#it’s only when they’re together alone that their walls crumble

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

Gorgeous art for a gorgeous chapter of a gorgeous fic

i am so so happy! i commissioned a lovely piece from @/epsilynn and am so so over the moon to have the finished piece and to share it!!

this gorgeous gorgeous thing is from the autistic!wille au in chapter 6 of feels like💜

[fvsm4x]

𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

synopsis. Pregnancy, usually a positive outcome of love between two partners that love each other deeply. But Pregnancy resulting from someone using you for their own pleasure is far from a positive outcome

+ warning/content. bully Gojo Satoru x female reader - reader is pregnant - mentions of abortion - mature themes/MDNI - usual warnings - suguru and reader are siblings - gojo is a fuckboy - angst angst angst:))

+ word count. 4.9k

a/n. Been a while since i‘ve updated this series…

<-previous - series mlist - next->

As your mother and father stormed out of your room, they slammed the door with a force that rattled the walls, leaving you alone with your brother in the suffocating silence that followed. The finality of that door slamming shut felt like an ominous punctuation—a statement that there was no turning back.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the echo of their footsteps retreating down the hall. A knot tightened in your throat as the weight of their words crashed over you, a tidal wave of shame and dread. You forced yourself to take deep, steady breaths, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The last thing you wanted was for your brother to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, on the verge of falling apart.

Is that it? you wondered, panic clawing at your insides. Is this really it? Am I actually getting kicked out? The thought left you feeling hollow, like everything you had ever counted on had been stripped away in a single, merciless instant.

Your mind raced, leaping to thoughts of your future—or what little was left of it. Everything you’d worked for, everything you’d dreamed of, felt like it was slipping through your fingers, unraveling faster than you could piece it back together. You could see the edges of your life falling away. Your education, your home, the support you once took for granted. All of it was disappearing, leaving only the stark reality of an uncertain path ahead.

You clenched your hands, digging your nails into your palms to anchor yourself, trying to stave off the wave of despair building inside you. It felt like your world was caving in, each piece of your carefully planned life crumbling in a way that seemed beyond repair.

Your brother shifted beside you, breaking the silence as he cleared his throat, his face etched with worry. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering as if unsure whether to comfort you or respect the fragile space you’d created between yourself and your emotions.

Your brother’s hand finally found your shoulder, his touch gentle but grounding. His silence spoke louder than words, and for a moment, it was all you could rely on. Even though he didn’t know what to say, his presence gave you something solid to hold onto in the midst of the chaos unraveling inside you.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re just… angry. They’ll come around. Maybe if we just talk to them tomorrow, things will calm down.”

You shook your head, the harsh reality already settling into place. “No, Suguru.. you heard them. They were serious. They want me gone.”

He looked down, his brows knitted together in frustration. “But where will you go? You can’t just… be out there by yourself.” The helplessness in his voice mirrored your own fear, but even he didn’t have a solution.

You glanced around your room—the bed you’d grown up in, the books you’d loved and underlined, the photos on the wall capturing fragments of happier moments, times when things were simpler, manageable. Each item felt like a piece of the life you were about to lose, like a museum of memories that would soon be locked away from you forever.

The silence between you and your brother grew heavy, and as much as you wanted to break it, words failed you. What could you say? That you’d made a mistake? That you hadn’t meant for any of this to happen? (You hadn‘t) But they all sounded hollow, too small to carry the weight of what you were facing.

Finally, your brother spoke, his voice determined. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure something out. You can live at my apartment—until you have a plan, at least. I don‘t really use it, so don‘t worry. I’ll help you. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

His words offered a sliver of hope, but even as you nodded, uncertainty lingered. You knew your brother meant well, but deep down, you both understood how complicated it would be for him to go against your parents’ wishes. They’d raised him with the same expectations, the same rules—and while his heart was with you, his loyalty was torn.

But still, the idea of having somewhere to go, even if only temporarily, softened the blow just enough for you to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, but your gratitude was genuine. You reached for him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. The hug was the only comfort you had at that moment, the only thing anchoring you against the overwhelming feeling of loss and uncertainty.

After a long silence, he pulled back slightly, his face determined. “Go pack a few things. Whatever you need tonight. We’ll get out of here quietly. I’ll take care of the rest.”

-

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the squeak of the metal legs against the floor barely audible over the low murmur of his classmates. He absentmindedly tapped a pen against his notebook, the rhythmic click-click of it matching the unease simmering in his chest. His gaze drifted out the classroom window, where the afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, and that last encounter in the classroom felt like it had happened yesterday, every moment still vividly etched in his mind.

He recalled the way the quiet hum of the school’s empty corridors amplified every sound—the soft, breathy gasps you made, the rush of your breathing as he pressed you against the cool surface of the wall. It was intoxicating, each detail replaying in his head like a film on repeat. But oddly enough, it pained him that he hadn’t seen you since then.

At first, he shrugged it off, convincing himself that you were just playing hard-to-get or perhaps needed some space after everything that had happened. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to need time to collect themselves after an encounter with him— he had that effect on people. But as the days turned into weeks, that initial dismissal turned into a dull, nagging worry that gnawed at him.

Gojo tried to push the thoughts aside, telling himself that you’d show up eventually, that it was just a phase. But your absence had created an odd emptiness in his daily routine, a persistent itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He was used to you being there, your presence a strange but comforting constant, and now that comfort was replaced with a gnawing curiosity.

Then there was Suguru, your brother, whose steady presence at school made everything feel even stranger. He carried on with his day as though nothing had changed, greeting Gojo with his usual casual indifference, yet he never mentioned you. Gojo found himself watching Suguru more closely than he intended, searching for any hint or sign that might explain your absence. He could feel the itch of curiosity clawing at him, but part of him resisted asking outright. He didn’t want to seem like he cared too much, but every time he spotted Suguru without you, that curiosity intensified.

Had something happened to you? Did you get sick? Or had you simply decided to avoid him? The thought was uncomfortably unsettling, and he brushed it aside, frustrated with himself for even considering it.

It was frustrating. Gojo couldn’t quite understand why you were occupying so much of his mind. At first, he tried to blame it on Suguru—your brother was a constant reminder of you, after all—but he’d grown accustomed to that long ago. It wasn’t like him to fixate on anyone, especially someone who usually melted into the background. And yet, here he was, replaying that last encounter in his mind, scanning hallways, and lingering just a bit longer outside your classes, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He could chalk it up to boredom, a simple distraction to stave off the monotony of his day-to-day life. But deep down, he knew that there was something more than that. The thrill of teasing you, the way your face would scrunch up in irritation when he pushed you down in the hallways—it was strangely addictive. You had become his little victim, a source of amusement that made the slow days feel bearable. Now that you were gone, it left a void he couldn’t fill.

He hated admitting it, but he missed picking on you. The thought made his jaw clench, and a twisted grin crept across his face. Maybe he’d overestimated his hold over you, convinced that you would always be there for him to mess with. Or perhaps this was some kind of game you were playing, deliberately making him feel your absence, and it annoyed him even more.

Days continued to pass without a sign of you, and then, one morning, Suguru didn’t show up to school. Gojo was caught off guard by the emptiness in the usual spots where he’d see his friend. Normally, Suguru was as dependable as clockwork, always showing up right on time, effortlessly composed and ready to move through the day. Gojo couldn’t help but feel a strange twist in his stomach, wondering if something had happened. Maybe Suguru’s absence was tied to yours?

When Suguru finally returned the next day, he looked…off. His usually neat hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes a bit rumpled. There was an exhausted heaviness in his steps, and dark shadows under his eyes made him look as though he hadn’t slept all night. Gojo’s eyes followed him as he trudged through the school halls, quieter than usual, avoiding small talk and slipping into his seat without so much as a glance at anyone.

It was unlike Suguru to be this way. He barely looked up during the lunch break, barely mumbled a response when someone tried to talk to him. And Gojo could feel the unspoken weight hanging over him like a shadow—an air of tension, of something strained and unresolved. It made Gojo’s curiosity burn even stronger, a gnawing need to know what had happened.

But when Gojo finally approached him, Suguru only glanced up, his gaze tired and distant, and muttered a soft, “Not today, Satoru.” There was a finality in his tone, a closed-off energy that Gojo hadn’t seen before. It was clear that Suguru was carrying something heavy, something he wasn’t ready—or willing—to share.

And somehow, that only made his thoughts drift back to you. The emptiness left by your absence grew sharper, more pointed, and with it came a sinking feeling that whatever was happening with Suguru…was connected to you.

Gojo scoffed, shaking his head at himself as he tried to push thoughts of you aside. Why was he even letting you get to him? It wasn’t like him to dwell on anyone, let alone someone who’d gone MIA after a single hookup. He had more important things to think about—better distractions to keep himself entertained. Besides, if you were going to play hard-to-get or whatever this was, then that was on you.

With a lazy smirk, he glanced around the classroom, letting his gaze settle on a few familiar faces. Plenty of girls would kill for his attention— he didn’t need to waste any more time thinking about you. He’d spent weeks hoping for some sign of you, but maybe it was time he reminded himself of how easy it was to move on.

After class, he slipped out of the room, his stride slow and confident as he scanned the hallways. Within minutes, he found what he was looking for—an upperclassman lingering by her locker, eyeing him with a coy smile. He’d seen her around before, noticed the way her gaze lingered whenever he passed by.

Perfect.

With a quick sweep of his hair, he put on that easy charm, the one that always drew people in, and walked over, leaning casually against the lockers beside her. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Long day?”

The girl blinked, caught off guard for a second before her lips curled into a smile. “Not anymore,” she replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Gojo grinned, already shifting into the familiar rhythm of flirting that he knew so well. Within moments, they were leaning close, sharing secretive whispers and low laughs, her hand resting on his arm as she hung onto every word he said. He had a way of making them feel special, as if they were the only person in the world. He knew exactly what to say, how to let his gaze linger just long enough to make them squirm.

As he let the conversation drift into something more suggestive, he found himself glancing around, almost instinctively, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of you walking by. He mentally cursed himself for it, forcing himself to focus on the girl in front of him, but there was still that nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Even though he had her wrapped around his finger, it didn’t feel quite the same. She was willing, easy, and there was no thrill, no challenge. It felt…hollow.

For a moment, he wondered if this was just another way to forget you, a way to scratch an itch that wasn’t going away as easily as he’d hoped. The idea bothered him, and he dismissed it as quickly as it came. You didn’t matter—he was Gojo Satoru. He had girls practically throwing themselves at him every day. There was no reason he should be hung up on you.

-

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. Days slipped by in a gray monotony as you tried to settle into a space that felt as foreign as a stranger’s closet. There was nothing in the room that felt like you, just the sparse furniture your brother had left behind: a sagging couch with sunken cushions, a bed pushed awkwardly against the wall, and a handful of mismatched kitchen items. There were no family photos, no cozy blankets, not even a single potted plant to add life to the place. It was a hollow shell, his empty, seldom-used apartment, and now it was yours—a place to hide, but far from a home.

When you first came here, you thought you might be able to reach out, maybe even find comfort in a friend’s familiar voice. But the silence on the other end of the line grew heavier with each unanswered message. Some of your texts were left unread, others were marked “seen” and ignored. You’d started to convince yourself that somehow, they knew. They had to know about your mistake, your situation, and it was easier for them to turn away than to get involved. You could almost imagine their silent judgment, the whispers they might share when you weren’t around.

You felt backed into a corner, as if the world had abandoned you just when you needed it most. The shame felt insurmountable, an invisible wall that stopped you from trying again, that convinced you this loneliness was what you deserved.

You could barely feel it —the life inside you, growing silently, quietly, but undeniably there. Sometimes, you’d catch yourself resting a hand on your stomach without even realizing, feeling for something that wasn’t quite there yet, but knowing soon it would be. A thousand questions swirled in your mind. What kind of life would this child have? Would they hate you for the world you brought them into, for the choices you’d made that they would have to live with? The thought was like a chill running through your veins, paralyzing and real in a way nothing else was.

Then, late at night, as the hours stretched out, other thoughts would creep in—thoughts you tried to push away, but that stubbornly returned. Abortion. You felt the word like a weight in your chest, a tightness that you couldn’t swallow, but that was always there. In the dead silence of the apartment, you sometimes let yourself entertain the thought, if only for a moment, thinking how much easier it might be to turn away from this path. But then the guilt would wash over you, sinking deeper with every beat of your heart. It was a decision you couldn’t bring yourself to make, no matter how overwhelming everything felt.

You weren’t even sure you could hold your own life together, let alone bring another one into it. You hated feeling so trapped, as though every choice led to pain, no matter what you did. The idea of being a mother, of taking on this monumental responsibility, filled you with a dread that was hard to admit. It was as if each new day only added to a burden you were too afraid to carry yet too scared to set down. The future felt murky and shadowed, a looming unknown that swallowed up every glimmer of hope.

Sometimes, you’d find yourself standing by the window, gazing down at the quiet, dimly lit street below, lost in thoughts of an alternate life. What would it feel like to walk away from all this weight, to leave the fear and uncertainty behind? You let yourself imagine it—a life where you were free again, unburdened. But even as the fantasy flickered in your mind, there was a small, stubborn part of you that held on, that whispered maybe. Maybe you could carry this through. Maybe, despite everything, you could find a way to make this work.

To keep yourself grounded, you tried to build a routine. Every morning, you’d scroll through endless job listings, though each one felt like a reminder of the uncertainty surrounding you. Most positions didn’t seem right or possible for you now, but you kept looking. It was something to hold onto, some kind of structure when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers. You even organized the sparse kitchen, setting up the cabinets with a kind of precise care, as if putting things in order on the outside could bring some calm to the chaos inside.

One evening, as you sat cross-legged on the couch, the hum of distant traffic barely filled the silence. You stared at your phone screen, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. Loneliness settled over you, thick and heavy, amplified by the silence that had become so familiar. It was almost stifling, forcing you to confront thoughts you’d tried hard to avoid.

You missed your family, even if things between you had become strained. You missed the comforting predictability of home, the familiar sounds, the routine. Here, each day felt hollow and directionless, like floating in a fog with no sense of where you were headed. Sometimes, you’d sit there waiting, hoping for something to change, some sign that things would be okay, but the realization that it was entirely up to you weighed heavily.

A knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the stillness. Your heart gave a nervous jump as you hesitated, then forced yourself to cross the room. The apartment was usually so quiet, every sound amplified in the emptiness, and this interruption felt almost intrusive. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you opened the door to see the mailman standing there, holding a small, official-looking envelope in his hand.

“Here you go. Have a nice day,” he said with a nod, handing it over before turning to leave.

You mumbled a thank-you, barely audible, closing the door slowly as you stared down at the envelope. The stiff paper, the way your name was printed in impersonal black ink—it all radiated a sense of cold formality that sent a wave of dread curling in your stomach. You tore it open with shaking hands, telling yourself it was probably just another notice, a formality from the school.

But as your eyes scanned the letter, a sickening realization washed over you. It wasn’t just a reminder or a request for information. It was a notification—a final, official statement that you’d been dropped from school because of unpaid tuition. Your parents had stopped covering your fees without any warning, leaving the balance unpaid. And because you hadn’t attended in weeks, the school had processed it as a withdrawal.

You read the words again, trying to make sense of them, as if they would change on a second pass. But they stayed the same, cold and unyielding, spelling out a reality you hadn’t prepared for. The letter offered no alternatives, no appeal. Either you somehow paid the balance yourself, or you would be permanently removed from the roster.

A numb disbelief settled over you as you sank onto the couch, clutching the letter tightly. They’d actually done it. They’d cut you off without a word, leaving you adrift, stripped of the one place you’d thought you could depend on. A mix of anger and hurt bubbled up inside you, but the betrayal was what stung the most.

Your mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic spiral. What would you do now? Leaving school meant giving up on so many things—dreams you’d quietly held onto, plans that seemed so certain not long ago. It was like everything you’d worked toward, every late night studying and early morning hustle, had been erased in an instant. This wasn’t just a setback— it felt like a wall you’d crashed into with no way around.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them back, forcing yourself to press your lips into a hard line. There was no one you could turn to for help, no one who could wave a magic wand and fix this.

You sat there on the couch, feeling the weight of the letter in your hand like a stone, its meaning sinking in deeper and deeper. The room seemed even colder, emptier, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. Every step you’d taken had been building toward something, and now that path was gone, wiped away in the span of a single letter.

No matter what mistakes you’d made, you’d never expected your own family to cut you off 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. You wanted to scream, to call them, to make them hear you and see what they’d done—but that door felt closed too, like an argument already lost. The bitter realization settled in— of course they weren’t going to reach out- they weren’t going to help. Afterall, they were the ones that kicked you out in the first place.

You glanced down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen as you debated sending another message to one of your friends. Maybe you could explain everything, maybe they’d understand, maybe they’d reach back and give you a lifeline. But a familiar fear held you back. The weight of your situation, your mistake, felt too heavy to burden anyone else with, and every time you imagined reaching out, a voice in the back of your mind reminded you that they hadn’t been there for you before. Why would they be there now?

The silence in the apartment grew louder, pressing in on you until it was almost unbearable. Desperate for a distraction, you got up and wandered aimlessly through the small space, moving things around on the counter, straightening the already-neat cupboards, just doing anything to keep your hands busy. But the distraction was short-lived, and the reality of your situation crept back in.

The future felt terrifyingly empty, an open void where all your plans used to be. The only clear thing was that you had no other choice now but to figure this out on your own. Slowly, a stubborn resolve began to build beneath the panic. You were here, alone, but that didn’t mean you had to stay stuck. Maybe, somehow, you could make this work. You could find a job, save up, find a way to get back into school. It felt like an impossible task, but it was the only path left.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your laptop and opened up a job-search site, scrolling through the endless list of options. Most were dead ends—part-time retail or night shifts that didn’t even pay enough to cover the rent suguru is payinh. But you forced yourself to keep looking, moving through page after page, searching for anything that might be a start, a way forward.

The hours slipped by, the weight of the decision settling over you like a cold blanket, but you kept scrolling, kept hoping that something would spark the possibility of change.

After what felt like hours scrolling through listings and filling out applications, your eyes grew tired, the screen blurring in front of you. You needed air, space to breathe, to feel something other than the weight pressing down on your chest. With a sigh, you closed your laptop, abandoning it on the couch, and made your way over to the small balcony just off the living room.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the crisp night air, a chill that wrapped around you, cutting through the dullness. The street below was quiet, dim streetlights casting long shadows across the empty pavement. Leaning against the railing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cold settle into your skin, grounding you, if only for a moment. The city felt vast from here, stretching out endlessly, full of people going about their lives, yet here you were, feeling like the only one left adrift.

As you opened your eyes, you gazed out over the neighborhood, the distant hum of cars a low, steady comfort. For a fleeting moment, you felt a strange sense of freedom, as if up here on this balcony, the problems inside couldn’t quite reach you. It was quiet, peaceful even, the world below carrying on, oblivious to your struggles.

You’d imagined such a different future, one where you’d be surrounded by friends, pursuing your passions, finding yourself. But now? It all felt like a distant memory, something that had happened to someone else entirely.

The sky above was cloudy, with only a few stars managing to peek through. You stared up, trying to find some kind of sign, something to remind you that you weren’t entirely alone, that maybe there was still a chance for things to change.

You stayed there a while, letting the cold numb the tension in your body, staring into the distance, thinking about what you’d do next. The thought of reaching out for help gnawed at you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to take that step. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was just the fear of rejection. Either way, you knew that whatever came next would be up to you.

Your gaze drifted downward, tracing the shapes of the buildings, the shadows cast by streetlights, when a familiar flash of white caught your eye. Your heart clenched involuntarily. Gojo.

He was strolling down the sidewalk, his stride as arrogant and carefree as ever, his laughter echoing faintly up toward you. His arm was draped around the shoulders of a girl who leaned into him, her face turned up toward him with a bright smile, entirely captivated. They looked close, intimate, like they were the only two people in the world. Watching them, a dull ache pulsed in your chest, stirring a cocktail of emotions you didn’t want to face.

You gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles whitening. Memories clawed their way up, memories of him—of his smirk, his mocking words, the way he’d cornered you like he had every right. Gojo had always been cruel, but he wielded his charm like a weapon, drawing people in only to watch them squirm when he showed his true colors. He had treated you the same way, toying with you, using you, and then discarding you without a second thought.

The girl beside him had no idea, you thought bitterly. She was seeing the Gojo who played his part so well, the smooth talker, the charmer, the boy who seemed like he could do no wrong. But you knew better. You knew what lay beneath that mask, the callousness he could hide behind his easy smiles. And now, there he was, laughing without a care, completely untouched by everything he’d done to you, while you were left to piece yourself back together.

A cold, bitter anger welled up inside you, mingling with the helplessness you tried so hard to ignore. He had stolen something from you—something you could never get back. He is the reason you got kicked out and have a hard life now.

And yet here he was, walking down the street as if nothing had happened, as if you didn’t exist, a careless reminder of how easily he’d been able to walk away from the pain he’d caused.

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[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[steveseddie]

limited time offer

steddie | rated: t | wc: 2,3 k | tags: vol. 2 missing scene, pre-relationship, eddie munson needs a hug, hurt/comfort

click here to read on ao3

Steve starts doing headcounts. 

After what happened with Max at the cemetery, Steve starts going over a list of names in his head, checking off each of his friends once he makes sure they haven’t been taken by Vecna- like ticking off boxes on a very fucked up grocery list.

He starts with Max every time. By now she has probably noticed the way his eyes constantly dart to her or the way he visibly relaxes when he notices the headphones still hanging from her neck, but at least she hasn’t said anything about it. 

Next is Nancy- the sight of her eyes rolled back into her head still too vivid in Steve’s mind. Then is Robin, Henderson, the Sinclairs-

After Skull Rock, Steve adds Eddie’s name to the list. He doesn’t know if they can be considered friends yet but he is part of their group now and Steve isn’t letting anyone else from his group almost die again at the hands of Vecna.

It’s only been a few minutes since Steve last did one of his headcounts- sitting outside the RV making homemade bombs.

But as the battle draws closer, Steve grows more and more anxious about losing one of his friends so after toasting to killing Vecna slash Henry slash One, Steve’s eyes roam the field where they’re preparing for battle while going over the list in his head.

Max and Nancy sawing off shotguns. Check. 

Robin pouring gasoline into a bottle. Check. 

The Sinclairs building spears. Check. 

Eddie and Dustin building shields- and sparring? Check. 

Steve breathes a little easier after that. 

His eyes linger on the last pair. He can’t hear what Eddie is telling Dustin but he can see the way they’re both smiling. 

That is until Dustin turns his attention back to his shield and Eddie’s face crumbles, his smile disappearing completely as his expression turns anxious and terrified. Steve watches as he takes a few shuddering breaths, his hands flexing at his sides. Even from a distance, Steve can tell they’re shaking. 

Steve sighs. He knows how hard it is- being hurled into this interdimensional monster fighting bullshit. This is Steve’s fourth time dealing with it and he can’t say that it gets any easier. And for his first time, Eddie already had it worse than any of them. He’s been alone for most of it and he also has people coming after him on top of everything. 

This whole time Steve has been waiting for him to snap, for him to say fuck it and run off, for him to start screaming or crying but he hasn’t done any of that. He’s still here- scared shitless but here, trying to put on a brave face. And Steve knows all about that so he can see right through Eddie’s act. What he doesn’t know is what to do about it. If this was one of the kids or Robin or even Nancy, Steve would know but he hardly knows Eddie and he doesn’t know what he needs. 

He looks like he needs a hug. Steve saw Eddie’s face when Henderson hugged him at Skull Rock, the relief written all over it. When the kid pulled back, Steve felt the urge to walk up to Eddie and hug him next, even if the only contact they’d had at that point was when Eddie pinned against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck.

Steve wanted to hug him again in the Upside Down- every time Eddie flinched or curled in on himself when Demobats screeched in the distance or lightning painted the sky red, but Steve was half-naked, covered in blood and goo and he didn’t think Eddie would appreciate any of that. 

He wanted to hug Eddie at Max’s house- trap his hands between their chests so he would stop running his fingers through his hair, scrubbing his hands down his face, aggressively wringing his fingers together so hard his knuckles cracked, but Eddie might’ve punched him for doing it in front of everyone when he’s supposed to be cool and metal.

He doesn’t look cool or metal right now. He looks on the verge of tears and Steve is shaking with how badly he wants to walk over there and hug him, tell him that everything will be okay but Steve has a job to do. 

They all do. 

Eddie seems to realize it at the same time. After one last shaky breath, he goes back to his shield, leaving Steve with no choice but to turn back to Robin and focus on his own task. 

***

It’s not until they’re getting ready to leave that Steve does another headcount. 

Max and Erica are inside the Winnebago, loading it up with weapons and supplies.

Nancy and Robin are going over the stages of their plan to make sure they thought of everything.

Sinclair and Henderson are trying the walkies, checking the batteries and making sure they’re on the right channel.

Eddie is-

Steve frowns, his eyes roaming the field one, two, three times but he still doesn’t see Eddie anywhere. 

Panic starts bubbling up inside him at the thought of anything happening to Eddie. 

Don’t go there, Steve tells himself. Maybe Eddie needed to take a piss and went to find a tree somewhere. Maybe he just needed a minute away from everyone.

Or maybe Vecna got to him. Maybe it’s already too late and Eddie is the fourth victim and all they did was for nothing.

He tries to remain calm as he looks for Eddie but his heart is beating frantically. He checks inside the RV first and when he realizes he isn’t there, he goes around it, planning to go into the woods next if he doesn’t find him there either. 

But he does- he finds him crouching on the ground with his back against the RV, his face buried in his hands, framed by a curtain of hair.

“Eddie?” Steve asks warily, still unsure if Eddie might be trapped by Vecna.

But then Eddie jumps, whipping his head up and staring at Steve with wide, scared eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington!” 

He holds his hands up in front of him. “Shit, sorry, I thought-”

“That Vecna got me?” Eddie scoffs. He taps his knuckles against his temple. “Nope, just me up here.” His hands fall to the space between his legs. They’re shaking. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, shoving his own hands in his pockets when he feels the urge to grab Eddie’s and hold them until they’re not shaking anymore. 

Eddie breathes out a humorless laugh. “Dude, I’m so fucking far from okay.”

Steve grimaces, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Right, of course, that was stupid.” 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Eddie shakes his head. “No, not stupid, sorry. I’m just on edge, man. This whole monster fighting thing.” He waves his hand vaguely. “It ain’t for me.”

“I thought that’s what you did in that dorky game of yours,” Steve says, hoping to distract Eddie with a joke. 

Eddie snorts. “It’s really fucking different when you can actually, you know- die.”

“You’re not gonna die, Munson,” Steve says with a frown.

Eddie shakes his head repeatedly. “Oh, I have a baaad feeling, Stevie, a feeling that I ain’t gonna make it out-”

“Fuck that, man,” Steve hisses. The thought of something happening to Eddie or any of his friends making anger bubble up inside him. “You can’t think like that. We got this, okay?”

Eddie sighs, lifting his gaze to meet Steve’s eyes. “How do you do it, man?”

“Do what?”

“How are you so,” he gestures at Steve, “calm about this shit.”

“It’s not my first time,” Steve shrugs. “My first time I was scared shitless, but I made it out okay and you will too,” he says as confidently as he can, but Eddie doesn’t seem convinced. He’s no longer looking at Steve but down at his hands as he nervously wrings his fingers together, his leg bouncing rapidly. His hair falls like a curtain around his face but Steve can still see the tears gathering in his eyes. 

Eddie looks like he’s falling apart at the seams, and once again Steve wants to hug him. Only this time they’re alone, they’re not covered in blood or Upside Down goo and they’ve come a long way from Eddie trying to slash his neck open with a bottle so Steve thinks fuck it and takes a step forward. 

“Come here.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He frowns. “What?”

“Get up,” Steve says. Still frowning, Eddie pushes himself to his feet. “Now come here.”

“Where?”

“Here.” Steve holds his arms open and Eddie’s eyebrows disappear behind his bangs. “I’m giving you a hug.”

“You’re- what?”

Steve shuffles his feet. He feels stupid, standing there with his arms open while Eddie stares at him like he grew a second head. The back of his neck feels like it’s burning, the heat slowly spreading to his face. “You- you just look like you could use a hug.”

Eddie breathes out a startled laugh. “Holy shit, this is by far the strangest thing to have happened to me ever, and considering the days I just had, that’s saying something.”

“Munson,” Steve mutters but Eddie ignores him. 

“Steve Harrington wants to give me a hug?” Eddie gasps, clutching his chest. 

Steve huffs. “Yeah, and it’s a limited-time offer so are you gonna come here or are you gonna be a dick about it?”

“Well, if His Majesty insists,” Eddie jokes with a hand flourish but his tone lacks any lightheartedness. He’s nervous, fidgety. Despite his words, he hesitates, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. 

So Steve takes matters into his own hands. Literally. He closes the distance between them with two long strides, grabs Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him in.

Eddie goes stiff, and for a moment, Steve worries that he’ll pull back but then he lets out a soft noise and melts into Steve, shaky hands coming up to grab his waist. 

“You’re going to live, Eddie,” Steve whispers, one of his hands moving to cup the back of Eddie’s neck. He shudders in his arms. “We’re going to win and we’re all going to live, okay?”

Eddie tucks his face into his neck. It’s Steve who shudders this time. “If you say so, Stevie.”

Steve makes a stubborn noise. “I do,” he says, squeezing Eddie a little tighter. He ignores the whine Eddie lets out or how it makes something hot burn in his belly. He focuses on Eddie’s arms wrapping around his waist instead- like he fears Steve might pull away. 

He doesn’t.

“You just have to trust me, okay?” Steve says, absently playing with the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck, feeling him go limp in his arms. Pride surges through Steve at being right. Eddie clearly needed a hug. 

“Okay,” Eddie whispers, sounding a little more confident. 

Neither of them let go. They stay like that for a while, just holding each other, Steve’s fingers still moving in Eddie’s hair. 

“Steve?” Eddie says, breaking the silence after a few minutes. 

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what? You’re a good hugger, dude, I’m enjoying myself,” Steve teases but the truth is that he means it. He likes hugging Eddie, he wishes he didn’t wait this long to do it or that he didn’t need to let go of him soon, before their friends come looking for them. He knows what Robin will say if she finds them like this- she has yet to shut up about Eddie calling Steve big boy and how Steve momentarily forgot how to function because of it.

He forgets how to function now when Eddie giggles, his breath tickling Steve’s neck. “You keep surprising me, Harrington.”

“Get used to it, Munson,” he says as he finally, regrettably, pulls back. He keeps his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “’Cause you’re stuck with me, man.”

Eddie blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, squeezing his shoulders. He gets an idea. “After we’re done, I’m taking you out for a drink. I think we’ll both need one.”

A smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. He seems infinitely more relaxed now than he did when Steve found him. “What- like a date?” He asks, clearly trying to make a joke even if his eyes dart a little nervously over Steve’s face.

Already missing the way Eddie’s arms felt around his waist or how his fingers felt in Eddie’s hair, Steve stops himself from brushing it off as a joke. He can’t, not when the idea of going on a date with Eddie makes his stomach fill with butterflies. With a smirk, he shrugs. “Guess you’re just gonna have to live long enough to find out?”

A nearly hysterical laugh bursts out of Eddie but his eyes sparkle like the idea of going out on a date with Steve doesn’t make him want to run off into the woods. “Guess so, big boy,” he says, making Steve’s cheeks heat up. “Let’s go make that Vecna fucker pay then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a big grin. “Let’s kill that son of a bitch.”

And with that, they head back to their friends. Eddie isn’t okay, he probably won’t be until this is over but now there’s a spring in his step and his hands aren’t shaking anymore.

And when his eyes meet Steve’s on the rearview mirror as he drives them to the Creel house, Eddie gives him a big dimpled smile- the first one to reach his eyes since they found him in that boat house. 

Steve is happy to have hugged him. He can’t wait to do it again- because he needs it, because they made it or just because this time. And then hopefully many times after that. 

[avocado-writing]

Oooh, for bg3 asks, I’d LOVE some Tav bonding with Halsin ♥️ Trauma dumping, or being out in nature together, or maybe realising they’re catching feelings? Whichever you feel like, thank you so much in advance, hope you are doing well ♥️

notes: I have wild, carnal desires for this man. should be gender neutral, only description is that your lips are “pretty” and you’re shorter than him!

pairing: halsin x reader

rating: M

“Halsin, I’m going to gather some firewood. Care to join me?”

Halsin looks up to where you stand at the edge of the camp, hand on your hip and head cocked to one side, easy grin on your pretty lips. He resists the urge to glance over to where the firewood pile is - many logs high already, far more than you likely need - because the two of you know that this is just an excuse to spend some time alone together.

Halsin makes a show of standing and stretching, smiling down at you. 

“Why not? It will be nice to go for a walk.”

“We’ve been walking all day,” shouts Astarion from the other side of the camp, glaring over the top of his book. He’s just irritated because, rather than being at the Elfsong, business has called you back to Wyrm’s Crossing and camping life. You roll your eyes and flip him a good-natured rude gesture. 

“Good thing you aren’t invited then, hmm?” you turn to the druid, and he loves the way your face lights up when you’re being silly with your friends. It stirs something in his old heart. 

“Lead on.”

You do, you’re beginning to know the woods pretty well around Baldur’s Gate. They aren’t as vast as the ones which Halsin is used to at home, but at least it’s a break from the suffocating stone walls and brick roads of the city. It’s good to be back in nature and he can feel his energy slowly return - it is a salve for his soul, and with you by his side? Well. It is heaven. 

Halsin takes a moment to watch you. You tread with a sure-footedness to rival his own through the detritus of the forest floor, pausing only so that you can carefully hop up onto a fallen tree and use it as a makeshift balancing beam. He observes fondly as you place one foot in front of the other, heel to toe, balancing upon the crumbling bark with your arms outstretched. 

“You don’t like to stay still, do you?”

You throw him a look over your shoulder and grin, making a show of tumbling forward into a perfect cartwheel and alighting gracefully on the gnarled roots. 

“I don’t. Sorry. It’s far too boring otherwise.”

“Never apologise. I find it…”

Enchanting, he longs to say. Captivating. So utterly and wonderfully you. But he doesn’t want to overwhelm you with his feelings so he settles on, “endearing.”

“Oh, ‘endearing’?” you tease with a little laugh, “I’m glad that I endear myself to you, archdruid.”

You look down, seeing how high up you’ve ended, and Halsin steps in to help you back to terra firma. Clearly he’s played right into your plan because you wrap your arms around his neck and press your body to his, sliding down to the ground but not breaking the embrace.

“I’ve been thinking about you, you know,” you say, softly, eyes twinkling. 

“Oh?” he raises a brow; feels something stir. 

“Haven’t been able to think of much else. The claw marks have only just started to heal.”

You chuckle as he feels himself blush, a rich and full-bodied thing. It is his favourite sound, he thinks. He doesn’t know how he ever lived without it. 

“I was worried I was too rough…”

“My dear, you misunderstand. It was not a complaint.”

He can feel your smile as you press your lips to his, and oh he is gone. The things you do to him… surely it must be some sort of enchantment, for he’s never felt so totally enamoured before. 

He holds you in the safety of his grasp. His muscled arms engulf you utterly, rooting you into the moment. Oak Father preserve him, he has not stopped thinking about the night that the two of you laid together. The hot tightness of you as he slid inside; how his name fell from your lips like a mantra, a prayer; the way he’d woken next to you the following morning and you’d ridden him again - shining in the glory of the dawning sun with your head thrown back in rapture. You’ve known him both as man and beast, taken everything he was - everything that he was scared you’d run from - and embraced it entirely. 

What he’d have given for a repeat, but duty called you elsewhere. He’d been dreaming about it since, quietly taking himself in hand when the rest of the party was asleep, fucking his own palm to completion with your name growled under his breath. 

Spellbound. That’s what he is. Spellbound by you. 

“Halsin…” you whisper, in that dreamy, honey-dripping way you do, and you do not fight when he finds a soft patch of grass to lay you in. 

He wastes not a second, now he has you alone. 

A handful of hours have passed by the time the two of you return to camp. Though you both have leaves in your hair, you do not have any firewood. 

Wisely, nobody comments. 

Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate

[daniswoso]

I hate the way I can’t hate you.

Ona Batlle x Reader.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, verbal arguments.

******

When you played for Levante, you met a girl. The most perfect girl in the world, to you, at least. Ona Batlle. She was kind, caring, considerate; her eyes were brown and reminded you of quiet fall nights. Her jaw was sharp and her mousy brown hair was always tied back in a plait.

Her personality was one of the best you had ever seen. She had the ability to care so fiercely for others while also keeping a level head, she was always soft spoken and polite but also charismatic and humorous. She was possibly the most humble person you had ever met, too.

You may have been young, but you were sure as hell in love.

And you don't think you've been able to love quite right ever since she broke your heart.

You started out at Levante together, you played football together, studied for school together. You trained together, lived together, ate together, went to the gym together. You were attached at the hip. So when her departure to Manchester United was announced, it was saddening. But you made your peace with it.

You had both decided you were going to make it work. You had too.

Ona, for a long time, was the only constant in your life. Your family and home life had never been particularly stable or good. You hadn't come from riches or fame. You had to work hard to get where you were today. And you continued to.

When you first went pro, you promised yourself you weren't going to let relationships get in the way of your career, but somehow Ona managed to break down your walls and your tough facade. Simply by being her.

She was a part of your heart. So when she suddenly ended things half way into her first season at United, a part of your heart died.

She did it over text.

Text.

To say you were heartbroken was an understatement. It felt as though a piece of you had fallen away, crumbled as you read those words. The words you had hoped to never hear. The words you never thought you would hear.

And so you needed to get away, from everything Ona. From anything that reminded you of her. And that meant leaving the only other constant in your life, Levante.

Plenty of things have changed recently, you thought, what's one more?

And it was difficult, but eventually you settled into Real Madrid. Content with only seeing her at Champions League matches, or in national friendlies where you would have to play alongside her.

You were content, but never quite happy.

You had had many failed talking stages and one night stands, often random women from bars. You always left before they even got the chance to stirr awake, leaving their bed cold and empty. Although you always felt guilty after, you continued with it. It was what worked.

You didn't fall in love, you weren't sure you could. And leaving before they could wake was the best way to get away from the situation, preventing yourself from catching even the slightest hint of feeling for them. Wether it was because you were still holding out some hope she'd come back, or because you simply didn't want a relationship; you weren't sure.

You couldn't truly love anyone again. You couldn't let yourself truly love anyone again. Ona had broken you, and wether it was for the better or the worse you didn't know. But you had a strong feeling it wasn't for the better.

A piece of you left with Ona the day she broke things off. You were confused, young and alone at the time. In a way you still were, you hadn't quite shed yourself of your previous naïvety.

But you were content at Real now.

Until Ona's transfer to Barcelona was announced.

It was something Ona had always dreamed about, going back to Barcelona. She’d tell you, “That club made me. They’re my home. And I promise you one day I’ll go back, with you,”

She'd say it with a smirk so charming and sweet you couldn't resist but to play into her fantasies. You would stay up all night talking to each other about everything you would do at Barcelona, how you would revolutionise the defending line.

Obviously that fell through. You went to Real Madrid instead, and you had always told yourself it was out of the need to leave; but you're fairly convinced you did it out of spite.

You felt your newly constructed life crumble around you the day you saw the news on instagram. You knew she was going to come back to Spain eventually, just like she had always planned. But you didn't think it would be this soon. She seemed happy at United.

Just your luck though, right?

Although the feelings you experienced when you saw the news alone at home was nothing compared to what you felt when you shook hands with her and met those beautiful brown eyes you thought were in your past again.

The same soft hands that had held you after harsh losses or great wins at Levante.

You never thought you'd hear her voice again. See her more often than you had to.

That match you kept your head down and did your job. And it paid off, Madrid won 3-2. Immediately after, you left for the locker rooms. But you heard the clacking of studs behind you and immediately knew who it was.

Ona. The love of your life Ona. The one who broke up with you without an explanation and over text Ona. The girl who you met when you were just a naïve young adult and had fallen in love with, was there. Stood before you, her big brown eyes glistening with unshed tears while yours were already streaming down your cheeks.

"Y/N." Her voice cracked. You winced and more tears fell, it took everything in you to not turn into a fit of sobs and cries right there and then.

"Batlle." You replied. Your voice was harsh and cold, albeit a little shaky and a tear fell down her cheek and her lip quivered as she sniffed. You fought back the urge to reach out and wipe her tears away.

"Y/N I need to explain myself, por favor." She pleaded. You felt like a giant dick for what you said next, but you said it anyway.

"Not a fucking chance. You broke me the day you left me, Ona. And to make matters worse? You did it over text with no fucking explanation," you paused, tears streaming faster, your voice trembling. You studied her face, searching for any sign of guilt or remorse, instead you were met with the sight of her looking to the ground.

"I need an explanation. Why, Ona? Why?" You said, your voice probably sounding needy now but you couldn't care less. Your mean facade had faded now and you shakily exhaled.

"I didn't want to hold you back," She said, her voice quiet and timid, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly as she held back her sobs.

"You didn't want to hold me back?" You repeat, she nods. Your sadness was replaced with a fiery hot rage that had been burning deep within you ever since that fateful day.

"You weren't fucking holding me back Ona! You never were! We had a system! We were fine!" You yelled, she flinched but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Too overcome with rage and anger to feel anything else.

"Y/N, please trust me when I say I didn't want to, but I knew I was holding you back, you were holding out for an offer from United, or Barca. I could tell-" you cut her off

"Did you ever fucking consider I was just happy at Levante?! I was captain for fucks sakes, Ona! I didn't want to leave that! I left because of you, I needed to get away from everything you!" You yelled, tears streaming down your face as Ona tilted her head back, wiping at her eyes.

"Y/N, I was right to do what I did. I mean, look at you! You're a star player for Madrid.." her voice broke again as she gestured to your grass stained Real kit.

"Right to do what you did?!" you screamed, she tilted her head to the side and shut her eyes, her lip quivering and her breathing shaky.

"I loved you, Ona! I still fucking do! I think I always will! Could you not have at least spoken to me first? Asked me if I needed space? Rather than breaking my heart and leaving me confused and trying to pick up the pieces for years?!" your anger had faded, the rage inside you simmering down now. Your upset and disappointment replacing the fury.

"Y/N-" she was cut off by you again.

"I hated you, you know?" you got out through gritted teeth, meeting her eyes as they widen and she stifled a choked sob, "Sometimes I think I still do. I hated the way everything reminded me of you. I hate the way I can't view fall the same as I used to anymore because it reminds me of your fucking eyes. But most of all, Ona?"

She looks at you, her brows furrowed and her lips tightly pressed together as they trembled while her shoulders shook ever so subtly as she suppressed her sobs.

"I hate the way I can't ever truly hate you."

And that was all it took, she broke down, mumbling apologies. But it was too late. You had retreated into your locker room, leaving Ona's Barcelona teammates to collect her.

You needed to heal. And now you had an explanation and closure, you finally could.

And the first step in that is letting go of the thing that hurt you the most. And for you, that just so happened to be the love of your goddamn life.

But it didn't matter. You would get through it.

***

Hi! Sorry. This was very sad, I was just in an angsty kinda mood haha. Also! English is not my first language so please feel free to correct my grammar lol. Hope you're all having a good day, night or afternoon and staying hydrated.

Yours truly,

author :)

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝒹 ℴ𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋ℯ

warnings: they’re both kinda pervy 😭 male masturbation, 18+, MDNI,

Cowboy!au Masterlist

He panted heavily, pulling his bandana from his face and finally letting his horse take a breath. He had nowhere to go, his friends were scattered around, and he knew they’d be fine together. But he was alone, and no civilian would take him in this late.

at least that’s what he thought.

He walked the road, horses reins in his hands. He was getting exhausted, and he knew they would have to hole up somewhere eventually.

He looked around, seeing a poster put up of him on a wood post, his face drawn on with the words “wanted dead or alive. Reward: 5,000.” printed under it. He scoffed, ripping it off the post and crumbling it, throwing it behind him.

“Wow- uhm, sir?!” Your voice called out to him, although he didn’t register it at first. “Sir?” You repeated, tapping on his shoulder. He jolted slightly, turning to meet your eyes.

Even in the dark, he could see that you were beautiful. His mouth went agape as he stared, eyes getting lost in yours for a moment.

“Are you okay? uhm- you have… blood. On your shirt.” You motioned to the stains on his chest, that reached all the way to the back of his shirt.

“Oh! Yeah, I know, it’s not mines. I’m fine.” He told you, snapping out of his daze.

“Oh.” You murmured. “Do you live ‘round here or something?” You asked him, scrunching up your face in the cutest way he’s ever seen.

He was shocked, there was posters of his name and face all around town. “Yeah.. something like that.” He responded, turning his head when he heard his horse make a noise and began to lay down, John b frowning and pulling on his reins.

“Up, girl.” He muttered under his breath, feeling bad about it but he couldn’t stay in the middle of the road.

“Oh, poor thing. How long have you guys been out?” You asked, kneeling down to reach the horses level, gently petting it.

“A- A couple hours now..” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, watching you.

“Well, uhm… I know this sounds weird, but I’m gonna feel real bad if I don’t offer it at least. My pa’s farm is just right there, we have stables and I think your horse could really use some rest. My daddy’s not home for a couple days, so it should be fine-“

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.” He told you, waving it off.

“I insist. Jus’ stay for a day or two, you look like you could use a shower. And she looks like she can use some food or somethin’.”

He looked down at himself, grimaced and sighed. “Alright.” He agreed, watching you stand back up, leading him over to your house.

“Here’s your room!” You motioned to the guest bedroom in front of you, walking into it to fix a blanket.

“It’s… beautiful.” He told you, looking around the room and the decorations. It was homey.

“Thank you. I decorated it myself.” You paused, looking at him with a smile and walking to the doorway. “You need anything, ask me, alright? Here’s a towel.” You told him, handing him the towel, his hand touching yours for a brief moment.

“Thanks…” he trailed off, watching your hips sway as you moved to leave, eyes on your ass. He shook that thought, this sweet girl was giving him hospitality !! And he was checking you out like a perv.

When he was in the shower, the thoughts didn’t go away. His cock was aching, tip red and angry. He groaned quietly in frustration, glancing around the bathroom, making sure the door was locked before his hand traveled down his body, and down to his aching member.

He ran his thumb over his tip, before slowly tugging on his cock, his mind filled with images of you as he leaned onto the thin walls with a hand holding him up, biting his bottom lip to stop any sound from coming out, only letting quiet and small grunts come out every often when he couldn’t help it.

Little did he know, you had heard every single sound that he made, with your ear pressed against the door.

[luimagines]

To Cope

Another commission!

They asked for platonic Time, helping/consoling Reader after the death of a loved one.

Masterlist

Content under the cut.

It was hard to explain.

The pain… The pain was enough to shut you down. It was raw. It was deep and primal. It cuts you to the core. It knocks you off your feet. You felt like you were falling even if your feet were still planted on solid ground.

You felt sick. Nauseous.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you could fully control yourself. You counted yourself lucky that there was no one else around you at the moment because if someone saw you, they would ask questions. And you would have to answer. And if you answer, you don’t think you would be able to hold yourself together for as long as you’ve been managing to. Saying it out loud would make it real. And if it was real, then there was no coming back from this.

You had lost them. You weren’t even home and they’re gone. You’re never going to see them again. They won’t be waiting for you when you open that door.

A sob rips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. This isn’t the place to cry. The others are going to hear you. You won’t be able to explain-

A twig snaps somewhere to your right.

You hold yourself tighter, holding your breath as if that’s going to stop them from finding you.

You don’t even bother to look up and see who it is. You curl in tighter, trying to squeeze the pain out of you. The other person pauses. You can’t see them but you can hear that they’ve stopped moving. Slowly, as if they weren’t sure how to go about it, they approached you and sat by your side.

You sniffle, cursing yourself internally. You didn’t want anyone to see you this way. You had hoped that you would return early enough to hide your tears. But now you’ve been caught. You struggle to open your mouth but you still find the courage to speak. “...Go away…”

It's more a plea than a demand. It sounds pathetic. You feel pathetic. It’s too much to hold in and another sob slips past you.

An arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you tightly into their side. “Let it out.”

You gasp and look up. You hadn’t expected Time to find you. He looks at you patiently and you can see the little worry lines beside his eyes. Gently, he raises his other hand and wipes the tears from your cheeks. “You can cry… It’s ok…”

It’s as if the dam broke. Before you can even register the forces in your heart, sobs tumble out of you in a river of emotion. It’s too strong for you to hold back anymore. 

Time turns and pulls you into his arms, holding onto you tightly. It’s just enough for you to let go of your emotions. It’s the strength you wish you had to squeeze your feelings out. 

Your heart hurts. It hurts so much.

Time says nothing and sighs to himself. He brings his hand up to gently run his hand over your head in soothing motions, holding onto you as you cry. You don’t hold him back. You’re still trying to pick up the pieces of your crumbling walls.

Time is ok with this. He doesn’t know all the details about the death of… well… All he knows is that your very world revolved around them. And now they’re gone. He… can only guess what that feels like.

The moment passes and your sobs dissolve into hiccups. You finally grab onto Time and tuck your face into the crook of his neck, looking for comfort from the man. 

He doesn’t hesitate to hold you back. Time holds you tighter than before and starts to gently rock back and forth. 

Eventually your hiccups subside as well but Time doesn’t push you away. 

A beat passes as Time keeps rocking and petting you softly. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I’m sure you wanted to be alone… but this isn’t something you should deal with alone. We’re all here for you.”

You sniffle and keep quiet.

That doesn’t stop Time though. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to move at all tomorrow. Breath. Save your strength.”

You bite your lip, feeling a little indignant. “It hurts, Link. They’re gone and I- I’m- I can’t even-”

“Shh…” Time wipes away the last of the runaway tears. “Don’t. There are many things in this life that we cannot control and there are many things that will happen when we least expect it. We’re simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

A whine escapes you. You clutch onto Time like a lifeline, gripping onto his shirt and shoulders as if something threatened to tear you away. Time says nothing about it and simply holds you close.

“...I already miss them.”

“I know.” Time whispers, aching on your behalf. “That feeling won’t go away. You just learn to live with it. You learn to find a new normal.”

You can’t accept his words. It’s too fresh. It’s too recent. You shake your head, threatening to sob once more into his shoulder. “...I don’t want a new normal.”

Time doesn’t want to see you hurting as much as you don’t want to hurt. “You can’t stay this way. They wouldn’t want you to stay this way.”

His words strike a cord and you finally lift your head to look him in the eyes. Time’s heart sinks. You look destroyed. Time wipes your face again, even if the tears are slowing down. “It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. All in due time. I’m sorry you’re hurting. I can’t help as much as I’d like.”

You sniffle again and lean in, resting your head on his shoulder once more. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you really needed that cry. “...You’re helping enough… Thank you, Link.”

Time nods and wraps his arms securely around you. “I’m here for you.”

[tealeavesandtrash]

Klave Micro Fic - @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt: hotel - 452 words

Klaus can’t remember the last time he slept in a bed this big. It’s been five months of too-small camp beds or the jungle floor with nothing more than his pack. And before Vietnam, it’d been a rotation of tattered sofas, cheap bunks in whatever rehab or shelters he’d ended up at, and (on more dire occasions) some back-alley dumpster. 

Maybe it was when he was with Alex (or was it Alec?) They’d had an amazing California King and was the only reason their relationship lasted as long as it did. (A whole two and half weeks before Alex got busted and ratted on him for a plea deal which landed Klaus in another court-ordered rehab visit.) 

Either way, it’s been well over a year and Klaus is taking full advantage of their shoddy little hotel room. The mattress is lumpy and the sheets are rough, but it’s cheap and at the end of the day Klaus is just glad to be out of the god-forsaken jungle even if it is only for a week. And he has Dave next to him - one arm slung across Klaus’ waist, chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm.

Sweet, perfect Dave who always has his back, who sits with him after nightmares and listens to Klaus ramble about things he couldn’t understand yet. Dave who, apparently, likes Klaus enough to pull him into the backroom of a disco, to take him back to his hotel room and fuck him senseless and not to kick him out afterwards. 

No one in Klaus’ life has treated him with the patience and kindness has Dave does which must be a good sign. Not that Klaus knows the hallmarks of a healthy relationship, but it’s a start. He doesn’t even know what sort of labels he wants on their relationship, if he's even ready for a relationship.  

The morning after their first night together, they talked around the topic - holed up in the hotel room, putting off leaving until the very last moment. Wrapped up in each other arms and in between lazy kisses, Dave told him that he wanted this moment to last forever and Klaus said that once everything was over they could run away together. 

And Klaus knows better than to trust morning talk, he’s spouted enough of those lies in the past just to keep a roof over his head. But he wants to trust Dave because Dave is different.

And that alone is terrifying because he’s built up so many walls to protect himself from the world but now they’re all beginning to crumble around him and Klaus doesn’t want it to fix them. He would lay himself bare if Dave asked him to. 

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight of the week: @aurevell! They have heaps of fics to choose from!

Under 10k:

Returning the Favor | T | 5k tags: established relationship, same age Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, fluff, Stiles doesn't know about werewolves Summary: Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

When Derek peers down into the dark, he finds the worst thing imaginable: his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar. "What are you doing here?" Derek hisses.

Burial Rituals | G | 4k tags: necromancer Stiles, cursed Derek, meet-cute Summary: The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

Sugar in my Coffee | G | 3k tags: no werewolves, established relationship, domestic fluff Summary: Derek’s not a morning person. Stiles would live on sugar if he could.

Lessons in Catiquette | T | 3k tags: creature Stiles, slice of life, pack bonding Summary: The pack’s resident werecat is kind of a mystery to Derek. Luckily, Stiles offers one-on-one tutoring.

It May Simply Lie in Wait | G | 5k tags: getting together, declarations of love, magical Stiles Summary: “This place is haunted as hell,” one boy says under his breath.

The house remembers itself, letting out a subtle upstairs creak to let them know what they’re in for. They enter anyway, inspecting its shamefully crumbled furnishings, running fingers over its tattered walls, crouching to peer at the ceiling tiles fallen on its floor, and the house—

The house does not chase them away.

Years after the fire, Derek and Stiles return to the Hale House. It isn’t sure how it feels about this.

Stories Over 10k:

The Only Thing Left | T | 13k tags: angst, no werewolves, creature Derek Summary: “You don’t need air,” Stiles echoes. “You swim. That doesn’t tell me much. What are you?”

Derek stares. He slowly lifts his shoulders and drops them back into the water.

Or, Stiles meets a stranger at the spring outside of town.

Where we Both Could Live | M | 16k tags: shy Derek, meet cute, friends to lovers Summary: Derek’s having a hard time falling asleep in his noisy new apartment.

His next-door neighbor, who always seems to be talking or singing, is surprisingly helpful with that problem.

The Third Sacrifice | T | 21k tags: magical Stiles, dark fairy tale elements, human sacrifice Summary: Stiles can see the writing on the wall. Everyone knows the Stilinskis are cursed, or magic, or both. He knows he’ll be picked as the third sacrifice—the one that dies for the sake of the harvest. But he doesn’t intend to let some ancient god rip his heart out, not if magic can help it.

If only Derek, his estranged best friend, would stop hounding him about his plans to escape.

A Badge for Everything | T | 11k tags: good alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, boy scout Stiles, getting together Summary: Stiles Stilinski is the only loser left in a pack full of wolves who’d do anything to leave their loser days behind.

(Everything’s the same, but Stiles is a boy scout. That’s it. That’s the story.)

The Beginner's Guide to Everyday Magic | T | 29k | 8 chapters tags: magical Stiles, Stiles is pushed out of the pack, fluff, angst, Studio Ghibli vibes Summary: When the latest threat sweeps into Beacon Hills, Derek decides that the very-much-human Stiles needs to be severed from the pack for his own safety. But when the ritual goes unexpectedly wrong, Stiles finds himself alone—and unable to reach out for help when he needs it most.

Cue a retreat to his mom’s old house, where he finds that magic is more real than he ever could have imagined.

Go check out aurevell's AO3 page, and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

[atlasthegreatest]

Fractured Lines / Aeri Uchinaga x Gender Neutral! Reader

In a world where emotions are masked by the glare of fame, Giselle grapples with the complexities of her long-standing friends-with-benefits relationship with Y/n. After years of keeping feelings at bay, everything changes when Y/n confesses their love, only to be met with Giselle’s rejection.

Warnings: Angsty chapter. Age gap. Not implied but the reader is a member of BTS.

Word count: 4129

In the hazy glow of Seoul’s skyline, Giselle lingered alone in the empty practice room, replaying their last conversation. She had turned Y/n down without hesitation — a reflex, a defense mechanism. Relationships weren’t meant for idols, she reminded herself. Not for her. But as the echo of their footsteps faded down the corridor and out of her life, the ache crept in, slow but relentless.

It hadn’t always been like this, the quiet longing woven between them. They’d started as friends, then something more — an unspoken understanding that blossomed from late nights and unguarded moments, a shared escape from the pressures of fame. They were each other’s release, the world falling away in those stolen hours. No strings. No expectations. Or so she had thought.

The confession had blindsided her.

“Aeri… I want something more. Something real.”

She’d scoffed at first, brushing it off as an absurd idea. They had always agreed: no feelings. Her refusal was instinctive, a shield for the both of them, she’d convinced herself. But as Y/n walked away, a cold emptiness settled in her chest. She didn’t expect them to just… end it.

Days blurred into each other, the weight of regret gnawing at her. The silence was unbearable, punctuated by memories of Y/n — their rare, unguarded laughter, and the warmth of their hand against hers. She hadn’t realized how much they’d come to mean to her, how deeply they’d settled into her life.

“You’ve been spacing out for days, Gi,” Karina pressed, her voice a gentle prod. She looked at Giselle with genuine concern, her gaze piercing.

“It’s nothing,” Giselle mumbled, fiddling with the hem of her hoodie. But even she could feel the crack in her voice, the vulnerability she’d tried to bury.

Ningning shook her head. “Come on, unnie. You know you can talk to us. We can tell something’s up.”

And suddenly, it all tumbled out — the late nights, the confessions, her stubborn pride, and the hollow ache left in Y/n’s absence.

“Maybe you’re just scared,” Winter said softly. “Scared of what you could have if you actually let yourself have it.”

Giselle’s defenses faltered. Had she pushed Y/n away because she was afraid? Afraid to want something real, something that went beyond the boundaries she’d set?

“Feelings aren’t the enemy, Giselle,” Karina murmured. “Sometimes… they’re worth the risk.”

The girl’s words resonated, unraveling the walls she’d built around herself. She was terrified, she realized — of vulnerability, of being hurt, of losing control. But maybe losing Y/n had already hurt more than she could handle.

————————-

Under the neon lights and midnight haze, Giselle found herself outside Y/n’s studio, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no rehearsed speech, no prepared confession — only the hope that it wasn’t too late.

When the door opened, Y/n looked at her with a guarded expression, their usual warmth replaced by a quiet sadness.

“I messed up,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I thought… I thought I didn’t need you. But I do. I always have.”

A beat passed, heavy and uncertain. And then Y/n’s eyes softened, a flicker of hope igniting between them.

They weren’t just words, they knew. They were her walls crumbling, her defenses laid bare. And, for the first time, they stood together with nothing held back.

As Y/n’s gaze met hers, Giselle felt exposed, as if the weight of every unspoken word and suppressed feeling was spilling over. She took a trembling breath, trying to steady herself, but her voice still wavered when she finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely able to hold Y/n’s gaze. “I thought I was protecting us… protecting myself. I thought I didn’t need you. But I was wrong.” Her hands clenched at her sides as she forced herself to continue. “I kept telling myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t mean as much as… as you do.”

Y/n studied her, silent, expression unreadable, and the void in their gaze was almost too much to bear. She couldn’t tell if they were angry or just done, and the thought that she might have ruined everything twisted like a knife in her chest.

“I didn’t know,” Y/n said at last, voice low and almost too calm. “I didn’t know that being with you would mean feeling so… disposable.” Their words were edged in a hurt she hadn’t realized she’d inflicted, and it cut her deeper than anything she’d ever heard. She wanted to reach for them, but her hands remained frozen at her sides, a mixture of shame and fear keeping her rooted.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I thought keeping things… simple would make it easier. For both of us.”

Y/n’s jaw clenched. “Easier?” They let out a mirthless laugh, but it was bitter, devoid of warmth. “You think pretending like this doesn’t mean anything makes it easier? For who, Aeri?” Her name left their lips like an accusation, and it tore through her.

The silence between them was suffocating, the weight of her mistakes pressing down on her, demanding she confront everything she’d tried to avoid.

For a moment, she thought they’d leave. Walk out, just as she had done to him all those nights ago. And she wouldn’t blame him if he did. But he stayed, waiting for her to find the words that might explain everything she was too afraid to admit.

“I was scared,” she whispered, the confession like poison in her throat. “Scared of how much I needed you. Scared that if I let myself feel it, I’d lose you anyway. And I just… I thought it was better to keep you at arm’s length than to get hurt.”

Y/n gaze softened, but the hurt remained etched in their features. “Aeri,” they said, their voice breaking slightly, “sometimes you have to take the risk. Because losing you… that was never a choice for me.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, but it was too late. Y/n saw the vulnerability she’d fought so hard to hide. And maybe, for the first time, she saw it too.

“What happens now?” she asked, voice barely audible. She was terrified of his answer, terrified that she’d lost them, that her fear had cost her everything.

Y/n hesitated, the weight of their history hanging between them like fragile glass, ready to shatter at any moment. Then, finally, they stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Slowly, cautiously, Y/n took her hand in theirs, their thumb tracing gentle patterns across her skin.

“I don’t know,” They admitted, voice laced with an honesty that both comforted and terrified her. “But maybe we can start with that. With not knowing and being okay with it.”

Giselle nodded, feeling a tentative hope she hadn’t let herself feel in years. The pain was still there, raw and unhealed, but for the first time, she let herself imagine a future — not perfect, not certain, but real.

She met Y/n’s gaze, the smallest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Then maybe… maybe I’m ready to take that risk too.”

In that moment, they stood together, two people finally unmasked, facing a new beginning they’d been too afraid to reach for — until now.

————————

The tension between them softened but didn’t disappear. Even as Y/n held her hand, the air was thick with everything left unsaid, every scar and hurt they’d left on each other in their attempts to avoid vulnerability. But they didn’t pull away, and she took that as a fragile thread of hope.

Giselle’s fingers trembled in Y/n’s. She hadn’t been this close to them in weeks, not since the night she’d thrown their confession back in their face. Now, the memory stung — a constant reminder of how much she’d almost lost. “I want to make it up to you,” she said quietly, struggling to put her feelings into words. “I know I messed up. I just… I want to try, if you’ll let me.”

Y/n looked at her with a softness that was laced with caution. “Aeri,” they murmured, “I’ve always been willing to try. But this can’t be like before. I need to know that I’m not just a way for you to escape or a convenience when things get hard.”

Their words struck her, reminding her of how much she’d hurt them in her attempts to protect herself. She realized Y/n had always been steady, always there, even when she’d pushed them away. It was she who had kept them at a distance, too scared to let herself feel anything real.

“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I made you feel like you didn’t matter. And… and I hate that I did that to you. I’ve spent so much time afraid of losing control that I didn’t realize I was losing you.”

Y/n studied her for a long moment, as if trying to see past her words to the truth beneath them. She held her breath, letting herself feel the vulnerability, the rawness she’d avoided for so long.

“You have to understand, Aeri,” Y/n said slowly, their gaze intense. “This isn’t something I can just jump back into. I need to know that you’re in this as much as I am, that you’re not going to pull back the moment it gets hard.”

“I am,” she promised, the words escaping before she could stop them. “I want to be with you. Not just as a friend, not just as… whatever we were. I want to be with you. Completely.”

For the first time, she saw something shift in Y/n’s expression, a flicker of relief mingling with the lingering hurt. Their hand tightened around hers as if grounding them both in the moment, giving them a chance to move forward.

“I missed you,” Y/n admitted softly, their thumb brushing across her knuckles. “More than I should have, after everything.”

Giselle felt her heartache at their words. “I missed you too,” she whispered, letting herself feel the weight of those words. “I thought I could handle being without you… but I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Y/n let out a soft sigh, a mix of frustration and affection. “Then let’s figure this out,” they said, their voice rough with emotion. “Let’s take it slow, and if it gets hard, we’ll work through it. No more running, Aeri.”

She nodded, her heart pounding. “No more running.”

As they stood there, hands intertwined, Giselle felt a sense of peace she hadn’t known in a long time. The road ahead was uncertain, full of challenges they’d both avoided for years. But for the first time, she was ready to face them — with them.

————————-

They lingered in the silence, their hands clasped together as if they were each other’s lifelines. The past few weeks had felt like drowning for Giselle, and now, finally, she could breathe again. But it was fragile, this moment — held together by a trust that had been fractured, by a bond they had nearly shattered in their fear and pride. She knew the path forward wouldn’t be easy. But this time, she was willing to do whatever it took.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly, marking the passage of time. She’d missed so many of these small, unspoken moments with Y/n — standing side by side, existing together without the weight of pretenses or walls. It felt surreal to be here now, trying to bridge a gap she’d built herself.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Y/n asked, breaking the silence, their voice carrying a faint, almost nostalgic warmth. “When you swore up and down that you’d never catch feelings, that this was all just… for fun?”

Giselle winced but managed a small, wry smile. “Yeah. I thought I was so clever, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Y/n replied, their eyes softening. “But you were also terrified.”

She nodded, unable to meet their gaze, feeling the weight of her own mistakes. “I think I thought that if I kept everything casual… I wouldn’t have to get hurt. I wouldn’t have to lose anything if it never became serious.”

Y/n tilted their head, studying her with an intensity that made her heart pound. “And now?”

Giselle took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of her vulnerability settling over her like a storm. “Now, I realize that not letting myself feel… I almost lost you because of it. And that’s worse than any pain I thought I’d feel by keeping things… safe.”

There was a pause, a heartbeat of silence where they both seemed to take in the weight of her words, the raw truth they held. She’d never been this honest with anyone — not even herself. She had spent years building walls, crafting her armor, pretending she was fine on her own. But now, looking at Y/n, she knew that being “fine” had never been enough.

“Thank you,” Y/n murmured, their thumb tracing circles against her skin, grounding her. “For saying that. For finally letting me in.”

A lump formed in her throat, a painful, bittersweet reminder of how much she had kept hidden, even from them. “I just wish… I’d realized sooner. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Y/n shook their head, a soft, forgiving smile playing on their lips. “We both made mistakes, Aeri. But we’re here now, right?”

The simplicity of their words, the quiet forgiveness in their tone, unraveled the last thread of her defenses. She could feel herself falling, her heart opening to them in a way she hadn’t allowed before. It scared her, the depth of what she felt, the enormity of what she was willing to risk. But more than that, it felt… right.

Y/n squeezed her hand as if sensing the battle raging within her. “Let’s take it one day at a time,” they said softly, their voice a soothing balm against her fears. “We don’t have to have it all figured out. We just have to… try.”

Giselle nodded, a sense of peace settling over her. “One day at a time,” she echoed, feeling the weight of those words, the promise they held. She knew there would be challenges, that the road ahead would be fraught with the pressures of their careers, the scrutiny of the public, and the scars of their insecurities. But for once, she was ready to face it all, as long as Y/n was by her side.

They stood in silence, neither needing to say anything more. For the first time, they weren’t just filling the silence with words. They were finally letting themselves exist together, imperfect and vulnerable, but no longer afraid.

Giselle glanced at Y/n, a small smile tugging at her lips. “So… where do we go from here?”

They grinned, a spark of their old self returning. “How about coffee first? And then… we’ll figure it out as we go.”

Giselle laughed, the sound easing the tension between them, softening the edges of her lingering fear. “Coffee sounds perfect.”

And as they walked out together, side by side, Giselle felt a strange, newfound hope flickering in her chest. She didn’t know where this would lead, how it would all unfold, but she didn’t need to. For the first time, she was willing to step into the unknown — with Y/n.

Bonus chapter:

Months had passed since that night, but every time Giselle looked at Y/n, she felt a flicker of wonder that they were still here, by her side, no longer just as a secret or a distant connection, but as something real. They were still figuring it out, still navigating the complexities of their lives as idols, but now they faced it together.

It was late, the city glowing through the window of Y/n’s apartment, and she was wrapped in their hoodie, curled up on the couch beside them. They’d made a habit of these quiet nights, where they could simply be themselves, unburdened by the outside world and its expectations. She cherished these moments — the easy laughter, the inside jokes, the way Y/n looked at her as if they could see right through her walls. They could, she realized now, and the thought no longer scared her.

“Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if we’d gotten here sooner?” Y/n asked, their voice soft, almost hesitant as if they were afraid to shatter the peace they’d found.

Giselle looked up at them, a gentle smile curving her lips. She had asked herself that question countless times, imagining what they could have been if she hadn’t let fear hold her back for so long. But maybe the timing, flawed as it was, had been necessary. They’d both needed to grow, to confront their insecurities before they could truly find each other.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder. “But I think… maybe we wouldn’t have been ready back then. I know I wasn’t.”

Y/n nodded, their arm wrapping around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe you’re right. We both had things we needed to work through.” They paused, glancing down at her. “But I’m glad we’re here now.”

They sat in silence, the warmth between them grounding, comforting. The world outside could be relentless, and demanding — especially for them, living under a microscope, each step scrutinized by millions. But here, in this small bubble of their own making, they didn’t have to be anything but themselves.

After a moment, Y/n shifted, reaching for something on the coffee table. Giselle watched curiously as they pulled out a small notebook, its edges worn and pages dog-eared. Y/n handed it to her with a faint smile. “I, uh… wrote something,” they said, their voice barely above a whisper. “For you.”

Giselle blinked, surprised, before taking the notebook in her hands. She opened it, her heart racing as she scanned the words. It was a letter — one that they’d been writing for months, each page a testament to everything they’d felt and kept hidden, all the emotions they’d been too afraid to voice.

Her eyes traced the ink, her throat tightening with every sentence. Y/n wrote about their beginning, about the quiet ache they’d carried when she kept pushing them away, about the nights they’d spent hoping she’d let them in. And then, Y/n wrote about now — about the moments they shared, the fragile joy they’d built together, and how they’d do it all over again, even the painful parts, just to be here with her.

By the time she finished reading, her cheeks were damp with silent tears. She looked up at them, unable to speak, her heart swelling with an emotion so deep it left her breathless. She hadn’t known they’d felt this much, hadn’t realized the extent of Y/n’s love until now.

Y/n brushed a tear from her cheek, their hand gentle, their touch grounding. “I don’t expect you to say anything,” they murmured, a soft smile gracing their lips. “I just wanted you to know.”

Giselle took a shaky breath, setting the notebook aside and reaching for Y/n’s hand, threading her fingers through theirs. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “For loving me even when I didn’t know how to let you. For waiting… when I was too scared to see what was right in front of me.”

Y/n smiled, their gaze tender. “You were worth the wait, Aeri.”

Giselle’s heart twisted at their words, and she leaned into them, pressing her forehead against theirs. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this before,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “But I love you. More than I thought I could.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and they pulled her closer, their arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. For a long moment, they simply held each other, letting the words settle, letting the weight of their journey come full circle.

They’d found each other, despite everything, despite all the obstacles they’d thrown their way. And now, finally, they were here, together, ready to face whatever came next.

The world outside felt distant, like a faint echo of a life they’d once known. Wrapped in each other’s arms, Giselle let herself sink into the moment, the warmth of Y/n grounding her, their heartbeat a steady reassurance against her cheek. She had always thought of love as something fleeting, something dangerous — but here, with them, it felt safe, something she could hold without fear of it slipping away.

————————-

They stayed that way for a long while, letting the quiet surround them, words unnecessary. She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Y/n’s chest as they breathed, the rhythm calming her, settling into her heart. This, she realized, was what she had been searching for, even in all those late nights when she’d tried to convince herself she didn’t need anyone. She’d found something worth risking everything for, someone who had seen her at her most vulnerable and chosen to stay.

After a while, Y/n shifted slightly, their hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. Giselle opened her eyes, meeting their gaze, and felt her heart skip at the softness there. “You know,” Y/n murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of their mouth, “I don’t think I ever imagined we’d end up here. But now that we are, I don’t want to let it go.”

Giselle’s fingers tightened around theirs. She felt a surge of emotion, the certainty she had denied herself for so long finally settling within her. “Neither do I,” she whispered, her voice thick with honesty. “I don’t think I ever really understood what it meant to be with someone like this… but now, I don’t want to go back to pretending it doesn’t matter.”

Y/n leaned their forehead against hers, eyes closing, as if they were taking in her words, letting them seep into every guarded part of them. They’d both built walls, and both been afraid, but somehow they had found each other through the cracks. It wasn’t perfect, and it never would be, but maybe that was what made it real.

After a beat, Y/n pulled back slightly, their hand still holding hers as they looked at her with a hint of mischief. “So,” they said, their voice lighter now, teasing, “does this mean you’re finally willing to admit I was right all along?”

Giselle rolled her eyes, a laugh escaping her despite herself. “Don’t push it,” she replied, nudging Y/n playfully. But the laughter faded, replaced by a quiet warmth as she looked at them, her fingers tracing small circles on the back of their hand. “But… yeah. You were right. About everything.”

Y/n chuckled, their thumb brushing across her knuckles in a soothing, familiar rhythm. “I’ll try not to gloat too much.”

They settled back into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt like a shared secret. The clock on the wall ticked softly, but neither of them felt the urge to move. Outside, the city lights glowed against the darkness, distant and unobtrusive, a world that no longer felt quite so heavy.

After a while, Y/n spoke, their voice hesitant, as if testing the waters of something fragile. “Do you think we’ll be able to keep this — us — away from the public? The rumors, the fans… it’s a lot to balance.”

Giselle took a deep breath, considering Y/n’s words. She knew the weight of their careers, the scrutiny that came with every decision, every glance, and every interaction. They had always lived under a microscope, every move analyzed and dissected. But for the first time, she felt a quiet resolve.

“It won’t be easy,” she admitted, her hand squeezing Y/n’s. “But I think… if we’re careful, if we trust each other, we can find a way to make it work. And even if the world finds out, as long as we’re honest with each other, I think we’ll be okay.”

Y/n smiled, relief was evident in their eyes. “I like that,” they said softly. “Us against the world.”

They stayed like that, nestled together, talking quietly about the future — about ways to sneak moments together, about the dreams they had both kept locked away, about the things they wanted to share. There was so much still unknown, so many challenges they couldn’t predict, but they faced them all with a newfound sense of unity. It wasn’t about having all the answers; it was about the choice they were making now, together.

Eventually, Y/n pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and Giselle felt a warmth bloom in her chest, a feeling of belonging she’d never known she could have. This was their beginning, imperfect and fragile, but real.

And as they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, Giselle knew that whatever came next, they’d face it together.

[matchaxberries]

Hello :) May I please have megumi from jujutsu kaisen x gn!reader but with female parts? It's not super important to me how you go about the plot specifics, but something like hurt/comfort? A healthy mix of fluff and smut probably. Thank you bestie<3

His Bunny

Megumi Fushiguro x Gn!Reader

One-shot, Requested, NSFW (smut)

Summary: (Y/n) and Megumi are sent on a small mission to scout out an abandoned hospital. With the suspicion there would be no cursed spirits, or no danger, only they were sent. That turns around for them when they split up to two different hallways. Megumi makes up for it later on, to (y/n).

Warnings: Reader described with female anatomy, Established relationship, I am bad at smut, blood and slight gore descriptions (not extreme), injured reader, angst into fluff into smut, oral (reader receiving), slight degradation, praise, pet name “bunny”, slight edging, slight begging, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie? I think that’s all?

(A/N) I know who you are anon :3 It is my friend guys they love me. Megumi might be a bit ooc, I actually do not like him that much. But I will write my heart out for you. I’m trying to think about how to go about this, so pretend you and Megumi were on a mission alone to investigate an abandoned hospital, with the intentions of not finding any cursed spirits and only to do a quick browse.

A groan slips through (y/n)‘s lips, “I thought we would have the day off today, this sucks.” They make their way through a slightly crumbled door, the framing of it cracked, and debris from the top lays at the bottom of it for them to step over. Megumi keeps his hands in his pockets as he steps over the rock and debris. He’s usually quiet, and doesn’t say too much back. But, (y/n) knows that’s just how he is, and doesn’t mind leading the conversations for them both. “Make sure you pay close attention. Even if we think there’s no cursed spirits, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.” He comments, watching (y/n) walk around without much thought.

“I know to be careful, Megumi.” They pout at him, lightly kicking a small rock around. “It’s weirdly quiet, don’t you think?” They ask, looking up at him. He gives a small nod, placing his hand on top of their head, “we should go down opposite hallways to clear more ground, we will meet back up here in thirty if we don’t find anything.” He ruffles their hair lightly, turning and making his way down the hallway to their right. (Y/n) let’s out a hum, going to the left of them.

(Y/n) comes across quite a lot of rooms, glancing into a few briefly. “I don’t sense anything or see anything…” They mumble to themself, deciding to go into a random room that was oddly blocked in by rubble. They rest their hand over top of the pile, pulling themself over it swiftly, hitting the floor on the other side with a small click of their shoes. They look at the wall, as it’s covered in spray paint and graffiti. “Geez, way to disrespect property...” They trace the paint on the wall with their finger, as a sudden rumbling starts.

Their eyes quickly flick to the source of the sound, locking eyes with many spray painted eyes, that begin forming into real ones all over the wall. The wall begins popping out with disgusting noises, purple and bumpy skin like substances forming around the big eyes. Arms begin to take form, as it pulls itself from the wall. (Y/n) starts backing away in shock, eyes still locked into the spirit’s multiple ones. They bump against the pile of rocks and debris at the entrance, putting a hand on it to jump out of the room and run to Megumi for help, but they’re cut short as a large purple hand smacks above them, causing more rubble to fall and block in the area they were able to slip in through before. “Dammit.” They quickly curse to themselves, going to put their hands together to start their technique, but they went too slow, as the large purple hand comes down onto themself, crashing and rumbling the room around them.

Megumi glances around himself, feeling the sudden pressure of cursed energy. Along with the rumbling beneath his feet, he starts running back down where he came from, into the main area, the rumbling slightly getting louder, he stops for a quick moment putting his hands together, “Demon dogs!” His black shikigami forming at the shadow of his feet, snarling and running down the hall (y/n) had gone down. Megumi feels a pit form in his stomach, swallowing hard and following his dog down the hall.

Purple energy thickens the air as he comes to a stop at a door covered with rocks, and debris. His dog butting into it as it crumbles down, Megumi quickly rushes in seeing (y/n) grasped in the large spirit’s hand. Multiple eyes snap to Megumi, with an almost disgusting noise. It’s hand comes down to hit Megumi the same as it did (y/n), but his shikigami jumps up biting through its arm, “(Y/n!)” Megumi calls out, but he receives no response. The pit in his stomach getting heavier, as he desperately hopes you’re okay.

The cursed spirit is finally defeated after some time, Megumi panicking as (y/n) lays against the wall. He runs up closer to them, crouching down. He lightly grabs their face, lifting it up to inspect them. Blood dripping from their mouth, and eyes shut closed. Their limbs are completely limp, and their head is heavy in his hands. “Don’t die, don’t do that to me.” He mumbles to himself, lifting them up and going as quick as he can to get you somewhere to be patched up.

A groan sounds from (y/n)‘s lips. Their ears filled with sounds of birds chirping, and a light breathing near them. They sit up suddenly, but pain shoots to their head. “Fuck…” they let out, hands meeting their head, holding it tight. They blink a few times, looking around them. They recognize their own shared room with Megumi. They don’t recognize the bandages wrapped tightly around their mid-section, wrapped over their shoulder, and the few regular patches of bandaids on their face. They glance over to a sleeping Megumi, slumped over in a chair.

(Y/n) gives a small sigh, of relief and worry. They throw their legs over the bed facing the other direction, throat dry, and mouth feeling like cotton. As their feet meet the cold floor, they begin to fall forward, eyes wide. A pair of arms quickly wrap around their waist, pulling them back up, and to the bed. “Be careful, (y/n).” Megumi states, stoic expression as usual, but under his eyes there’s dark lines, and a bandage placed over his cheek. (Y/n) reaches their hand up to his face, lightly rubbing the cheek that isn’t bandaged up. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.” They say, throat croaking. “Don’t apologize to me, I was so worried, (y/n).” He begins, “you’ve been asleep for four days, I thought you weren’t going to wake up.” His hand shaking lightly, as he brings it up to meet theirs, which still rests against his cheek. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get there in time. You still were hurt because of me, we shouldn’t of split up.” He starts ranting lightly, something he does when worried. “Megumi, shh… It’s okay, we’re both okay.” (Y/n) pets his hair, bringing him into their own chest.

Megumi let’s out a small satisfactory sigh, and he allows himself to be dragged into a laying position on the bed with them, wrapping his arms around their torso. He keeps his head stuffed in their chest, breathing in their scent that he missed. He didn’t want to lay by them, and accidentally hurt them, so he’s waited to do anything but hold their hand while they were resting. (Y/n) continues to pet his hair, thinking for a bit while doing so. “Megumi,” they start, “Yes?” He replies quickly, looking up at them from his position in their chest.

“I know how you can make up for getting me hurt…” They pout, with a small teasing frown. Megumi sits up in the bed, crossing his legs. He looks at them, with a tilt of his head. “What is it?” He questions, not realizing the teasing intent of their words. (Y/n) sits themself up slowly, leaning back against the headboard. They lightly grab Megumi by the hair, pulling him forward. He allows it and falls over top of them, keeping himself up by his arm at either side of them, his body in between their legs. He stares into their eyes, still waiting for an answer. (Y/n) continues to run their fingers through his black hair, “don’t make me spell it out for you, Megumi.” They pout. He takes a moment to consider their position, looking down at himself between their legs. A light blush spreads to his ears, “whatever you’d like, bunny.” He places a gentle kiss to their lips, not wanting to shake them too much. Today, he will be much gentler than usual. He owes them, of course.

Megumi slips his hands into their shirt, pulling it gently up over their head, making sure not to mess with any bandages. (Y/n) only lets out a small hum, feeling the cool air hit their body that’s now been exposed. Megumi makes his way to their chest, rubbing his thumb over their sensitive tip. He begins to lay kisses, and light bites down their neck, and down the shoulder that isn’t damaged. (Y/n) keeps their hands tangled in his hair, letting out deep breaths of air.

“Megumi-“ (y/n) starts, as he presses his knee against their still clothed heat. Grinding it lightly against it, he hums into their neck continuing to leave his marks and bites all over it.

Another few seconds later, he’s down in between their legs, stripping them of their first layer of clothes, the only layer left is thin, the only thing keeping him from dipping himself into their folds. He runs a finger along the fabric, right over their entrance. (Y/n) let’s out a small moan, biting their own lip to keep themselves from unfolding so quickly, to keep from begging Megumi to just use their throbbing cunt already. “You’re already this wet, bunny?” He questions them, feeling the wetness through their underwear. “Be still, I don’t want to hurt your head.” He sits up a bit more than he was, to move a pillow behind them so they aren’t making hard contact with the headboard behind them. He quickly makes his way back down though, placing his fingers right where they belong.

He continues to tease through the fabric, rubbing and even licking at it every so often. “Megumi, please…” (Y/n) pouts. “Hm? I can’t hear you.” He continues rubbing their sensitive bud with his fingers, amused at the wetness soaking their underwear. (Y/n)‘s desperate pleas and moans fill the air. Megumi let’s out a small chuckle against their cunt, sending vibrations straight to their core. (Y/n) grips his hair a bit harder, forcing his face down into their underwear. He continues to lick at the fabric, earning more tugs and whines at his locks. He uses his free finger to pull the underwear to the side, diving right into their warm entrance. He uses one finger at their clit, rubbing it in circular motions as his tongue does the rest inside of them. (Y/n) let’s out moans of his name, and tugs at his hair as he stays right in between their thighs. Pushing them against his head lightly, back arching slightly at the continuous pleasure.

Megumi feels himself throb from the way their walls clench around his tongue. His stomach heating up, sending heat straight to his length still tucked away in his pants. He stops eating at them for a moment, “So desperate to cum on my tongue, aren’t you?” He comments. He earns a whine from (y/n), from suddenly stopping the continuous pleasure. He undoes the button of his jeans, pulling the waist band down slightly, along with his boxers. His erection jumping out as he takes it in his own free hand, the other hand to hold (y/n)’s thigh down, he goes back to work with his tongue, pushing deep into them. He lightly pumps his fist against his own length, earning low grunts from himself into (y/n)’s core. They begin to beg for their release, letting out pants and whines as they press their legs even tighter around Megumi’s head.

As soon as they feel that deep heat rushing to their stomach, Megumi pulls away. “Megumi!” They whine out, “I was so close…” They continue to whine, trying to stuff his face back into their dripping hole. He chuckles, rubbing his own pre-cum down his shaft. He moves up over them, hands pinned to their sides. “Do you want to finish, (y/n)?” He questions, rubbing his tip against their sensitive heat.

(Y/n) frantically nods, “please Megumi, I want to finish. Let me finish for you-“ they blabber out, already pathetic from barely any stimulation. Megumi continues to rub against them, dick twitching slightly from the friction he is gaining. He presses himself into (y/n), “only because you’re being so good, and because I owe it to you.” He continues pressing his length into them. (Y/n)’s walls flex around him, as he lets out a groan. He gets himself all the way in, beginning to thrust in and out of them lightly. He listens to their moans filling the air along with the wet squishing of their bodies coming together.

“Megumi! Please, more. I need you!” (Y/n) begs wrapping their legs around Megumi’s waist, and wrapping their arms around his neck. He continues his thrusts, keeping his speed and pace at a constant. He brings his hand to play with their chest, another hand gripping tightly at their waist to keep them in place for his thrusts. He’s biting his lip, knitting his brow together as small beads of sweat form at his hairline. “You’re such a good bunny, (y/n). So tight around my cock…” He groans, feeling his dick twitch, stomach tightening.

“Megumi! I’m gonna-“ (Y/n) begins, shaking ever so slightly under his grip. Their core flutters, gripping tightly around Megumi still fucking into their entrance. His thrusts start to get sloppy, and he pushes himself as far as he can, his thighs meeting theirs as he finishes deep inside of them, their own release coming at the same time. Moans and grunts sounding all around the room, Megumi takes a deep breath in, waiting for a moment before pulling his length back out of (y/n). When he pulls out, some of their mixer fluids begin to gush out, but he makes no hesitation in using his fingers to push it up back inside. “We can’t have my cum spilling out of you, keep it in there.” He chuckles, lightly pumping his fingers in and out of them for only a moment. (Y/n) whines, body aching and sensitive from the small touch.

Megumi comes back to the room with a warm and damp cloth. Kneeling back onto the bed and spreading (y/n)’s legs back apart. He hums as he cleans up the mess of their thighs, and makes sure to clean off their entrance as well. Nothing else is leaking out, so he praises them quickly. They whine at the contact, and sudden praise. Megumi’s boxers are already pulled back up, and he seemed to of changed into comfier pajama pants. His shirt is gone, and his muscles in his arms flex slightly as he continues cleaning (y/n) up. They watch as he finishes cleaning them, he sits the rag to the side walking over to a drawer at their dresser. He gets out a clean pair of underwear for them, and one of his own shirts.

He slides their now dirty underwear off them, which was only still on one leg. He slides the new pair up, fresh fabric meeting (y/n), and they let out a content sigh. Megumi chuckles at them slightly, pulling his own shirt over their head. “In the morning, you’ll be sore. From your wounds, and that, I’ll change all your bandages tomorrow.” (Y/n) replies with a nod, as Megumi pulls their comforter over them, sliding in by their side. He wraps his strong arms around their waist, very gently pulling them into himself. He nuzzles his head into their hair, sniffing lightly.

“I love you, Megumi.” (Y/n) mumbled. “I love you, (y/n).” He replies, as they both close their eyes and get ready for a much needed rest together.

Word count: 2,604

Character count: 14,300

(A/N 2) This took me kinda of forever to write. I’m rusty with smut, forgive me. A friend requested this, and gave me a list of things I could include in it, that’s why there’s a lot of things not mentioned in the ask. :3

Masterlist

Request Rules

[isa-beenme]

friends to lovers with Azriel? they’re both secretly pining after each other and even flirt but it has never gone past that

Fun fact: I received 3 or 4 of the same request of friends to lovers and now I have to think of different stories for each of them (how much do I hate myself? Here's the answer)

One more prompt babies (getting in trouble), send the request for her so I can finish the bingo or I'll never write again 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

Also, please comment on the posts, I get super happy and it definitely makes me go back to Google Docs to finish what I'm currently writing

I Think He Knows

It basically started weeks ago when you were researching something you couldn't even remember what it was that Rhysand asked. You were deep into the books, nothing was making sense in your mind and frustration was starting to set in as you struggled to find the answers you sought. Azriel silently slipped into the library and observed you from the shadows, captivated by the sight of you so concentrated and focused on your work. He noticed the frustration building in you, unable to resist, he stepped forward, revealing himself with his usual quiet grace.

-Need some assistance? - His velvet voice reached your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up, your eyes locking with his, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

-Well, I wouldn't mind a second opinion on this research - You replied, trying to maintain your composure despite the sudden warmth spreading through your cheeks.

Azriel moved closer, leaning over your shoulder to examine the texts you had been poring over. The close proximity sent your heart racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

-You're looking in the wrong section - He said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as he pointed to a nearby shelf.

Your hands touched, and you both felt a jolt of electricity shoot through you. You glanced up, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Azriel's lips quirked into a faint smile, as if he knew the effect he had on you.

-Let me show you - He offered, gesturing for you to follow him.

You walked together through the aisles of books, discussing the research, and exchanging ideas. You found yourself drawn to Azriel's intellect and the way he effortlessly wove his knowledge into the conversation. As you spoke, the flirtatious undertones became more evident. You teased each other playfully, your laughter filling the library like music. It was as if you had known each other for years, despite the fact that this was the first time you had engaged in a real conversation alone.

Usually all your interactions with the Inner Circle had Rhysand's presence. And besides the fact that you considered and was equally considered by all of them as a friend, this was the first time you actually talked alone with Azriel, no need to keep formality or the topic of work getting in the way. The more you flirted, the more you realized how easy it was to be yourself around him. Walls that you had carefully built began to crumble, revealing your true self, vulnerable and unguarded.

The spark of attraction between you was undeniable, and it left both of you surprised and intrigued. It was a dance you hadn't expected to partake in, but neither of you could resist the magnetic pull that drew you closer.

As the night wore on, you reluctantly bid each other farewell, promising to meet again in the library to help each other if necessary. But even as you walked away, your thoughts were consumed by him and only him.

In the days that followed, your flirtatious encounters continued, fueled by a desire you couldn't ignore. Each meeting left you wanting more, and yet you hesitated, unsure of the depths you were diving into. Suddenly you were being invited to family dinners and the Valkyries' training. You weren't sure who exactly you should blame: Rhysand and his necessity of taking you under his wing or Azriel with the need of having you closer to him. Somehow you knew the answer without asking directly.

The Night Court's dinner table was a scene of elegance and camaraderie as the Inner Circle gathered for their nightly meal. Amidst the laughter and casual conversations, Azriel and you found yourselves seated beside each other, eyes locked in a silent promise of something more. Your foot unintentionally brushed against Azriel's calf under the table, sending a thrill through both of you. Azriel's fingers ghosted along the back of your hand, a subtle invitation to continue the game you started playing.

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged bemused glances, sensing the charged atmosphere between their two friends. Feyre tried to hide a knowing smile, while Amren raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. You carefully leaned in, your lips so close to Azriel's ear that your warm breath sent shivers down his spine.

-You're playing a dangerous game - You whispered, your voice laden with mischief.

-Danger happens to be my job, dear - Azriel replied, his voice husky and filled with desire.

As the dinner conversation flowed around you, Azriel and you engaged in a subtle dance of seduction beneath the table. Your fingers intertwined, your touch light but electrifying, as you teased each other with playful caresses. You let your fingers trail along Azriel's forearm, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. Azriel responded in kind, brushing his thumb across the outside of thigh, deliberate circles that left your craving more.

The rest of the Inner Circle exchanged glances, unable to believe what you were witnessing. Cassian leaned over to Rhysand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

-I think we're witnessing the birth of a mating bond - He teased, causing Rhysand to chuckle. Across the table, Mor was trying her best to suppress a grin, while Amren simply rolled her eyes, unimpressed by your antics.

Nestha, always one to relish in mischief, decided to stir the pot. With a sly grin, she looked at Azriel and you at his side, already planning a way to burst the bubble you settle yourselves in.

-So, Shadowsinger, what's the most daring thing you've ever done? Cassian just told his - Her mate looked at her confused, until he realized her plan and agreed along with the rest of the table. Azriel's eyes twinkled with mischief as he slightly turned his gaze towards you.

-Oh, I think I'd rather show than tell - You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you didn't back down.

-And what about you, Rhys? What's the most thrilling thing you've ever experienced that didn't involve your mate? - You turned to Rhysand and asked with a playful glint in your eye. The High Lord only chuckled, sensing the game you were playing.

-Well, it might just be seeing the way Azriel flirts with someone he cares about, it's rather fun, to say the least - He replied, glancing pointedly at his spymaster.

Azriel's lips quirked up in a knowing smile, and he leaned towards you, his voice low and suggestive, as he spoke high enough for everyone at the table to hear.

-Oh, don't worry, my love, I save my best for you - Your heart skipped a beat at his response, but you maintain your composure, turning the tables again. You looked at Cassian, one that looked very amused by the whole interaction.

-Cassian, have you ever been so captivated by someone that you couldn't take your mind off them to the point you simply did and said stupid things all the time? - Cassian grinned, understanding the game and more than willing to play along.

-Well, you see, I have a habit of getting distracted by a certain female warrior with mesmerizing eyes - He replied, winking at Nesta, who rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile.

-And what about you, Az? Have you ever been so captivated by someone that left you breathless? - Azriel met your gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

-Every time I look at you - He answered, his voice soft and sincere. Feyre quickly interrupted the moment to get Nyx who started to cry in his bedroom, cutting out the atmosphere that was building up.

The next day you had to keep working as if nothing changed, even if you and Azriel were becoming more and more shameless at each encounter. The library in the Night Court was always a sanctuary of knowledge, and you found solace amidst the ancient texts and dusty books. The spymaster often changed his plans to find you there, absorbed in the magic of the written word, only to engage in another one of the flirtatious conversations you always lead each other, even if this wasn't exactly the original plan.

In this particular afternoon, you were stretching on your tiptoes, trying to reach a book on the highest shelf. As you strained to grasp it, you felt a familiar presence behind you. A soft, warm breath grazed the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Azriel's velvety voice caressed your ear,

-Need some help? - You turned to find Azriel standing so close that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. Your heart fluttered, but you masked your flustered state with a playful smirk.

-Oh, so you're finally offering to be useful, Shadowsinger? - You teased, your eyes locking with his. A mischievous glint danced in Azriel's eyes as he reached for the book, effortlessly retrieving it from the shelf. Instead of handing it to you, he held it just out of your reach, enjoying the proximity between your bodies.

-I always knew you'd come to appreciate my usefulness - He replied, his voice low and teasing.

You refused to back down, your competitive spirit coming to the surface. You leaned in, closing the distance between you, and attempted to snatch the book from his grasp. But Azriel was too quick, tilting his hand just enough to evade you. Your faces were now mere inches apart, and the tension between you crackled like electricity. With a smoldering look, Azriel brought the book down slightly, just teasingly close to your fingers.

-If you want it, you'll have to work for it - He challenged, his lips quirking into a seductive smile.

Your breath hitched at the playful yet alluring demeanor of the warrior. Determined to match his boldness, you leaned in even closer, allowing your lips to brush against his.

-I don't mind a little challenge - A low growl rumbled in Azriel's throat, and he gave up, handing you the book. But he didn't step back, instead, he closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his body against yours, creating an intoxicating blend of heat and desire.

Your eyes locked once more, and the air around you crackled with tension. Without thinking, Azriel's fingers grazed your cheek, tracing a path along your jawline. Yourheart pounded wildly, the sensation of his touch igniting a fire within you.

-You have no idea what you do to me - Azriel admitted huskily, his voice thick with desire.

-Show me - You whispered, unable to resist the pull you felt towards him any longer.

In that moment, the world around you ceased to exist. The library faded away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a haze of passion and longing. With an intensity you had both kept bottled up for too long, you surrendered to each other's embrace, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss that ignited a love that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your whispered affections and tender touches among the books unveiled the truth you had both been hiding – that you were more than friends, that your souls had found your match. Your lips couldn't seem to snap away from his, the book long forgotten in the ground as you entangled your hands in his hair and pulled him closer.

-... Are you somewheEAHHH - Gwyn's scream made you separate from Azriel in a flash, her eyes almost popping out of her head as she took in the scene in front of her, all the priestess around stepping closer to understand the commotion - Clotho is asking if you found the book - She pointed behind her, a smile playing in her as the Shadowsinger quickly bid you goodbye and ran away. You threw the book at your friend when she started to laugh - I just want to see how the training is going to be tomorrow.

And honestly? You wanted to know too.

Training sessions in the House of the Wind were usually filled with a lot of matches between the girls and intense training, but today was different. You and Azriel found yourselves paired together as a matter of destiny, the air around you charged with an electric tension that couldn't be ignored. As you sparred, the other Valkyries couldn't help but watch, completely shocked by the intense flirtation that unfolded before them. Gwyneth being the one pinpointing the looks you threw to him.

Your eyes locked with Azriel's as you circled each other, each movement purposeful and tantalizing. He could see the fire burning in your eyes, and it only fueled his desire to provoke you further . With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge, inviting you to make the first move.

You didn't disappoint. In a swift motion, you lunged, your blades dancing gracefully through the air. Azriel effortlessly parried your strikes, your weapons clashing with a resounding echo. But beneath the fierce combat, there was an undercurrent of something more, a seductive dance of pure desire from the last day. Azriel leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear as you defended his attack.

-You are fighting with such passion today, what happened? - He laughed when you pushed him far from you with a kick - It's almost intoxicating - A shiver ran down the reader's spine as you met his gaze, unyielding.

-I'm just getting started - You replied, your voice dripping with provocation - Someone started something and couldn't finish. Let's see if you can end this fight at least.

Your banter continued as you moved in sync, each anticipating the other's moves. The sexual tension between you was palpable, and the other Valkyries couldn't tear their eyes away, their training momentarily forgotten. Azriel's wings unfurled slightly, showcasing his strength and power.

-You know - He suddenly said, his voice deep and alluring, but not low enough to not let your public hear, ever the exhibitionist he was - I could show you a few moves that aren't part of the regular training regimen - Your cheeks flushed when you heard the gasps from the other females, but you didn't back down. Instead, you leaned in even closer, your body inches from his.

-And what kind of moves are those, Shadowsinger? - You purred, your tone daring him to reveal his thoughts.

-The kind that leaves you breathless - He teased, the double entendre not lost on the watching Valkyries when some of them let out small screams of excitement.

- I bet you could teach me something new, anyway - A wicked grin tugged at the corners of your mouth when he growled after your words, trying to strike you down.

The training session continued with a fervor, the intensity between you and Azriel growing with each exchange. Your bodies moved in harmony, pushing each other to new limits. At one point, you managed to disarm Azriel and pin him to the ground, and for a brief moment, you had the upper hand. But Azriel didn't seem bothered by it; instead, he wore an approving smile.

-Impressive - He murmured, his voice dripping with admiration.

Your closeness was almost suffocating, the desire between you reaching a breaking point. The other Valkyries exchanged glances, unsure if they should intervene or let the fiery tension run its course.

As the training session came to an end, you and Azriel stood face to face, breathing heavily from the exertion. The intensity in your eyes was undeniable, and you both knew that this was just the beginning of something. The Valkyries couldn't help but gasp as Azriel leaned in, his lips dangerously close to yours.

-You have no idea of what you've done to me, the hunger you awake - He whispered, his voice dark and alluring.

-If it's any closer to what I'm feeling then you better be prepared to satisfy it, Shadowsinger - With a playful smile, you replied before you stepped away from the training grounds, leaving the other Valkyries in a state of awe and disbelief. Your flirtatious dance had left a remarkable message between you and Azriel, one that you would try to ignore as best as you could, even against your will.

Weeks of tension and flirting had passed between you and Azriel. The subtle glances, teasing words, lingering touches, and sometimes a kiss or other had kept both of your hearts racing. Yet, neither of you dared to take the leap beyond your friendship. One evening, after a gathering at the Town House, you found yourself seeking solace and guidance from Feyre, always the good listener High Lady. She smiled knowingly as you spilled your heart out, admitting your crush on Azriel and detailing the last few weeks of encounters with him, not knowing when to point out the sudden change in your friendship with him.

-You know, I don't think he's disinterested in you. Azriel is just cautious, especially with matters of the heart - Feyre reassured you, caressing your head that was in her lap.

-I mean, he's obviously not disinterested in me. The thing is, does he want a relationship or just this weird kissing friendship we are doing? I think he knows I like him, it's impossible to not know. Even Nyx confirmed, he called me auntie, it's because I'm gonna marry his uncle, right? - She laughed at you, and you playfully smack her arm - I'm being serious. Solve this problem, you are the High Lady, you're supposed to be serious when one of your subjects needs help.

-Do you want a relationship with him, darling? - You stopped to think about her question, the moments you spent with Azriel popping in your head, before and after the mess you created, a smile growing in your face at the memories.

-Yes. Definitely - You whispered, receiving a smile from Feyre as well, her eyes shining with some suspicious glint behind them.

-Then tell him. He might be waiting for your confession too - You quickly nodded, giving her a kiss on the cheek before getting up from your spot.

Feeling a bit more encouraged, you returned to your quarters, unaware that Azriel had overheard the entire conversation from the shadows. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized the depth of your feelings for him, and he knew it was time to act over his own.

Before you could even close the door behind you, Azriel stepped out of the darkness and into your room. Startled, you turned to face him, but before you could speak, he gently closed the door and pinned you against the wood with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. His hazel eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

-I've known about your feelings - He admitted in a husky whisper - And I've been a fool for not making a move sooner - A shiver ran down your spine as his warm breath caressed your skin.

-Azriel - You managed to say, your heart racing with anticipation. He cupped your face with his hand, his thumb stroking your cheek softly.

-I've been in love with you too, but I was scared. Scared of losing our friendship, scared of hurting you, of making something wrong, of you changing your mind, I don't know - He confessed. You placed your hand over his heart, feeling it race beneath your touch.

-I don't want to lose you either - You could only admit, your voice filled with vulnerability as you couldn't say anything else.

-You won't - Azriel assured you, his voice steady but full of emotion - I promise to cherish and protect what we have, and I'll prove my devotion to you everyday from now on, if you let me - You could only agree under his eyes, your body heating at each word.

With that, he leaned in, closing the distance between you and capturing your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. The world around you melted away once again as you fully surrendered to the feelings you had kept hidden for so long.

Your hands explored each other's bodies gently, reveling in the newfound intimacy between you. Azriel's touch was both passionate and cautious, showing his care for you. As you deepened the kiss, you knew that this moment would mean the world from now on.

[jolalibrary]

i and love and you

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (helen!reader) wc: 2.7k || warnings: ghost in his feels, fluff, ghost!fluff. summary: her eyes meet his, and he doesn’t drop his gaze. his brain goes silent, just like the night around them. from here, he’s reacting. he’s listening, even if words aren’t being spoken—wishing he could remove his mask instead. an: for helen lovers, this a cute, fluff flashback. and is before the proposal. dedication: for @guyfieriii, the one i'd sit on a rooftop with and take out a sharpie to write words on.

simon ghost riley masterlist

Normally, Ghost seeks her. 

A need that throbs until he does so. Usually, he finds her near a patient or bent over paperwork, sometimes even decompressing in a small space—most often her office.

It’s been that way since the very beginning, a calling he struggles to ignore.

There have been times when he’s been able to shove it down, but as of late—fuck, since she came back into his life—it’s something that grows in intensity until he sees her. A pull he cannot ignore, if he's able to answer it.

Here, in the makeshift base, one that’s housed in some crumbling family home, it's harder.

She has no spaces to hide. No small cupboards to escape to, no patients to fret over and even less paperwork to busy herself. And so, he has no reason, no real excuse to find her, to hide with her and let her lift his mask until he only breathes her.

Ghost has considered visiting her room. Sliding into the cot, lifting her until she's over the top of him, sliding his fingers past her cheeks into her hairline. But, the walls are thin. Too risky for either of them. She's too loud for such secrecy, meaning they’re only allowed minimal hand brushes and heart-stopping gazes. 

It could be worse, she could be miles away. Too far away to check in on, too perilous to try and radio or contact. 

For those reasons, Ghost should be glad she’s here. 

He isn’t. 

It’s one thing that she mops up their missions, eyes bouncing, assessing the damage they’ve come back with as she triages them quicker than anyone can explain the ailments. But, this is different. Her being here, properly, fully. It means she’s at risk, in the eye of the storm—one he can't protect her from. 

She doesn’t have a strong track record of walking away unharmed. Each time in the past, one of them has walked away with a scar that tells a story. Sometimes, they have an array of memories to haunt their nightmares. 

He’s thankful Price makes her do recon at this base. 

You’re too valuable. Can’t have the only soul who can stitch us back together riddled with holes, can we, hmm?

Ghost had clenched his fist at that thought, though. The image alone prodded and twisted its pointy edge inside of him.

But, it falls down the list of things to concern himself with, especially when he learns that she enjoys night watches, requesting them—practically demanding them each morning when they re-brief. 

It’s something he hadn’t known before but finds himself intrigued by. 

He wonders if it’s the solitude. The fact that it’s quiet and calm. The night tends to blanket worries, providing the chance to think—something he suspects she has little time for when people are always rudely bleeding out. 

Each night, he watches her slip upstairs—the sounds of her footsteps often easing his bones until she stops, likely sitting, taking the weight off. He fights following her, forcing himself to retire for the night out of fear he would. 

On the first night, he doesn’t sleep at all. Just listens.

The second he finds he’s able to steal an hour, able to nod off to the sound of her pacing.

By the third, he’s able to sleep more—waking to silence, dread filling him, chest tightening, only relieved when he hears her footsteps sound. 

By the fourth, he’s tired of battling with himself. Even if he knows there’s little need for two of them on the roof, he goes all the same.

It takes him a moment—a moment too fucking long—before his eyes land on her sitting, back against the wall of the roof, her head dipped, hand drawing in some book with one of her sharpies.

So, he sneaks a moment. 

One which he won’t have to shift his face, ensure his eyes haven’t softened and his body isn’t fully turned towards her. He allows himself this moment, moonlight on her skin, jaw tight in concentration, hair down as the breeze teases its ends. 

He knows he gets to see her like this often, but it has been sparse as of late. The mere thought of which almost disarms him—trying to recall the last time he was able to see her without a cause etched into her features, without an axe to grind. 

“Y’know, being on watch means watchin’, Helen?”

She doesn’t look up, not that he expects her to. But she does smile. One of those Achilles heel kind of smiles—fuckin’ Helen. 

“Oh. And there was me thinking it was to sit here and look pretty?” 

He snorts, leaning against the wall as he slides down to sit beside her. “Y’do that well. Look pretty.” 

“Charmer.” 

“Sh. They’ll hear you.” 

She chuckles, light and airy—he wishes he could bottle it. Slide the vial into a vest pocket, and listen to it when the edges darken, unable to find the light. 

“Do I dare fuckin’ ask what y’doing?”

“I’m drawing the roofs,” she says, pausing her drawing to show him the other pages before it. “Done it every night I’ve been up here…” 

He sees that.

Observing it as she shows him a similar drawing, each page going and going, the lines sometimes thicker, sometimes thinner. Her hand stops eventually, offering a half-smile he knows is painted on purposefully: don’t worry, I’m fine.

But, he will worry.

And she isn’t fine. 

Ghost knows she’s capable. Hasn’t had one single doubt about her being here. He knows when given the chance, she doesn’t miss—when shit hits the fan, her brain thinks quickly, feet acting. 

But, in her beautiful, self-hating mind, she writes a different story. It irritates him, and makes his piss boil that she can’t see it—can’t see how fucking good she is. 

But, then, they both have their struggles—their own demons they have to face in the mirror and live alongside. He wishes he could rid hers, though. Wish he could banish them, drive them away with each brush of his fingers and each whisper of her name—her real name. The one which feels momentous when he’s able to speak it. 

“I do it because it’s easier.” 

But he knows it means, ‘so I can show myself I didn’t fuck up’. 

He’s slept beside her, he’s held her close when she’s lost in some dreamscape that tries to burn her for a mistake she thinks she could’ve prevented. He’s watched her eyes dull when she’s lost, he’s watched her fist clench when things go wrong. He’s heard her fucking mind go into overdrive the moment their breaths are caught before he’s even wiped a wet cloth between her thighs. 

His hand twitches unknowingly, knocking into her knee. And it forces her eyes to meet his, holding them for a moment—spilling all of her secrets into the space between them. 

Some he can understand with ease. Some require more of an explanation he knows she doesn’t have the words quite for. 

The air brushes past them, proving the moment isn’t frozen—that time hasn’t stopped and stilled. It smells of spices and salt, it kisses the pages of the book as the pages rattle in the soft breeze; it blows through the house they’ve commandeered. It’s all he can hear, that and the beat of his heart—one which thumps in his neck and ear. 

It’s why he runs a gloved hand up the back of his mask, scratching at his scalp, staring at her as he wonders what the fuck to do with her. But, all he can think is his hair is long, he feels it as he tugs it between his fingers. 

“Hair too long?” 

“How’d you know?” 

She shrugs, light and innocent—as if she can ever be the latter. “Call it a hunch.” 

“Shoulda got you to cut it when I got back last time.” 

And fuck, the stern look she shoots him almost makes him snatch the book from her and kiss it from her face. Mask still on, and all. 

“No.”

“No?” 

She laughs, shaking her head. “Ask Soap.”

“m’not asking Johnny. The man has a fuckin’ hawk by choice, Helen.” 

It paints the air, the rest of her laugh. It having grown, becoming something bigger—shifting the dread in his chest and making her eyes twinkle like the stars above them. 

“I’m not cutting your hair.”

“You cut Johnny’s!”

Brows arching, lip curled. “Because he doesn’t bitch and moan that I do it wrong, Simon.” 

“Y’almost scalped me!” 

Rolling her eyes, she leans her head against the brick, lips rubbing together as she tuts. “You moved! Fuck, I hate you sometimes.”   

But she doesn’t. 

He knows she doesn’t. She’s told him as much, each one of them stored in his mind, hidden away, kept just for him when he feels himself shrinking away.

“No, you don’t.” 

“No,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “I don’t.” 

Silence greets the air, and it’s welcomed. It sits comfortably, blanketing them both, even as he wrestles with it—debates it. Permits the thought and the words to scald the tip of his tongue. 

It’s not that he doesn’t think it, feel it. He does. It fills him, head to fucking toe. But, the words themselves leaving his tongue? It’s… They're hard. Laborious. Knackering.

He puffs out a breath, all dramatic and over the top. Just like her.

Smirking to himself as he slides his glove from his hand with his teeth. Her eyes meet his, and he doesn’t drop his gaze. His brain goes silent, just like the night around them. 

From here, he’s reacting. He’s listening, even if words aren’t being spoken—wishing he could remove his mask instead. But he can’t, not with the possible risk of watchful eyes, and the danger of needing to move into action at any moment. 

Ghost hears her swallow as he slides up her sleeve, exposing her skin to the moonlight and the stars. And then he takes the pen from her hand as she holds the cap, dropping the book between her bent knees. 

He holds it, her special pen, the one she never lets anyone ever use—holds it, rolls it between his gloved fingers. 

But, it’s the feeling of warmth in his bare hand that makes him almost smile. The way her hand is dwarfed by his, that it fits so perfectly—all long fingers and softness aside from the plasters and dry calluses. Hands as soft as hers are hard to find in this line of work, and he holds her hand like it’s the prize it is—stretching out her forearm. 

Neither of them speak, both their eyes dropping to her forearm as he slowly glides the nib of it over her skin. 

It leaves its mark with ease. One letter, then four, then three. Her head remains down, even when he places the pen back in the cap, still in her hand. 

“So, y’know I don’t either.”  

Her lips twitch, and he watches them. 

“Know y’can be forgetful, Helen.” 

She lifts her eyes, staring at him as she scrunches her nose. “It’s nice that you can write it, but not say it.”

“Leave it.”

She does. 

Her eyes observe him as her thumb circles the space under his words—his writing. His own personal branding, the only one he can currently get away with. 

“We should make that our new sign,” she whispers, and his eyes narrow in confusion. 

She touches her forearm, before holding one finger up, then four, then three—smirking at him, in that wicked way she always does. 

“Can add it to our secret code—our two-tap ‘miss you’ and our flat palm ‘be safe’.”

“Your secret code.” 

“He says as if he doesn’t freaking love putting me off in the middle of a briefing” she teases. 

And fuck, if she isn’t right. 

He loves catching her eyes, brushing past her, letting her know—in a room full of their colleagues—that he’s thinking of her. That she’s his. “I’m not doin’ it against my chest, or anythin’.”

“The very fact you suggested that Simon, tells me that is very much what you’re going to do.” 

“Helen.” 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘enough’,” she smiles, almost resting her head on his shoulder. “Your warning tone has little effect on me, Ghosty-one.”

“Don’t I know it.”

She smirks, shaking her head, twisting her pen, “My turn—“

“No need,” he says, quickly. Watching her confusion weave into her brows and forehead.

Releasing her hand, he slides up his own sleeve, fingers sliding over his inked arm until his finger stops, pointing, gesturing. 

There, in all of its inky goodness, a stethoscope hanging from one of his skulls—one she has so often traced with her nail when she has been lying on his chest, breath dancing over his skin. 

“I wish I could hug you.”

“I know.”

She sighs, rolling her head as she twirls the pen in her fingers, his own pulling the glove back over his hand. 

“I also really want a shower. And, a Chinese…”

Tugging his sleeve back down, he watches her as she stares off to the side of them. Nothing, not even a sound albeit the wind in between the branches of the tree. 

“Yeah? What y’ordering?”

“Some noodles, rice, maybe a curry? Duck, probably. That place near yours does a nice duck—“

“No. Not again.” 

His hand nudges her, pulling her gaze back to him, watching her fighting a smile. “What do you mean?” 

“You hate mushrooms.” 

“And?”

“Y’fuckin’ made me pick them all out last time.” 

She laughs, and he’s sure it paints another part of his world in colour. Watching in awe as her giggle touches each corner of her face, leaving evidence of it on her cheeks and lips. 

“I think you did that all on your own, Simon. I am a big girl, I can scoop out my own shrooms.”

He grunts. “No. Can’t have tha’. Wouldn’t be gentleman-like.” 

“Well, my hero.”

“Oi. That’ll do.” 

“Y’know what else?”

He sighs. 

Not because he hates listening to her, or all the things she wants. But, rather because he hates that he can’t give her a single fucking one. Especially when she asks for nothing.

Not a single thing.

Just stay alive. Come back.

Two things he can’t even fully promise her. 

And that turns in his mind sometimes, shifts between the thoughts of plans and briefings. Makes his insides knot, because how can her eyes catch his across the room, make his lips jerk behind the mask in a sea of so many—and yet she never truly asks for anything from him.

Just need you, Simon. All of you. Nothing else.  

No one else could get that from him.

Not all his past, present and future. But, she makes him do a lot of things with ease, without thought. He suspects it’s why he knows she’s the one. 

“Go on.”

Her head leans against the stone wall beside him, eyes trained ahead, likely focusing on some roof as she releases the words, “I also really wish we could fuck, y’know. I’d even take a quickie, one where you don’t even fully undress…” 

It slides into the air and drips into his ear. And, if he wasn’t already thinking the same, her head turns on the stone, eyes landing on him with an intensity that makes him hard. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t smirk. But her arm comes across her chest, clutching her elbow as she bites her index finger—knowing exactly what she’s fucking doing.

“... Just wish you could fill me up right here, right now—chafe my bloody thighs with your ridiculously wide hips and horrid scratchy belt. Fuck, I’ll even take you scratching the shit out of my cheek with that sharp bit of your mask again. Just so, even when I’m lying in my empty, cold cot, I can feel you.”

He says nothing.

Does nothing.

Using every fibre of restraint not to shove her to the ground and rip her fucking clothes off. From the way her eyes are aflame, he assumes she’s praying for him too. 

“Y’really miss me that much, Helen?”

“Simon, I miss just being next to you more than I miss your ridiculous bed in Manchester.”

He snorts. “You do love my bed.”

“It’s the only reason I’m with you, personally.”

He nudges her and she rolls her head closer, barely a space between the two of them. He can almost see the moon reflecting in her eyes, and can even smell the vanilla body wash mixing with the air. 

All he can think is, if he’s quick enough, he might be able to kiss her.

May be able to run his tongue across her bottom lip, pull her close, right over his lap, and her knees apart, spread all for him—

“Shame Price’ll be up in a second,” she says, dismay warped around each syllable. “I want you quick, but not that quick.”

“Have to settle for a joke, then.”

She uncaps her pen, and the pop sound is so loud compared to everything else. “Go on then, Simon. Gimme your best line—make me laugh so hard it pulls a muscle and I have that to keep me company tonight.”

an: couldn't bow out 2022 without some roof top sweetness with the main man. right? happy new year, team ghost. i can't put into words what you all mean to me, or how happy you've made me feel. j'adore.

[mathanlin]

// being knocked out, panic attacks

Ghosthunting AU where fear makes ghosts stronger — and Tommy’s far too prone to panic.

Usually, it’s fine. He has SBI, all brave & incredibly competent. It’s hard to be afraid with their comforting presences. 

And then they leave him behind in a ghost-infested house.

It’s an accident. Or rather, Tommy’s praying it is. 

It’s chaos — smashing glass, hallucinations clouding Tommy’s vision despite his frantic salt circle. SBI had barely escaped the spectral frenzy.

And Tommy, the latest hire (not quite part of their *family*) was left behind.

“Phil,” he screams, back slamming against the wall, panic clawing up his throat.

Only the ghosts scream back. The salt circle starts to crumble, and Tommy sobs in fear, desperately trying to reinforce it.

But it won’t last for long.

And his terror’s just making it worse.

“Wil? Techno?” 

Nothing but the sound of shattering glass, shards slicing into Tommy’s skin. He screams again, almost whiting out from fear.

And a quiet part of him mutters, *Coward. This is why they left you behind.*

But they *didn’t.*

Because Techno returns to save him.

It’s like seeing a fucking angel.

But Techno’s still fighting for dear life, throwing salt-and-iron bombs & frantically fending off specters with a silver sword. 

And… screaming at Tommy.

“*Calm down.*”

Tommy sobs, arms over his head. 

Deep breaths? That’s what Phil had recommended. But Tommy can’t breathe. So… repeating mantras, like Wil? But he can’t even think, let alone speak—

Techno’s hands land on his shoulders.

“Tommy, you need to calm down *now.*”

*I’m trying,* Tommy tries to say. “I— I can’t—”

“*Now,*” Techno shouts, letting him go to slice his sword through a terrifying apparition. “Tommy, you’re making them stronger, *control yourself.*”

But he can’t. 

And they both know it.

Techno whips out his pistol, sending a silver bullet through the nearest ghost. 

It barely even stuns them, wild with power from Tommy’s terror. His fault. And now Techno will die because of it.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy sobs, as Techno turns back to him. “I’m trying, I—”

He cuts off.

There’s… realization in Techno’s expression.

Like he knows what he has to do. Like he can *save* them, like they’re going to live, they’re going to be okay—

The pistol slams across Tommy’s forehead, knocking him out cold.

(It’s a desperate measure.

And it works.

Techno tumbles out of the infested house with an unconscious Tommy in his arms, the ghosts withering without their source of fear.

But the action has consequences.

Only SBI’s comfort had held Tommy together. The promise they’d keep him safe.

And now he’s *constantly* terrified around them. Apologizing, wincing when they move towards him, only panicking further when they try to calm him, begging not to be hurt.

He’s useless.)

.

.

.

“You can’t be anywhere near us.”

It's Wilbur, scowling as he clambers into the van. Tommy flinches, research papers & newly filled salt bombs surrounding him. Attempts to be useful.

Apparently, not useful enough.

"You have to leave."

"What?"

Wilbur grabs a rifle from the wall, head jerking towards the haunted area. "They're getting powerful out there. They can feel your fear all the way from here."

That's all Wilbur has to say. *They're hard to fight. We could get hurt.*

And when he leaves, Tommy follows.

He knows himself.

He knows he can't stop being terrified. Not when SBI's in danger. When they look at him with barely veiled irritation. When he's still aching & dizzy from Techno's hit.

And he knows he's SBI's last priority. Their liability.

So he runs away.

(But none of them anticipated the consequences.

When SBI return to the van & find it empty, it's not anger they feel. Or relief, at losing their burden.

It's terror. For Tommy, homeless, jobless, and injured, running away half-dead from a concussion.

And it ruins them.

They can't hunt ghosts like this, wracked with worry.

But they can track down Tommy, dedicating every resource to bringing him back. Back *home.*

And praying that when they find the kid, he's not one of the ghosts they're used to hunting.)

[cloudlessly-light]

i need a hotchniss proposal fic if you will ever write one with or without smut! you write so well im sure it will be great whatever it is <3

A/N: Thank you Anon, that is so sweet of you! I hope you enjoy this little fluff!

Title: Darling, this is more than everything Summary: In the end, it’s nothing short of a miracle that Emily doesn’t figure out earlier that he’s carried the ring around for months.   Word count: 3,6k Rating: General Warnings: None, it's all fluff

Aaron knew he wanted to marry Emily after only a few weeks of dating. It was strange, being so sure about another person. He had never been very trusting, and after Haley he never imagined falling in love again, let alone loving someone like he loved Emily.

It hit him out of nowhere one morning. She had gotten up earlier than him and he found her in the kitchen with Jack, talking to him with a smile so comforting that Aaron felt his heart ache with adoration for her. And that’s when he knew.

Of course, he didn’t say anything about it, they were just starting out, both of them still had walls and issues of their own to deal with, even as they built a life together.

“I’ve never loved anybody like I love you.”

The words make him stop, because they come out of nowhere and he looks at Emily who’s sitting on the couch with a book in her lap. She was usually never the one to be so straight forward with her feelings, still had trouble expressing them sometimes even after almost a year of dating.

She’s blushing, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, like she hadn’t expected the words herself. But he’s smiling, smiling so big she’s sure it must hurt his cheeks.

“I’ve never loved anybody like I love you either, sweetheart.” He tells her as he takes the book from her lap and places it on the coffee table. When he kisses her it’s with all the promises he still hasn’t told her out loud.

As they lay in bed later that night he finds himself wondering what kind of ring she’d want.

He doesn’t mention his plans to anyone, and yet he’s unsurprised that JJ figures it out first. She was more perceptive than people thought and she knew him well, probably better than most.

“Are you proposing to Emily?” She asks when they’re alone and packing up after a case and he catches the smile on her face.

“Why would you ask that?” He continues to stack pipers into piles to be put into boxes and JJ chuckles.

“Because when you look at her I swear you look like your hearts stops beating and because it’s been more than a year, and you already live together.” She stops when he looks at her with a heavy brow and a knowing look and she faulters for a second. “And maybe because I saw when you stole one of her rings from her dresser last week when we had dinner.”

There it was, he thought. He looks at her for another couple of seconds and then relaxes.

“Don’t tell anyone.” He can’t help the way he laughs at the way JJ’s whole face lights up in excitement.

“I won’t.” She looks back to where she sees Derek and Emily walk towards them and she hurriedly asks. “When?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He says quietly and finishes up putting the last few stacks of papers into boxes when Emily walks into the small conference room they had been working in, Derek right behind her.

“You’re awfully slow today.” She teases and comes to stand next to him, her hand finding his. They were done with the case, could finally let go of Hotch and Prentiss for a moment to simply be themselves.

“If you had helped it would have gone faster.” He quips and she fakes annoyance, her eyebrows furrowing even as she’s biting the inside of her cheek to keep her smirk at bay.

“I’ll have you know we were doing very important things.”

“Mhm sure, like what?” JJ asks and when Emily looks at her best friend she’s sure she can see happiness on her face that she hasn’t seen in a while.

“Coffee breaks are important for the soul.” Derek answers for her and she throws a crumbled up piece of paper at him.

“Good job ‘not letting the boss know we’re slacking off’, Morgan.” When she’s met with Derek’s laugh and Aaron’s heavy browed frown she shrugs and bats her eyelashes.

“It’s a good thing I love you.” He mutters she grins winningly.

He finds the ring he wants a couple of months later. It’s simple, a white gold band with a diamond that he knows Emily won’t find to be too much but is still a decent carat. He’s walking out of the jewelry store, the box still in his hand when he collides with somebody out of nowhere.

“Oh, excuse me- Hotch?” Derek looks at him in surprise. “Sorry I didn’t see you. What are you doing here?”

“I had some errands-” He starts but he can already see the other man look at the store he just walked out of, eyes soon finding the box in his hand, and he stops trying to explain as Derek grins.

“So it’s finally time huh?” He beams, his warm hand landing on his shoulder as he squeezes it. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at him and puts the box in his inside pocket.

“Come on, let me buy you a drink to celebrate.”

Even if Aaron had wanted to object, he knew there wasn’t a point.

He wants to propose the moment he has the ring, but he also wants to make it special. So he waits, and in that time Spencer figures it out. Aaron knew he’d never really understand the youngest man of their team’s brain, how he notices patterns and changes so easily.

But one night he knocks on his office door, a look of uncertainty on his face and Aaron immediately stops writing.

“Are you alright Reid?” He asks as Spencer closes the door carefully behind him.

“Yes. I just, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He motions for him to sit down and he straightens in his chair but he stays quiet and waits for whatever Spencer needs to say.

“JJ is my best friend.” He starts and it only makes Aaron confused. “But before Doyle, before Paris, Emily was the one I trusted more than anyone. She never judged me.”

“If this is about us not telling you about faking her death-” He starts but is quickly cut off by the younger man.

“No. No it’s not that.” Spencer straightens slightly in his chair, his eyes meeting Aaron’s darker ones. “I trust her with everything, and I know she trusts you with everything, including her heart.”

“Reid-” He starts again but he’s interrupted again.

“When you propose, you have to be sure. About her, about your relationship.” He says and he sees the way Aaron looks at him in surprise, eyebrows knitted together.

“Have I done something that makes you think I’m not?” He finally asks and Spencer shakes his head.

“No, and I know you make each other happy, probably happier than I’ve ever seen either of you. But just… be sure.” He sits for another few seconds before nodding and then stands.

“I am.” Aaron stands too and walks around the desk. To Spencer’s surprise, Aaron pulls him into a hug. “Thank you for looking out for her.” He says before letting go and he sees the other man relax, a small smile on his face.

Spencer starts to walk toward the door but he’s stopped by the sound of Aaron voice.

“How did you know?” He asks a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face.

“I just did.”

The night he had planned to propose the first time, they’re called away on a case last minute and the disappointment he feels is close to overbearing. Emily notices the moment his face drops after the phone call.

“Are you alright, honey?” She takes his hand over the table they’re sitting at, not even halfway through their main course yet.

“Yeah, but we gotta go, we have a case and it can’t wait until the morning.” He squeezes her hand and musters a smile that he hopes seems genuine.

“You know that’s not why I’m asking.” She stands up and lets him help her with her jacket.

“I just wanted a night with you.” He kisses her softly and then grabs his own coat. “We have to go.”

Dave knows something is wrong almost as quickly as Emily did. Not that he should be surprised, the older man had always been exceptional at reading him. He doesn’t say anything until they’re flying back three days later. It had been three excruciating days, barely any sleep and they were still too late to save a family from the torment of losing a child. So the moment they take off they’re all resting, getting some much-needed sleep. Everyone except Dave and Aaron.

“Want to tell me what’s been bothering you?” Dave sets two glasses of scotch down at the table and then sits across from him at the two-person table in the corner.

“We lost a child and the unsub committed suicide.” He mutters dryly and Dave tilts his head slightly to the side.

“Yeah, it’s a huge loss. But that isn’t what’s been on your mind.” He takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass, his ice clinking slightly as he does. When Aaron just shakes his head, the older man sighs, but he won’t give up. Then he catches how dark eyes move through the cabin, no doubt seeking out Emily who’s sleeping next to JJ at the four-person table. “So it’s about Emily?”

“Dave, not now.” He tries arguing but he knows the other man well and when all he’s met with is a look of exasperation he sighs heavily. When Dave had a feeling something was wrong, he never could let it go, a trait of his that was annoying as well as comforting. With that thought in mind, Aaron looked around to see if everyone was still asleep and realized that everyone on the plane already knew, except Dave and Emily. “I was going to propose, but we got called in.”

“Oh.” Is all he says and the close to nonchalant attitude makes Aaron slightly irritated. “Then you’ll just try again.”

“How long have you known?” He asks and when Dave leans forward over the table, a kind smile on his face, Aaron takes a sip of his drink.

“That you’ve bought the ring already?  Just found that out. That you’ll marry her someday? Since long before you got together.” He raises his glass in a cheers and then drinks the rest of his scotch.

Aaron realizes that since the whole team already knows, that he should tell Penelope as well, it was only fair. The only problem was, the bubbly blonde couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. So he doesn’t tell her for another few weeks, not until he’s planned the proposal in every detail.

“I’m going to propose to Emily tomorrow night.” He tells her in her office and he’s never been happier that the room was close to soundproof when Penelope screams in excitement.

“Oh my gosh! This is so freaking exciting! Where? How? Tell me everything! Do you have the ring? Oh oh can I see it?” She rambles and Aaron can’t help but to laugh because her enthusiasm was always contagious, but especially today.

“I’m taking her out to dinner at her favorite restaurant, and then after dinner we’ll walk over to the Watergate hotel and have a drink on their rooftop bar, and there with a view of the Potomac I’ll ask her.” He pulls out the ring and while Penelope had been clapping and gasping, she goes silent when she sees the ring.

“This is beautiful. She will love it.” She smiles, tears in her eyes and Aaron finds himself wondering how she’s capable of such genuine joy for the people around her.

“Thank you.” He has barely put the ring back in his pocket before she pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m so happy for you.”

Emily knows something is up the moment she wakes up. It was a Saturday and they had the weekend off, and yet, Aaron was already out of bed. She hears him in the kitchen, and as she walks towards the clattering of plates she smells coffee and French toast.

“What’s this?” She asks with a smile as she watches the spread of fresh fruit and jams on the table.

“We made you breakfast.” Jack smiles, carrying glasses to the table.

“I see that, what’s the occasion?” She ruffles his hair as he walks by and then goes to stand next to Aaron who’s putting the toast up on plates.

“No occasion, we just thought we’d show you some appreciation today.” He kisses her temple and then she pulls him into a kiss that makes Jack look away in embarrassment.  

“You’re planning something.” She smiles against his lips but he shakes his head no. “Liar.”

The morning is spent together as a family and as the day goes on, Aaron finds himself getting more excited, as well as nervous. After breakfast, Jack headed over to his friend’s house, where he would be spending the night, and Aaron took the opportunity to show Emily just how much he loved her.

They spent the day together, just enjoying each other and relaxing until Emily needed to start getting ready to go out. While she was showering, he placed the bouquet of flowers he had bought her on the bed and then cleaned up around the apartment until he too, needed to get ready.

She had tried to get it out of him all day, had even bribed Jack with comic books but the 9-year-old had refused with a toothy grin. When she gets out of the shower she sees the flowers, huge red roses with a small card attached that she’s careful to pick up.

I love you, now and forever.

As she reads the words she feels her stomach knotting in excitement. They hadn’t talked much about marriage, not in any detail at least, because it was unspoken between them that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. She didn’t need the ring or a wedding, but as she reread the note, she realized that she wanted it. Suddenly this day made sense. She smells the roses, a smile on her face that she can’t seem to control.

The smile doesn’t leave her face even as she gets dressed, choosing a dark blue dress she knows Aaron loves and then does her make up. When she comes out of their bedroom he’s already waiting for her.

“These are beautiful.” She tells him and holds the flowers up before moving to the kitchen to put them in water.

“Not as beautiful as you. But nothing is.” He hugs her from behind, his lips lingering against her neck and she shivers from his proximity.

“You’re so cheesy.” She turns her head enough to kiss him and he hums into it.

“Only sometimes.” He lets go of her and takes her hand. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

The food is amazing, it always was and Emily enjoyed every second of it. They talked easily, they always had and in between bites of steak and sips of wine they enjoyed spending time together. It had been a while since they had a whole day to just be together, to enjoy each other.

“It was so good.” She sighs happily as they walk hand in hand after dinner. The streets were busy, a Saturday night never dull in DC and Aaron keeps her close as they make their way toward the hotel.

“It really was.” He smiled and let go of her hand, only to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m perfect.” She smiled and let him lead the way. Once they were in the elevator she pulled him into a kiss. “This whole day has been incredible.”

“Good.” He stamped another kiss to her lips just as the elevator doors opened and they were led to a table. They ordered their drinks and as Emily looked out at the view, he couldn’t help but to marvel at just of beautiful she was, how happy she made him.

And then it hit him.

Emily wouldn’t want something grand, she hated being the center of attention and saying yes with a bunch of people around them didn’t feel right. He had been so focused on getting the day perfect, that he forgot to think about what suited them. It’s a split-second decision, but as the glasses of champagne are placed in front of them, he knows he doesn’t want to propose like this. It didn’t feel right.

But it wouldn’t stop him from enjoying this night with her.

“Cheers, sweetheart.” He picks up his flute and waits until she has too. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She feels her cheek flush from excitement, she knew that any moment he would pull out a ring. But then it didn’t happen and as Aaron paid the bill a couple of hours later she was feeling embarrassed that she had even thought that he would propose.

She didn’t want to show her disappointment, didn’t want him to think that she hadn’t enjoyed their day or that she didn’t appreciate the effort he had put into it, because she did. Still, she was painfully reminded that her ring finger was empty when he took her hand as they waited for a cab.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Aaron asked, she had gotten quieter, her smile seeming a little less bright as they were heading home.

“I’m alright, just a little tired I guess.” She leaned her head on his shoulder for a couple of seconds before a car rolled up and they got in.

“Are you sure?” He asked as they started to drive off and she nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sure honey.”

But her mood doesn’t go back to how happy she had been, in fact she seemed sad. It doesn’t take Aaron long to figure out why, he realized that she had probably figured out his plan sometime during the day and he refused to have their day end on anything else but a high.

“How about some tea?” He asked as they walk through the door and she nods.

“Yeah that sounds good, just let me get changed.” She quickly goes to change and remove her makeup and while she does, Aaron gets changed too and puts the kettle on. He pours the water once it’s done and grabs the tea bags. He sets the mugs down on the coffee table, then grabs a rose from the bouquet and places that and the ring box next to her mug. She comes out just as he sits down, face free of makeup, her hair in a messy ponytail and of his shirts on her body.

“Thank you.” She mumbles and takes the mug as she sits close to him, her hand resting on his thigh.

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” He smiles at how she doesn’t see it at first, is actually surprised at just how long it takes her to notice the box on the table in front of her. But when she does, her whole body tenses.

“Is that…?” She looks from the box to him and back and slowly reaches for it. When she opens the box it still takes her a couple of seconds before she gasps. “Aaron are you kidding me?!” She starts to laugh, unable to control it in the midst of everything she’s feeling. “I waited all night and you chose now to ask me?!”

“Yes,” He takes the box from her and takes the ring out as he faces her. “I had today planned out, but I realized that having this moment with you, alone, would be even more special than anything else.” When he looks into her eyes they’re shining with tears and he can feel his own emotions starting to get the best of him.

“Emily, will you marry me?” His voice shakes slightly, thick with emotions and she’s nodding before he’s even finished his sentence.

“Yes, of course I will.” She swallows down a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and when he places the ring on her finger she barely waits until it’s on before she lunges herself at him, kissing him deeply.

*

“How do you think it’s going? Should we call them?” Penelope asks, close to vibrating in place as she sits next to Spencer on JJ’s couch.

“No, we are not calling them.” Dave stares the blonde down who pouts.

“What if she said no?” Derek teases and JJ immediately hits him on the shoulder hard enough for him to wince. “I was kidding, easy!

“They might not even tell us until Monday.” Spencer shrugs and then avoids the pillow Penelope throws at him.

“I made him promise to text-”

The sudden ding of five phones going off at the same time interrupts her and all of them quickly looks at their phones. The cheers around the room are almost loud enough to wake up Henry when they see the text message with the attached photo of Emily holding her hand up, showing off the ring.

Aaron: She said yes!