#so staring at these images of him I deduced a couple things

[51nn0n]

I put them civilian clothes

[archived-kin]

diluc ragnvindr and the secret spouse

note from kin: i was running around dawn winery looking for any chests i might have missed when this idea suddenly popped into my head. honestly i was tempted to do this similarly to the obey me solomon piece i did a while back and give diluc a husband but then i figured i should probably keep it gender neutral for both the girls and the gays

this is super short but i’ve had writer’s block for AGES so at least i got something out! i hope this isn’t so awful it burns your eyes out :,) i tried my best okay

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, diluc, aether, paimon

pairing(s): diluc/reader

warning(s): none

genre: fluff!!

You wake to the distant buzz of household conversation and a distinct absence of the usual presence beside you. Slightly disoriented, you sit up, rubbing at your eyes as the morning light peeking around the edge of your heavy velvet curtains casts the creases of the sheets around you into sharp definition.

A still-steaming mug sits on the bedside table, indicating that it hasn’t been long since your dear husband got up and made you your usual morning cup of tea. There’s a little red flower sitting on the saucer - a Windwheel Aster, which, if the flower language the two of you have developed over time still stands true, means that he’s still at home. He’d have left a Snapdragon if he was going out, a Calla Lily if he’d be gone for the day, or a Cecilia if he’d be away for an extended period of time. Of course, he tells you these things in person when he gets the chance, but, well - duty calls, and duty certainly doesn’t wait for a sensible wake-up time.

You throw your arms up and stretch, limbs trembling slightly as all the knots and cramps that have built up throughout the night finally straighten out. Windwheel Asters usually herald a good day in your household - though with Diluc, they can become Snapdragons and then Calla Lilies in the blink of an eye - and you’re looking forward to spending some time with your husband. It’s been a busy week for the both of you, what with an unexpected increase in the number of Abyss Order attacks cropping up around Mondstadt as well as several sudden unexplained deaths of hunters from Springfield, and you’d really like to have twenty four hours to just relax.

Diluc’s usual coat is still draped over the chair beside the desk, so, after a moment’s thought, you pull it on over your nightclothes. You have the weekend off, anyway - all your pending cases have been essentially solved and are ready to go - so you don’t see any need for donning your usual detective garb, though you do feel tempted to put on your trademark scarf to ward off the morning chill.

You take a few minutes to make the bed and open the curtains before you sit down in the armchair by the window to enjoy your tea. You can see several of the usual workers milling about between the grapevines, as well as what looks like a carrier balloon being docked just by the road. That’s new - deliveries to Dawn Winery usually come by carriage, but then again, the fact that the balloon also appears to be smoking extensively and is being accompanied by a very dishevelled-looking man who looks close to tears indicates that this probably isn’t a delivery,

On further inspection, you realise that your husband is standing nearby the smoking balloon, conversing with a young man with long golden hair tied back in a braid that you’re not particularly familiar with. You’re sure you recognise him from somewhere, though - in the same way that you might recognise the general composition of a painting you’ve seen in passing.

You don’t have time to continue contemplating the boy’s identity, though, because next thing you know, Diluc is leading him inside. You drain the remainder of your tea to the dregs with one gulp and pull yourself to your feet, resolving to go down to greet the two.

While you don’t bother with changing into something more formal, you do take a moment to wash your face and freshen up your breath with some of the mint-water Diluc keeps in the bathroom. You’re not fussed about keeping up a ‘respectable’ image, but you do at least want to be presentable.

Diluc is sitting with his back to you when you slip into the front room, still dressed in just your nightclothes and his overcoat, now with your feet tucked into a comfortable pair of slippers as well. The boy he’d invited in is the first to notice you, looking up from the map in his hands and face steeling slightly as he registers your presence.

An odd little fairy of some kind is bobbing about behind him, chewing on what looks like a large slice of cake. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers as she spots you, exclaiming so loudly that she sprays crumbs all over her unsuspecting golden-haired companion.

“Who’s this?!” she shrieks, alarmed in an almost comically exaggerated way. Her shock sends her even higher into the air, and she threatens to hit the ceiling head-on. “Y-you don’t look like a maid!”

You raise an eyebrow, mildly amused. “That would be because I’m not a maid.”

Diluc finally turns around, eyes lighting up slightly when he sees your choice of attire. A small smile curls at the corners of his lips as he moves to the side, leaving enough room on his seat for you to settle down beside him.

His young friend’s eyes dart between the two of you rapidly as Diluc continues droning on about something to do with transport balloons and the influx of monster activity in the area without a word as to your sudden appearance. He’s certainly quick-witted, you’ll give him that - he seems to deduce your relationship almost immediately.

Still, he asks about it in a polite and roundabout way - bless the boy. You can imagine that he’s a little afraid of making assumptions, especially about a man like Diluc.

“Is that your coat, Master Diluc?”

Diluc pauses in the middle of his explanation, eyebrows lifting slightly. You don’t know why he seems so surprised by the boy’s question - after all, the impression of the prideful Darknight Hero he has probably doesn’t incline him to think of him as a relationship-y sort of man.

“...yes.” He says finally. You don’t miss the way he steals a glance at you through the messy fringe of his red hair.

“Why so surprised?” You chime in, smiling at the boy as he straightens up slightly at the sound of your voice. “Surely you’ve deduced our relation already?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Are you two… partners?”

You laugh. “Well, you could certainly put it like that.”

“You’re so clueless, Aether!” complains the boy’s fairy companion. “They’re obviously dating or something!”

Aether shoots her an unimpressed look. “That’s what I meant, Paimon.”

“Your name’s Aether, then?” You note. He nods. “Good name, Aether. You seem like a smart boy.”

“Hey!” The fairy glares at you, but it doesn’t really have much effect when she’s got the face of a baby lamb and crumbs still decorating her lower face to boot. “Don’t forget about Paimon!”

“Paimon’s a lovely name too,” You comply with a smile. “Very trustworthy.”

She looks appeased by the compliment, crossing her arms with a smug grin aimed at her taller companion. “See? Paimon’s trustworthy.”

“I heard them, Paimon,” sighs Aether, wearing the kind of expression that tells you he has to put up with this sort of thing a lot.

“What are you doing up so early?” Diluc asks you, and you start slightly at his sudden question. “Normally you sleep til noon on Sundays.”

You shrug and give his thigh a firm pat, taking great enjoyment in the way his ears flame up slightly at the gesture. “Guess I just missed your lovely face.”

The red of his ears darkens. “...you’re ridiculous.”

“You’re cute,” you counter with a smile, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He chuckles in spite of himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile that he rarely lets anyone but you see.

“You’re both gross,” Paimon decides with a pout, and the two of you suddenly remember the presence of the two other people in the room. Aether is pointedly staring at a painting on the wall, but at Paimon’s words, he hurriedly turns back.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You laugh, waving off Aether’s apologies for his fairy friend’s comment. “The maids often say the same thing.”

“The maids wouldn’t say such things if you didn’t insist on being so affectionate everywhere,” Diluc comments, though the smile still tugging at his lips tells you that he definitely doesn’t consider that a bad thing. “If you don’t want them to talk, perhaps you should take it down a notch or two.”

“Who said I didn’t want them to talk?” You counter, inching closer to him again. You'll refrain from kissing him right in front of Aether and Paimon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re the one always hanging off my shoulders whenever you get the chance.”

Diluc, however, doesn’t seem to have the same qualms as you about abstaining from affection in front of guests. His smile widening almost playfully, he gently lifts a hand to your chin. “Oh? Are you complaining?”

“Who said that?” is your response, and you lean in and kiss him.

It isn’t until the two of you pull away that you realise that Paimon has started making gagging noises as Aether frantically tries to shush her, all the while determinedly refusing to look in your direction. You almost feel bad for the kid - he clearly isn’t the best with affectionate couples.

“Sorry, sorry,” You say airily, moving away from Diluc, though you keep a hand resting on his knee.

“Is this what all married couples are like?” Paimon says, still wrinkling her nose in disgust. “If so, Paimon doesn’t want to get married, ever!”

Aether, still avoiding direct eye contact with both you and your husband, mutters an exasperated, “Bold of you to assume anyone would want to marry you.”

She immediately kicks him in the head, nearly knocking the poor guy right off the sofa. “Paimon heard that!”

“What a rowdy pair,” You comment cheerfully as Aether retaliates by flicking Paimon hard in the head, sending her spiralling halfway across the room with an indignant yelp. “You really do make strange friends, Diluc.”

He makes an odd chuffing sound in response to your words. “They aren’t any stranger than you.”

You shake your head. “You still married this strange detective, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did,” He smiles softly again, setting his right hand over the one you have on his knee. “I wonder if I made the right decision?”

You give his knee a reproachful pinch and he gives short, sharp laugh in response - something that you don’t hear nearly enough from him. “Of course you did!”

You move to jab him in the sides, knowing exactly where all of his sensitive spots are, but he stops you quickly, seizing both your hands in his and firmly refusing to let go. You struggle for about a second before giving up and slumping against him with a dramatic huff.

“You’re too strong,” You complain, though your affectionate nuzzle into the side of his neck directly contradicts your pseudo-annoyed words. “I don’t like it.”

Diluc chuckles, knowing full well that you love the fact that he can lift entire tables without breaking a sweat. “Whatever you say, darling.”

The look that you give him as you raise your head nearly knocks all of the breath out of him. The adoring grin on your face doesn’t relent as you lift a hand and brush his cheek, your touch feather-light and sending shivers down his spine.

He finds himself leaning in again, overwhelmed by your presence. You smile knowingly and reach up to meet him - only to be interrupted with a start.

Paimon complains, half-disgusted and half-resigned, “They’re doing it again!”

[yostresswritinggirl]

If you're plate isn't too full, can I request a couple of fluffy hc's about Albedo with a photographer! s/o? Like, his s/o enjoys taking pictures of the environment and etc, and even take pictures of Albedo whenever he just does stuff, and Albedo enjoys sketching then whenever they just do a whole picture spree- they even exchange pictures too

Yes, my plate is too full and I'm confused why you guys don't see the request closed thingy in my description. But does it look like I care? No, I miss writing for Albedo and you're getting Albedo NOW-

Sepia Times

Albedo with a Photographer!S/O headcanons/scenarios... (event masterlist)

Ever since Fontaine released their newest device called Kamera, you had been so adamant in getting ahold of one that you ended up going on a travel spree to the said nation. Not even waiting for the shipment to Mondstadt, you left a quickly written note of your whereabouts before you left.

Spontaneous as ever, Albedo thought to himself as his grip on the note tightens with worry.

Luckily, three days later, you hailed from the Hydro Archon's land with your newest prized possession in hand. Triumphant and giddy, both of your lives changed drastically from there.

Albedo first and foremost, almost dismantled your Kamera. Actually he may have already done so behind your back, he was just caught the last time. He was really curious of its machinations and wanted to reverse engineer it.

He only ever lived because he was fast enough to reassemble it and show you that it still works. If not, you were already charging at him to throw hands. You did not travel for three days just for the Kamera to be broken. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, he's not allowed to touch it until he gets his own when the supply reaches Mondstadt.

Knowing your excitement, Albedo takes a sudden day off to accompany you in your Kamera spree, his own canvas and easel under his arm to also channel his artistic energy.

In just a day you managed to take 20 pictures, about to run out of film in just a day. Everytime you snap a picture, you gravitate to where Albedo is stationed to show off what you got like a crow and its shiny rocks. He finds it very endearing, stating his honest honey-covered opinion that makes you overjoyed enough to energize you to snap another, better picture.

The Alchemist sees the appeal of the Kamera and how immediate the replication of the image is. But he still glorifies the art of painting. He may not be able to capture constantly moving subjects but he can capture any detail he wants emphasized unlike the limited rasterization of a photo like that.

He watches you from afar as you skip over to different places and objects, face blooming with wonder as you position your device to snap. He dons a smile when you pull out the photo and wait for the image to materialize, and produce a chuckle when you sprint over to him to show the product. It's like your routine you developed in just a day.

So at times when he needs it the most, he will steal borrow your Kamera to snap a quick picture of something fast moving that he needs to observe immediately or wish to sketch/paint in detail in the future. One of the photos he had hidden for himself had a picture of you in your natural photographer environment as you dash around to look for a scene to capture while you wait.

What's it for? Well he made it into a more intricate painting during his spare time, presenting it to you with the little image taped at the top right corner. It was so beautiful that when outsiders were to see it after they were granted to access his office/laboratory, they always ask for the price for it. Something he adamantly refuses with the coldest glare the Alchemist can make. The negotiations usually end there.

Whenever he was far and you couldn't follow, like Dragonspine for example (the Kamera was still in development so cold temperatures might risk both the device and the processing), you always send him a picture for his thoughts. Either by asking Sucrose, Timaeus or the Traveler if they were en route to his camp, of course.

As you send one to him daily, Albedo started to look forward to your little mail every time. They range from very beautiful sights he hasn't seen before, images of the people of Mond who looks to be greeting him, or of you and the things that would remind him of you.

He keeps a haphazardly strewn journal for it, and in his camp was a board of his favorite picks, and all images of you are tacked on it. The Traveler enjoys watching his cold teal eyes light up whenever he brings the daily image, watching the picture board grow as Albedo tacks the latest one in with obvious pride and joy.

When he comes back to Mond, he brings with him his most beautiful piece from Dragonspine. You'd know it's special because everything is painted in detail, even the most unimportant parts of it. It's his gift for your little photo exchange and you have it put up on wall somewhere in your house.

When he gets his own Kamera, it was his turn to drag you to his photography spree. A little one-sided competition happens between you two where you try to one up the quality of his pictures, sometimes successful and sometimes you don't really... understand what he's doing, as he captures the strangest images.

Albedo uses his solar isotoma when you want to use it for better angles. Very supportive, as you'd hear a snap from beneath as you position your own Kamera.

The whole of Mond muses at both of your antics; as you two would most likely do the finger frame thingy impulsively when seeing something worth the attention, the people around you would chuckle at how cute you two looked, focused on your own little world.

He always gifts you extra films or anything related to photography when he can. Since he barely has time to go out sometimes, he has many backup gifts in bulk to whip out if ever he wants to pamper you with his material affection. Albedo is hyperaware of your hyperfixation and will always bring films the moment you run out, like foresight.

You can barely understand Albedo, despite the closeness you two had, he was still an enigma in most occasions. This was one of them. He had been binging on photography lately and everytime you look through the photos he captured, it didn't really make sense. The most random pictures that you wouldn't even dare use a film on strewn here and there, sometimes the photo is even cut off, and you'd think it was a mistake until he started organizing them in a system only he knows.

When you finally gathered up the courage to ask what all of it was about for, you were given a smile as cryptic as his album.

But as he pulls your hand with an excitement you've only seen when his chemical solution produces the expected buff, you somehow deduced that today would be the day you'd find out what the heck he was up to.

"It took longer than I expected it to be," he says as he starts unlocking a room in the Knights of Favonius HQ that you've never been in before, "but the end result was worth it."

Your confusion only grows as you were met with a face full of hanging pictures, most of it you recognize. Leaning over some and looking up on the higher ones, the amount of string and the confusing way they were set up, amazes you still with the amount of effort he had been using on such a big project.

Your untrained eyes loosely guess around 1000 films used for this.

The glass double doors that makes it way to the balcony opens loudly behind you. "Come here," you turn to see Albedo's silhouette open his arms against the setting sun behind him. "You're supposed to look at it from this distance." His arms engulfs you gently when you moved over, sending a gentle squeeze before he turns you back around to see the hanging pictures.

You gasp.

The depth and the splash of colors from this distance, aided with the sun, turned the hanging collage into an expertly placed collage as it shows you the bigger picture: a mold of your face of the first sketch Albedo made when you first met each other. The angles and colors measured to the dot to capture and replicate your beauty.

You feel his lips kiss the back of your head as you stared in awe.

Impromptu Albedo fluff yey

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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[yandere-society]

The Watcher

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Synopsis: You were supposed to be living your dream life… One where you would be able to start a happy family with your partner but instead here you were - sleep deprived and terrified of the very own walls you once called home. All because of him - he who haunted you day and night, he who surrounded the hidden corners of your mind. He, who called himself: ‘The Watcher.’

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Suicide mention, Abusive relationship, Mentions of mental illness 

Headline: Couple Flee Dream Home After Threats From “The Watcher”

Admin: @roses-ruby​

_

“Are you sure on the color? I didn’t know you liked green at all.”

“Yeah,” You reply casually, taking a mug out from the moving box. There was a paper wrapped around the mug for glass protection – one you discarded back into the package before placing the cup on the marbled counter. The kitchen window didn’t have curtains yet, which let warm sunlight pour into the room and light up the whole area. “It’s a really soft green. I think it’s optimistic.”

Your husband scoffs playfully as you walk over to the coffee maker. You had just moved in yesterday so your dream house – ready to be filled with everything you’ve cultivated throughout the years – only contained a mass of unloaded belongings. Yet still, nothing could beat the simple contentment of just existing in the exact place you’ve always wanted.

“I’m so happy to be here.”

“Well, I’m glad someone is.” Taehyung interrupts your wonder.

You stare at him with an eyebrow raised, grabbing the coffee pot, “Another letter?”

“Yup, the fourth one.” He sighs, “These neighborhood kids you know…they’re kinda creepy…”

Ever since you moved in you’ve been receiving odd, unmarked envelopes with strangely worded letters inside. They contained weird riddles and vague threats but neither of you were alarmed, deducing that the neighboring children were playing a prank on the newbies. Stranger things have happened, right? Perhaps you were both fools still in the honeymoon phase, too excited about your first month of marriage and future life to be brought down by such shenanigans.

“Oh, they’ll stop eventually. What was it this time though?”

“Something about the works of Jean-Paul Sartre or something-”

As soon as you heard the name, you froze in your tracks with the coffee pot hanging over the blue mug. Jean-Paul Sartre? No, it couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. Your husband seemed to be saying something in the background, but your brain was too blurred to listen. There was no way it was him. Even if there has only ever been one man you’ve encountered who was in love with the French philosopher as much as you were. It’s not him – not after 6 years. Not him.

“___?” His soft voice fills your ears, “___, I won’t let you go. You’re mine, now and forever-”

“___?” You suddenly feel someone grab your arm, snapping you out of your nightmare as you come face to face with your husband.

“…Huh?”

“Are you alright, ___? You look a little pale.” He asks, with concern lacing his features.

“I…I’m fine…I’m alright Taehyung…you know just…with the move and all…I’m tired…sorry…” You stutter out a response which he obviously didn’t believe. The more you gaze into his orbs, the more frightened you feel. Instead of easing his worry, your mind was only thinking of one thing: this can’t happen again, not again. Deciding that you didn’t want to be interrogated further, you move away from him, turning around and changing the subject.

“So…I’ll grab the paints today-”

“I’ll do it,” He interrupts, “If you’re tired you should go lie down.”

He walks past you, out of the room and a minute later you hear the front door open and shut. You just stand there – like a fool, wishing you could stop this feeling of fear and remorse from paralyzing you. Everything was going so well and then you had to go and ruin it by bringing him back into your conscience. Clenching your fist tight, you begin to cry, loathing yourself the most in that moment. This is what always happens to you when it concerns him and it’s why you don’t want him to come back into your life.

Please, not him.

_

“It does look optimistic!”

“Like a field of grass in front of a farmer!”

“Ugh, again?” You groan at your husband’s habit of cringe-inducing analogies.

“Oh, come on they’re cute!” He says, wrapping his arms around you as you laugh. The wall paint had finally dried and the soft green had settled nicely along with your furniture that you both had exhaustingly positioned in place. While you were playfully wrestling each other in the living room, you heard a small rustle of paper from the front door indicating the arrival of mail.

“I’ll get it!” You shout, removing his large limbs from you.

He chases you to the front door, tickling you as you pick up the fallen mail and begin to scour through the bills and ads for something important over a fit of laughter. The amusement and hustling came to a halt once you found another blank envelope in between your fingers. No one made a sound, already knowing who the sender would be.

“I’ll throw it out…” You hear the anger in your husband’s tone as he holds out his hand.

But rather than giving him the envelope, something inside of you encourages you to open it and take out the letter inside. There was a heavy, malevolent lull that surrounded the atmosphere as you began to read its contents.

“Dear ___, so divine.

I can’t stop running until you’re mine.

I keep this leash for the sake of peace,

and I’ll bite my tongue until blood fills my lung.

But Dear ___, so divine.

You should know that you’ll be mine.

I’ll watch you sleep and torch your wings

Until you’re wearing my wedding ring.

Sincerely, The Watcher.

“…What the fuck…” You could hear the horror in Taehyung’s voice. “How does he know your name?”

Because it’s him. Of course it is.

“It’s…nothing,” You say absentmindedly, laughing as you place the letter back in the envelope with trembling digits, “Just kids… playing a prank…”

“This is not the work of ‘some kids!’ It’s obviously a psychopath!” He yells in panic

“Don’t…” You mutter, an abrupt beating in your brain, “Don’t raise your voice, Tae.”

“But __-”

“I said it’s the fucking kids, didn’t I?” You grit in his face with your eyebrows furrowed.

He gapes at you for a second, his face a mix of confusion and shock, before he takes a step back. Taehyung didn’t understand why you were upset and he wanted to argue but then he saw the color leave your face.

You were staring straight at him, until you couldn’t anymore. The walls that were so beloved a minute ago now came closing in on you. Your breathing became hoarse and you took in large amounts of air to compensate up till the point where you couldn’t perceive clearly.

“___?” Your husband, a mere black silhouette, shook your arms as you began to bend over.

You panted as hard as you could, but you weren’t able to breathe and started to choke on your own spit. His image was lodging itself throughout your mind and the tears that crept out of your eye sockets felt like stones. This is exactly what you were afraid of, this is exactly why you didn’t want to believe it was him.

“Slowly baby! Breath slowly! Calm down!” His speech became foggy as your vision began to fade.

“H…seok-”

And then it was all black.

You woke up with a gasp, the image of a white ceiling sticking to your eyes. Did you pass out?

“Are you okay?” You hear your husband and turn your face to see him sitting on the floor next to you, who laid on the sofa. His face was downcast, hand holding onto you tightly as you slowly recalled everything that happened before you fainted.

“Yeah…I’m fine…”

Taehyung’s expression brought back that feeling again. That traitorous fear, that immense guilt. He deserved none of it and you hated yourself for making him worry. Countless times – you told yourself that you were over him and you could now wholeheartedly move on with your husband. But it seems like that was nothing but your own deceitfulness.

How did he even find you? What did he want from you now after six whole years? You try to sit up, wanting to feel as complete as you did before the wretched moment this afternoon.

“Tae…a-about the letter-”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry about that.” He smiles, helping you up by placing his hand against the small of your back, “…Just like you said, a prank, right?”

Taehyung, a man so usually stubborn – there was something off about his stance that you couldn’t pinpoint. But whatever it was, you were fine with it as long as it meant that you wouldn’t have to confront that. So, with a tense smile, you lie through your teeth.

“Y…yeah.”

And maybe this was your own undoing, but in that very second, when he gives you a beaming grin, you laugh. A bolder of pressure releasing from your shoulders. It’s alright, this was still your house and you were still safe here. Away from him.

You don’t notice Tae’s face falling as soon as you looked away.

_

When you woke up again, it had already been a month.

A month of living in your dream home with the dream life you’ve always wanted. Nothing could make you happier. You leave the bed and wander into the hall to remind yourself that this was real – that this serene place really existed, and you were going to start your new married life here. Placing your hand against the painted green wall, you marvel at the beautiful blend of colors and textures.

You found yourself searching for your husband around the large house you got to call a home. It had been your goal since long ago to own a place like this. Of course, back then you had desired the commitment with your then boyfriend, Hoseok.

In that instant you stop walking. Hoseok. It’s been a long time since you’ve recalled that man and hadn’t withdrawn in apprehension. He was a happy man, the Hoseok that everyone loved. A handsome man that was always glowing with a bright ball energy, he was everyone’s friend…a mood maker. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t love him. But the Hoseok you knew – your Hoseok was a monster.

A monster hell bent on possessing you.

Everyone adored him, but he only loved you. You were so delighted that he did, so overcome with joy that you hadn’t realized then that his fondness came with many setbacks. He made you laugh, he made you cry, but mostly, he made you feel love in a way you didn’t think was possible. Blame it on your youth – you were too wrapped up in the idea of Hoseok’s affection to understand that it wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t normal.

So, you overlooked his possessive nature and his jealousy and his anger. But your body didn’t. Your skin still held scars he cultivated through nights of sexual torture. Your ears still remember the words he used to berate you. Wounds you used to adore left you with raw shame after he discarded you. So much shame, that you couldn’t even think about him or your relationship with him without utter dread grabbing at your bones. However, it didn’t matter much anymore. You were no longer a young girl desperate for his approval… you were an adult – a woman who fell in love and got married to the only man she’ll ever need.

He won’t be able to possess you ever again; he was a monster. You’re so thankful that he hadn’t sent another letter for a while now, although his silence was a tad unnerving.

The door you stood in front of creaked suddenly, catching your attention. It was then that you realized you had ended up in front of your husband’s home office. That’s right, you were looking for your husband. A much kinder and sane person.

With a smile, you push open the door to be greeted with a large, soundless room. Your smile disappears as you spot the mess of papers on your husband’s desk. They were littered everywhere, covering the whole table while some fell onto the chair and the floor. You never knew that a messy pile of papers could look so menacing. The beating of your heart grew louder as you stepped closer to the desk.

You pick up a letter, then another – then many more as horror starts to fill your lungs. More poems and threats – all of them scattered in erratic handwriting that spelled insanity. All of them signed, ‘The Watcher.’ Had it gotten this bad? But when? How? Your husband hadn’t told you about any of this.

Your eyes land on a particular letter and you begin to read it against your own will. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, the only one that directly contained your name was the divine poem. Still, you knew if it was from him, then it was for you.

Do you remember when we used to visit that bistro across the street from your dorms? How cold it was that one night, and you hated the cold so I held your hand in mine to keep you warm. Your whole body was a chill and I took pride in heating every inch of your heart. I could watch you for hours on end, and never bore. I loved you dearly, only you. That’s why I’ll watch you for a thousand nights and love you for a thousand more.

Sincerely, The Watcher.

The bistro…you vaguely remember that place. Two college students barging in half high and so annoyingly in love. Hoseok would get so upset when you made eye contact with other male customers and sometimes, he would pick fights with them. Take them behind an alley and return all black and blue.

“I won.” He’d say with a grin while you cried your eyes out, wondering what was wrong with him but being too devoted to his smile to actually care.

“Why…why now…” You muffled in a painful voice.

Suddenly you heard the sound of words being spoken in the distance. It came from downstairs, somewhere near the front door. You gradually moved towards the voice, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts. Once you were in the living room, you stopped and hid halfway between a wall, spotting your husband talking to a man in a suit.

“I just…don’t know detective…”

Detective? He called the police?

“The letters, they’re deranged…and they’re just getting worse I’m- I’m afraid for me and my wife…I don’t know what to do…”

“Well, I can tell you to not worry too much.” The older gentleman replied in a gruff voice, “Whoever this is hasn’t done anything but send letters, so it seems like he’s just playing with you. I’ll have someone patrolling the block for a while, and we’ll be the ones receiving your mail before you do for now. I’ll be back to collect those letters and…we’ll catch this jerk in a matter of days, I’m sure.”

It seems like this case doesn’t interest him much.

“Th-thank you officer I just…worry about my wife she’s…she was so happy here and then…ever since we started getting these damned letters- that freak even knows her name-”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to question her? Perhaps she knows who this person is.”

“No. I don’t think it will be good for her at all. Last time she read a letter, she had a panic attack… they really upset her, so please…she can’t know of any more.”

“Alright…we’ll see what we can do for now and I’ll follow up in a couple of days…”

“Thank you so much officer-”

Their voices begin to blend into the background as you turned around so that your back was against the wall you hid with. You were finally, finally starting to be happy…truly happy so why? Why would he come back and threaten everything you’ve grown to hold dear? Anger and pain were swimming in your heart. Wasn’t he the one who left you behind? What did he want from you now?

“Why now…Hoseok…”

_

Two and a half months.

Two and a half months of acting awkward and silent around one another. You sigh, sitting in your car and bracing yourself before you walk through your front door. A month ago, coming home from work was comforting, but now it just felt drawn out and agonizing. Both of you were hiding secrets, and you both simmered in guilt because of it. But it wasn’t any of his fault; it was all yours.

You, who couldn’t get over that damn bastard that left you all those years ago.

Taehyung had always been so kind to you, and you who came out of such a torturous relationship appreciated that more than anything. Yet the thought of him finding out about Hoseok – about everything you let Hoseok do to you was mortifying. Would he, who treats you with so much care, think of you the same after he’s known the truth? It’s why you could never tell him.

You’re not sure if there had been any new letters, since the police was sorting through your mail before it came back to you. But deep down inside, in a secret place, you wanted to see what Hoseok had to say. If he was still reaching out to you, if he was still watching you. With one last breathe, you open the car door and step down, ready to trudge back into your room and forget these thoughts. 

Yet suddenly, when you were a few feet from your front door, you hear someone call out your name.

It was a lady, short bobbed hair - someone you knew you’ve seen before. She held a microphone in her hand and there was a man with a camera chasing her. There were many others with similar mics and cams rushing towards you with an eager look in their hungry eyes.

Your heart drops once you realize who they were. Reporters.

A whole group of them.

“Ms. ___, how long have you been receiving these letters now?”

“Is it true that this Watcher is from a previous affair you had behind your husband’s back?”

“Is he just some stalker?”

“How does he know your name? How do you feel about him knowing your name?”

“Are you and your husband sleeping in separate rooms?”

You started to speed towards your door as they all surrounded you, bombarding you with personal questions. Most of them kept saying your name over and over while shoving their devices in your face. So many thoughts ran across your mind but at the moment you were in no position to think calmly. Holding your breath, you managed to make it to the front door and took out your key. There was a slight struggle between you and the lock which they all saw, but still kept hounding on you.

Another panic attack was coming up, you could feel it. It seems like the police has been nothing but incompetent and now your private situation was to become a media debacle. You tried hard to concentrate on opening the door amidst the frenzy. Finally, you were able to make it safely inside and slam the door shut behind, with wild pants leaving your lips.

Your husband heard the noise and rushed from the kitchen to where you stood with a stupid look on his face.

“__-”

“Why are there reporters?”

“What?”

“WHY ARE THERE REPORTERS IN MY DRIVEWAY ASKING ME ABOUT THE FUCKING LETTERS?”

“I-I-I don’t-”

“Who did you tell?” You sneer

“I…I didn’t…just the police I promise!” He genuinely seemed shocked, to which you groaned. His expression became fearful, “You don’t think…that the police…”

“Well someone had to leak it!” Falling onto your knees, you place your head in your hands.

You thought you could come home, that once you came home this headache would end, but it was the loudest when you were in here. All you wanted was to fucking breathe – not hide in your house behind closed curtains, afraid and embarrassed to death with this loud pounding in your brain.

“___...” Taehyung steps close to you, and it seemed like he wanted to take you in his arms.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, making him flinch. “…don’t touch me…”

You were yelling but it was not out of anger. This was all your fault – everything was your fault and you felt nothing but disgust for yourself. Taehyung shouldn’t touch you or he’d become dirty too. For a moment you thought about telling him everything until your eyes caught something behind him.

All the noise outside only subsided once you zeroed in on an envelope slightly sticking out of the antique dresser drawer in your entrance hallway.

“How did that get there?” You slowly lift your hand to point towards it.

Taehyung follows your finger to the antique drawer, and you see the shock form on his face. All the letters were supposed to arrive in the mail which is filtered by the police so how did that get in here?

Was that man…

Was Hoseok in your house?

With a gulp, you stand up and walk closer to the drawer. You look over at Taehyung once you were standing in front of it, and he seemed defeated. Both by this cursed house and the mysterious man watching over it. Closing your eyes, you open the drawer and retrieve the envelope. Falling to the floor once you see that it’s blank again, with a single letter inside.

“I’ll watch you forever.”

Sincerely, The Watcher.

_

“Honey, the truck’s almost packed.”

“Yeah, just a minute.” You sing-song, staring at the mug you were about to place into the moving box. A strained smile stretches across your face as you think back to three months ago when you were unpacking all your little gadgets and trinkets, ready to settle into this house you once called home. That was a dream and like most dreams, it didn’t last too long. This place was now just a cause of your despair, it made you miserable.

After many sleepless night and restless days, you had decided to move out and try a start a new life somewhere else. Hopefully a place that could put you to ease - one that Hoseok could never reach. Taehyung wanted to move further north, which made you happy because you loved the cold.

Wait…you loved the cold? That’s not right, is it?

Also, it’s not like Hoseok could actually follow you. Because he…wait…how was it that he left you again? You know he left you – you keep repeating it to yourself, but you don’t remember him ever breaking up with you. He never really ‘physically’ broke up with you, did he?

There it was yet again. A loud obscurity corrupting your brain.

When suddenly, a realization comes over you.

Your head whirls towards the box you hovered over. You place the mug on the floor and begin to scrummage through the old box, searching for something specific. Glass protection. Once you feel the crinkly skin of paper, you take it out and smooth it over. The pounding in your head was back, and it was the strongest it has ever been.

Just as you thought, the paper had the familiar ink scribbles of an odd poem. It was a letter. Signed by The Watcher.

How could this be?

This paper was inside the box – you had used it for packing way before you ever stepped foot into this house. Yet for some reason, you can’t recall getting a letter from The Watcher before you moved in here. For a minute nothing made sense to you. It just felt like your conscious was off floating somewhere.

And then you looked up at the painted wall.

“I didn’t know you liked green at all.”

That’s because you don’t. No, of course you don’t, you like blue.

The one who likes green is-

A loud gasp leaves you as your behind makes contact with the floor. Every single thing comes crashing down at once, all the dots start to connect.

Hoseok likes green. Hoseok likes the cold.

Hoseok is…Hoseok is….

He’s dead.

He took his own life 6 years ago… he left you behind. It wasn’t him that’s been writing those letters-

“It was me.”

You forgot. No, you made yourself forget. Because there was no other way for you to cope. Instead of facing the truth, you repressed the memory of his death and then you began to haunt yourself using his image. Hoseok was a domineering force in your life and after possessing every inch of you till the point that there wasn’t a you without him, your mind was unable to comprehend his sudden departure. Tears began to roll down your face as you started to remember it all. Every moment you became ‘him’ and wrote those letters to yourself. You’ve done so for six whole years.

The reason why you’ve never evoked this before just now was the same reason as to why your trauma never became a problem for you until you moved into this house. It was because you just got married. Your mind had become fragile since his death, so shortly after writing and ‘mailing’ yourself these letters for comfort, you would read them and forget with ease, thanks to your isolation. But now that Taehyung was here – now that you were living with him, he became a witness to those letters and therefore gave them an ‘existence.’

He brought Hoseok back to ‘life’ in your brain.

It all made sense now. The headaches and the unbearable pain. You always knew there was something off but could never remember why. All those moments where you were scared of Hoseok, but never afraid of him showing up. Every time you pondered on the consequences of his being, rather than worry about him as a person at all. Only now, you’ve finally put the missing puzzle pieces together. Hoseok wasn’t watching you anymore…he couldn’t.

It was you, The Watcher.

You were the one keeping the monster alive. And you were the only one who could conclusively end him.

“___?” You hear the small, scared voice of your husband from the back. It seems like he heard your cries.

With a quick exhale, you turn around to face him. Looking at him straight in the eyes without any fear for the very first time. Your Tae, who deserved the truth no matter the cost.

“Taehyung…I have something I need to tell you.”

[moriartysnerd]

Jim Moriarty x fem reader Harry Potter! AU

An: this is kinda short, not really anything big. Just a cute little story. I want to start writing more one shot story’s in this AU. There will be many more parts, I just needed some soft fluf, tell me if there’s anything specific you’d like to see!

_______________________________

How you loathed mornings. The sun had finally just begun to hit your eyes as you awoke to the soft click of the dorm room door closing and giggling slowly fading away behind it. You finally managed to open your eyes and looked around. Everything around your bed was so clean, and all the other girls had left. The images of what you and sherlock did last night flashed in your mind. You where always so tired after a revision night with the ravenclaw. You struggled to keep up with him half the time, you couldn’t imagine how you two had become friends in the passing years but there was no getting rid of him. You wiped your eyes clean before getting up and preparing yourself for the day. Sherlock seemed to of gotten everything ready for you. Even folded your uniform. The neat freak. You smiled to yourself, slipping into your attire and then reaching for your tie. It was blue. Not only was it blue, it wasn’t yours. Sherlock’s cologne swiftly surrounded you as you picked it up. He’d taken the wrong tie. No. Of course he hadn’t. Sherlock Holmes didn’t make such simple mistakes. He was either marking you, or he wanted to tell you somthing. Either way, unless you wanted house points off you had to wear a tie. Unfortunately, you wernt in the mood to deal with a professor harassing you over somthing so simple. It was settled. You’d wear it.

It felt like it took you forever to get ready that morning, the minutes where dragging and so where your feet. Finally your hands reached for your bag, tossing it over a shoulder and groaning at the heaviness. Seems Sherlock had packed that too. You groaned in defeat as you realised you wouldn’t have the time to resort you bag and headed out of your room and down the stairs, making your way out of the common room. It still made you laugh to think that Sherlock had some how found a way to sneak passed the magic and get himself into the girls dorm room. He was bright, you’d give him that. He was also somewhat of a charmer. Always helping the other girls in your dorm room, Or waiting outside when any of them needed to change. He was more than welcome to say he wasn’t really a people’s person, but most of all. The girls loved the drama he could indulge. Sherlock could deduce things so easily with substantial evidence. He was a drama whore, he just didn’t admit it. He’d figure things out about couples, teachers, classes the works. It was like a super power. It even had its perks. He was a bright wizard and you where somewhat in his shadow, it didn’t help that people constantly doubted your intelligence. Thinking you where only friends with Sherlock so you could pass classes. You worked your ass off for those grades. With or without Sherlock.

You stumbled your way into the great hall, sighing softly when their was no sign of Sherlock. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He had your tie, he wanted something. You walked past a table, picking up an apple and taking gentle bites out of it, the noise of people chattering filled your eyes as you stared up at the huge Christmas tree in the corner. That’s right, Sherlock would be going home for Christmas. He’d invited you, but you’d declined. Christmas was for family after all. You smiled a little shaking Your head, you had Netflix and chocolates for Christmas. Plus most if not all the girls in your dorm would be gone. A practically empty school. Perfection.

You hadn’t noticed how far you’d wondered out of the great hall until you’d made your way to the whomping Willow tree. You knew not to get too close, she didn’t like that. You sighed softly as the wind blew through your hair, letting the breeze comfort you effortlessly.

“Blue tie L/N? Honestly, that man has you collared like a mutt.”

The Irish voice broke the silence, you didn’t face him. Moriarty. You knew it. You could feel it in your stomach. You and Moriarty weren’t really on speaking terms, he’d been harassing Sherlock a lot this month and you’d always been the one having to comfort the Ravenclaw after Moriarty visits. It didn’t help that Moriarty and Sherlock both shared a house. They where both Ravenclaws. Both so alike yet so different. Sherlock found it impossible to sleep in the same room as the man stood behind you. That had started the whole “study nights with Sherlock” thing. Sherlock would sleep with you, unbeknownst to the teachers, you where close. You wanted him to be safe.

You took yet another bite of your apple, the sour taste now running down your tongue and slipping down your throat. It was bitter. You threw the apple towards the willow tree and it sprang into action, destroying it in seconds. It was almost a warning. A warning for James to back off. Maybe he couldn’t find Sherlock either and that’s why he wanted to play with you. You wanted to tell you darker male to leave you alone, to push past him and never see him agian, but you couldn’t. In an odd way he had you wrapped around his finger, and only he knew that.

“I came out here looking for Sherlock. He has my tie. I wasn’t going to risk the house points.”

You stated, Still defiant and refusing to look at him. You knew it made his blood boil. He was taking time to give you attention. Attention that wasn’t being reciprocated.

“Didnt you hear? He left this morning.”

Those words rang in your ears as you swallowed dryly. He left without saying goodbye? It was stupid, of course it was, but it still bothered you. You two where always together. Then he just leaves? You thought you’d atleast get another week with him before he left for Christmas. You shook your head silently, finally looking into Moriartys deep eyes. Your stomach couldn’t handle it for too long as you looked away.

“Whoops. Have I told you something I shouldn’t? You should be used to this though, shouldn’t you? You’re always second best to him. If he leaves you. He still has John. Who do you have L/N?”

He practically sang those words but that didn’t stop the truth from hitting. You where going to be alone on Christmas. No matter what way you looked at it. Moriartys eyes softened as he looked down at you, was it pity? Possibly. You never knew with this man.

“He has a family. Which is more than either of us have. He’s his own person. He can leave if he wants too.”

You gently gripped Sherlock’s tie and pushed past moriarty, swiftly walking back inside. You weren’t about to doubt your best friend over this. No way. The day slowly blew over, you had been bored out of your mind without Sherlock. He annoyed the hell out of you, without him even magic couldn’t keep you entertained. 4 o’clock eventually chimed and you made your way to the library, there was one thing you could do that would pass the time. Work. You spent a good few hours revising alone. Picking out books and writing. Even practicing a few non-threatening spells while alone. You grew tired early, the sun just beginning to set as you put your last few books away, packing up your things and wandering down the empty corridor your ears picked up the soft Irish chuckle of moriarty once agian.

His laugh was sweet, it belonged in the hearts of millions. It was a shame it belonged to such a horrid person. You continued towards his voice, your feet moving without your mind even telling you too. He was stood near an open window, watching the sunset. He had quietened down and whatever he was laughing at had long since passed. Your hands traced the wall as you came up behind him, staring at the sunset, unsure of what to say. You knew this man. You knew him well. However once you started hanging around with Sherlock, you drifted. He was no longer the most important man in your life.

“It’s nice hearing you laugh agian..”

You spoke softly, looking up at moriarty, he didn’t even glance at you, but still acknowledged you. You gripped Sherlock’s tie a little tighter as you looked down. You felt the gentle touch of a hand brush yours as moriarty moved to hold your hand, still staring out. It was golden hour. Everything was beautiful. It was as if nothing had changed between you two.

“I do miss you sometimes darling, i must admit I hate how Sherlock acts like he owns you.”

Moriarty spoke gently, weaving a hand around your waste and holding you from behind, head placed on top of yours. Neither yours nor his eyes left from the gorgeous veiw of the lake just outside the window. Everything in that moment felt so right. You couldn’t even stop yourself from your own thoughts. They where a mess. Leaving you confused and somewhat brave. You couldn’t even prepare yourself for what was to come, but one string of words slipped out and for once, you where glad they did.

“Spend Christmas with me jim....”

[bubbleteaa]

Destroy her heart [Miya Atsumu x Reader]

Part I | Part II | Part III

destroy her heart;; pairing: miya atsumu x reader, slight sakusa kiyoomi x reader fandom: haikyuu!! warnings: angst. cursing. swearing. suggestive themes. some nsfw.  word count: 5K

a/n: thank you so much guys! I never thought that the first part was really going to get that attention. I decided to make this as a three part-fic. Again, thank you so much! I want to clearify that my image of Atsumu it’s very different that the one that I show on this fic. He’s baby! Sorry if you have thought that I don’t like the character or that I want to gave him this “fuckboy” vibe. This is just a fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Please stay safe <3 I love you. 

Summary: He destroys your heart.

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

“Who are you?” You turned slightly to find a pair of black eyes staring at the activity you were doing. You had just swept Atsumu's apartment and were mopping it. Your face was covered with a white mouth cap, your hair held in a ponytail, you had an apron and cleaning gloves.

The stranger awaited your answer, with his hands in his pockets and a mask covering his mouth.

"Uh, L/N. L/N Y/N” you replied softly before blinking a couple of times when the tall boy frowned a little “Are you looking for Tsumu?”

"You're his girlfriend?" he asked you. You shook your head "Why are you cleaning his apartment? Is he paying you to do it?" You denied again. Before you could answer, he asked you something again "What disinfectant do you use?"

“Uh, take it easy” You smiled a little behind the mask. The boy looked at you as you shook your head. “You ask a lot of questions. What is your name?"

“Sakusa” he snapped.

“Only Sakusa, huh? Okay” you agreed “I'm not his girlfriend. I clean his apartment because, apparently, he suffers from blindness, and he is not realizing that it is a disaster. And well, I also clean it better than him, so” you shrugged as you looked at him, his eyes kept inspecting your covered face “And the disinfectant I use ... well, the one I'm using now is that Tsumu had it at home, not very good. But the one I use in my apartment is the-”

“How often do you clean your apartment?” You blinked at the question.

"Uh... per week?"

"Per day" he said.

"Well... I don't clean it thoroughly every day, but I always try to sweep and mop when I get up and go to sleep. I don't like dust to accumulate”

You looked at how his eyes looked at you with a small sparkle, then averted his gaze and closed his eyes.

Sakusa moved his fingers inside his pocket, feeling strange tickles on his chest. It was strange, he hadn't met you before, he didn't know you existed until a few minutes ago. But your answers, how you cleaned, the care you had. Did it mean something? How had Ratsumu met someone who cleaned so well? Someone who knew how important hygiene was?

Unlike Atsumu, he did not join the college volleyball team immediately. He waited a semester to enter, because he wanted to survive the "fire test" of the first semester. If he did it, he would enter the volleyball team. The positive thing was that his grades were not as mediocre as in high school and he managed to survive the first period. Maybe that's why he didn't know you.

And he also didn't really know why you were cleaning Miya's apartment.

And it smelled good. It smelled good to be a bad disinfectant. He deduced that you had cleaned Atsumu's house once or twice before to know how to clean it.

“Kiyoomi” he said.

“Sorry?”

“Kiyoomi. Sakusa Kiyoomi. I will leave and return in an hour, is that enough? ” he asked you, as if he were longing for an answer “Tell Miya that I will see him in practice. See you later” he agreed before going out the door.

You smiled and nodded. You kept cleaning up thinking about what had just happened.

You thought you had made a new friend, for some reason.

"Learn from yesterday"

"This looks like a pigsty" you heard Sakusa's voice, instead of sounding upset, it sounded sad "How do you feel?" he asked, entering your room. You raised your face a little , which was previously hidden between the cushions of your bed, -the ones that still smelled of Miya Atsumu-colony , the strands of your hair h/c covered your face. You were sure it didn't look that bad, maybe there were books lying on the floor, just like your clothes, you were sure there were one or two bowls of ramen on the nightstand, but nothing more.

You wanted to answer, but your voice stagnated in your uvula. Before you could look at him again, Kiyoomi leaned in slightly so he could remove the hair that covered your forehead and your eyes. You felt the tears begin to flow almost spontaneously.

"You don't always have to answer all my questions" he clarified, before starting to carefully braid your hair "I'm going to prepare a bath for you and I'll clean your room, try to relax a little"

You started to sob, but you didn't hug him. It was enough that Kiyoomi touched your hair so lovingly and took his time to dedicate it to you.

"Sorry, Yoomi" you muttered between sobs, rubbing your wrists against your cheeks and eyes "I'm so sorry" you apologized, again. Sakusa pursed his lips a little, irritated that you were apologizing to him when you were not to blame for anything.

He didn't say anything to you as he continued to watch you keep breaking a little more in front of him. As you kept pushing the fact that you could be strong when you knew full well that you were no longer just broken, you were tearing yourself apart, inside and out.

Everything because of an idiot he thought.

Kiyoomi patted your head a few times, trying to calm you down. After a few minutes, you stopped crying. There were still a couple of sighs coming from your lips, which trembled whenever they parted. You already had a few weeks like that. Your teachers were worried about you, your classmates were worried about you, your friends, everyone.

Even Atsumu was worried about you, but he, unlike Kiyoomi, didn’t go to check on you. If you ate, if you were getting enough sleep, if you were giving a lot of thought to the whole thing.

But he have never entered your room before. He always stayed after practices, cleaned your apartment as he did with you before, prepared something for you to eat and left it at the door. You never opened immediately, you waited to hear his steps go away and you opened slightly, you took the plate, you ate and you left it exactly where he had left it before.

He cared about you, but he wasn't going to break into your personal space, not until that day. Not until after three weeks without seeing your face.

He just couldn't take it anymore.

He did not know everything that had happened, he found out from Atsumu himself.

“Oi, Miya. Where is her?”

“Where's who, Omi Omi?” He answered without looking at him, at that moment he was practicing his passes, Kiyoomi stared at him.

“Y/N”

“Ah” let out a small sigh before looking at him "Well ..., she must be in her apartment"

“Why haven't I seen her?”

“Because I made a mistake and broke her heart, I guess” he replied.

Everyone agreed that Miya did feel things for you. And everyone knew that you had feelings for Atsumu. Was that something so strong? Yes. It was so strong that you refused to accept that even being as you were, you still wanted to be with him. Even after knowing that you were only something for one night - and that everything they did together was to demonstrate something so stupid - you still wanted him.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi had not spoken either.

As he was leaving you for a few seconds, in order to prepare a bath, he thought about why he helped you in that way. Whenever he was next to you, his fingers itched, not in the sense that they were dirty, but that they sting as if they needed to be caressed. Once he tried to hold his own hand while being with you, and he realized that the feeling was not detached from him.

He wanted it to be your hand.

He wanted it to be you.

"Yoomi?" your voice got him out of his thoughts, you were on the edge of the door, your hair was still braided, he could notice now, thanks to the bathroom light, the dark bags under your eyes, your puffy eyelids, your pink nose. You were a mess. His fingers began to prick him immediately.

I want to hold you, I want to help you.

“The bath is ready. I'll go clean your room” he agreed, walking to the door, he stopped right in front of you “Call me if you need anything”

He walked to your room before you answered him.

❥•°❀°•༢

“Hey Tsumu” the Hyogo boy stopped reading your notes to turn around and smile at you. You were wearing his hoodie, your hair was held in a messy bun and your eyes seemed to close from exhaustion “Are you sure you want to sleep on the couch? You can sleep in my bed, you must be tired from practice”

“Nah, c'mere” he clicked his tongue and extended his arms towards you in a childish way “wanna cuddle right now”

“You are such a baby, I swear” even though you tried to sound annoyed, your smile didn't let you lie to him. You walked up to him and before you could sit down next to him, Atsumu had grabbed your wrist to lie down next to him, holding you tightly “Uhm, I see that someone is touch starving” you teased.

“Shut yer mouth” his voice was deep, hot breath against your ear “Why yer using my hoodie? Missed me?”

“No dumbass, I was doing the laundry and my hoodies are still wet. Plus, yours more" you paused suddenly, blushing and avoiding his gaze at all costs “yours is special I guess”

You are so cute he thought. A smiled creeped in his face as he lay on the couch and laid you on his chest. He carefully grasped the garter that held your hair and between your pouts, released the strands of your hair to caress them. Why are you so cute? He thought again, this time your hands were trying to push the setter away from your head, your eyes were shining with love and at the same time, they were drowning from sleep.

"You are cute when you yawned" he blurted out without much thought the moment you yawned again, your cheeks started turning pink from his words "You are really cute, Y/N-chan"

“Only for you, Sangwoo”

Atsumu wanted to take your face in his hands and kiss you, but he could not fall before your charms. He had fought for so long against his feelings for you, he was consenting to them, how could he not be? He always thought of you, he was almost always next to you, your apartment seemed more like their apartment.

It was as if you were a couple without really being one.

"Who the fuck is Sangwoo? Is he hot?" he laughed before pinching your cheeks.

“Maybe. But he is dead”.

"Are you trying to kill me or something?"

"Killing you with my cuteness, maybe" you pouted your lips before hiding in his hoodie. You felt his heart beating harder against you. One of your hands was playing with his dyed hair, the other one was holding his hand.

Please, please, just hold me. You wished.

Please, be this cute only for me. He wished.

❥•°❀°•༢

Memories.

In these moments, you lived on memories.

Memories of how you came to his apartment on Friday nights to watch cult movies, memories of how you went to his practices and games, memories of how he gave you his sweater and memories of when you two cooked together.

You hid your face in your hands, refreshing it with water. Immediately, you felt again as your lips began to tremble. You couldn't control it, but you were fed up. Tired of crying and not being able to control it.

You felt pathetic.

Not being with Atsumu was different, the silence was nothing compared to Atsumu's company, his tended to be overwhelming, there were always people murmuring when the boy walked by you, when he took your hand, when you sat in the cafe together and fed you with a smile. The whispers were always heard.

Now you knew why.

You forgave him, though. But you couldn't talk to him, every time you looked at his photos, memories of the night they spent together landed in your head. The way he kissed the complexion of your skin, the way his hands slid down your cheeks, the way they held your neck and hips, the words he whispered in your ear and against your skin.

Of course you couldn't look him in the eye. You had spent so much time idealizing the situation in your head, how good it would feel, how nice it was to make love with someone who corresponded your feelings, to be with Miya Atsumu.

It was a bucket of cold water that he told you later. And you needed time.

Would it hurt to see him again? Possibly. You weren't ready to do it. There were two years in which you dreamed of him, and your dreams were destroyed in minutes.

You plunged into the water, feeling how your braided hair began to moisten, feeling how your tears are drowning in the warm water.

You weren't ready to see him again.

Not in the eyes.

Not knowing what he had said that night. Not knowing what had happened between you.

You just couldn't.

❥•°❀°•༢

"Live for today"

Atsumu entered the classroom as usual, sat at his table and waited for the teacher to arrive. For the four weeks you hadn't been to class, the sit next to him remained empty. No one wanted to take your place, no one dared.

It was your place. At his side. Always by his side.

The truth was, he hadn't been with someone after he slept with you. He had done nothing more than take and stay two and even three more hours practicing. Trying to get you out of his head.

But it never worked.

When it was daytime, he thought about your smile, how good it felt to have his lips on yours, how his clothes ended up smelling of your perfume. How you were so small under him, how your eyes were filled with a different sparkle that night. He thought about your figure, your laugh, the “I love you”’s that you repeated not once, but several times while you moaned, while you kissed him.

And at night, he thought about how your tears rolled down your cheeks, he thought about how much you trembled. He thought about the damage he had done to you.

He couldn't forget it, not even with alcohol.

He hadn't spoken to many people since then either, he had had some issues, especially with his team after having sex with his libero's ex-girlfriend. It was resolved through discussion, but the tension was still there. The same with Kiyoomi.

But with Kiyoomi it was worse.

The countenance changed from that moment with the boy. You realized that Omi Omi had feelings for you.

“What?” Atsumu's voice boomed in the gym, he went back to practicing his serves while Sakusa looked at him from a distance “Do you want to stay to practice?”

“Y/N has not left her room” he said suddenly. Atsumu's eyes were fixed on the volley ball and he refused to look at the black-haired man again “She hasn't been going to school. I haven't seen her eat, I don't know if she's really eating. I don't know if she slept. I don't know how bad she is- ”

"How do you know all that?" Miya's voice sounded hoarse, different. Annoyance, anger, rage. Jealousy. Hatred. He squeezed the object in his hands. "Are you sleeping in her apartment or something?"

“I stay most of the time cleaning and doing chores. Unlike you, I care about her” he replied, moving closer to the blond “It's your fault that she is like this "

“How did you get into her apartment?” he stared at him. His gaze was dangerous.

"Spare key" he replied simply, looking him in the eye "How much are you interested? Anyway, I'm sure you haven't even taken the time to call her”

"Why the hell do you have a spare key?" his voice began to sound deeper and deeper. Atsumu dropped the ball and it bounced a few times.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Don't you-"

"Are you trying to take advantage of the situation? Are you waiting for her to open the door, wrapped in a sheet, crying, asking for your help? We both know you like Y/N. Do you think I haven't noticed how you look at her? What the hell did you think when you entered her home? Did you want to fuck her? You're a damn pig, Omi Omi. Do you think that playing with her feelings you can have her? She is mine-"

"You are the pig. You were the one who took advantage of her. You were the one who played with her feelings” the words made Atsumu stop dead in his tracks. He clenched his fists. “Yours? Y/N is not yours. She never was and I doubt that at some point she will be, not after this”

There was silence after that.

Weren't you from him?

Were you with Kiyoomi now?

Why washe  thinking about that?

He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to push the thoughts out of his head. His gaze fell for a second at the entrance and he immediately veered away.

Only to return almost to the second.

There you were. With your bag hanging from your left shoulder, your hair was loose, you had on the glasses you used to read from time to time. Atsumu stared at you. You looked at him without even noticing.

Both of their hearts stopped for a few beats.

She/He looks fine. Like nothing happened.

You lowered your gaze a bit before walking to your sit next to him. At his side. Where you belonged

The moment you sat down, you took out the notes you had written in a separate notebook, all sent by some of your colleagues, most of whom you had helped in more technical classes. You didn't even look at Atsumu for a second.

He look  immediately your hands. Then your hair, then your face in side profile.

I had missed you.

Were you always that beautiful?

Why don't you look at me?

Y/N.

Look at me.

Please.

Please Y/N.

I missed you.

I need you.

Talk to me.

“Do you want me to talk to you?” Atsumu blinked. He averted his gaze slightly before placing his cheek in the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the bench. You took silence as his response “Hello, Atsumu”

“Why didn't you come?” he knew the answer. But he wanted to hear it with your words. He wanted you to humiliate him, to hate him, to give him a reason to beg your forgiveness. He wanted you, even out of courtesy, to answer him.

“I wasn't ready,” you replied simply, with a firm voice.

“Ready for what?”

“To treat you like always even when you broke my heart. I'm trying to fulfill what I promised you” you turned your face a little, without looking into his eyes “I'm sorry for failing you, I was missing a long time. I will try to catch up as quickly as possible”

“No” he said immediately, watching as you lightly squeezed the notebook in your hands, "No... don't worry about it, take the time you need. Uhm…” He was speechless when he looked up and observed the professor entering the auditorium.

“Thanks, Atsumu”

Why did you thank me? Thank you for breaking your heart?

You didn’t talk to him for the rest of the lecture.

Atsumu and you did not talk about what happened. You did not even approached to him in class for the next days. He was looking at you, hoping you started the conversation. Sometimes he gave you glances just to notice that your eyes were glued to the teacher at all time.

You were mad. Hurt. Broken.

And it was his fault.

Her legs were moving nervously. The last time you had properly talked, the only words that came out of his mouth were cruelty and lies. Since then, to forget his words, he drank more than usual. He went out more to the club. The hours in the practices were extended. He hit the ball with supernatural force.

He was upset. He was sad. Hewas broken.

And it was his fault.

When the class was over, he watched as you calmly took your things and got up from the desk you shared with him.

"Uh, L/N-san"

His ears focused on listening to your conversation with your Economy buddy while he kept his belongings.

“Yes?” Your voice sounded normal. It was not broken or trembling like when it broke your heart “Is something wrong?”

“We should organize ourselves to work in the workshop”

“Oh yeah!” Atsumu looked at you for a few seconds. You were smiling at him while you were looking for your cell phone in your bag “Do you have a free period? We can go to the university café”

Atsumu frowned slightly. Before the disaster, he hadn't paid attention to the guys around you. Or how they looked at you. Or how they addressed you.

Because he scared all the boys who tried to get close to you.

“No, but, we can see each other next Wednesday at the cafe after school” he smiled at you.

It was jealousy.

The boy was always quiet, but you had never complained about him. You were helping him where you could and the economics teacher had paired them that semester together. Actually, you had said that it was quite nice. It was difficult talking to him, after all, the boy was embarrassing.

He shook his head, trying not to pay attention to your conversation. Your hands landed on the desk .

“Do you want to go to the cafe?” Atsumu asked “If he couldn't, we can go together-"

To catch up. I really miss you .

“Y/N” both turned to the known voice. It was Sakusa. Atsumu furrowed his brow when he saw him enter the hall and up the stairs to where they were "Let’s go"

"Oh Yoomi" you smiled at the event "Actually, Atsumu asked me if I wanted to go to the cafe, I was about to answer him"

"I'll wait for you outside, then" Kiyoomi looked at the blonde and withdrew, at no time did he lower his mask and neither did he remove his hands from his pockets. He walked back to the door, not looking back.

Yoomi?

“Today I can't, Yoomi is going to help move some things from the apartment-"

“What?” he interrupted, opening his eyes a little “Are you going to move or something?”

"No. In fact, I am going to remodel? I need something different"

“The apartment looks good as it is” he whispered, somewhat uncomfortable. “Why would you change it?”

"Many memories, I suppose"

Oh.

That.

“Ah, okay… well, I guess you should go. You don't want Yoomi to be irritated.” He spat out the boy's name with some anger, but apparently you didn't notice it.

You smiled and nodded a little. “Yes, well. See you later, Atsumu "

“Fucking hell” he murmurs while watched you leave the room. You were leaving in front of him. I've needed to talk to you. To walk with you. To be with you.

He needed you.

But he didn't deserve you.

❥•°❀°•༢

He was drinking again.

“What do you prefer? Win a million dollars or find the love of your life?” Miya asked you while he ate the last onigiri.

“I would choose the million dollars”

“Uhm” you laughed lightly before taking a sip of your drink “And why would you choose that?” Her brown eyes looked at you curiously.

“Because money attracts people, duh” you replied before looking at him “And if he comes to me for money, then he is not the love of my life. I would know that he is the love of my life if he stays with me before and after winning the million” you shrugged your shoulders and you looked at him with a smike" As simple as that "

"You are so cheesy, did you know that?"

"I'm just honest, Tsumu~"

"I still don't understand why you don't have a boyfriend, Y/N" He avoided looking at you when he said it, his trunk-colored gaze stuck to the drink in front of him “Are the others guys blind or what?”

“Well, you scare all the guys that approach me” you didn't sound upset, to tell the truth, he could feel your smile between your answer "But I guess I'm still looking for the right one. Or knowing him. Or talking with him right now. Who knows"

Atsumu looked you in the eyes, a soft and sincere smile was adorning your face. Your eyes were fixed on his. There was a particular glow, something unusual in how you were looking at him at the time. Like you're confessing a big secret.

"So cheesy"

I missed you.

“What are you doing here?” his voice sounded agitated, you were in the frame of the door of the gym looking at him “Isn't it late?”

“That is why I am here, Tsumu. You must rest and the only way you rest is to get you out of this gym” you sighed looking at him.

"Ah" he laughed lightly before shaking his head "You care about me"

“Of course I care about you, apparently you don't care about yourself, fool” you defended yourself before frowning “Let's go, it's really late, Tsumu”

“Thank you” he said, smiling at you. “For worrying”

The taste of alcohol seemed like water to be high. It was not enough.

You were more than enough.

"Cheetos or Doritos?"

"They are both cardboard, Atsumu"

"What!?" He opened his eyes to drop the packages he was holding. You instantly burst out laughing "Really?"

"Yes Tsumu"

"Uhm ... I guess I like cardboard."

Your smile.

Your laughter.

"Can you come over, please?" He was not thinking when he called you. It was very late, and early in the morning. Your apartment and his were not far away " I need to talk to you about something"

"We can talk on the phone," you sounded sleepy.

"I... I really need you to come for a moment, please" he practically fought against his voice, he was so drunk that he didn't process his feelings well "Please, Y/N. I've missed you a lot”

You bit your lower lip before answering.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes”

❥•°❀°•༢

Why did you go?

Why?

You asked yourself the same thing over and over again while your lips were glued to Miya's hair. It was dawn when Atsumu stopped stroking your bare back 

“I love you” he murmured. Your heart was still broken “I love you more than anything in this world” he squeezed you in his arms, hiding his face in the valley of your breasts. He left wet kisses against your skin “I missed you so much, I needed you so much” his voice broke, before beginning to touch you with need, hoping you were real “Look at me, please. You haven't looked at me in weeks. I need you to look at me” your eyes trembled with fear before looking him in the eyes, Atsumu kissed your lips immediately “I'm so sorry, Y/N "

You answered the kiss, between sobs. His hands began to squeeze the flesh on your hips, before gently biting down on your lower lip. Atsumu tasted like dry vodka, you tasted like cold tea. You moaned softly when he inserted his tongue into your oral cavity and his hands found the space between your legs.

“So wet, already?” he hissed in a hoarse voice, he lowered his kisses down your neck as he bit, licked, kissed and sucked your skin s/c, wanting to leave marks for everyone to see that you belonged to him “You are drenched” he lowered his kisses to your breasts, attacking them with licks while one of his hands caressed all your femininity.

"Tsumu" you moaned, squeezing your legs a little, trapping his hand in your pussy.

"You like this, don't ya?" he kissed you again “You like having me pleasuring you? Begging you to come here? Desiring you? Loving you? Missing you?” He gently pulled your jaw, thrusting his tongue in again, without closing his eyes. You moaned in the kiss and lightly denied "You are liar"

"Hope for the future"

“Don't you dare say that what happened last night was a mistake” you said without looking at him, squeezing your hands a little “Don't you dare say it, Atsumu”

“I'm sorry Y/N”

“Don't do it”

“Do you love me, Y/N ?” You were fighting against your feelings, against the truth. Atsumu looked at you with tired, sad eyes

“That is irrelevant now.”

“I love you” you assured

“No... it was the emotions of the moment. You got confused, who would love someone like me?”

“Don't do it. Don't try to manipulate me into making me feel horrible and tell you that I love you over and over again, only to be break me again. Don't do it, Tsumu”

“You and Kiyoomi have something?” he asked, pressing against him “Do you love him?”

“He is my friend, Atsumu”

“No, he does not want to be your friend” he took your face in his hands “He wants to have you against his body, just as we are now” you blinked confused, denying “He wants everything we have. He wants to take you away from me”

“Are you listening to what you say, Atsumu?”

Of course I'm listening to myself.

I do not want to lose you.

I can not lose you.

I must not lose you.

“Of course!” he screamed, hitting the pillow next to you, you froze “And it's your fault!”

"My fault?"

You felt something strange in your chest. It was rage.

Before he could go on, you opened your mouth.

“Do you know something, Tsumu? I wish I had never met you” those words stopped him “Then, I wouldn't be here, humiliating myself. Then, there would not need to cry over you, no need to want you, no need to miss you, no need to loving you” your voice started breaking “No need for forgotten promises, for lies. No need for touch starving hugs, no need of pain and tears, no need to fucking crying until I fall asleep. No need for nothing. Nothing” you shouted, crying “Do you even realize how broken I am? How stupid do I look? How pathetic I am? ”

You were lying. You are lying.

Don't lie to me.

No.

I shouldn't destroy her heart.

But I can't help it.

That words hurted.

I don't want to hurt you.

Please.

“You are right” he whispered “I wish I wouldn't met you either. You are so pathetic, so idiotic. I wish you fucking disappear or something, vanish” He was destroying you.“Get the fuck out of here” he said, coldly “And fuck with Omi Omi if you fucking want. Trash mean to be together, right?” He was not sober. Not at all. “You should fucking disappear for the whole existence; I don't give a single fuck”he stops touching you “Just fucking leave ”

The tears didn't come out in front of him. You grabbed your clothes and started dressing yourself.

“And, Y/N” you stopped, waiting for whatever he was supposed to say “Leave and close the damn door”

And that's what you did. You close the damn door.

Your heart.

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 6503 ⚬ warnings: degradation, drinking ⚬ genres: this is just smut. filthy smut. featuring a lot of dirty talk from soonyoung and a hint of a secret au!

 ✧✎ synopsis: the tension between you and a mystifying stranger at the club only thickens each time you meet. he seems like a risk you’re willing to take.

✧✎ a/n: GOD. i have not written straight up smut in two years! i mean, there is a little bit of a background plot, i hope it’s all enjoyable hehe. also, the “secret au” is pretty easy to guess lol, but i suppose it could be a couple of things!

The first time you see him, you’re surrounded by your friends, packaged into a small space that grants you just enough room to sway your body and bring a pink-coloured drink to your lips. He’s across the room, leaning back on a white sofa. Impassively, he overlooks the crowd, until his entourage returns from the shadows to occupy the hard cushions. One of them leans into his ear and whispers something. You force yourself to swallow more of the sweet syrup from your glass, wondering what was said that makes him smirk.

A hand touches your bare shoulder, to which you turn around and grin rather intoxicatedly at your friend. She’s equally inebriated, and as the music reverberates toward the centre of the floor, you wrap an arm around her waist to pull her in close and move with the beat. You take another sip from the glass before hoisting it high in the air, hips undulating, feeling the heat and the dizziness and her hot breath hitting your ear as she mouths along to the lyrics.

Eventually, you two part, and your turn yourself back around almost immediately. As much as you want to believe it’s not because of the stranger, that seems to be the only plausible explanation, and it only burns that much deeper when you realize he’s staring at you. One arm stretches around the back of the sofa, his other hand loosely holding an amber shot glass at his knee. For a moment you stop moving to return his gaze. The stranger isn’t coy. He evidently scans your body, starting at your laced stilettos, venturing up the black fabric hugging your waist, and landing at the haze in your eyes.

You feel warm, but it’s not the muggy air, the crowded club, or even the violet lights.

However, you’re soon met with the repercussions of the dance floor as an unfamiliar body slams into yours, jostling you forward. You grimace as alcohol sloshes over your glass, prompting you to quickly escape toward a less populated pocket of space. The stranger’s glance follows you, yet his mood has shifted. Instead, he chuckles and shakes his head while bringing the shot glass to his lips, downing the golden liquid in a short swig. Your heart thunders upon watching him gently elbow his friend, where he utters something into his ear that preludes their amused, somewhat snide expressions.

It’s downright embarrassing. You can only deduce they’re enjoying your accident with the drink, even when the same predicament had probably just happened to someone else at the opposite end of the room. The stranger’s gaze seems to be searching out a different body, though you aren’t certain, rather you weave your way through the tables to find the washroom and rinse the alcohol from your hand. Admittedly, you feel disappointed to lose the stranger’s attraction. You can’t remember the last time you experienced a successful hook-up where you weren’t exaggerating your lacklustre pleasure.

Your hopes had simply been too high.

The second time you see him, you’re sucking restlessly at a straw, completely emptying the glass until there’s nothing but crushed ice cubes watering down the last few drops of alcohol. Looking up from the table, you spot him buried in the wave of sluggish bodies, the violet light tingeing his partially unbuttoned dress shirt and his black hair. But it rapidly dawns that he’s not dancing alone, for a girl twirls into his arms, pressing her backside to his front, rubbing herself against him while his hands explore her torso. The light hits a new angle on his throat, illuminating the trail of hickies.

It cuts through you, for the envy is like a blade generously sharpened. Even though you will yourself to look away, it becomes an impossible task, to which you trace their every movement without missing a heartbeat. His hand, clad in a myriad of silver rings, engulfs her breast and squeezes. Her head tilts back onto his shoulder, gasping something that seems to be full of euphoria. His eyes flicker quickly, and as though you’re a rabbit that’s to be nicked by an arrow, you’re caught directly in the crosshairs. You wish there had been more alcohol lining your glass so you could’ve turned further numb.

Enveloped in the stranger’s trance, you watch his hand slide around the column of her neck, how his gaze never falters even when he licks a stripe up her skin and nips at her ear. Folding one leg over the other, you attempt to snuff the venereal warmth that flutters at your abdomen, hating that you’re imaging what each sensation would feel like if you were against his body rather than her. His eyes are black, poisonous, and yet you contain so little care that he might be a menace, not when he grinds his hips against the dip of her spine while she hides her face in his neck, already suckling another bruise.

You have no idea what she’s feeling, or why he can’t take his eyes off you. It’s a bit unabashed and perhaps from a place of unsatiated neediness, but you’d really love for him to fuck you.

Maybe your third encounter will be the charm.

“Drink or dare?”

“Dare.”

For the past two rounds, you had purely subjected your body to the potent taste of sour, cold lime and gin mixed with tonic. Not desiring to ram your consciousness further into the ground, you finally chose dare, which uproots some whistles and snickers from around the table. Your friend bites her lip, straining her neck while her eyes cherry pick through the club-goers. Despite the alcohol exchanging your blood for liquid fire, there’s a nervousness in your tummy, and you can’t help fiddling with the hem of your black dress upon waiting for her sinister verdict.

“Alright,” she says, almost yelling over the thunderous bass, “I dare you to ask that guy what his biggest secret is!”

You follow her pointed finger, and your heart seems to immediately shrivel. He’s standing by the white sofa, invested in a conversation with another man who’s holding a martini glass, filled with a drink that’s an electric shade of blue. He offers the drink toward him, but the stranger denies, aggressively pushing away the glass. You sense a scuffle is going to break out between the two men, until someone else who always seems to accompany the stranger steps in, diminishing the conflict.

“Well?” She calls out to you, quirking an eyebrow. “You going or not?”

“I’m going!”

You slide off the stool and pull down your dress. As you shift your way through the crowd, you attempt to rally some confidence, rehearsing the different approaches you could take upon introducing yourself. Yet, there’s a gigantic roadblock. How are you going to persuade him to reveal his biggest secret? From what you already gleaned, he appears unforthcoming, but awfully magnetic.

By the time you’re tapping his shoulder, your confidence disintegrates like a dried flower petal and every nonchalant line you practiced in a spasm floats out your head.

His eyes are much darker in proximity, the colour of sable, and he smells like a royal cologne you can’t afford. He waits for you to speak first, almost as though he knows how nervous you are, wanting to revel in the trembling notes of your voice.

“I-I’m supposed— I’m, uh… How are you?” It’s painful, but you manage to choke it out.

With his hands casually buried in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, he shrugs.

“I’m fine, honey. And yourself?”

Your blood surges, for you can feel it dragging through your veins, and a heat unlike any other draws a glimmering film to your palms. Due to the pounding music, you both have to raise your voices.

“I’m –uh– good? Yeah, I’m good!” Somehow, your lexicon could exist on the point of a needle.

The stranger chuckles. He’s enjoying your flustered nature far too much.

Quickly, you spiel out another question: “what’s your name?”

However, he doesn’t catch it. Instead, he taps his ear and leans in.

“What’s your name?” Your entire chest beats wildly upon repeating the question. The black fibres of his hair smell like passionfruit, but there’s a distant scent, and you think it’s charcoal.

He pulls back and smiles. “Soonyoung.” His name simmers in the thick air for a moment.

Your skin intensely prickles as his gaze then traces the length of your body, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, plump and pink as he asks, “what about you?”

Soonyoung lowers his head again, to which your lips nearly touch his ear upon replying with your name. Once more, he smiles contentedly, while you believe that the scent in his hair has to be charcoal, or maybe even gunpowder. You think about the man with the electric blue drink, how he must’ve sunk into the shadows after Soonyoung’s friend intervened. The dare is still in the back of your mind, even when you inquire on a different topic.

“Why do you look at me all the time?”

There’s something about the darkness in his eyes that keeps you allured, even when you sense it’s better to reject the dare all together and brace through another gulp of gin and tonic.

“Hm. That’s not what you came here to say now is it, honey?”

His response unsteadies you. As Soonyoung counters your question with another question, a small curl develops at the corners of his mouth, as though he knows something you don’t. From his backside, another companion of his abruptly slides by, his hand settling on Soonyoung’s shoulder while he whispers into his ear. The man disappears immediately afterward, like he was nothing but mist.

The strangeness of it all leads you to fumble.

“Well… I-I was dared to come over here. I have to ask what your biggest secret is…”

It’s rather embarrassing to admit. You’d shoot a glare toward your friends if you weren’t so enraptured by Soonyoung’s unfaltering eyes.

“My biggest secret?” He drags a hand slowly through his hair while he bites his lip, thinking. You presume the gold watch on his wrist must cost more than your rent.

“I think I have a good one.” The manner in which Soonyoung’s tone had deepened piques your curiosity, though his soft smirk suggests you should consider if you truly want to know the answer.

Not willing to capitulate when you’ve succeeded this far, you dare grin at him, ensuring that you’re heard overtop the club music when you invite, “tell me.”

The sweltering of the amethyst lights and the concentrated gin coursing beneath your flesh does nothing to mitigate how hot you feel. When Soonyoung steps in close, his cologne seems to envelope you in an unbreakable spell, and your fingernails dig into the flexible, tight fabric of your dress when his lips brush your ear’s cusp. His voice laps like velvet at your very core.

“I think about fucking you, calling you my pretty little slut as I shove your face in my pillow and put my cock so deep inside you that you’re screaming. Every time I have a girl in my bed, I imagine it’s you, begging me to give it to you harder, begging me for my cum, and I make you take it all, just so I can watch how it drips out of you, honey. ”

Then, Soonyoung is leaning away with an expression that’s wholly complacent, meanwhile your universe is splitting itself apart beneath the flame of his words, a sensation much too slick now dampening the lace between your thighs. You can’t help but wet your dry lips.

“Is that a big enough secret for you, huh?” He purrs, a purple glint flashing in his eyes.

Nothing pieces together in your head. There is not one sentence bothering to make itself apparent, let alone any margin of thought that was relatively pure. Engulfed in the midst of unintelligible music and sanity that endlessly dwindles, you decide the only sensible reply is to kiss Soonyoung. This is just an opportunity you can’t lose. Pressing your chest to his, one hand gripping his shoulder, you at long last acquaint yourself with his candied taste and the softness of his pink mouth.

Soonyoung grins upon the pressure, the gin and tonic that coats your unhesitant tongue, how you mewl so helplessly when he digs his fingers into your hips like they were meant to be imprinted with bruises. Winding your arms around the boy’s neck, you fall into him in complete vulnerability, pull him down closer while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he chuckles breathily, his hands venturing lower to squeeze your ass, “bet you’d let me bend you right over on this couch, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Sliding your fingers through the feathery, black hair at his nape, you push your lips to his once more, nipping at his bottom lip that shimmers with your own saliva. Honestly, Soonyoung isn’t far from the truth. The last time you experienced such a sharp, needy pang at the apex of your thighs is thrust back too far in your memory. His hands reach down over your ass to the dress’ hem, where he hikes up the tight material slightly, his fingertips suddenly stroking you through your underwear.

“Please, Soonyoung,” his name feels so right as it escapes your throat, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His firm grip plants back on your hips, and he catches your stare, deep and lustful. “You’d let me take you home, baby? Are you sure you want this?”

Immediately, you nod your head, arms fastening around his neck. “You can take me anywhere.”

Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t once consider your friends crowded at the table across the club, nor would you care if they witnessed Soonyoung’s hand slipping beneath your dress to brush your clothed folds, not when a sensation felt that appeasing. He smirks, then briefly turns around, tapping a member of his entourage on the shoulder to exchange another whisper. The only thing you register is your burning excitement when Soonyoung tilts his head in the direction of the backdoor exit.

“C’mon,” he takes your hand, “my place isn’t a far walk.”

Soonyoung seems to live in the esteemed, Grand Plaza that’s no further than a street down from the club. It’s surrounded by the flashy nightlife, and as he pulls you into the foyer, completely marbled and elegant, you infer that he must be paying bigtime in order to maintain an apartment amidst the city’s pumping heart. The second you reach the elevator, he’s already pinned you against the cold metal, his kisses full of aggression and clever tongue that you pathetically whine for.

His palm sneaks up your dress, cupping at your pussy aching for any degree of attention. You grind into his hand and Soonyoung delights at your arousal. In fact, as the elevator nears the appropriate floor, a desire to touch every crevice of your body consumes him. Before you can take in another breath, the sweet pressure deserts your core, his fingers now pulling aside the plunging v of your dress so that he can free your breast, to which he immediately licks and suckles over the soft skin. A small ding resonates from the elevator, though he spends an extra moment lapping at your nipple.

You step away to avoid an embarrassing blunder with the doors and hastily readjust your dress. Once Soonyoung confirms that the corridor is clear, it’s a blitz to his room, his key card shoved carelessly into the slot before he’s dragging you inside. The sight of his apartment admittedly stuns you, particularly the tall, slender windowpanes that reach directly to the floor, the high arch of the ceiling and the diamond chandelier hanging like a celestial object.

Soonyoung touches your waist, pushing your spine to his door. His fingers then graze underneath your dress to the inside of your thigh, where he merely snaps your lace panties against the skin.

“You’re going to be my good little slut for the night, aren’t you?” He asks, his tone dripping much like syrup. You nod without question, and his other hand rests next to your head while he murmurs huskily into your ear, “take your underwear off for me, sweetheart.”

The fabric slides down your legs and drops at your ankles, which you manage to kick away, though you don’t miss the embarrassingly large wet patch that stains the lace. It only amplifies this desperation that’s been blooming inside you, and as Soonyoung slowly drops to his knees, a shaft of moonlight falling across the complete blackness in his eyes, you can’t help the shudder that strings so icily down your back. He begins tucking up the dress until it sits nice and snug over your hips.

Something about the way he gazes at your heat crushes every bit of breath from your lungs. Without warning, Soonyoung nestles his face between your thighs and delivers a long, hard lick, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your contorted expression as his tongue drags against your nerves.

He smirks wolfishly. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. Does your pussy always get this soaked?”

You struggle to articulate when Soonyoung places another lethargic lick with the flat of his tongue, a scoff half-rumbling in his chest while he massages your clit using the slick muscle. Somehow, you find the words, though they sound strangely distant as they echo outside your haze of pleasure.

“N-No, only when I-I think about you.”

Soonyoung’s guttural laugh strikes your core, and with a swift movement, he manages your leg over the back of his shoulder, improving his access to your plentiful wetness. A sharp inhale rushes between your teeth upon the boy sliding his index finger past your slit, until the thick silver ring dissuades him from pushing the digit in any further. He curls it, rubs against your silk to make you moan. Your fingers scratch into the door, not yet sure if you should be rifling them through his locks.

“Yeah? You think about me, baby?” It almost seems like a taunt. “Entertain me then.”

Just as you open your mouth, Soonyoung deviously slips in another finger past your opening, trails of gloss seeping down his hand as he stretches your pulsating warmth.

“I-I imagine this,” even with the boy on his knees and his fingers ticking your sweet spot, it’s still difficult to admit such filth, “I imagine you e-eating me out, n’making me cum.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He purrs knowingly against your clit, his lips kissing the sensitive bud. “Such a good girl, letting me taste this pretty pussy.”

You hum in agreement, eyes falling shut to bask in the overwhelming sensations and how expertly Soonyoung reads on your slightest twitch or exhale, pinpointing the areas that prominently break you down and render you incoherent. Every so often you feel the cold silver of his rings brush your heat as he continues pumping his fingers, to which Soonyoung notes that your leg always trembles against his shoulder. Smiling, he presses his fingers in further, the rings just touching your inner walls while he swirls his tongue at a slow, thorough pace against your clit, satisfying the ache.

Unable to process the insane pleasure, your spine arches from the door and your fingers latch into the boy’s strong, black roots. You pull up on his scalp, cursing vehemently.

“F-Fuck, Soonyoung! Soso good—nngh—don’t stop, please!”

You almost feel apologetic for his neighbours who must hear these unabashed shouts muffle through his walls each night, though you can’t be bothered to moderate your volume when Soonyoung abuses your g-spot with the deep, consistent massaging of his fingers. He attaches his mouth overtop your clit, his tongue lathering across the bud before he starts flicking it harshly. At that moment, nothing else surges through you but an unprecedented hedonism, and you stuff his face in further to your heat. With your head tossed back against the door, you almost fear how greatly this orgasm builds.

It feels like the pressure situated at your abdomen could burst you open like a water balloon, and the only manner in which you can express the pleasure is to wail helplessly. As Soonyoung’s touch sinks so deliciously against that heavenly spot, his tongue, unrelenting and passionate, working to abuse your swollen bud, your body discovers its incapability to hold out a moment longer. Instead, it crumbles, and with a piercing cry of Soonyoung’s name your arousal gushes onto the boy’s awaiting face.

But he doesn’t wither away or allow the room to stop spinning, rather he delivers a few more vigorous pumps with his fingers and licks over your throbbing bud, all while you feel some of the liquid drip down your inner thigh. Breathing feebly, you tug hard at his scalp in an attempt to make him remove his mouth, for your heat feels raw and swells with oversensitivity.

“Soonyoung, please,” your eyes heavily pull open, “i-it’s hurting too much.”

At last, his fingers retreat from your opening and his mouth allows the cool air to ghost over your flesh. It’s alarming to observe the droplets of your cum that glisten on his face, his lips, so flushed and shiny, yet the boy’s tongue only curls out to collect the arousal.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. Did you know you could squirt, sweetheart?” His smile is cunning. “Or has no one ever treated your pussy that well?”

“I’ve never done it before,” you laugh breathlessly, and your head hits the back of the door as you attempt to process what just happened, “I didn’t know something could feel that good.”

While your fingers brush back his hair, Soonyoung places soft pecks up your inner thigh until he reaches the enflamed skin of your core. He catches your infatuated gaze, ensuring you watch as the very tip of his tongue pushes in shallow past your opening before the muscle circles delicately around your clit. Your hips jerk against his face, to which the immediate reverberations in his chuckle vibrate past your folds. Attentively, Soonyoung kisses the sensitive bud, and then your stomach.

After removing your leg from his shoulder, he rises to his feet, the darkness still dancing in his eyes like a flickering shadow. He feels like a foreboding addiction, one that you can’t give up.

“You’re perhaps the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He compliments, his hand sliding around to stroke the small of your back, his lips just brushing your ear’s shell. “Even better than I imagined.”

Despite the complete filth laced into his speech, his voice somehow contains a tender cadence when he pulls back slightly to murmur against your temple, “now that I know how you taste, I wanna know how you feel, honey. How tight that little pussy is when it’s squeezing around my cock.”

A lightheaded blur emerges from your high, now subsiding, less electric. At the mere thought of Soonyoung pounding you remorselessly into the pillows, your knees begin to wobble and that yearning ache rebuilds itself at your abdomen. To steady yourself, you grip his shoulder, though when you look down, you’re somewhat astounded at the pool of wetness gathered on his floorboards. If just his tongue and fingers could force you to gush, then you wonder how you’ll stay together on his cock.

The trip to his bedroom is all but graceful, rather it’s your legs wrapped snuggly around his waist while his palms splay and squeeze against your ass, your tongues consistently brushing together as you taste yourself from his plump mouth. You had been expecting Soonyoung to just toss you on his bed like an insignificant ragdoll, but to your gratitude, he lays you down gently, spends his next few minutes licking and suckling at your throat. To be marked by him ignites a small grin on your face.

“I want this off, sweetheart,” he demands, tugging at your dress, “do you need help?”

“Yes please. I-I think, with the zipper.” You grunt, reaching behind you to feel the ridges.

After shifting yourself around, Soonyoung stands at the end of the bed, one hand resting on your shoulder blade while the latter undoes the zipper and reveals your back. The little hairs bristle along your skin as you feel a compassionate kiss against the first bump in your spine. Upon helping you slide the fabric down to your waist, Soonyoung’s mouth continues to drift across your shoulder, his hands sliding up your ribs until each hand palms reverently at your breasts. His teeth then dig into a sensitive patch at your neck, giving more vibrance to the low groan that flutters past your lips.

He whispers silkily, “I can’t wait to be inside you, baby. Hm? My good little slut? So beautiful and needy? I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you’re nice and full.”

Your dress lands somewhere at the base of the mattress, and once your heels are unbuckled, they thump against the floor next to it. Soonyoung guides you into the exact position he desires, which entails your chest flush with his grey bedsheets, cheek sinking against his pillow while your ass pokes into the air. Behind you, there’s the rustle of his clothes being removed, prompting you to wriggle your hips in anticipation and whine for his touch to continue grazing your skin.

His slides off his belt without any particular haste. Impatience prickles, and you moan for him.

“M’so wet, Soonyoung. Please, I need you to fuck me, c-can’t wait anymore.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder, examining his firm torso, the muscles smooth and lithe, how he begins shoving his pants down over his hips. It’s antagonizing.

“I know, honey,” he soothes, his black eyes glistening, “you’ve been so patient for me.”

At last, the mattress dips to suggest that Soonyoung is taking his place behind you, to which you can hear the lewd sound of his hand passing up and down his cock, leaking and painfully hard. Despite the sensitivity lingering from your last orgasm, your entire core still throbs in such overwhelming arousal, a sweltering urge to be stretched completely open. He leans over you, pecking your temple.

“Terrible timing,” Soonyoung laughs, his fingers circling below your navel, “but you are on the pill, right? I’d love a child one day, just not at this exact moment.”

“I am.” You smile, though you aren’t sure how entirely bad it would be to bear his child, and you can’t tell if it’s the gin and tonic finally bleeding through your rationality or the viscid lust.

“Perfect.” He hums, his hand gripping onto one side of your hip while he presses his engorged head into your slick. 

At an indulgent pace, Soonyoung drags himself through your slippery folds and rubs at your clit, a satisfied, low rumble emanating from his chest upon a sight so impure, especially as your gloss coats his length, sticky and wet. Your chest heaves largely at his teasing, engendering you to grind back against his body in a desperate hope to have him split you open.

It’s to your absolute pleasure that Soonyoung obliges. He begins pressing his cock in past your opening, your jaw falling slack until he’s digging in as far as he can fit, inducing the delicious stretch that ripples throughout your body. You breathe in raggedly and hiss his name between clenched teeth, fingers curling into the bedsheets once he’s grounded himself enough to start thrusting.

“O-Oh ffuck,” Soonyoung slurs, swallowing tautly, “you’re such a tight little bitch, hm? Just begging for me to ruin this pretty fucking pussy. I’ve waited so long for this, baby. You have no idea.”

He clutches your hips and slams you back onto his cock, grinding himself so deep inside you that the edges of your vision speckle with white dots. While it’s a bit tough for you to admit that your last sexual encounter had been months ago, it only seems to enhance how wonderful each sensation is now, how euphoric it is to feel his length rub against your inner heat and tick all those aching spots that your own fingers fail to prod. Soonyoung shifts onto his one knee, and suddenly he’s striking a newfound depth. You can’t help the loud squeal bursting from your mouth as he bruises your hips.

Suddenly, the boy is reaching for your arm. It’s pinned behind your back, his fingers latched around the wrist while his other hand threads against your scalp.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he growls upon shoving your cheek into the pillow, “scream for me, just like that. Let everyone know how much of a slut you are.”

With an unrelenting pace, he snaps into you, and the obscene noises of your heat sucking in his cock echo endlessly around the bedroom. At this point, you’re completely void of shame. As Soonyoung pounds into you, his hand ironclad around your wrist, your desire to cum warps into a critical essentiality. The tears stream hot and abundant down your face, muddling your makeup.

“H-Harder, Soonyoung! Please! Give it to me harder!”

“Yeah?” The sweat gleams on the column of his neck, black hair tousling before his eyes that shine mercilessly. “My pretty little slut wants it harder? You want me to fucking break you, baby?”

You don’t care if your body cracks in half like a ceramic. The way his cock is pressing consistently and roughly against that pliant, sensitive spot, it’s the only sensation you can feel. Even his fingers helping to smother your cheek against the pillow, damp with your tears and drool, is a sting rather infinitesimal compared to the pleasure. A cold breath expands in your lungs, and you take advantage of it to plead with Soonyoung, your voice falling apart at the seams while you beg to cum.

Unable to deny you, he takes it upon himself to fuck you so hard that the bedframe slaps into the wall. Soonyoung has already adapted to that spot which makes you weep, and he bites his lip harshly while abusing it with the head of cock. Your body immediately attempts to twist itself up as the ecstasy splatters like rain, though Soonyoung uses his grip on your arm and hair to keep you in position, instead forcing you to take the stimulation until you’re erratically clenching around him.

“Right there, honey? Does it feel good when my cock hits you right fuckin’ there? Huh?”

“Fuck, Soonyoung!” Your howl pierces the dense air, and he can tell you’re sobbing. “M’cumming!”

He tosses his head back as you convulse around him, the juices dripping down the back of your thighs while your world momentarily fades. You’re clamping against his cock with such warmth and silk that Soonyoung releases only a minute later, his seed thickly coating the inside of your heat, his length throbbing with every hot spurt. His guttural cursing subsides into laboured breaths. You feel his hands leave your wrist and hair, retreating to their favoured hold on your hips where he manages to deliver a few more thrusts, languid enough for him to watch his cum get pumped back inside you.

Spent in every single manner, you possess only a dying wisp of energy. You whimper and tremble at the vacancy when Soonyoung removes his cock, a feeling you never thought could be this horrible. Not soon after, his cum slowly pools from your opening, trailing down the inside of each thigh, to which he slightly stretches your ass in order to see just how much he’s emptied into you.

“I can’t believe you’re this beautiful,” he sounds mesmerized, “fuck, baby. Just look at you, so full of my cum. I’ve waited so fucking long to see you like this.”

Soonyoung then leans forward, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

“My good little girl. Perfect, aren’t you? Just for me?”

His soft chuckle is somehow a comforting sound, even when your body collapses against his sheets and there’s nothing you’re able to do but nod in agreement. You’re purely exhausted in the afterglow, too tired to even care that his cum is spilling out of you or that you’ve completely deserted your friends at the club. Soonyoung kisses a trail up your back and stops at your shining temple. You can’t tell if he ever joined you in bed or not, though he did stay with you for a few minutes afterward, rubbing your back, brushing his lips over shoulders, a beaming praise whispered every now and then.

You just know you fell asleep smiling.

By the fragile light of morning, you hear Soonyoung’s voice. It doesn’t seem as though he’s beside you or even sitting atop the bed, more like he’s standing somewhere distant. The dimness to the room helps your eyes adjust, and with a low groan you turn your back to the window, snuggling into one of the boy’s cold pillows. When you peek downward, you notice that a decent-sized blue blanket had been strewn across your waist, which you quickly pull further up your body to hide from the cool air. Through the fuzziness, you spot Soonyoung leaning against the doorframe to his washroom.

He’s partially dressed, wearing his black pants while a towel hangs around the back of his neck. The bathroom mirror is smudged with fog and slipping beads of vapour. It isn’t until you hear his quiet voice for the second time that you realize Soonyoung is speaking with someone over the phone. Your eyes fall shut as you attempt to concentrate on snippets of the conversation.

“Fine, we’ll meet at the abandoned hanger off Lake Avenue… Yeah… Just the handgun… Isn’t that too many though?... No, no, not the stash at East End… If he shows up then it’s fucked… That’s what I’m assuming… Okay, sure… Call me back after noon.”

Then, Soonyoung hangs up his phone and slides it with a sigh into his pants pocket. Your eyes open wide again, and you blink a few times to properly clear the sleepy, clinging remnants. Not wanting to overstay your welcome and become a potential hinderance, you slowly shuffle up in his bed, the blue blanket pooling around your hips.

“Did you sleep well?” Soonyoung inquires, tossing the towel from his neck onto the bed.

Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you nod at him. “Yeah, I did,” your voice has yet to lose its monotone rasp, “who were you talking with?”

“Just a friend.” He replies.

Soonyoung walks toward a desk placed across from the bed, picking up a white dress shirt that he slips into. He leaves the front unbuttoned, though he cuffs up the long, flimsy sleeves.

“Hey, do you think I could take a quick bath or something? I promise I won’t be long.”

As he continues to adjust the sleeves, he shrugs. “Yeah, you want me to start it?”

“It’s fine.” You decline politely.

Though the moment you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare to stand, a doubtful inkling has you rethinking that choice. A resounding soreness thumps at your core, the marrow of your hips, yet you pretend that your muscles feel nothing like gelatine and attempt to take your first steps after such a rigorous night. Soonyoung watches in amusement, for your knees immediately begin wobbling while that deep-rooted ache has you buckling to the carpet.

When you look up, cheeks heated from embarrassment, Soonyoung is standing before you baring a fond smile.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He inquires again, folding some black hair behind his ear.

“No,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I need help, please?”

“All you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Soonyoung proceeds to bend down, tucking you carefully against his chest while your arms loop in a secure fashion around his neck. Feeling like a moonstruck bride whose being carried off to her honeymoon, you can’t evade the tiny smile that flits from each corner of your mouth, and it sticks coyly, even when Soonyoung sets you down on the closed toilet in order to run the bath water. You realize you’re going to need your dress, heels, the lace underwear that’d been deserted by his doorway.

Swallowing nervously, you watch as warm water fills the tub.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but do you think you could grab my clothes? A-And I might need to use your phone, since I never took my purse with me last night. My friends are probably worried.”

He stands from the porcelain edge, a laugh rumbling in his chest, “why are you so apologetic?”

“I don’t know,” you quickly shrink into yourself when Soonyoung’s gaze falls over you, hardly as poisonousness compared to the night before, “I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you’re busy, and you just seem like a busy person.”

“And I also fucked you so hard that you can’t even walk.” He reasons lightheartedly, keeping an eye on the bathtub, “I don’t mind, honey. I’ll get your clothes, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

At least if he’s a poison, it’s a sweet one.

“Don’t worry about your friends either,” Soonyoung comments, at last shutting off the faucet while thin steam curls into the air, “One of my guys told them you’d be safe. They know where you are.”

“Really? Thanks.”

He baffles you; he feels mysterious yet personable. You want to ask him what he does for a living, especially upon recounting his earlier phone call, though you dismiss the question when Soonyoung helps you slide into the tub. The hot water works magnificently to relieve the soreness from your muscles, and though it’s a bit uncomfortable to squeeze back into that tight, black dress and the expensive heels, at least you’re able to walk (as long as you keep a hand flush against the wall).

Thankfully, Soonyoung helps you toward the front door of his apartment. A one-night stand has never felt so painful to leave behind, and you’re overwhelmed with poignancy as you wonder why you had never approached him sooner. He announces that there’s a driver stationed out front the Plaza, in a jet-black car you don’t catch the name of, and that you only have to lend him your address.

“He’ll take you home.” Soonyoung assures you.

Already, you find it astonishingly natural to trust him, engendering your hesitance as you stand in the corridor wishing you could somehow stay.

“What if I want to see you again?” You pipe up, catching his gaze.

Your heart is racing, and warmth dapples each arch of your cheek.

Soonyoung steps forward, cupping your face in his palms, his soft mouth pressing to yours while a fragrant, winter mint cuts sharp to your senses.

“You know where to find me, sweetheart.” He responds casually, and smiles as though he knows you’ll come back to him. “See you around.”

✧✎ a/n: i am handing out water bottles down here guys, it’s okay i got you covered! after not writing serious smut for so long, it just FELT SO? BIZARRE? TO TAMPER WITH IT AGAIN. like i remember the times when i could write smut with a straight face and you’d think i was typing my will or something. anywho. I REALLY HOPE IT SATISFIED SOME OF U!! and WHAT DO U THINK THE SECRET AU IS HEHEHEH

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 4

Slightly late for @marichatmay day 4, yesterday was kind of a long day and this chapter just kept getting longer. Oops. Ft. real cats, and a nod to Star Wars day (belated May the Fourth be with you). Enjoy!

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Chapter 4: In which the flirting continues and an attempt to break up is thwarted. Again.

Marinette almost turned around the moment she saw Chat Noir standing next to the café, looking at the cats on the other side of the window.

Well, had it just been her partner, she would have walked straight up to him without a second thought, and diligently sat through their date, only to apologise at the end of it, saying that she’d fallen in love with an image, and that she didn’t think they belonged together.

What (for ‘who’ was a little presumptuous a pronoun) stood in front of her was a figure in a cardboard rendering of Chat Noir’s suit, complete with paper bell, tail, and cardboard baton. She would have forgiven its use as a disguise, even though the details kind of defeated the purpose, had the reflection of the headpiece’s eye hole not revealed that he was actually transformed underneath.

Nope , she thought at the sight. Can’t do this, nope, nope, nop-

“Marinette!” Chat Noir spotted her just as she was about to leave, and started enthusiastically waving at her.

She plastered a smile on her face, and clutched her purse as she made her way towards him. Kwami, give me strength . She wondered if ridicule was a good enough excuse to break up with someone. It wasn’t very nice, but she was getting desperate for an excuse.

“Cardboard Noir, I presume?” Her voice had an exasperated edge to it, which Chat didn’t pick up on.

“The one and only!” He twirled around to give her the full 360° view of the costume. She could tell that he was grinning under the helmet.

“To what do I owe the… pleasure?”

“Anonymity, obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t want this date to finish in the tabloids, am I right?”

Sure, because somebody in a piece of cardboard is so much more inconspicuous than somebody who might be wearing a Chat Noir cosplay in a cat café , she rolled her eyes as she saw people passing by and doing double takes as they walked past him, but kept her point to herself.

“How... thoughtful of you.” She smiled slightly tensely.

“Isn’t it?” Chat Noir extended his kraft paper-covered arm and she took it awkwardly for the couple of steps that separated them from the café’s door.

Chat hurried forward to open the door for her. “After you, my… Princess.” He bowed.

She bit back a smug smile as the bells jingled above her head. The nickname "my Lady" would totally have been justified in this situation, yet he’d refrained from using it. She deduced that it must be too attached to Ladybug; maybe there was hope that he still had a crush on her alter ego. She could work with that.

She walked into the shop, and almost tripped on an orange tabby cat who’d apparently been making the most of the sunspot on the other side of the door. It looked up at her indignantly even as she petted him to apologise, but didn’t move.

Behind her, a grey sphynx tried to make a run for it, but Chat picked it up and closed the door before he could cross the threshold.

“Hi there! Welcome to the C afé des Chats . How can I help you today?” A woman emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on her cat-themed apron. Her name, Cathy, was embroidered on it.

“Hello! Could we get a table for two, please?” Marinette smiled.

“Of course! Pick a spot!”

Marinette looked around the room. Apart from a small group of friends sitting near the window, and who were too engrossed in laughing and taking pictures of the cats to acknowledge their presence, all the seats were empty.

“How about that table over there?” Chat leaned towards her ear and pointed towards a cozy booth at the back of the room. She jumped slightly at the sudden proximity. He didn’t notice, as the cat in his arms started meowing, and Cathy came out from behind the counter to take it in her arms.

“Oh, let me take Yoda off your hands. Did he try running away again?” She cradled him, the cat purring as she did.

“Yes, I feel like he might take after his namesake and like the outdoors more.” Chat joked.

“Maybe I should have picked another name for him, then. It would save me a lot of time looking for him around the neighborhood.” Cathy laughed. “I’ll let you two get installed, I’ll be right with you.”

The pair made their way towards their table, Chat letting Marinette take the couch while he pulled out the chair facing her. He sat on the very edge of his seat, the cardboard taking up most of the space. They both picked up the menu, and ordered their drinks (and a lightsaber-themed pistachio éclair for Chat), when Cathy came around.

Marinette tapped her fingers together as they waited, trying to find a conversation topic. She decided to acknowledge the smaller elephant in the room.

“You know, I think we’re okay now, you can take off your costume.” Marinette pointed out. He looked like he could fall off his chair at any moment.

“Are you ashamed of me?” His hand flew to his chest, almost knocking his paper bell off.

“Me? Never!” she scoffed.

“Good, because this isn’t coming off anytime soon.” Chat Noir crossed his arms over his chest. She could tell he was smirking under his headpiece.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” It was Marinette’s turn to smirk, as Cathy arrived and put down two cups of hot chocolate, and Chat’s pâtisserie, in front of them.

“Is that a challenge?” Chat’s eyebrow shot up, and he turned towards Cathy. “Excuse me, Ma’am, would you happen to have a straw I could use?”

The lady blinked at him a couple of times, perplexed, before realising he was serious. “I probably do, let me go check in the pantry.”

“You’re not seriously doing this.” Marinette facepalmed.

“I’m just showing the one thing you should know about me if you want to date me; I don’t back down from challenges.” He thanked Cathy, who’d returned, and started poking a hole in his headset.

Trust me, I know that , Marinette sighed. “I take it back. It’s not a challenge. Just take your… mask off, and enjoy your order. Please?”

Chat Noir squinted at her suspiciously. “You pawmise that you’re fine with this?”

“Absolutely. I just want you to be more comfortable.”

“Fine.” He took off his headpiece, making his hair stick up from static electricity.

Marinette stifled a giggle.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat, pulled her phone out and snapped a picture, before showing the screen to him. “I just like what you did to your hair.”

“Ah, yes. Beautiful,” her partner laughed. “I wonder what Gabriel Agreste would think about it.”

“I actually think he’d love it. It kind of looks like his haircut.” Marinette snorted.

“Yeah, that won’t do.” Some colour drained from his cheeks as he shook his head and tried to flatten his hair. The real bell under his costume jingled as he did so.

Marinette was about to ask why he seemed so upset about the comparison when a black cat jumped up on their table, looking at Chat’s éclair with interest.

“Hey, Chat Noir? Looks like you have some competition for your tea…” She took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed happily as the rich aroma hit her taste buds.

“What?” He stopped wiggling around, his hair having regained its normal appearance. “Oh. No, no, kitty, this isn’t for you.” He slid the plate away from it. The cat tilted its head and meowed. “Being all cute won’t work on me, I’m cuter. Meow .”

“Hmm, I’m not sure about that.” Marinette stroked the cat’s head, making it walk towards her and purr. “This one is pretty adorable. Pincushion,” she read off its tag. “How original.”

“You’re not even saying it’s a claw-se call? You wound me, Marinette.” Chat gasped, before taking a bite of his éclair. “You know, I’m not sure I could be with someone who doesn’t think I’m cute.”

Marinette rolled her eyes affectionately. “Kitty, I think you know very well what I think,” she replied, putting a hand over his on the table. He gulped down the rest of his éclair, and stared into her eyes.

Pincushion meowed again after what she knew was too long for friends to gaze at each other, and Marinette jolted, feeling herself blush. Why had she done that? She should have just gone with it, it would have made everything easier. You know, Chat Noir, I definitely don’t think you’re cute. Let’s get the bill and be on our way…

Chat Noir cleared his throat, and waved towards Cathy. “Well, this was nice, but it’s getting a little late, isn’t it? Could I have the bill, please?”

“Yes, you’re right, we should probably get going… Wait a second, what do you mean could I have the bill? We’re splitting this.”

“No we’re not. I ordered the most.” Chat shot her a pointed look.

“Fine, then let me pay for my own drink, then.”

“Meow way! I invited you! I meant it when I said my treat!”

“Yes, but…” Marinette scrambled for an excuse, cursing her brain which had decided to notice that Chat’s cheeks seemed quite pink, and that she thought it looked good on him, especially combined to his slightly dishevelled hair.

“I’ll tell you what; if you really think I don’t owe you anything, then just consider this an advance for my birthday. You can pay me back in macarons.” Chat’s eyes lit up hungrily as he interrupted her.

“Your birthday?” Marinette tilted her head quizzically. “Is that soon?”

Chat froze in his seat. Ladybug had warned him about this. They weren’t supposed to share anything about their personal lives, with anyone. Just in case it landed in the wrong ears.

Besides, his birthday wasn’t until September. Which, since he’d invited her on this date, she could interpret as him thinking their relationship would last that long. Which he really hoped it wouldn’t (the romantic one, that is - he still wanted to be friends with Marinette behind the mask).

“Erm, yeah, it’s… Next week?” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. That seemed alright in terms of timeline.

“So soon…” Marinette trailed off, looking at the empty cup before her. Her partner’s birthday seemed like something she should know, yet as much as she raked her brain, she couldn’t recall a single conversation they’d had on the topic. “Does Ladybug know?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want her to make a fuss.” He waved her concern away, and swiftly stole the credit card machine from Cathy as she returned with it. He tapped his card on it, looking Marinette straight in the eye as he did.

“Chat Noir!” She cried out indignantly. She’d been too engrossed in the consideration that she couldn’t decently break up with him now when his birthday was just around the corner, to anticipate his next move.

“Sorry, Princess.” He smiled smugly as he thanked the café owner and took his receipt. “In my defence, it makes me feel better about eating so much when I came over to your place for lunch, when I’d only brought a flower as a present.”

Marinette held his gaze for a bit, and, seeing his earnestness, she sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, and then turned towards Cathy, who was awkwardly shuffling next to their table.

“Is everything alright, Ma’am?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude, but… are you really Chat Noir?” She asked hopefully.

“See, the costume is inconspicuous!” Chat Noir exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at Marinette. “I mean, yes, I am.”

“I’d totally understand if you said no, but would you mind taking a picture with some of the cats? I’m happy to keep it to myself, and not put it up with the other cat pictures if you’d prefer, it’s just that I’m such a huge fan…”

“I’d love to!” Chat Noir jumped to his feet and started peeling his disguise off. “Would it be okay if my… Marinette was in the picture with me?” He winced at the formulation of his question. He wasn’t sure if it was worse than if he’d called her his girlfriend.

“Yes, of course! Here, let me grab Yoda, and maybe Pincushion and…”

Marinette didn’t have time to explore the warm feeling Chat calling her “his” Marinette, in a very excited and pure way, had elicited in her chest, as Cathy shoved a cat in her arms and pushed Chat next to her on the couch. She grinned for the photographer, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Purr-fect!” Chat beamed as Cathy showed them the picture.

She melted a little at how happy he looked, chatting away to figure out a way to get a copy of the picture. I can’t hurt him, not now , she thought as she nodded along and gave her number to Cathy so she could send her the shot.

What she could do, though, was try to figure out a birthday present for him. Something useful, that he’d be able to keep when she broke up with him after they broke up, probably a week after she gave it to him.

She thought about it all the way Home.

[byunbaekby]

You Are: Loved (l.dh)

Pairing: Haechan x Gender Neutral Reader Summary: In a world where the things people say about you show up on your skin, you become both intrigued and apprehensive when your skin tells you that someone loves you. Warnings: Mentions of depression, self-harm (please do NOT read if you are sensitive to self-harm. I tried to keep it as toned down as possible, without using descriptive words or actions as it is essential to the theme.) Word Count: 5.3k

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You stare at him from across the hallway.

Lee Donghyuck.

He is the epitome of perfect as you know it—dark brown hair, barely brushing his bright expressive eyes often upturned into a smile on the canvas of his honey tanned skin like sand on a burning summer’s day. The resident class clown, you often hear him in the hallways before you see him, for he’s quite notorious for his jokes and boisterous laughter. For such an easy-going guy, you’d expect that he’d slack somewhere in the fashion department but no, his outfits were always put-together and flattering to his figure. 

It makes you question, is there anything wrong with him?

His greatness is not just to your eyes either. The proof of it is written on his skin. The words which others use to describe him, in the all-knowing universe where the gossip of others becomes proof on your skin; friendly, handsome, generous, funny, talented, popular. They slide up from underneath his shirt onto his neck, make themselves known across his arms. Those are just a small number of the words that decorate his skin, large and visible even from your distance across the hall. 

Lee Donghyuck is a superior human being in all forms. 

So, when you heard from Renjun, the closest person you could call a friend, that he had overheard Lee Donghyuck saying he loved you, you of all people, your first instinct was to think that Renjun was joking. Playing a prank on you. It wouldn’t be the first time someone at school decided to mess with you, the endlessly new student. 

But then the word came.

On your skin, you discovered it after a shower one day when you were staring at yourself in the mirror, at the cuts from your own hand that decorate your body. 

Loved.

Your skin told you that you are loved. This meant that someone, out there in the endless infinity of the world, had spoken into existence that they love you. 

It was small, barely noticeable on the stomach sandwiched between Well-behaved and the largest of them all, Unwanted. But you found it nonetheless, and immediately your mind flickered back to your friend’s words. 

Lee Donghyuck.

There was no way. 

It was definitely a joke; you could already hear him tossing it back and forth in cruel joking between him and his friends, followed by grating guffaws against you. 

But no, Lee Donghyuck was not like that. He was not cruel enough to throw an unwilling soul into that of his comedic tendencies. You had only spoken a few times in passing, in classes that you shared, yet you felt that it was clear enough to see that though playful, Lee Donghyuck was benevolent in all forms of the word. 

So you plan to confront him.

As soon as the warning bell sounds, sending all of Donghyuck’s friends away from their formed circle of laughter, you move. Donghyuck as well begins to leave, about to head out for his next class but you’re quicker, you’re already behind him and pulling on his backpack by the time he has turned to leave. 

You pull him back, holding him by the backpack in a sea of people. 

“Woah,” he sounds, before his eyes find you and in turn, light up. You hate it; he’s so cheerful, welcoming all the time and with the way he gazes at you you can almost believe the notion that he loves you. 

“Oh, hi Y/N,” he beams, a bright smile on his tiers. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is,” you begin, releasing his backpack to cross your arms across your chest whilst trying your best to look annoyed. “I don’t know what game you’re playing but I want you to stop.” Because it gives you hope, and that is the last thing you need. 

The confusion is evident on his face as he blinks at you. “What.. do you mean?”

“You don’t love me.”

A sheet of realization falls over his features, and his eyes soften. A gentle smile, almost amused smile makes home across his lips. “But I do.”

The ease with which he comes to this response only causes you to further your brows even further. You had, upon learning of his “feelings” toward you, thought it to be a complete joke or ruse but now as you observe the way he stares down at you, with the typical lighthearted eyes of his, you begin to fear that they are genuine. 

It’s absolutely insane. 

“We’ve only talked to each other like, twice. You can’t love someone you don’t know,” you argue.

“But I do know you. I know your name, Y/N, I know your age considering we’re in the same grade, I know that you’re currently in foster care and you’re staying with Jisung’s family. I know that you don’t really stay in the same place for more than a couple months which is why you mostly stick to yourself. To avoid getting hurt when you inevitably have to leave. I know that you like painting, and I’ve deduced that you’re most likely just trying to avoid getting adopted by anyone for another year until you turn eighteen.”

You stare, silent and speechless.

“I know all these things from the few times we’ve talked, I’ve figured these things out from the comments that Jisung shares about you occasionally, I’ve learned these things by watching you. And I’ve come to love you because—” you purse your lips in distaste unconsciously at the idea of love, of him loving you, once again. “—I see that you’re strong. I see it in the way you hold yourself, the way you live your life.” 

He’s wrong. He doesn’t know you, he can’t. He thinks that he does, that he has you figured out because of this little crush he’s harbored on you over the two months you’ve been in this town, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know that you’re unlovable. 

“You don’t even know what love is,” you spite at him bitterly, feeling your walls rise taller, if even possible. “But I do. I learned it, because of you,” he speaks earnestly, the idea of being late to class not a bother to him. “You’re seventeen.”

“There’s no age limit on love.” 

He’s naive. Love is not adoration or obsession or the excessive attention that you have failed to notice from him until now. Lee Donghyuck is too kind, and nowhere near close to knowing what love is.

His words leave you speechless—speechless that someone could be so thoughtless, so careless and willing to throw themselves into the abyss that is blind love. The final bell rings, signalling that class has started and you’re both now late to class. 

With no words left to say, only indignation and frustration in your stomach, you brush past him with a sigh. “Leave me alone, Lee Donghyuck.”

Though you don’t look back, you can feel his eyes on you, and can almost visualize them burning into your back, kind as always but uncharacteristically glazed with worry. 

-

You can’t really recall when it started. 

It was definitely sometime in your early years of secondary school, when the image of the words on your skin became too much for your psych to handle. 

The act wasn’t fueled by anger, or a desire to cause pain upon yourself, but rather a need for an ability to counterattack the words which mocked you. So you took the blade, and crossed them out.

Unwanted—because since you had been placed into the foster system at age seven, no family ever wanted to adopt you. The words were sprung from hate and gossip from others, who observed that you would never be able to find a place. Perhaps they also stemmed from your mind itself, in which you too began to believe that you were unwanted anywhere.

Well-behaved—because though you were well-behaved, always doing your schoolwork and abiding by any rules set by your temporary foster parents, you were never affectionate. You showed little personality to them, and they couldn’t form bonds to you. Thus, whenever your few months’ time ended, they always commented that you were well-behaved, but not what they needed in their family.

Strange—because no one had taken the initiative to get to know you, to learn you beyond the label you held of being the new kid. Not that you had given them an opening or chance to, anyways.

Alone—because you spent most of your time to yourself. This one you didn’t mind as much. Even though Park Jisung was one of the more welcoming foster siblings, claiming that he that had an insight to your perspective because he too had been in your position until he had been adopted by your current foster family, you refused to allow your interactions with him to grow beyond small talk over dinner and quiet rides to school. 

There are more words, currently crossed out and blurred by scars across your body, but those were the first. 

Now, as you stand in front of the mirror in the Park household bathroom, you cross out the one tiny word that Lee Donghyuck had gifted you, and watch with a slight wince as red begins to cover its existence. 

-

The next time you speak to him again, he has pulled you aside much like you did to him. 

A week has passed, exactly seven days, and you think that Lee Donghyuck must have some sort of compulsion because he speaks, “I thought about it for exactly seven days.”

It?

“And you’re right. I can’t love someone that I don’t know.” Finally, you think. He has come to his senses. The idea of someone harboring such romantic feelings for you, however naive and misplaced, has worried you for the past week. 

“Which is why I’m going to get to know you.”

You blink, dumbfounded. “That’s the exact opposite of what I told you to do,” you chastise, crossing your arms across your chest once again. He notices, and reaches out to touch you, pulling your arms from your chest. At his unexpected and unwelcome touch, you nearly slap his hands away. 

“I want to get close to you. Not to date you, or anything. I don’t need that. I just want to be your friend.”

“No.” 

He doesn’t seem fazed by your abrupt answer. “You said that I can’t possibly love you because I don’t know you, so give me the chance to.” 

No, you retort quietly in your head. He can’t possibly love you because you don’t want to be loved, because you can’t be loved. You can’t allow yourself to form such connections to people, only to leave. You can’t be loved, you’re not a whole person, just a shell. 

But you don’t tell him this. Instead, like a coward, you pivot. “You’re not going to get the chance, Lee. So listen to what I say, and leave me alone.” 

Like your first encounter, you turn and walk away. You don’t catch the disappointment in Donghyuck’s eyes, which are normally bright and full of laughter. 

It hurts, loving someone who doesn't love themself. 

-

You find that you enjoy art, especially painting, because you enjoy drawing a different reality than the one that currently houses you. 

One of the positive things about your temporary home with the Parks is that Neo Culture High School has an amazing art studio, open to students at all hours. So, more often than not, you find yourself in the studio for hours.

It had given a slight sense of pride, seeing the word Talented appear on your skin, just under your ribs. It was likely the first positive word to be marked onto you that had no negative connotations in your life. However small, it reaffirmed the fact that you had worth.

It was through your constant visits to the studio that you met Huang Renjun, a Chinese exchange student who planned on attending the top arts school in South Korean upon your graduation. He too felt like an outcast, though he was much more approachable than you. You have formed some kind of friendship, if painting together while sharing stories is your closest value of friendship. Yet you still refuse to call it a friendship. It is a work partnership. 

You think it’s Renjun who enters the room when you register the sound of the door opening around 4PM on a Friday afternoon as you’re hard at work on a new piece. 

“Hey, Jun. What do you think about this piece? I was thinking something along the lines of a city skyline,” you muse, back to the door as you continue your work. Renjun is always honest about your work, so you value his opinion.

Then you hear Lee Donghyuck’s trademark lilted tone behind you. 

“I think it’s beautiful.”

You whip around in a millisecond, your once soft tone replaced by one of disregard. “What are you doing here, Lee?”

“Just enjoying the open studio on a Friday afternoon.”

You frown, turning your attention back to the canvas before you as he pulls up a stool and seats himself near you, eyes on your painting. He’s right, you cannot ask him to leave because the studio is an amenity to the school.

So you simply keep painting, and ignore his presence as best as you can. 

This continues for weeks. On all days after school except Tuesdays and Thursdays, Lee Donghyuck visits you in the art classroom and simply sits there, watching you paint until the clock strikes seven. Then he walks the two of you out to the front of the school in silence. 

Everyday he offers you a ride home, but you reject him. You prefer walking home. 

At first, he just sat there, watching you with careful yet entertained eyes as you transformed blank canvases into art. Then, after a while of sitting in silence, the talkative Lee Donghyuck could take no more and began to talk. He filled the rooms with stories of his life, while you painted and pretended not to listen.

Some days he talks more about his feelings for you. Not in an overbearing way, of course, for he has begun to sense your discomfort with such a topic. But rather, he talks about his revelations for his supposed love for you as though you were a different person. 

It becomes a bit more bearable, when he discusses his admiration for the strong person he knows through school rather than you specifically. If you allow yourself to believe that he isn’t talking about you, you find yourself listening more easily.

He doesn’t once again say that he loves you. Instead, he talks about the things he loves about you. The name doesn’t leave his lips but you know it is for you. He speaks highly of your intelligence, and the headstrong way with which you carry yourself; of the passion you hold in every stroke; of the way you try to protect yourself by ignoring others. 

Though your name is never uttered, soon the words Strong and Passionate appear on the canvas of your skin on your inner thigh, because Donghyuck has you in his mind. 

It is then you begin to think that Lee Donghyuck knows you too well despite you giving nothing to him, and that scares you.

It scares you to think that you can be so easily read, like the ugly words on your skin. As much as you attempt to cover them with long sleeves, you have to roll them up to paint. 

The only time Donghyuck mentions the phonetics of these words is when he goes on a slight rampage. He hates the world you live in, and this comes as a quiet surprise to you, for you thought that the lighthearted Lee Donghyuck could not hate anything in his life.

“It’s so stupid,” he spits out, tapping his feet frustratingly on the floor as he sits in his familiar stool. Unbeknownst to you, he had overheard someone calling you strange again. A socially awkward weirdo with no place in the world, had been the exact words. It had filled him with rage. “We live in a society where people can judge you based on the judgements that others have already made. It’s so.. messed up. Who cares what people say? Do the words that other people have muttered about me matter more than what that one person can discover for themselves?”

You don’t say anything, keeping your eyes trained on the canvas as you paint, but you think silently to yourself that it’s quite hypocritical of him to complain as such, seeing as his skin is decorated with the most positive of words. 

He addresses this next, though. “Look at me. I have these meaningless words on my skin, but just because someone else calls me nice doesn’t mean I am. It’s almost like I can’t be rude, I can’t yell at someone for messing up my order, I can’t be a normal person with normal reactions. It’s like I have to uphold certain expectations that people have of me.” 

You’re about to roll your eyes, because what a burden it is for people to think that you’re amazing and kind, but then he continues. 

“And, people avoid others because their words say they’re, what, strange? Who cares? Who am I to assume that someone who is weird in the eyes of another, will be weird to me?” 

A frown perches on your lips. You are strange, that is what your skin tells you. And Donghyuck has chosen for himself to disregard the words of others to deduce his own perception of you. 

“Someone could be my soulmate, but I would avoid them because the universe and its people have labeled them as a freak, or crazy, or rude, or—” he cuts himself off, because he begins to get too passionate over the idea of it. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he retreats, knowing by now how you get when he begins to raise his voice, however in good intention.

You speak up. Your voice is dry, because you rarely converse with him on these days when he visits you. 

“Some might consider it natural selection.” 

If he’s shocked at your sudden comment, he doesn’t show it. “That makes no sense.”

But to you, it does. Some people aren’t meant to lead great lives, where they fall in love and die surrounded by people who will always remember them. Some people are meant to lead mediocre lives, where people avoid them because of their labels. You might consider yourself one of them. 

Donghyuck shuts this idea down right away, shaking his head with so much fervor that his dark hair shakes. His voice is soft when he speaks. “No, it’s not natural selection. You can believe that but I don’t. Because everyone deserves to love and be loved at some point in their life. Not everyone gets that, if people only see them for the labels on their skin.” 

To love and be loved. 

It has never occurred to you before that it is an essential part of life. 

Later that day, when you take your normal exit from the studio and Donghyuck, as he always does, offers you a ride home in his rundown truck, you accept. 

-

In the following weeks, the word on your skin grows and moves. 

At first it had been sandwiched the two words you hated most. Then it moved. All that remained in the space it once occupied was the scar of the cut you had imposed upon it, except now there was no word to be crossed out.

You had noticed its absence immediately after a shower one day, and for a millisecond you feared what that meant. Had Donghyuck’s love for you disappeared, as did the word?

But no, you found it soon later on the curve of your hip, bigger this time. It had needed more space, because Donghyuck’s love for you had grown.

This leads you to believe that though he never uttered such words in your presence, he was still saying it to himself. He didn’t need you to hear it, but you knew. 

This time, you don’t cross it out. 

-

Your time with Lee Donghyuck, the golden boy of Neo Culture High, begins to extend beyond the art classroom. 

He begins to give you rides home. Sometimes he searches for you when he has something on his mind. On occasions when you find yourself feeling especially empty, you visit the convenience store he part-times at under the guise of needing snacks or paper or any other excuse you can make.

Excuses, because you can’t let him know that you actually miss him when he’s not around. Miss his presence, miss the way he lets you be yourself. Unlike you had expected, Donghyuck accepted you for your quiet self. 

You had thought originally that he had expected you to open up at one point, to let him in. But you didn’t, because that wasn’t you. He knew this without asking, and accepted it. As popular as he was, he never forced you into a situation you didn’t want to be in with people you didn’t want to talk to. 

He, like you, was perfectly content filling the silence between you, for he talked way too much and you talked way too little. 

That is why, one Friday when he drops you off at the Park residence after your usual time in the studio, you lean forward in the car and kiss him. 

It is your first kiss, and no words are enough to explain the way you feel when you finally give in to him, to yourself and admit that you wanted to indulge in this feeling a little while longer. 

So you give no words, and leave his car. He wordlessly smiles after you, and drives off.

-

The danger in this is that you begin to accept his wordless proclamations of love. 

Days spent in the art studio once characterized by silence are now peppered with quick kisses and shared banter. Short rides home begin to turn into aimless driving around the city as an excuse for more time together. 

It should scare you, but it doesn’t. 

To love and be loved. His words from that one day remain clear in your mind. Is it love?

The first time you feel the lick of panic in your heart is when he says it.

You are sitting underneath a tree atop the hill that overlooks the tiny town. A sketchbook in your hand, you are working on monotonous drawing of a nearby flower. Donghyuck watches, as he always does. 

Then he says it.

“I love you.” 

You knew it already, as proof of his love already existed on your skin. Yet when he speaks it into existence, it crosses a line. You have yet to say the words to him, and though you could scream at yourself to admit it, the words never leave your tongue. 

Panic begins to sink into you, hollowing out your chest as your heart drops into your stomach. What if you can’t say it back because you don’t love him? Because you are incapable of love, as you had long convinced yourself of many years ago when you found yourself indifferent to the idea of being adopted. 

You had tried for months to ignore the timeline that was ultimately against you, choosing to believe that you could exist in a world with Donghyuck for as long as you chose. 

Your time with the Parks was coming to an end in a matter of weeks, and you were almost sure that they would not adopt you. For the first time in your life, did you want to be adopted? 

No. Freedom was so close, only six months short of your eighteenth birthday when you could be promised liberation. 

It only occurs to you now that you cannot choose Donghyuck over your goals. This realization fills you with a heavy dread, and you feel like crying. In fact, tears sting at your eyes as you slam your sketchbook closed and Donghyuck watches you with wide eyes. 

Fleetingly he wonders if he had been wrong. Wrong in assuming that you were ready to hear such words. 

You stand, rising to your feet. Then you walk away. 

And of all the times that he has watched walk away up to now, this hurts the most.

-

You love him.

You love him so much that it consumes your entire being. You love him so much that even though you avoid him for days, you cannot paint anymore, for the pungent scent of such colored varnish only reminds you of him. 

You love him so much that you hadn’t even realized when your art had turned into him. Donghyuck on a stool, watching you. Donghyuck down the hall, mouth open as he’s caught in a familiar boisterous laugh. Donghyuck kissing you while his hair falls over his eyes.

You love him so much that when you realize it, at near three in the morning, you break into cries and sobs. In the early hours of the morning, you turn on the shower and mute your sobs with the sound of water hitting your skin.

When you emerge, you stare at your bare body in the mirror and gaze at the word that decorates the expanse of your hip. These days, it seems to be the only word that matters. 

As much as you despite its existence, as much pain as it has brought you, you don’t feel the desire to erase it from your skin. So you throw your razor away, and take the trash out as the sun begins to rise. 

-

When the Parks tell you that they have made the decision not to permanently welcome you into their family, you are numb.

Jisung sits at the opposite end of the table, looking apologetic. Mr. Park opens his mouth.

“It’s not that we don’t like you, Y/N. You are very respectful and well-behaved.” There it is again. You have come to hate that word. “But we have come to find that we cannot support another child. We hope that you find a family to accept you and love you, even if it’s not ours.”

Mrs. Park’s voice follows next, and you offer a tight-lipped smile as she speaks cautiously. “We really have enjoyed having you here for the past six months. Feel free to reach out to us, whenever you need something.” 

“Of course,” you tell them politely, though you highly doubt you ever will. This place has too many memories that you no longer want. “Thank you for everything you have given me.”

You say it to every family you have stayed with but you truly mean it this time. 

-

The weekend you are due to leave, you visit Donghyuck.

You have only been to his house a few times in the past, and finding your way there on foot in the dark past midnight is even harder. At first, you had avoided him, going so far as to stop visiting the studio out of your dedication to ignoring him.

Then he had stopped searching for you. 

You had thought that meant that he had given up, but then the word on your hip began to grow and grow with every passing day, until it went from being a tiny script to occupying almost your entire hip. 

He still loved you, even as you gave him reason after reason not to.

You began to suspect that this love he had for you was not the result of naive adoration or the desire to get to know you, as you had thought originally. No, the love he holds for you is deeper than he ever let on and deeper than you had ever allowed him to show. 

So, when it nears 1AM and you find yourself tossing rocks at his window, he opens up to no surprise. 

At first, he just holds you in his bed in the darkness. He doesn’t ask for an explanation, rather he gives one himself.

“When I first saw you, I knew you were different from what your words told the world. I felt like… you were unwanted because you didn’t want people to want you. You were alone because you preferred it. I knew you were a strong person because of the way you carried yourself.” The image of the word Strong on your inner thigh flickers in your mind. It had been inflicted by him, and now he says it aloud to you. 

“I used to lay awake at night, whispering in bed to myself that I loved you. Because I wanted you to know that someone in the world loved you.” 

You close your eyes from where you lay with your head on his chest, because you begin to feel tears well. But he continues. “I guess somewhere along the way I really did fall in love with you. And I’ll continue to love you, to make sure you know you’re loved.”

It is a promise, a promise lost on his lips as you lean up and kiss him for the first time that night. 

Until morning comes, he discovers you for all that you are. When he slips off your shirt and sees the scars, imposed upon your skin as a means of blurring the inevitable words that mark it, he kisses them. 

You had always seen Lee Donghyuck as a boy of laughter and jokes, but he does not laugh at all that night as he brushes away your fears and insecurities. 

When you wake, you dress and leave with silent tears. 

Your social worker picks you up the next day, and you leave the town for the next though your heart stays in Lee Donghyuck’s bedroom. 

-

The next six months in a new city go by quickly.

Before you know it you are eighteen, and free from the system that has made you a lonely victim for eleven years. You move to Seoul, the big city, and freelance as a painter. 

Soon, you can afford your own place. You buy yourself a phone and find yourself wanting to contact Donghyuck though you have no idea how to. 

As you suffer through the hungry artist life, the years pass before your eyes. 

You fall in love again, with many people. You think it is due to Donghyuck’s presence in your life that you can. 

You think about him often. Even as the years go by and you never return to that small town again, he occupies your thoughts. You wonder how he is doing, what he is doing, if he is in love. If he has found someone for him that can love him the way you couldn’t. You’re not sure even now if you are capable of loving yourself, but love exists in your life, thanks to Donghyuck.

He has taught you love. Occasionally you reflect upon the person you used to be, that fearful person who confronted Lee Donghyuck from across the school hallway because you thought that him loving you was a joke. It is because of him that you have grown. 

True to his words even after you have left him high and dry, Donghyuck keeps his promise.

Though time passes by, the word inked into your skin upon the expanse of your hip does not shrink in size. It does not disappear, as you thought it would when he would eventually stop missing you. For years the universe continues to tell you that you are on his mind, and your heart warms at the idea of Lee Donghyuck laying in bed somewhere in the world, whispering to himself that he loves you for the sake of reminding you that you are loved. 

[criminallyfanatic]

secrets and lies

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N haven’t seen each other since Y/N mysteriously dropped out of Law School right before finals. 16 years later and the meet again as she joins his team at the BAU. Will Aaron finally find out why she left? (set around season 6 time) 

aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings: some swearing and mentions of murder, just your usual criminal minds antics 

a/n - I haven’t written in so long so apologise if it’s not great :) also I have no idea how law school in America works so apologise for any inconsistencies there 

                                                                *

“You have an excellent record Agent (Y/L/N), the BAU would be lucky to have you.” 

She scanned over your file one last time before settling it on her desk, turning her eyes to you. 

“I’m grateful for the opportunity maam” her eyes seemed to stare through you, sizing you up and you shifted slightly in your seat. 

“Good. I’m sure you’ll fit right in, with such an impressive history. You’ll start with Agent Hotchner’s team monday morning.” 

One mention of his name and it felt like your heart stopped. No, this had to be some sort of mistake. 

“Is something wrong, Agent (Y/L/N)?” Her brows furrowed in concern, no doubt noticing the sudden tension that seemed to fill your whole body.

“No, it’s just … when I applied for this job I was told I would be placed on Agent Walters team maam.” please let it be a mistake. Please. 

“I’m afraid you were misinformed. This position is on Agent Hotchner's team. Will that be a problem for you?” 

YES 

“No, not at all. Thank you so much, for this opportunity.” 

FUCK

                                                               *

Just open the door. It’s simple. Just push the door open and walk in. He’s probably not even here. And if he is, he probably wouldn’t even recognise you. Or even remember you. Yeah … 

Fuck 

“Hi!” you jump as someone taps your shoulder, clutching your chest as your heart thunders against it “Oh my god i’m so sorry!” 

You turn, coming face to face with quite possibly the most vibrant woman you have ever met. She offers you a tentative smile, her eyes full of concern, scanning your face for any sign of anger or fear. 

“I’m so sorry,” she reaches out a hand and lays it on your shoulder, “are you alright?” 

“Yes. Sorry. Lost in my own head.” 

She appears relieved, happy she didn’t cause any permanent damage. 

‘Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia” She reaches out a hand for you to shake, her smile returning tenfold. It almost seems to emanate light, like she makes everything around her shine. It was infectious, and you soon found yourself with a similar smile on your face, all awkwardness forgotten 

“Y/N Y/L/N” 

Her eyes seem to triple in size at the mention of your name, her grip on your hand tightening. 

“Oh my gosh you’re the new agent! I just saw your name come through on the system. It’s so great to meet you. I’m Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst,” She’s shaking your hand again, this time quite vigorously, “Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the team.” taking the hand she was shaking she now leads you through the impenetrable glass doors and into the bullpen. 

“Guy, come meet (Y/N)!” with her free hand she waves at a group of agents all huddled around one person's desk. At her call they all turn to look at you, and all of a sudden the anxiety of meeting new people suddenly overwhelms the fear of meeting an old friend. “She’s the newest addition to our wonderful team.” 

Quite suddenly you're enveloped by a swarm of agents, all introducing themselves to you, asking you about your past, your family, your life. And it’s nice. Overwhelming, but nice. They’re all so friendly, and you can tell they’re all so close. Like a family. It puts you at ease and soon you’re laughing along with them. 

“Have I missed a memo or something?” 

The voice comes from behind you, and it feels like someone is pouring a bucket of ice cold water down your back. You feel the tension come flooding back and you daren’t turn around. 

“Hotch, have you met the agent joining our team?” 

Everyone is staring at you, expectant. Your move. 

Just turn around. Get it over with. Like ripping off a plaster.

You can feel his eyes on you, burning holes into your back. JUST TURN AROUND

You turn around. 

“Hey Aaron.” 

                                                                 *

You could practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads. 

You knew Hotch? How did you know Hotch? HOTCH HAD A LIFE BEFORE THE BAU? 

You drowned them out, focusing entirely on Aaron. For a moment, you could see every emotion on his face, written plainly for you to read. The fear, the surprise … the regret. You always were good at reading him. A moment later he was back to his cold exterior. Unreadable. Unknowable. 

All at once his body jumped into motion. He moved the last few steps towards you, reaching out his hand hesitantly, as if not quite sure how to approach this situation. 

How do you approach this situation? If only he knew just how weird it was 

You took his hand, it practically enveloped yours, and it was so warm, familiar - 

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER 

“It’s good to see you again (Y/N)” 

“Likewise” 

The stares of the other agents came from all sides, clearly trying to decipher just what was happening here. The silence was deafening, the noise of the bustling bullpen just background to the tension and confusion mounting in this one area. You were just waiting for the first brave agent to speak up, to ask the question they all wanted to know the answer to. 

“So how do you two -”

BEEP BEEP 

The shrill sound of the tech analysts phone thankfully cuts off the question that Agent Prentiss had begun to ask. 

“Sorry guys, guess the getting to know you party’s over, we have a case” says Penelope, pouting slightly. 

Ahh saved by the bell 

Despite this, no one seems quite ready to leave just yet, much more happy to linger here and figure out this puzzle. It’s Aaron who moves first. 

“You’re welcome to sit this one out if you want to get acquainted with your surroundings first.” 

“Thank you, Aaron, but I’m ready. Let's get to work.” 

He throws you a swift nod and moves past you, climbing the stairs to the walkway above. Slowly, the other agents follow suit, until you’re left alone with Penelope. 

“Hey, are you alright?” she gently rests a hand on your shoulder, “You seem tense?” 

“I’m fine,” you shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts racing through it, “Just first day jitters.” 

She offers you a small smile, satisfied with your answer. You can tell she’s just dying to ask how you know Aaron, but not quite sure how to bring it up, like she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. 

“We knew each other. In law school. In case you were wondering.” 

“Have you seen him since?” 

“Nope. 16 years since I last saw him.” sixteen very long years

You can tell she knows there’s more to it, but she doesn’t want to push. Not on your first day. You expect that in a couple weeks you will be grilled in depth about your relationship with Aaron, what he was like in College, how well you knew him. But for now she simply nods, happy with this snippet of information she will likely file away and research as soon as she gets back to her office. 

“Come with me Agent (Y/L/N), we have a case to solve.” 

                                                                 *

The case was pretty standard, If you could call a case that. 5 women had been murdered, all brunets, all young and attractive. No doubt some sick bastard had been dumped or rejected at some point in their miserable lives and decided to take it out on anyone who looked the slightest bit like her.  All you had to do was catch him. “From looking at the geographical profile I've deduced that his comfort zone is between these three points, so the odds are that he lives somewhere in here.” “We could increase police presence in these neighbourhoods, might make -" 

you missed the end of the police chiefs sentence as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. 

INCOMING CALL: SOFIA

You feel someone's eyes on you and look up to see Aaron’s questioning gaze. You flash the phone at him and he simply nods his head. You slip quietly from the room, trying not to pull any attention away from the discussion happening around the table, and duck into an alcove. 

“Hey sweetie”

��Hey mom.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to say goodnight. How’s the case going?” 

“It’s good. Well, not good, but it’s certainly going.” you can feel those eyes on you again, and you resist the temptation to look round. Not now, please not now

“Well, I don’t want to keep you if you’re busy, just wanted to touch base.” 

“Ok, well goodnight sweetie, I’ll see you soon. Love you”

“Love you too. Oh and mom.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Kick some bad guy ass.” You laugh at that

“Ok, I will certainly try.” You hang up the phone, still grinning slightly as you glance at the picture on the screen. You and Sofia had spent the day at the beach and she had snapped a picture of the two of you as the sun set, ice creams in hand. You missed her. 

There was a flurry of movement from the room you had just left, everyone grabbing their things and moving to the exit. 

“What’s happening?” you managed to snag Reid’s arm as he walked past. By the look on his face it wasn’t good. 

“They’ve found another body.” 

You felt your stomach drop. You weren’t smiling anymore. 

                                                                 *

Dumped. Like trash. Just something to be thrown away. That’s what he thought of these women. You stared at her body, all crumpled on the floor and you felt the anger bubbling in your stomach. If you stared long enough she started to look like Sofia. A bit older, a bit taller. But the similarities were still there. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head slightly, trying to clear yourself of that mental image. 

No. She’s at home. Safe. 

“Are you alright?” He’s looking at you with that air of concern again and it’s almost too much. You can't bring yourself to look in his eyes, instead opting to look at the wall just over his shoulder. 

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“If you need a minute, a break…”

“I’ll be fine Aaron.” You look at him then, feel the full force of his gaze and it overwhelms you. He can see it in your eyes. His eyebrows furrow and you can see he’s trying to read you, trying to figure out just what's wrong.

Everything. Everything’s wrong. And you don’t even know . 

You feel the tears start to well in your eyes and you force yourself to look away. You can see out the corner of your eye as he begins to reach for you and you hold up your hand. 

Please no. Don’t touch me. I don’t think I could bare it. Then it would be real.

“I’m fine Aaron. Really. It’s just a lot is all.”

“(Y/N) -” 

You walk away before he can probe any deeper, moving to the mouth of the alley, breathing deep from the crisp night air. The tears still sit, threatening to fall and you try to hold them back. 

Not here. Not now. Keep yourself together. 

You feel him coming up behind you again, and you spin, your fear and sadness turning to anger. 

“Aaron I said I’m fine -” 

“Woah don’t shoot it’s just me.” You see Prentiss holding her hands in mock surrender. She lowers them, huffing out a laugh, but regarding you with that self same look of concern. 

What is this look? A BAU special?

“I’d ask you if you’re alright but I don’t especially feel like getting my head blown off. That being said … Are you ok?”

Just like she did a moment ago you let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. 

“Oh god, this isn’t a great first impression is it?” You feel like an idiot. You’re first day and already you’re practically having a breakdown. 

“Don’t worry about it. We all have our moments, our limits. It’s what makes us human.” She lays a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

You can see why they’re all so close. They look out for one another. See when one is hurting. Like a family. 

Family. 

“We’ll get him you know.” She pulls you from your thoughts and you glance back to her, eyes focussing on the here and now. 

“I know.” 

You share a small smile and you begin to truly believe it. 

                                                                *

And catch him you did. You had figured out he was stalking and abducting women from their homes. He saw them at work, in a coffee shop, at the mall. One look and he already knew he wanted to kill them. The trick was finding them after he had abducted them. And without any physical evidence to even hint to who this man might be it seemed an impossible task. 

But he slipped up. He left a trace. Whether that was the increased police presence, the fact that the FBI were there or just the fact that he was getting sloppy. It didn’t matter. You had DNA. And a name. 

Charles Manes. We're coming for you. 

For a man unhinged he was surprisingly easy to take down. He just gave himself up, that shit eating grin on his face as he did it. The last woman he had abducted was laying on the floor, bound and gagged. You ran over to her, pulling the rope from her body and helping her to sit up. She began sobbing and you held her against you as she cried, rubbing soothing circles on her back. 

“You’re ok. You’re safe now.” 

The paramedics took her from you and led her outside, ready to take her to the hospital. You followed after, stopping by the front door and leaning against the frame, taking a moment. You felt a presence beside you and turned to see Rossi watching her get loaded into the ambulance. 

“We did good.” he said, not even glancing towards you, “She’ll be alright.” 

“Eventually.” You took a deep sigh, feeling yourself start to relax. A commotion made you both look and you saw Charles fighting with the officers trying to load him into the police car. It seemed Aaron saw too as in a flash he was by their side, helping to get him in without causing any more damage. 

You felt your body tense, felt Rossi glance at you questioningly. 

“Everything alright agent?” 

How do they do this? They barely even know me! Stupid profilers. 

“Never better.” You said, glancing back at him over your shoulder as you made your way to the SUV’s, to the rest of the team. 

“We got him,” Prentiss clapped you on the shoulder as you passed, headed to the second SUV, “let’s go home.” 

                                                                 *

You had to admit, travelling by jet was quite the experience. What wasn’t as fancy was the great pile of paperwork waiting for you at the other end. You’d only just started but already you were swamped. 

You sat at your desk. Penelope had laid out your things whilst you all were away. “I just wanted you to feel more at home here when you got back”. It was sparse, but functional. She had even left you a post-it note with a cute message on and a unicorn stress toy, “You didn’t have any pictures, so I wanted to liven the place up a bit, I hope you like it.” 

Right. No pictures. Wonder why. 

The paperwork loomed and you tried to stay focused, eager to go home, but as the words began to merge into one another you knew it was time for coffee. 

Another long night it is then. 

You thought about calling Sofia, letting her know you would be late back. Would she even still be up? Who are you kidding, of course she is. 

Might as well call her. A break from paperwork might do me some good. 

You reached into your desk drawer to take out your phone. 

“Y/N can I speak to you for a moment in my office?” 

Maybe not then. 

He was looking down at you from the walkway, not quite meeting your eyes. He seemed fidgety, like he couldn't decide whether to cross his arms or put them in his pockets or lean against the bannister. 

Nervous. Interesting. 

“Of course.” You walked up the stairs to where he stood and he motioned for you to go inside and take a seat. He lingered by the door for a moment before pushing it closed and making his way around the desk and sitting in his chair, hands steepled before him on the desk. He regarded you for a moment and you felt your heart skip. It felt like he was x raying you, like he could see into your mind, into the thoughts racing about in there. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to escape his gaze, or at least prompt him into talking. Anything to break the silence. 

“I just wanted to check in on you, your first case and all. You’ve done some exceptional work and I can see you being an excellent asset to this team.” 

“Thank you. I can see that I’m going to enjoy working with this team.” 

He simply nodded, nothing more to say, but you could see in his face he wasn’t done. Not really. 

Is that really all you want to say? Come on Aaron spit it out. I can see it in your eyes. Maybe this will make it easier on the both of us, if we just blurt out what we have to say at the same time. Or would that wreck you even more? Either way I’m the bad guy. But I can’t keep this to myself. You need to know. You want to know. So just ask. 

“Why did you leave?” he blurted it out suddenly and it shocked you, and by the look on his face it shocked him too 

“I’m sorry what?” 

He gained back some of his composure, steeling himself before asking again.

“Why did you leave law school. Right before finals you just up and left. No letters, no reason just there one minute gone the next. I tried to find out something, anything but no one knew-” You could tell he was working his way up to something. 

Come on. Ask me. Make this easier on me. Blame yourself, so when I tell you the truth it will hurt less. Because you know why. Or at least part of it. 

“If you left because of what I did I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to drive you away. It was stupid and immature and if that is why I am truly sorry.” 

Oh god, I thought if I heard you admit it, it wouldn’t hurt as much to tell you the truth. To hurt you like you did me. But it’s worse, so much worse. Because you’re sorry. And I’m the villain. The one who didn’t tell you. 

You could feel the tears falling down your face, slipping onto the hands wound tightly in your lap. His face was breaking too, and you couldn’t bare to look at it a moment longer.  

“Y/N -” he reached across the desk for you but you held up your hand to stop him, just like in the alleyway. 

“Please. Don’t.”

“If this is because of me I’m so sorry. If you want I can get you a transfer. If you can’t work with me we can sort this out.”

That's right, the cowards way out. Just keep avoiding this conversation till you eventually die. 

Just tell him. Get it over with. Rip off the bandaid. 

“Please stop. Just stop. It’s not your fault. I mean, it was, partly, but it wasn’t. And when I tell you why you will probably hate me, and can take that. I deserve it. And if you want to transfer me out, get rid of me I understand. But when you left me, to go back to Haley it broke me. I hated you. I hated you with everything I had and I thought the best way to punish you was to just not tell you. But over the years I’ve realised how stupid I was, how selfish and foolish I was to not tell you. All because of some petty relationship drama.”

His look of confusion morphed into one of understanding and horror. Like he had connected the dots in his head but wasn’t quite ready to admit to what they all added up to. He was as far away from you as possible. Like you stood before him with a bomb and he was waiting for it to go off. And you were. 

“I was pregnant Aaron. I was pregnant and I never told you. I just left. And I’m so sorry.” 

Your whole body was shaking as you dissolved fully into tears, not daring to look at him, to no doubt see the anger and the disgust written on his face. Disgust at how stupid and selfish you were. 

Not telling someone they have a daughter. How evil can you be. 

You heard your name spoken softly from the chair beside you. You hadn’t even seen him get up. But he reached for you again, and this time you let him, let him pull you into his arms, rest your head against his chest as you cried and cried, spilling tears onto his white shirt. He rested his chin on top of your head, rubbing soothing circles onto your back, rocking you slightly. 

No. This is wrong. This is all wrong. You should hate me for what I’ve done, I’m despicable. 

“Aaron.” You brought your head up from his chest, finally looking at his face. He didn’t look angry or disgusted, he just looked … sad.  

“It’s alright.” He gently brushed some of the tears from your face, one hand coming to rest on your cheek, “It’s ok.” 

“It’s not ok Aaron. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I kept this from you.” 

The hand on your cheek fell away, coming to rest instead on your hand, holding it in his. 

“You must hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“Well I hate myself.” 

“This isn’t your fault”

“Isn’t it?” 

“I screwed up. We both did. But I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about this. I drove you away and I broke your heart. We both made mistakes. But we can fix them now.”

The way he said, the way he seemed to stare into your soul, made you truly believe you could. 

“Tell me about them. Tell me everything.” 

And so you did. You told him everything about Sofia. How excited she was to go into her junior year next year. How she liked to eat pancakes on saturdays and drink tea because it made her feel fancy. You told him how she cries at soppy movies and how you would always make time for mother daughter dates. And he listened to every moment of it, every little detail. And it pained you that he never knew any of this. That he never got to see her grow up. But maybe now he could get some of that time back. Still have a relationship, make some memories with her. 

“I want to meet her.” 

“I want that too.” 

And you felt some understanding pass between the two of you. That whatever had happened in the past was over with. Now, what was important, more than anything else, was family. 

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Six) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Phone(?)/Skype sex. Mutual masturbation.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 11,148

Timeline: Two weeks after part forty-five.

I did everything I could possibly think of in order to make Hotch stay with me instead of going to the Middle East, all the way up to the point when he was getting on the plane. I went to him with case files every time I caught him packing in the bedroom. I thought that if I asked him for enough help since I was just getting back to work, I’d come off as a completely lost doe that needed coddling with cases and reports. I wasn’t, of course. Taking one look at most of these cases, I could deduce who the Unsub was without having to consult with the local PD further. As for the reports, they were pretty standard, too. But I was desperate for Aaron to stay, so I made an attempt to make it seem like I needed him there or else I was completely helpless. Unfortunately, Hotch saw right through me. He knew what I was up to, and he knew that I was just playing dumb, when, in reality, I would never ask for his help in a million years because I was always adamant about doing stuff like this on my own.

So, I had to get more creative. I started hiding his stuff. He would leave to go buy something or pick up dinner, and I would race to hide his suitcases or clothes in my car in the garage. He always found them, though. My last resort was practically dangling the black box in front of his face. I started lounging around in the bedroom, the black box just casually sitting in plain view—or sometimes, I’d even pull out a toy to have it just be there next to my thighs. I was practically begging him to punish me. I was giving him every reason in the world to just tie me up and leave me there until he missed his flight.

Yet, the only time he ever gave in to that ploy was when he came home to find me naked on the bed, my legs spread, nipple clamps hanging from my chest, a dildo thrusting in and out of me. When I cried out Sean’s name as a joke, Aaron wasn’t having it. He locked the door behind himself, stormed over to the black box, grabbed a length of rope, then proceeded to tie my wrists over my head. He pulled the toy out of me without any hesitation, and within an instant, he had his pants pushed down, and he was hovering over me.

“Fucking brat,” he growled in my ear as he thrusted into me.

I tried apologizing since I knew the Sean thing was a bad idea in hindsight, but he didn’t want to hear it. All he did was wrap his hand around my neck and gently squeeze until I whimpered submissively. By the time he was done fucking me, he had forced about three orgasms out of me while insisting that he was the only one who could make me feel that good. Not that I argued with that. He was entirely right, and we both knew it, but I poked the possessive button, and he fucking lost it. He wasn’t focused on anything but proving a point to me. The point was fairly simple, too. It was to say, “You’re mine. Only mine. No one else’s. The only name you should ever be screaming is mine.” And I did. I screamed his name as I tugged at the restraints and begged for mercy.

And then he still left.

The only person in the world who could love me, understand me, hear me, and fuck me the way he did was suddenly gone. I was all alone. I mean, of course I still had Jack and baby Emily, and the team was there, too, but it was so different. Everything just felt like it was falling apart so fast. I was furious. I was sad. I was confused. I felt entirely lost and lonely without him constantly around. And every time I looked at Jack—a blonde, but still spitting image of his father—my heart wrenched a bit, I didn’t know how I was supposed to do this without him. Raising Jack and Emily simultaneously while still going to work—and who knew what was going on with that now that Hotch was gone. It ultimately boiled down to the fact that the team had to go on a few cases without me. Between Emily getting sick and Jack’s soccer games and practices, I was struggling. I didn’t understand how Hotch did it as a single parent after Haley left him and before I met him.

Saying goodbye to him at the airport was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life. Watching him hold Emily in his arms, playing with her as she giggled and squirmed, then saying goodbye to her… It tore me apart. I remember feeling this chill run through my body before the tears started to well. I didn’t stop myself from crying. In fact, I didn’t even hide in Morgan’s chest to keep Hotch from seeing just how distraught I was. I wanted to know that this choice Hotch made was breaking me. I begged him to stay—I begged him to choose his family over work, something I never thought I would have to do in our relationship. And yet, he chose work over the baby we just had. For the shortest moment, as I stood there with the kids and the team, watching as Hotch boarded the private military plane, I felt like Haley.

After he landed in… Well, wherever it was that they had stationed him, we started calling each other every single day. Sometimes he could afford to talk to me and Jack for hours on end, but most of the time he could only talk for a couple of minutes—maybe even just a few seconds to say something along the lines of: “I’m so sorry, baby, I can’t talk today. I love you.” And then he would hang up before I could say anything. Those days were the worst. At least sometimes I got to see his face over Skype, and I could see that he was safe. He was dirty and tired most of the time, but he was alive, and that was what mattered.

Then, things at work started getting complicated for me, too, which made it hard to find time to talk to Hotch. Because of the time differences, I was always working when he was free, and vice versa. It came down to the fact that I was having to sneak in the calls in the janitor’s closet during lunch, which meant that he had to be up around 2AM or so just to hear my voice or see my face. We made it work, though. We called, and we talked about how much we missed each other, and I told him everything about the changes at the BAU.

Since Hotch left and Prentiss died, we had to fill spots on the team. JJ expedited the process to become a profiler by taking the courses at lightning speed and getting special permission from both Section Chief Strauss and Cody, the Director—which took some effort on my end, pulling some strings I had with him. Rossi was made lead profiler, Garcia was invited to sit in on the case readings more often, and I was… Well, Hotch didn’t need to know that quite yet. The timing just wasn’t right.

“Hey, sunshine,” Morgan said, running down the stairs. I craned my neck back against the couch, looking upside down to see that he wasn’t carrying Emily anymore. He must’ve set her down to sleep in her crib.

“Hey.”

“The little devil’s sleeping.”

“Figured.” I sat back up straight and went back to reviewing the case I was consulting on. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Anytime.” He came around the couch to grab one of his bags from the floor. “Hey, I’m headed to the gym. Do you wanna join me?” I shook my head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. JJ’s got me knee deep in consultations, so I need to keep going until I burn out.”

He squinted at me, a warning that we both knew that it was a bad idea. But it was better if I just kept my mind busy. Sitting around, doing nothing—or even going to work out while talking to Morgan or listening to music—was just going to tear me apart, because all I could think about nowadays was Hotch. I was beginning to forget the way he felt. I couldn’t forget his smell since he was practically everywhere in our house, but his skin against mine… I missed holding his hand, pressing my lips to his, running my hands through his hair, holding his face—Stop. See, that was exactly what I meant. If I wasn’t just keeping my head down and working on cases, then I was practically falling apart.

“Alright,” he finally gave in with a shrug. “I’ll be back in about two hours.”

“Or you could just… go back to your house,” I offered with a playful smile.

He matched my smile while winking and shaking his head. “Not quite yet, sugar. See ya.”

I waved with the back of my hand in his direction, hearing the door open then close shortly after. When he was gone, I relaxed, looking up from my paperwork in order to stare at the wall for a moment. I missed him. I missed my husband more than anything in the world. It had only been two weeks, and yet I never thought I could miss anyone this much. I didn’t even miss Elle to this extent—and she was my own flesh and blood. Did that make me a bad person? Maybe…

My phone suddenly buzzed with a text from Jessica, letting me know that she could pick up Jack on her way to our house so that I wouldn’t have to. I picked up my phone long enough to thank her. She really didn’t have to keep going above and beyond like this for us, but I was eternally grateful for everything she had done for us. I could say it a thousand times. I was grateful that she wanted to still be a part of our family after her sister’s death, and that she still wanted to lend a helping hand with my daughter that was in no way related to her. She was always kind like that. It set her apart from Haley ever since I met them; but I would have never admitted that to anyone now that Haley was gone.

Knowing that I had about another hour or two until the house would be full again, I decided to see if I could sneak in a call with Hotch. It was late enough there that his camp was either asleep or in full gear, ready to go out to do whatever it was their job was out there. I think the not knowing was the hardest part. I didn’t know if he was just training guys out there, or if he was hunting terrorists like Emily did before joining the BAU, or if he was on the front lines where he was facing the barrel of a gun every single day. I never knew whether or not I should have been concerned. He couldn’t tell me, and he was always the one person I struggled to profile whenever he closed himself off from me—which was why I absolutely hated it when he kept secrets from me, and that was why we made our deal to never withhold anything from one another ever again. But this was different. He was bound by duty and law to say nothing to me, and I couldn’t fault him for that.

I grabbed my computer and settled it on my thighs as I opened up Skype and started calling him. It hardly dialed three times before he answered. There was a slight buffer where he was frozen just as his camera turned on, but at least I could see his smile and his scratchy beard that was ever so slowly growing in.

“Hi, baby,” I greeted.

“Hey,” Hotch answered, “let me grab some headphones real quick.” He was digging in his bag under his cot in search of the pair of headphones I made him pack for this reason specifically. When he found them buried at the bottom of his bag, he sat back down on his cot, leaned against the fragile wall of his tent, and plugged the headphones in. “That’s better,” he sighed with relief. “Let me hear your voice, baby.”

I smiled. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Don’t stop,” he begged.

I winked at him. “How are you?”

“Tired. Bored. I miss you so much…”

I wished just then that I could hold him and kiss him. I felt this uncontrollable urge to somehow jump through the screen and fall into his arms. If I had him in front of me for even a moment, I would have thrown my arms around his neck and I would have refused to ever let go again. No matter how hard he would try to pry me off, I wouldn’t’ve released him. I would have hugged him until my arms would grow numb and my legs would give out. Even then, I think I still would have held on.

“Where’s everyone?” he asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at the empty house. “Emily’s napping upstairs, Jessica’s at the grocery store, Jack’s at school, and Morgan’s at the gym.”

Derek Morgan, as much as I loved him, was hovering too much. Since Hotch left, Morgan had decided to practically move in with us, choosing to sleep on our couch rather than his bed in his own house. I tried asking him once if there was any reason in particular that he was suddenly living in our house, and he insisted that it was to help out with Emily while Hotch was gone. While I did believe him, I also knew that there was more to it than that, but I always decided to not pry. Having Morgan around to help me and Jessica with the kids was a huge help, one that I honestly couldn’t turn down. He was so good with Emily, and even better with Jack. He was going above and beyond to help Jessica to make sure that I didn’t even have to lift a finger, even though I wanted to help. Morgan told me that my only job was to sit there, look pretty, do my work, and spend time with my kids. That was it. But now he was hovering more, and it felt like how Hotch was when I was pregnant. If I even tried approaching the stairs, Morgan was right there to make sure I wouldn’t suddenly fall. Even worse was how, in the field, Morgan was guarding me more with his body like he was ready to take a bullet for me at any moment. It was really, really weird, but I hadn’t found a way to confront him about it yet.

Hotch settled on his cot some more, the camera shaking as he did so. “What’s new since Sunday?” he asked me.

“Oh, boy,” I chuckled. “Derek’s going to be the bane of my existence, I swear.”

“Still bad?”

I nodded. “I’m almost tempted to just drive him back to his house and tie him to the radiator or something.” Hotch laughed in response. “I’m serious. He’s taking this godfather thing a little too serious, Aaron.”

“He means well.”

“I know he does.” I rolled my eyes. “But we hardly get moments like this anymore where the two of us can talk because if Jack’s not running about, then Morgan’s hovering to make sure I haven’t broken a bone while just sitting here.”

“Well, have you?” he asked sarcastically.

I squinted at him. “I swear—”

“What else is new?” He changed the topic as fast as possible, knowing that just talking about Morgan further was only going to get me worked up. I relaxed on the couch a bit more and brought up the collar of his sweatshirt to my mouth to hide behind it nervously. Hotch’s brows furrowed in response. “What is it?”

I pulled the hood over my head and whispered behind the fabric of the sweatshirt, “The other day…”

“I can’t hear you like that, baby. Sit up.”

I rolled my eyes at his command before doing so. I hated that we were left to just quick commands and that was all. There wasn’t enough privacy on his end for him to even say “good girl” … or, even better… “slut” or “whore”. I could tell that it was always hanging on his tongue, wanting to be said, but he had to hold back.

“Jack has a new favorite thing,” I explained once I sat up and stopped hiding. Hotch raised a curious brow. “He called me ‘Mom’ the other day.”

“That’s great!” he cheered a little too loud. He realized his volume quickly, checking his surroundings to make sure he hadn’t disturbed anyone, then looked back at me with a wide smile. “I’m so glad, baby.”

“Me, too,” I admitted. “I like it… I like when he says it…”

“What’s wrong, then?” he asked worriedly.

I sighed. How did he know me so well that he could tell that something was wrong even through the constant image freezes and buffers? Sometimes I really hated being married to him because he was a damn good profiler, and all it took was one fluctuation in my tone, and he’d know that the whole world was turning on its head somehow.

“I don’t want him to forget Haley.”

Hotch’s eyes softened and his shoulders fell. “Y/N, we’ve both talked to him about this a thousand times—”

“I know, Aaron, but I still worry. I don’t want to replace her.”

“You’re not. You and Haley are vastly different people, and Jack loves you both. That’s not a bad thing. It’s been two years, baby; we knew that this would happen eventually. It’s a good thing. You are his mother, Y/N. You’ve looked after him for nearly three years, and you’ve loved him every day since meeting him. You’re not replacing anyone. I promise, baby.”

I supposed he was right. It didn’t necessarily irk me that Jack called me ‘Mom’. Like I said before, it was honestly a relief, and I had felt my heart swell twofold, but there was something holding me back. I didn’t realize it until just then, but it was Hotch. I was terrified that Hotch wouldn’t like it, because that title originally belonged to Haley. Who was I to be Jack’s mom now? But Hotch seemed happy about it. He even managed to talk some sense into me, which was nice.

“Hey,” I caught his attention again. My voice had lowered in tone and volume, a silent signal that I had something serious I wanted to talk about. Hotch cocked a brow at me to let me know that he was listening. “I have to tell you something…” I fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie to keep my mind occupied. “I… I, um…” Why couldn’t I just spit it out? He would understand, right? He wouldn’t get mad. He’d be glad that I was honest with him. Right… I swallowed my pride and just decided to go for it. “I got a promotion.”

“What?” he chortled.

I nodded, understanding that he was a bit confused. Honestly, I was still confused about it all, too. When I got back from maternity leave, there was talk about how someone needed to step up to take Hotch’s position while he was gone. Technically, it didn’t need to be official, but Strauss wanted to make sure that we maintained a hierarchy until Hotch could come back and lead the team again.

At first, she offered the job to Morgan again since he had done it before and seemed to be pretty good at it, but he insisted that he didn’t need to do it again, therefore he wasn’t going to step up to the plate. I recognized that there was more to it than that, though. Morgan was nervous about taking the reins again because it was hard enough to relinquish control the first time after the Foyet incidents had concluded. If he took the job on again, he probably feared that he wouldn’t be able to give Hotch his job back. So, Strauss went to JJ. However, she turned the opportunity down, too, insisting that she enjoyed her job as was. She liked worrying about giving us cases, not running them. She wasn’t sure if she would even be good at it, so she passed. Strauss considered Reid before me, which was the funny part. Reid was a good kid, and he worked just as hard as everyone else, but he wasn’t a leader type. He seemed content with being the smart one and listening to orders. I wasn’t sure if he was capable of running a team and making smart calls. It just wasn’t in his nature, and that wasn’t his fault.

So, when no one else stepped up to take the job, it was left to me. Strauss asked me if I could do it despite having a new baby at home and having to raise two kids without their father around. I told her that we had Jessica, though I elected to leave out that Morgan was helping out, too; and I insisted that I’d be fine with taking on all of Hotch’s responsibilities until he could get back. That included taking charge in the field, doing all of the paperwork, talking with Strauss about decisions made in the field— the unfortunate downside of this promotion— and taking responsibility for any decision my team or I would make, good or bad. I knew that I could handle that, and I knew that I could do it well. So, the job became mine.

I was given Hotch’s office, though I didn’t change anything in it since it was still, technically, his, and I wanted it to continue feeling that way. Strauss dropped a stack of files on my new desk, wished me good luck with a wicked smirk, and the team all looked to me for answers. On the first case, I was a little… well… annoying, to say the least. I was trying too hard to fit into Hotch’s role, to take the lead as he would. While I wanted to make things seem normal and run smoothly, I obviously wasn’t Hotch, and I clearly thought differently from him while out in the field. It took me up until the next case to realize that I couldn’t be Hotch. I needed to just be me and run the team how I saw fit— while still keeping in mind WWAHD, of course.

“I don’t want the job forever,” I insisted to Hotch over the call. “We all still want you to come home and be our unit chief. This is just temporary, and I think that I’m not even that good at it, and I—”

“You’re rambling.”

I looked up at him through the screen. “Sorry.”

“Unit Chief SSA Greenaway…” he let the name roll off his tongue. “I like it.”

“Actually, I’m trying something new.” I blushed and hid my face from him slightly.

Hotch raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re looking at Unit Chief SSA Hotchner.”

Hotch’s jaw fell slightly. “You’re kidding. What happened to following in your mother’s footsteps, keeping your maiden name and whatnot.”

I shrugged. “It feels weird without a Hotchner in the office. Besides, it feels nice to say that my name is Hotchner. I probably won’t keep it that long, or I’ll stop when you get back because it’ll only confuse people, but—”

“You’re rambling again,” he teased. I blushed and hid my face even more. “Listen to me. I am so proud of you. You’re going to do great; I just know it. Don’t be nervous.”

“But?”

“But I don’t want you to stretch yourself too thin, baby. You know how hard it was for me to find time to come home to you and Jack almost every night. I just want to make sure that you’re still getting home to Emily.”

“I’m doing fine, baby. I promise. Besides, we’ve got a whole damn village here to look after the kids.” I laughed. “I think Morgan would kill me if I didn’t get home to Emily when we aren’t on a case.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “But you’re happy?” he asked sincerely. “You’re doing okay?”

I nodded and shrugged. “It’s odd to hear everyone call me ‘ma’am’,” I admitted. “It feels too formal.”

Hotch smiled. “You get used to it.”

“Yeah, but I miss calling you ‘Sir’... In more ways than—”

“Y/N…” he warned quietly, looking around his tent. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”

“Hey, I still have the black box and privacy. I don’t have to worry about anything.”

“It’s been two weeks. You need a little more self-control, baby girl.”

I bit back a moan I felt rising in my throat. I really fucking missed hearing him call me that while he hovered over me. He was right that it had only been two weeks, but that was two weeks too long. Every morning since he left, I needed him desperately. I’d roll over, reaching for him, but he wasn’t there. I’d make two cups of coffee, and hold one out for him, but he never came to get it. I’d reach out to hold his hand while driving, but he wasn’t there, and I couldn’t kiss his knuckles. It was torture. But the worst part was when I’d be laying down, and I’d think about his touches on my skin, or his lips kissing mine, or curling my fingers around his hair… I’d think about him hovering over me, fucking me until I saw stars, grabbing onto my neck until I could barely breathe, demanding that I call him Sir, forcing whines and moans out of me, making me cum on his cock over and over again… Those were the worst moments. Not only because I missed him, but because nothing in the damn black box could do the trick like he could. There was something special about him being inside of me, or him controlling the toys. I could tease him all day about using the black box while he was gone, but the truth of the matter was that I needed him. Being away from him was tearing me apart.

That being said, I could still try to play my games. Our games, my brattiness, it was all what made us unique and so madly in love. Now that I had set up the mood for myself, and practically left him desperate for me in the same way that I had been desperate for him over the past two weeks, I could make my next move. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I bit my lip. “I just miss your cock so much…”

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Sir?” I asked innocently, batting my eyes at him.

His neck craned so that he could look around his tent for any sign that he would be disrupted. When the coast appeared clear, he adjusted his posture and looked back at the camera. “Shirt. Now.”

I gulped and shivered. “I thought that you couldn’t—”

“There isn’t much time. Do it now.” He was still looking around shortly, but I could see how his computer was shaking in his lap, accompanied by the sound of him fidgeting with his belt buckle. I nodded, sitting up slightly so that I could pull off his hoodie to reveal my bare chest. “Baby girl…” he moaned quietly into his headphone’s microphone. “Pinch your nipples.” I nodded and reached to do so, but he suddenly stopped me with, “I want to hear you, baby. I can’t be loud, and I can’t say much, but I want to hear you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he moaned quietly. I continued to move until my cold fingers ran over my nipples. My eyes screwed shut in response, and I let out a sigh. I pinched them, just like he ordered me to, and my head fell back against the cushions of the couch. “Are they sensitive?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Pull them.”

I did as I was told, lightly pinching and pulling at them like he would. Sometimes he wanted it to hurt, especially when he was punishing me, other times he just wanted me to feel the full force of how arousing it was. In that moment, I was imagining him punishing me, but it just didn’t feel the same. It was arousing, but it just wasn’t the fucking same. I wanted it to be him. I wanted him to pinch them hard while I squirmed under him. I wanted him to suck on them, maybe even gently bite at them. I just wanted more. I wanted him so bad.

“You look so hot, baby,” he moaned under his breath. I hated that he had to be so quiet. One of my favorite things about Hotch was how vocal he was in bed. He wasn’t afraid to moan or talk dirty to me. He always knew exactly what to do and say… All I wanted was to just hear him groan in my ear over and over again. “I miss you so much.” His camera kept shaking, and I knew what he was doing, but I wanted to see it. So, when I made my move to put my computer on the coffee table so that he could see me, Hotch got the hint. He moved his computer lower on his knees. I moaned and pinched my nipples again when I saw how hard he was while fucking his fist. “Your… your pants, baby girl.”

“Yes, Sir.” I lifted my hips off the couch so that I could push my pants down, which was just a pair of his flannel pajama pants.

“Fuck—” I heard him hiss under his breath once I was naked. “So beautiful…”

As I sat back down entirely, I could see how fast and hard he was masturbating, yet he hadn’t even given me another command. Asshole. I was dying on that couch without touching, yet there he was, already a mess. I wished that his hand were mine, or my mouth, or my dripping cunt. Anything. I needed him so bad. This was a relief and a change of pace since he left and all I had was the black box and the memory of what he felt like. At least this time I got to see him. But that still wasn’t enough to satisfy the urge building in the pit of my stomach.

“Please, Sir… Please… May I touch for you, Sir?”

“You wanna make yourself feel good for me, baby girl?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Do it.”

I reclined backwards, my fingers immediately finding their way down to my clit. I gasped, “Fuck—” I let out a shaky breath. “I’m so wet for you, Sir.”

“Moan my name for my baby.”

“Aaron…” I let his name fall off my lips effortlessly as I circled my clit faster.

“Again.”

“Aaron—” I gasped again as my walls clenched around nothing. “I miss you so much, Sir.”

“I miss you, too, baby girl.”

I looked at the computer to see him watching me intently, his hand fucking his length faster and harder. And then he stopped to rub his thumb over his tip. That was what I used to do to him all the time. It was the way I teased him. I didn’t realize he loved it so much. But seeing him do it of his own volition, then hearing him let out a quiet, helpless moan as he threw his head back against the flimsy wall of his tent. The image of him falling apart only made me go faster. I bucked my hips around for extra stimulus, and I brought my free hand to one of my nipples, pretending like it was Hotch’s mouth sucking and nibbling. Since giving birth, I was so sensitive. The slightest pinch set me on fire, and we both knew it.

“Fuck, fuck, shit—” Hotch pulled his shirt up slightly so that I could see the way his chest tightened. “I’m close for you, baby girl.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“You know I can’t—” he hesitated when he bit back a groan.

I knew that he couldn’t say anything too bad, so I had to do it. I had to tip him over the edge, and I didn’t mind. “Are you thinking about fucking me?” I asked. He nodded while still biting down on his bottom lip. “Being buried inside of me. Feeling me tighten around you as I get closer and closer to my orgasm.” He ran his thumb over his tip again. “Listening to me scream your name over and over again… Feeling as I thrash under you when you edge me.” I moaned loudly, throwing my head back against the cushions as the knot in my stomach started to tighten.

“Don’t stop.”

“Would you tie me up and edge me for hours, Sir?”

“Yes, brat. Any chance I could get.”

“Would you edge me until I couldn’t breathe?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Would you cum in me to mark me as yours?”

Hotch flipped the bottom hem of his shirt into his mouth and bit down as hard as he could. Despite the fabric buried in his mouth, I still heard him groan so sharply I knew that he was cumming for me. I looked up just in time to see his abs flexing, his hips thrusting upwards, his cock twitching in his hand, his semen shooting in strings onto his chest.

I panted through asking, “May I cum for you, Sir?”

“Just for me, baby girl. Do it,” he mumbled behind his shirt.

I flicked my clit back and forth as fast as I could until I was nothing but a moaning, breathless mess, just as he was. “Sir!” My legs shook when I tipped over the edge. “Thank you, Sir—” My walls clenched around nothing as my orgasm peaked, then slowly started subsiding. “Thank you…”

“Fuck, baby girl.”

I caught my breath and stared at him. “I miss you.”

He reached to grab a cloth from outside of the camera’s view. “I miss you, too, baby. Next time…” He leaned back and started cleaning off his chest. “Next time, it’ll be in you. I promise.”

“They gave you a date you’re coming back?” I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. “No. But I’m still making that promise. I’ll break my knee if it means getting back to you soon.”

“Don’t be melancholy and hyperbolic, Aaron Hotchner.”

He chuckled and threw the rag to the side before pulling his shirt back down to cover himself. His actions sparked me to do the same, so I reached to put his hoodie back on. We were silent for another few moments as I got dressed again, keeping the hood up on my head to keep me warm. If someone came home now, they’d never know what happened. And we were just lucky that I hadn’t woken up Emily. Balancing keeping quiet for a baby and wanting to scream for Hotch until my lungs ached was… Well, it was complicated, to say the least.

“I’m not being melancholy,” he finally said with a laugh. It was like he suddenly realized what I said and had to speak on it.

“Yes, you are.”

“Fine. I’m melancholy because I miss you, Jack, and Emily so much my heart hurts. Is that hyperbolic?”

“No.” It wasn’t hyperbolic at all. I knew that because I felt the same way. His eyes softened as he stared at me. We had both calmed down, and now that the sexual tension was out of the way, all I could think about was how much I infinitely loved him. “I know that it’s selfish to say, but… I need you here with me. I need you to come back.”

“You know I would if I could.” He started looking around his tent frantically. “Y/N, I am so sorry—” He sat up. “I have to go.”

I stuffed my hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing. I sighed and pouted. “I love you. Please be safe.”

He was already pulling out his headphones when he said, “I love you, too,” and then he hung up. I slumped and stared at the blank screen.

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[vengfulfate]

The Malachite's Shady Past

Canon to 'Both of Them, and Only Them'

Melanie and Miltiades are on edge as the team arrives in Mistral. A past they would rather forget becomes unavoidable, and Ruby learns more about her girls than any of them expect.

AN - When I ended 'Both of Them, and Only Them' I stated that I may make one-shots in this continuity if I can think of scenes worth exploring. This is one of those one-shots.

---

Jaune, Ren, Nora, Ruby, and the Malachite twins followed Ruby’s uncle Qrow out of a tunneled walkway and into a crowded marketplace filled with as many cheery, colorful people as it was filled with dark corners for slightly shadier transactions. “The City of Mistral.” Qrow introduced the city the group with an exaggerated flourish with him arms.

“About time!” The ever boisterous Nora proclaimed. “Seriously, whose idea was it to walk again?” she continued, staring pointedly at Ruby.

Ruby nervously rubbed the back of her head. “Well, it’s not like there were any airships out of Vale at the time… and I seriously though it would only take a few weeks.”

“At the same time,” Melanie picked up, “you really thought it would only take a few weeks?”

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” Ruby frowned.

“Maybe once my feet stop hurting,” Melanie teased.

“Oh, well…” Ruby stuttered. “I could, um… give you a foot massage? Isn’t that a thing couples do? Or would that be weird?”

Qrow interrupted, “what’s weird is you discussin’ that right next to the rest us. Save it for the hotel.”

“Right,” Ruby nodded, turning bright red.

“Sooo…” Jaune cut in, desperate to change the subject, “how much further to Haven Academy?”

“Almost there,” Qrow informed them, “but I figured I’d take you kids on the scenic route.”

“But I’ve already got my tour guides!” Ruby boasted proudly.

“You do!?” Nora replied loudly.

“Mel and Miltia were born here,” Ruby confirmed.

“Really?” Jaune asked, his brow cocking. This was the first any of them heard of it their entire hike here.

“Well, yes,” Miltiades answered tentatively.

“But it’s been a few years since we left,” Melanie continued for her sister.

“Years? Musta left pretty young,” Qrow deduced. “Are you orphans or something?”

The twins’ gazes deterred, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

“That was a little blunt, Qrow,” Ren lightly scolded in his calm tones, less to reprimand Qrow and more to support the twins’ silence.

“Sorry,” Qrow played along.

The group continued forward, talking about the city. Seeing the chance of a quiet moment, Ruby fell behind a bit for a small semblance of privacy with her girlfriends. “Hey, are you two okay?”

“We’re fine, Ruby,” Melanie smiled.

But Ruby could tell it was a little forced. “You know you can talk to me, right? Even if you don’t… it’s okay to not be okay.”

“I promise, Ruby, we-” Melanie was suddenly stopped by Miltiades. The twins had one of their infamous silent conversations that ended with Melanie sighing. “It’s… a lot to take in. Being back here. Maybe we’ll elaborate later, but not in the street.”

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Ruby assured. The young redhead then decided on a joke to break the tension, “Maybe we can talk while I practice my foot massage?”

It succeeded in bringing a small smile to Melanie’s and Miltiades’s faces. “We’ll see, Gem.”

A few streets later another shadow fell over Miltiades face. “What is it now?” Ruby asked, following her girlfriend’s line of sight to some nearby graffiti in the shape of a spider. “What’s that?”

The twins shared another concerned look. “It’s a gang sign,” Miltiades finally answered.

“And not a good one,” Melanie added. “We should probably catch up with the rest of the group.”

The twins cast a sly look backwards, looking for anyone following them. To their relief, they spotted no one. Unfortunately, that was only because their tail had already broken off, eager to deliver the information they had gained.

---

Things at Haven Academy did not go nearly as well as Qrow had hoped. A fact that sent the aged Huntsmen to the bars while everyone else went back to their hotel. It was a spacious booking, with rooms aplenty and a common area for the group. The twins and Ruby picked a room to settle in, and after months camping as a group on the road, they cherished the opportunity to cuddle alone behind closed doors.

Ruby was the first to break the silence. “So… you two don’t have to say anything… but we are alone now?”

Melanie sighed.

Ruby winced. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not you,” Melanie assured. “It’s just not happy memories.”

Ruby shifted until she was sitting up with her back against the headboard. “Do you not like being back…?”

Melanie was unsure how to respond. Miltiades ended up being the one to answer, “we like being with you, wherever you are.”

“I’m sorry if I seem pushy,” Ruby continued. “It’s just that when Qrow said… what he said… it made me realize I don’t know anything about before you moved to Vale.”

“You’re right,” Melanie snapped, “you are being pushy.” The brasher twin suddenly stood up and marched out onto the room’s private balcony.

“Mel!” Miltiades called after her sister. Ruby shrank and emotionally folded in on herself, making the milder twin frown. “She’s not mad at you, okay?”

“She seems mad at me,” Ruby countered.

“Let me go talk to her,” Miltiades offered, standing up herself. “We’ll be right back.” Miltiades didn’t like leaving Ruby alone in her poor mood, but this conversation was one the twins had to have, sooner rather than later. She stepped out onto the windy balcony, noting how much ambient noise the door managed to block. She saw her sister leaning on the railing by the far edge. “Are you okay?”

“I just… wasn’t expecting this to come up,” Melanie explained.

“You thought we could get into and out of Mistral without it ever coming up?” Miltiades pointed out.

“Well, I didn’t know how long we’d be here!” Melanie defended. “I was hoping for an afternoon, maybe. In and out and on to the next place…”

“Even if it was years down the road, she would have asked us about our history eventually,” Miltiades argued. “And… I think she deserves to know.”

“I know that,” Melanie sighed. “But what do we say? ‘Our mom is a dead crime boss and the Spider gang are the ones who killed her’?”

“Maybe not be so blunt…” Miltiades added nervously. “But we have to say something. With everything else going on… the last thing she needs to worry about is us.”

Melanie sighed again, her face dropping into her hands. “Alright… just… give me a minute to mentally prepare.”

Miltiades nodded and reentered. Ruby hadn’t moved, and her mood hadn’t improved either. She looked up, quickly noting that Miltiades was alone. “So she is mad at me…”

“No, it’s just a difficult subject,” Miltiades assured. “She just wants a minute to compose herself.”

Ruby nodded. Miltiades sat back on the edge of the bed, the anticipation for the coming conversation raised her nerves as well.

All the pair could do was stay silent while they waited. And waited. And waited… Eventually, Ruby broke the silence, “did she say how long she would take?”

“No,” Miltiades shook her head, “but it shouldn’t have been this long…” The timid twin slowly stepped back out onto the balcony. The empty balcony. Instead of Melanie, there was only a piece of paper pinned to railing where she had been a moment before.

“Oh no…” Miltiades bolted over to the paper. Reading it made her heart drop. She gazed hard into the darkening surroundings as dusk turned to night. “MELANIE!”

The shout had Ruby dashing out onto balcony. “What’s wrong?” Ruby’s trained eyes were distracted a glint on the balcony floor. She knelt down to pick up a tranquilizer dart. She stood back up and turned to Miltiades. “Where’s Melanie?”

Miltiades didn’t speak, she only held out the paper. A note signed with the image of a spider.

Miltiades Malachite,

The Spider’s Web

One hour

Bring the redhead

---

Ruby and Miltiades gathered the others in the common room to update the lot. Nora and Ren looked concerned. Jaune looked angry. Qrow was conspicuously absent.

“Why on earth would they do this?” Nora asked after the explanation.

“I don’t know,” Miltiades answered.

“Are you certain?” Ren followed up. “The two of you have been nervous since we got to the city.”

“Does this have anything to do with what you two wanted to talk to me about?” Ruby tacked on.

Miltiades bit her lip. “We do have a… past, with the Spiders. But that’s all it is! The past!” she quickly assured. “I really don’t know why they would attack us now! They have no reason too,” Militades turned to her girlfriend before adding, “I promise.”

“And what about the part where they want Ruby to come?” Jaune pointed out. “That Tyrian guy wanted to kidnap Ruby. What if this is about our enemies?”

“We need Qrow,” Nora added.

“But where is Qrow?” Miltiades questioned.

It was Ruby’s turn to sigh heavily. “If he’s not back already, he’ll be no help by now.”

“We have to do something!” Miltiades urged. “What will they do to her if we don’t show up!?”

“So what, the five of us just go our own? To face Mistral’s most powerful street gang?” Jaune shook his head.

“And why not!?” Nora jumped up. “Just a week ago we killed a massive, terrifying Grimm no one else had ever even seen before! We can handle a few thugs!”

“I… wasn’t serious, Nora,” Jaune clarified.

“Well I was!” Nora stood her ground.

“We needn’t fight,” Ren pointed out. “We merely need to secure Melanie and escape.”

“But not fighting is boring,” Nora whined.

“Nora,” Ren lightly scolded.

Ruby crossed her arms. “Miltia is right, though. We have to do something. And Qrow’s not gunna be able to help, so it has to be us.”

Jaune groaned. “This is a bad idea. But I don’t think we’re gunna find a better one, so… let’s go.”

---

It didn’t take long to find The Spider’s Web. It was a bar in one of the city’s lower tiers, mainly populated by people who had no where else to go and staffed by the Spider Gang itself. It was more a base of operations hidden in plain sight rather than an actual drinking establishment. A fact made all the more clear by the small army of people guarding the entrance as the group approached.

A girl near the front took a step forward to greet them. “You can stow the grimaces, we just wanna talk.”

“Talk!?” Miltiades shouted, “and what, kidnapping my sister was a polite invitation!?”

“Would a cordial letter have convinced you to come?” The girl pointed out. “Look, we don’t want a fight. You’ll all be free to go after my boss has said her piece. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you’ve ever been a scout,” Jaune shot off.

The girl gave him an amused look. “I bet that sounded a lot more macho in your head, huh? But I get it.” She turned to Ruby, “as a show of good faith, we’ll even let you keep your weapons. But only you two are coming in, and after my boss says her piece this will all be over. No bloodshed.”

“You’ll think we’ll let you just separate us!?” Nora shouted.

The girl rolled her eyes. “I think you don’t have much room to negotiate. We’ve been generous enough letting you keep your weapons. You want the girl back, these are rules.”

Ruby thought for a moment before speaking up. “Two questions.”

“Can’t promise I’ll answer, but go ahead,” the girl conceded.

“Do the names Cinder or Tyrian mean anything to you?” Ruby asked first.

The girl flashed a confused look. “No?”

“And Salem?” Ruby questioned next.

“Isn’t that a movie character?” The girl responded, scratching her head.

Ruby searched the girl’s eyes for any hint of a lie, and found none. “Alright, we’ll follow your rules.”

“Are you sure, Ruby?” Ren asked.

“Just be ready,” the young leader told them. “If you so much as hear a plate drop, all bets are off.”

“We’ll be sure to give the clumsy waitress the night off,” the girl joked. “Come on, you two.”

---

Miltiades and Ruby were led into bar. It was full of Spider gang members, barring one familiar figure seated at a table near the back wall. “Melanie!”

The captured twin spun around at the sound of her name. “Miltia? Ruby? What are you two doing here?”

“Getting you, of course!” Miltiades hugged her sister as though she would vanish again if she let go.

The formally trained Ruby was the one to ask, “are you okay?”

“A little lightheaded from whatever they shot me up with,” Melanie answered. “Other than that, they’ve been treating me surprisingly well. But how did you two find me?”

“We were invited,” Melanie told her. “Apparently, the boss wants a word.”

“With us and Ruby?” Melanie found it hard to believe. “Why?”

“‘Why’ is a good question,” Ruby crossed her arms. “For example, ‘why’ do you two have a ‘history’ with a gang?”

Melanie’s fists clenched. The softer hearted Miltiades once again had to pick up the slack. “Our mother was a big player in Mistral’s underworld. The Spider’s were her lifelong enemies.”

“You told Yang you didn’t get involved in stuff like that,” Ruby reminded them.

“And we don’t!” Miltiades assured.

“When we were children, we didn’t know any better,” Melanie explained. “As we grew older, we realized we didn’t like watching over our shoulders all the time. People around us were constantly being hurt.”

“Or doing the hurting,” Miltiades added.

Ruby’s stance softened as she took in the story. “So… you two moved to Vale alone… and a moment ago you said ‘was’ when talking about your mom…”

“She disappeared,” Melanie elaborated. “Around the same time, the Spider’s started combing the streets. They were even spotted in the upper tiers, all the way up to the academy. We didn’t so much move to Vale as we escaped there.”

“We didn’t want to believe the rumors at first,” Miltiades picked up. “But the longer without so much a letter… it’s pretty obvious what happened.”

“I’m disappointed, girls. I thought I taught you better…”

The voice made the twins freeze. Ruby turned a curious eye to the source. A broadly built woman stepped out of the back room wearing a simple yet clearly expensive ball gown with open shoulders showing a spider tattoo on one of them. She approached the table with a wide smirk on her face. “Always confirm the body.”

The spell broke, and Melanie leapt up from her seat with an angry “You!?”

The woman let out a single chuckle. “Me.”

Ruby was utterly lost. “Who?”

Miltiades finally unfroze herself, though still couldn’t tear her eyes away from the Spider’s boss. “That’s…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.

The woman turned to Ruby to introduce herself. “My friends call me Lil’ Miss. These two, however, call me ‘mother’.”

---

The awkward silence after that little reveal persisted long enough for everyone to be seated and served surprisingly well made food. Only the mother touched their dish. The girls were either feeling to awkward (Miltiades), too angry (Melanie), or just too confused (Ruby) to think about eating. “Well, it’s not going to bite you,” the mother Malachite chuckled. “Eat up!”

“Why?” Melanie asked.

“What else do you do with food?” Lil’ Miss joked.

“I mean, why are you here?” Melanie’s hand slammed the table. “Why gather us? Why… just why!?”

“I heard you were in town,” Lil’ Miss told her, “and I missed my girls! I am sorry about the methodology, but I knew you two wouldn’t trust a Spider’s courier.”

“Did you really think that we would just treat this like a happy family reunion?” Melanie scoffed.

The mother slowly lowered her fork. “Perhaps that is a little optimistic of me. Very well, I’m sure you have questions.”

“Why did you never tell us you were alive?” Miltiades jumped in right away.

“Did you think it was a secret you two wanted out?” Lil’ Miss asked in turn. “My disappearance was part of an elaborate plan to take control of the Spiders. I launched an attack, then vanished. The spread themselves thin trying to follow every rumor I planted.” She smirked, “too thin. Next thing they knew their leadership was gone and it was either join me or join them.”

Ruby shuddered at the implication.

“Anyways,” Lil’ Miss continued, “one of those false rumors reached your own ears. By the time the plan was finished, you two had already left. Like I said, I knew you wanted out, so I let you be. I figured contactin’ you would only complicate your lives in ways you were tryin’ to escape.”

Melanie scoffed again. “Are you seriously trying to say you let us think you were dead because you cared?”

“I resent that accusation,” Lil’ Miss frowned. “I may not have been the best mother to you girls, but you are my flesh and blood. How do you think you got that job with Junior, hm? After everyone else turned you down, somehow the less-reputable man was the one eager to hire you?”

“I thought it was because of his nature he took a chance on us,” Miltiades admitted.

“Well, I couldn’t order him to take you in,” Lil’ Miss clarified, “but he did hear one hell of a recommendation.”

“And you’ve been keeping an eye on us ever since?” Melanie questioned.

“Of course,” Lil’ Miss nodded. “It broke my heart when Beacon fell. With the communications down, I couldn’t check up on you. I was worried sick. When a Spider spotted the three of you in the markets, I knew I had to see you.”

“The three of us?” Ruby caught.

Lil’ Miss’s smile returned. “What mother isn’t interested the person that captures their children’s hearts? Circumstances aside, it is nice to finally meet you, Ruby Rose.”

“Um, it’s nice to meet you too?” Ruby returned unsurely.

“I’m sure it isn’t, but I appreciate your kindness,” Lil’ Miss responded honestly. “I just hope you’re treating my girls alright.”

“Better than you ever did,” Melanie jabbed.

Lil’ Miss frowned once more. “I suppose I do deserve that one. I told myself I was doing it so you two wouldn’t struggle in life. I didn’t see how it was affecting you in the then and there.”

The topic ran dry, and the awkward silence returned. “Are you going to eat?” Lil’ Miss eventually asked.

“Do we have a choice?” Melanie asked.

Lil’ Miss sighed. “You can leave anytime you want.”

“Good,” Melanie stood.

“But please,” Lil’ Miss insisted. “Just humor me. One meal with my daughters…”

Melanie only stopped to spare her mother a dirty look before continuing to the door.

“Wait!” Ruby called out.

Melanie stopped. “You’re going to defend her? She’s a crook, Ruby, you basically just heard her admit to killing people!”

“Well, I know if my mom came back to life I wouldn’t care what she’s been doing the last ten years,” Ruby pointed out. “Well… I mean I would, but… you know what I’m saying.”

Miltiades shook her head. “Your mother was a saving people by day, baking cookies by night super-mom. Ours isn’t exactly in the same league.”

“But…”

“Ms. Rose,” Lil’ Miss interrupted. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but the girls are right. I only have myself to blame for their opinion of me.” She stood to face Melanie eye-to-eye, “but if you ever change your minds, I’ll be right here.”

Ruby frowned. She couldn’t say she understood, but she knew it wasn’t her choice.

“C’mon,” Miltiades took their girlfriend’s arm to guide her out. “We have people waiting for us anyways. I’m surprised Nora hasn’t already started breaking legs.”

The scene in front of the bar hadn’t changed much, an eerily still standoff with all people in the same places as a half an hour ago. “See?” The girl guard from before spoke to Jaune, “your friends are safe.”

“What happened?” Jaune asked the three of them.

The twins stayed silent. Ruby only responded with a, “just… don’t ask.”

Jaune was perplexed, but more than that he was happy that his friends were safe, so he took the advice and didn’t question it.

---

When the group got back to the hotel, they were greeted by the sight of a drunk Qrow and a farmhand with familiar eyes. “Where the hell have you all been!?” Qrow slurred.

“Where were we? Where were you!” Jaune countered. “We coulda used your help two hours ago!”

“I…” Qrow started firmly before a grin spread across his drunk face, “…found him.”

“Found who, the kid?” Nora asked.

“I found him…” Qrow chuckled and then practically cheered, “I found him!”

“He’s talking about me,” the kid confirmed.

“And you are?” Jaune questioned.

“Well, you might this hard to believe, but in a way… I am-”

“Nope,” Ruby interrupted, b-lining toward the farmhand. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” She repeated the word until she reached the boy and planted her hand over his mouth. “We have had a very long night. Some,” she gestured to the twins, “longer than others. I don’t think we’re ready for yet another head-spinning revelation, so please, is there any way this can wait for tomorrow?”

The boy looked from side to side, as though listening for something, before slowly nodding.

“Thank you!” Ruby sighed in relief. “Girls, let’s go cuddle.” Melanie opened her mouth, only to be cut of as well, “and before you say you’re not in the mood, I remind you that I am an expert in cuddles, and after that, you two definitely need some.”

Melanie chucked and smiled. “I was going to say cuddles sound nice,” she assured. The twins followed Ruby upstairs, finally, to some proper peace and quiet.

---

A few days later, Lil’ Miss was starting her day with the newspaper. She read about how a group of faunus straight from Menagerie stopped the White Fang from carrying out a terrorist attack on Haven Academy. She also knew Ruby, and by extension her daughters, had business in Haven that night. She wondered if the two events were connected.

As she mused over the printed word, a customer entered her bar. A giant monster of a man, tanned, and with rather magnificent mutton chops. “Looking for information?”

“People,” the man corrected in deep tones. He tossed forward a few pictures. Lil’ Miss was an expert in hiding her emotions, which came in handy as she recognized the people in an instant. Ruby Rose and the people she was travelling with.

“Come back in a day or two,” Lil’ Miss told him.

“A day or two?” The man questioned.

Lil’ Miss shook her head. “There are a lot of people in Mistral. I only keep eyes on the important ones. These people are not important. It will take me time to gather the info, but trust me, I will find them.”

“Very well. Two days.” The man left without another word.

The same girl that traded barbs with Jaune a few days before turned to Lil’ Miss. “I assume we won’t be telling him they’re headed for Atlas?”

“Of course not,” Lil’ Miss answered. “But we have two days to make a believable lie. I hear Vacuo is nice this time of year.”

“People don’t like being sold false info,” the girl pointed out.

“Then we won’t sell it,” Lil’ Miss nodded. “We don’t need his money anyways. We just need to steer him clear of my girls. Make sure there’s room for error in the info packet, just in case.”

“Clever, ma’am. I’ll get right to it.” The girl left to perform her duties.

Lil’ Miss looked back down to the pictures, eyes passing over her daughters in turn before settling on Ruby. “What kind of enemies do you have, Ms. Rose? It’s up to you to keep my daughters safe. I hope you’re up to the task.”

---

I understand I just implied something that has to potential to cause much larger changes to RWBY's narrative. That realization, that Lil' Miss might not want to endanger her children, is precisely what I wanted to acknowledge here. However, I have neither the creativity nor the investment to follow a full fic exploring those changes. So I apologize, but this will remain a one-shot.

[scarletosprey]

Fanfic

Harry finally becomes a true Weasley after marrying the love of his life-Ginny, well she is the only person who is suitable for him....or is she?

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

Who does he likes the most?

Ron stumbled into Burrow’s kitchen scowling. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen for breakfast. Bill was sitting beside Charlie. Mr Weasley had left early for ministry. Percy was also there who has returned after the public announcement of the resurrection of Voldemort. He had begged for forgiveness to his family. His parents had readily forgiven him, but the siblings were still sore to him sometimes. Mrs Weasley was busy making breakfast for everyone. Only Harry and Ginny was absent from the kitchen.

Ron groaned and flopped on a chair.

 “Oh you are up dear, What would you like for breakfast? ” Mrs Weasley asked him.

 “I don’t think I can eat anything right now.” said Ron in a disgruntled voice.

 Every single person’s head snapped at him at his statement.

 “Ron are you all right”, Hermione asked bewildered. Cause Ron can stop doing anything but eating.

 “Are you ok? You or not sick are you?” Mrs Weasley started fussing over him, checking his head for temperature.

 “Did you heard what I heard dear Georgie!” Fred exclaimed with a mock panicked look

 “Oh, surely Freddie” George replied, copying the look of his twin.

 “Dear Ronnikins denied the food…the food.” 

 “Next thing we know will be Malfoy kissing our shoes.” 

Everyone else would have laughed at twins banter if they weren’t busy deducing reason behind Ron’s denial for food.

 “Stop it you two. After seeing your best mate and sister eating each other’s face off –first thing in the morning, anyone will lose their appetite.” Ron said Scowling

 Harry and Ginny had got together after Harry arrived at Burrow two weeks ago. He had realized his feelings for her during the end of his fifth year. She helped him through his grief for the loss of Sirius. He has confessed his feelings to her before it would have been too late as she has mentioned something about Dean Thomas on a return train ride. Ginny waved his concern. She told him that she had said that to piss-off Ron because he was acting like a overprotective git. They were together since then. Everyone was happy for the couple. Except for Ron, as he was having difficulty accepting the fact that his best friend likes his younger sister in that way. He always made the gagging sound even if they just held hands. Ginny was getting irritated by his behaviour. And now he has seen his baby sister and best mate snogging first thing in the morning.

 Mrs Weasley heaved a sigh of relief after hearing that nothing was wrong with his health.

 Hermione rolled her eyes. She had had this conversation with Ron many times. Many times she had to distract Ron when an argument seemed rising between him and Ginny.

 “Honesty Ron you’re just overreacting.” She said throwing him an irritated look.

 But Weasley brother’s faces were contorted.

 “Well we’ll just have to accept this fact.” Bill said acting as mature big brother all though he didn’t like the mental image of his sister snogging Harry.

 “I knew she had a crush on him but never thought Ginny could date him. It was just silly fangirl crush actually.” Charlie said thoughtfully

 “True, but she matured.” Hermione said catching everyone’s attention

She continued, “Ginny initially had that fangirl crush but she grew out of that. she even dated one other guy, that’s when she started seeing the real harry. Harry needs someone who can see him as harry as a real person and not as some hero.

 Everyone just stared at her.

 Fred and George had to my comment after such thought-full explanation-so they did,

 “Besides he just loves Weasleys” said Fred.

 “Just can’t resist the Weasley charm.” George said, merrily tucking into his breakfast.

 Hermione rolled her eyes smiling fondly

 “And that’s why he doesn’t have any other options. There aren’t many Weasley girls. Ginny is the only girl born in seven generations in Weasley family.” Bill mused out loud.

 “He doesn’t have many options cause he is walking straight.” Fred huffed.

 “If only he swung another way he would have had six options to choose from.” said George.

 “And he would have chosen me seeing that I am his favourite.” Fred said and continued eating.

 “Excuse me we both are his favourite, so why would he choose only you?” George asked crossing his arms in front of his chest.

 “Because I am a most handsome twin, everyone knows that.” Fred said that as if stating obvious.

 George was about to restore but Bill cut in.

  Bill brushed his ponytail before looking up at them and saying, “If we are going on looks then sorry brothers I think I am most handsome Weasley. So he would have chosen me.” 

  “You see we are talking about a boy here and seeing that I am one who is into a boy, his natural choice should be me.” Charlie stated matter-of-factly.

 “But we are speaking hypothetically. It is not important whether you are gay or not.” Percy waved away Charlie’s argument.

 “Percy shut up if you don’t have any valid argument. And he would never choose you so shut up.” Charlie glaring at Percy.

 “Of course it is a valid argument and how would you know that he wouldn’t choose me,” Percy asked him.

 “Why dear brother”-Fred

 “Want to choose one all for yourself.”-George said smirking at Percy, causing him to sputter incoherently.

 “As if he has any chance.” It came from Ron, who was silent during the argument.

 Percy raised his eyebrow and said “why not? Then tell Ron who has a chance with Harry.”

 “Yes you are his best friend you will be able to judge precisely.”- Bill

 Ron stared at his brothers as if they are small children and he is teaching them two plus two is four and said “Of course it would be me. I am his best friend after all. I know him better than any of you. And if you had forgotten I am the one whom he had rescued from the black lake during the second task in Triwizard tournament which means I am the person whom he will miss the most.”

 Everyone was quiet for a minute. Then Charlie exclaimed suddenly “We need a fair judge.”  

 Everyone nodded in agreement.

Fred scanned the table. His eyes stopped on bushy-haired girl and his lips turned into an evil smile.

 “Dear Hermione you are looking magnificent today.” said Fred.

 “Yes absolutely gorgeous.” George continued knowing what Fred was trying to do.

 “Stunning”

 “Charming”

  “Ok ok shut up, I am not judging which Weasley boy has a chance with Harry Game.” Hermione said frowning at them.

 “Come on Hermione, you would be the perfect judge. You are his best friend and you are not competing either.” said Ron in an attempt to convince her, hoping that she would be partial to him..

 “Competing, honestly Ronald.” Hermione said exasperated.

  Harry and Ginny entered the kitchen. No one noticed them except Hermione as they had resumed their previous argument.

 “What’s going on?” Ginny asked piling food on her plate.

 “Ah! Just the man we wanted to see.” said Charlie looking happily at Harry.

 “Go on, tell them, Harry, you would choose me upon them any day,” Ron told Harry passing him the butter.

 Harry was confused as to what was going on and seeing at Ginny she was in the same state as him.

 “Ron don’t pressure him, let him decide for himself,” Bill told Ron glaring at him.

 “Harrykins just tell them I am most handsome and close the topic.”-Fred

 “First of all we look alike and why you when we have already decided that we both are his favourite.” George turned to Fred frowning.

  Charlie growled at them. “Will you just stop praising yourselves.” 

 “Everyone be silent. Let us ask Harry what he thinks.”-Percy said solemnly.

 Harry was now extremely confused. Were they fighting over him? No, they won’t do that, would they? Well, they were Weasleys and they can do absolutely anything. He had had the first-hand experience at that. He shot an enquiring look at Hermione. She was trying hard not to laugh at them ….or him.

 “Alright shut up and speak one by one.” Ginny said over the raised voices.

 “Ginny we were just wondering that who would Harry chose among us if he swung the other way,” Bill stated calmly

 Harry and Ginny kept staring at them until Ginny burst out laughing. That set Hermione on laughter fit. Harry can’t understand what they were finding amusing in this situation where he felt more and more uncomfortable by passing minute.

  “This is serious Ginny,” Ron said sending her irritated look.

 Still chuckling Ginny said, “Of course it is Ron.” Then she turned to Harry and asked him managing a straight look “What do you think Harry? Who would you dump me for?”

 Harry let his head fall on the table with a groan. Still, he could hear the boys arguing and girls laughing their heads off.

 Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen listening to the bickering of her children and honorary children.

 “What’s the racket?”

 “Mum…Your sons are trying to steal my boyfriend.” Ginny managed to tell between her laughs.

 “Boys leave the poor boy alone. I have told you not to threaten him.” Mrs Weasley scolded her son. 

 “We are doing nothing like that.”-Bill

 “Then what are you on about.” Mrs. Weasley asked narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

 All boys looked at each other, trying to come with reasons to tell their mother.

 “Mrs Weasley they were doing quite the opposite. They were fighting for…err…what can we say…Harry’s affection.” Hermione told her looking in amusement.

 In the meanwhile, Harry had gulped down his breakfast. He stood up thanked Molly and slowly walked towards the kitchen door.

  Ron saw him and said loudly ”Harry at least answer us.”

 But had leapt in the run towards backyard already.

 “I think he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone by choosing me.” Fred stated and started the argument once again.

[floral-and-fine]

La Doular Exquise part 2

Mycroft Holmes x female reader

Greg Lestrade x female reader

Part 1

Summary: Greg Lestrade is in a new relationship with y/n, and to everyone, they appear very happy together and very much in love. Surprisingly, Mycroft finds himself longing for something similar. 

A/n: I on a roll with this fic! It’s been so long since I’ve been able to write like this, I hope it continues! Thank you @luna-xial​ for the help!

“Everything alright?” John asked Sherlock, as he came in after a quick shopping trip. Sherlock was still standing by the window staring down at the street, exactly where John had left him. 

Sherlock was oddly focused, considering they had no cases at the moment to work on. By now he’d usually be tearing the flat apart or putting more bullet holes in the walls out of boredom. 

“Saw Mycroft this morning,” he muttered, “something was off about him.”

“How could you tell?” John chuckled, setting the groceries down on the kitchen table. 

“He was nicer than usual, quieter too.”

John furrowed his brow, “what do you think it could be?”

“Not sure yet,” Sherlock answered, finally turning around, and taking a seat in his chair. “Never seen him like this.”

“You seem concerned,” John pointed out, putting away a few things in the fridge. “Are you worried about him?”

Sherlock scoffed, “Please, it’s Mycroft, I’m just surprised that he’s capable of feeling things…” He went quiet for a moment, “You don’t suppose he has feelings for someone do you?”

John shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t really picture him as the type.”

“Right,” Sherlock agreed. “It’s an absolutely ludicrous idea.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” John contended, sitting in his seat across from Sherlock. 

Unexpectedly, Sherlock broke out into a fit of giggles. “Could you just imagine?” He gasped, practically falling out of his chair. “My brother, Mycroft, with a wife? Or children?”

John tried to hold back his laughter as he pictured Mycroft married, little kids running around causing a ruckus. From what he knew about Mycroft, he really didn’t seem like the family man type. He barely seemed to tolerate his own parents. 

“What’s got you two in such a good mood?” Mrs. Hudson asked, carrying in a tray of tea over to the coffee table.

Sherlock sighed, catching his breath, “just imagining Mycroft in love, completely ridiculous idea isn’t it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Mrs. Hudson explained knowingly. “He seemed rather smitten by that girl.”

“What girl?” Sherlock questioned sitting up, completely surprised.

“That one that came with Lestrade on Christmas. Such a sweet girl... Could do Mycroft a lot of good having someone like her around.” 

Sherlock's face fell as he tried to recall Christmas Day, Mycroft did seem more at ease than usual, smiled more often. Sherlock crossed his legs, and put his hands together in front of him as he contemplated over what a peculiar situation his brother was in. 

.

.

.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, little brother?” Mycroft questioned, looking up from his computer with a quirk of his brow. It was a rare occasion for his brother to show up at his home unannounced or uninvited. “It’s not like you to drop by just for a visit.”

“It’s come to my attention that you’re interested in y/n l/n,” Sherlock stated getting right to the point.

Mycroft paused for a brief moment before answering, but it was just long enough for Sherlock to suspect that he was right. 

“And what gave you that idea?”

“The fact that you hesitated before answering,” Sherlock smirked. “I’m right then, aren’t I? You like her.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Don’t say such ridiculous things, Sherlock. Makes you sound ignorant.”

Sherlock frowned but continued to press on, “you’re right Mycroft, it is a rather ridiculous notion, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft warned, hoping he’d drop the subject. 

“Who would’ve thought you, of all people, would be susceptible to the charms of a goldfish,” Sherlock said, twisting Mycroft’s words against. “I thought caring wasn’t an advantage, Mycroft.”

“And what do you suggest I do about it?” Mycroft snapped, losing his patience. “Let’s say I do like her, what can I possibly do about it?”

Sherlock stood there speechless, truth is he had no clue what Mycroft could do about it. In fact, he himself had never been in this type of situation.

“She’s already with someone,” Mycroft said exasperatedly, staring at his little brother. He turned his attention to his desk with a solemn expression. “Even if she wasn’t, I know I’m not the kind of person she’s looking for. I’m not the relationship type.”

“That’s quite the predicament you have,” Sherlock said quietly, then a small smile formed on his lips. “Practically makes running a country look easy.”

Mycroft stifled a laugh and Sherlock chuckled, managing to ease the tension. 

With a drawn out sigh, Mycroft leaned back in his seat, “whatever this is, it’ll pass. Just a one time fluke, that’s all it is.”

Sherlock gave his brother a skeptical look, before seeing himself out. 

Days went by, then weeks, but Mycroft still couldn’t get y/n out of his head. He kept tabs on her, often checking her status on social media and such. 

The things he learned about her from different sources, only made him like her more. She spent most of her time outside of work at home, was an avid reader, and was quite clever and witty. 

He knew this wasn’t making things any better, but when he fought the urge to, all he ended up doing was thinking about her even more. 

On the rare occasion that Mycroft was home and not working, his mind would wander back to all those what-ifs. As much as he hated to admit, even if just to himself, Mycroft was well aware that he was lonely. 

.

.

.

After Mycroft had finished reading the paper at the Diogenes Club, he decided to go for a little stroll. 

The sky was partially cloudy, and the streets and sidewalks were crowded as usual. Suddenly, Mycroft spotted a familiar face walking towards him. He stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, waiting for y/n to get closer. 

Somehow she was prettier than he remembered, but she also seemed troubled. 

He could tell just by the way she carried herself, on Christmas she floated and flitted about like a butterfly, but today she trudged down the street like she was weighed down by some unseen burden.

“Y/n?” Mycroft called out somewhat softly at first, but she didn’t seem to hear him, worried she’d walk right past him, Mycroft tried again a little louder. 

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. “Mycroft! Sorry, I didn’t see you,” she explained, approaching him. “My mind was elsewhere.”

Immediately, Mycroft could tell she had been crying. But unlike Sherlock, he wasn’t going to immediately pry into her business and deduce why she was upset out loud. Instead, like a proper gentleman, he’d keep all his deductions to himself. 

Now, what could have her so upset? Work? No, it’s Saturday. A deceased family member? No, she’d be in even more distress if that were the case. 

Mycroft swallowed thickly when he realized it most likely had to do with her relationship with Lestrade. 

“Would you like to join me for tea?” Y/n offered, with a small smile, tearing Mycroft away from his thoughts.

“I-“ Mycroft quickly mulled over his options, considering all the repercussions, there were many reasons why spending time with her was a bad idea, however, none of those reasons were enough to persuade him. 

Mycroft nodded, “I’d like that.”

They started walking side by side towards the nearest tea shop.

“It’s been some time since I last saw you, Mycroft,” y/n said. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he answered, not really divulging any additional information. 

Y/n giggled to herself, she had already learned from the Christmas party that Mycroft wasn’t one for small talk so she wasn’t too surprised with his short answer.

For the rest of the walk, a comfortable silence fell between them. Mycroft appreciated that y/n wasn’t the type to chit chat just for the sake of noise, that she didn’t mind the quiet. 

An image formed in his mind of them sitting together on the couch, y/n leaning against him, as they both enjoy a quiet evening in. Both of them would be too engrossed in their books to bother with any talking, but still could appreciate being close to one another. 

Finally, they reached the tea shop and found a nice secluded table towards the back. 

“So how have you been?” Mycroft asked, trying to strike up a conversation now that they were somewhere quiet.

“I’m- I’m good,” y/n started but then frowned, her shoulders slumping as she looked up at Mycroft. “There’s no point in lying to you is there? You already know I’m not fine, huh?”

Mycroft nodded, “I could tell immediately when I saw your face.”

She groaned, “Do I really look that bad?”

Mycroft chuckled, “not many people are as observant as I am, I doubt anyone else has noticed.” 

A comfortable silence fell between them again. Mycroft watched carefully as y/n prepared her cup of tea to her liking. While he wouldn’t bother learning this about most people, he figured knowing this could work to his benefit in the future. 

She carefully took a sip, her eyes filled with worry.

“Would you like to share what’s troubling?” Mycroft offered. 

She bit her lip, trying to decide where to start. "Last night, I mentioned to Greg how I'd like to get married one day. Not that I was hinting at it or anything, it's still far too soon to even think about that. But he freaked out over it."

Y/n sighed rubbing her forehead, "He went on a rant about how he'd never make that mistake again. That getting married was the worst decision he ever made. I know that his marriage ended badly, but I didn't think it ruined the whole idea of it… he even said that he doesn't want any children either." 

Mycroft could tell it was hurting her to even just talk about it.

"I've always wanted to be a bride, to make that kind of promise with someone I love. I know it seems silly, that couples can stay together and be happy without having to be married, but I can’t seem to let it go…” y/n sniffed, fighting back tears. 

Mycroft was surprised that the issue wasn’t related to Lestrade’s job. He was sure that the inspector’s erratic schedule was what was causing problems between them. 

“I’m sorry Mycroft, I'm just rambling now," she shook her head. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Mycroft glanced at her face, her eyes slightly bloodshot from crying so much, the last thing he wanted was to upset her more. “Not sure if I’m the best person to ask.” 

“I’d still like to hear your opinion on it,” she insisted, looking at him wide-eyed.

Mycroft nodded, setting his cup of tea back on the saucer, trying to choose his words wisely. “I’m afraid my point of view is rather limited on the subject, but inevitably I think the relationship is bound to come to an end no matter what you decide to do now.” 

He paused, fiddling with his napkin for a moment before continuing. “I believe that even when two people truly care about one another, if they don’t want the same things from life, and their desires for whatever those goals are, is so strong that neither person bends, then it becomes rather painful for both parties involved,” he explained. “Eventually, somewhere along the line, they’ll be led down separate paths.” 

“So what you’re pretty much saying is that Greg and I will most likely break up eventually, even if it's not now,” y/n reiterated as she processed what Mycroft was telling her. 

“What I’m saying is, are you willing to give up what you want out of life for him? Give up on the idea of marriage and children?” Mycroft elaborated, adding more sugar to his tea. “Likewise, is Lestrade willing to change his mind for you? For the two of you to be happy someone has to give up.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes downcast, quickly she wiped away a few stray tears. “What would you do?”

“Depends,” Mycroft started, “Despite what people think of me or how I may appear, I usually find myself to be the compromising type, at least for those precious few who I care about."

“I think I understand,” y/n murmured.

Mycroft felt a pang of guilt in his chest, he was being completely honest with his answers, but he still felt like the guilty party, as though he was intentionally sabotaging her and Lestrade. 

Y/n gently laid her hand on Mycroft’s, “Thank you, Mycroft for sharing your insight. It was very helpful.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” he half smiled, hoping he didn’t make things worse.

As they were about to part ways, Mycroft pulled out a business card from his jacket pocket, and quickly jotted a phone number on the back. “If you ever need anything,” he explained, handing her the card. “That’s my number.”

Mycroft’s brow furrowed, as he felt his stomach flutter. He was excited, confused, uncertain, but most of all hopeful. Perhaps, he could attain that life he pictured with her, in time. 

For the rest of the day, Mycroft kept a close eye on his phone. Part of him felt ridiculous, constantly checking every few minutes. 

But as he was getting ready to turn in for the night, he noticed his phone light upon the nightstand. Checking the message, a smile formed on his lips. 

‘Hi, It’s y/n. I just thought you should have my number as well. Good night, Mycroft!’

Quickly, he replied wishing her good night as well. Mycroft chuckled, this was a start at least. 

[katelynn-a-fan]

Somewhere Over the Rainbow: Chapter 6

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Summary: Remus has done as best as he could for the child. Now he has to get back to Patton to show him what happened. And perhaps... he was feeling a guilty for leaving Patton hanging. Perhaps.

Word count: 4.4k (4377)

Warnings: Remus type imagery, mention of throwing up, exhaustion

The smell of hospital cleaner invaded Remus's nose and spread through his senses. The more Remus breathed it in, the more Remus was filled with the stench of cleanliness.

Pretty soon it was as if his very blood was full of cleaner, and Remus grimaced at the sickeningly clean sensation that it reminded him of. He only suffered through being clean when he had to sterilize between treating patients when their lives and his job were potentially on the line. 

He was a bastard, not an idiot.

And that was when he remembered he actually had a face… and a job.

It should’ve been odd that he had forgotten he had a face, but right now his clean senses were telling him to try to create a new mess by evicting the contents of his stomach. Or maybe that was just because of the smell and how it turned his stomach into a tumultuous sea of stomach acid rolling around his gut. 

Remus’s face, what he could feel of it at the moment at least, turned to a very slight smile at the absurdity of how he was disgusted with cleanliness and satisfied with being dirty. To others he might have been absurd for desiring to be unhygienic, but he was Remus, and Remus could do whatever he wanted with his dislike of cleaning products because fuck societal standards of hygiene. 

Hygiene was optional, just like anything else.

With that, Remus’s nose full of cleaner smell finally gave him a different sensation, the sensation of something against his nose. A physical sensation.

That was new… ish…

Remus sniffed, the physical sensation of his nose expanded to (for some reason) bring in more of the scent around Remus. The movement created a tingling sensation down his face, like a thousand bugs were crawling in a wave down Remus’s body. In their wake, Remus was finally able to take stock of his body and where his limbs were where moments before the feeling was distant to him at best.

Having sensation down most of his body, he eventually deduced that he was at least standing, which was a feat considering whatever state he was just in. 

His forehead was resting on something smooth and as he was able to peel his eyes open for the first time since… whenever he had closed them.

Staring at a blank wall, Remus’s eyes threatened to close once again as 10 pound weights felt as if they were strapped to them.

This fogginess and lack of memories was growing old quick. Remus just wanted to remember and get on with it, but it was like he had a worm in his brain sucking out all of his most recent memories.

Except the worm had missed one memory, and Remus latched onto it like a man possessed as a grip on his arm tightened and he slowly registered it was his own grip on his arm.

A crystal clear memory broke through the fog, the image of a child with their front soaked in blood and his own hands pressing down on the wound. It nearly sent him reeling, but the memory led to others in his head. Patton opening the door, him walking up to the child and then panicking and rushing about to get the child to the car and then…

The memories of what happened after that crashed down all at once, everything blurring together until Remus found himself…

There.

Remus blinked away the memories as the direct realization he had left Patton in the waiting room to worry chilled his limbs. Memories of pranks some would say are cruel flitted through his mind only for a moment. This wasn’t one of his jokes; this was one of the scarce times he had unintentionally fucked up and fucked up bad.

He had to get to Patton.

Before he even registered he was doing it, he lurched forwards off of the wall, surprisingly keeping on his feet even as the world swam slightly. It only struck him after a few steps that he had no idea if he was going the right way.

Even when Remus looked up at the overhead signs that told him where he was, the word turned to fuzzy white inchworm-looking shapes in front of his eyes instead. 

The signs were useless inchworm farms, he didn’t need them. He knew the hospital like the back of his hand. It didn’t matter that his hand was slowly turning into a fuzzy blob as well, he could still navigate the hospital. Hand or no hand.

He wasn’t one to be discouraged by a fuzzy hand, so he blinked a couple of times and the hallway he was in resolved just enough so that could tell he had actually been going the right way.

Starting up down the hallway again, he swore someone was talking to him, but that was lost in the fog that still pulled his limbs down. The fog was like physical gravity laid on every inch of his limbs and he wished it wouldn’t hang on him so heavily, but no matter how much he mentally pleaded with it, it just hung on him like a snake who had sunk its fangs into something. 

The voice that might have been talking to him grew quieter and quieter with every step Remus took, so he was confident he could get back to Patton without a hitch now.

Shambling down the hallway, Remus had the presence of mind to wonder what in the heck he looked like walking down the hall. Did he look like a zombie with his body nearly skin and bones, and the skin and flesh starting to peel? Or those zombies that looked human until they noticed you and attacked? 

Whatever he looked like, it was enough to warrant a few passing concerned looks from anyone who caught his glance. And if they said anything, Remus again wasn’t paying enough attention to care about their words.

In any case, he ignored everything else that wasn’t important to continuing forwards and made his way in the twisting and turning halls back to the lobby.

Wonder how Patton had been holding up? Hope I haven’t left him in too dire of a strait. He is never too good about worrying. He’s even gotten me worried about him. Ha! If Roman were here, he’d never-

Remus stopped in his tracks. His thoughts cut off as something became lodged in his throat and his vision grew blurrier once again. Fists clenching tight, he screwed his eyes shut to stop the blurriness once and for all.

He couldn’t do that, not now. Remus didn’t have to think about that if he didn’t want to.

Now, he just had to think about getting to Patton.

Breathing in past the tight lump in his throat, Remus opened his eyes. The world was swimming even more now, like a swimmer who was trying to get away from a ravenous shark that would tear them limb from limb if the shark got them. 

Remus was close, he had to be. But time seemed to stretch into infinity with each step he took, and it was starting to get on Remus’s nerves. He wanted to do something nice for Patton for once and time was being mean and not playing fair! 

A dull throb of pain alerted Remus to the fact that he had been digging his nails into his arms without meaning to. He looked down to see thin crescent moons dug into his arm, and one was even lightly filled in with a bright red moon of blood as well. Amusement teased his face, though for what reason he was amused even Remus was in the dark about it. Perhaps it was just the weight on his limbs talking, making him as delirious as a man in the desert finding an oasis that likely wasn’t there.

His ears suddenly perked up, the sounds of someone familiar filtering through the hallway out of what was a bigger, more echoey space. The lobby was just around the corner.

Taking his cue, he sped up his efforts forwards, ignoring the fact his limbs were dragging more and more heavily the closer he got to the sound. 

The sound changed as he pushed forwards faster and faster, but Remus wasn’t paying attention to that as he gripped the wall that had come up to greet him. Remus wasn’t in the mood for a chat with the wall, so he pushed himself off the wall only to stumble into a gurney that made him cringe at the clatter it made. 

Gurney forgotten the moment he looked away from it, Remus’s vision immediately zeroed in on Patton. There were other vaguely familiar people there, but Remus could only see Patton. 

Patton was tired, bags under his eyes and hair sticking out a bit, but he looked better than Remus had been worried he was doing. Remus’s heart jumped in joy and relief at the sight of him.

He desperately pushed himself away from the other wall that came to say hello to him. The world was angry and swam around him like a speedboat now, and Remus had only one thought in his mind.

“Patton.” Remus croaked, a vague surprise rising in him at how hoarse his voice was.

And then the floor abruptly came up to his face and tried to slap him.

It was very rude of the floor to do that to be frank, that was what ran through Remus’s head in that moment as his body crept closer and closer to the ground.

However, something stopped the floor’s hand in its swing as a pair of warm arms caught him. 

Had he been cold all this time? Remus had no clue, but he had warmth wrapped around him as consciousness began to flee further and further from him.

Words were uttered above him, but just like his trek down the hallway, the words weren’t important. Patton was okay, and that was what was important. 

Remus let go of the last thread of consciousness, content that Patton was okay.

That was until the sounds above him filtered back in, forcing themselves into Remus’s consciousness like a reverse alien chest burster.

“-mus. Remus! Please wake up! You… I can’t…” Remus’s stomach dropped as Patton’s voice entered his ears, on the verge of sobbing.

Fuck. Fucky sloppy fuck.

Remus couldn’t leave Patton like this. He was worrying Patton again, the one thing he didn’t want. He… had to…

A ghost of a groan came from his lips as he forced himself to leap for the thread of consciousness, grabbing it as tight as a boa constrictor ready to devour its prey.

“Remus?” The disbelieving but hopeful sound of Patton above him had his hand squeezing a hand that was already in his. He was still awake damn it.

Putting more oomph in it this time, Remus parted his lips in a groan again. He had no clue what he was trying to say. Sorry? I’m awake? Poopy?

Whatever the case, he was able to part his eyes open as a surge of energy, probably from some good old adrenaline, swept through him. The shot of adrenaline even gave him enough strength to right himself a little, before that swimming world was back and forced him back on the ground again.

“Woah, hey Remus, you don’t have to get up just yet. You collapsed from what’s likely exhaustion. You feel really tired, right?”

Remus pursed his lips a little, his face scrunching up automatically as his ‘thinking face.’ 

Exhaustion? Was he exhausted? He… yeah, maybe? In any case, he was too tired to think too hard about it, so he nodded.

“Well before anything, we need to get you somewhere out of the way. Oh…” Patton’s voice grew quiet as Remus watched through cracked eyelids when he turned to someone he couldn’t see. “Can… we use this vacant stretcher? He’s just exhausted from everything this morning, from what I can tell, so he just needs it until he can get up again.”

A voice Remus recognized as Ava’s came from even further away, and though Remus couldn’t hear what exactly she said, Patton nodded and responded to her.

“Okay,” Patton looked down at Remus with a patient smile as he wrapped his arms more securely around Remus, the distant knowledge that Patton would’ve been the one who caught him finally registering in his brain. “Hey Remus, we’re going to get you on the stretcher okay? You’re not hurt from what we can tell, so we’re putting you on the stretcher because you don’t look like you’re in any state to walk.”

Remus would beg to disagree, but the feeling of multiple hands lifting him up prevented him from giving a proper rebuttal. He drifted a little as his body was lifted, the strange feeling of rising doing odd things to his sense of balance. Part of him found the addition of other hands odd, but that part of him was being smothered under the exhausted part of him.

He picked up a few words spoken around him here and there as the feeling of Patton’s hands gripping his returns. But the feeling that something was missing slowly spread through his gut as his mind drifted softly, he was oh so heavy and he just couldn’t keep his eyes open and something was probably wrong…

“What happened? I- we- We thought you-” A voice Remus knew he should know exactly who was speaking said, but it slid off of his groggy mind. He fought a little to stay awake, fighting the feeling pulling him down once again. Why couldn’t he decide whether he wanted to be awake or asleep? It was infuriating to say the least.

Whatever, it was just how it was at that moment.

Remus craned his ears to absently listen to what was said.

“Well, first things first, I’m fine. Please don’t worry. Second, try not to freak out or worry more about what I’m going to say.” Patton’s voice slowly edged into near panic, but a small squeeze from Remus on their clasped hands gave him pause. 

Managing to peel his eyes open a crack, Remus quirked the corner of his mouth at Patton. Patton, who had been looking at something out of Remus’s eyesight, smiled down at Remus gently. It was like Remus was sick and had woken up to someone caring for him when he thought he would deal with it alone. Except of course, he wasn’t sick, not with any ailment other than sleepiness, he hadn’t just woke up, unless he had slipped under and hadn’t noticed and… the last one was… technically true. Sort of.

Still, the sight was… comforting.

His body reacted without him, a sigh escaping his lips as Patton pushed back a single strand hair that had fallen into his face. Eyes slipping closed, Remus hummed softly as Patton’s hand retreated.

“It’s alright Remus, you can sleep if you want. You need it after working so hard, right?”

Had he worked hard? He didn’t remember, but with what he did remember he had to have worked hard, right?

Even though he didn’t completely believe it, Remus let his head bob up and down a few millimeters each way as his tongue was leagues heavier than it should’ve been. Patton was a lot smarter than him at the moment, so Remus took his judgement as what had likely happened instead.

Patton continued, thumb running over Remus’s distant knuckles. 

“Getting back to what happened, I had settled down on the couch with some hot chocolate as well as some cookies I had made,” Patton sounded apologetic about the cookies for some reason Remus couldn’t fathom. Cookies were cookies. What was wrong with that? “And that was when I heard a sound outside the front door. I thought at first it was someone trying to get in to rob the house and/or hurt me, so… I wasn’t prepared to see what was actually behind the door.”

Patton paused, and by his constricting grasp on Remus’s hand, he was likely trying not to cry. Remus hoped Patton had received Remus’s own squeeze in response, but if he did, he didn’t comment on it.

“I uh… had that vase that was in the living room as a weapon even though one of my crutches would’ve been a more solid thing to hit an intruder with, now that I think about it. In any case I uh, opened the door to face the ‘intruder’ only to find… a child on my front door step.”

Above Remus there were a couple of muted exhalations, like someone had been holding their breath for a long time. Patton didn’t slow down, though in fact he only just sped up.

“They had no coat, no gloves, and no shoes. Their limbs were nearly purple and blue from hypothermia and they were just so small-”

Patton's voice broke, jaggedly cutting off as Patton drew in a shuddering breath. Remus forced another hum, trying to sound as comforting as possible as he squeezed Patton’s hand as hard he dared. He hoped Patton got the message that he was trying to comfort him through the simple gesture.

In any case, Patton’s breathing slowly evened out again, his hand settling.

“I’m sorry… they… looked so young, like kindergarten or preschool at most and nearly a toddler at the least. I had to bring them inside, and I think I dropped the vase when I saw them? I… it’s still a bit of a blur.” Patton paused and gulped a little. “I… didn’t know exactly what to do at first, because I had no idea if I could just keep them at home because for all I knew the child could be okay without a hospital. So I uh… panicked a bit, I got my afghan cause they had likely been outside for long enough that they would need something incredibly thick and insulating to warm them up before. I didn’t even think to call Remus ‘cause he was a nurse until I don’t know how after and-”

Patton’s voice cuts off, and Remus was too out of it to do more than wonder why he had stopped and wait patiently for him to continue. He wasn’t crying, as Patton’s voice was relatively steady. After an amount of time that nearly bordered on concerning, Patton shifted slightly away from Remus, his hand nearly leaving Remus’s limp grasp.

Fluttering slightly, Remus’s hand nearly clawed at Patton’s arm before it hit Remus that Patton wasn’t fully pulling away, stopping just before Patton’s hand was out of Remus’s grasp. 

What’s… going on? Is… who…

“Thank you. It’s just… hard…”

This time another voice that was much less familiar to Remus soothingly comforted Patton.

“Hey, no pressure, you can just give us a brief overview of what happened after that. I don’t want you to make yourself panic, okay? We don’t need to know everything right now. Tell us at your own pace alright?”

Patton’s hand bobbed in Remus’s grip, giving the impression Patton was nodding against something, whatever it actually was was beyond Remus.

 As a tiny droplet of something fell onto Remus’s hand, Patton continued, his voice a bit more steady, if but a little smaller and quieter than before.

“Okay… uh… I....called Remus to come over and he of course came over. Together we found blood on the front of their shirt that I didn’t notice before and then we rushed the child to the hospital. I got stuck in the waiting room because I wasn’t a medical professional and I tried to stay awake for a bit in case Remus came back but I fell asleep at some point.”

“So Remus helped you?” The more familiar voice asked.

“Yeah, he is my friend, and he’s owed me a ton of favors by now and this for me expends all of them.”

A strange mix of emotion flows through Remus. His chest tightened, but there was a tiny spark of indignation in his gut as well and it all flowed together into a weird mire of confusion. 

At that point, Remus didn’t know why he was still awake. Patton had everything under control, even if there was something that didn’t completely add up, it was probably fine...

After that, everything got fuzzier and fuzzier, just as Remus was temptingly on the cusp of sleep that he had been so desperate for for the last… who knows how long. That was the moment when somehow every little thing he had missed fell into place like a giant thousand piece puzzle assembling itself and what was once a scattered mess in his head before finally came to make sense.

The collapsing in exhaustion, the hands of other people, the concerned tones of Patton’s voice, and the overwhelming feeling he was missing something super obvious and important. 

But the most important thing was… he recognized the voice that was talking to Patton. 

With that, he suddenly pounced on Patton, shifting his weight as fast he could to grip onto Patton, his slightly wrinkled shirt kneading under his grasp.

“Woah, Remus!” 

Remus held on for dear life to Patton as Patton also clung tightly back. Patton seemed afraid Remus would keel over again out of exhaustion, which could have been a possibility if not for Remus’s gaze searching his surroundings.

Looking through slitted eyes lids, Remus searched hard for who he had heard and quickly found him by his bright red coat.

Roman.

Roman was here.

He… Roman shouldn’t be there in the same room, not with him. With Patton, sure, Patton was his own person and could be in the same room with Roman, but not with Remus. 

Remus anticipated the same glare that always met him when he and Roman met face to face, but strangely there was none. Sure, Roman definitely didn’t look happy to see him as always, but he wasn’t scowling or anything like he usually did. In fact, Remus could dare say Roman looked… concerned?

“Wh- Wh-” Remus could barely speak, his words failing him as he looked back to Patton in confusion, but Patton was only looking at Remus in concern. Out of the corner of Remus’s eye, he saw that Janus was there as well, but that was merely a passing thought that quickly gave way to more confusion

“Hey, Remus. You don’t have to get up or talk, everything’s going to be taken care of. Alright?. Ava said she called for a doctor to talk about going to see the child as long as everyone followed the rules. But you look exhausted and I don’t want you to overexert yourself more than you have.”

And with that, the last key on Remus’s memories turned in the lock of his mind. What his exhausted mind had kept failing to remember and realize hit him at full force as the words soaked into him.

The child.

They were…

He had to show Patton. And fuck anyone if they tried to stop him.

Leaning forwards, Remus jumped haltingly off the bed, holding onto Patton for dear life as they both dangerously came close to falling over, but miraculously both of them managed to hold themselves so that neither fell.

Patton blinked in surprise, mouth opened to likely ask Remus what he was doing. But Remus wasted no time, he pulled on Patton’s arms firmly, leading Patton down the hall.

“Whoa Remus, did you hear what I said? I said a doctor was coming to escort us. I… Do you have the authority to even bring us? ‘Cause we are not their family and…”

If Patton said anything after that, Remus didn’t hear it as now he was intentionally tuning Patton’s words out because they were irrelevant. Patton had to see the child was okay so they had to go see the child now. It was only logical. Not that Remus was an expert in logic, mind you.

All Remus was focused on was tugging Patton down the hall. A slow smile grew on Remus’s face as it became easier and easier to bring Patton along. 

Patton gets to see them. He needs to see the child. Patton gets to see them. He needs to see the child. Patton gets to see them. He needs to see the child. 

The words went in circles in Remus’s head. One morphed into the next in an endless loop with each step Remus took.

Now in reverse, Remus brought Patton down the same path he had stumbled down minutes before, his memories complete, though he didn’t have to think about those now.

Remus only slowed when the room the child was in was in his sights. 

Patton had fallen silent by then. He wasn’t even trying to pull out of Remus’s grasp anymore. Patton wanted to check on the child as much as Remus did.

Remus grasped the doorway tightly as he swayed slightly, but he half-pulled Patton into the doorway to let him see.

The child was on a hospital bed, and somehow they looked even smaller than before. Remus hadn’t noticed that. But they had all the standard workup; an IV, a heartbeat monitor. Under the swanky hospital gown they had on, Remus knew there were bandages over the wound in the child’s stomach that he knew had been from… something that Remus couldn’t think of. They were so pale.

Snapshots of the others’ expressions caught Remus’s eye, even as the fuzziness was closing in again. Patton covering his mouth as tears pricked at his eyes at the sight of the child. Roman’s expression flipping immediately from confused and concerned to concerned and some emotion Remus couldn’t place. And lastly, Janus’s curious expression becoming one of horror.

Remus had no clue what he looked like. His face was probably mostly blank, but happy. That’s what he was right then. 

Happy.

Now that Patton was here with the child, exhaustion swooped over Remus faster than ever before. He had done his job. He… had done a good job. Like Patton said, he… did… good….jo….

And like that, Remus’s world went finally, blissfully black.