#i screamed when i saw you sent the link

[lovetei]

Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call

Versions: The Brothers, Side characters

Warnings: Gender neutral pronouns for MC, Cussing, Slight yandere themes (Belphegor, Asmodeus)

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

This demon likes sticking to rules

Running on hallways? Detention

Eating during class? Detention

Not paying attention to class? Detention

No one is safe...

Except for one person.

The cafeteria if filled with loud noises, your voice shouting profanities to another demon specifically.

Everyone listening to the argument feels like they're stomach is about to burst out of nervousness because "What if Lucifer randomly comes in and put all of us is detention because we just stood by and didn't do anything to stop the fight?!"

And he did.

But what surprised them is that he didn't shout or anything, he just stood there for a few second and scanned the crowd looking for one of his brothers.

Spotted Mammon and came close to him before whispering something among themselves.

And then he just stood there

Doing nothing

As if it's just fucking okay to let a human, the exchange student at that, to scream and curse a demon because he won't cooperate into this project.

And when the demon started cursing back at you, the rules are suddenly so strict as if cussing will cause the end of the 8 rings of hell.

The demon is sent to detention, removed from the group, suspended, and many more.

And who knows? Maybe you pulled just a few strings to have that demon expelled.

But what the citizens sure know is that they never saw anyone again after talking to MC like that.

MAMMON

It was cute

Mammon would do anything for you, no matter how big or small it is.

One day, Mammon was spotted running around the halls of RAD.

Looking like he's getting chased by Lucifer, again.

But surprisingly, he's not.

He's just running around the school fetching your fan, notebooks, bag, pens, water or some snacks.

One time, you two were put in a group for this project and were talking about it with your other group mates.

Then you hit him with a "Mammon, I left my notebook on my desk in the potions class, can you fetch it for me?"

With just a blink of an eye, Mammon who was leaning on your shoulder just a few minutes ago is gone.

And with another blink of an eye he's there again with your notebook on his hands then he's back to leaning on your shoulder again as if he didn't just go to the other side of the school for a notebook.

LEVIATHAN

He's introverted

He won't go out his room if it's just for some lame party

I also headcanons for him to be the most unseen brother

Or like him having the smallest amount of photo and information online because he just won't go out.

Yeah, he won't go out if it's just some small, lame party but if Diavolo hosts it, what exactly can he do?

"Do you think the avatar of envy will attend this party?"

"Ha! No way... Lord Leviathan won't attend small parties or gatherings like these unless Lord Diavolo hosts it himself."

"Lord Leviathan really has a high standard when it comes to gatherings..."

And then poof

He's there

Beside you

A happy go lucky sheep beside a gloomy snake

What a match

And if you ask him why he would attend such gatherings when it's totally not even his style he would just go like "MC."

"What can I do? MC really wants to see the fireworks display."

"MC wants me to escort them."

So they got the hint on how to make Levi attend gatherings, either have Diavolo host it or invite MC too.

SATAN

He's angry

But not angry enough to yell when MC is around

Man's can go from 👹 to ☺️ real quick as soon as he felt MC's prescense

He doesn't know why too, but whenever he yell while you're around he thinks he'll fall out of favor

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU'RE SO PERFECT THEN WHY DON'T YOU GO AROUND WHILE YOU HAVE YOUR HEAD FAR UP YOUR ASS- Oh, Hi MC? How are you?"

He'll talk so sweet in front you and then when you turn around you can see some veins popping out of his neck and forehead.

And if he can't really handle it and went berserk in your prescense another scary yet amazing thing you can is to put your hand on his body.

Shoulder, head, neck, wrist, arm, wherever it is.

Just pat him or link your arms with him and he will start to calm down.

ASMODEUS

People headcanon him to like it when you're obsessed with him but I think he's more obsessed to you.

Like he's down bad

You can do anything and he'll literally fawn all over it

"Look at the way they run their hands through their hair!"

"Look at how they work!"

"The way they hold that fork is so graceful~"

Literally, you're the only person that comes to his mind when someone said pretty

Except for himself of course

But I swear, whenever someone caught him staring at you the atmosphere gets so thick

You don't even know why but the atmosphere is heavy and the air suddenly smells so sweet

And those heart in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate

Yeah, you have this man worshipping you alongside himself

BEELZEBUB

Other than the fact that he's actually willing to share his food with you

He's willing to help you in any physical works

Like lifting up things, carrying your stuffs and sometimes even running errands for you

I mean, he actually doesn't do it a lot because Lucifer actually asks Mammon for this stuff because the things Lucifer needs to be done is a little...

Shady?

And he doesn't want to taint Beel's innocence.

So now since you're already a part of the student council when Lucifer needs to have something important finished but it requires physical work.

You and Beel will be partnered

And he doesn't have anything against it either

He likes it so much when you command him to do something actually

I mean, he's tall and buff but Lucifer won't ask him to do anything that includes hard labor except taking care of Belphegor

So you actually helping him make use of all those muscles made him feel a tinge of happiness

He feels like he's actually of use :)

BELPHEGOR

This little brat

He would kill for you and he means it

He's not scared to spill blood on broad daylight as long as it's for you

Someone bothered you? Dead

Oh this person annoyed you? Taken care of

Aw~ He told you you're cute and asked you out on a date? That's sweet! Dead.

He's just like that

He won't tolerate anyone who dared disrespect you

And Lucifer won't even put a stop into this

"I mean, Devildom is quite overpopulated and we don't want anyone disrespecting Lord Diavolo's plan on bringing the three realms together now." Is what he reasons everytime.

Oh, he also wakes up on command as long as it's you.

Lucifer and his brothers could be shaking him like he's dead and he won't even bother to open his eyes

But if you just pulled a "Belphie? Good morning..." Oh dear, he's wide awake and clinging to you.

[messenger-of-babel]

Reborn

Summary: Jason did what he swore he'd never curse upon anyone. It just so happened to be you he cursed in the process.

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes: Character death, greivous injury, language. I was actually so happy writing this one, I was thinking I was going to struggle with the prompt but it actually came to me with a lot less struggle than I was expecting. I'm a big Jason girlie so maybe this had a trace of self indulgence in there.

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"Hurry the fuck up!" Jason yells at Tim, hands pressed on the centre of your chest, blood trickling through his fingers. He hates the way the warm liquid seeps into the fabric of his gloves, sticky and wet.

"I'm trying the best I can," Tim grits back out, relaying something through their coms line while he runs to your side, dropping to his knees beside your body in the car wreckage. "Holy…" he breathes out, eyes flicking over your form in concern. Your eyes are hazy and your face is ashy, paling from the blood loss.

"Jason, I don't think we-" he says, picking up one of your limp hands in his own, looking to his adoptive brother with pity.

"Shut up and do it." Jason grits back.

He wasn't going to lose you. Not like this. Not before him, not because of him.

Drop you to work, that's all he was going to do. That's all he was going to do. It was late at night, and he had patrol anyways. You were going in for a trial shift that night at the security company, something that could land you an executive manager role and get you out of that shitty job waiting tables. Something that could get both of you into a better apartment, more independent, the start of your life together. When you first started dating he was more than happy to throw Bruce's money around, the billionaire had more than he needed anyways, he wasn't going to miss it. Yet you had begun refusing after the first month, saying you wanted to be independent, and he fell in love right there.

And is this where it got you?

No. That was still all him. He had picked you up in a simple car since he was staking out some gang causing issues around West End and needed to go on stakeout. No reinforced glass, no secret bat gadget hidden in the glove compartment, just some tinted windows. So, who even saw you getting into his car? Well, what was supposed to be just dropping you at work turned into a car chase while you held onto anything you could, screaming in terror. It wasn't often that Jason would be the one getting chased, and under any other circumstances he would have thrown the car into gear and flipped the tables on them.

But you were in the car.

So, he threw it into reverse and ran as fast as he could. It had all been for vain, a burst tire and shattered windshield sent the car spinning out to a side street, flipping as it hit the curb. The screech of metal was deafening to his ears, the crunch of glass ringing out around him as the world flipped one… two…three…times.

His lungs burnt as he struggled to escape from the seatbelt, head throbbing from the collision on the dash before he looked over to you. His heart stopped in his chest, unable to even respond to the calls of Red Robin over his com link, who he had contacted the moment a gun had been fired at the two of you. "Sweetheart?" his voice cracked slightly, unable to go louder over the ball of fear in his throat. You didn’t respond as he clambered from his seat, arms coming around your back to support you and drag you from the car. he hated the way the image of you, splayed over the glass covered dash, had burnt into the deepest part of his mind. He had dragged you to the shelter of the car, blood boiling in his veins.

Anyone who had come to follow up was laid across the floor in seconds, Jason standing in front of your body like a guard dog. He blocked as much of your features as he could, taking out each gang member that came to inspect the crash with frightening efficiency. By the time Red Robin had arrived on the scene, Jason was already cradling your body in the shadow of the car, desperately trying to stop the bleeding from the bullet wound in your sternum. The bullet wound that he might as well have put there himself.

This was his fault.

"This isn't your fault, Hood." Tim says, laying his other hand on Jason's shoulder, muscled tensed and ready to snap. "None of us could have predicted-"

"Shut up and help," he hissed, fighting to stop himself from crying behind his mask. He hadn't felt this terrified since he was a kid, back in that warehouse. He was stronger than that now. Strong enough that surely, he could help you.

Jason wasn’t oblivious to the pained and pitiful look cast his way. "Hood, they're already gone." he whispers softly, hands coming down to gently cover his still compressed on your chest. Jason shakes his head. "No." he chokes out. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

"Yes." Tim says firmly. "I've…I've got the car. I'll bring it round before the GCPD shows. We can handle this. We can take them back to the cave, clean them up like they deserve-"

"I said No." Jason snaps, blood rushing in his ears. He knew you were gone. He could tell from the way your blood went tacky on your chest, the stream trickling into a standstill. The way your face was devoid of colour, making you look shades lighter than he knew you were. Your hands were limp, head tilted. What was the worst was the way your eyes stared up into him, glassy and fogged, as if cracking open his soul.

Why did you kill me?

Why me?

Why didn't you save me?

He knew you wanted to live, god, he knew you loved life. Loved life with him, and he loved it back in return. If only you had been given the chance he once was. "Bring the car." he chokes out, eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"What are you planning?" Tim asks, hesitant as he sees the way Jason's body is coiled, ready to strike.

"We're going to save them." He says softly, hand squeezing your lax one tightly.

God, he just hoped you weren't going to hate him.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"So, you tracked us down to ask for our services?" Thalia scoffs, circling the two of them. "Didn't think I'd have two birds on our doorstep, didn't your mentor teach you better?" she says disdainfully, eyes raking over Tim and Jason. Jason just holds your body closer, wrapped in a white sheet and cradled in his arms. Tim shifts uncomfortably, making Thalia's eyes gleam when she detects the weakness. "Oh," she purrs, almost delighted, crowding into Tim’s space. "You're off the record."

"This doesn't involve Batman." Jason gruffly says. "This involves me. This is my request."

Thalia's eyes flick back to him, but Jason doesn't flinch. He'd dragged Tim along as an accomplice, going dark on the radar as he returned to the alps, the one place he had sworn to never return to. To do the one thing he had told himself he would never force on anyone.

But he couldn't lose you.

"So, you think you can just show back up and ask to use the pits?" She asks, eyes flicking to your form in his arms. "My, you really are as dumb as you are bold, aren't you?" She hums. Jason remains still, eyes focused on the hooded woman in front of him.

"I'll owe you a favour." he says, without a beat of hesitation.

Red Robin's eyes widen behind him, domino mask unable to hide his surprise. "Hood, are you kidding? you can't just-"

"Shut it." Jason hisses back. "This isn't your decision. This is mine, consequences included."

Tim backs down only slightly. "You know what Batman will say. We can't trust these people; they'll use that favour to burn down Gotham. Think."

Jason tries to, he really does. He tries to see the big picture, but all he can see is fragments of you and your life together that was smashed the second he put you in that passenger seat. "I am." he says softly.

He could walk away now and save Gotham for sure, or he could stay and save his world.

Thalia sidles up to him, lips pulled into a smirk, like a snake rearing its head. "I could do you a deal if that's the case." she says, eyes sparkling like emeralds. "But you have to make good on it. You of all should know how we handle broken promises in the League."

Jason considers it for a second, before steeling himself. There was no other option for him.

"You have a deal."

"I knew bringing you back would be worth it." she smiles, like a cat batting a mouse between its paws. She turns, gesturing for them to follow her with two fingers. "Come." she commands, beginning a clipping pace through the carved stone hideout. Jason follows wordlessly, and Tim soon does a moment after.

"How long have they been dead?" she calls, not even looking back.

"Less than a week." he replies almost immediately. Thalia smiles at that, dark and curious.

"Oh? Snappy, I see. Who exactly is under that blanket to make you run to this corner of the world so quickly?" she grins, stopping at the entrance of a deep set of stairs. She stalks closer, steps echoing and deliberate. With a quick motion she pulls back the sheet from your stiff corpse, eyes raking over your face.

"A lover?" she asks, eyebrows raised at the way Jason holds you closer instinctively.

"None of your business." he replies gruffly, making her roll her eyes.

"We should've taught you how to be subtle." she murmurs, beginning to descend the stairs. He follows into the darkness, shadows beginning to give way to a soft green glow, bouncing off the carved stone walls. Tim takes in the room they step in to at the bottom, a grand, ornate space, yet somehow still appearing crude. Death clings to the atmosphere, cold and uninviting.

"Hood, is this where-" he begins quietly, but Jason cuts him off.

"Yes." he says as he follows Thalia deeper, feet stopping by the edge of the glowing green pool. Panic swirls in his gut, making his senses set themselves on fire. His mind races as he tries to control his own fear, to stop the metallic taste from rising in his throat. Flashes of his own time in the pool pry themselves into the forefront of his memory, making his fists clench in your sheet. He pushes them all down, taking a deep and shaky breath.

This was for you.

"Don't forget, you owe me." Thalia warns, gaze haughty as he kneels by the pool, unwrapping you from your blanket. His heart wrenches seeing your stiff body, eyes still open as if to judge him. When he's untangled the sheet from you, he slowly begins to slip your body into the water, Tim running his hands through his hair in worry behind him.

"Jesus…" Tim breathes, anxiety radiating off him as he watches your body submerge under the green glow of the Lazarus Pit. Jason doesn't move from his kneeling position, Thalia beside him as he scans the water for a sign of life, a sign of movement. A sign of you. After a few tense moments, it happens. A hand breaks through the surface, making Tim jump. Your fingers are clawed in pain, but he chooses to focus on the way your colour returns to the digits. You appear from the pit like you're drowning, eyes rolled into the back of your head as you breach the water. Your mouth is open in a wide gasp, screaming in unmeasurable pain. His heart tears itself in two and his stomach is in knots hearing you make that kind of noise, writhing and clawing at your face.

Thalia watches you scream and double over in the pit, making a mocking pout as madness clouds your eyes. "Aww, how cute. You're just like each other, a match made in hell."

"Shit…" Tim exhales, pacing back and forwards behind him. "Batman isn't going to like this. This isn't right, this isn't right…" he mutters, panic written all over him. Jason drowns both of them out, extending his hand softly towards you, leaning precariously over the waters to gently grip your wrist and guide you his way. He could fix you. he could fix this. He could make it all better.

He guides you until you're in front of him, the familiar burning smell of the Lazarus pit stinging his nose, a smell he struggled to describe yet it haunted him on random nights. His eyes soften under the mask as he sees the panic in your eyes, the shock of coming back paired with the madness fighting to grip your mind. The sound of your cries and screams echoed around the room, a sound so full of pain and fear that he couldn't help but flinch.

He could teach you, the way he was taught. He could help you get your feet back the soft way, a way he wished he could have been offered. He'd do everything in his power to make your second chance as painless as possible. He'd nurse your mind back if that's what it needed, calm the rages late at night if you had them. He'd take you in any form you came to him, growing pains and all. He'd teach you how to live again.

He only hoped that you wouldn't hate him forever for bringing you back.

[softtdaisy]

to be held / Aaron Hotchner

summary. you have an anxiety attack and all you need is the arms of your bodyguard

words count. 2 590 

what to expect. mention of anxiety, reader has an anxiety attack and these two are stupid in love

a/n. is this becoming my favorite series? maybe but i'm so obsessed i want to write more of these two so please if you have any idea you can request it 🤍

bodyguard masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Time: 1:23 am.

Number of rolling over in the bed: around 30.

It was one of those nights. One where your anxiety was getting the upper hand on your sanity. 

The last couple of days haven’t been the easiest either. Maybe this explained why your heart kept beating faster and your breath kept getting stuck in your throat. 

Your stalker has sent you new pictures. At first, you didn’t even pay attention to them. You received them through a new email address. Since neither Hotch nor his team saw the threat, you didn’t open the message immediately, letting it sleep in your mailbox the whole day.

You had dinner with Hotch that evening. It didn’t happen as much as you wished; that man had a lot of work and often ate in his room, on his computer. Sometimes you would call a friend to give you company, sometimes you would write or compose a song, and some nights you would just stay by yourself, enjoying the silence.

But that night, Hotch stayed with you. You told him some memories from your last tour, and he listened. This was a consistent pattern of communication. You talked, and he listened. You offered to invite him to your next concert. And you ignored the heartache you got when he answered, “Sure, I’ll come.”

Having no idea when you would be able to go on tour again.

Knowing that the day you could, Hotch wouldn’t be by your side anymore.

Scared that when he would leave this place, he would leave your life too.

And so after dinner, he was smoking on your balcony, checking on his phone. You remembered laughing at your dirty thought that you wished he could use his experienced finger on you instead of his cigarette. The last moment of peace you got before finally reading your mail.

“Hope you bought the red one, love,” it said. Linked with pictures of you trying on dresses earlier that week for an event. Most of the pictures were blurry, but there were some distinctive elements. Like your naked shoulder. Or Hotch’s presence in the corner. That was the scariest part for you. Even your bodyguard couldn’t have prevented it.

The rest of the night was just…blurry. You screamed and didn’t see Hotch run back inside. Suddenly you felt his arm around you, holding you against his chest, while his other arm straightened, with his gun in front of him. Even when he realized there was no threat inside and took your phone from your hand, he didn’t let you go.

“I’m here,” he repeated multiple times in your ear. You remember, he whispered. Because his voice never sounded so soft, even with a directive tone. With your eyes closed, you could picture his voice. Imagining a whole painting from it.

It helped you fall asleep that night while he spent the next hours working on your case with his team.

It helped you fall asleep the following nights when you could still see the pictures clearly in your head anytime you closed your eyes.

But tonight, it didn’t help you.

And maybe it was because you knew Hotch wasn’t there.

It didn’t happen much, less than once a week. But some days, he would leave and not come back until hours later or the following day.

“I know you’re going to your other wife,” you told him one day in a very dramatic tone. You always made fun of him for leaving early in the morning, almost like a cheater who was indeed trying to escape discreetly. 

“What can I say?” he replied, with a shrug. “The kids are waiting for me.” He couldn’t contain his smile when you looked at him with big eyes and your mouth open, too surprised Aaron Hotchner had joked with you.

Oh, how you would do everything to hear him laugh right now.

You didn’t realize how bad your anxiety was—or actually you knew but tried to pretend it wasn’t that bad—until you went to grab your phone and noticed your hand shaking. You quickly lit up the room, hoping it would help. But it got worse when it felt like the whole room was moving and your vision was getting blurry.

And the only thought in your mind was that you needed Hotch right now.

You didn’t know how you managed to, but you got up and walked to your living room. Your legs felt so weak that you kept a hand on the wall like it could save you from falling. You weren’t convinced about the efficacy of this, but it worked. 

“Sorry?” you said in a low voice. So low that you barely heard yourself. But Alvez, the agent there for the night, did. You could see the confusion in his eyes and the worry when he saw your condition. You lost all the color in your face and looked like you were close to breaking down. You were. “Do you know when Aaron is coming back?”

“Hotch isn’t supposed to come until the morning. Why?”

A heartache. A big one. Almost like a knife hammered right in your heart. 

“Nothing. I… I just needed… You know what? Never mind.”

Suddenly going back to your bed felt impossible. You opened the door to your room again but glided against the wall until you sat on the floor. Soon, the tears were running down your face, and your sobbings seemed so loud you didn’t hear the agent behind the door calling Hotch.

“I don’t know, she's asking for you. She doesn’t look great. No, she went back to her room.”

The ride was thirty minutes. Hotch did it in twenty.

Usually, coming back to your place was light. Not that he could forget about the case and why he was there in the first place. And if he was asked, he would deny it. But it almost felt like coming home.

But tonight, all Hotch could feel was the heaviness of the situation. Alvez was quick to tell him you hadn’t moved from your room, and he respected the instruction that nobody should enter your bedroom without your permission. You deserved intimacy, and only an emergency allowed them to open your door. 

This one was a particular situation. Hotch was the only one who could feel the emergency of the situation. 

After he put his hand on your door handle, it took him a second to open it. Your case wasn’t scaring him, even if that bastard was driving him insane. But the idea of you breaking down was awful to him. He took a big breath before finally stepping into the so-dark room. 

Hotch didn’t see you at first. You were nowhere to be seen. Not on your bed, where he expected you to be at 2 am. Not by the window, where you loved to stand when your thoughts were getting too loud.

“Hello, beautiful.”

He looked down and saw you, still standing on the floor, your back against the wall. Hotch was soon on his knees in front of you, a hand on your knee and the other on your face. He moved it slowly, looking for any sign of…well, whatever could tell him what happened while he wasn’t there. And he found it, somehow, with the stains of your tears on your cheeks. 

You followed as his eyes were scanning every millimeter of your face. You almost found it funny how you flirted with him non-stop since he started working for you, but it took an anxiety attack to get him to look at you like that.

After a moment, Hotch’s eyes landed on yours. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked in a deep but calm voice. That man was bossy. You heard him giving orders to members of his team like it was the most natural thing to do. Making you wonder if he was talking like that to everybody. Everybody but you.

The sudden realization that he wasn’t asking to know; he was asking if you wanted to share it with him made you sob again. You made that man drive around the city in the middle of the night because you were anxious about his absence, and still, he wasn’t waiting for an explanation if you weren’t ready to give him one.

You needed Hotch to be safe.

But you needed Aaron to feel safe. 

The words left your mouth before you got the time to think about them. “I needed you,” you whispered in another cry.

You could have easily missed the subtle way his head moved because of your blurry vision. You could have missed the brief smile on his lips—you needed him. But you couldn’t have missed the way his arms moved slowly. Not to hold you, no. To carry you. One arm under your knee, the other on your back. “And I’m here,” he replied, still looking at you right in the eyes. Making sure his words made their way to your brain. To your heart. 

It wasn’t until he lifted you up and you could cuddle your face in the crook of his neck that you noticed his look: his messy hair, the dark circles under his glossy and tired eyes, and the little salt-and-pepper beard that he didn’t shave this morning. It was past 2 am, and he hadn't slept since last night. If you asked him, he would say it was his job, and he had no complaints to make about that. 

You still felt guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

You thought Aaron didn’t hear you. Or he pretended not to; you weren’t so sure. The darkness in the room hid the tense in his jaw when he actually heard you. 

He kept walking, from the wall to your bed, without saying a single word. He still hadn’t said anything when he laid you on the bed in the softest way. And still nothing when he sat next to you and brought his fingers to your forehead to put away the wet hair stuck on your skin.

“I don’t ever want you to be sorry for needing me.” It was almost mesmerizing how he could easily look you in the eyes all the time. “Is it clear?” That was Aaron Hotchner in all his splendor, commanding in all situations.

You simply nodded at first. Too stunned to reply anything at that man clearly asking you to need him whenever you felt like it. Too stunned by the beauty of this same man simply illuminated by the reflection of the moon afar. Too stunned by the feeling of his finger still on your face, tracing an invisible line from your forehead to your jaw. 

The last one was a necessity for Hotch. To see that his absence didn’t break you.

“I know this isn’t procedure, but…” You closed your eyes, almost ashamed of your proposition. The truth was, you thought about it a lot. The whole time alone in bed, remembering that Hotch wasn’t in the room next to yours. You told yourself that if he was there, you would have reached for him. But now that he was right next to you, his elbow next to your chest, so close you could feel the heat of his body on yours, it was harder. Harder to ask. Harder to assume. “Do you think you could stay with me? Tonight?”

Hotch stayed silent again. You could have meant so many things.

Staying around, at your apartment, and not leaving again. Even though it would have been unlikely for him to leave again after coming back.

Staying in your room, simply around to make sure you would sleep well and nothing would happen to you. 

But he knew. From the insecurity in your voice when you asked him that. You were never insecure, certainly not with him. But this time it was a question of flirting or playing around with a desire you both had for each other. 

It was about feeling safe in someone else's arms. Something you couldn’t experience anymore.

You felt his hand on your face again, and his thumb brushing your temple softly. “One minute,” he whispered. You didn’t open your eyes but felt his body leaving your bed. Making it lighter, sure, but emptier, mostly. You heard the door closing and nothing else.

You didn’t hear Hotch talk to the other agent. “Go home, I’ll stay here.” 

The benefit of being the boss was that he had no explanation to give. Not that Hotch would have been ashamed to say he would be staying in your room—something you asked for. His job was to take care of you and do what you needed to be in security.

Was it all professional, though?

When he came back to your room, you were still lying with your eyes closed. He leaned against the door, his arms crossed against his chest. That had been a hell of a night, working on a case he hated and then getting the phone call that you needed him. He imagined so many terrible scenarios. So awful that seeing you peacefully lying on your bed healed something in him he didn’t even know was bruised.

“I can feel you, Aaron Hotchner.” 

A laugh escaped his lips. “You need to sleep now,” he said, walking back to your bed. He sat against the headboard, his legs resting above your quilt. Instinctively, you turned around, your head resting against his thigh.

This was the closest you’ve ever been to Aaron, except for the moment when he put his arm around you to protect you or when you held his arm at some event. This was something different. This was intimate.

“I’m scared.” You mumbled, your voice muffled against his jeans’ material. 

Hotch brought his hand to your back, making his fingers travel all over it slowly and softly, giving you goosebumps. “Of what?” 

“Everything.” You moved your head a little, just enough so you could open your eyes and look at him. You weren’t surprised that his look was already on your face. “Of my stalker, sure. I feel like this isn’t going to end, and it’s driving me insane.”

You were met by silence. Because he knew there was more than this. 

“And at the same time, I’m scared of the day you’ll leave me.” 

Hotch’s hand stopped moving; it was fully open against your back. You didn’t know if he was the one who pushed you softly or if you moved closer to him by yourself, but soon you were cuddling harder against your bodyguard. So close you heard the breath he let go at the thought of leaving you. 

You imagined many different answers from him when the thought first came to you. That this was his job—classic. That it was meant to happen—logical. That it would mean you were safe again—reassuring. 

But he said something else. 

“We shouldn’t think about it right now.” When his hand moved again to the top of your back, his fingers slipped under your collar to caress your neck.

Not just you. We. 

The idea of losing you was something that was haunting Hotch too. 

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep with him by your side. While he stayed awake watching you and wondering

How was he going to go on with his life the day this case would be over and he would have to say goodbye to the woman that woke up feelings he had shut down years ago?

Tag List: @kiwriteswords@monzabee@raysmayhem-72 (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[meazalykov]

the video

aitana bonmati x barca femeni x barca!reader

summary: on international break- a video circulates online that will cause your girlfriend, and club teammates, to be concerned

warnings: mentions of abuse, angst

on international break, you clashed with your coach over a situation. 

you’ve realized that your national team coach was being overly aggressive towards some of the younger players– the 18 to 22 year old ones. 

as the captain, you gave them a safe space to talk to you about it. you had the platform– as a 2020 ballon d’or winner, and 2 time champions league winner– to speak up about any situation that is bothering you. 

even if that might piss off the “higher ups” of your national team. 

after seeing your coach nearly scream, not yell, but scream at one of the youngsters on the team for not making a header during an international friendly.. you had enough. 

you pulled your coach to the side and confronted him at halftime.

 

“hey, why did you scream at her over the failed set piece? its her debut?” 

“don’t question me about my corrections.” he mumbled, looking away from you and waving at another staff member yards away. 

“i will! you can’t scream at the players about their mistakes, it's affecting the team chemistry and they need to be nurtured into having experience– not screamed at. you can see that they’re SCARED to even come to training because of this.” you snapped.

this has happened for long enough. 

little did you know, a few people in the distance were recording this interaction between your coach and you. 

what shocked them was when the coach grabbed your arm, aggressively, and pulled you close to him so you’re just 3 feet from the left side of his body. 

he squeezed your arm, purposely, which caused your face to squeeze as his physical assault caught you off guard. 

“listen, you do NOT question me about my coaching! maybe if she scored that, she wouldn’t have been punished!” he said through clenched teeth, staring at you with darkened eyes and a vein nearly popping out of his forehead.

realizing that you wouldn’t let him do this to you, you smacked his hand off of your arm and sprinted off– completely shocked that he would do that to you. 

the people who recorded the interaction sent the video to all news publications afterwards– the new york times, bbc, foxsports, tmz, 433– you name it. 

at the end of the game, where you were benched after that confrontation before the start of the second half, everyone booed the coach. 

everyone was confused– even you. at first, you assumed that your own country was booing you guys. that didn’t make sense– you guys won 3-2. 

once you guys were in the dressing room, all of the fifa officials took your coach away to talk to him. 

you had no idea that people recorded that assault that happened to you. some of your teammates noticed the red mark on your arm and the quietness of your voice– so they figured it had to do with the coach. 

“y/n..” you turn around to see the young midfielder behind you with a sad smile. 

the same 17 year old girl you defended after she was screamed over a missed header. 

“hey! congrats on today.” you pulled her into a soft hug, rubbed her upper back before pulling away. 

“thank you.” she smiled. 

you couldn’t resent her for the moment between the coach and you– he is the problem not her. 

when the national team got on the bus, the coach wasn’t there. the nice assistant coach (who has fallen to the main coaches abuse too) took his place. 

your eyebrows knitted together as you saw a notification from your barcelona teammate and close friend– alexia. 

ale 

WHAT THE FUCK? 

ale 

are you okay?!! 

y/n 

i am? 

y/n 

what's going on!?

ale

there’s a video on the internet

alex 

instagram.com/justwomensports….

when you clicked on the link, your face turned pale. 

many people have recorded the moment between the coach and you from hours before. 

you looked strong at first, until he grabbed your arm. the terrified look on your face was present until you smacked his arm away. 

to say that the media was in an outrage– that would be an understatement. 

almost every news publication has posted about it. there was no possible way that the coach wouldn’t be sacked for the amount of negative attention this has brought. 

you didn’t want to imagine how aitana, your girlfriend, is reacting to the situation– as she keeps calling you over-and-over again.  

y/n 

tana, i’ll call you once i’m back in the hotel. i will explain. 

aitana

i should kill him 

aitana

are you okay mi amor? 

y/n

i don’t know

y/n 

i think my mind is trying to supress it, but i can’t explain how i feel 

aitana

please call me asap 

when you clicked off of your imessages– mapi texted you in the groupchat between ingrid, her, and you. 

mapi 

y/n are you active? 

y/n

yes, hi!

mapi

do you want me to kill that pos? 

you giggle at the message- not because you want to see him dead- but the barcelona girls have their extreme way with defending their loved ones. 

ingrid

maybe you shouldn’t threaten ppl mapi 

ingrid

especially not now

ingrid

y/n please tell me you’re okay 

mapi

or will be okay? 

y/n 

i don’t know how to feel about it

y/n 

it happened so fast 

y/n 

i think my brain isn’t trying to process it. i’m scared

ingrid

call aitana

y/n

i am once i’m back in the hotel, i’m on the bus with the team right now. 

after turning your phone off and looking at your phone, your national teammates on the bus were very quiet. 

as they’re scrolling on their phones– they’re understanding why the mean coach isn’t on the bus anymore.

 your best friend on your national team taps your shoulder and you look over at her, seeing that she finished watching the video. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” she mumbles very quietly as she gives you a heartbroken look. 

“when did this happen?” she asked. 

“at halftime, remember when i had to pull him outside of the dressing room to talk to him..” you say. 

your best friend frowns before pulling your head into her body for a hug. 

“is this why you were benched once the game started again?” she whispers. 

“i believe so.” 

one thing that everyone knew– your girlfriend in spain wasn’t going to let *that* slide. 

the next day-- your 2023 ballon d’or winner girlfriend scored a goal in a game against another country.. she held up two fingers on her left hand and one finger on her right, dedicating her golozo for you. since you wore the number 12 on your club and national teams.

next, an important post on instagram spoke up about abuse in the community. a post that went viral alongside your situation.

aitana was quick to repost it on her story– bringing more support for you as you struggled with that traumatic moment. 

before you came back to barcelona a week later, you told the “higher-ups” of your national team that if your coach stays, you would retire from international football. 

you are 24 years old, so that is an extreme ultimatum. 

they couldn’t afford to lose you, one of the best players in the world. 

the coach was sacked, charged for assault, and you are happy about it. 

in barcelona, most of the girls came to your apartment to comfort you. 

alexia, her girlfriend olga, ingrid, mapi, esmee, fridolina, patri, caroline, marta, and jana were all there to give you support. 

you cried for the first time about it since the incident occurred. never in your life were you treated that way. 

once the girls left your house hours later, aitana stayed. well– you guys lived together so it wasn’t an option for her to leave. 

with aitana, you told more details about the things you’ve seen the coach do to the team. the way he ruined the chemistry and motivation of the girls is something you’re prepared to fix with the new coach coming onto the national team. 

she cuddles you and plays with your hair as you talk. refusing to leave your side for a while. 

the spanish national team had their own problems, which you know about, so aitana is able to help you as you help her through her problems too.

aitana and your club teammates vows to never let someone hurt you like that again. 

authors note: this has been in my drafts for over a month.

my master list is linked here if you want to read more fics <3

[forzalando]

boo’d up

summary: a night out enjoying some haunted houses leads to a few surprises pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader (Y/N, use of she/her), implied pairings of alex x charles, rebecca x carlos, & carmen x george wc: 1.6k warnings: descriptions of a haunted house (including darkness, tight spaces, screaming), mentions of being afraid/panicking, cursing author's note: guys i had this idea (because this is based on a true story/real-life experience where i was Y/N in this exact scenario except it was not a hot guy/oscar piastri, it was a young woman and i scared the absolute shit out of her). so i took a lot of creative liberties here. anyway! this is completely un-edited and complete garbage but i couldn't get it out of my head and i haven't written in 12 years. i figured it was time. go crazy!

It was a cold October night; the wind whistling through half-barren trees caused a slight shiver to trickle down your body.  The sun had set on the drive to your destination – an old farm in the middle of nowhere, which your friends had pointed out multiple times was a recipe for disaster. You shamelessly pulled the upcoming birthday card to get them to agree to the weekend activity: a haunted house compound you’d read about online that had impeccable reviews – four different houses for $40 was a deal you couldn’t pass up.

A massive, dark, dilapidated house stood in front of you – your first haunted destination of the evening. Screams from inside pierced through the air and sent waves of uneasiness and excitement through you; you’d fallen prey to falsely advertised haunted houses in the past, so you hoped with all your might that these did not disappoint.

“I should’ve stayed home,” Carmen grumbled as she pouted behind you in line. “It’s freezing, dark, and I have a million things I could be working on.”

“Oh, come on, Carm,” you teased, lightly punching her arm. “You’re telling me this isn’t your ideal Saturday night?”

“It’s definitely mine,” Rebecca chirped. “I love Halloween – all the creepy crawlies, scary movies, witches, chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. And candy, can’t forget the candy.”

You laughed and looked around at your small group, your smile faltering a bit when your eyes landed on Alex. She’d wrapped herself up tightly in her sweater, and you could tell she was trying her hardest to put on a brave face, but you saw right through the façade.

“Alex, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you urged. “I promise you, it’s absolutely ok.”

She shook her head quickly, linking her arm through yours. “I’ll be fine – it’s all fake, right? And I’ll just hold onto you the whole time; I’m still betting that you’re going to be the most scared out of all of us, even if you disagree.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” you sang, pulling Alex forward to follow Rebecca and Carmen into the menacing-looking house.

Immediately upon entering, you were plunged into complete darkness. The hallways were just wide enough to walk through sideways – if you tried to walk straight, your shoulders scraped against the walls. People were incessantly banging on the walls beside you – screaming and shouting in your ears, your face, following you as you tried to shimmy as quickly as you could through the maze.

You could feel your heart rate kicking up, and each time someone banged on the wall and screamed near you, it began to beat even faster.

In the midst of your panic, you realized Alex’s hand was no longer in yours. You reached back blindly until you were gripping her sweater-clad forearm and started pulling, but surprisingly, pulling with very little movement.

“Alex, move faster,” you pleaded, growing more and more impatient, more panicked. It felt as if she was trying to keep you from running, trying to pull you back and keep you in that godforsaken house. Either the latter or she had suddenly gained a shit ton of muscle, preventing you from pulling her along with ease. “I’m scared, okay? You win, I’m terrified. Now, please try to keep up, I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

The horrors seemed endless – it was still pitch black, and the further you went into the house, the smaller the hallways became. As soon as you started to think you’d never get out and would be stuck in that nightmare forever, you saw streaks of moonlight ahead and burst through a black curtain into the cool, night air.

Gasping for a breath, you dropped Alex’s arm and started yelling as you spun to face her.

“Alex, what the hell – oh my god, you’re not Alex.”

Stood behind you, rubbing their wrist, was an impossibly attractive guy around your age with floppy brown hair and a look of concern on his face.

“You’ve got a hell of a grip,” he mumbled, a thick Australian accent hitting your ears. “Think you might have bruised me.”

You could hear Rebecca and Carmen snickering somewhere behind you, “Yeah, Y/N, you bruised him.”

It took everything in you, but you ignored your friends and focused your attention on the handsome stranger before you.

“I am so, so sorry; I thought you were my friend, and I was panicking just a bit, trying to get out of there as fast as I could. Plus, Alex was afraid before we even got in the house and – wait where is Alex?”

You started looking around frantically, convinced that you’d left your friend stranded in that abomination of a haunted house, only to hear her giggling and chatting with someone just a few feet away.

“It looks like Charles rescued your friend,” the handsome stranger shared. “Since you were too focused on ripping my arm out of my socket.”

“I said I was sorry – ” you started to say, but as you turned back towards him, you noticed a smirk of amusement on his face.

He put his hands in the air in surrender and laughed, “Hey, I’m just messing with you; no actual harm done. I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you whispered back, feeling a sudden wave of shyness come over you now that the initial shock was wearing off. “And I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

You froze as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Nodding in response, you held your breath as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “That was absolutely terrifying and I’m glad I had you guiding me through.”

Heat rose up your neck as he pulled away slowly, a soft smile on his face and kind eyes to match.

“Well, I’d use the word guiding very lightly,” you laughed. “More like yanking or heaving, well, trying to. I could barely move you, and I was pulling with all my might. You must eat some serious amounts of spinach.”

“Spinach?”

“You know, Popeye? The sailor man? I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach?”

He shook his head and your cheeks heated in embarrassment – Popeye? Really?

Before you could die of humiliation and make one of the houses actually haunted, he bumped his shoulder against yours and laughed.

“Must be an American thing – I’m new here.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around,” you offered, bumping his shoulder right back. “I’ve been told I’m a great tour guide.”

“I’d like that very much. Maybe you can start by taking me through the rest of these houses? You can hold my hand – just in case you get scared again.”

He spoke with all the confidence in the world, but his cheeks and nose were flushed a gorgeous pink that you could see even in the moonlight.

You slipped your hand in his and turned your attention back to your friends, who were watching with wide eyes.

“Leave it to Y/N to accidentally almost kidnap a complete stranger in a pitch-black haunted house, and they turn out to be her dream guy,” Rebecca teased. “Looks like Alex found someone too – what did we do wrong, Carmen?”

Before Carmen could answer, two voices shouted from behind and caught everyone’s attention – two more devastatingly handsome men running towards your group.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Carlos got us lost,” a British voice rang out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmen and Rebecca smile giddily and high-five each other. Before walking over to the newcomers, they winked in your direction and whispered simultaneous “thank you’s”.

You winked back and squeezed Oscar’s hand a little tighter before leading everyone towards the next house.

“I think this next one is clown-themed,” someone mused from behind, causing you to stiffen.

“Clowns?” You whispered, your steps slowing to a near stop.

Alex giggled – “See, Y/N, I told you that you’d end up being the most scared! You should’ve listened to us when we tried to change your mind about coming!”

You turned your gaze towards Oscar, his eyes already on you and that adorable pink blush still prominent on his cheeks. “You know what, I’m actually really glad we came, even if I hate the dark, hate tight spaces, hate clowns, and will probably hate whatever else comes after that.”

“I’m glad you came too,” Oscar replied, adjusting his grip to link his fingers through yours. “And don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any clowns.”

“Mate, you’re terrified of clowns,” Charles ribbed. “You literally said on the way here that if there were any clown-themed houses, you would leave.”

“Gee, thanks, Charles, you could have just kept that to yourself for the sake of my pride.”

“We can protect each other,” you offered. “Or if it’s too much, we can grab some seriously overpriced snacks and wait for everyone else to go through the rest of the houses.”

“How about we face our fear but if either of us screams at any point in the house, you let me take you on a date?”

“I mean, we’re both afraid of clowns, it’s bound to happen,” you acknowledged.

He smiled at you; a heart-stopping, full-mouthed grin, and clarified, “Exactly.”

As soon as you stepped into the haunted house, only one foot each in the door before anything or anyone had even popped out, you both let out blood-curdling shrieks.

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123 @wobblymug @ctrlyomomma @ladystardust05 @reiofsuns2001 @foreveralbon @anaviieiraaa

taglist post: here!! if you’d like to be added!

[gdinthehouseee]

Too Far: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: ji-yong was always restrained when it came to you---his temptation, personified---but unfortunately some things can't last forever...

word count: 2484

tags: steam to angst (trust me guys), hurt no comfort, vampire!jiyong, human!reader, blood + blood drinking, death, guilt

ao3 link + vampire au masterlist

The fire in the grand hearth flickered weakly, casting long shadows against the stone walls of Ji-yong’s secluded estate. Outside, the night was still, moonlight bleeding through the tall arched windows, illuminating the man standing rigid in the center of the room.

Ji-yong wasn’t human. That much had been clear from the moment you met him. Everything about him was too sharp, too refined—his features sculpted with an elegance that didn’t belong to this world. His movements, when he allowed himself to be seen, were fluid, effortless, almost unnatural in their grace. And his eyes… his eyes burned, dark as the abyss itself, filled with hunger he tried so desperately to hide.

It had been days since you last saw him, and now you understood why.

He was starving.

Ji-yong stood across the room, his back turned to you, his body tense as though carved from stone. His hands were clenched into fists, the veins in his forearms straining against his pale skin. Every breath he took was ragged, uneven—like he was barely holding himself together.

"You shouldn't have come," he rasped, his voice lower than usual, rough like the scrape of velvet over steel.

You took a slow step forward. "I had to."

"You don't understand," he hissed, spinning to face you. His eyes—once warm, teasing, full of mischief—were almost black, pupils dilated in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm losing control."

The confession lingered between you, thick with unspoken warnings. Yet, you didn't back away.

"I know," you murmured, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded in your chest. "I can see it in you. I see how you're suffering."

He swallowed hard, his hands trembling at his sides. "You think I want this? You think I enjoy the way my body aches for something I can't have? For something that could destroy you?"

"You won’t destroy me, Ji-yong."

"You don’t know that.”

The air between you was thick, electric. You could hear the faint ticking of the antique clock in the corner, the soft crackle of firewood shifting in the hearth. But beneath it all, you could hear him—the uneven hitch of his breath, the way he clenched his jaw, the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting every instinct screaming at him to take what he needed.

"How long has it been?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his head away. "Too long."

That was all he gave you, but it was enough. Enough to understand the way his body shook, the way his lips parted slightly as he exhaled, as though simply being near you was agony.

Your heartbeat drummed steadily in your chest, and you saw the way his eyes flickered toward your throat—the way he swayed, just barely, as if caught between his conscience and his hunger. And yet, he still refused to move toward you so you decided to step forward. Slowly. Deliberately.

"Ji-yong," you murmured, reaching out to him.

He flinched before you could touch him, shaking his head. "Don’t."

"You need it," you said softly, watching how his jaw tightened, how his entire body remained coiled like a predator on the verge of breaking.

"You don’t understand what you’re offering me," he ground out, voice thick with restraint.

"I do," you countered, undeterred. "And I trust you."

His breath hitched, sharp and unsteady, as though even the act of inhaling had become unbearable. You saw the precise moment his control cracked—the slight shudder of his shoulders, the way his fingers curled inward like he was trying to grasp onto the last fraying threads of restraint. His entire body tensed, rigid with conflict, every muscle coiled as if preparing for battle—though whether it was against himself or against the temptation of you, you couldn’t tell. His throat bobbed with a thick swallow, his lips parting just slightly, and you swore you heard the faintest of whimpers escape before he clenched his jaw tight. Even his eyes, which had burned with defiance moments ago, now flickered with something raw—need, desperation, the slow, aching loss of a war he had been fighting for too long.

"You shouldn’t," he whispered, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Then make me afraid," you challenged, stepping closer until you could feel the cold radiating from his body. "Show me why I should run."

His eyes snapped to yours, blazing with something dark and dangerous. "Don't tempt me."

You reached up, fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was cold, but beneath the surface, you could feel something simmering—an unbearable heat restrained only by sheer will.

"Please," you whispered, tilting your head slightly, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. "Take what you need."

Ji-yong's breath came out in a harsh, shuddering exhale. His restraint shattered. With a growl, he surged forward, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and devastating. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body trembling against yours. You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, his grip tightening as though he could never be close enough.

And then his lips left yours, breaking away with a soft, lingering drag, as if he was reluctant to part from you even for a second. The absence sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could chase after him, he was already moving—his mouth tracing a slow, tortuous path down the curve of your jaw. His breath, hot and uneven, fanned over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You felt the way his lips hovered just above your pulse, not quite touching, not yet claiming, as though savoring the anticipation was its own form of pleasure. His nose brushed along the delicate column of your throat, and you heard the sharp inhale he took, drinking in your scent like it was something intoxicating. Every second felt stretched, unbearably slow, the air between you thick with tension, with hunger, with the final, fragile moment before surrender. His hands twitched against you, his grip tightening, and when he finally spoke, his voice was wrecked, desperate.

"Tell me to stop."

You swallowed, feeling the rapid pulse beneath your skin. "I won’t."

"Don’t do this to me," he groaned.

A soft, lingering kiss. Then another. And another. It was almost reverent, the way he worshiped your neck, the way his lips traced delicate patterns as if memorizing every inch of you. But beneath the tenderness, there was something raw, something unraveling. His breathing was uneven, his body vibrating with tension, his fingers gripping you like he already knew he was falling.

Then, finally, a sharp sting.

Your breath caught, hands flying to his shoulders as his fangs pierced your skin. The pain was brief, a sudden bite of ice before warmth flooded through you, spreading in slow, tingling waves. Your pulse pounded in your ears, a deep, thrumming sensation that pulsed in time with his lips against your throat.

He groaned against you, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you impossibly closer, his body molding to yours, his fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes like he was afraid you might slip away. His fangs sank deeper, his lips sealing around the wound as he drank, slow at first, savoring it, his tongue sweeping over your skin as he let out a low, guttural sound of pleasure.

The sensation was dizzying. Heat bloomed beneath your skin, pooling low in your stomach, sending tendrils of fire curling through your veins. Your body felt light, almost weightless, like you were drifting somewhere between reality and a dream.

"Ji-yong," you whispered, your fingers slipping into his hair, tangling into the silken strands. You barely recognized your own voice—it was breathless, dazed, lost in the feeling of him.

He growled in response, a deep, primal sound vibrating through his chest. Suddenly, the pull became stronger. Faster. More desperate.

Your eyelids fluttered, another wave of dizziness washing over you as your knees weakened beneath you. Your fingers, which had been gripping his hair so tightly, now slid back down to his shoulders, clinging onto him for balance.

"Ji-yong," you whispered again, a soft plea this time.

But he wasn’t listening. He was lost. His fangs sank deeper, his arms like iron around you, holding you in place as he drank greedily, as if he had been starved for centuries and had finally found salvation. Your body felt weaker with each passing second, your limbs heavy, the fire that had burned so intensely now fading into something softer, something colder. A flicker of unease curled in your chest.

"Ji-yong…" Your voice was fainter now, barely audible, but still, he didn’t stop. Didn’t hear. Or maybe, he simply couldn’t. 

Your fingers weakly pressed against his chest, trying to push him back. But you had no strength left. The room around you blurred, the edges of your vision darkening. Your heartbeat, which had been pounding so wildly just moments ago, now slowed. 

Slower. 

And slower. 

And then, it stuttered.

His entire body went rigid, the world around him fading into nothing but the silence—deafening, absolute. His fangs retracted from your throat, the loss of contact sending a sickening wave of clarity crashing into him. He barely had time to catch you as your body sagged, limp and weightless, against his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had happened. And when he did, terror gripped him like a vice.

“No…” The whisper barely escaped his lips, his hands shaking as they hovered over your face, afraid to touch you, afraid to confirm the truth. His fingers finally pressed against your cheek—cold. Too cold. "No, no, no, no—" His voice broke, his breath coming in sharp, frantic gasps as he cradled you closer.

Your chest still rose and fell, but it was too slow, your breaths too faint.

And your heartbeat—

God, your heartbeat. He could barely hear it anymore. Panic crashed into him like a tidal wave, violent and relentless. His mind reeled, screaming at him to do something, anything—but there was nothing. He had done this. He had drained too much. He had crossed the line he swore he never would. His hands trembled as they cupped your face, tilting your head back so he could see you. Your lips were slightly parted, your lashes fluttering weakly, struggling against the pull of unconsciousness.

"Come back to me," he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. His fingers brushed over your cheek, desperate, frantic. "Please. Open your eyes. Look at me."

Nothing.

A broken sound escaped him, something between a sob and a gasp, his head shaking as if denying the reality before him would change it. His thumb ghosted over your lips, the same lips that had whispered his name in laughter, in teasing, in love. Now, they were still. Lifeless.

His chest constricted painfully, his throat tight with unshed tears.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered, his voice raw, shaking. “I was supposed to protect you.” His grip tightened, his forehead pressing desperately against yours. “You told me it was okay, but—” A sharp inhale. His breath hitched. "You didn’t mean this."

Your breath stuttered. Your fingers, which had been loosely curled against his shirt, twitched once.

"That’s it," he exhaled, hope flaring like a dying ember. "Come back. Stay with me, aein. Please—"

The moment was fleeting, because then your body went still. Completely still. A silence followed—one so absolute, so crushing, that it swallowed him whole. Ji-yong didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. It felt like the universe had shattered around him, like reality itself had caved in, leaving him in an empty void where only one truth remained:

You were gone.

His lips parted, a broken gasp escaping as the realization hit him full force. A violent tremor ran through his body, his grip on you tightening as if he could physically hold onto whatever was left of you, as if he could keep you here through sheer will alone. But there was no heartbeat beneath his fingertips. No warmth against his cold skin. No breath. Just silence.

His chest rose and fell in uneven, shaking gasps, but he couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t think, couldn’t process the weight of what he had done. His hands moved, pressing desperately against your face, your arms, your shoulders—anywhere, everywhere—as if trying to coax you back, as if trying to steal back the life he had drained from you. Of course, nothing changed. You weren’t waking up. You never would.

A sob ripped from his throat, raw and strangled, the sound of a man breaking beyond repair. He rocked you in his arms, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips ghosting over your temple.

"You told me I wouldn’t destroy you." A breathless laugh, wet with unshed tears, escaped him. "I told myself I wouldn't, either."

His fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, clutching at you like a drowning man grasping for the surface. But you were slipping away, already lost to the abyss, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His lips found your forehead, lingering there in a desperate attempt to memorize the way you felt, the way you smelled, the way you had once been so undeniably, breathtakingly alive. His voice was a whisper, so soft it barely broke the silence.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, cradling you, whispering your name over and over as if saying it enough times could bring you back. His mind refused to process it, refused to let go.

And then—

Something inside him shattered completely.

A raw, guttural cry tore from his lips, his body curling over yours, shaking with the force of his grief. It was a sound ripped straight from the depths of his soul, from the part of him that had once believed he could have something good in this life. But he had been a fool. He had been warned, over and over, that this was inevitable. That love was a luxury his kind could never afford. That mortals were fragile, fleeting, too easily lost. Now, he has proven them right. He had been selfish.

He killed the only thing that had ever made him feel human.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the broken sobs that wracked his frame. He didn’t move, didn’t think—just held you, rocking slightly, whispering your name in a voice that cracked and crumbled under the weight of his sorrow. At some point, the bloodstains on his lips dried. At some point, the warmth of your body faded completely.

And at some point, Ji-yong truly realised how damning eternal life could be.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis @ldydeath @wcnderlands @eru-vande @breakmeoff @petersasteria @aizshallnotbefound @allthoughtsmindfull

[elizabeth-holland24]

The hotel room was too quiet for someone who just got shipped with two quarterbacks.

She tossed her phone onto the plush white duvet, the screen lighting up every few seconds with another tag, another meme, another headline:

“From Speedy to Sweetheart: F1’s Queen of Cool Linked to NFL Stars in Miami”

She groaned. Loudly. Into a pillow.

Racing at 300 km/h? Fine. Press circuits? Fine. Twitter thinking she’s dating two men at once? Less fine.

She got up, stretched, and grabbed the remote. She flicked through hotel channels before landing on an old Top Gun:Maverick rerun playing on mute. It made her smile.

Her dad had shown her the original on VHS.  It was a comfort movie for both of them, especially when her karting days were brutal and sponsorships were hard. She remembers when Maverick was just announced, she and her father were so excited to go see the movie, being such die hard fans and now experiencing this new era together. The beach scene was just a plus, I mean the music, the flying—it was the perfect blend of chaos and control, just like racing.

And then there was Tom Cruise.

“I heard you're a real pilot,” she had told him in the Miami GP paddock club a day before. He’d grinned and asked if she ever wanted to fly a jet.

“Only if I can race it,” she’d quipped. He’d loved that.

The conversation had been replayed a hundred times online already, mostly because she glowed when she talked Top Gun.

She should go to sleep, really. I mean, finishing P2 in Miami felt like being reborn in heatstroke and adrenaline. But instead of winding down, she was scrolling through memes of herself “single-handedly causing an NFL civil war.”

One TikTok: Dolphins saying “we saw her first,” Chargers and Bengals battling it out in the comments, and someone Photoshopping her face onto the Lombardi Trophy.

She dropped her phone face-down on the bed, half-laughing, half-screaming.

"I swear, I talked to Burrow for two minutes about hydration," she mumbled to no one.

And Herbert?

He’d asked her if F1 tires were like cleats. It had been a weirdly endearing question.

But it was Tom’s post that sent her group chats into chaos.

“Tom Cruise???”

“YOU MET MAVERICK???”

“Please tell me he did the thumbs up thing.”

She smiled at the ceiling. She tapped her Instagram, again. Notifications, mentions, reposts. Nothing new. Until—

“Glen Powell reacted to your story”

Her stomach dropped.

Not in a bad way. In a did-he-really-just- way. She clicked his profile like a criminal. The man looked like he could charm a hurricane. Which… made sense, given the Twisters premiere was coming up soon. She was already friends with a couple of the casts. She’d been invited. But she didn’t think he knew she existed. Not really.

She stared at the notification. It was just a reaction. Not a message. But it was him.

Glen Powell.

Maybe he’d seen the photo of her with Tom. She told herself to chill. But then again—

If the Dolphins, Chargers, and Bengals could all claim her… maybe it was okay if she let herself wonder. Just a little.

The race might have ended hours ago.But something else was just getting started.

EXTRA

The sun had barely started to dip below the Miami skyline when she found herself in the middle of a debate that had absolutely nothing to do with tire strategy.

“No way,” Joe Burrow said, shaking his head as he leaned casually against the barricade in the paddock. “She’s got that icy calm under pressure. That’s Bengals energy.”

Justin Herbert scoffed beside him. “Bengals energy? You mean overhyped playoff pain? Please. She’s Chargers material—fast, calculated, doesn’t fold under pressure.”

She blinked at both of them, still wearing her race suit with the top half tied around her waist and a cooling towel on her neck. “You know I literally drive for Mercedes, right?”

Joe held up his phone. “Yeah, and yet every sports account on my feed is calling you the NFL’s next war.”

Justin chimed in, “You broke the internet harder than a halftime show.”

She laughed, cheeks flushed from the heat—or maybe the attention. “Can I just be Switzerland?”

“Only if Switzerland wins world championships,” Joe shot back.

A media rep nearby was already filming. She gave them a peace sign and mock whispered, “I plead the fifth.”

It felt easy, natural. The kind of chaotic, post-race euphoria that made all the interviews, heat, and nerves worth it.

A/N: So here is the prologue, it's my first time writing a SMAU, so apologies for that, but well be learning along the way. Hope you guys like it, and thank you for all the support. Shoutout to @dramagodesss without her help and tips I would have no idea how to even bring this to life, be sure to check out her amazing Rafe stories.

[irisintheafterglow]

it's fall so it's basically winter so you know what that means: hockey player!satoru !!!!

it should be a crime to look that stunning after running around with a stick for an hour.

"hey, gorgeous. you come here often?"

"a decade later and you still don't have any game. i can't say i'm surprised," you reply, only to find his grin growing wider. you hope he can't tell how your face feels like it's set on fire or that your brain short-circuited when he looked for you after his game. he's still slightly sweaty coming out of the locker room and it makes your pulse skip. distressingly, he's the only guy you can think of who can undo you with just a hoodie and sweatpants; even your legs were starting to give out a little bit when he got closer. "great game, by the way. do you always strive to piss off the opposing team that much?"

"only when i want to impress someone in the stands," he says in a low tone that sends goosebumps over your arms, even under your sweater. though unexpected, you weren't shocked when he mimed yawning or sleeping after scoring a goal that looked like he was playing against toddlers. when you see him, his eyes are the brightest you've ever seen, shining with pride and something like mischief like he was planning something you had no idea about. "you see how many goals i made?"

"how could i not, with the way you were pointing at me after every one?" his tongue absentmindedly runs over his top lip and it takes all of your will not to stare, not with him this close. on the bleachers, it was deceptively easy to watch the muscles in his legs propel him across the ice. you also got away with staring at his self-assured smirk when suguru gave him a pass that the other team couldn't see coming. most of the time, they never saw him coming. his speed across the ice was nothing like the unsteady marches you saw growing up with him. it gave you a small sense of pride, watching him kick ass and knowing that the winks he sent to your section of seats were reserved only for you.

"just making sure you got the message." he's silent for a moment, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and you swear you see his pupils dilate. you can't tell if your breath picked up first or if he did. at some point, the door to the rink creaks open, and suguru raises his hand in farewell, effectively snapping satoru out of his trance. he regains his composure in a blink, though, and shakes his hair around like a dog after a bath. "you doing anything right now?" you scoff at his bluntness and ignore your brain screaming at you to kiss him and get it over with.

"why, you gonna take me somewhere?"

"i believe my victory calls for a celebratory dinner," he drawls nonchalantly, shrugging his muscular shoulders. "plus, you need to catch me up on what's been happening in figure skating land all these years." every nerve in your body was straining to follow wherever he went, but your ego said otherwise. it can't hurt to play a little bit.

"i don't know; i have an essay due in a few days that i need to grind out." you inhale through your teeth, looking to the side undecidedly.

"essay, shmessay. with your gpa, you can have that done in half an hour." you make a big show out of pretending to think about it and he scoffs in defeat. "c'mon, i was planning on paying for you anyways."

"with what money?"

"a very hefty card that does not have my name on it." figures, he'd stolen his dad's wallet again. after a few more seconds of fake thought, you nod and he breathes a visible sigh of relief.

"satoru?" his shoulder is pressed against yours while you walk through the moonlit parking lot, one hand resting in the crook of his elbow. he was the one who linked your arms together from excitement after you agreed to let him buy you dinner. the dim light reflecting off his jawline in sharp lines and you wanted to run your finger over his skin.

"hmm?"

"is this like, a date-date?" his complexion becomes slightly pinker while he opens the passenger side door for you. the question slips out of your mouth without warning and his head dips down to your eye level when you sit down, his forearm steadying him on the top of the vehicle.

"only if you want it to be." his voice is quiet and careful, very obviously indicating that you were the one deciding how the rest of the night would go. god, he's so good.

"do you want it to be?"

"my jersey number is your birthday. what do you think?" you chuckle softly under your breath, the tiniest okay leaving your lips in understanding. "put on your seatbelt. i'm driving with precious cargo." the door abruptly closes and he makes his way around the car to throw his bag into the trunk. a choked noise of surprise comes from your throat and you flick the side of his head when he slides into the driver's seat. neither of you can stop laughing and you sink into the leather at your back, glancing at satoru only to find him already staring at you.

"that is your worst line, to date," you say lightheartedly, shaking your head in exasperation.

"it's a good thing i'm not using it on anyone else, then."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[storiesforallfandoms]

too far ~ jschlatt

word count: 2231

request?: no

description: in which he takes his dickishness a little too far

pairing: jschlatt x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf, angst, use of y/n, schlatt being a dick, insecurities and self...issues (?),

masterlist (one, two, three)

*i read a fic with this premise like a week or two ago but i cannot for the life of me find it anymore and i needed some mean schlatt angst turned fluff so i am writing my own version. if you are the original author this one goes out to you i will tag you if i can find you*

Everyone who knew Schlatt knew that he was sometimes "mean". It was never serious, it was all just meant to be teasing. For the most part, the worst of it went to Minx who was able to match his energy without it ever affecting her. Everyone else just got a few comments every now and then, but never anything incredibly rude.

Until it suddenly got directed all on you.

You had known Schlatt for some time, having met him through his online friend group while gaming one night. You had become acquainted quickly and you found yourself being excited whenever you knew you'd be playing or recording with him. It seemed like he felt the same way, or at least he was friendly and civil. That was until one recording when you were excitedly talking about something, he suddenly piped up to say, "Jesus, do you ever shut the fuck up?"

Everyone was laughing, so you figured it was just a joke, but it took you by surprise. You knew Schlatt was blunt, but it seemed completely out of nowhere when no one else seemed to mind your babble. You chuckled along with everyone, but you found yourself falling silent for the rest of the recording. Some of the others would include you in the conversation, but you only gave short answers.

After that, it seemed like Schlatt would be picking on you more and more. He rarely had anything nice to say to or about you. It became harder and harder to want to do recordings or streams when he was acting like that, and your mutual friends were starting to notice his continued bullying. It made everyone feel uncomfortable, even if he kept insisting it was just jokes.

It all came to a head when you were asked to do one of those "dating shows" on YouTube. It was you, Minx, Emma, and Jaiden, and Schlatt, Ted, Tanner, and Connor, with Jack hosting it. You weren't sure what the rules were or how the game was supposed to go down, but you loved watching the hilarity of other online "dating shows", and couldn't wait to be a part of it. You were a little weary of Schlatt's presence, but there were so many people involved that you figured you wouldn't get the brunt of his insults today.

Jack sent you the link for the Zoom call. You were one of the last people to join the call, so you were immediately met with a cacophony of overlapping voices. You chuckled to yourself at the familiar chaos. You adjusted your volume settings and positioned your webcam before turning it on.

A high pitched scream brought the conversations to a halt.

"What the fuck was that?" Jack said with a laugh.

"I think it was Schlatt," Ted said.

"Yeah it was me. Sorry, I just saw a jumpscare," Schlatt responded.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Minx asked.

"I saw (Y/N)'s ugly mug suddenly join the call and it scared me."

Everyone was silent. Your face burned and tears started to form in your eyes. Your body moved before your brain could register, your hand moving your mouse to click the "End Call" button. The moment everyone's faces disappeared, you allowed yourself to cry.

For all the hurtful stuff Schlatt had said, he had never gone after your appearance. It was one of your biggest insecurities because you felt like you didn't measure up to other female streamers. Sure, that was a cliche insecurity, but it was your truth. You marveled at how pretty all your friends were and would often mentally compare yourself to them. It wasn't something you had spoken publicly about, so obviously Schlatt didn't know he would touch a nerve, but it still felt like an extremely low blow. Especially for it to be the first thing you heard when you turned your camera on.

You sent Jack a message to apologize for leaving, but you told him you didn't feel up to doing the show anymore. He responded almost immediately to let you know that it was okay and he didn't blame you for your decision. You were shutting down your set up when your Discord started ringing; a voice call from Ted.

"Aren't you supposed to be recording?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"We're taking a quick break while Jack decides if he wants Schlatt to compete anymore," Ted explained.

"Don't kick him off just because of me," you said.

"We don't really want him to play after what he said. It was incredibly fucked up and uncalled for."

"He's said worse to Minx."

"Yeah, but he and Minx have an understanding. We've all noticed that he makes fun of you, but you don't respond the way Minx does. I don't know what his problem is recently, but you don't deserve those insults. You're an incredibly kind person, unlike us assholes."

You chuckled through your tears. "You're not an asshole, Ted."

"I am sometimes, don't lie."

"Only a little bit." You wiped the fresh tears from your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. "I don't want to record with Schlatt anymore."

"I understand," Ted said. "I'll let everyone know, too."

"Thank you."

When you and Ted hung up, you sat back in your chair and took a deep breath. The sting from Schlatt's words was still strong, but you also felt some relief in having talking to Ted about it and him assuring you that you wouldn't have to record with Schlatt anymore. It still upset you that Schlatt made such a 180 when it seemed like you were both getting along so well, but you weren't going to wast anymore brain space on him.

Your phone buzzed from a Discord notification. You looked down at the screen to see Schlatt was trying to send you a message. Instead of reading it, you went to his Discord profile and blocked him.

~~~~~~

It was easier than you thought to forget about Schlatt and his insults. All your friends did as you asked didn't invite you to recordings if Schlatt was a part of them, or vice versa with him. You went on to block him on all social media, and even muting his channels on YouTube so you wouldn't risk seeing him in your recommended. It was like he never existed, and you didn't even care.

You were in the middle of editing a video when a knock came at your door. You assumed it was the Uber Eats you had ordered, so you saved your progress and got up to answer. Instead of finding a delivery guy, you came face to face with the man you had been avoiding for weeks.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Wait, better question, how do you know where I live?"

"I bothered Ted until he told me," Schlatt responded.

You rolled your eyes. "Ted's dead to me."

You went to close the door, but Schlatt's hand shot out to block the door. You scowled at him. "Take the hint, Schlatt. I don't want to see you."

"I know you don't, and I get why, but please let me explain and apologize."

"I don't want to hear what you have to say. Honestly, you don't even deserve to take up my time to try and give some shitty explanation for your shitty behavior."

"I know - "

"You really hurt me," you cut him off. "I took the insults in silence because I knew you poked fun at everyone, but they really hurt me. It got to a point where I was dreading having to interact with you every time someone invited to a Discord call and I saw that you were in there too."

"(Y/N) - "

"And then you called me ugly in a call in front of everyone and that hurt the most. I know it shouldn't have given how much else you've said to me, but my looks are one of my biggest insecurities, and I know you probably didn't know that but still, going after how I look was such a low blow. And it hurts so much because I thought we were friends, but suddenly you're insulting me and bullying me at every chance you get, and it almost felt worse than the way you act with Minx so how am I supposed to take it as anything other than you not liking me and - "

Your rambling was finally cut off by Schlatt taking hold of your face and pulling you into him. You were shocked when you felt his lips against yours. Your initial reaction was to pull away and to start yelling at him again, but suddenly your brain switched to tell you lean into it. So you did. You pressed into Schlatt as much as you could; your body against his, your hands on his hoodie, standing on your toes so you could reach him.

Also to your surprise, Schlatt was the one to pull away first. He rested his forehead against yours, keeping his face inches apart from yours.

"That was one way to get me to stop talking," you joked.

He smiled. "Seemed to be the most effective way."

"So, are you about to tell me the reason you were being mean to me is because you liked me? Because if so, that is a very elementary school explanation."

"Unfortunately, that is the reason."

You pulled away from Schlatt and finally gestured for him to come in. You realized you had been standing in the doorway this whole time, and now that you had somewhat calmed down, you figured you'd listen to his explanation. You were much more intrigued now after your kiss, although you were far from completely forgiving him for what had happened.

You led Schlatt to your living room and you both sat down on the couch. You were very much aware of how close you two were sat. His body was inches away from yours. You could be touching him again if you wanted to.

"I was trying to push you away," he said, bringing you back to the topic at hand. "I was afraid you wouldn't like me back, and it felt easier to make you hate me than to risk that rejection."

"No offense, but that's a really stupid idea."

He chuckled. "Yeah, no offense taken because you're right. I should've just talked to you about it like an adult instead of assuming you would've rejected me. I thought the easier route would be to make you hate me, but then that succeeded and I realized how much I missed getting to talk to you. Not to sound too corny or anything, but everything felt empty when you weren't around. I knew I fucked up majorly, and I tried to apologize that night after what happened, but you blocked me on everything and I realized just how far I had actually gone."

You thought back to the call you had with Ted that day when everything had come to a head with Schlatt. "Did you not tell Ted how you felt?"

"Not until I begged him for your address. Listen, I love Ted and all, but the dude has a big fuckin' mouth. He would've let it slip one way or another how I feel about you, and I didn't want that. Actually, no one knew. I kept it to myself completely."

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

He nodded. "I'm more than well aware, yes."

"And you know it's going to take more than just kissing me and apologizing to completely redeem yourself? I understand why you acted the way you did, as stupid as it was, but it still really hurt me. I'm not going to forget everything just because you were being stupid."

"I don't expect you to. All I wanted was to explain myself and hope that you'd give me a second chance. I'm serious, (Y/N), I don't think I can just not have you in my life. If you don't want to date, that's fine. I'm okay with something platonic, as long as I have you."

You smiled and finally dared to reach out and touch him. You took his hand in yours, running your thumb over his knuckles. You then dared to lean forward and capture his mouth with yours in a quick, gentle kiss. When you pulled away, Schlatt had a smile on his face. You mirrored it with a smile of your own.

"You'll have to work for forgiveness," you told him. "You can start by taking me out on a date."

"Done," he said. "Right now?"

You giggled. "Maybe tomorrow. I was actually in the middle of editing a video when you came, and I have Uber Eats on the way."

As if on cue, there was a knock at your door.

"That would be it."

"Can I stay and hang out while you edit?" Schlatt asked.

"Of course. But I'm not sharing my food with you."

"Oh, you have no choice. You invited me in and let me stay, therefore you're sharing your food."

"You know what? Go fuck yourself, I take back everything I said."

You exclaimed and giggled as he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you to him. "Too late! No take backs! You're stuck with me for a very long time, toots."

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Three Small Squeezes

AO3

Leaning on John is one of your favorite positions to chill on the couch. All the guys were muscly, a side effect of their jobs, but something about John brought a layer of softness the others were lacking. Tucked up under one arm with his hand resting on your bent knee, you relaxed for probably an hour.

John watched something on his phone, one headphone in. You scrolled through shorter videos volume low, but loud enough to still hear.

“Today we are making –“

Swipe.

“You may have heard about the newest gadget –“

Swipe.

Ad.

Swipe.

Thirst trap. Ooh, you might watch, you feel John turn his head to look down at your screen. You pause before anything too sexy gets on screen, send it to a friend so you can find it later, like the video, and swipe on.

Your favorite, healthy, couple appears on your screen.

“What’s one thing we do to help keep everything from going off the rails even with four kids?” The husband asks.

“We say I love you. A lot. Sometimes when we can’t speak, we give three quick squeezes.” His wife picks up the telling. “Sometimes in the middle of a kid screaming a hand on yours with three quick squeezes saying I love you helps.”

Before you can scroll John pulls your phone from your hand.

“What the fuck John?” You tip your head back and glare up at him.

He smirks down at you and drops a kiss on your forehead. After messing with your phone for a second, from what you can see he sent the video link in a text, he hands it back.

When his hand settles back on your knee he gives you three quick squeezes. Curious about who he sent the video to, you leave the video app and open your messages. There at the top of the chats is your group chat with all the guys.

Firing off a follow-up text you tell them John sent the link from your phone.

>Sorry about the random video. John stole my phone and sent it.

A chorus of hearts appeared on your message.

Every one of them started doing it though. Simon would give your side three small squeezes with his hand when he pulled you into a side hug. Gary would drop three kisses on your hair or the back of your hand before he left the room. Kyle would tap you three times with a finger to get your attention. Johnny would grab your hand for the sole purpose of giving you three squeezes before pulling you into a hug or onto the couch for a cuddle.

You worried they might want more than you could provide but soaked in the love nonetheless. These men had a hard enough time telling you much about their jobs or lives beyond your observation. Each of them told you ‘I love you’ with three touches at least once each time you saw them.

@backseatsoldier sending loves and kisses your way.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[mullermilkshake]

Flight 694.

With life moving on from horrid memories, an old face makes an appearance on your flight.

Yandere!Levi Ackerman / Fem!Reader DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Non con,Restroom sex,Airplane sex,Sexual acts,Threats to violence,Possessive Levi

<<< For more Levi content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

“Flight 694 to Tokyo is at gate 24.” 

Your eyes darted around the board for your flight, a business trip you had been dying to go on. To get away from your hometown and the drama that came with it.

With nothing but your coat over your arm and a carry on, you took off to your gate. The airport was far busier than you remembered the last time you were here.

More small stores had opened, kids spaces with soft play zones for wary parents to rest their feet and treat themselves to a small coffee before their long awaited vacation. Even one of those popular burger places had found its way down the small strip, with worker ant tourists filtering in and out of its doors. 

You already had everything you needed for the trip. Especially your outfit for the charity dinner you had waited all year for. At least it was one thing He didn’t ruin.

You wandered up to the gate when they were already boarding. You waited to be called after the long string of priority boarding passengers cleared almost half of the lounge. And then they called you. 

You were greeted by the flight attendants with smiles, bowed heads and wishes of a safe travels. The humming of the tarmac rang true to your ears, with switches clicking and a low grumble of background voices and rustling bags. 

It was perfect. The sun was just setting, allowing the rich golden hue of amber and red to settle beautifully along the tree line. You snuggled up your coat to your chin as the chill set in from the acrylic windows, hoping for a blissful sleep and then to wake up to Tokyo coming in quick as the plane landed. 

It was perfect. 

“Excuse me ma’am. Please can you place that bag in the overhead storage? It's our new policy.”

You mumbled under your breath. “Shit.” You collected your bag, standing up to squeeze past the other passengers. 

“I can do that for you.”

Shaking your head, you stood in the aisle barely catching your balance. “That’s alright, I got it.” 

The attendant smiled, nodded and left to help a crying child. Your bag only just fit in and you cursed at the way the locks never fit properly, but they did at last. 

But before you could sit down, That was when you saw Him.  

Sitting a few rows behind. He hadn’t seen you, but it sent you into a frenzy of panic. You ducked down, eyes wide and watery, moving around to find an attendant. The same attendant that had closed the door of the plane.

You grabbed at her and she almost screamed, placing a hand on her chest and a scowl that would incapacitate someone. 

Your voice was only just cohesive. “I need to get off the plane right now.” 

“Ma’am?”

You didn’t stand, but you kept looking back towards the row where you’d seen him. You knew he was real, he wasn’t a figment of your imagination like your therapist had said. He was talking to someone. Unless the plane had a joint hallucination, you just knew he was real. 

“Please. Let me off.” You said that more firmly, pointed and perhaps more aggressive than you should have. 

“The plane is ready to take off, please put your seatbelt on. Have you had a drink today ma’am?” 

The attendant wasn’t pleased, tapping her foot with a hand on her hip like she was your mother catching you out past curfew. 

The question had you dumbfounded. You? Drinking? “N-no I’m not- please listen to me.”

She shook her head, pointing down the rows much more stern than before. “If you don’t sit down and stop causing a stir, I’ll have you arrested ma’am.” 

Shit.

You nodded absentmindedly, unaware of what you should do, but you knew for sure he’d seen you by now. He must have. But what could he do on a plane? It was getting off you that should worry you. 

You could make a scene, big enough that they’d have to restrain you, but there was nothing to stop him from volunteering himself off too. It was better to go back wasn’t it? Put your head down so you could never make eye contact and just pretend he was never even there?

There were flight attendants everywhere, if he touched you or tried to hurt you like before, then they would arrest him right? But that reassuring thought didn’t stop your heart thumping in your chest and bringing on the sweats across your brow. Everything had a static tone to it. 

“Are you okay?” The muffled voice brought you out of your hole. 

The passenger next to you, sat with what looked like her husband, already out of it, snoring away without a care. 

“I’ve just seen someone I haven’t seen in a while.” You said, hoping she could shield you should you need her.

God you were a shitty person. 

“Old boyfriend?- I know the feeling. I had this one guy from high school-“

You zoned out. Why could she have just read your mind? Know how dangerous He really was, go and tell him off and chuck him off the plane like the motherly instinct she gave off would. 

You were on the verge of tears. There was no way you could rest. No way you could sleep knowing He was only metres away, waiting for an opportunity. 

The plane rumbled, shaking away as it turned on the tarmac, vibrating and clonking once it picked up speed and tilted backwards for take off. And now there was no way out. 

“You poor thing.” The woman said once the seatbelt light was off. “You’re shaking. Was he not the best person?” 

She placed a caring hand on your shoulder. You kept your head down. Not the best person? He was hell incarnate for what he did. What he continued to do. 

“No.” That was all you said, hating to divulge more, his name leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

Two hours left. Two hours and the fight really begins. Two hours, and you needed the toilet. Fuck. You didn’t want to get up, move and make yourself a moving target, but it was beginning to hurt.  

Just keep your head down.  

Don’t look.  

Don’t think.  

Just keep walking and lock the door. 

The door to the toilet was down the end, past the row you never looked at. The light above flickered like a stupid horror film. A place where all things went bad without a single attendant there. This didn’t settle your stomach, not one bit. You rushed into the miniscule toilet and slammed the door, locking it and leaning against it. 

Your breathing was tinny inside that sardine can. You tried to ease it, taking in air as deeply as you could, trying to make your brain understand that you were halfway there. But amidst the uneasiness of the situation. The relief you underwent was something extraordinary. 

Click. 

The lock mechanism fiddled, shaking away as it pulled and opened. You barely got your hands washed when you noticed. Time stopped, blurred, slow motion in a way only a movie could portray. And He was in the room so quickly, it knocked the wind from you. 

He was so close now.

“L-Levi-”

His hands clasped around your head. One at the base of your neck, and the other wrapped tightly over your mouth it made your cheeks bulge. You were pulled down so quick, bending backwards as he was over you, your head bumped the wall and sent a shock down your spine.

His mouth was close to your ear, but you could barely hear him over the plane’s engine. “You have no clue, how long I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to talk to you on your own like this.”

You whimpered for only a second, but he squeezed harder, your teeth dug into your lip. “If you make a sound, or move the way I don’t like. You know what I’ll do.”

You did know. Just like last time he caught you. All those, the blood, screams. You didn’t know how he managed to get away with it. Just that he did. You could never get the char of singed skin and hair out of your nose. If he snapped again, he would definitely kill you, hijack the plane too.

Maybe a watery death over the sea wouldn't be so bad.

“I thought you’d left me for good. And my surprise to see you on the same flight was just meant to be.”

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, but his face was so close. “We don't have long. We can finish this at the hotel. Don’t do something you’ll regret, Love. I won’t have it.”

You remained still, his hand came away from your neck and you heard his belt buckle and he pushed you up against the wall. You stiffened up involuntarily, that came with the territory. It was going to happen and you couldn't do anything. The grip was immense, but like he isn't using any strength at all.

“What really gets at me is this mouth of yours. You caused all sorts of trouble.” 

It happened all so fast. The large mirror inches away from your face caught sight of it and all you could do was stare at the two of you. He bent you over, though only slightly so there was nothing to hold on to. All of this with one hand.

You didn't have time to think, your pants and underwear were down to your ankles, the scuzzy lamp on the wall caused the shadows to laugh at you in a humiliating fashion. You bet these very bulbs witnessed the mile high club, but not something so sinister, deranged.

You couldn't speak, your thirst ramped up against the dry air and sweated your lips behind his hand that still held you silent. 

“You forget your place.’ His crotch pressed up against you, hard, throbbing, ready to violate. “All I ever wanted to do was have you by my side. And you can't even do that right.” 

The tip of his cock sprang free, slapping against your thigh. You couldn't even begin to try to move. “Why do I even try sometimes? Do you know how many women would die for the position you're in? And you just squander it.”

He pushed his cock in slowly, the friction burning at the dryness. You gasped, nostrils flaring and seeing every second of it. 

“Enjoying the view? God knows that I am.” 

He fucked you slowly at first, rustling with your shirt to get under it, pulling the top of your bra under you breast to knead it between his fingers. The pressure stung, an overstimulated sensation that kept up constantly while his cock penetrated you. He may as well have fucked your very soul, because it would have been no less humiliating. 

His groaning got louder. “Shit.” 

He mewled your name, pumping back and forth into your pussy, the wet sound came next and he chuckled. His laugh wasn't something out of a romantic comedy. It was demonic.

“You always suck me in just right. I don't have to even try and you get so wet for me. This is why we’re perfect for eachother, I tell you this every time. But you don't listen-” 

He rammed his cock inside, you screamed into his hand. He laughed again. “There’s that life in you I was looking for, save it for the bedroom. I wont have you coming on my cock in such a filthy place.” 

Knock, Knock. “Excuse me? Is everything alright in there?” 

Levi pulled you close to him, his breath tickling your ear, rapid breaths and curses. “Don’t you say anything, or she’ll get it. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly, his hard cock still inside you. He leant over and pulled the door open a fraction. “Yes?”

The flight attendant tried to look in but the gap was too small. “I’ve had some passengers saying you've been in here for a while. I was coming to check everything was okay.”

“It’s my wife. She gets travel sick. Don’t ya honey?”

Wife? Honey? His voice was smothered in overly sweetness you'd never heard him express. But you didn't have a second, nails dug into your puffy thigh, he trusted his hips hard and a yelp escaped you. 

“I think she’s over the worst of it.” His smile was deranged in a welcoming way, and the way he scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed churned your stomach. “We should be out shortly. I apologise for the wait.”

The door slammed and his face dropped, neutral and unsettling. “I’ll find you after, wait for me in the lounge.” Levi pulled out and zipped up his pants. “Don’t make me look for you.”    

Then he left you there. Underwear still down on the dirty floor, dignity in ribbons and the threat to your life ever present.

There was no way you were getting out without him. 

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[yeonzzzn]

AM I WRONG FOR CRAVING ILLEGAL CAR RACER ShyBestfriend!HEESEUNG WITH UNDERCUT, LEATHER JACKET who notices you standing next to your shitty boyfriend who came to watch the race but dragged you with him. You're shocked to find your best friend in this situation, and before the race even begins, he stares at you—no, STARES at you—gets into his supercar, gives you a sly wink, and then takes off at top speed. And after winning, he chooses you to be 'one of his girls' for tonight, linking his hand with yours, dragging you into his car, as you boyfriend watches helpless. (can I be 🌸anon please 🥺?)

NO STOP BC I LOVE THIS??? LIKE HELLO?? this is perfect??? street racer heeseung is a WEAKNESSSSSS. also yes of course you can be 🌸 anon🩷

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

one of your girls tonight: lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader word count: 1.3k

The last thing both you and Heeseung thought you’d see tonight was, well, each other. 

Heeseung had just pulled his leather jacket on his body and zipped it up when he glanced out into the crowd and saw you standing there looking right back at him, eyes wide and filled with surprise. 

What were you doing here? 

It was the question both of you were asking each other at this moment. 

Heeseung apologizes with his eyes, pleading with you to forgive him, but you aren’t being so forgiven. 

You pulled your phone from your back pocket, sending a flurry of text messages to your best friend. 

You: WHAT THE F U C K LEE HEESEUNG You: When were you going to tell me you raced ILLEGALLY?!? You: You’re so fucking dead after this race.  Heeseung: oops?

You sent daggers in his direction, dropping your eyes back to your phone and thumbs typing fast. 

Heeseung honestly was trying to not laugh and smirk at you, seeing you being so protective over him was pulling at his heartstrings. 

Heeseung: Before you send whatever paragraph about being pissed off at me, I am sorry I kept this a secret.  Heeseung: But why the fuck are YOU here? You: bf likes these races…dragged me alone. 

Heeseung didn’t respond after that, locking his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

You glanced back up at your best friend, worry written all over your face. The Heeseung you knew was anything but an illegal racer. He was shy and clingy to your side at the college or when you’d both be out and about. So to see him in this setting…

“Who would have thought it,” your boyfriend snickers, wrapping his arm over your shoulders, “Didn’t think Lee would be into illegal racing.” 

Heeseung glared at your boyfriend and how close he was standing next to you. He never liked him, he was terrible to you and treated you like shit. The number of times Heeseung wants to rip you from his grasp and show you what it feels to actually be in a loving relationship…

Heeseung was so in love with you that it made him crazy. Your boyfriend knew it too. He knew Heeseung raced and hated him just as much. He brought you here on purpose. 

The officials for the race started shouting orders for every racer to get ready. Heeseung ran his hand through his hair, pulling back the front pieces to reveal his undercut that made every female in the crowd go crazy. 

You wanted to bite each of their heads off for screaming for him. Because deep down, you were in love with him too. Heeseung was a good-looking man, you don’t blame them for being weak in the knees for him. 

The other racers started pointing at other females in the crowd, picking who they would take home with them after the race. Heeseung just scoffs at them as he stands beside his car, ready to climb in before looking back into the crowd at you, seeing how your boyfriend was clinging to you but your eyes were on him—HIM—not your boyfriend. 

Heeseung knew what he had to do, but first, he needed to win the race. 

So he climbed in, starting the car and mentally preparing himself. He’s won plenty of races before, but there was more on the line tonight than just winning: It was you. 

A girl wearing a sexy skimpy outfit, walked into the middle of the street, waving her hands in the air with the flags blowing in the wind. She smiled wide, looking at each car. 

Time slowed for Heeseung just then, he looked back into the crowd, staring directly at you. He smirks and gives you a wink, seeing out of his peripheral vision the girl waves the flags down, signaling for the race to start. He takes off at top speed, eyes now back on the road. Heeseung swears he saw you blushing before he looked away. 

The track was like any normal circular track, except ya know, everyone was here on the track illegally. Heeseung just had to push forward, stay ahead of the crowd, and hug the inner corner of the track when he turned. His heart was pumping faster than it normally would, but how could it not? You were the prize. 

Heeseung stayed ahead for most of the race, taking that corner with ease but his rival racer came up on his close, getting ahead by a few inches. Heeseung glances at the rival racer, seeing him smirking and laughing, giving Heeseung the middle finger. 

He was pissed now, adding another reason to win this race. 

They took the second corner. The clock was ticking. His heart was racing. You were waiting. You were waiting for him. You covered your hand over your mouth and glued your eyes on Heeseung’s car as he slowly gained up on the other driver inch by inch. The finish line was fast approaching, but it felt like a thousand years to you and Heeseung both. 

Heeseung barely got a couple of inches ahead of the other driver, his car passing through the finish line first. 

“FUCK YEAH!” Heeseung screams, bumping his fist into the roof of his car and turning into the grassy area spinning in one full circle before coming to a stop. 

“Show off,” you mumbled to yourself, tears in your eyes. He did it. He won. And you got to witness it. 

Heeseung climbed out of the window, watching as the rest of the racers fasted the finish line, then ran across the street. 

You pushed your boyfriend off you, placing your hands on the cool railing of the fence, lifting your leg to it, and pushing yourself over. You felt it deep in your heart that Heeseung was running to you. His heart calling for you like yours was for him. 

“YN!” your boyfriend yelled, trying to grab you by the belt loop of your jean shorts but barely missing. 

Your feet had just touched the ground when Heeseung was two steps away and then none. His body crashed to yours, arms wrapped around your waist and lifting you up. Your arms wrapped around his neck in the same motion as his lips connecting to yours. 

Heeseung’s fangirls cheered, and the other racers chanted his name. Heeseung never took home a girl after a race, but tonight was changing that. All because of you. 

He felt dizzy standing here kissing his best friend—kissing you. It felt like a dream. 

“Break up with him,” he whispered between the kisses, setting you back down to the ground and cupping your face, never once leaving your lips, “Date me instead.” 

You could hear your boyfriend screaming at you and Heeseung. Curses leave his lips and struggling to jump the fence because of the other drivers keeping him from doing so. Heeseung was thankful. He didn’t want to have to flat out your boyfriend in front of everyone, that would be embarrassing. 

You finally pulled from Heeseung’s lips, taking his hands in yours and looking back at your boyfriend, “It’s over, you’re a shitty person and I didn’t deserve how you treated me.” 

His face reddened with anger, but Heeseung found it hilarious. He pulled you to his chest, giving your now ex a smirk as he dragged you off down the street and to his car. 

Heeseung helped you climb in, then rushed around and got in, pulling you back towards him for a kiss. 

He finally got his “One of his girls for the night” except you’re now one of his girls for the rest of time. Because he isn’t letting you go. Heeseung could see it now, all the future races and seeing you standing in the crowd cheering for him and waiting for him. He couldn’t be happier.

—perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz

[jjenthusee]

Where We Are

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: honestly this has been marinating in my mind for a while because a while ago I saw @sunnie-angel post this small writing (linked here) and I wanted to write something for it, but I haven’t gotten to sit down and complete something :( BUT i finally sat down and wrote because i needed something as a break from my end of semester stress from school :D i would also recommend reading the linked post first so it gives some context and insight to why i was so drawn to it and how it heavily inspired this fic. ENJOY and like, comment if your comfortable 💐

Summary: How do you live with the memories of Jason after his death as Robin?

Tags: AAAANGST, have a nice day :)

Word Count: 1.6k

A boy.

Full of so much life and raw emotion, who stood against the worst of Gotham.

He saw so much of its poison. It struck him, filled his veins, but he fought every day against the pain. Only when he finally left did Gotham return its thanks.

Everyday was torture. The memorials, the photographs, the graffiti. Streets littered with “We remember you.” Every waking second was a reminder that he was gone.

No more late night chats, meeting at the library, leaning against his shoulder.

You can still taste the bile that consumed your throat when you opened your door to Alfred standing there with the most chilling expression. Once he said your name in such a matter-of-fact tone, you knew. Your heart ached the same way it did when your thoughts brought you back to your worst fears, maybe it ached worse but that memory is buried in the back of your mind.

You slammed the door on Alfred. Grabbing your phone, calling one of the most recent phone numbers in your call history. It rang and rang. Nothing.

You left voicemail after voicemail. Begging, yelling, crying into the ending message to pick up.

You couldn’t walk down the road that led to the same library you spent all summer with him. The humid air beating down on you before the air conditioning sent a chill down your back. Scanning your library cards, returning books, letting Jason give you recommendations.

The memory made your eyes water.

You did everything to avoid it all.

Taking the longer path to school, playing music in your ears loud enough to drown out the passerby’s conversations about how tragic such a thing could happen to a young boy, avoiding any sort of color that matched the suit he was so proud of.

The same one that took him.

The more you avoided, the more the image of him chased you. Billboards, coffee cups, baseball caps. Robin was everywhere.

Until you saw a memorial video that some Gothamite made on social media.

It broke you one more time.

You screamed and screamed until your voice couldn’t. He was gone. Your Jason was truly gone.

You couldn’t get mad at him cheating at board games, you wouldn’t hear his laugh, no more asking him to drop off food while he was on patrol.

The world took the other half that completed you.

When the pain numbed out and you felt the guilt of your actions, you apologized to Alfred. You got back on track for school, the world wasn’t better, but it didn’t weigh on you as much.

You finally took a walk down the road you didn’t dare look down. You held your breath when you crossed over the invisible line, taking you down a familiar path, but with only one pair of shoes on the sidewalk this time.

You walked with your hands clenched, before you found yourself in front of one of the small memorial stands. A tiny Robin keychain stared back at you. You paid the seller with cash and continued on your walk.

The air hung heavy in your lungs as you stopped. Coming face to face with Jason’s favorite gargoyle that sat in front of the library steps. You fought the tears with lowered eyebrows and a stiff expression to place the key chain on the base of the statue. You grabbed a permanent marker out of your bag to write in big bold letters, “We Remember You.”

It was sloppy writing, but it captured your unrelenting, unapologetic emotions that Jason had always told you was why he loved being your friend.

As the weeks went by, more tiny Robins appeared on the gargoyle. Flowers were placed and you finally listened to the city mourn your friend.

Eventually you graduated, took a job at the library because you didn’t know anything about your future into being a young adult. Life was simple, it was enough.

You finally felt some stability on the anniversary of Jason’s death before you heard talk of a new Robin. That a replacement had been made.

You were at a rage again.

When times were too tough or when you just didn’t know how to handle yourself, you called Jason’s phone. Leaving voicemails admitting how much you missed him, how mad you were that he couldn’t even wait until you were able to beat how many books he checked out at the library, now it wasn’t fair to continue the competition by yourself. How mad you were that they didn’t retire the Robin suit after he sacrificed everything for it.

You didn’t even question how his phone line was still running as long as you could leave more voicemails.

When your rage started to cool, you joined Alfred one morning while the cold air chilled your face. Alfred handed you a hot tea that you refused to take, but Alfred always managed to get his way. It brought a smile to your face when you realized Jason used to do the same thing.

You walked with him down your familiar path to work. Before Alfred could say anything, your body unconsciously walked up to a new park bench. It wasn’t worn, but freshly placed with a shiny plaque that you couldn’t move your eyes from.

“In memory of Jason Todd-Wayne, a son who is loved as much as he loved books.” You quietly read.

You couldn’t move. You didn’t say anything to Alfred as he handed you a handkerchief when you felt the tears drop down your chin. The two of you just stood there, admiring the wood, the brass, and the memories.

When Alfred said his goodbyes, you stayed there. Afraid to sit down, but afraid to leave.

You spent the following anniversary standing next to the bench, next to the one place that was so precious to your childhood. The fear prevented you from taking a seat.

By the next anniversary, you managed to sit on the bench. Alfred visited again, shining the plaque and wiping down the park bench. You didn’t say much, but it was comfortable and breathing wasn’t that difficult that year.

By the most recent anniversary, you were starting to spend every important milestone at Jason’s bench. When you got your degree in library science, you sat with your cap and gown. When you got a job promotion at the library, you came to sit and watch the sunset.

Life was content as you passed Jason’s bench and gargoyle on your way to and from work. It was a part of you.

One late night as you locked up the library, making sure all the part-timers and volunteers made their way out safely and secured the doors, you said goodbye to your coworkers as you made your way down the worn steps.

Your feet ached from the new shoes that didn’t support you enough, but your walk back to your apartment would be short to endure the pain. The fatigue could wait until you walked through the front door.

You trudged through the familiar path, passing the same trees, shops, gargoyle. Fifteen paces, another thirty, but you couldn’t continue to count your steps when you saw someone facing Jason’s bench.

A tall man, large build, covered in a large hoodie with the hood raised. Only a couple strands of hair stuck out the opening, but you couldn’t see a clear face.

It was eerie how still the figure was, the small fog of breaths were the only indicator that the person was living.

You quickly moved to the edge of the sidewalk as you distanced yourself from the large man. You held your breath as you briskly walked passed, but a small ache hit your chest. A tiny feeling, so minuscule that you tried to talk yourself into not looking back.

Why would you do that late at night in Gotham?

Two paces, five paces. You paused and turned your head over your shoulder.

They were gone. Only a clear yellow street light shining down on Jason’s bench.

Weird.

But you weren’t going to find out what that was. You paced back to your apartment, throwing your jacket off, letting your aching muscles relax on the couch. You sighed as you couldn’t get the figure out of your head.

By the morning, you woke up early to get some breakfast on your way to work. A quick drink and some food to help give you some energy. You said ‘Good morning’ to the owners, passed by other early commuters.

You held your warm drink, breathing in morning air and taking your breakfast to-go, until you sat at Jason’s bench. It had been a while since you got to enjoy a meal there.

You sat, listening to the birds, seeing morning joggers pass, kids making their way to school, and you finished your meal. You got up to throw your trash away and took one last glance at the plaque.

You memorized the phrase engraved on there, but still took the time to read through every word. You took your hand out of your warm jacket pocket and felt your hand graze over the cold brass, your fingers feeling the grooves and the strict maintenance courtesy of Alfred.

In one last sigh, you turned to get to work, tapping the base of the gargoyle before the steps, happily humming to the calm start to your morning. Then another ache hit you just before your last step.

You turned around, but all the people hanging around the block were further away, enjoying the company of others or taking a stroll. You glanced around, unsure of what you were looking for.

But your search was interrupted by the cheerful voice of your coworker making his way up the steps.

You pushed down the feeling of the unknown, but some days you always felt like maybe Jason was with you, maybe from his bench built in his memory or the fact that this place was important to the two of you, but you always knew you were going to carry a portion of Jason with you.

In some comforting way, you told yourself that maybe your Jason never left.

[unicornsannie]

Ateez -Twitter link(Part 2)

Hyung line MDNI

A/N: .Part 2 because it's fun and horny at the same time

Hyung line(part 1)

Maknae line(part 1)

Maknae line(part 2)

Hyung line (part 3)

Maknae line (part 3)

-Seonghwa-

He is a loving person even if he has sex with you.You are on top of him in a mating press position while he works his cock like a drill inside you.You love his soft side as he holds you close to him.With high socks, he will be gentle with you and be patient"You are my love, my precious gem. No one can replace you".🎀

-Hongjoong-

Dilf! Hongjoong like to spend all his money on you.Sometimes he will buy a pair of underwear with a cartoon pattern like Hello Kitty because it looks cute when you wear it.Cute??well... Hongjoong is so horny that he can't hold his cock in his panties until he decides to fuck you with you still wearing those panties.🎀

-Yunho-

Yunho is an ass guy..What I mean is that he likes your small body size when compared to him.He'll crush you if he has the chance until you can't walk But you're too cute for him and he can only eat your ass because he thinks you can't take all his cock.🎀

-Yeosang-

Pity you because you fight with your boyfriend so you don't treat him until you go to school.You thought he would be begging to talk to him when you received a message from him but you saw it was in the form of a video.When you opened it you screamed and threw your phone.You are embarrassed and ask permission to go to the toilet, not to get rid of shame but to finger yourself in the toilet with the video he sent.🎀

[writingstoraes]

the other side 🥡

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!horner!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this was actually a request but it somehow got lost in my inbox so im so sorry to whoever requested this 😭 i hope you still see this though and i hope u like it! lmk what u guys think hehehe

about: fans adore your support for ferrari, given your dad is literally their rival's team principal.

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 1,201,294 others

ynhorner had the best view at monaco 🏎️

(ps. i hope my dad isn't using his instagram right now)

christianhorner I have no words....

ynhorner see u at home 😘

redgirlz LMAOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY

maxverstappen ??? Hello

ynhorner hi, max :)

daylightcharles if years ago you told me christian horner's own daughter would be openly supporting ferrari i would have laughed in your face

hamilecs not charles liking this 😭

sainzlines QUEEN DO U PLAN ON WATCHING SOMEDAY AT FERRARI'S GARAGE 🎤🎤

ynhorner i would if i'd still be my dad's daughter afterwards

ynhorner

liked by christianhorner, landonorris, pierregasly, and 1,028,248 others

ynhorner i may scream "forza ferrari sempre" during race weekends, but i am my dad's daughter still 🫡

therealgerihalliwell There we go, Dad was waiting for you to wear that 😊

ilpredestinato she is me and i am her (i too, would support ferrari to hell and back)

lovesgasly my ferrari queen ❤️

britcedesbros LOVE THE JACKET drop the link pls 🙏

ynhorner dad brought it home after seeing me check out another ferrari cap 😆

ynhorner recently added to her instagram story!

ynhorner

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, therealgerihalliwell, and 1,019,294 others

ynhorner clearing my gallery so enjoy this race week’s dump! life's good when i'm not torn between two teams; i can bust my lungs out to "super max" and forza ferrari my way every sunday ❤️

queensland mother pls tell me that man is just an uber driver

charlierari That's literally Charles 😭 loverslane reaching we can't even see the face???

paddockgirlie MAM IS THAT CHARLES PLS SPEAK INTO THE MIC

ynhorner i think my lawyer says i'd rather not say anything 😅

maxverstappen Glad to know "Super Max" is on your playlist

ynhorner are you kidding? i play that when i drive so i can get to where i'm going faster christianhorner Your karting races are not an excuse for you to overtake whenever you want, Y/N ynhorner it's okay i'm driving a ferrari anyway :D

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 1,503,994 others

ynhorner okay maybe there's another reason why i love ferrari, but it's really not my fault they signed someone so breathtaking and loveable to be their driver 🤷‍♀️

merchamilton someone check up on christian quick

sainzzzzham Y/N IS UR DAD OKAY 😭

ynhorner oh don't worry about him, i'm sure he'll be fine!

charles_leclerc Saw the sign today, apparently that's why you sent me out to buy red poster board?

ynhorner yes, gotta stick to my ferrari girl agenda

paddocklovez MY NEW PARENTS ❤️

maxverstappen Finally, growing tired of hiding Charles when he visits the garage 😐

christianhorner So you were in on this? maxverstappen For legal reasons, I will be blocking you.

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

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant (lmk if anyone else wants to be part of my taglist!)

notes: tysm for reading <3

[makeyoumine69]

Flesh n' Bones | Hospital AU (INTRO)

PAIRING: Doctor!Patrick Bateman x gn!Nurse!Reader

SUMMARY: My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street in New York City. I work as a surgeon at St. Pierce's Hospital—one of the most upscale medical centers in Manhattan—which happens to be owned by my father. And even though I hate my job, sometimes I can find a little bit of fun in making the experience of my patients in the hospital really unforgettable. Not to mention the dozens of missing nurses who definitely regretted crossing the threshold of St. Pierce's Hospital, but who cares—I was the best thing that ever happened to them.

CONTAINS: Swearing, medical procedures, evil plans, gaslighting, pain, blood and injury, interns & internships, power dynamics, flirting, perversion, pet names, Patrick Bateman's POV.

WORDS: 2.4k

A/N: Hello my dears! This story is based on Hospital AU by @peepoo79! Since the first day I saw her Hospital AU comic I was obsessed with this idea so I decided to write it! Since I am not a doctor myself, some things might not be that accurate to medical standards, but I am always open to critique. As always, I hope you enjoy it! Also, many thanks to @mothhmannn for the amazing Patrick art!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

October 28, 1987.

Today started so shitty that I didn't even want to go to work, but how could I? I was a fucking surgeon who was supposed to save lives, and when I finally arrived at St. Pierce's Hospital, several nurses crowded around me and started bitching about some shitty stuff I didn't even care about.

"Dr. Bateman, your intern has arrived and is waiting for you in your office," one of the nurses said, handing me a folder of papers. "They seem to be very shy, so please treat them right."

Scowling, I took the papers and nodded. "Uh…Thank you."

Without further ado, I walked past another nurse and down the long corridors, avoiding all of my coworkers as I tried to concentrate on the music blaring from my Walkman headphones. Stopping at the door to my office, I made sure my hair was neatly slicked back before opening the door and stepping inside to see a beautiful person sitting in the chair. The blue medical uniform fit them so well that I even wanted to compliment them, but I stopped myself and just offered them a handshake instead.

"Well, hello there, my name is Dr. Bateman," I smiled and continued to examine my new plaything. "It's...uh...nice to see some young blood in our hospital these days."

You were embarrassed so quickly, probably from such a warm welcome, which was more of an exception for me than a regular thing.

"Thank you, Dr. Bateman...it's an honor to be your intern," you replied politely, trying to hide your nervousness as your hands visibly shook. "This hospital is so...amazing! Literally everything I have seen so far is amazing...including this office!"

The office did look luxurious. Everything screamed wealth and prestige, including the wooden desk and a high-end clock on it, the way you looked at the white leather couch in the corner of the room probably sent shivers down your spine, and somehow I really hoped it did.

"So...when can we start?" You asked as you watched me flip through your portfolio, my face stoic, blank, and absolutely unreadable.

As I stopped flipping through the documents and frowned to add some tension between us, I looked at you stealthily out of the corners of my eyes, and when I saw you chewing on your lower lip, I smiled in wicked satisfaction, but that smile never reached my eyes.

"It's very inspiring that you're so eager to get started," I said, placing several pages on the desk, then picking up my Montblanc pen to make some notes. "I see you've been studying pretty well...considering your grades."

Another shy chuckle fell from your lips at my words. "Oh, I did my best," you replied, settling more comfortably in your chair. "Although I didn't really want to reflect on my college years."

"Why?" I asked, writing down all the personal information I could get from your file, including your address, phone number, blood type...

"It was..." your voice wavered and you paused, causing me to look up at you again. "...hard as hell."

"As it should be. Our jobs require hard work as we carry a huge responsibility on our shoulders," I grinned, closing the folder before I could see the name of the college.  "So where did you study exactly?"

Just as you were about to answer, a loud knock on the door rang through the office and I couldn't help but grumble in anger.

Can I have a break, for fuck's sake!

"Come in," I almost barked, my attention shifting away from you as I saw a nurse - one of the hottest hardbodies in our hospital - walk in. "Courtney? What happened?"

"Dr. Bateman..." She walked over to my desk, completely ignoring your presence. 

"Yes, Courtney?" My patience was about to explode if she didn't answer right away.

"I know you told us not to bother you with non-emergent cases, but other surgeons are busy," she stammered as our gazes met, her blue eyes seeming to brighten even more. "We have a girl whose hand is so full of broken glass, can you please examine her?"

I sighed before glancing quickly at you, a little impressed that you still hadn't said a word. "Does she have insurance? How old is she?"

"Uh," Courtney hiccuped, looking at the patient's medical card. "I checked her insurance, it's valid and... she's nineteen."

"Nineteen?" I replied, suddenly feeling excited. "Well, I think this can be a good start for your internship. What do you think?"

Courtney seemed to finally notice that we were not alone, her plump lips pursed back into a thin line, and I really wanted to laugh at her reaction, but I told myself to stay professional. 

"I'm ready when you are, Dr. Bateman," your suddenly confident voice sounded so challenging that it struck a chord in my chest and brought back a long forgotten feeling of thrill. "I'm sure we'd make a great team under your guidance."

How sweet.

I managed to hold back puke at such a silly, saccharine statement. It reminded me of the cliché every doctor used whenever someone asked them why they chose to work in a hospital.

'Oh, we want to save people's lives! And we're not doing it because doctors have almost the highest salaries in the country!'

I grinned insistently, reveling in my own sense of superiority.  "All right then," I stood up and put on my doctor's coat over my custom-made scrubs with my initials on them. "Courtney, give the medical card to the intern."

The woman froze in shock. "But...but I thought I would assist you..."

I rolled my eyes as I checked myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of my scrubs and pulling up the sleeves a bit to reveal my Rolex. "I think I made it very clear that your help won't be needed this time.”

If we were alone, I would probably just boff her before doing my work and that would help me get rid of her until the next time, but hell no, now I had a pain in the ass. And why should I have to teach an intern when I didn't even ask for one?

Meanwhile, you were waiting for me at the door, holding a medical card to your chest as if Courtney or I were about to snatch it from your hands. After I was completely satisfied with my appearance, I pinned my ID badge to my chest and walked to the door, trying not to stare too much at Courtney's ass while she was doing something at my desk that I never really bothered to know.

"You know what," I stopped suddenly before leaving. "Wait for me here," the blonde nurse turned to look at me, still bent over the table. "We'll discuss your new assignment."

A few minutes later, we finally entered the Surgery Division, and since you were a newbie here, I had to guide you all the way, telling you some things from time to time, and at some point I realized that I didn't really hate it, because I could blather on about being a super professional surgeon, and this whole place being mine.

Just like the whole hospital.

"I think this is our ward," I muttered and opened the door to let you in. " C'mon, don't be shy." I pushed you forward a bit before closing the door behind you.

The patient—a young red-haired girl with big green eyes whose tight top stuck to her chest so that her nipples poked out—looked at us the moment we entered the ward. 

"Oh, finally," she mumbled in sheer annoyance, her right hand covered in blood-stained bandages. "I was beginning to think everyone had forgotten about me."

Still nervous, you cleared your throat and quickly looked down at the medical card. "Sorry for the long wait, Miss...Miss Ray," you managed to smile, even though you looked like a patient who was afraid to get treatment, but not her, "My name is (y/n) and this is Dr. Bateman, he's one of the best surgeons in this hospital."

One of the best?

Your slightly incorrect comment made me furrow my brow, but in the next second I was smiling seductively at the girl whose scrutinizing look I couldn't miss. She was pretty attractive, hell, just the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra made her attractive. 

With practiced ease, I put on medical gloves after washing my hands very meticulously. Then I glanced at the patient's medical card, not taking it in my hands, but letting you hold it for me.

"Can I take a look?" I finally asked, taking a seat next to the examination table and putting the mask on. Carefully I began to unfold the bandages, the little whimpering the girl made gave me undeniable pleasure. "Well, that doesn't look too bad," I said when I could finally see the wound, and several pieces of glass had sunk quite deep into her flesh. "How did you manage that?"

The girl blushed as I began to examine her forearm, moving higher up to her shoulder, though it wasn't really necessary. I just loved how soft her skin was, as much as I could tell by feeling it through the elastic material of my gloves.

"I...I accidentally broke the mirror." She replied, her breathing uneven and her pulse quickening as I took a moment to check her. "My name is Liza, by the way."

I chuckled charmingly before turning to look at you, as you stood behind my back, watching my work very intently. "Can you bring me forceps? And...a scalpel?"

"Scalpel?" You replied a little confused.

"Yes," I confirmed and repositioned Liza's arm for better access. "And I'll also need a suture kit."

The girl tensed at my words that I would need a scalpel. "Is it...necessary?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, asking her a silent question while you busied yourself with preparing the instruments. 

"A scalpel...are you going to make an incision?" Liza asked, giving me a pleading glare, her fear was palpable in the air and I couldn't help but savor it.

"I just want all the instruments to be close by in case I have a need for them, that's all. Now please relax." I murmured this with fake sympathy before resuming the examination, pressing down on one of the shards and making Liza whimper. "Shh, it's okay."

The redhead frowned in pain. "It hurts...doctor...it hurts so much!"

When I heard you return, I removed my fingers from the wound. "All right, no nerve damage and that's good." I smiled, obviously lying, my hand was already extended, ready to take the forceps.

"Your forceps, doctor," the way you said 'doctor' made my eyes glow with a mischievous spark. "Clean and sterilized, just like the scalpel and suture kit."

"Very well," I replied, feeling a chill in the metal in my hand. "Put them here," I tapped the spot on the examination table, wondering how you would do that. "And where's your mask?"

Confused, you stuttered. "Oh...yeah...sorry," you mumbled in embarrassment before putting on a mask. "I'm still a little nervous."

Liza knitted her eyebrows in a skeptical way that almost made me burst out laughing.

Okay, now I'm really starting to like this.

"Don't worry, my pill fairy," I watched you place a metal tray with instruments on the spot I showed you. "It's your first day in the hospital...it's...always a little nerve wracking."

As soon as I said it, you stopped in your tracks, and even though your face was covered by the mask, I was pretty sure you were so damn embarrassed that I was going to burn my finger off your cheek. You didn't make any comments though, which made me a little frustrated, but I didn't show it, I took the forceps more comfortably in my hand and began to remove the broken glass from Liza's shaky arm. The way I used the instruments was always mesmerizing - a work of art - as some nurses said, including Courtney, but today I was trying my best because I wanted to impress you. Shard by shard, I took them all out without causing any pain, something I usually couldn't find anything to be proud of.

"Done," I muttered, throwing the last piece of glass into the steel bow. "You took it so bravely."

The redhead smiled tiredly, trying not to look down at her hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," I allowed you to clean the wound with the antiseptic and dab it with a swab. "It's my job, after all. Now, (y/n), can you please show me how you were taught to make stitches?"

"Of course, Dr. Bateman," you replied without hesitation, and this kind of obedience seemed to become my personal drug.

Standing up, I took a moment to admire how your uniform accentuated all of your curves, especially the roundness of your ass and the arch of your hips.

Shit, maybe I shouldn't have let Courtney stay in my office?

With these thoughts I leaned against the white wall and took off my mask as I suddenly felt a strong urge to smoke, luckily I still had the box of cigars my father had brought me from Cuba. I imagined inhaling the sharp scent of snuff when Liza's sudden whimper pulled me out of my trance.

"Can I have an anesthetic?" She asked, squirming in her place as she watched you prepare a suture kit.

"Just a local one," I muttered, a bit annoyed. "That will be enough. (Y/n), what should you do before using anesthesia?"

My question made you freeze. "Ask the patient about any allergies?"

"Right, but in this case you can find all the information on the medical card," I took off the gloves and took the card in my hands. "Well, I don't see anything that would prevent us from using bupivacaine."

As Liza sighed with relief and I watched you take a syringe, I had to admit that I was amazed at how carefully and attentively you worked.

Maybe you're not gonna get kicked out of the hospital as fast as I thought.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!