked your cheek with his thumb. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that. but..” he tilted his head back and forth, thinking. his lips in a smirk. “i love you more.”

“not true!” you argued.

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“wait, you cooked?”

he chuckled. “i tried. i hope it tastes okay.”

you stuck your fork in the pasta, bringing it to your mouth. “i thought you only cooked for sustenance. wait, does this spaghetti have protein powder in it?”

he stuck his tongue out at you from across the small table. “very funny. just try it. i wanted to try cooking for you. i need to know if i should never do it again.”

you took a bite, chewing slowly. it was actually really good. “binnie, this is delicious.”

his shoulders relaxed and he took a bite of his own. “wow, it’s not terrible.” he said, chuckling. “i didn’t know i could do that.”

you ate your meal and sipped on some wine and talked about your day, just like normal. turns out, he hadn’t been answering your texts because he had been here setting all of this up. he used the spare key that you kept under your mat to let himself in. he said it took forever to blow up all the balloons and he was worried you would come home to find him passed out on the floor, surrounded by half filled balloons. only then did he discover that they only floated if they were filled with helium. so then he had to figure that out. and it took him even longer to cook the pasta, really working hard to make sure it was right. and he used your shower to wash up (if you thought about that for too long it made you squirmy) and he put on his nice clothes. then he says he waited in ‘a state of panic’ for you to finally come home.

“i can’t believe you did all of this for me.” you said, leaning back in your chair, sipping your wine.

“i wanted you to know how special you are to me.” he stood up and grabbed your plate, taking them both to the sink. he rolled up the sleeves of his button up, exposing his muscular forearms. you weren’t sure if it was the wine, but you had plenty of thoughts about those forearms. he began washing the dishes, the sound of running water filling the apartment. you finished your wine and brought it to the sink, sitting it on the counter next to the dirty cutlery. you looked at him, admiring his appearance. he really filled out his shirt nicely. it was spread tightly against his broad chest, the buttons barely hanging on.

“bun, you’re staring.” he smirked.

“sorry. you just look.. so good.” you confessed. “plus, i can openly stare now without fear of making you uncomfortable. it’s not.. making you uncomfortable, is it?” you pulled your eyes away from his biceps and looked up to his eyes. he was smiling, the tips of his ears a light pink.

“i don’t mind if you look. want me to take the shirt off and flex?”

your jaw fell open, your core pulsed. “don’t tease about that.”

he turned the water off and dried his hands with the towel. he walked over and touched your cheek again, cupping it in his palm. his eyes were darker now, and his thumb grazed across your bottom lip. “i’m not teasing.” he said, his voice low.

you thought your knees may give out. you grabbed his arms, steadying yourself. you had never seen this side of him before. had never seen him flirt and be so.. sexy. he leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, your erratic breath mingling with his. he waited.

“binnie..” you exhaled. “kiss me.”

he slowly brought his lips to yours, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. it started off slow and sweet but soon became a little more heated when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. you brought your hands up around his neck, tangling them in his hair. he kissed down your jaw and to your neck, licking and nibbling at the soft skin there. you threw your head back, panting. “bin.. let’s go to my room?” you phrased it as a question because you didn’t want him to feel pressured. after all, he had only confessed his feelings for you an hour ago. you didn’t want him to feel like things were moving too fast.

but he immediately bent down and scooped you up in his arms. “prince bin.” he mumbled against your lips, carrying you through your apartment and to your bed.

and you smiled into the kiss, your heart so full you thought it may burst. if you thought about it too hard you were sure that you would start crying. because you knew.. you had found your person. and he had been here all along.

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↑ inspo for binnies valentines fit hehe ↑

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[alluramiura]

“𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒶 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁ℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓉ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊” ｜se-mi x reader

summary: you save se-mi during lights out.

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: lowercase intended, death description, 124 dies, se-mi lives, mentions of youngmi’s death (💔), reader is an implied foreigner

authors note: i was going to post something abt hyunju but i remembered how se-mi died and i got mad all over again. minsu you’re a fucking coward. enjoy.

you met se-mi after the first game, before six-legged pentathlon. you talked a few times, the first time being when you two agreed to team up. after the agreement, she proposed the idea to split up and search for more teammates.

a few minutes later, you found two players willing to join you; hyunju and youngmi. when you found her again, she had found four other players.

before you could say anything, one of the men behind her spoke up.

“who’s this, se-mi? the limit is five. we have all of our members.” he says, so quietly you almost can’t hear him. he was standing the closest to se-mi, and you notice his number is 125.

your eyes flicker to his for a second before flickering back to se-mi, who looks like she was about to give you an apology before another one of the men speaks, quite loudly.

“who’s this chick?” a man with purple hair—“thanos“— steps forward to address you directly.

“oooh, i see what’s happening. you want to join the amazing thanos’ team, huh? we are sadly out of room, señorita. but come to me next round, yeah?”

you stare at him blankly before turning back to se-mi. “it’s okay. i found a few people. you can stay with your group.”

she nods hesitantly, and you give her a faint smile before turning to return to the two players you found, who have now found two more players.

after the second game, you spoke again, a little before voting.

you opened up about your situation, how you were still relatively new to life in seoul, and how it’s been rougher than you imagined it would be, especially with the whole death game thing.

she sat and listened, nodding softly as you explained the last few months of your life to her.

she spoke about her situation a little as well. she didn’t say much, just that going back to her life was as good as staying here would be.

hearing that, you shouldn’t have felt as shocked, almost betrayed as you did when you saw her with the small “O” patched onto her jacket.

you knew you really had no right to be upset—everyone was here for a reason, some reasons being worse than the others, and her singular vote would have changed nothing regardless—but you couldn’t help but think of how the majority of players would choose money over fellow human life, her being one of them.

you try not to let her see how much the thought bothers you, but she seems to catch on almost immediately.

“are you upset that i chose to continue?” she asked, a bit suddenly, after noticing you’ve barely said anything and had been avoiding her gaze.

“…i’m not upset at you directly. i just…wanted to go home really bad.” you mutter softly, fidgeting with your necklace.

she hums in acknowledgement, and what seems like understanding.

“i wish i felt the same way.”

the next time you talk to her after that was during the third game.

mingle was probably the most stressful for you. you stayed with youngmi and the rest of your designated group for the most part.

that is, until youngmi died.

seeing her lifeless body covered in blood changed something within you.

when the farris wheel stopped spinning once more, you almost didn’t move. however, you suddenly felt the strong urge to make it out of here alive, if not for yourself, then for the friends, family you found here that might not make it along the way.

when you saw se-mi again, she was alone, looking around frantically for another person after the number two was called out.

you first noticed that she wasn’t with her team, but you pushed that thought away as you rushed towards her, grabbing her arm and sprinting to an empty room.

once you were in the room with the door shut, you pressed your back against the wall, catching your breath.

after a few seconds of silence and heavy breathing, se-mi speaks up, her voice hoarse and breathy.

“thank you.”

hearing that, you look up at her before nodding, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the wall.

“you’re welcome.”

when you left the room, you noticed she stayed near you and your group instead of with the people she was with before.

you didn’t mind.

the final time you talked to her before lights out was after the second vote.

when you saw she voted “X”, you were almost as shocked as you were seeing her vote the first time.

you didn’t ask what changed her mind, however. instead, you asked her what happened with her team.

“they…they’re assholes. i should’ve known from the start.” she mumbles, sighing softly.

you two spoke a little more, and you told her about your newfound motivation to make it out no matter what, after witnessing the death of your friend.

you shed a few tears thinking of youngmi. you didn’t know her for long, but like many other people you met here, you formed a bond you knew you’d never have with anyone else you’d ever meet.

se-mi gently put a hand on your shoulder as you cried silently, her expression grim.

you stayed with her for the remainder of the time before lights out.

now, as everyone’s killing one another and the scent of copper fills the air, you run around frantically looking for a place to hide.

you were climbing to the top of one of the bunk beds when you heard a familiar voice.

a shriek.

you look behind you, and a few feet away stood player 124, standing over se-mi with a bloodied fork in hand, looking like he was ready to attack.

that same feeling you got seeing youngmi die suddenly came back full force, and before you even realized it, you had hopped off the latter and began running towards the two.

as you approached, you locked eyes with se-mi as she struggled to fight him off.

suddenly, a glass bottle shatters, causing you to step back, and namgyu to pause his murderous actions, looking up to find the person who threw it.

while he’s distracted, you grab a shard of the glass and jab it into his his shoulder from behind.

namgyu lets out a pained cry as the glass pierces his shoulder. in an instant, he swivels around, backhanding you in the face.

you hit the ground pretty hard, feeling blood trickle down your nose. your vision was slightly blurred and you were disarrayed, your hand pressing against your temple where you initially hit the ground.

se-mi’s eyes widen, a strangled gasp leaving her lips as she watches you fall to the ground. adrenaline fuels her as she takes the opportunity to scramble to her feet, kicking namgyu in his side.

he doubles over slightly, but quickly recovers as he takes another step towards se-mi.

to her surprise, you get back on your feet, gripping the shard of glass so hard that blood runs down your wrist as you charge at namgyu again.

her heart racing, she joins fray in a flurry of limbs and desperation, punching and kicking wherever she could. namgyu was strong, however, and he managed to dodge all of your messily aimed attempts at stabbing him, his own adrenaline surging.

he suddenly grabs se-mi’s wrist forcefully, slamming her against the wall and raising his fork over his head, preparing to stab se-mi in the neck.

“no!” you shriek, balancing yourself and locking your blurry vision onto namgyu before charging at him a final time, stabbing him in the back harshly.

you don’t stop after the first stab, continuing to drill the glass into his back repeatedly, his blood splattering all over your shirt and skin.

he screams out in pain, staggering as his strength slowly leaves his body.

it’s only when he hits the ground, choking on his own blood as it pools around him when you realize what you’ve done, your hands shaking as you look down at the blood covering your hands.

you almost feel sick knowing it’s not just your own.

if someone told you a week ago that you’d become a murderer trying to protect yourself and your loved ones in a death game you’d blindly signed up for, you’d call a psychiatrist.

you drop the glass, trembling as you slowly look up at se-mi, tears beginning to stream down your face.

se-mi quickly runs over to you, her heart pounding in her chest. she grabs your face, holding it in her hands as she checks for any fatal injuries.

when she sees that you don’t have any major wounds, she pulls you into a tight hug.

you wrap your arms around se-mi as you bury your face into her neck, sobbing as the reality sinks in of what you’ve just done.

she kept her arms caged around you protectively, as she looks around to make sure no one else tries to attack you two.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i got you.” she whispers, her own voice wavering as she rubs your back, attempting to comfort you for the second time that day, only under completely different circumstances.

“i-it all happened so fast…” you cry out, clinging onto se-mi like a lifeline. “h-he was trying to kill you, se-mi…i had to…i had to.”

“shhh…it’s alright. you saved me.” she murmurs, slowly guiding you to a nearby corner, hidden in the shadows from the chaos. she doesn’t once let you go, her eyes scanning the room for any immediate danger as the lights flicker.

after a while, she pulls back, gently tilting your head up so you could look at her. her thumb brushes away the tears streaming down your face, her touch tender.

"you're safe now. it's over."

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | three - golf & parties

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 5.2k content: angst! alcohol consumption, cursing, fluff authors note: happy valentines! longest chapter so far and I don't think they are getting shorter. Anyways, thank you for everyone who has been reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. enjoy! <3

He couldn’t stand your cold demeanor towards him for one more second. He was aware he wasn’t your favorite person, but you were never cold to him. Bitchy and a pain in his ass sometimes? Yes, but never cold. You had this warm presence he always claimed to hate, but that was a complete lie. That’s one of the reasons he liked you so much; no matter where you were or what you did, you always made things better, not only for him but for everyone around you. That was also why he felt jealous of how you were with the Pogues, even though he would never admit it out loud. He wanted to be the reason you were smiling, which usually wasn’t how things went, and he was aware it was his fault.  

During the next three days, Rafe avoided going to the Country Club on purpose because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, and he’d rather not make things worse. He knew you hated him at the moment, so to avoid making things worse, he stayed home. He hated feeling that way; it was as if the thought of you was enough to make his brain short-circuit.  

He groaned for what felt like the millionth time that day. Since three days ago, you had been stuck in his mind. He had been uncharacteristically distracted and quiet; his dad had asked him to pull himself together a couple of times during work meetings and he had barely interacted when he got together with his friends.  

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Topper asked, pausing the game they were playing.  

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his tone indicating he was anything but fine.

“Right, sure, that’s why you have been moping for the past few days like a little boy who lost his mom at the supermarket, because you’re fine… sure.”  

“Not moping, just a lot on my mind.”  

“Like Pogue girl or wor—?” Topper didn’t finish his question before Rafe cut him off.  

“Shut up,” he bites back.  

“Oh! So it is her, huh? What’s her name again?” Rafe shoots him a glare, and Topper lifts his arms in surrender. “Okay, damn! My bad… why don’t we go to the club? A bit of golf might help.”  

“Can’t, I have to help Sarah prepare things for the party.” Topper looks at him, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.  

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You never help her with anything; it’s her party, let her handle it.” Rafe sighs, annoyed. “Come on, man, to release some stress before the party.”  

He stalled for a bit but sighed, giving in. “Fine… one round, that’s it.”  

“Atta boy, I knew you would come through.”  

No, he didn’t forget you worked there and that he might see you, but he was trying his best not to think about that. They made it to the Country Club; Topper had this mischievous gleam in his eyes. He would be lying if he said he didn’t plan this, all to see if you and Rafe could interact again. He had fun watching his friend stumble over his words, but he also knew Rafe was in a better mood every time he saw you, so at the end of the day, it was for the greater good if he saw you.

They made their way to their first hole. Topper didn’t miss how Rafe looked around, giving subtle, constant glances at the trail as they started playing golf. He was struggling to avoid thinking about you, secretly hoping you would show up in your cart, wearing that uniform that fit you like a glove, and… Topper pulls him out of his thoughts by telling him it’s his turn to hit.

—

After your break, you returned to the golf course, ready to continue your round. After a few minutes, you spotted two guys. You prepared mentally to greet them. Over the years, you had learned how to overcome your shyness, but some days, you felt your skin crawl whenever you had to address a club member. When you got closer, you noticed who they were and sighed. You parked the cart, and Topper’s face immediately changed as he gave Rafe a knowing smirk. Rafe turned around and saw you, straightening up as he noticed you stepping out of the cart.  

"Do you ever go to other places?" You smiled but avoided Rafe’s gaze as best you could.  

"Yes, but we just can’t stay away from here." Topper chuckled softly and then turned to see Rafe, who was unusually quiet. It was as if his tongue didn’t work.  

"Will you buy something today, or will I have to beg for tips?" You asked, lifting a brow.  

"We will buy something today, no need to worry," Topper said. He had been there the last few days, and to your surprise, he was nice, unlike other kooks. You had talked briefly with him a couple of times before and could see yourself being friendly with him, not just because your job required you to be nice to them.  

"And we’ll make sure to tip you well too," Rafe said finally chiming in, making you turn to acknowledge him.  

"Okay, good." Topper noticed how you weren’t smiling at Rafe, and as much as he enjoyed the tension, he was curious about what led to this. Rafe, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at you.  

"So what’s the special today?" Topper spoke up.  

"We don’t have specials," you smiled. "But the Bloody Mary has been a bit popular today. Here’s the menu if you want to see what else we have." You extended the menu to them, and Rafe took it from your hand, doing anything but looking at the menu.  

"Yo Rafe, everything good?" Topper asked, noticing he was a bit distracted all this while trying not to laugh.  

"Yes, I'm just… deciding what I want." You stood there, trying to mind your business, but you stole a few glances at Rafe. He seemed different today, or maybe you were just imagining things.  

"Well, while he decides, I want a Bloody Mary and two shots," Topper requested nicely.  

"Bloody Mary, simple or double?"  

"Simple, don’t want to overdo it." You nodded.  

"I’ll just have a beer," Rafe asked quietly, noticing the familiarity with which you and Topper talked, and he hated every second of it.

“Okay,” you said as you walked to prepare the Bloody Mary and took out the shots and the beer they had asked for. During this whole time, Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, even if he tried his best not to make it obvious.  

“Bloody Mary and shots,” you handed them to Topper, who grabbed them. “And the beer,” you gave it to Rafe, your fingers touching his slightly, sending a jolt through both your arms, but you ignored it.  

“It’s $30 for the Bloody Mary and the shots.” You turned to Topper, who handed you a fifty-dollar bill.  

“Keep the change,” Topper said, taking a sip. “Wow, this is good.”  

“Thanks,” you smiled, putting the bill away. “The beer is $10.” Rafe handed you the bill quietly, his eyes meeting yours; he could swear you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. You looked away and put the bill away. “No tip this time?” you asked, trying to see if he would bite back. He had been uncharacteristically quiet, and that didn’t sit right with you.  

Rafe smirked. “Oh, you want one?”  

“I did an amazing job giving you that beer. I think I deserve it.” A small smile you couldn’t control formed on your lips. Rafe looked over at you before he dared to speak again. He wanted to make a snarky comment to tease you, but nothing came to mind; he only managed a soft grunt.  

“Yeah, you did a great job.” His voice was slightly strained, but Topper didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in.  

“Come on, Rafe, give her a tip. It’s the least you can do; after all, she’s been an amazing waitress.” Rafe shot him a glare, not finding his comment amusing.  

“I’m not a waitress,” you said, looking at them.  

“Bev cart girl, excuse me.” Topper lifted one hand. “Either way, you’ve been great, and I think Rafe here agrees, right, man?” He nudged Rafe, who just huffed quietly.  

“Yeah, you’ve been… great.” His voice was a bit gruff. He wanted to strangle Topper for making this all harder for him. “You deserve a… nice tip.”  

“There you go,” Topper continued teasing him. “Don’t hold back.” Rafe grabbed his wallet, not without giving another look to Topper, wishing he wasn’t there. Now he didn’t want to look cheap, especially not in front of you. He grabbed a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to you. You widened your eyes.  

“What?” Topper wanted to laugh at your reaction; your cold demeanor with him before was gone in an instant, and your eyes had softened. Rafe was a bit embarrassed, blushing, but it was barely noticeable thanks to the weather.  

“Take it as a…” he paused for a second, looking for the right words. “A token of appreciation… for the good service today and on the other days.” He nodded, knowing what he said sounded very stupid.  

“Uh… this is too much; it’s like five beers. It’s—” Before you could even finish, he shook his head.

“Take it. You deserve it.” But this time, the tone he uses makes you believe his words; he’s not playing, he’s not being an asshole. It was one of those moments where you could maybe see another side of him.  

“Thank you.” You give him a small, honest smile, and he softens at the sight of it, his irritation fading slightly. He smiles back, feeling like his heart might leap out of his chest; it’s genuinely embarrassing for him to feel like this around you.  

“No problem.” His voice comes out softer than usual, and you decide to ignore it, even if it’s noticeable.  

“Well… I should be going.” Topper nods and takes another sip of his Bloody Mary. Rafe, on the other hand, isn’t happy about you having to leave.  

“Wait,” he says, making you turn back to him. Even Topper, who was already walking back to his cart, turns to see what Rafe will do. “Uh… before you go,” he pauses to gather his thoughts, “I have a question.”  

“Yeah, what is it?” you ask, a bit confused about where this is going.  

“Do you work here every day?” He never breaks eye contact with you.  

"I usually don’t work on weekends unless they ask me, and my shifts during the week can vary too."  

“What’s the usual?”  

“Uh… 7 to 3. Sometimes I do overtime, and some days I work just half a shift.”  

“You do overtime today?”  

“No, I get off at 3.” Rafe’s eyes light up at your answer, an idea forming in his mind already.  

“Good. There’s a party at my house today at 7. Why don’t you come?”  

“Oh…” you stutter. This is not how you thought this conversation was going to go. In general, you didn’t know how it was going to go, but this was definitely not it. “I—I don’t think I can make it, but thanks.” You see the way his face drops, and for a second, you feel bad. Then you remember who you are dealing with and shrug it off.  

“Right…” he says, feeling very disappointed about it. You get back into the cart and drive away.  

“Look at you, actually trying this time,” Topper says, patting Rafe’s back.  

“Shut up.” Rafe’s soft demeanor is gone the second you’re not around.  

“Oh, okay, I see how it is. Pogue princess disappears, and you’re grumpy again—okay, okay.”  

“I will knock you out.” Rafe points a finger at Topper.  

“Let’s not do that, or who else will be here to help you with her?”  

“Help? I don’t need help.”  

“From where I was standing, you do need help, or did I imagine her saying no?” Rafe glares at Topper, and he takes a sip of his beer. “Fine… I will shut up.”

—

After your shift is over, Sarah and Kie pick you up from the Country Club and go to Kie’s house to relax. Even though you were probably going to end up going out, it was Friday, so it was a given. Probably another Boneyard party, you thought.

You were lying on Kie’s bed, eating the snacks she had brought while Sarah was talking. You weren’t paying too much attention until she spoke directly to you.

“Earth to Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Golfers can sometimes be a bit too annoying,” you said, thinking about Rafe. Even though he hadn’t been annoying this time around, there weren’t many other words you would openly use to describe him.

“Well, you will forget about those golfers tonight,” she said a bit too happily.

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t read the group chat,” Kie spoke up and then turned to look at you. “Sarah is having a party tonight at Tannyhill.” You felt your stomach drop; it was the same party Rafe had invited you to, and you had said no because you had plans. You opened your mouth to say something, but Sarah spoke before you could even get a word out.

“No, you can’t say no; it’s mandatory. It’s time for you to unwind!” She wiggled her arms as you stared at her.

“I’m tired, Sarah.” You looked at her and then at Kie, pleading for help. You didn’t want to see Rafe after saying you couldn’t go; it was a choice to see him outside your work hours—a choice you didn’t want to make.

“Sarah is right; you need to unwind. Come on,” Kie nudged you. “You can use my shower if you need to. We can go by your place if you want clothes, but you can use mine; they’ll fit you.” She pointed at her closet.

“You planned this, you evil people,” you pointed at them.

“Maybe, but if not, you were going to say no. And it’s at my house; what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Probably Rafe,” Kie said, almost like she had read your mind. You didn’t say anything.

“He's not going to be a problem; he’s going to be with his friends.”

“Oh yay, Topper and Kelce,” Kie says, rolling her eyes. “They are not the only friends he has, and Kelce is not invited.” At that, you perk up your ears; you want to ask why, but you busy yourself with your phone. “Oh, that’s new. Why?” 

“I said the same. He mentioned something about a fight they had over something he said, but didn’t give me many details, and it’s not like I care… but enough about my brother and his friends. You get ready,” she said, grabbing your shoulders. “And you,” she pointed at Kie, “make sure she gets there,” she said while walking to the door. “See you, my beautiful princesses!”

As Sarah exits Kie’s room, you sigh. “Do I really need to go?” 

“Look, I know you’re done seeing kooks every day, but we can ignore all of them today. Other people are going to the party, so it’s going to be fun. Now come on, let’s get dressed.” 

“I do need to shower first.” 

“Yeah, but first let’s see what you’re going to wear.” She opens her closet and starts taking things out. 

“Hey! This is mine,” I say when I see one of my dresses. 

“Well, look at that,” she jokes. “It’s a sign you need to wear that.” 

“It’s a sign that you robbed my closet.” You grab the mini black dress; it was one of your favorites. 

“Sue me, but this is your sign to use it and take it back to your house.” 

You spend a few more minutes looking at the options she threw at your face, picking what she would wear. After finally deciding, she gives you a towel so you can shower and start getting ready for the party you don’t want to attend. You take your time to shower and get ready, and when you both are set, Kie drives you to your house because you need to give something to your mother, allowing you to leave the things you won’t need and take only your essentials to the party. After that, you pick up the guys and Cleo.

—

When you arrived at the party, it was 7:30 p.m., and the music was blaring from inside. There were more people than you had expected to be there at that time, but again, it was Sarah’s party, so of course, there were going to be many people already there. You planned to stay at the party for a few hours, then say you had to wake up early the next day and leave. However, it was easier said than done.

As you walked inside, the music grew louder, and you saw some familiar faces smiling at you as they looked your way. As you and the Pogues searched for Sarah, you began to feel a bit anxious. You shouldn’t feel bad about saying no to Rafe and then showing up… but then why did you? You finally found her in the kitchen, where the snacks and cold drinks were.

“Y/N!!! You look so pretty!” she exclaimed happily as she hugged you first.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Cleo chimed in teasingly.

“Oh, please don’t say that. I’m happy to see you all here, but let’s be honest: when was the last time this girl actually got ready for something other than work?” Sarah stated again, and everyone silently agreed with her. You rolled your eyes.

“At least I work,” JJ chuckled quietly at your comment.

“Ouch?” Sarah feigned offense. “Enough about work. Grab a drink and make yourselves at home. John B is outside, so go. I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, disappearing again. JJ didn’t need to be told twice to grab a drink and went straight for a beer, and so did Cleo and Pope. Kie made herself a drink, and you did the same, but unlike Kie, yours had barely any alcohol; it was mostly just Sprite.

As you walked out of the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of Topper, who looked at you, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion. You hurried away quickly, cursing internally. If he saw you, that meant he was going to tell Rafe whether you liked it or not, but just like Kie had told you, you were going to ignore everyone and stick to your friends.

One thing you hadn’t considered or even thought about was that maybe Rafe would be outside. You didn’t see him, but he saw you when you and the Pogues stepped out. His gaze would normally soften when he saw you, but at that moment, he felt betrayed. Did you hate him that much? He didn’t think you were the kind of person who would willingly lie just to make someone feel bad.

—

As the night went on, you focused on your friends and those who came to the group to talk instead of on where you were. Rafe, on the other hand, was drinking to distract himself from your presence. He had noticed you were chatting with a guy who had approached you. You thought this guy was nice, but Rafe didn’t; he would have done something about it but decided to drink instead. 

You caught glimpses of Rafe, each time with a new girl and always with a drink in hand. Why couldn’t he stick to just one girl? You found yourself caring too much about what he was doing and refocused on the guy in front of you. You weren’t really interested, but it was always nice to meet new people.

“Are you trying to burn a hole in the back of her head?” Topper asked when he noticed the intense gaze Rafe had on you. 

“What?” 

“You are staring.” Topper glanced at you too; he had to admit you looked good. 

“You are too.” 

“Don’t drag me into this, but in my defense, she looks really good.” Topper said with a teasing tone, wanting to mess with him. Rafe took a big sip of his drink, feeling the burning sensation slide down his throat. “Woah, slow down.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“I get it; you’re jealous, but don’t take it out on the alcohol. Drink some water, or you will regret it.” 

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of that? He’s…” Rafe trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He was talking to you, and you were engaged in the conversation. You were interested, which you usually weren’t with him. So yeah, he was jealous. 

He downed the drink in his hand and kept staring at you as if it were his life’s purpose. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way; he had no power over you, but it was as if you held power over him. If you were his girl, he would make sure everyone knew, but you weren’t, so he had to let you be and let you talk to whoever you wanted, even if the guy wasn't good enough. You deserved someone who could give you everything. He could be… he stopped himself; he couldn’t keep thinking about this. So, more alcohol it was.

You went inside the house to grab a new drink and more ice. He saw you, and before his brain fully processed it, he was already following you. He was a man on a mission, though what that mission was, even he didn't know. He heard Topper saying something, but he ignored it; nothing was more important than getting to you. 

When you got to the kitchen, you felt a sense of relief—no one was there. You grabbed more ice and Sprite; you weren't really in the mood for an alcoholic drink. After pouring it into your red cup, you stayed there, and then Rafe showed up, interrupting your party break just like he had done at the Boneyard. You didn’t want to deal with him alone… again. 

Some might say you couldn't move on from what he said and that you resented him. Well, maybe you did, and you hated it because it felt like allowing him to dictate your feelings. Your thoughts were interrupted by his closeness. Oh, he was drunk; his eyes were different, and he seemed more relaxed than usual, but you noticed something was bothering him.

“So…” he cleared his throat. “Weren’t you busy tonight?”  

“I wasn’t going to come; your sister made me,” you answered.  

“Right…” he paused for a second. “Next time, don’t lie to my face,” he said with annoyance. You huffed at his tone.  

“I’m not wasting my time with you.” You turned away from him, not catching his comment.

“No… come on, I want to talk to you.” He stepped in front of you to stop you from leaving; he was set on talking to you.  

“I doubt it. I know I have nothing to talk to you about.”  

“Yes, you do. We have things to talk about.” The way he said it made it easy for you to know what he was referring to, and it made you angry. He had to be drunk to address it for the first time when he had seen you plenty of times before.  

“No, I’m not doing this today; in fact, I'd rather never do it.”  

“Y/N…” he spoke your name almost pleadingly and a bit slurred. “I know I messed up…” he started, but you quickly interrupted him.  

“Stop it.”  

“Let me talk! I’m trying to make things right, and you’re not letting me!”  

“Yes! Because you are drunk, Rafe! And I’m not having this conversation with you like this or ever. For all I know, you’re doing this just because you are drunk or high or both.” He knitted his eyebrows together at your words.  

“What? I’m not high. Who do you think I am?”  

“It’s common knowledge that the only reason you would ever step into the Cut is for drugs from Barry.”  

“According to who? Your pogue friends?” He felt the anger bubbling up, and you huffed.  

“Why do you always have to say it like that?”  

“Like what?”  

“Like you hate them, like you hate us.”  

“Bold statement coming from you,” he said, the alcohol making it harder for him to filter his words.  

“Excuse me?” You asked, genuinely confused at what he was hinting at.  

“Oh, what? Pogue girl get offended? At least I can say it without having to lie.” You scrunched your face; there was one thing you hated more than anything, and that was being called a liar.  

“I have never lied to you. Actually, I think I have been transparent enough to let you know I can’t stand you.”  

“Oh, I got that clear, pogue. You hate me, I know. You lied to prove your point; next time, just have the guts to say it upfront.”  

“What are you on about?”  

“This party! I invited you; I wanted you here, and you said no.” He grabbed a bottle of some liquor and took a swig of it, the burning sensation numbing, for a second, all that he was feeling at the moment. “You said to MY face you were busy and couldn’t come, and look at you here, having the time of your life, laughing with your friends and talking to other guys who don’t even deserve your attention.”

He took another swig from the bottle of what you now know is whiskey. You were confused, perhaps even in denial about his words.  

“I didn’t know!” you huffed. “I didn’t know this was the plan; I was going to go out with my friends, and I didn’t know this was the place.”  

“You want me to believe you didn’t know, huh? Your little nice act won’t work this time.”  

“No, no, I’ve gotten enough shit from you. I won’t put up with this,” you said, walking out of the kitchen. He stopped you in the middle of the hallway. “Rafe, stop it!”  

“No! You aren’t even listening to me!”  

“Why should I? I’m wasting my time here.”  

“Pardon me, your Majesty. I know there are other people more deserving of your attention than me,” his voice dripping with anger and sarcasm.  

“Leave me alone for once!” You pulled your arm away and walked out of the house, not even thinking twice about it. You thought it was over, but you were wrong.  

“Running away again? That’s all you seem to know how to do every time I say something you don’t like.”  

“You’re an even bigger asshole when you’re drunk,” you huffed.  

“Me? You’re the one lying when I’m trying to be nice to you.”  

“Nice? How? Talking down to me and my friends? Making me feel like I don’t belong here?”  

“Not all of us are natural rays of sunshine, princess.” He stopped. “I… It’s hard for some people. I—” he groaned, “I wanted you here! I’m sorry for—” you interrupted him.  

“You’re drunk.”  

“I know what I’m saying! Stop acting like I don’t. I mean this!”  

“No!”  

“STOP, Y/N! JUST… stop.” He sighed and walked closer to you, making you take a step back. 

“I’m trying here… but you’re being an asshole about it, and I’m TRYING to apologize for something I know I did wrong.”  

“You’re drunk…”  

“Stop saying that, as if it makes my words invalid! I know what I’m saying and I mean every word!”  

“I don’t believe them! Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t believe drunk words; alcohol doesn’t allow you to think straight, and I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” You turned away, ready to walk.

“For someone who claims to always be kind, you are doing a terrible job right now.” You stop in your tracks but don’t look back. “I’m here being honest, and all you do is think the worst of me… you’re just like everyone else…” he said, slurring more as the alcohol finally caught up to him. “I’m actually sorry, princess…” 

You heard the moment he walked back inside, and you finally turned. You watched as he went in and disappeared into his house, leaving you with the silence of the night and your thoughts. Why did he always leave you like this? Always analyzing his words. He sounded sincere; you could feel that, but there were so many layers to the conversation you didn’t want to dissect, yet you knew you were going to.

“You're leaving?” Topper interrupted your thoughts.

“Uh… yeah, I’m tired.” 

“Who is taking you?” No one; you were going to walk. A stupid decision, probably. 

“My friends,” you lied. 'You’re the one lying,' Rafe’s words echoed in your head. 

“Liar, they’re still inside.” You sighed. “Come on, I’ll drop you off. I need to buy more ice, so let’s go.” You didn’t protest and followed him to his car. 

You got in, gave him the address, and he drove in silence. He stopped for a bit of ice at a small store he found when he was closer to the address you provided. 

“Here, it’s okay.” You made him stop beforehand. You didn’t give him the exact address of your house; you were a bit paranoid about sharing it unless it was someone close to you. Topper parked his car right where you told him. 

“Thanks… you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Rafe would’ve killed me if something happened to you.” He paused, debating whether to say something else. “He would’ve done it, but he was too drunk.” 

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “I promise I didn’t know I was going to end up at the party…” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said sincerely. “You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation.” You nodded; you knew that, but it was as if you needed to ensure someone understood. You said your goodbyes and walked to your house, which was just around the corner from where Topper had left you.

You went directly to your room to change clothes. It was supposed to be a good night, and yet here you were, with your feelings all over the place, but mainly feeling guilty.

12:55 AM - Pope “Where are you?”

12:55 AM - Pope “Please tell me you’re alive”

12:55 AM - You “I am, sorry for leaving without saying anything”

12:56 AM - Pope “Still didn’t answer me. Where are you”

12:56 AM - You “I’m home”

12:56 AM - Pope “How? Who? The guy you were talking to?!”

12:57 AM - You “No… Topper… he went to buy ice and dropped me off”

12:57 AM - Pope “Topper? As in Sarah’s ex? tf”

12:57 AM - You “As in Rafe’s friend”

12:57 AM - Pope “Oh…”

12:58 AM - Pope “Something happened again huh?”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m okay, I just need sleep.”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m exhausted, it was a long day”

12:59 AM - Pope “Whatever you need just let me know, fyi I will tell Cleo about this.”

12:59 AM - You “I didn’t expect less”

taglist: @starkeyvhs @oxpogues4lifexo @persiar9 @lenasvoid @angelicameron @purplerose291 @davinashifts333 if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[goldfades]

Please more controversially young gf for sid🫶🏽🫶🏽

you ask, i deliver!! i hope u enjoy<3

You always joked about Sidney’s age.

Always chirped him about his back, his knees, the way he sometimes got up in the morning with a groan like he was a man twice his age. You teased him relentlessly, with little jabs like "Want me to grab your cane, Grandpa?" when he stretched too long after practice.

But when you saw him go down on the ice, nothing was funny.

Nothing at all.

You didn’t even register what had happened at first. One second, he was in the play, moving like he always did—fast, sharp, instinctual—and then the next, he was hit hard along the boards, his body crumbling in a way that was all wrong.

Your heart stopped. Literally stopped. Your breath caught somewhere in your throat, and suddenly, the crowd noise, the commentators, the sounds of skates slicing ice—it all faded into a dull, meaningless blur.

Because he wasn’t getting up.

Your hands clenched around the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles ached. Time felt slow, unbearably so, like you were watching the worst moment of your life play out in slow motion. He was on his knees, then on his side, and there was a trainer already rushing out to him. But he wasn’t moving like he should be.

You felt sick. A tangible, horrible nausea that curled in your stomach and made your whole body feel cold.

Sidney was tough. Tougher than most. He had taken hits before, had gotten back up when no one else could. But this—this wasn’t right.

You barely noticed the people around you. Barely heard the fans murmuring, the worried whispers and sharp intakes of breath, the occasional muttered, "Shit, that looked bad."

All you knew was that your chest felt tight, too tight, like you couldn’t get a full breath in.

And then, finally, finally, he moved.

Slow. Careful. The kind of movement that told you it hurt like hell but he was too stubborn to let anyone see just how bad it was. He pressed his hand to the ice for support, his jaw clenched, his eyes set forward in that focused, determined way you knew so well.

It should have made you feel better. It didn’t.

Because you knew him.

You knew his pain tolerance was stupidly high, that if he wasn’t just popping up and skating back into the play, something was really, really wrong.

You didn’t even think before you moved. The second he was helped off the ice and down the tunnel, you were out of your seat, pushing through the rows, ignoring the way people turned to watch you. You didn’t care. Didn’t care that the cameras might catch you, didn’t care what social media would say, didn’t care about anything except getting to him.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you made your way through the winding hallways of the arena, the path to the medical room too familiar by now. You had done this before, more times than you wanted to admit. But it never got easier.

The second you reached the room, you barely hesitated before pushing the door open.

And there he was.

Sidney sat on the exam table, gear still on, one skate unlaced, his posture stiff like he was bracing for bad news. His head snapped up the moment he saw you, and something in his face softened.

"You’re not supposed to be back here," he said, his voice rough but steady.

"Yeah, well," you exhaled, still trying to calm the pounding in your chest, "try and stop me."

And just like that, whatever resolve you had left crumbled.

You crossed the room in seconds, standing between his knees, your hands finding his face, tilting it up, searching. His helmet had been removed, his hair damp with sweat, his brow creased in quiet frustration.

"You scared the shit out of me," you admitted, your voice quiet, your thumbs tracing lightly over his cheekbones.

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but the pain in his eyes dulled it. "Didn’t mean to."

"You weren’t moving," you whispered. "I thought—I thought—"

Your throat closed up, and Sidney—ever steady, ever calm, even when he was the one hurt—reached for your wrist, grounding you with a squeeze.

"I’m okay," he murmured. "Just sore."

You didn’t believe him, not entirely, but he was looking at you like he needed you to, like he needed you to be steady for him.

So you nodded, exhaling shakily. "I’ll be the judge of that."

He let out a breath of amusement, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "That right?"

"Damn right," you said, shifting so you could press your forehead against his. "Now let me have my dramatic, emotionally charged moment, please."

Sidney huffed a soft laugh, closing his eyes for a second, letting you linger in the quiet. And when he finally spoke again, his voice was low, just for you.

"I’m glad you’re here."

And just like that, the tightness in your chest eased.

Because yeah, the world could speculate all it wanted. People could talk about the age gap, the controversy, the noise. But right now, in this small, fluorescent-lit medical room, none of it mattered.

Because you loved him.

And he loved you.

And at the end of the day, that was the only thing that ever would.

Sidney was not a good patient.

This was something you learned very quickly.

The second the team doctors gave him strict orders to rest, you knew it was only a matter of time before he started pushing it. Because he was Sidney Crosby—one of the most disciplined, regimented, "tough it out and get back on the ice" people to ever exist. He didn’t do rest. Didn’t do sitting still, didn’t do taking it easy.

Which meant you had to be the one to make him.

Lucky for him, you had absolutely no problem being a pain in his ass.

"Sit. Down."

You stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, staring Sidney down as he very slowly tried to get up from the couch. He was still in sweats, fresh from a shower, his damp hair slightly messy in a way that would’ve been distracting if you weren’t so focused on keeping him immobile.

"I was just—"

"—going to sit your ass back down like the doctors told you," you finished for him. "Good call."

Sid exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "I’m fine."

"You have a bruised rib," you reminded him, walking toward him and shoving him back down with one finger on his chest. "Which means no skating, no lifting, no ‘I swear I’m just stretching’—and definitely no trying to prove how tough and manly you are by walking around like a fully functional human when we both know you are not."

He just looked at you, lips twitching, because he was definitely entertained by the way you were talking to him.

"You enjoy this, don’t you?" he asked, voice tinged with amusement.

You scoffed. "Oh, so much." You pointed at him again. "Now stay there while I get your meds."

Sid obeyed, but you could feel his eyes on you as you moved around the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and pulling his painkillers from the cabinet. You turned back to him, shaking two pills into your palm.

"Take these," you ordered, stepping back toward him.

He raised an eyebrow but took the pills from your hand. "I could do this myself, you know."

"Could you, though?" you mused, tilting your head. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re a very injured man who should probably stop arguing with his extremely generous, very beautiful, highly intelligent, and endlessly patient nurse."

Sid let out a slow, amused breath, shaking his head. "Highly patient, huh?"

You handed him the water, watching as he swallowed the meds, and then took the glass back when he was done. "Unbelievably patient," you confirmed. "Practically saintly."

Sid didn’t reply, just watched you with that look—the one where his lips curled slightly, his eyes softened, and you knew, knew, that if he weren’t injured, he’d be pulling you into his lap just to shut you up.

Instead, he settled for reaching out and grabbing your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Thanks for taking care of me."

You shrugged, sitting on the couch next to him, curling up so your legs tucked under you. "Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid."

He hummed, shifting slightly to get comfortable. "Don’t I have trainers for that?"

"Yeah, but I’m meaner," you pointed out. "And I have better hair."

Sid chuckled, tilting his head toward you, his expression easy and fond. "Can’t argue with that."

You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder, being careful not to press against the bruised side of his ribs. "Damn right you can’t."

And despite everything—despite his injury, despite the way you knew he hated being sidelined—Sidney relaxed. Because this? This was what made it all okay.

Even if you were bossy. Even if you were slightly unbearable in full nurse mode.

You were his. And that made every moment—every ridiculous, slightly bitchy, very loving moment—worth it.

[alaia777]

every valentine’s day, without fail, a small note would appear beneath your window, never signed.

for years, you wondered who it could be. you tried everything—staying up late, keeping watch from your window, even sneaking outside in the middle of the night. but every time, you either fell asleep or missed them by seconds. once, you almost caught them. you saw the blur of a figure slipping into the shadows, the edge of a hoodie that looked so familiar. but it was dark, and maybe you were just imagining things.

eventually, you stopped searching. maybe it was easier that way—easier to leave it as a mystery, easier to pretend it didn’t make your heart race.

but still, every year, the notes kept coming.

“hope you smiled today.”

“the stars were extra bright tonight, just like you.”

“i wonder if you ever think about me too.”

you had mentioned it to isagi before, casually bringing it up in conversation. he’d always listen, nodding along, but whenever you tried to actually talk about it, he would steer the conversation elsewhere.

“you think they’ll ever tell me who they are?” you had asked once, twirling the latest note between your fingers.

“maybe,” isagi had shrugged. “or maybe they’re just waiting for the right time.”

“and when’s that?”

“dunno,” he had muttered, suddenly very interested in tying his shoelaces. “probably when they stop being a coward.”

it wasn’t until this year that you finally caught them.

you hadn’t been waiting for them, not this time. you just happened to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling restless. with a sigh, you rolled over, planning to go right back to sleep—until you heard something. the faintest rustling outside your window.

curiosity got the better of you. you sat up, pushed your blankets aside, and tiptoed over to peek out.

and there, standing just outside your window, carefully slipping an envelope beneath the frame—was isagi.

your heart stilled.

he didn’t notice you at first, too focused on making sure the note was perfectly placed. but then he hesitated, as if second-guessing himself. before he could change his mind, you tapped the glass.

his reaction was instant—he stiffened, his whole body going rigid. slowly, he turned his head toward the window, eyes wide, face pale like he’d just been caught committing a crime.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

then, in the most pathetic attempt at playing it cool, isagi very slowly shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, clearing his throat.

“…hey.”

you blinked. “hey?”

his face turned red. “so, uh. crazy coincidence, huh?”

“isagi.”

you stared at him. he stared back, looking like he was debating whether to bolt or dig himself into the ground.

and then, because you couldn’t help it, you started laughing.

he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “shut up.”

but you only laughed harder, leaning against the window frame. “isagi, what the hell—”

“okay, yeah, fine, it’s me!” he blurted, voice rising slightly in panic. “but in my defense, i was gonna tell you! i just—i don’t know, maybe after we were, like, eighty or something.”

you smiled, warmth bubbling in your chest. “so you’ve been writing me love letters for years and just never planned on saying anything?”

his ears went red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “i—listen, it made sense in my head, okay?”

you shook your head, still grinning, as you climbed out your window and stepped onto the cool grass beside him. he looked at you, nervous, shifting on his feet.

“so, uh, are you mad?”

you exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “not even a little.”

his shoulders sagged in relief, and after a beat, he chuckled, soft and a little embarrassed. “so, does this mean i can finally sign the next one with my name?”

you hummed, pretending to think about it before tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling him just a little closer. “we’ll see.”

[pkg4mumtown]

I Bet You Look Good in Pink (On the Dancefloor)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: You panicked and grabbed some poor stranger off the street to be your fake boyfriend to get your mom off your back. What could go wrong?

Content Warnings: Crack, fluff, meet cute, first kiss, first person pov, male reader, fake relationship

A/N: This is pure crack influenced by this guy I saw doing videos walking up to dudes saying “I’m out with my husband, say hi mom” and wanted to explore Hotch reacting to that while Rossi ran amok at the end. That’s it. That’s the fic. Enjoy!

Also available on AO3. I recommend having work skins on if you do, so you can see the social media and text skins.

I was set out on a brisk jog—more of a speed walk, who was I kidding—before work to prepare my mind for the day's stresses. All that went to hell in a handbasket when I felt my phone buzz and my earbuds start playing a jingle, which only meant that my mother was calling me. 

I’d been dodging her calls for weeks knowing she was asking whether or not I was bringing my “boyfriend” to my cousin's wedding. I had made the smart decision to tell my mom I was seeing someone—a total lie—thinking I could make several excuses about his absence and things would be okay, considering I didn’t see my mom as often as I should.

Then, my cousin just had to announce a wedding on short notice. 

I had never wanted someone to call off a wedding so badly in my life. My mother couldn’t resist meddling either and marked me down as having a plus one without consulting me first.

“Patience” and “understanding” were not words I would use to describe my reaction.

I groaned when I saw that it was a video call, too. Sighing heavily, I answered the phone and picked up the pace again, hoping the loud sounds of the city and my huffing and puffing would get her off the phone faster. Knowing her, I wouldn't be so lucky.

“Hey, Mom,” I breathed heavily, my feet pounding on the pavement. 

“Hi, honey, I wanted to talk to you about Vanessa's wedding.”

“Yea? What about it?” I asked nonchalantly barely able to hold in my labored breaths, looking forward rather than at the phone so I didn't trip and eat the pavement.

“You haven't double booked anything have you?” she asked, a wary tone to her voice, expecting me to cancel at the last minute.

“No, Mom. I didn't forget.”

“Then, your boyfriend is coming, right? I think it’s been long enough that I should meet him, sweetie,” she smiled on the other end. 

Honestly, she was right. I had told her about “him” about six months ago, being as vague as possible every time he was brought up.

My brain—on the other hand—had other ideas causing me to immediately panic, not knowing how to respond. If I told her I lied to her and that he wasn’t real or that we “broke up", she would be back to hounding me and trying to set me up with every man she met. If I made another excuse, she would be suspicious. I almost felt bad lying to her, but “getting the hint” was not one of her strong suits.

As my brain warred with itself, I spotted another man running just up ahead dressed in a dark t-shirt, shorts, and plain running shoes. He was slowing down as we approached a crosswalk with flashing red lights indicating that it wasn’t safe to cross. 

This might end up topping my list of idiotic plans, but—

“Yes, Mom. My boyfriend is coming,” I raised my voice slightly as I finally got to the crosswalk where the man was bouncing on his toes to stay warm. 

I noticed the vague glance he shot my way at my voice and presence, but that was the only acknowledgment I received.

He was kind of cute this close-up. His soft dark hair contrasted sharply with his light complexion. He was in his mid to late forties but clearly in excellent shape and by his stone-faced expression, a government worker like many people in this area.

“We’re actually finishing up our run, soon,” I stepped closer to him, meeting his hawk-like eyes with a pleading, pitiful expression. With reflexes I wasn’t aware I possessed, I switched the call to speaker and turned the phone toward him, “Say, ‘hi’, babe!”

The glare he gave me was a mix of incredulous confusion and wariness as he checked his surroundings like he was expecting someone to come out and attack him while I distracted him.

Definitely a government agent, then.

“Um,” he started cautiously. “Who are—"

I hurriedly tapped the mute button on the call, wanting to grab his wrist and plead like a child asking for sweets. I restrained myself, expecting that he would have me face down on the concrete in a second if I did. 

I probably wouldn’t even mind that.

“Hi, sorry,” I quickly spat my name out at him in my haste. “Please, play along. I’ll owe you my entire life, please,” I begged.

Was I being dramatic? Totally. But I was desperate to give her an actual face to get her off of my back.

One last glance around us and he relented, bending somewhat to be level with the phone’s camera. I tapped the mute button again.

“Sorry, Mom, his hearing is a little bad. Babe, say ‘hi’ to my mom,” I raised my voice, positioning myself so I was just in front of him and both of us fit in the frame.

I heard him slowly exhale behind me, then a soft smile spread over his face in the camera preview, “Hello, Ms...”

I felt him smack my back with the back of his hand, making me jump but I murmured her last name out of the corner of my mouth.

“Right, hello,” he smiled again. “I’m age—Aaron. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh, how handsome,” she winked and I felt my soul immediately leave my body. 

How childish would it be to launch my phone into the street right now?

“Yea, um, so—we're—” I started but was interrupted.

“Aaron, sweetheart, I love my son to death but his memory is awful. I hope he told you about his cousin’s wedding. I’d love to meet you there,” she interrupted me.

Aaron’s smile faded somewhat, probably internally panicking as much as I was.

“I should have stayed home,” I heard him murmur under his breath. “Uhm, no, but it’s been a pretty hectic couple of weeks for me, so it’s not entirely his fault,” Aaron covered smoothly, bringing a hand up to my shoulder and stepping closer.

Damn, he was good.

“You poor thing,” she cooed. “Well, I hope you can make it.”

“Of course, I’ll do my best.”

“Oh, and she changed the colors to pastel pink, so I hope that’s not too hard for you to come up with, honey.”

My jaw clenched. Of course, she changed the colors. Luckily, I had a navy blue suit that would go with the only pastel pink shirt I owned.

“I’ll make it work, Mom, thanks.”

I could feel Aaron glaring at me through the video preview, his fingertips digging into my shoulder. Like he was questioning every life choice that landed him in this present moment. 

I reached my hand back, fingers barely grazing the side of his neck as I looked back at him, “I think you have one.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked down to my lips and back to my eyes so quickly I almost missed it, “You would—uh—know better than me.” He sounded unfocused and dazed as he reacted to my movements.

“I think so,” I winked, pressing my lips to his stubbly chin and focusing back on the phone, seeing my mother’s eyes lit up with glee. “Anyway, Mom, I gotta go home and get ready for work. Love you.”

“Okay, have a great week, sweetie, I love you, too! It was nice to meet you, Aaron.”

“You as well,” he smiled, giving her a small wave before the call ended.

My face dropped as soon as the call was over, turning to face Aaron, “I am so sorry for that! I panicked and I’ll admit it was not my finest moment. And I’m especially sorry if that whole thing made you uncomfortable because I’m...you know...and I kissed—yea—uhm...I’m sorry.”

Aaron scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s okay.” He shifted in place, looking at the people passing us rather than me, “I’m actually...bi? Is that the word?”

This man was getting better by the minute.

“Good enough,” I smiled.

The silence stretched between us again. Was it too late to run across the street and away from this silence? I glanced at the light as it turned back to red—the third one we’ve missed now.

“I’m—uh—sorry, too,” he finally said.

“Why?” I asked him, confused, “I trampled all over your morning.”

“I thought you were distracting me to—er—hurt me, rob me, ambush me...” he trailed off, looking just past me.

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up my throat and morphed into a full-bodied laugh, “Honey, please...look at me.”

Aaron’s shocked face slowly cracked, laughing with me finally. His shoulders relaxed a little, not as on edge as he was when I first approached him.

He had a beautiful smile, I was learning.

“What—uh—what day is that wedding?” he finally asked as our laughter settled down.

“Oh, you don’t actually have to go. I can make something up, really,” I waved him off. “I just needed to give her a face to give my claims some validation.”

Aaron shrugged, his arms flailing slightly, “My coworkers tell me I need to get out more, so...”

Oh.

“Well, in that case...” I unlocked my phone and checked the calendar to be absolutely sure lest my mother fry me, “It’s next month. The fifth. You have approximately twenty-five days.”

How was this my life right now?

“My schedule is—well it’s unpredictable, so I’ll let you know?” he cringed a little.

Government agent. Right. No wonder his posture was so good.

“And how were you planning on doing that?” I asked with a smirk.

He froze for a second, brain rebooting, “I was hoping I could get your number, actually,” he laughed shyly, looking down and patting his pockets to locate his phone.

He fumbled with the phone for a second and finally handed it to me. Pursing my lips, I laughed to myself as I typed my name in and put “boyfriend” with a heart in parenthesis before typing my number in. I handed it back to him, seeing the way his face flushed at the name I put in. 

“I’m serious, though, if you can’t or don’t want to just let me know. You’re in no way obligated.”

“Yeah, I will,” he nodded, making a move to continue his journey.

We both crossed the street, him breaking back out into a run and me a brisk-ish stroll as I got my music playing again. I caught him looking back a couple of times, making me wonder if he was challenging me to catch up or making sure I didn’t follow him home. A smile pulled across his face as he saw me start to speed up. As we reached the next intersection, I held my hand up in a wave as I turned left while he continued straight and crossed the street.

-

Aaron POV

Aaron had been understandably wary of the man who approached him that morning. He had a dangerous job and had experienced more than enough trauma for one lifetime. 

He was ambushed. Just not like had expected.

All of a sudden, he was talking to a lady and gently touching a man he didn’t know and—

Uh.

Did he just kiss Aaron?

On his chin, but still.

He wasn't sure if he was conscious at that moment, except for the fire burning on his face.

Aaron made it home and to Quantico in a haze. He sat at his desk, staring at the phone in his hand like it might suddenly burst into flames. A phone number, a name, and an invitation. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It had been hours since the incident, and yet, the warmth of a stranger’s lips on his cheek still lingered like an unresolved case in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was the sheer audacity and absurdity of the encounter or the way he had simply…gone along with it. The sound of the stranger’s voice still echoed—quick, clever, and just a little desperate.

"Babe, say ‘hi’ to my mom."

And Aaron—fucking—Hotchner, a man trained in several facets like terrorism, law, and behavioral analysis, had folded like a damn lawn chair.

Which is why he now found himself in a situation far more dangerous than being ambushed in the middle of a morning run—standing in Penelope Garcia’s office.

Penelope turned in her chair and blinked at him, fingers frozen over her keyboard assessing him.

“Sir,” she said slowly, looking him up and down like he had just walked in wearing a clown wig. He certainly felt like it. “Hi, sir. Hotch. Uh, sir. What… are you doing here? Do we have a case?”

Aaron didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he set a paper down on her desk where he’d written the man’s number and slid it toward her with two fingers. “Can you run this for me?” He cleared his throat. “Unofficially.”

Her eyes flicked from the paper to his face, then back to the paper. Then back to his face.

She gasped, “Oh my God. Is this—” She clapped her hands over her mouth, muffling an excited squeal. “Are you asking for a background on a new lady friend?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding under the pressure, “Garcia.”

“You are.” Her voice was an octave higher, her whole body vibrating with barely contained glee. “Oh, my stars, this is my favorite day—”

“It's not—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that.”

Garcia wiggled her fingers at him. “Oh, no, no, no, sir, you do not get to walk into my office, ask me to dig into some poor lady's entire life, and then pretend like this isn’t about romance.”

Aaron exhaled sharply.

There was no easy way out of this now.

“He approached me this morning,” he admitted. “Called me his boyfriend—to his mother over the phone—and I…played along. His mother invited me to his cousin’s wedding.”

Garcia gawked at Aaron, completely glossing over the fact that Aaron had implied a man. He shouldn’t be surprised that she didn’t care, “You played along?”

He glanced away, embarrassed, “It was—unexpected.”

She pointed at Aaron accusingly. “You liked it.”

“I did not.”

“You so did.”

“Garcia—”

She cackled, typing the number in furoiusly and bringing up several windows, “Well, now I have to know who this mystery man is. I would have never guessed, boss man, but I can't judge a book by it’s cover. Oh, what if he’s a spy? Or an undercover agent? Or—”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a scam artist,” Aaron muttered.

She hummed, making a tsk with her tongue and teeth, “Doubt it. Cute guys don’t run scams, they just break hearts.”

Hotch gave her a flat look, “That’s how you—”

“Not a word,” she held a finger up. “Give me five minutes.”

And just like that, Garcia’s fingers were flying over the keyboard. The glow of her multiple monitors flashed across her face as she scrolled through the man’s life with the skill of a seasoned technical analyst and the enthusiasm of a gossip columnist.

Aaron crossed his arms, exhaling sharply at her wild glee, “Anything?”

“Oh, my dear sir, I have everything.” Garcia’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my God.”

Aaron's posture stiffened, leaning in closer to the screen. Dread filled his stomach at what she could have found, “What?”

“He’s adorable!”

Aaron immediately frowned, he was too old for this shit, “That’s not relevant.”

“Oh, but it is,” Penelope turned one of the monitors slightly so he could see. “Look at this. Your mystery man is a dog dad—and look at this cutie pie of a pup! He posts pictures of her in cute sweaters—sir, he’s a sweater-on-dogs guy.”

Aaron barely glanced at the screen. “And?”

Garcia gasped, “Oh, and? And? That means he has a soft heart, sir. That means he is a man of culture. Also, look at him.”

Hotch did not look at the screen. He refused actually.

Garcia, however, had no such reservations. She clicked on another post. “He hikes! Look at him in the mountains with that perfect lighting—who is taking these pictures, wow? Oh, that’s so unfair. Pretty people should not have good lighting and cute dogs.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, long and slow. “He sure was struggling to catch up to me today.”

“He strolls, sir. Not everyone runs marathons.”

“Garcia.”

She ignored him, clicking another post, “Ooh, he bakes. He’s posted about trying new recipes. There’s a caption—‘Husband material 😏😉’.” She turned to him, eyes wide with revelation. “This is so fate.”

He finally looked at her, doing his best to look unimpressed but he was slowly softening to the man, too, “Fate?”

She pointed at the screen. “Sir, this man makes baked goods, is absolutely adorable, and randomly fake-dated you? That is the universe working in real-time.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had she put so much stress on “you”? He was a catch, too.

“Oh, wait, what’s this?” She clicked on another post and let out yet another squeal, “He dressed up as a cowboy for Halloween. Sir, I swear to you—”

“I’m leaving.”

Garcia lunged forward, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. A playful glare had her releasing him instantly. Still, Garcia looked up at him, eyes twinkling, “He’s precious.”

Aaron sighed, rubbing his temple. “Did you find anything that would suggest he’s dangerous?”

Garcia grinned. “Only to your heart, sir.”

Hotch turned on his heel and left.

Garcia called after him, sing-song, “So, are you going to call him or what?”

Aaron was not going to dignify that with a response. He had just made it to the door when Garcia made more excited yelps and beckoned him back.

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, sir, come back!”

With a sigh, he turned, “Hmm?”

Garcia spun one of the monitors toward him, biting back a grin, “So, uh. You remember when he mentioned a wedding?”

Aaron frowned, “Yes?”

“It’s real,” She clicked on a recent post. It was a screenshot of a text conversation:

Garcia wheezed, “Sir, you are his manifested date.”

Hotch stared at the screen, resisting the urge to chuckle at his ridiculous antics. It was good to know he was actually that awkward online, too.

“…I see. To be fair, he did give me a choice.”

Garcia tilted her head, watching him carefully. “Perfect, you could just text him and say you’re not going. Or—” Her smile turned devious. “You could meet up and—you know—practice before the real thing.”

Aaron gave her a deadpan look.

She beamed.

Without a word, Aaron turned and walked out but sighed, stopping the door from shutting all the way with his hand. He poked his head back in, “Thanks, Penelope.”

MC POV

I honestly, didn’t expect Aaron to text me. It had been about a week since I ran into him. Throughout that time, I hadn’t seen him out and about any other morning. So, I couldn’t tell if he’d been avoiding me, we were completely missing each other, or he was just busy.

I chose to believe he was busy because boy would I not mind seeing him and those perfect hands again.

My thoughts were put at ease when I got a text ten days after I ran into him, smack on a Saturday morning.

I had no idea what to reply as I stared at my phone with a puppy chewing on my sweater sleeves. 

“Mochi, no,” I absentmindedly corrected her. “Daddy needs to think.”

While I thought about a response, I saved his contact to my phone under “Aaron (Mom's Fav)”.

I could practically feel his exasperation through the phone. But I did hope he thought I was somewhat funny, too.

My heart felt like it was ready to jump out of my throat as I read his text. Tonight? Like TONIGHT?

“Mochi, come here, baby. I need support,” I dragged the over-excited puppy into my lap and hugged her to my lap with one hand while the other held my phone. 

What do I even say to that? Deflecting with humor sounded like a safe bet.

Aaron’s address was sent shortly after and I wasn't surprised to see that it was only a couple blocks north of mine in the direction he ran the day we met. I threw my head back on my couch, giddy to see Aaron again. My brain finally caught up with what that meant. I was going to be alone with the man, with only Mochi as a chaperone and she couldn’t care less about who I embarrassed myself in front of. I had nothing to hide behind, no buffer, no screen, no over-excited mother to parry off of. 

Fuck. Why was I like this?

Then I realized I had a lot of work to do and leaped off the couch to make him a study guide. I had pictures of the important people: my parents, siblings, bride and groom, and some assorted aunts and uncles. I wouldn't subject him to memorizing the kids because—let's be honest—they didn't care about the old folks anyway. It wasn’t too long of a list, only about three pages that I printed out to make it easy for him.

Once I had that sorted, I thought about what to bring. Can you go wrong with brownies? Actually...I’m sure you could, but it was the most practiced thing I knew how to make without messing up considering the state of my head.

The time snuck up on me quickly and I frantically took the brownies out of the oven to cool before running to my room to get ready with Mochi hot on my heels. She guarded the shower, attacking my towels and shower mat as I hurriedly washed myself. Doing my best to not trip over her and slip on the slick floor—medical emergencies were not ideal right now—I ran back to my room to towel off and get dressed.

“Ok, little girl, what color are we feeling today?” 

I laid out a couple different collars for her, which she hopped excitedly around and chose one to attack. Lilac it was. 

“Should we match?” she gave me a beady-eyed stare, focused only on gaining possession of the collar again. “You don’t give two shits.”

I fastened the collar around her neck and tugged a matching sweater over her, taking the time to gush over how adorable she looked.

I surprisingly found a passable first-date shirt that sort of matched her and finished getting ready. In my haste, I nearly forgot the small tray of brownies as I fed Mochi and packed a couple of toys to distract her. Nearly screaming, I covered the tray and put it by the door with the other stuff so I wouldn't forget.

I was a wreck the entire drive to Aaron’s. For no reason, too. As much as I teased him, he was right. 

This wasn’t a date. But, he was hot and I was me.

I located his apartment with relative ease and waited nervously outside with an impatient puppy at my side and a glass tray under my arm digging into my ribs. His cheat sheet lay balanced atop the foil. Making a nervous whine in the back of my throat, I finally knocked with my free hand that held Mochi’s leash.

The door swung open, Aaron on the other side with a dish towel over his shoulder in a dark polo. I stared at the skin past the unbuttoned top buttons, completely missing whatever he said to me.

“—need help?” I caught at the end of his sentence.

“Oh, uh, yea sort of,” I winced as I shifted the tray, which he gladly took from me, noticing the paper on top as he ushered me inside and shut the door behind me. 

“You can let her off, it’s fine. I closed all the doors already,” he nodded to where Mochi was eagerly wanting to sniff every surface she could reach.

Wow, he’s perfect.

I unclipped her leash, laughing at the way she made a beeline for Aaron’s jeans, nipping at the material before skittering over to his sofa. I tossed the toys I brought with me to the floor, so she would leave his belongings alone.

“This is...a good look on you,” I smiled nervously, taking in the domesticity of his clothes. My bravado over text completely flew out the window.

“Mm, I was married once upon a time,” He smirked, turning back to the stove.

“Was?”

“Yea, we found out I was married to my work more.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Aaron just shrugged, “It was a long time ago.”

I chewed my lip, desperate to change the topic. My eyes landed on the papers I brough with me.

“Oh! I brought this so we could go over my family.”

I picked up the papers and met him near the stove, leaning against the counter where there was free space he wasn't utilizing. He smiled softly in my direction as he cooked, nodding and stirring.

“Go for it,” he nodded.

I was surprised he wanted to start now while he was busy cooking but went ahead anyway. I would show him the picture, tell him their name and relation, and move on. He listened diligently, repeating names and making sure they were pronounced correctly before moving on. His eyes moved over the pictures like they were calculating and cataloging every little detail of their faces.  He would lean in for a closer look at the pictures, standing much closer and making me stumble over my words. My face would feel like it was on fire.

Aaron didn’t comment on it.

He was weirdly good at it, remembering faces and recalling details from short-term memory.

I wanted to ask how but didn’t want to intrude more than he was allowing me. My big mouth couldn’t be stopped, though. 

“Wh—,” I started, my voice hitching when he moved into my space and grabbed something on the other side of me. His arm wrapped around me, chest scraping mine as he looked at me expectantly to keep talking. “—wh—uhm…hmm,” I raised my eyebrows, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly under his gaze.

He sighed with an amused smile, “You can’t act like this every time I touch you at the wedding, boyfriend.”

I cleared my throat, blinking rapidly, “Act like what?”

Aaron shook his head, adding the item he grabbed and stirring briefly. He gave me a pointed look, “You freeze up and stutter.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You just did.”

Aaron set his large spoon down and crowded my space, “If you’re nervous about being close to me, then you need to get used it.” His hands framed my hips on the counter behind me, “Touch me.”

I nearly choked on my own saliva.

“I—I’m sorry?”

Aaron was unfazed, “If we’re going to sell this, you can’t tense up and shy away every time I stand next to you. So, touch me. Now.”

I stared at him, his brown eyes boring into mine with long lashes framing them. 

He’s so pretty.

I raised my hand up and pressed a finger to his chest. His very firm, very nice chest that stretched the fabric of his polo.

“Not like that,” he sighed, taking my wrist and guiding my hand more firmly to his chest.

Oh.

Brain.exe has stopped working.

I swallowed, pressing my palm more confidently against him and looking just past his head. Aaron tilted his head, purposely catching my gaze again. Picking up my free hand, I rested it on his bicep, where his shirt met his skin. 

“So—uh,” I tried to think at the same time, gently squeezing the muscle and sliding my hand around to the back of his arm. “You have a really good memory.”

“Mhm.”

“Where do you work?” I finally asked.

“For the DOJ,” he answered automatically.

“Got it, top secret,” I laughed.

He dropped his head sheepishly, “Sorry. It’s kind of an automatic answer for people I just met.” 

He lifted his head up, smiling and moving a hand to my lower back. I fought the jump that threatened to move my body and lost, tensing just a little.

“I work for the FBI,” he finished.

“That makes so much more sense,” I laughed, sliding my hand up from his chest to his shoulder.

I licked my lip as his head tilted away from my hand. 

An invitation.

Slowly, my hand made its way to his neck. His eyes fluttered shut as my fingers slipped around the back of his neck while my thumb brushed just below his ear.

“Good,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, helping my confidence just enough since I was no longer under his watchful gaze.

“This is so stupid, why am I nervous? I literally kissed your face on a whim in front of my mother.”

Aaron shrugged, “You tell me.”

Frankly, I did know. I was legitimately attracted to him beyond this whole fake dating bullshit.

He still stared, expecting an answer.

“Oh, you want me to say it out loud?”

“Yea.”

“Well, I—”

“Look at me.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Looking directly at him, I continued, “I think I’m just actually attracted to you and all of my confidence over text goes out the window when that happens. I don’t have anything to hide behind, you know?”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Would be hard to sell if we didn’t find each other attractive.”

Wait. 

We?

Aaron leaned forward.

I held my breath.

His lips touched my cheek, pressing a soft kiss there before straightening up and going back to the food before it burned.

My cheek was on fire.

He found me attractive, too?

Dinner was a little easier, reviewing my family again to make sure things were sticking with him. Mochi had come over at some point to chew on my shoelaces as we talked. Aaron picked her up, having finished his food first, and let her chew on his arm with her little dagger teeth. As soon as I finished, I grabbed his plate and took it to the sink—which he protested.

“You’re babysitting, it’s the least I can do,” I slapped his hand away.

Aaron kept me company instead, leaning against the counter with Mochi in his arms. We diligently went over our backstory, how we met, our first date, etcetera—knowing full well that my mother would ask every single question she could think of. Whether it was meant to be private or public.

Mochi eventually wiggled out of his grasp, running over to one of her toys, snagging it, and doing laps around the couch.

Aaron smiled as he watched her, then turned to take the wet dishes from my hands to dry them. My fingers tingled as his own fingers brushed mine, but I kept my cool and he noticed with a proud nod. 

“See? You’re doing better already.”

I roll my eyes, watching him push off the counter to put the dishes away. I turned the water off, busy drying my hands when I felt two hands come to my hips with Aaron’s breath against my shoulder. His body heat was plastered against my back. I was proud of myself for not tensing up, instead waiting for him to do something while I placed my damp hands over his as his hands met at the front of my hips.

“I’m assuming you know how to dance?” He murmured.

“Yes, I know how to dance at a wedding. I know you’re out of practice and all but this is not how you do that,” I laughed.

“Just making sure you wouldn’t jump,” he muttered, his nose brushing the shell of my ear and his lips skimming the back of my neck.

“I’ve calmed down a little, okay?” I rolled my eyes, turning to face him.

I gripped his upper arms, his arms still wrapped around me, and slid them up his shoulders until they could meet around his neck.

“Can I try something?” I asked.

He seemed to already know, eyes half-lidded and already staring at my mouth, “Go ahead."

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his gently, separating only to come back and press a little harder. Aaron’s hips closed the gap between us, arms pulling me close at the same time.

This had to be heaven.

My hand cupped the back of his head, eagerly bringing him down as my lips parted. The tip of his tongue flicked out at my bottom lip, nearly making me whine in the back of my throat. The friction of our pants did not help in that department.

I pulled back; the kiss having been much briefer than it felt. Aaron’s mouth chased mine, barely able to mutter, “Again,” before his tongue was licking my mouth open.

A moan ripped from my throat as his tongue skimmed the hypersensitive skin of the roof of my mouth. The shiver I fought made me grip him tighter and I had a vague thought about how far he was willing to take this as I felt the unmistakable brush of his hardness against mine. I pulled back, letting my hands drop to his chest to create some space.

His lips were swollen, eyes a little dark, but he was otherwise annoyingly calm. I was flustered, the line between real and fake being blurred so intensely in that moment.

“This might be a problem.”

He didn’t have to look down to know exactly what we both felt, “Only if you make it one.”

I shook my head, smacking his arm and squeezing myself out from between him and counter, “You’re insufferable.”

“You kissed me first,” he followed, stopping to grab two brownies out from the covered tray.

He followed me further down the counter, handing me one of the brownies and watching me with a vaguely amused look. I took a bite just to give myself something to do, staring at the floor and murmuring my thanks.

We just made out. We barely know each other. This is insane.

“You’ve been giving me an out this entire time but It looks like you might need one,” he took a slow bite of his own, clearly in no rush. “You’re thinking too hard about this.”

“You just kissed me stupid, give me a second.”

“You still kissed me first.”

“Are you seriously not letting that go?”

“No.”

He was so fucking smug. I hated and loved it at the same time. It made me want to kiss him again. I shoved the last of the brownie in my mouth, finally meeting his eyes and swallowing thickly.

“So, at the wedding, we’re not kissing like that.”

“Obviously, unless you plan on scarring your family,” he exhaled, sounding like a laugh. He crowded my space again, my brain going into overdrive at his heat and smell. “You specified ‘at the wedding’, which I find interesting.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked down to my mouth, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to my chocolate-flavored lips, then another, and another before pulling back. My eyes were still closed as he spoke, relishing the contrast of his gentle movements versus the intensity of before.

“We act normal. Just like that,” he smiled, grabbing another brownie and bringing it to my mouth.

“You’re way too chill about this,” I scoffed but took it from his hands.

“It’s more fun than I expected,” he shrugged. “Plus...I did mean it.”

I tilted my head questioningly.

“About the attraction. I was cautious of course last week because of my job, but I don’t know. After making sure you weren't a threat…I—” He paused, trying to figure out his next words, “You’re unfortunately magnetic.”

“So, what you’re saying is that my incessant text flirting worked?”

“Only a little,” he joked. “The cowboy outfit was the kicker for me.”

“Oh my God, stop!” I covered my face.

“What I’m saying is,” he laughed, prying my hands away from my face, “if you’re amenable of course—that maybe it doesn't have to be entirely fake.”

I feigned thinking, squinting one eye in thought, “So, this was a first date?”

“I think it was about three dates wrapped in one,” he pursed his lips.

“Well, I don’t put out on the third date, so it might be my time to leave,” I teased.

He just grinned, swooping in and claiming my lips. I decided then that the brownies tasted much better with him.  I kissed him as fervently as I needed air to breathe, gasping as his hips ground softly into mine purposely. 

It felt so good.

So good that by the fourth time it happened, I had to remove myself from him, “I was—mm—I was serious about the third date thing—as-as eager as I might be.”

Aaron nodded in understanding, chest heaving.

“And if you were serious before, I just-I just want to make sure, you know? If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” he smiled down at me, his reddened lips still so inviting but I needed to go before my resolve crashed and burned.

“I should go before it gets out of hand,” I smiled sadly, “but study up and keep those,” I pointed at the brownies. “Take them to work or something.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he cringed a little as he glanced down at the unruly bulge in his jeans. “You’re definitely not freaking out anymore,” he pointed out smugly.

I made some kind of noise. A flustered scoff? Panicked laugh? A dignified, manly squeak? I didn't know but I did know that if I stayed here any longer, we were either ending up in bed or I was leaving with soiled pants.

“Shut up,” I murmured, a smirk playing at my lips. “Mochi, it’s time to go home!” I called the puppy, leaning over and seeing her curled up on top of an afghan thrown over Aaron’s couch. 

I clapped my hands together, her ears perking up as she stretched. Aaron didn't try to stop me as I gathered my belongings, just leaning back against the counter looking completely satisfied with himself. He met me at the door, opening it as I carried the sleepy puppy.

“Drive safe,” he said casually, voice warm and comforting. Before I could walk out completely, his fingers pinched the center of my shirt, guiding me backwards and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. Then obnoxiously, “See you soon, boyfriend.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” I sassed back, running my shoulder straight into the doorframe on my way out.

-

Luckily, they had the shirt in his size and it came in a couple days before the wedding.

I rushed up to his apartment door, fully dressed for the wedding with the pink shirt in hand. The wedding wasn't far from here and it was still an hour before we needed to be there. I knocked frantically on the door, met with a still damp Aaron from the shower. 

"Oh, I could get used to that sight," I commented appreciatively, looking at his bare chest and taking my sunglasses off. 

"Are you sure it wasn't too much?" he asked about the shirt

"Hush, go get ready," I pushed him away by the chest.

He took advantage, tugging my arm to him so I would stumble forward into him. His hands grasped my hips immediately, lips finding mine easily in all the movement. 

"Aaron," I murmured trying to get him moving. "You're wet."

"Mhm," he smiled into the kiss. “Just getting some practice in before showtime.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

He finally let me go and took the shirt, shaking it out and nodding as he felt the material between his fingers.

When he came out of the room fully dressed, my jaw was on the floor looking at his form in a fitted navy suit. We were fucking matching.

"You are feeding my mother, I swear," I laughed. "We look like we're about to take engagement photos."

A satisfied smirk stretched over his face at my admiration. He strode forward but stopped short.

"Where's Mochi?" He frowned.

"Oh, she would cause mayhem. My neighbor is watching her."

"You trust your neighbor with her?"

"You're so perfect," I gushed, wanting to squeeze his face. Cute aggression, I swear. "Out the door, please," I waved him toward the front door.

I didn't know how I convinced him to let me drive, but he luckily backed off as soon as I started ranting about his alpha male need to control everything and that he probably took over driving everywhere at work.

"Just be a good little passenger princess," I settled my hand on his thigh as I took off.

"I don't always drive," he muttered under his breath.

"Somehow, I severely doubt that."

The country club was a short drive, allowing us to arrive fifteen minutes early before the actual wedding ceremony was due to start. We entered the country club, following the signs for the wedding outside. The reception would follow indoors. Several signs along the way instructed guests to turn their phones off, which Aaron hesitated to do.

"Just put it on silent or vibrate. They don't want all the aunties' phones in the photographers shots," I touched his wrist, seeing him contemplate. "If you're on call just do vibrate."

"I'm not technically, I just don't want to miss a call if they do. It's a little unpredictable."

"Whatever you do, do it fast," I wound my arm around his as I spotted my mother among my family.

I heard Aaron clear his throat and shove his phone in his pocket, plastering an award winning smile on his face. 

“Oh, sweetie, you're here!” My mother ran up to me, nearly stumbling in her heels.

“Woah, careful,” I lunged, holding my hands out to catch her but Aaron was faster, grabbing her hands and stopping her forward momentum.

“Aaron, honey, how sweet are you?” she gushed, holding onto his forearms. “It's so nice to finally meet you.”

Aaron and I were dragged around to my family and he—unsurprisingly—remembered all of the information I had fed him. Throughout the ceremony, Aaron had his arm wrapped around me, hand resting on my lower back. It was strange being here with someone after expecting to be here by myself, but as I leaned my head on his shoulder I was glad it was Aaron I picked off the street. He caught me looking at him, giving me a soft smile and kissing my temple.

The ceremony was blissfully short as the afternoon sun started to heat up. I just about dragged Aaron inside after, eager to not sweat through this light-colored shirt. 

The reception started off without a hitch. Aaron offered to drive while I had a few drinks—who was I to decline such an offer—and dancing commenced while we waited for the food.

Aaron begrudgingly danced with my mother—only to slow ones per his request—but he kept his awkwardness at being interrogated hidden well. When it was my turn to dance with my fake boyfriend, I did so happily, not one to complain about being close to Aaron. 

Aaron’s hand was warm on my lower back as we swayed to the music. His thumb brushed small, lazy circles along my spine, and I was very much not immune to it.

"You're suspiciously quiet," I teased, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "Having fun?"

"Something like that," he said, lips twitching in amusement.

"You're thinking about work, aren’t you?"

"No," he replied, then smirked. "I'm thinking about the conversation I just had with your mother."

I groaned, "Oh God. Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Aaron said, but the glint of humor in his eyes gave him away.

I gave his shoulder a light, playful shove. "Tell me."

He hummed, swaying us slightly to the left as another couple passed by. unable to resist, he pressed a quick kiss to my lips and continued speaking, "She asked when we were having kids."

I almost tripped over my own feet. My hand tightened on his bicep as I choked out, "She asked you what?"

"When we were having kids," he repeated, perfectly calm.

My mouth opened and closed, my brain short-circuiting. I finally sputtered out a laugh, "Jesus Christ, she didn't even ease into it?"

"Not even a little," he confirmed.

I tipped my head back with a groan, "Okay, well, the real question is—which one of us is gonna carry the baby to term?"

His lips twitched. "Hmm. Probably you."

"Excuse me?" I gave his shoulder a scandalized smack. "Why me?"

"You've got the instincts for it," Aaron said, voice low and teasing.

I blinked. My jaw dropped, "Did you just insinuate that I'm Mochi's mother? Because she knows damn well I'm her daddy."

Aaron’s shoulders shook with restrained laughter, "I'm just saying. You hover. You told me you checked her paws for three days straight when she yelped after stepping on a leaf."

"That’s called responsible pet ownership, Aaron. She’s just a baby."

"Mhm,” His thumb traced another slow circle against my back, and I absolutely did not shiver. 

Nope, not at all.

We were both grinning like idiots when my mom passed by again, shooting us a look that said: You’re next.

Aaron leaned closer, voice low in my ear, "She seemed pretty convinced we're soulmates."

"Oh God. We are never gonna live this down."

"Probably not," he agreed.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I really am," he murmured, then kissed my temple.

I rested my forehead on his chest, laughing so hard I almost missed his hand tightening just slightly on my waist.

It was inevitable that I would have to run to the bathroom after several alcoholic beverages. I swayed slightly as I washed my hands, grinning at my own reflection. My face was warm, appearance slightly disheveled from dancing with Aaron, and my smile wouldn't go away—not that I wanted it to. I’d spent the better part of the afternoon glued to Aaron’s side while my family peppered him with questions. He’d taken it like a champ, even dancing with some of my aunts before my mother would steal him back, all while keeping his arm casually draped around me like we’d done this a million times.

Honestly, he was too good at this. I was beginning to suspect he actually enjoyed the chaos. 

As I stepped back into the reception hall, the music thumped under my feet, mingling with the sound of clinking glasses and laughter. I scanned the crowd for Aaron’s broad shoulders, but before I could find him, my mom’s voice sliced through the noise.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you taking my son’s boyfriend?"

My heart just about stopped, what the fuck?

I turned toward the commotion and froze. Across the room, Aaron stood stiffly near the entrance with a vaguely exasperated expression, one I saw a handful of times on our date. My mother had one hand on her hip, the other gesturing toward a very well-dressed group of strangers attempting to pull Aaron toward the door.

"Ma'am," the oldest of the group spoke to my mother, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I assure you, we come in peace."

"You're not answering the question," my mom snapped.

Oh, mom. 

"He’s my ex," the man blurted out without missing a beat. His voice dropped into something heavier, "And I’ve come to win him back."

The entire room went silent. I swore someone actually gasped.

Aaron’s jaw twitched as his eyes found mine across the room. He looked annoyed, amused, and frustrated all at the same time.

"Your...ex?" my mom repeated, voice pitched with disbelief.

The man sighed, bowing his head like he was carrying the weight of an old, familiar pain. 

"Yes. We were once...so much more," He lifted his eyes to the ceiling with a wistful expression, voice trembling just enough to sound authentic. "I gave him my heart, but he belonged to the world. And now, seeing him here..." He placed a hand over his chest. "It's like I’ve been wandering through a desert of loneliness only to find an oasis I no longer deserve."

Someone near me whispered, "That’s so beautiful."

My mom’s jaw slackened. "I...I don’t know what to say."

He continued, "Sometimes, the greatest act of love is letting go." He cast a mournful glance toward Aaron, "Even if it means watching the only man who ever understood me walk away with someone else." 

A sniffle echoed from the corner. I glanced over and saw my cousin Vanessa—the bride—dabbing her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

I nearly fell over at the absurdity of it all.

"And these people?" my mom asked, voice cracking slightly as she gestured to the rest of the group.

The youngest man in the group awkwardly rose his hand, "We're, um..."

“We were in an polyamorous relationship—with Aaron,” a dark-haired woman spoke up. 

A fit man with a shadow of a beard—damn he was hot, too—hid a laugh behind his hand while hiding his face behind the dark-haired woman. 

My mother did not look impressed.

Meanwhile, Aaron stood there like a hostage, shoulders rigid and lips pressed into a thin line. I knew that look—he wore it when I ambushed him on the street—his I am using every ounce of my patience right now face.

I made my way toward the group just as my mom turned back to the older man.

"Listen here, buddy," she snapped, poking him in the chest. "I don’t care how much you still love him. He’s here with my son, and you’re not going to ruin this by dragging him off for some last-ditch romantic gesture."

Rossi gave her a deeply sympathetic look, "I—we just want to beg for another chance, ma'am."

The crowd melted.

Someone whispered, "That’s love."

Another person sobbed openly into their champagne flute.

By the time I reached Aaron's side, the tension had shifted. My mom was still skeptical, but several of my cousins were openly swooning at the spectacle.

I gave the crowd a tense smile as I approached, resting my hand on Aaron's upper arm and leaning in to his ear and whispering, “What the fuck is going on?”

The older man gave me a nod, lowering his voice, "We hate to break up the party, kid, but we need Aaron. Urgent case."

"Right," I said, suddenly more sober. He was needed, I could text him later.

The team ushered Aaron through the door to the sound of faint applause from the wedding guests.

I stood there, shaking my head at what the hell just transpired.

My mother actually wiped her eyes and sighed, "I'm so sorry, honey, I tried to stop them. I didn't realize he had so many partners before you.”

“Mom, those were his coworkers picking him up for an urgent issue.”

"Oh, sweetie," she said, patting my cheek. "You just don’t understand modern relationships. 

Later that night I was sprawled over my couch, my mother having driven me home as I had a few more drinks to make up for Aaron’s absence. My guest room was prepared ahead of time, thankfully. 

I groaned, loosening my belt lazily, still in my suit. I had gotten Mochi from my neighbor, needing my baby to ease the sing of Aaron’s depsrture. She lay across my lap, belly-up and snoring. My mom sat in my recliner, a glass of wine in hand now that she could decompress from the wedding.

“It was such a beautiful day,” she mused. “Until Aaron didn’t come back after that discussion with his exes,” she grumbled.

“Mom…” I groaned into a pillow. “Mom, they’re not his exes, they’re his team at work. They were messing with you.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not sounding the slightest bit convinced.

The TV hummed in the background, low enough for us to ignore until I heard a familiar voice break through our conversation.

“…we were able to quickly apprehend the suspect and bring an end to these tragic events."

My mom gasped, leaning forward, "Oh, honey! Isn't that Aaron?"

I sat up so fast Mochi nearly flopped off my lap, and sure enough—there he was on the news, standing in front of a sheriff’s station with a microphone in his face. Same pink shirt. Same navy suit. Same faintly irritated expression.

"I told you he was working," I muttered, running a hand down my face. “All of a sudden you love him again,” I rolled my eyes.

"—ultimately, the case was resolved after it was determined that the suspect was, in fact, the sheriff," Aaron said, voice monotone and precise. "He left his own boot prints at three of the crime scenes and, when confronted, confessed almost immediately."

There was an awkward pause as reporters scribbled notes.

"Wait," one asked, "so it...was just the sheriff the whole time?"

"Yes," Aaron said.

"And he...admitted it right away?"

"Yes," Aaron repeated, slower this time. His jaw twitched in annoyance.

"So," the reporter pressed, "you flew in from Quantico...for that?"

The muscle in Aaron’s jaw jumped again, "Yes."

I barked out a laugh.

The camera zoomed out as Aaron stepped away from the microphones. His team followed closely behind, the blonde agent talking with the older agent animatedly. The last shot before the feed was cut off was Aaron rubbing his temples.

I shook my head and stood, scooping Mochi up under one arm, "I'm going to bed."

"Tell Aaron I said ‘hi’ next time you talk to him!"

"Mm-hmm." I carried Mochi toward my bedroom, but halfway there, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I smiled, tucking my phone away again and held Mochi tighter. 

I called back down the hallway, “Aaron says ‘hi’.”

“What a sweetheart. I really do like him, honey,” she called back.

“Yeah, me, too, Mom.”

[ihearteatingxo]

Can’t Keep My Eyes Off You…

Ship: enhypen!Jay x fem!reader

Summary: y/n secretly watches Jay play guitar and he answers the infamous question. Do guitarist finger faster?

Side Notes: In this situation Jay is y/n’s roommate. (This is my first fic! Hope you enjoy!)

Y/n sat in her room, studying, listening to the soft music that ran through the apartment. She set her pen down and walked down the hallway, stopping right in front of her roommate’s door. She cracked the door slightly and saw him…

Jay sat at his desk, shiny red guitar in hand, he gently strummed. His long fingers touching each string with precise movements. Y/n stared intensely, she couldn’t help but feel a certain way- “What are you thinking!?” She internally scolds herself but a voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Come in.”

“W-what..?”

Jay looked over at her, she instantly felt shy, “Do you plan on standing there the whole time?”

She reluctantly stepped inside and sat on the edge of his bed. Y/n gazed at the way his fingers caressed every string, “I wish that was me-“ Y/n thought. She clenched her thighs together, feeling the heat pool between her legs.

“Y’know I can feel you staring-“

“Sorry..” She fidgeted with her fingers, “Uhm, so how long have you been playing?”

He looked up at her before going back to strumming, “A few years.”

Y/n’s Pov

I tried to lighten the mood, he’s usually so cold. I thought a joke would help, but I was so nervous, the wrong thing slipped out.

“Y’know what they say about guitarist..?” I chuckled awkwardly, “S-sorry, that was stupid-“

“Tell me, what do they say about guitarist?” Jay put the guitar back on its stand and turned to face me.

“T-they finger f-faster..?” I stuttered unable to look him in the eye, he suddenly stood in front of me, holding my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Do you wanna find out?

…

Next thing I knew, I was lying on his bed, completely naked as he hovered over me.

“Jay! I’m not done studying, m-maybe we could come back to this later-“

“You’re the one who asked the question, I’m just helping you answer it.”

He held my legs open, “Just relax for me…” Jay rubbed his index finger up and down my slit.

“So wet…” He muttered as he leaned over to kiss me. I squirmed under his touch and kissed back.

Jay rubbed his middle finger in circles around my clit. “A-ah~ Jay!” I wailed.

He kissed me again “Shhh, don’t want the neighbors to hear, do you?”

Jay slipped his middle finger into my wet hole and held my legs apart with his other hand. He pushed his finger into and out, the sound of wet squelching and my high pitched moans filled the room. He added another finger and thrusted them faster, “J-Jay, I-I’m gonna~” He kissed me again “Cum for me beautiful.”

I saw white, I arched my back in ecstasy as I moaned loudly in Jay’s ear. My wetness spread across his fingers and landed on the bed.

I squealed when he continued fingering my tired hole, “Wait! I can’t- it’s too much!”

“Just gimme one more… please?” I was tired but with the look on his face, his dark eyes and scrunched eyebrows, I would do anything he told me to.

Jay slammed his fingers into me, adding a third, I was starting to see stars.

“Jay~” I moaned his name as I squirted all over, wetting his bed.

I looked up at Jay as he slowly pulled his fingers out, realizing I got it on him, “Sorry I got your shirt wet…” He raised an eyebrow at me, “A-and your bed…” I blushed.

“Don’t worry about it, but did you get your answer..?”

“Huh? W-what-?”

“Do guitarist finger faster…?”

Definitely.

Writer’s Note: This is my first fanfic, I hope you guys like it! Please give me any feedback OR any writing prompts

💗🌸💞

[secretl1fe0fm3]

maroon pt. 2 ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

“the mark they saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips i used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon.”

warnings: smut, angst, fighting, dom!billie, sub!reader, eating out, fingering, choking, dirty talk, hate sex, happy (ish) ending

18+ minors dni!!!

2.2k words

part one

Two months, It has been two months since that unforgettable night with Billie.

Before you had left that next morning, she had asked you for your phone number to keep in touch. You gave it to her without hesitation, and she had promised she would message you.

Radio silence. Nothing. Not a single message.

After a month, you had accepted that it was just a one-time hookup, and attempted to put your feelings aside. You tried not to let it get to you. She had been the one to initiate everything that night you first met, and you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. So you tried to move on, but you couldn’t stop thinking about her, and it didn’t help that she was everywhere.

And it also didn’t help that she was at your friends birthday party tonight.

Sitting in the corner on the couch, you sip your drink slowly, eyes narrowing as you watch Billie converse with everyone. The fact that she was even here had baffled you, and as soon as you had heard her voice when she walked in, you knew it was going to be a long night.

You stood up from your spot and walked over to the kitchen, opting for a whole bottle of wine, gripping it tightly between your fingers. Your friend sees you and smiles, calling out your name and motioning for you to come talk with her. Your eyes flicker around the group she’s standing with, noticing Billie, and your jaw clenches. Fuck it.

Walking over to them, your hands slightly shake from the tight grip on the bottle of wine.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Your friend squeals drunkenly, putting her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her side. A smile falls on your face momentarily, genuinely happy to be able to spend her birthday with her.

She smiles big as she introduces you to everyone in the group you’re now standing with. Billie’s eyes bore into yours, a small smirk evident on her face as she glances down at the bottle of wine you’re holding.

After a few minutes of small talk amongst everyone, the group slowly disperses, leaving just you and Billie standing there. Your eyes meet again, and a sinking feeling washes over you as you bring the bottle of wine up to your lips, taking a big sip.

“A whole bottle, really?” Billie laughs out, teasing you, but you don’t find it amusing.

“Why the fuck are you here?” You grit out, ignoring her comment.

Billie’s eyes study your face, almost as if she’s shocked at your outburst. “Looks like we have a mutual friend, small world, huh?” She grins, keeping her eyes locked on yours. You furrow your brows and glare at her.

“You never messaged me.” Your own words throw you off, not even thinking before they fall from your lips.

Her smile fades almost instantly, and she bites her lip hard, contemplating how to respond to you. You frown at her as you bring the bottle up to your lips, taking another sip.

Billie opens her mouth, about to respond to your comment, but you put your hand up, not wanting to hear what she has to say.

“Save it. You’ve had two months, two fucking months to message me, reach out, say fucking anything for all I care.” Your anger is boiling inside of you now, the wine giving you the courage to finally call her out. "And frankly, I don’t want to hear whatever sorry excuse you have. You can’t just come to this party and try to talk to me like we’re fucking cool, because we are not.” Your words continue to spew out, unable to stop them as they come.

Billie’s blue eyes flicker over your face, her mouth still slightly agape. She looks around, noticing a few people staring, watching the both of you closely. Your outburst not going unnoticed over the loud music.

"Fuck you." You spit out, your breathing heavy as you turn around on your heels, storming down the hallway into a random room, closing the door behind you.

Your back hits the door, and you take another swig of the wine, the bottle shaking in your hands. The loud music is now muffled as you try to calm yourself down. Your breathing finally evens out after a few moments, and you step away from the door, taking a seat on a chaise lounge. You set the bottle down on the small table next to you as your thoughts run wild. Were you too harsh? Did she deserve your outburst? Maybe it was all a misunderstanding?

A gentle yet firm knock breaks you from your thoughts as you look up at the door. Your eyes land on Billie as she walks into the room, closing the door behind her and locking it. You sit up straighter, clearing your throat quietly.

Billie keeps her gaze on you, her eyes narrowing as she walks over to you. You pull your lip between your teeth at her stern look, the familiar heat pooling in your belly.

"Im sor-" You start to apologize, but Billie cuts you off, reaching out to grip onto your chin, staring down at you with a look you can't quite distinguish.

"We could've handled this in private, and not make a scene at our friend’s birthday, you know," she sneered, her whole demeanor shifting as she continued to speak. "But you got my attention now, and you're going to regret it, pretty girl." Her hand moved down from your chin to wrap around your neck, squeezing softly.

A small smirk spreads across your face as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of her grip on your neck. You feel Billie lean in closer, her breath fanning across your face. "You remember what I said last time?" she whispered into your ear.

Next time, you're gonna use this pretty mouth to eat me out, yeah?

A shiver ran down your spine, remembering the words she had uttered that night, her strap deep inside you. You clenched down around nothing at the thought, your core burning with need.

"Billie.." You choke out, swallowing against her grip.

“Gonna use that mouth to eat me out instead of bitching. How’s that sound?” Her voice is low, nibbling on the shell of your ear.

You nod desperately, and she releases her grip on your neck and pulls you up off the lounge. She gives you a knowing look, and you quickly shed yourself of your clothes, stripping to nothing but your lace underwear. Billie follows after you, her eyes never leaving yours as she pulls her baggy jeans down, pulling her shirt up over her head, and chucking it somewhere in the room.

Staring up at her with big eyes, you drop down to your knees as she sits where you previously were. Her legs spread as you position yourself between them. She looks down at you with hooded eyes, nodding, giving you silent permission to continue.

You reach out, hooking your hands under her thighs, pulling her core closer to your mouth. Your tongue meets her heat, and you place a small kiss on her clit.

Billie lets out a groan at the feeling, her hands coming down to tangle in your hair, pushing your head down against her. Your tongue laps at her wetness, sucking eagerly on her clit.

Her grip on your scalp tightens as she throws her head back, moaning softly. You continue to eat her out, burying your face in her heat as she lets out strings of grunts and profanities.

“Fuck, baby.” She yanks your head off her core. You whine as you’re pulled away, your lips red and soaked with her juices. Billie smirks and leans down, kissing you to get a taste of herself on your lips. You groan against her lips as she pulls your hair harshly, her other hand moving to grip your neck again.

“You’re so desperate for me, and to think you were mad at me, hmm? You’re fucking pathetic. You would do anything I told you to do, yeah?” Billie’s tone is cruel and condescending, her hand tightening around your neck. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a high-pitched whine filling the dark and empty room.

Billie pushes your head down again, and you focus your attention solely on her clit this time. You flick your tongue rapidly over her sweet spot, sucking every so often. Her moans fill your ears, only urging you on more. You were desperate to get her to finish.

You felt Billie tense up under you, her hips jerking slightly as her orgasm started to build up. Your tongue ran up and down her folds, as your nose rubbed against her clit. You moved up and pulled her sensitive nub into your mouth, nibbling gently before sucking feverishly.

Billie grunts out as her climax hits her hard. Her fingers grip your hair, keeping your head in place as she rides out her orgasm. You continue to lick and suck at her wet heat, helping her through it.

Her heavy breathing is the only sound you can hear as you pull your face out of her core, her hand still laced in your locks. You lick your lips as you look up at her with blown pupils.

She yanks at your hair again, pulling you up onto her lap. Her hand leaves your hair as it trails down your body, gripping your hip tight.

“Such a good girl for me,” Billie mutters, her thumb brushing against your lip, smudging your lipstick even more. Her hand on your hip moves down to your lace underwear, tugging them to the side. She rubs her fingers up and down your soaked heat. “So wet for me, baby.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of her rubbing at your slit, spreading your legs even more for her. She slips two fingers in, her thumb focusing on your clit, rubbing small circles.

“More, please…” You whisper, rocking against her fingers. Billie smirks as you beg her, her other hand moving back to your neck.

“Louder,” she demanded, her fingers speeding up, fucking into you quickly.

You let out a loud, desperate whine, “Fuck, please Billie, wanna cum, please!”

She grins at your pleading, her fingers not slowing. You grind down as she thrusts them deep inside you, curling up and hitting your spot repeatedly. Her thumb continues to rub at your clit, speeding up with the movement of her other fingers inside you.

Her hand grips your throat, effectively choking you as she continues to fuck you with her fingers roughly. You throw your head back in a silent moan, pushing down against her fingers hard, chasing your own orgasm.

Billie notices you’re close, her movements speeding up even more as you clench around her. Your hand flies out to grip onto her wrist that’s holding onto your throat, your body shaking with need.

Her fingers curl up inside you, hitting your sweet spot for a final time as you fall apart. Your hips quiver as you feel your climax hit you, moaning out as she releases her grip on your neck. Billie’s movements slow as your body comes down from its high, your chest rising and falling quickly as you try to catch your breath.

You fall forward against her as she slowly slips her fingers out of you. She brings her fingers up to your mouth, pushing them past your lips. You hum as you suck, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of your own orgasm.

Billie grins at you and pulls her fingers out of your mouth. “You did so well for me.” She murmurs, pulling you closer to her body. Her arms wrap around you. Your body relaxes against hers, your anger a long-lost thought now.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into her shoulder, regretful of having yelled at her earlier.

“It’s okay, you had every right to be upset. I shouldn’t have ghosted you like that. Life got crazy, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I truly never meant to hurt you. Im sorry.” She mumbled, her fingers running through your hair.

You pull back at her words, eyes meeting hers, and a small smile falls on your face. Reaching out, you place your hand on her cheek, cradling it and rubbing gently. Her cheeks heat up at the gentle touch, nudging her face against your hand.

“You’re forgiven.” You laugh lightly, leaning down to kiss her gently.

Billie grins into the kiss before she feels you pull back, reaching out for the bottle of wine you had set on the table beside you earlier.

“You and that fucking wine.” She shakes her head, teasing you, as her hands fall back on your hips, squeezing.

You giggle as you take a sip, accidentally letting some dribble down your chin and onto your chest. Billie watches as the deep red color drips down, her finger reaching out to wipe it away. She grins at you and brings it up to her lips, licking the wine off the pad of her finger.

“Sweet.” she comments, and a dark blush creeps up onto your cheeks. The familiar color was so scarlet, it was maroon.

my masterlist

requests are open!! <3

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

ygh sorry if this is weird I just cant get it out of my head

imagine its like readers first time giving a bj EVER and shes w Dave and he's able to get her on her knees and guides her to take itout and put it in her mouth and hes justt cooing at her bc of how she looks w it in her mouth and it starts of gentle but it eventually turns into him fucking her throat

i NEED to suck him off oml

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), face fucking, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

“It’s just a blow job, you’re not gonna die.” He groaned, crossing his arms and falling back onto your bed.

“You don’t know that.” You mumbled, resting your head on your knees. Dave rolled his eyes.

He’d been with a few girls before you, tall, strong, guitarist, you didn’t even have to ask. But you had, months ago, and the number still weighed on you.

Dave assured you he didn’t care who you’d been with but when you told him your nothing number, a lightbulb went off in his head.

He would be your first everything and he’d get to show you everything, and even if he fucked everything up, like he always did, you’d never be able to say he wasn’t special.

“I do know that, because no one’s ever died sucking dick.”

You glanced back at him. “There was Beth from just down the street.”

“She got stabbed, it had nothing to do with the blow job.” You chewed your cheek, turning your head back forward.

Dave sat up, taking your chin in his fingers and turning your head back to him. “If you really don’t want to I’m not forcing you, but there’s really nothing to worry about.” God, why did he have to look at you with those eyes, those pretty plush lips.

You closed the gap between you, Dave was quick to return the kiss, hand moving from your chin to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

There was a heat to a it, a passion you couldn’t place until Dave was on top of you, grinding against your leg as he’d done time and time again. It’s usually how he’d wined up asking for sex, which you’d always decline. You didn’t want to say no anymore.

You gently pushed him off of you, though he kept leaning in for last kisses. “I-I’ll do it.” You said.

Dave’s brows raised. “You-you’ll do it? You don’t, uh, you don’t have to, really.” He didn’t want you doing anything you didn’t want to, if it was your first time it would be your choice.

“No, I want to.” You said, giving a definite nod. Well, now, he wasn’t going to say no to that.

He moved to the edge of the bed, taking a pillow and tossing it on the ground for you to kneel on. “It’s good? It doesn’t hurt?” He asked, cupping your cheek in his hand.

You leaned into his touch and shook your head. “Pillows good, doesn’t hurt.” Dave inhaled deeply and gave a small nod.

“Alright, well.” He said, thinking of what to do next. “Take it out.” He said, voice dropping significantly.

You felt your cheeks heat and hesitantly reached up for undo his jeans, first tackling his bullet belt. You saw his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, eyes widening at size of it.

Dave smiled down at you, admiring your expressions. “Take it out, sweetheart.” He repeated, guiding your hand to the waistband of his boxers.

You swallowed thickly and nodded, slipping your fingertips into the band and tugging it away from him, letting his hard-on spring free. You stared wide eyed and slack jawed, you’d never seen one, not up close and personal anyway, but you were sure that was too big.

Dave chuckled lowly, hand shaking behind your head again and pulling you closer. “Open up, sweetheart.” He mused. Your eyes flicked up at him, seeing the care in his own was warming, how gentle his touches were, it eased your worries.

You opened your mouth and let him guide himself past your lips. “Watch your teeth, try moving your head.” Your brows furrowed as you started bobbing your head, gagging when he hit the back of your throat.

He groaned when you gagged, loving the sound. He had to stop himself from pushing you down further just to hear it again, needing to remind himself that you were new to this and he needed to be gentle.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart, just a little more, can you do that?” He encouraged, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

Your eyes screwed shut and you forced your head closer to him, your nose buried in his fiery bush. You choked on him but he held you still, staring down at you in awe.

You looked up at him, eyes filled with tears. “You’re such a pretty girl.” He cooed, letting go of your head and letting you pull away. You coughed into your arm, wiping at your mouth. “How was that?”

“That’s what you wanted?” You asked between coughing fits.

Dave shrugged, running his fingers through your hair. “Yeah, feels good.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t have much time to recuperate before he was pushing himself back down your throat.

You were gagging and choking, looking up at him with pleading eyes but he held you there. “Be a good girl, just let me do it for you.” While that seemed all fine and good him thrusting into your mouth didn’t. Your only prize was hearing the sounds he made, though even that was overshadowed by the sting.

Drool slipped out the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. Tears stung in your eyes, rolling down your red cheeks.

His head rolled back, a low groan leaving him. His dick was pulsing down your throat. “Fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart, so, so good- oh fuck.” His hold on your hair tightened and he moved you himself, meeting your lips with his thrusts, going after and losing his rhythm.

Hot strings of cum shot down your throat, you swore you saw his eyes cross while his hips jerked.

He slowly pulled out of you and fell back onto your bed again, wiping the sweat from his forehead. You were coughing and gasping for air, clawing at his thigh for no other reason than payback. Dave didn’t flinch but when he could he sat up again and pulled you to your feet before pulling you into his lap.

“It wasn’t that bad.” He said, kissing your cheek. “I’m sorry though.” You swatted at him, still coughing.

“Asshole.” You sputtered.

A knock came to your door and Dave’s head snapped to the sound. “Who’s that?”

“I forgot to tell you?” He looked back to you, a panicked look taking over his face. He hadn’t made any attempt to quiet himself, moaning and groaning at the sensations you were making him feel. “My dads home.”