#stayed up way too late finishing this i die...

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Cross My Heart, I Didn't Love You

Bangchan x Gn!Reader

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The words left his mouth too easily. Too quickly. Too carelessly.

"I don’t feel that way about you."

There wasn’t a hesitation, not even a pause to consider the weight of what he was saying.

It was final.

A death sentence to the hope that had been blooming inside of you for years.

You knew you shouldn't have confessed. You knew, but knowing didn't stop the ache spreading through your chest like a wildfire you couldn't put out.

It took you a moment before you could swallow. Hard. "Oh."

Just that. Oh.

What else could you say?

You thought you'd cry, thought the ground would crack open and swallow you whole, but all you could do was stare at him.

At the face you had loved for so long.

The eyes that held galaxies but not you.

The lips that had spoken so softly to you, teasing you, laughing with you, making you believe- making you think - that maybe, just maybe, you had a chance.

Chan shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to-"

"You did," you cut in. Your voice was steady surprisingly, even though your world was crumbling. "You meant it. And that's okay. I just...I just needed to hear it."

Chan frowned, looking like he wanted to say something, but what was left to say?

What could he possibly offer you now?

Nothing much, if anything at all.

"We're okay?"

You nodded.

Chan couldn't think of anything so he blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

"Cross your heart?"

"And hope to die." You mumbled quietly, biting back the tears at the truth in those childish words.

You wanted to be swallowed whole. You felt humiliated.

But Chan couldn't do anything about that.

And you knew that.

So you did the only thing you could do.

You smiled. Forced. Hollow.

"It’s getting late. I should go."

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t reach for your hand or ask you to stay.

And that was how you knew.

There had never been anything to hold onto in the first place.

You didn’t cry until you were alone in your apartment, in the suffocating silence of a place that suddenly felt too big and too empty.

You had spent years orbiting around him, letting him be the gravity that pulled you in, and now- now there was nothing.

Just a vast, aching void where something warm used to be.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your phone, for the thread of messages filled with inside jokes, late-night ramblings, voice notes of him humming random melodies he was working on. You stared at his contact name, thumb hovering over the chat before you pressed down.

You’re still my best friend, right?

You deleted it before you could send it.

Because you already knew the answer he was going to give.

And a part of you realized that the answer he would have given, would just mess up your equation.

Chan...didn’t think much of it at first.

The confession, the way you left-

It was awkward, sure, but he figured things would go back to normal.

You were strong. Resilient.

You had always been able to brush things off, so he convinced himself you’d bounce back and your friendship would be back to normal.

But then you didn’t.

The next day, you didn’t reply to his texts.

The next week, you were suddenly "too busy" to hang out.

The next month, you started pulling away, and Chan- idiot that he was- thought it was just temporary.

That you just needed space.

Then came the excuses. The half-hearted responses. The messages left on read.

And for the first time, he started to feel something close to regret.

It hit him during one of the late nights at the studio, the kind of night where exhaustion blurred the edges of his thoughts, making everything feel heavier.

He had just finished mixing a track when he caught himself opening his phone, out of habit, scrolling to your contact.

He paused. The last message was weeks ago.

Hope you're doing okay. We should hang out soon. Miss you.

Unread.

Chan sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. He didn’t understand it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You two were supposed to laugh it off, move past it.

You two were supposed to still be us.

But you weren’t.

And he was starting to realize maybe that was his fault.

Maybe if I had tried explaining instead of just leaving Y/N to handle my rejection on their own...

He let himself fall back into his chair, staring at the ceiling.

A sick feeling settled in his stomach, twisting, tightening, but he shoved it down. He wasn’t sure why this was bothering him so much. You were his best friend. You had always been there, always been his safe place. He didn’t need you to love him like that. Why would you want someone like him to love you like that?

And why did the thought of you not loving him at all suddenly make it hard to breathe?

You forced yourself to move on. Or at least, you tried to.

It wasn’t easy. Not when everything reminded you of him. The coffee shop where you two used to sit for hours, him hunched over his laptop while you doodled on napkins.

The convenience store where he’d grab extra snacks just because he knew you’d steal half of his. The stupid, little things you hadn’t realized were stitched so deeply into your life until they were gone.

Until he was gone.

But what choice did you have? Staying in his orbit was only going to break you further, so you cut yourself free. It was the hardest thing you had ever done.

But it was also the only way you could survive.

Months passed.

Chan told himself he was fine. That you were fine.

But then, one night, he saw you.

Not through a screen. Not in passing. But there, across the room at a mutual friend’s gathering, looking different and yet exactly the same. Except this time- this time you weren't looking for him.

You weren't making a beeline to his side like you used to.

Instead, you were laughing at something someone else had said, eyes bright, lips curved into a smile that he used to think belonged to him.

And suddenly, he wasn’t fine.

He wasn't fine at all.

Because he realized, too late, that he had been wrong.

He did feel that way about you.

He had just been too blind to see it.

And now? Now you were gone.

Chan sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening around his drink as he watched you from across the room. He thought about going over, thought about what he could possibly say.

"Hey, remember when I said I didn’t love you? I think I lied."

He laughed bitterly to himself. Too late.

Too late for that.

He had told you he didn’t love you.

Cross his heart, he thought he didn’t.

But if that were true, then why did it feel like he was the one suffocating now?

<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3x<3

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

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[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Stardew Valley bachelors - NSFW Headcanons - part I

Alex

Despite what everyone might think, he’s a bit inexperienced.

He only had sex once before—with a girl he met during gridball practice.

It was in the locker room.

He was so nervous and didn’t enjoy it overall, so he decided not to do it again.

He probably feels guilty too because his granny told him he should do it with the person he intends to marry (or at least someone who truly means a lot to him).

So, it will take a while for him to be intimate with you.

But when it happens, it means he really loves you.

You might not get married, but he knows he wants to actually try and fight for your relationship to last as long as possible.

He’s very passionate.

A bit cautious at first, but over time, he becomes a gentle dom.

He LOVES to manhandle you—but always with care.

Loves to pamper you and praise you:

"Fuck, baby, you take me so well..."

Always wants to cuddle afterward.

So, he hates quickies.

"If we don't have time to cuddle, we don't have time to fuck properly, y'know?"

But he’d never admit it out loud.

He just wants to feel loved.

Always carries condoms with him—he ain’t risking a baby until you’re both ready.

Also panics when your period is late.

100% responsible king.

Shane

Oh, boy, let me tell you—this man IS experienced.

Back in his glory days, he had a lot of flings and relationships.

So yes, he knows his way around.

He wasn’t very horny before he met you.

But then you appeared like a beam of light, and suddenly, his life had meaning again.

It also helps that he thinks you’re hot as fuck.

Sex with Shane? Filthy.

He’d dom you hard… if he wasn’t so lazy.

So that being said—ride him, pls.

On the bed, on the couch, on the chair—doesn’t matter.

Get on top of him, and he won’t complain.

His hands still grip your hips, tho, guiding you up and down his cock.

Smokes while having sex.

Sometimes, he gets bored and starts thrusting up into you, your whines only making him go harder as he keeps you in place.

Not a fan of condoms.

"You know what else is 99% safe? My pull-out game."

But if you feel safer with a condom, he won’t tell you no.

Might jokingly complain about it, tho.

"I feel insulted, I really do!"

Secretly likes that he gets to finish inside and not worry.

Lowkey has a breeding kink.

He loves kids a lot and sometimes imagines a mini version of you running around.

But then post-nut clarity hits, and he realizes he can barely take care of himself, so a child is a big no-no.

However… if you’re on the pill and he can safely creampie you?

He’s officially dead and in heaven.

Sam

Before you did it, he told you things so filthy that you thought he was secretly a porn star.

All bark, no bite, though.

This boy? Never touched someone else before.

Probably the main reason he wanted to start a band was because he thought he’d pull.

Very shy at first.

Doesn’t even know where to put his hands.

But he learns fast.

And he wants to practice… a lot.

This boy is horny.

Like… all the time.

It’s not his fault you’re hot and that he wants to die between your thighs.

Obsessed with your body.

Prepare to have him teleport next to you whenever you change your clothes.

Loves to eat you out.

Ride his face, pls.

Tried to dirty talk once…

Cringed so hard he decided never to do it again.

But he likes to make you laugh tho.

Claims he can feel it when he's inside.

Clingy after sex.

He just wants to hold you, nuzzle into your neck, and stay there forever.

Always down for round two (or three.... or four...).

Even if he’s tired, he will try.

Sometimes he gets so into it he forgets to pull out.

(Yes, he panics after.)

[requinade]

je2ting

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘 max verstappen x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . max may not be an emotional guy, but he expresses his love and emotions in other ways, e.g.: sticking himself to you. ( 2.7k words )

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

The room was dark and quiet, the soft hum of the heater filling the air. You tiptoed into the bedroom, careful not to make too much noise, though you knew Max was already in bed. His tousled hair peeked out from under the blanket, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He wasn’t asleep, though—not really.

As you slipped under the covers, the bed shifted slightly, and Max immediately stirred. His arm reached out, and before you could even settle, he was tugging the blanket over you, ensuring it covered your shoulders and tucked around your body snugly.

“Too cold,” he mumbled, his voice low and raspy with sleep. He pulled you closer until your back was pressed against his chest. “Need you warm.”

You laughed softly, trying to shift to a more comfortable position, but Max groaned in protest. “No,” he whined, burying his face into your hair. “Don’t move. Just stay like this.”

“Max, I can’t breathe,” you teased, wiggling a little to free your arms.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled stubbornly, tightening his hold. His lips pressed to the back of your head, a soft kiss followed by a sigh of contentment. “Stay still, or I’ll die.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered, but you stopped moving. Max hummed in victory, his arms like a vice around you as he finally relaxed.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The kitchen smelled of garlic and fresh herbs, the comforting aroma wafting through the house as you stirred a pot on the stove. Max hovered nearby, his brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously chopped vegetables.

“Do you want these smaller?” he asked, holding up a perfectly diced carrot.

“They’re fine, Max. Really,” you assured him, smiling at his effort.

He nodded, setting the knife down to wipe the counter with a damp cloth. “What’s next? What else can I do?”

“Max, you’ve already—”

“I’ll stir the pot,” he interrupted, grabbing a wooden spoon before you could protest. He moved beside you, carefully mixing the bubbling sauce as if it were a high-stakes race strategy.

“Max, I can handle it—”

“No,” he said firmly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “You’re doing all the hard work. Let me do something.”

You shook your head, exasperated but endeared. When dinner was finished, Max ignored your protests and rolled up his sleeves to wash the dishes.

“You cooked; I’ll clean. That’s fair,” he said, turning on the faucet.

“Max, let me help—”

“Sit,” he insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument.

As you watched him hum softly while scrubbing plates, you couldn’t help but smile. He might not have been a chef, but he always found a way to show he cared.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The crisp winter air bit at your cheeks as you walked hand in hand with Max through the quiet park. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the frost-covered grass, but the chill was undeniable.

You shivered involuntarily, pulling your coat tighter around you. Max noticed immediately, his eyes darting to your face. Without a word, he pulled off his ice cap and gently tugged it over your head.

“Max, you’ll get cold,” you protested, reaching to take it off.

“Don’t,” he said softly, his hand catching yours. He adjusted the cap so it sat snugly over your ears. “I’ll be fine. You need it more.”

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer as you continued walking. His hand rubbed small circles on your shoulder, his warmth seeping into you despite the cold.

“You’re like my personal heater,” you teased, leaning into him.

Max smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Always,” he murmured.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The late afternoon sun bathed the patio in a golden glow, and you were perfectly content, stretched out in a chair with a book in hand. The quiet rustle of pages and the soft chirping of birds were the only sounds until Max plopped down beside you.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked, leaning into your side.

“Something you’d probably find boring,” you replied, not looking up.

Max pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Pay attention to me,” he said, his voice playful but laced with a hint of genuine need.

“I’m reading, Max.”

He groaned dramatically, reaching out to tug the book from your hands. “You’ve been reading for hours,” he whined.

“Max, it’s been twenty minutes!” you laughed, but he wasn’t deterred.

He kissed your hand, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips, each peck more insistent than the last. “Hi,” he murmured against your skin.

“Hi, Max,” you replied, finally looking at him.

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Much better.” He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist like a clingy cat seeking warmth and affection.

As you gave in and let your hand rest on his hair, Max sighed contentedly. “This is nice,” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

“You’re impossible,” you teased, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

And Max? He just grinned, completely at peace as long as he had you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his lips in a determined pout. “Come to Vegas with me,” he said, his voice tinged with a pleading tone.

You sighed, glancing up from your laptop where you were trying to finish some last-minute work. “Max, we’ve been through this. I can’t. I’ve used all my vacation days already, remember? For you, I might add, when you were feeling under the weather and turned into a human koala.”

“That was different,” Max retorted, straightening up. “I needed you then.”

“And now I need to keep my job,” you replied with a chuckle, shaking your head.

Max groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch as if you’d just told him the worst news in the world. “Quit,” he said bluntly, throwing his arms over his head.

Your fingers froze over the keyboard, and you turned to him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Quit,” he repeated, sitting up and leaning forward. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but the serious edge in his tone gave him away. “Be my princess.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “I’m sorry—what?”

Max stood up and walked over to you, crouching beside your chair. “I’ll take care of you,” he said earnestly, resting his chin on your knee. “You won’t have to work. You can just come to all my races and look pretty. I’ll even buy you a real tiara if you want.”

You burst into laughter, the absurdity of his suggestion catching you completely off guard. “Max, what are you even saying right now?”

“I’m serious,” he whined, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly. “You’d look cute in a tiara.”

Your laughter only grew, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. “Max, I can’t believe you. Do you even hear yourself?”

He pouted, clearly unimpressed with your reaction. “I mean it,” he mumbled, nuzzling your hands as if that would help convince you.

“You’re impossible,” you said, still giggling, leaning down to kiss his head.

Max grinned despite himself, his arms wrapping around your waist. “So, Vegas?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll keep trying,” he warned, a sly grin spreading across his face.

And knowing Max, you didn’t doubt it for a second.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sighed, leaning against the car parked outside the club, checking the time on your phone for the third time. The muffled bass thumped through the walls, and you wondered if Max had even seen the string of texts you’d sent him.

Finally, the doors burst open, and there he was—disheveled, grinning like a kid who’d just raided a candy store, and holding a drink that you were pretty sure wasn’t allowed outside.

“Max!” you called, marching over to him.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw you. “THERE SHE IS!” he shouted, pointing at you so enthusiastically that you winced at the sudden attention. “THAT’S MY WIFE!”

Your jaw dropped. “Max, for God’s sake—stop yelling!”

He didn’t stop. Of course, he didn’t stop. He was already pulling you into a clumsy hug, grinning at everyone who would listen. “She’s the love of my life, everyone! My wife!”

“Max, we’re not married,” you hissed, trying to tug him toward the car, but he dug his heels into the pavement.

He turned to you, his blue eyes glassy but entirely earnest. “Don’t care,” he slurred. “I wanna be your husband, so I am. That’s how it works.”

“That is absolutely not how it works,” you snapped, heat rising to your cheeks as a small crowd began to form, amused by the scene.

Max, apparently unbothered, dropped to one knee—right there on the sidewalk. You froze in horror as gasps and cheers erupted around you.

“Max, no—get up!” you whisper-shouted, glancing around frantically.

He held your hand dramatically, swaying slightly. “We’re already married, babe. I just…never got you a ring, but we’re good, yeah?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as laughter rippled through the onlookers. “Max, this isn’t how marriage works—oh my God, get up!”

He didn’t move, grinning up at you like he’d just won the lottery. “You’re my wife,” he declared again, loud and proud, before finally letting you haul him to his feet and toward the car.

The next morning, you were at the kitchen table, scrolling through Twitter, your stomach sinking with every new video and tweet about the incident. It was everywhere. Clips of Max proclaiming his undying love, people tagging you as “Mrs. Verstappen,” and a slew of memes.

Max, freshly showered and looking far too chipper for someone who’d been out all night, wandered into the kitchen and immediately attached himself to your side.

“Morning, wife,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his arms wrapping around you from behind.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Max, please. This is a PR nightmare.”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “You’re my wife, though.”

You turned to glare at him. “No, I’m not. And you can’t just decide that after a night out!”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head, his expression far too smug for your liking. “You love me, I love you. Boom—married.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Max, that’s not how any of this works.”

He just grinned, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “Doesn’t matter. You’re stuck with me, wife.”

“Stop calling me that!” you said, pushing his face away as he laughed.

But no matter how much you protested, Max stuck to his story—and to your side—all day. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind it as much as you pretended to.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The living room was alive with the soft rustle of toys and the occasional chirping meow from Jimmy and Sassy. You were sprawled on the rug, teasing them with a feather wand as they pounced and tumbled, their sleek Bengal coats gleaming in the light.

Max sat on the couch, arms crossed, watching the scene with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been playing with them for an hour,” he muttered, his tone bordering on sulky.

“They’re adorable,” you replied without looking up, giggling as Jimmy made an impressive leap to catch the feather.

Max huffed, leaning forward. “I’m adorable too.”

You glanced back at him, raising a brow. “Are you…jealous of the cats?”

“No,” he replied quickly, though his pout betrayed him. “But they get all your attention.”

You shook your head, returning to the game. “They’re cats, Max. They need playtime.”

“I need playtime,” he shot back, now sliding off the couch to sit next to you. Jimmy immediately darted away, eyeing Max warily, while Sassy remained, tail flicking as she watched the feather intently.

Max grabbed the toy and waved it halfheartedly, but Sassy ignored him, her gaze fixed on you. “See? Even the cats don’t like me,” he complained.

“That’s not true,” you said, laughing as you stroked Sassy’s head. “They like you.”

Max pointed at Jimmy, who was now perched on the coffee table, glaring. “He’s plotting against me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please.”

Max leaned closer, nudging Sassy out of your lap. “I’m better than them,” he declared firmly.

“They’re cats,” you reminded him, trying not to laugh.

“Exactly,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m a better cat.”

Before you could respond, Max let out the most monotone, deadpan “meow” you’d ever heard. It was so blunt, so unbelievably bad, that you couldn’t hold it in—you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as tears pricked your eyes.

Jimmy and Sassy, startled by your sudden outburst, darted off to another room. Max grinned triumphantly. “See? I win.”

You wiped your eyes, still laughing. “Max, you’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously lovable,” he corrected, scooting closer to wrap his arms around you. “Admit it—I’m your favorite cat.”

You sighed, leaning into him as his lips pressed against your temple. “Fine, you’re my favorite cat.”

“Thought so,” he murmured smugly, nuzzling into your neck.

From the doorway, Jimmy and Sassy peeked in, tails swishing, clearly plotting their comeback. But for now, Max basked in the victory, the happiest “cat” in your life.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The wedding reception was in full swing, the air buzzing with joy and celebration. You stood off to the side with a flute of champagne in your hand, watching the dance floor as the bride prepared to toss her bouquet. The DJ hyped up the moment, calling for all the single women to gather.

You noticed Max standing nearby, his arms crossed but his blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as he watched the group forming near the bride.

“Why don’t they let anyone else try?” he muttered, mostly to himself, before straightening his shoulders.

“Max,” you laughed, catching the determined look on his face. “You’re not—”

But before you could finish, Max had already marched toward the group of women. The moment he joined them, heads turned, some of the women giggling at the sight of him standing tall among them.

“What is he doing?” you muttered under your breath, feeling both amused and mortified.

The bride, catching sight of Max in the lineup, burst into laughter but gamely tossed the bouquet into the air. The flowers arced through the air, and with the reflexes of a world champion driver, Max leapt up, snatching the bouquet mid-flight.

The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter, everyone clapping at Max’s unexpected victory.

You watched in disbelief as he stood there, bouquet in hand, a euphoric grin spreading across his face. He looked like a proud puppy that had just retrieved a stick for his owner.

Then, as if remembering why he’d done it, Max turned and locked eyes with you. His grin widened, and he strode toward you with the confidence of someone who had just won a championship.

“Look!” he exclaimed, holding the bouquet up like a trophy. “I got it!”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head as Max reached you. “Max, it’s supposed to be for the women.”

He shrugged, still beaming. “Doesn’t matter. I caught it for you.”

“For me?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” he said, slipping his arm around your waist and presenting the bouquet with dramatic flair. “This means we’re next, right? Isn’t that how it works?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to fight the warmth spreading in your chest. “That’s not how it works.”

Max leaned closer, lowering his voice with a teasing grin. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t care about the rules.”

Before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his happiness contagious as he held the bouquet out to you again. “Go on, take it. It’s yours.”

Shaking your head but smiling all the same, you accepted the bouquet. Max’s grin grew impossibly wider as he wrapped both arms around you, holding you close in front of the amused crowd.

“Best decision I’ve ever made,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

You laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” he replied confidently, stealing another kiss.

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[organic-bloodbath]

No more secrets

Hwang In-ho x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're In-ho's wife, but know nothing about him being the Frontman. Without his knowledge, you've been taken to play the games too. One night he explains everything to you about being the Frontman.

A/N: This was a request i got, i hope you like 🫶🏻 I haven't written about him before so i wasn't sure how to portray him here. This also became a lot longer than how i originally thought it would turn out.

♡♡♡

Your husband was lying to you about something. You knew he wasn't telling you everything, but every time you asked about it, he would just deny that there was anything going on.

He told you that he'd soon be leaving for a 'work trip' and would be back home in a week. He didn't tell you any details, nothing about what it was even about, he was really dodgy about the situation. You knew it wasn't just a work trip, something was going on and you had to find out what.

♡♡♡

You were in a large field with hundreds of other people, all dressed in identical green tracksuits, including you. People were getting shot, the ground was full of blood and fresh corpses.

You were running towards the finish line behind everyone else, until you fell on your back when someone pushed you, running past you and not caring about your life at all. You winced and held your head as you sat up and realized too late what you had just done.

You had moved.

You had moved when the giant doll was scanning for any movements in the area. You were going to die and so was your unborn child. Someone was going to shoot you to death and you buried your face into your hands, as if that would prevent you from getting shot. A few people here and there were being eliminated and you waited for your turn.

But it didn't come. The doll had turned around and the players continued running. Had they missed you? Not noticed that you hadn't stayed still?

"Psst," someone said next to you. "You better get up if you want to get to the finish line and live."

He was right, you were far behind from everyone else and if you didn't start running soon, you'd be dead for being too slow.

♡♡♡

The Frontman was sitting on his leather couch, watching the game on the big screen and sipping whiskey. When the first player had moved, a chaos ensued and people started running around in panic, bullets dropping them down one by one. In-ho's favorite part of this game was the players realizing what 'being eliminated' meant for them.

Then, his heart stopped and he almost spilled the whiskey on his black suit. He saw someone familiar among the players.

Y/N. His own wife was taking a part in the games. How the hell had she ended up here?!

Just a few minutes ago he was enjoying the show, relaxing and taking a bet in his mind how many players would survive through the game. But then there was you who had no idea what you had just gotten into.

No, no, no, no - this wasn't happening.

He needed to know why someone allowed her to come here and why he wasn't aware of it. He had seen all the files of the players, all of them. You weren't even in any debts, Hwang In-ho knew that, so how was it possible you were pulled here? Someone had stripped you and put the same green tracksuit on you as everyone else.

Maybe he was seeing things. Player 002. That was your number. Maybe she just looked like you. The camera which was recording this game had done a close-up on a few players and it was enough to recognise you.

He wasn't going to let you stay here and play these games. This wasn't your place to be, this was meant for people who needed money urgently and had no other choice.

♡♡♡

The moment you saw your husband walk through the crowd, anger rose inside you. You wanted to hit him, kick him, throw all sorts of insults at him for lying to you.

Your eyes met, about thirty metres between you two. You were the first one to start walking towards him and he came to you half way.

"What the hell is going on, In-ho?!" you shouted, not caring how many people heard and how much of it.

"Y/N, please-"

"'Y/N please', just tell me what on earth you're doing here? What is this place? Is this your so called 'work trip', hm?"

Another man was near him, looking at the two of you, confused but not wanting to intervene what was going on.

"I didn't want to tell you because you'd only get worried and-"

"Worried? Worried?! You came to a place where you could be killed! You didn't tell me anything where you were going!"

"How are you here?"

"I tried to follow you."

"Follow me?"

"You were hiding something from me, for weeks you were acting so suspicious and i needed to know what was going on," you explained, standing so close to him that you could smell his breath and barely letting yourself to breathe between the words, you wanted to get everything out of you as fast as possible.

"I would have explained everything after i'd come back."

"Well sorry i didn't know that because you don't talk to me anymore." You stepped back and started pacing back and forth, fingers brushing through your hair. You took a few deep breaths to calm down before looking at him again. "But what if you hadn't come back anymore? What if you got killed? Would i ever know about that?"

He stepped closer to you again and wrapped his arms around you, even though you tried to resist at first.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, i truly am," he apologized with a sincere voice and then made you look at him again. "But like everyone else, i didn't know i was going to die and i really needed to get more money to pay off a few debts."

You looked at him for a moment until just stormed away and left him stand there alone.

♡♡♡

At night while lying on your bed, you were gently rubbing your bare stomach, as if trying to comfort your baby that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. The baby's dad was going to be okay.

You would get back home, all three of you, and continue your life like before.

Who were you fooling? Nothing was the same anymore. In-ho had abandoned you for money, lied to you because of money, not giving you attention all because of more money.

Your baby was three months old by now and you could see the bump but it could still be hidden under your shirt and jacket well enough. You hadn't told In-ho yet, you should have told him weeks ago.

But he had put everything else before you in the past couple of months. You were also scared to tell him, especially now because you thought he would be mad at you for not telling him sooner that he was going to be a father. You had waited for a moment where he would notice you again and spare a moment of his busy day just for you, but that day had never seemed to come anymore.

Now thinking about it - he had no right to be mad at you for not telling him. Still, you were nervous, and being trapped in this place didn't help it at all.

It took you almost an hour, but eventually you fell asleep and it was one of the worst night's sleeps you'd had during the pregnancy.

♡♡♡

You were safe. In-ho had made sure that you stayed safe. He argued with the guards for an hour how it was possible to allow his own wife to get involved as a player but nobody knew any details. But somehow they had tricked the system in the first game that the doll ignored any movements you had made.

But what's done is done. He couldn't get you out of the game by just letting you leave while everyone else stayed. Majority of people wanted to stay here, according to the votes, they needed the money for their own good and didn't care about any casualties that didn't involve themselves.

You were mad at him and he understood why. But he couldn't tell you about the game and how all his time was spent to plan everything out. What if he had told you all about these games? Would you still love him or would it make you leave? You were his entire world, much more important than these games.

But he wasn't able to quit, not now, not yet. It would absolutely ruin him if you packed your bags and never wanted to see him again.

He would make sure that you will get out of here and back home, no matter what. And he'd have to tell you everything eventually, and that thought terrified him, seeing how angry you had been earlier.

♡♡♡

"You doing alright?" Gi-hun asked the next morning when you had woken up, taking careful steps towards you as if you were going to bite him if he approached you too fast.

"Yeah, fantastic."

"Listen, i don't want to meddle between you two because i don't know either of you well, but we'll have to work together to get through these games," Gi-hun explained. "The most important thing now is to survive and get through the games so we can get out of here as fast as possible."

He was right, of course there had to be one man to talk sense to the rest of the group.

"I know, i know," you sighed. "It's just been hard for me lately and he hasn't shown appreciation to me and we don't communicate anymore."

"In-ho seems like a good man," Gi-hun admitted. "And none of us told our friends or family members that we would be joining the games, it wasn't allowed to spread the information to outsiders. Please, don't blame him, not right now."

You slightly nodded. "You're right, thank you, Gi-hun."

"Let's go eat before the next game starts, okay?"

♡♡♡

After you had passed the second game, you were getting a little suspicious of him once again.

It was only a small thing which nobody else probably noticed, but why did he throw the toy with his right hand? He failed several times, but succeeded immediately when he threw it with his left hand. You had always known he was left-handed.

It was like he was wasting time on purpose to leave your victory to the last second and it pissed you off. However, you had passed the game so you decided to leave it be - for now.

You woke up at night and had to go to the bathroom.

"Please, i really need to go," the small girl from your group pleaded.

"Nobody is allowed to leave the area at this hour."

"I need go too, just let us through. We'll only take a few minutes," you said, tired to argue about getting to go to pee.

The guard looked at you through the glass for a short moment until opened the door without further questions.

"5 minutes."

You were surprised and Jun-hee looked at you in even more shock but hurried inside.

You came out of your stall after couple of minutes and was about to go wash your hands when you heard crying and sniffing from one of the other stalls.

"Hey," you said and knocked on the pink door. "Hey, you good?"

No answer, only quiet sobs.

Oh my god don't you dare to start giving birth right now, you started thinking inside your head. You were not going to start delivering a baby in the bathroom while guards with guns were telling you to hurry up.

"Hey, can you open the door?"

But the door wasn't locked, as you had thought, and it opened easily, showing the girl crying, her cheeks wet from the tears and eyes red. You kneeled down in front of her and held her hands in her lap.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Is it something to do with the baby?"

"I'm scared," she sniffed. "I want to go home."

Your heart broke just by looking at her.

"We'll get you home, i promise," you said. "We'll all go home and you'll be able to raise your child."

"You promise?" she asked, looking at you directly in the eyes.

"I promise. I'm pregnant too."

Jun-hee stopped crying for a moment and looked at you, shocked. "You are?" she gasped and looked towards your stomach. You nodded with a weak smile. "How far are you?"

"3 months."

"And the dad...?" she started. "Is it the man in our group? In-ho?" She wasn't sure if she remembered his name correctly.

"Yeah, he doesn't know yet," you said and felt ashamed.

"You should tell him. Soon. We don't know how much time we have left here," she encouraged.

"Stop it, we have all the time in the world."

But she was right, you had to tell him as soon as you could.

You got up and put your arms around Jun-hee, brushing her back with your hand to try to calm her down a little bit. It seemed to help after a little while.

"Time's up," a guard said behind the door.

"Just a second," you yelled and turned back to Jun-hee. "You good to go back?" She nodded and wiped the remaining tears from her face. "Come on, let's go. If you need anything, just come to me, okay?"

You were on your way back to your bed, when you saw In-ho walk away from his bunk. You were confused, since he wasn't going to the bathroom, it was a different door where the players never went and weren't allowed to.

You quietly walked towards the same door where your husband has sneaked into. A guard stood in front of you, stopping you.

"That area is forbidden from players at this time, go back to sleep," the guard instructed but you weren't having it.

"Funny, since a certain player just went in there," you said and put your hands on your hips. "Now tell me where he went or i'll cause a scene."

"Player 002, go back to your bed, you'll see him in the morning."

"I am not leaving anywhere before you take me to my husband."

"Please, player-"

"I said now."

You were standing right in front of the guard, mere inches between you two. Eventually, since there was no way you weren't going to give up and would cause a massive scene, he hesitantly opened the door and let you in.

The guard started walking upstairs and through several corridors you haven't been in before, you walking behind him and starting to internally freak out what was going on.

You ended up in front of a large door and the guard hesitated for a moment, until he glanced at you and knocked on the door.

When the door was opened, your beloved husband was standing there, looking at you with a terrified face.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sir, i'm sorry but she insisted-"

In-ho grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room past the guard.

"Go back to your duties," In-ho commanded the guard.

"Yes, sir," was the only response the guard gave and then hurried to leave. In-ho closed the door.

Looking around the room, it looked like an office and it was only you and him in the room, nobody else. You crossed your arms against your chest.

"Now tell me exactly what the hell is going on. And no more lies or excuses - nothing. You're going to tell me the truth about everything or you can say goodbye to me."

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Just please let me explain."

And he did tell you everything. His involvement in the games, being a former winner, becoming a Frontman and everything he could think of.

Your face was horrified, you two had been together for the past 5 years, married 3 of those years and he had basically lived a double life and keeping everything a secret from you?

All those 'work trips' he had used as excuses over the years made now much more sense, all the pieces were connecting to each other and falling into their places.

"I understand if you hate me right now, despise me or however you feel about these games - i understand," he explained, letting out a deep sigh. He took your hand in his and looked at you directly in the eyes, his dark eyes mixed with several emotions all at once. "I was afraid to tell you because i feared you would leave me and stop loving me."

"I could never stop loving you, no matter what, In-ho," you said and put your hand on his cheek. "I said it in my wedding vows too, i'll always love you until the day i die. In good and in bad, yes?"

Of course you weren't fine with this. These games were brutal, almost barbaric. But you loved In-ho more than anything in the world and you were fighting with yourself how you could learn to be okay with this.

"I just... i just need time to think these things through," you said, then taking a deep breath and taking his hands in yours, just like he had done to you only a moment ago. "Now that we're talking openly, there's something i must tell you and should have told you a lot earlier."

"Yes?" he said, encouraging you to continue when you had fallen silent for a few seconds.

"I'm pregnant," you revealed, it was almost a whisper but he had heard you, loud and clear.

"You... You're what?" he gasped, looking at your stomach and then back to your eyes.

You brought his left hand on your stomach.

"We're going to have a baby, my love," you told him.

He looked like he was about to cry and pulled you into a tight hug. You knew he wanted to become a dad, had wanted for a long time but you hadn't been able to become pregnant before, no matter how much you tried.

He held your face in his hands, kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

"I'm going to be a dad," he whispered, as if it sounded too good to be true.

"And i'm going to be a mother," you said back. "To your baby."

You stayed there for a long time, until both of you were forced to go back to your beds.

♡♡♡

The Mingle game had started and you were all spinning on a huge carousel. In-ho was holding your hand, squeezing it hard.

When it was time to choose 4 people to find a room together, you and In-ho were separated. People were pushing and pulling each other and the time was running out.

Everything happened so fast.

The time ran out and In-ho had ended up in a room with three other players. And you? You were left outside, still on the carousel which was now stopped.

The pink guards shot the remaining players, pleading for help and to spare their life, but their cries were for nothing. You looked on your right and saw Jun-hee standing there too, looking at you with a terrified face.

One of the pink guards came in front of you, the black gun in his arms.

♡♡♡

The plan to get you out of there was simple. You were going to fake your death and In-ho was going to act all heart broken for the loss of both his wife and his unborn child. He would act like only a shell of a man who he had used to be. Anything to convince Gi-hun and others that his wife was dead and he blamed it all on himself.

You only had one requirement for doing this. One wish that In-ho had to make happen or you weren't going to cooperate anymore.

To let Kim Jun-hee go home with you. Let her go as well and raise her child in safety. You knew she wouldn't otherwise survive to the end and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you left and she stayed.

You also made In-ho promise that she'd get her share of money and wouldn't leave this place empty handed. In-ho had gotten protective over Jun-hee during the short time she had been here, so even though he was reluctant to let any player out of here without all of them leaving, he allowed Jun-hee to go with you.

They would need to keep an eye on her for some time, to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything funny regarding to the games but you trusted her.

Before you left that night, In-ho came to see you one more time before he'd eventually come home too the next week.

"I love you," In-ho said, holding you tightly in his arms. He took your face into his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss, kissing you like he was going to a year long war, but it was only going to be a few days anymore, under a week.

"I love you too," you said, couple of tears running down your cheeks.

Now, you and the girl were free to go. The guards escorted you out of there and you were taken back home. They didn't gas you or Jun-hee, in case the gas would harm the babies, but they did blindfold both of you, just in case you wanted to do something stupid and reveal the location to others - which you certainly weren't going to do.

The fact that so many other people stayed there to try and stay alive just to win money made you feel bad. But they were allowed to quit if they really wanted to. The game would be possible to end if the majority wanted it but they decided to stay.

You had to focus on your baby and prepare a good life for him or her, give them a nice and healthy life with you and their father who promised to quit the games after these were over.

He wouldn't take the job as the Frontman ever again, he had to move on and raise his child with the woman he loved the most in the world - you

[kaisentine]

imagine rin snitching on you to sae about your little crush on him.

“…that was 11 years ago, sae.”

“you wanna watch big bro again?” the black-haired boy groans out in annoyance. “uh-huh!” you gleam out while smiling—flashing him with your braced teeth. you’ve been asking rin that question a lot recently and it’s starting to irk him a little bit. he isn’t stupid, he can put two and two together to compose a theory about you having something a little more than friendly feelings for his sibling. however, he can’t deny the fact that he does want to see his brother play too. that’s what brings you to the neighborhood’s field to watch the muddy-red-head kick around some stupid ball. it looks like sae didn’t seem to care about the two pairs of eyes watching him—it makes you question whether he even remembers rin shouting to him 30 minutes prior. “girl, you don’t even like soccer.” he deadpans next to you with this hands shoved into his jacket’s pockets—that is a very true statement—and the fact you don’t know anything about the sport other than playing against other people to shoot a ball into a goal. you stay silent to contemplate the answer (you’re lowkey just distracted by the way sae moves are so languid). “hey, i watch you play too!” you retort, suppressing the urge to punch his shoulder. “that’s because i ask you to,” so he’s doubling down and admitting he actually forces you to watch him play? “but last time i checked, i don’t see big bro asking you.” he finishes before sticking his popsicle back into his mouth. there’s no arguing with that so you don’t respond any further.

rin is very observant—he can tell your body stiffens whenever sae comes onto your radar even just for a second. the way you stop mid-conversation to hold your breath when he asks rin (and you but you do nawt speak) what you guys want for dinner when you stay over. rin can’t contain his laughter when his brother leaves the room. “what are you laughing about?” you sound annoyed and flattened after holding your breath—he has to hold his hand up to signal you to just wait until he’s done laughing. “what the heck was that?” he says in between chuckles. you catch onto what he means by that… you aren’t as sneaky as you think you are, are you? “it wasn’t that funny!” you finally get to punch his shoulder in embarrassment after he makes it very apparent that you are quite obvious. despite the fact you haven’t ever actually vocalized to him that you like sae yet, you basically already have. but he’s like an ongoing court case—everybody is innocent until proven guilty.

it’s the way you refuse to go anywhere in the itoshi house unless you’re with rin. he thinks you’re insufferable when you have to insist there’s a ghost who doesn’t allow you to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water—good thing rin is an exorcist! he begrudgingly leads you downstairs only to lean against the wall to wait for you to finish getting your water. oh but if sae is also there? you crawl your way back up the stairs with rin following close behind you, whispering displeased questions. “you just said you were dying of thirst!” he whisper-shouts the moment he closes his bedroom door—he’s getting real annoyed of your antics. “not anymore…” you’re pathetic, making him do a lot just to become a scaredy-cat? “i’d rather not drag a dead body out of my room.” he alludes as if you were actually going to die of dehydration.

you can’t just (basically) live at the itoshi household without interacting with sae at least once. panic begins to set in your stomach when you hear shuffling from behind rin’s bedroom door—is it a robber? is it a murderer? oh no, it is much worse—it’s sae! you hear the doorknob twist and it’s too late for you to hide under the bed or maybe the closet… aw shit—he’s already standing there in all his glory with rin’s training bag. “oh, it’s you.” he says in sight of seeing a familiar figure on his younger brother’s bed. “where’s rin?” he asks and cocks an eyebrow when you don’t respond immediately. why did he have to go looking for him at the worst time? (which is all the time) “h-he’s in the bathroom…” bruh wtf goes through your head which you mentally slap in absolute cringe at your stutter. “oh okay, i’ll leave his bag here. bye.” he drops the bag on the floor before taking his leave—without closing the door! you’re too flushed to care about the gesture. when rin eventually does return to his bedroom, he’s met with the sight of an open door and his friend looking traumatized on his bed.

or that one time where you accidentally clung onto sae after getting an adrenaline rush from a horror movie rin really wanted to watch. you didn’t understand why sae insisted on sitting next to you on the couch when there was a perfectly open spot beside rin. “…and i’ll blow your house in!” a crazed man wielding an axe says before hacking the white door in-front of him the scene was the equivalent to actually being chased and you subconsciously gripped anything beside you which turned into full on hugging. “uhm…” there’s a voice beside you that brings you back to reality. you look at the direction of the voice then hesitantly look up to whatever you’re hugging. oh. my. word. you are clinging onto sae’s arm. safe to say rin was in the middle for the rest of the movie viewings.

“can you just admit it?” rin grumbled after a match with another school. “no idea what y’er talkin’ ‘bout!” you sing-song happily while extending your hand to give him the water-bottle he asked for. his movements halted, the towel on top of his head being left there to rot. he looks at you like he hates you for saying that, he snatches his water-bottle like it’s a crime for you to even be holding it. the man in-front of you is absolutely tired of your bullshit that he has tolerated for at least 3 years. “admit it right now.” he’s a lot more serious and anticipating an answer—more than any other situation he’s asked you in. “legit, no idea what you’re talking about.” there’s a lot of things you do need to admit, like how you still need to admit that you’re the one who added the vinegar in his soy sauce… “you like big bro, don’t you?” he bluntly states. “w-what makes you think that?” you stutter like the one time sae directly spoke to you. “everything.” it’s disturbing how much rin means to you that you actually finally admit your feelings.

it’s like you’re the 3rd child of the itoshi family, being at the airport to watch (the love of your life) sae depart for another country. there were tearful goodbyes which you wanted to relate to but you couldn’t because then it would out you for liking him because you never really talked to him anyway. he was exchanging goodbyes with each of his family members—his dad, then his mom, lastly rin. okay… why’s he looking over to you… “it’s okay to cry over this, i know you’ll miss me.” he winks, his stupid bangs actually looking good for once—it feels like every blood cell in your body is rushing to your cheeks and ears. “why’d he say that…” you turn to rin who is beside you after sae turned his back towards everybody for who knows how long. “i told him.” he blurts out. “RIN!!!!”

your feelings were definitely not resolved that day. you still have silent beef with rin for him outing you, you didn’t even know he snitched until he told you! the last time sae was in the country other than for u-20, he had a really bad comeback with rin—making you ice over your affections (not an effective way for getting over somebody btw).

“so?” he’s condescending. the absence of his bangs make you realize how much more grown he looks now. however, the thing that you really take note of is his eyes. sure, he’s grown more into his face but the way his eyes are half-lidded and no longer the bright annoyed ones make you really question everything.

gosh—literally every time he speaks to you, you just can’t make up the words. that ‘that was 11 years ago, sae’ was probably all your confidence for the next 11 years to come. “a lot can happen during a decade.” you push through to retort, clutching the bag that hung lazily over your shoulder. out of anywhere, he chooses to confront you like this—after a game?

“i didn’t even say it myself, that was rin!” you defend yourself, not letting yourself give into his advancements. he steps forward and you know he’s shorter than rin but fucking hell… “i changed a lot, didn’t i?” it’s a rhetorical question—he knows you can tell. it’s like he was testing the waters because when you don’t respond but you don’t react violently either, he continues, “i’m not stupid either. you don’t think i couldn’t tell?”

which event was he referring to? what if he was referring to when… oh not now. “okay, so what if it was true? that doesn’t mean i like you anymore.” you scramble around your thoughts to find words. “too bad, i still like you.”

ugh, i waited this long.

ALSO I JUST WANNA THANK EVERYONE 🙁🙁🙁 thank you guys for 100 followers :)

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited)² retired simon has nowhere to go, so you offer. [ one, two, three]

it took a lot of convincing to get him to your little apartment, like trying to move a massive brick wall with a feather. however, in the end, he gave in— not that he had much of a say in the matter, considering the fact that the two of you were already at your home amidst arguing (which, to be fair, was predominantly one-sided as he persistently uttered 'no' in response to all your counterarguments).

in all honesty, you couldn't quite figure out why you were so insistent on having a stranger, especially a strange man, stay with you in your much too tiny apartment. perhaps it was your festive december spirit, the idea of someone being alone during this time of year just didn't sit right with you. besides it was just for the night, then you could take him to the shelter.

he’d been quiet as you set up everything for him, he was imposing, tall, and somewhat scary (primarily due to his skull mask and his overall silent demeanor). but strangely enough, you didn't feel unsafe with him, despite the fact that you probably should have. after all, he was a man, and he undoubtedly outweighed you by at least 100 pounds. killing you and getting away with it would be easy for him. and, why the hell were you contemplating this now, instead of when you first picked him up from the side of the street?

perhaps it was the way he carried himself, with a sense of calm and control that was almost hypnotic. or maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you, yet held a hint of sadness that made you feel a strange sense of empathy toward him. whatever the reason, you found yourself drawn to him.

as you finished setting up the couch, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to decipher his thoughts and emotions. but his expression remained unreadable, his mask hiding any hint of vulnerability or emotion. it was both frustrating and intriguing, making you wonder what secrets lay hidden behind that skull mask.

“um, so the shower is just down the hall, oh! feel free to look through the fridge for something,” you smile awkwardly at the tall man and gesture to your room door, “if you need anything just let me know.” his gaze remains fixated upon the makeshift bed you have prepared, adorned with a spare comforter of a soft, faded hue resembling baby blue, adorned with delicate flowers which sprawls across the expanse of your pull-out sofa.

simon, ever the brooding man, says a small, stiff thank you; ready for you to leave him alone you're sure. wiping your sweaty palms on your denim-clad thighs, you gently press your lips together and affirmatively bob your head. “alright, well, goodnight simon.” without waiting for a response, that you were sure you weren't going to get, you scuttle off to your bedroom, swiftly closing the door and attempting to lock it as quietly as possible. however, the resounding click makes you think he’s heard it.

letting out a weary sigh you slide down your door, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone. with a gentle motion, you begin to skim through your contacts and find your best friend. it rings once, twice before she picks up with a tired hello.

“if i die tonight, i love you.”

you catch the faint sound of her perplexed murmur, followed by the gentle click of her bedside lamp over the phone. it was late, far too late for you to have disturbed her with a call, you knew that— should’ve called your sister or something.

“have you been drinking?”

you give a slight eye roll before curling your legs up to your chest. “no, not yet. anyways, i think i might've done something very dumb," you admit, trailing off as you nervously nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the soft flesh give way under your teeth. your friend lets out a quiet grunt. “well? spit it out.”

“so, i picked up a homeless guy on the side of the road and offered him a ride to the shelter but instead i brought him to my apartment and now he’s in my living room, about to sleep on my couch,” you utter quickly— and she's silent for a moment, it's a loud silence, one that makes your heart beat quickly in your chest. you run a hand down your face and take a deep breath, sighing heavily. “say something.” your voice is filled with a mix of impatience and anxiety.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes

omg I love this, let's do it hehe

Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...

Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired

„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.

He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.

You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?

“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.

You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…

It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.

“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.

“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”

It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.

“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”

Little did he know you meant that.

-a week later-

“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”

His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.

“Oh, just work.”

No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.

Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.

You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…

“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“

“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.

Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-

He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.

“Off to bed with you.”

“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.

You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?

Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.

-a few days after-

“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.

You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.

But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.

“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”

Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.

“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”

With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.

“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.

“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.

“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.

“I’m completely back to normal!”

“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.

“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”

Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“

“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.

“The combat training with the first year-“

“Done.”

“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”

“Done.”

“Taking care of-“

“Done.”

This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?

“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”

Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.

“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.

“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”

“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.

“Call her in right now.”

Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.

“And let her leave again in about an hour.”

-an hour later-

“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.

You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.

But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?

“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.

“Ehm...so…well…”

“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“

“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.

“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.

“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”

“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.

“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”

“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”

It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…

You open the door with a swift motion.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.

The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.

He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.

“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.

“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.

“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.

But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-

Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…

“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.

You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.

And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…

“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.

You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.

He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.

“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.

“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”

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(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)

[dontbesoweirdkira]

A/N: Thinking about Yan! Platonic Tim Drake with a medic! batsis. I don't know, Tim just gives me the vibes where he'd go to the extent of faking and sustaining injuries just for his sis's attention. Like that one comic inspired this low-key...ya'll hear me out.

Warnings: symptoms of factitious disorder/munchausen syndrome, self-injury, brief mentions of vomiting, obsession, unhealthy family dynamics..

Masterlist

Requests: always open

You're not actually certified or anything but just someone who often finds herself patching up the family after their patrols thus is claimed as the family's medic. Despite your lack of formal training, your skills are actually fairly good to the point they'll often come to you for a quick stitch so they don't bleed out on the way to the hospital or while waiting for Alfred.

We all know that Tim often gets himself hurt the most when he goes out. While he's arguably the smartest robin, he definitely not the strongest. And small dogs can't help but throw themselves into the line of fire....

So more often then not when someone was coming to you for stitches or to be patched up, it was your brother Tim.

You didn't mind too much, actually you enjoyed taking care of him the most. Tim was always a trooper, even while pouring alcohol on his open gashes. He stayed still, polite and was rather good company. A nice contrast to your brother Jason who'd often spew curses and was rather brash while you helped him.

Tim found himself really enjoying being taken care of by you too. He didn't often have the time or energy to spend with his siblings because between solving cases, school and being robin...all his time was gone. It was always late at night, before bed when everything was finished when he'd quietly chat with you while he patched up. The best thirty minutes he could ever spare. You were just so gentle and attentive with him, something he hadn't had since moving away from him bio family. He missed this domestic feeling, it was nice having someone care so much about him. His chest felt warm as you send a million apologies his way anytime he'd wince...He could almost die when you gave him a head pat for getting through all of it.

Tim feels so important when you're caring for him, it's so nice to be remembered...it's an addicting drug that he needed to keep getting high off of

Tim knew it was wrong to be reckless out in the city but...he couldn't help getting excited about the thought of you patching him up again..Just a few cuts was enough to spend a few valuable minutes with you again.

It's kind of crazy because he lives in the same house with you and could just spend time whenever but it wasn't the same in his mind. There wasn't any reason to be gentle with him when he wasn't hurt. You didn't pay extra attention or give him the same affection...he only mattered to you when he was hurt. That wasn't true but in his twisted his it was.

So Tim started being really reckless...not just on patrol but like..all of the time. If he decided to skateboard home, he's purposefully do some crazy trick on the top of the stairs...if he was on patrol he'd practically run to get hit by someone three times his size..

The more hurt he'd be, the happier because the worse the injury, the more attention he'd receive. Which would set off so many alarm bells because why are you so happy to be in pain. Like you are so weirded out as he's smiling up as you as you are fixing a stab wound.

Do you think he's made himself physically sick too? He'd chug down these horrible concoctions just to make himself vomit or manufacture fevers just so he can rest in your arms.

Maybe even sometimes he'd fake injuries just like he did with the whole knee brace situation..Such an attention whore gosh.

Like this man comes to you and is like "Hey! I think I am bleeding internally and my ribs are broken, please fix it sis." No, Timothy. You have to explain to him that you don't have the knowledge, skills or equipment to fix that. That he needs to go to the hospital right away and you're just freaking out. He's begging you to please help him and refusing medical attention for literally everyone else but you...

Did Bruce have to pull some strings to let the doctors let you assist in his medical treatment? Yes. He's so insane.

He also starts becoming jealous of the other siblings when you're patching them up. They don't deserve your attention. Alfred can take care of them, why do they all need you?? You're his sister, not theirs. UGHH He'd be on the verge of a freak out as you patch up Cass and Dick. Can you imagine how upset he'd be???

..and don't ever try to ban Tim from being taken care of by you. It doesn't matter that you put two and two together and realized he was doing this all for you,,,,just do your job! He needs you to take care of him.

Yan! Tim is far more unhinged than Dick so I can just imagine him getting himself severely hurt in front of you and you'd have no choice but to quickly do something about it....He's so fucked, I love him. Hopefully you've given him some stickers and a lollipop for all his troubles.

[a-simple-imagine]

Don’t They Know a Rabbit Can’t Cry pt.2

Synopsis: the road is long and winding. You've been through so much. but the hardest thing to deal with is the newest revelation from Lilia.

Pairing: rio vidal x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader x rio vidal

words: 3.3k+

A/N - gave up on trying to make this something i couldn’t. It ended up focusing on the readers relationship with Rio sort of separate from Agatha. Sorry if that's not what you' expected

WARNINGS- swearing, descriptions of blood and injuries/pain

PREV //

The vibrant orangey-red sky and comforting embrace do little to distract from the stinging bubbling across your palm. It hurts something fierce. Red hot and wet. You keep your hand in a tight fist; blood bubbling beneath. It tickles a little as droplets spill down your wrist and onto the fabric of your clothes. Agatha sits behind you with her legs on either side, cradling you like one would an injured child. Soft voice in your ear an attempt to encourage you to show your injury. You stay curled into yourself. Shunning her pleas. It was just a scratch. It would heal in time. The other woman didn't need to fret about you any more than she already did. You hear another voice before you notice them. Rio must have returned from her trip. A few words were shared with Agatha before her attention was diverted to you.

"show me,"a temperate request.

"no," you urge. Twisting more into Agatha's embrace. Her grasp tightens slightly. Rio merely sighs before snatching your wrist and tugging your arm out. Your brow furrows.A tiny grunt of discomfort. She pries your fingers apart with ease, revealing the gash across your palm.

"How?" she catches your gaze but you don't answer so her eyes flicker to Agatha an instant later.

"accident in the woods."

"Can you not speak?" rio questions, fingers a smidge tighter around your arm.

"Can you let go?" you shoot back, attempting to pull away but she holds on tight.

"you must be more careful," Rio leans down, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your palm "My love."

"you needn't worry," you express as she eventually releases your hand. A faint red scar that would go away in time. "I am fine."

"for now," Rio shows a smile. Tiny and gentle. Easy to miss. She cups your face and you instinctively lean into her touch; thumb brushing over your cheek. "does it feel better?" said warmly. You nod. "I am glad."

"This is why you should listen," Agatha scolds

"you know, should you need you can just call for me?"

"I do not wish to bother you." you express, a touch warmer. Softened by the soothed hand.

"it matters not when it is you," Rio murmurs. A brighter smile.

"and it is me who is too soft?" Agatha scoffs. "hardly,"

"This is different," a hand held out as she stood. "it's getting late. We should go inside before you catch your death."

"a little cold never hurt me." you accept her hand allowing the help up. "Agatha and I finished making jam earlier, you should try some."

"you made jam just for me?"

"it was not made for you," Agatha comments following behind the two of you. "you just happened to return."

The end was so close you could almost taste it. The bitter taste of death. It's not that your wish was to die right at the end but to rid yourself of the burden of immortality; and live a life that would one day end for that was what made it worth living in the first place. Hundreds of years of a life that should have ceased years ago. You would also be rid of Agatha and Rio. No longer a spare moment interrupted by their presence. Agatha Harkness who grew more unbearable to be around the further you travelled the road. And Rio Vidal… a green witch you used to know. Maybe Lilia had been lying. There was no way to fact-check now. There are but three others left. Agatha, Jen and Billy. You have no idea where they are. Agatha had basically charged out of the last trial. Jen and Billy were a mystery. You had wandered in search of respite. Searing pain encases your arm; a trail of blood droplets leading towards a tree. You tumble against it. Breathing through the overwhelming sensation.

"whatcha doin'?" such a playful tone could only belong to one witch. Rio. Too focused on yourself you hadn't even noticed her presence but now the slight chill in the air was beginning to shiver up your spine. Her magic always felt a little overwhelming. She possessed a great deal.

"where have you been?" words harsh as your eyes search for her. A shadowy figure across the way leaning against a tree. A pit begins to form in your stomach "Rio?"

"working," eventually answered. Working. Even back then it was always her reason for taking days away. You never really challenged it. You had no reason to. And Rio never seemed interested in explaining what she got up to. "where are the others?"

You dare a shrug. The fire spreads in response. You swallow a groan as best you can but it is much harder to hide your face. You had never been exceptionally good at that. "somewhere up ahead. Listen closely and you'll probably hear Agatha yelling," An attempt at a joke but your heart is hardly in it. You takea resounding breath and let your head tumble back against the bark. Seems like you spend a lot of time amongst the trees. Rio used to say it was important to foster a good relationship with nature. It's what sustains all living things. She was a green witch though so her connection in particular probably made her biased. You always enjoyed exploring with Rio. Many hours spent in grassy fields or harvesting fruit for sweet treats and whatnot. "I just…"

"you're hurt," a knife between fingers twinkles in the moonlight. "and Agatha just left you?"

You never wish to defend Agatha Harkness of all people but in her defence, she wasn't aware of your injury. None of them were. A rogue sword managed to catch you before you could jump out of the way. You would be fine. It wasn't a devastating blow. Just grazed the skin all the way down your arm. Probably looked worse than it was. "nothing new then."

A bark of laughter that quickly settles from the green witch. "she was practically sobbing when that boy got hurt," pushing herself up, she starts stalking towards you. "guess we know where her priorities lie," you swallow hard. Guess we do. While you had made it rather clear you wanted nothing to do with her. Rio bringing up her reaction to Billy did pull at your stomach a little. Once cared so much. Now cared so little. It wasn't like you were hiding your injury well if Rio's quick evaluation was anything to go by. One momentary glance away from the other witch and she was suddenly towering over you. "shame," she crouches down to your level, hooking her index finger under your chin and lifting ever so slightly. "to leave such a pretty thing behind," heat floods your cheeks, making you feel a different kind of warmth. She was playing to your softer side. The vulnerability of being injured. A cunning fox playing with her food. You wait for the enviable moment she switches. Often her treats were paired with tricks. A hand around your throat. A knife in your back. Disappearing one night without a trace. But she doesn't. "let me kiss it better."

Rio was an extraordinarily healer. No need for spells or chants she preferred physical contact. In the past, it was often a kiss; much like the famous saying. You'd witnessed her lick Agatha a few times to dispel her injuries.

"no, it's fine," your free arm shoves her away. "get off me."

Entirely unfazed.A slight chuckle. "still mad?"

"fuck you."

"guess so," the corner of her lips quirk up into an almost missable smirk. "it'll only take a second," a furrowed brow is met with a viper fast root vine that slithers around your wrist and yanks your arm out on display. An audible groan dragged from your lips. Eyes scrunch up as tears begin to swell.

"what the hell?" typical Rio. "don't lick me."

A threat rather than a statement. You know her games. The attempts to rile you up. A roll of her eyes. She crosses her legs as she sits down opposite you. The tip of her thumb swipes over her tongue before cold fingers wrap around your arm. You watch her gradual movements, applying pressure around the edge. "does that hurt?"

"you know it does." you grit your teeth. Willing yourself not to cry. She didn't deserve it. She presses even harder. Pain pricking around her fingertips. You squirm but it only makes your arm burn and her grip tighten. "Rio," voice low. A little whiny. Begging for something; her to let go or heal it, you're not sure. "please," her thumb drifts slowly. Collecting blood and leaving a faint scar in its path as the stinging sensation begins to fade. A few stray tears manage to fall your cheeks. The green witch pops her blood-soaked thumb into her mouth. Holding your gaze a satisfied smirk grew. A low hum. the delicious taste of your suffering.

"just like old times," muttered quietly. She sounds almost timid. Perhaps a response to reminiscing on the past or she knew the reaction she would get bringing it up. If you didn't know her well enough, you'd think she was fond of your time together.

"Can you… let me go now?" the vine tightens before slipping away. You run your fingers over the scar, stretching your wrist out. It was feeling a lot better. Rio watches you carefully. No attempt to get up. You make no attempt to push her away. Softened by a soothed arm. She reaches out once more. Hesitating as if giving you a chance to stop her before she wipes away the remnants of your tears.

"better?"

You nod a little and her hand lowers. "thanks."

"this game you're playing ends soon. Do you think you'll get what you want?"

"why wouldn't I?" you query.

Rio's hands maneuver across the dirt around her in smooth steady motions. "nothing feels…" a handful of dirt brought up between the two of you before pouring to the ground. "off to you?"

Your eyes narrow in contemplation. Does anything feel off? Nothing felt normal. You were on a magical road. The Witches Road. The stuff of legends. "should it?" a soft sigh falls past Rio's lips.

"you may think you've changed- almost convinced me with that whole tough girl act" She shakes her head. Almost like she's disappointed. "but you're still that same girl." she expresses. No venom in her words. Hardly an emotion at all. "naïve. Trusting. I could say the world was ending and you'd probably believe me."

"I'm not," you try to sound as firm as possible. Fingertips going back to your arm. "I wouldn't believe a word that comes out of your mouth."

A chuckle. "and yet you believe this road is the answer to all your problems."

"Agatha is the one who asked me to come,"

"and you just believed her?"

"She is the only known survivor," many witches attempt the road. That much you knew. Nobody ever comes back. It wasn't that you believed Agatha. She was on some misguided trip for power. It was more an act of desperation.

"notorious liar and serial killer Agatha Harkness."

"you need a coven for the road and I-" you continue but she's not listening.

"hid behind dark magic."

"Rio,"

"the woman who abandoned you-"

"Rio. stop it," you state loudly.

"I'm not doing anything," she shrugs. "just speaking the truth."

"I know what she did- what you did," you huff. Your eyes flicker down to the small pile of dirt Rio made. You reach for it. Rolling pieces of the road between your fingers. It felt rough. Sharp. Real. that sword that sliced your arm. The blood that spilled. It was real. "I need this- I need the road to be something." you drop it back down. smoothing it around the ground with your hand. It had been a long road. It was hard being here. Seeing them again. Sharon. Alice. Lilia. You hardly knew them but they didn't deserve to die. This couldn't have been for nothing. You needed to get to the end. To prove you weren't that stupid girl they thought you were. You needed the suffering to end. It had to be real. It just had to be. "I can't keep searching forever." your words hang heavy in the air.A despairing confession to the road.

"Why do you see immortality as a curse?" the other witch asks. Your eyes flicker up to find her staring at you. You feel hot under her gaze and quickly look away. "and not a blessing?"

A blessing? That was ludicrous. It brought you nothing but suffering. Endless life was no gift. How could it be? How could Rio of all people believe that after what Lilia said? Unless it wasn't true. "Rio."

"yeah?"

"why didn't you tell me?" or more so how could she not tell you? You had known her for centuries. And yet it was Lilia who revealed her true identity.

"tell you what?"

"Lilia said you're…"

"I'm…?"

"death," a whisper on the breeze. Death. Rio was death. Is death. Some living embodiment of a concept. It wasn't easy to comprehend. Your brain still didn't quite understand how it worked or if it was even true.

"What happened back there?"

"you'd know if you'd been there," a bitter tone. You don't know why. It just felt like one minute she was there and the next she vanished. Back then and even now on the road.

"do you think you would have handled it well if I had?"

You shrug. Who knows. Back then you navigated the world with an unchecked sense of naivety. You would never deny the girl you once were. You would have followed Agatha and Rio to the end of the world had they asked. They were everything. You truly used to believe they had your best interest at heart. It was stupid thinking back. To trust two predators so easily. there were plenty of red flags that you chose to ignore. You don't know how you would have reacted to the news. There was no way of knowing. You're not that girl anymore. "maybe."

"not even a little."

"you don't know that,"

"I do," her voice is forceful. No room for misinterpretation. "I really do."

"I don't get it," she reaches for your hand. Slow and cautious. You don't pull away. You let her have the moment. The original Green Witch was something you were familiar with. You had originally thought that just meant she was a really powerful witch which is still true but different. a cosmic entity. It's hard to understand a concept such as death having a physical form. Never mind one that looked so ordinary. Well, not ordinary but humanoid.

"you do get it, trust me" as she squeezes your hand. Presumably an attempt at reassurance. You pull away. Perhaps she was right. Maybe you just refused to accept that Rio was death. Maybe it was just too hard to understand. As you stare into captivating eyes you see a world that once was. Silk black hair spilling out from a spring green hood. Kissing wounds so minuscule just to save you some discomfort. The prettiest of flowers just so happened to appear on your strolls. Delicate locks embellished with perfect petals. Sure, she had never been the gentlest of souls. Not like Agatha who was always there to catch you when you fall. But Rio Vidal had her way of showing affection. How could someone like that possibly be death? "you're trying to apply human morality to death. But death is neither right nor wrong. Good nor bad. It simply is." it simply is. Death didn't discriminate. It wasn't fair or just. It simply is. Hated by so many. Sought after by others. Death wasn't good nor bad but Rio? Could her actions really be excused? If all the bad she did wasn't her doing then neither were those little moments of goodness. Was something like death even capable of feeling? "I am the natural order of all things."

"not me though," you say quietly. "does immortality not go against your natural order?" Rio's eyes flicker away but you reach for her face. Firm hands cupping cold skin. She always ran a little cold. Guess that made more sense now. You can tell she's surprised as you push her to face you. Force her attention to remain on the unnatural. "did Agatha know even back then?" rio nods against your hands. Of course, she did. Maybe that's why they ran off together. A serial killer and the embodiment of death. Quite the pair. "oh,"

"it's how we met actually- before you," that small pocket of anxiety sinks deeper at the mention of a time before you. To a relationship only they shared. You had your moments with each of them. But they had many more without you and that would always mean something. "death doesn't wait for you at the end of this stupid road. I've always been right behind you."

Anger settles but never gone. Your jaw tense. Nails digging into the back of her neck. She doesn't even flinch. There is some truth behind her words. You've been chasing death for as long as you care to remember. Searching for her in textbooks and scrolls. Bitter potions and fruitless spells. But in actual reality, you have known her all along. It was funny in its own way. Ridiculous. Even now as you hold them in your hand, it's still hard to understand. Your mind races with questions. So you merely sink into death. Wrapping your arms around her as you bury your face in the crook of her neck. Inhaling the familiar earthy scent and dewy undertones. It's a second or two before her arms wrap around you and her body relaxes. Her grip is fierce; bruising even like she's been waiting for this instant. Fearful you'll slip away again if she lets go. It's a comfort in a way. Terrifying in another.

"you're not mad anymore?" you very much still were. There had been no apology. Barely an explanation. That flame still burned inside. This wasn't forgiveness by any means. You were just overcome. Tears threatening to spill as you cling to her. Allowing your emotions to wash over yourself. It's strange. It's confusing. It's Rio. She's never held you with so much urgency. So much sentiment.

"te he extrañado," a painfully tight squeeze that gives you a point of hesitation. An admission you never predicted. Not now. There's a twist in your stomach. A tug at your heart. A deep inhale of death. It makes no sense and yet so much. Possibly a joke. Some sick game she was playing. How was the embodiment of death was somehow capable of missing you and yet…

"I miss you too," confessed against the skin of her neck. Her grip falters and you take the opportunity to pull back. You come face to face with her once more. Offering a small almost sad smile. Rio looks to the ground and you follow. a single white daisy. She plucks it. Rolling the stem between her fingers as she looks to you once more. flower so lovingly placed behind your ear before rising to her feet.

"you should head back to the others," she insists, brushing herself off. "wouldn't want you to get lost out here," a sharp turn on her heel. You scramble to your feet as she begins walking away. Brow furrowing.

"Rio," you call out. She halts but doesn't turn your way. You know there's no point in chasing after her. "did you… do this to me?"

"do what?"

"curse me," she lets your query linger in the air for an uncomfortably long time.

"Maybe," she answers back. "run along now rabbit."

[thevillainswhore]

The Ties That Bind Us

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, small amount of angst, mutual pining, jealousy, kissing, smut, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink, p in v sex, derogatory names, spitting, happy ending.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“You look so pretty, Mama!” You caught your son’s reflection in the mirror, his bright blue eyes wide and in awe as you finished the final touches up of your makeup. 

You were about to respond, but the words died on your tongue at the sight of Bucky’s large form rounding the corner into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over one another. “She absolutely does, cupcake.”

The intensity of his stare made you gulp silently, and you diverted your eyes back to your son.   

Bucky had been doing that a lot recently —looking at you differently, more longing in his eyes than usual. 

“Thank you, baby,” you said, ignoring Bucky in favour of showing your appreciation to your son. The knot in your stomach was wound too tight to try and unravel the conflict that ravaged in your mind. “You’re going to be good for your Dad tonight, aren’t you?” 

Your son did his best to try and hide the cheeky smirk on his lips — one that resembled his father a little too much. “Of course Mama, I be a good boy.” 

Unable to help the smile growing on your face, you brought him into your embrace, snuggling him tightly until he let out a loud squeal when you tickled his stomach. “I mean it, trouble. No staying up late and no ice cream before bed.” 

Instantly, his puppy eyes fell to his father, an innocent pout on his lips. “But Dadda—“ 

“Sorry kid,” Bucky held strong. Glancing to you before looking back to his son, “Mama’s rules.” 

“Oh, shucks,” your son sighed as you laughed. 

From the outside looking in, the three of you seemed like a perfect family. Picturesque and ideal — white picket fences enclosing a home that was full of love and laughter, wholesome family dinners and celebrations for each loved one. 

But things were never as simple as you wished. 

The sobering thought made your laughter die in your throat, and you checked the time on your lit up phone screen. It was almost time for your date and you were wary of being late. “Okay, cupcake. I’ve gotta get moving so I can make it on time.” 

“Aw,” your son whined, and you ruffled his hair as you made your way out of the bathroom. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you squeezed by Bucky, the scent of his aftershave he had worn since you first met him filled your nose and overtook your senses. 

You barely suppressed a moan, a sinful combination that your mind begged you to inhale one more time, while another internal voice scolded you. The lingering touch of his fingers ghosting over your waist made it even harder to listen to sense. 

Once you reached the hallway, you shook yourself and grabbed your bag from its hook by the door.  The coat over your arm was warm and comfortable as you slipped it over your shoulders. 

The telltale patter of feet over the hardwood floor bounced towards you, along with another set of heavier ones not too far behind. “Where you going this time, mama?” cupcake asked. 

Smiling, you leaned down and tucked a stray lock of deep brown hair behind his ear. “Just for dinner, baby. I won’t be out long and I promise I’ll be back to make you pancakes in the morning, okay, sweetie?” 

He nodded before stepping closer and tiptoeing up to whisper in your ear. “Make sure he treat you good because you deserve whole world.” 

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging on to your waterline. You blinked them away quickly before your son could notice. 

Though, Bucky did. 

You kissed his forehead, and leaned back to look into his eyes. “You got it, cupcake.” 

Stepping forward, Bucky spoke up. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Mama and go get a movie set up, huh pal? I’ll be with you soon.” 

Before your son left, he hugged you. “Bye Mama, I loves you.” 

You smiled as he ran off. “I love you too, baby — and remember to be good!”

Only Bucky and you were left by the door, your blanket of comfortability was gone and you felt his eyes that held too many memories burning through you. 

“You really do look beautiful,” he vowed. 

Fuck, you internally cursed.

You tried not to look into his eyes while you fumbled with your dress. “Thank you, Bucky.” You quickly shifted the conversation. “If he doesn’t settle then text me, okay? My phone will be on loud and I’ll answer straight away—“ 

“As much as I— We would like you home, I’m sure we’ll survive without you for a couple of hours,” Bucky said, recovering from his hiccup smoothly. 

Your gazes met — you had always gotten lost in his eyes and even all these years later nothing had changed. 

Snapping out of your reverie, you shook your head and unlocked the door. “I’ll um— I’ll be back later.” 

Before you could leave, Bucky caught your hand. “Have fun, Doll.” 

And with all the strength you had, you delicately took your hand out of his, taking note of the tan line of where his wedding ring used to sit. “Bye, James.” 

The date went as expected. 

Your company for the night wasn’t a problem at all. In fact, this was the third date you had both been on together. However, the spark you had so badly tried to ignite through bland conversations and one already ringed out similar interest fell short. 

Every date you had been on since your divorce with Bucky seemed to lack a certain something for you. Although in recent light, you had come to terms with the fact you that no one’s eyes had the same shade of blue you were familiar with. Or made your heart jump in your chest from excited nerves years after your first meeting. 

Simply, you hated the fact you compared every single man to Bucky. 

With a sigh, you unlocked your door, careful to make as little noise as possible as you walked into your home. It was quiet, almost silent, apart from those damned footsteps that eased the weight off your chest and yet caused goosebumps to cascade down the bare skin of your arms.  

Bucky rounded the corner from your kitchen to the open plan living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand in the orange hue of the darkness, provided by a single lit lamp. 

“Hey,” he greeted you, the expression on his face imperceptible. “How was your date?” 

You cleared your throat, struggling to keep your composure from the sight of his tight black T-shirt and denim jeans that deliciously hugged his thighs. “Um yeah— it was— it was okay.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Just okay?” He laughed. “Come on, give me more than that.”

You sighed in defeat. “I told him it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore.” 

Unfortunately, there was only so much of a facade you could fake until it became noticeable to your date. It was an amicable decision with no hard feelings. But, it didn’t help to settle the confusing thoughts in your head. 

Bucky took a swig of his drink, placing it on the hallway side table before he began slowly pacing towards you. 

You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes, the way they feasted on your thighs or your waist. Backing up against the door until you physically couldn’t break free from the heat of his gaze, you could only watch as Bucky drew closer, right until you were a breath apart. 

He brought an arm up, over the top of your head to lean against the door. “Any reason why?” he asked, a husk to his tone that granted you no favours. 

A sudden pulse shot through your nerves, the ache between your thighs intense. It took everything in you to not rub them together. He would notice that you were sure of. 

Desperate to escape what was sure to be a dangerous situation, you quickly slid out of his invisible hold and hastily made your way to the kitchen to pour your own drink. Bucky joined you only seconds later. 

“How was cupcake?” you asked instead, attempting to switch the conversation to a safe topic. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.” 

“He was good as gold,” he instantly replied, staring you down. A beat later, “He whined about the ice cream situation, but I promised I’d take him out for it tomorrow and he was out like a light  — we had fun.” 

You slightly faltered as you poured the whiskey into a second glass. You didn’t miss his small innuendo of spending more time together.  

“Thanks for looking after him tonight. I know it was pretty useless anyway, but—“ 

Bucky trapped you against the counter as he placed his hand over yours, his deep baritone rumbling in your ears. “Don’t thank me for looking after my own son, you know I’d do it all the time if I could.” He took a deep breath. “If you would let me.” 

No. You couldn’t do this. 

You immediately dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen countertop, ripping yourself away from his touch to walk away. 

Bucky reached out as he followed you. “Babydoll—“ 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you scolded, fury in your voice. 

Bucky however, wasn’t deterred. “Doll.”

“No—“

“Will you just—“ he caught you with a firm grip and spun you around to face him. “Will you stop running away from me.” 

The two of you were out of breath from sudden adrenaline, harshly breathing into each other's mouths. The look in Bucky’s eyes was wild, untamed — tortured.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about it — us getting back together.” He gripped onto your arms, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me I’m delusional and I’ll walk out that door right now and we’ll never speak of this again.” 

The ache in his voice broke your heart as much as the day you signed the divorce papers. 

“Bucky—“ 

“Please.” He cupped your face with his hands, glancing between your eyes and your lips while his thumb slowly rubbed over them. “I’m a desperate man, baby. I’m desperate for you.” 

You gulped, emotion bubbling over into your voice. “We broke up, Bucky. We’re divorced.” 

He laughed wetly, but there was no humour in his tone. “And that means we can’t try again?” 

The reasons for your separation seemed to blur under his stare. All the ways you weren’t good for each other leaving your mind and only making room for the good. 

“Where the hell is this coming from, Bucky?” You deflected once again. 

Your hands shook as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of seeing you go out with another man again,” he whispered, painfully. “It’s killing me, Babydoll. It should be me.” 

Tears rushed over your cheeks, you were too overwhelmed to hold them back any longer. You sniffled as you glanced down the hall where you son currently lied fast asleep and obvlious. “I can’t hurt our son, Bucky — I can’t.” 

He smiled sadly at you, the crinkle in his eyes ever present but they only made you swoon for him even more. “There’s a reason all those dates don’t ever work out.” 

You couldn’t hear it, couldn’t take what he was trying to say. “Stop it.” 

“I know you’ve been holding back as much as I have.” 

He was pushing you, like he always did and as much as you wanted to curse him, it was working. “Please don’t make me—“

The point of no return came in the form of your most hidden secret spilling from Bucky’s lips. “You still love me, Babydoll.”

Ice ran through your veins, hearing those words out loud that you hadn’t dared let yourself believe. Your mouth gaped open, unable to find the words to deny his accusations until your tether broke. 

“Fine! I’m ruined for anyone else!” you shouted, frustrated and scared — a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You’ve ruined me — is that what you want to hear?”

His plump lips, soft and pink curled up. “It’s exactly what I want to hear.” 

Leaping forward, Bucky crashed his lips against yours. 

He was feverish as you both collided into each other. His hands, unrelenting yet gentle mapped out each and every slope of your body as you stood in the living room, feeling each other for the first time in years. 

“Fuck,” he groaned between kisses. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby.” 

Your head spun, dizzy with want. You hadn’t been touched in so long by anyone, never mind your ex-husband and your heart pounded erratically with nerves, excitement and longing. 

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, Bucky kissed you like he was starved, as though you were his only salvation. He ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it harshly to pull you closer to him even though there was no longer any distance between the two of you. 

“You’ve got no idea how bad I need you,” he whined into your mouth. “Need to fuckin’— I just need you.” 

Without you realising, Bucky had pushed you up against the nearest wall and even through denim jeans you could feel the hard shape of his cock while he unabashedly grinded against you. 

You broke for air, gasping as oxygen rushed to your lungs. “You have me, Bucky.” He trailed sloppy kisses down your neck as you panted, desperate to stain your skin with any trace of him. “You can have anything you want.” 

He growled, a sound that caused a gush of wetness to soak your panties. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, sweetheart.” 

Ripping away from you, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the laundry room on the other side of your house. You struggled to keep up with his fast strides in your heels, but you just about managed as he shoved you through the door and locked it behind him. 

His back was turned to you for a while and you stood nervously fidgeting, waiting for him to face you. His back rose and fell with breathless heaves, as though he was holding back — a feral beast ready to pounce. 

“Babydoll,” he said suddenly, rough and graveled. “I need to know you want this before I fuck the shit out of you.” 

Holy fuck, the mouth on this man. Your mouth grew dry while you struggled to think clearly in his aura. “I— I do—“ you stuttered, lamely.

He slowly turned around, a wolfish gleam in his eyes with adrenaline surging through his veins. He was tense as he took a deep breath. “Say it like you mean it.” 

When you stayed quiet, too hazy to speak, Bucky stalked towards you, lifting your chin up to look him directly in his eyes. “Say. It.”

Closing your eyes, you cleared your mind and swallowed before whispering, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name, Bucky.” 

He smirked, the kind you knew all too well — deadly. “Atta’ girl.” 

You sqeauled as he suddenly hiked you up into his arms, hands under your thighs so he could place you on top of the washing machine. Laundry detergents and other products you didn’t care to take note of fell from the shelves around you as he pounced on you once again, devouring you whole with his sinful lips. 

“Do you know how much I’ve had to restrain myself, Doll — Mm?” he pressed, covering every inch of bare skin you had to offer with his kisses. “How fuckin’ hard it’s been to not drag you back in the house and take you right then while you get dressed up for someone else?” 

You did. Because you understood more than anyone the pain of having to force yourself away from Bucky when all you had ever wanted was him. 

He unbuckled his belt, the telltale sound of the leather snapping against his hands and the jingle of metal sent bolts of electricity straight to your cunt.  

Your mind couldn’t keep up, your vision blurry with the sudden turn of events. All you knew was that you needed Bucky. 

“Hurry, baby. Please,” you whined. 

Bucky groaned with delight, his eyes rolling to the back of his head while he bit his swollen bottom lip. “Oh, how I’ve missed you begging for me, pretty mama.” 

Rushing to take off his belt, he slid the material through the loops of his jeans and threw it on the floor, not long after hurrying to unzip his fly and shuffle his pants down along with his underwear.

The tip of his cock peaked out of his black briefs and instantly you let out a high pitched moan, even shocking Bucky enough to look back up at you drooling over him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, slightly condescending. “Don’t you worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” 

Bucky revealed the entirety of his cock, the length just as long as you remembered and the girth as thick as you had imagined in your nights alone with your toys that couldn’t compare. 

The slight curve that you could feel the ghost of pleasure from to this day caused you to bite your lip and squirm in your place. 

Without waiting for Bucky, you began shifting the bottom of your dress up your thighs, too impatient to wait for him to undress you. It gave you immense satisfaction when he followed the material, slowly revealing more of your skin. His mouth gaped open while he fell to his knees, the thud that sounded surely must have hurt, but there was no other expression on his face than greed. 

You stopped your dress just before Bucky could peak at your red panties and you almost laughed when his head shot up, aghast that you had interrupted the show. 

The power you held, you smirked. “You want more, Daddy?” 

Bucky dropped his head onto your thighs, his breath travelling up to your covered mound — your eyes fluttered, though you kept your breathing steady to not seem so desperate. 

Stroking your fingers through his fluffy hair, you murmured low, “Does it hurt to know my pussy is right here and you can’t have it?” 

You felt his muscles quickly lock up, his head snapping up to you with a speed that was frightening and exhilarating all at once. The blue of his irises darkened, dilating as he chuckled, “You’re very much mistaken, sweetheart. Because this pussy right here,” he shoved your dress up, spread your legs and breathed into you. “She’s mine, baby girl. And you’ve kept her from me long enough.” 

A chilled blast of air hit you as Bucky tore your panties from your waist and held them up. “You wore these slutty panties for that fucker, huh?” 

You gasped in shock when he brought them to his nose and inhaled the gusset deeply. He grunted as he closed his eyes in bliss. “Cos’ I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s got you this soaked.” 

Your keens amused him greatly. “Bucky—“ 

“That’s right, mama,” he laughed with pride. “My name sounds so damn heavenly coming from your lips.” 

Bucky pocketed your underwear, not caring to be discreet and his thumbs came up to your cunt to spread you open to his eager eyes. “My god, baby,” he gasped in awe. Your hole clenched at the vulgar display. “You’re just as tight as the last time I had you.” 

He tested a finger over your folds, running it through the embarrassing amount of slick that coated you. 

“No one,” you breathed, shaking your head while willing your scrambled thoughts to formulate into words. “There’s been— there hasn’t—“ 

Bucky looked up at you from his knelt position, a small slither of vulnerability shining through his lust-hooded eyes. “Just me?” 

You gulped and nodded, staring into his wide blues with honesty. “Just you.”

A moment passed between you. The charged air filtered down to that spark that had always been buried through the heartbreak you both endured in your divorce. 

Bucky swallowed before placing a single kiss to the inside of your knee. “Then let me make up for that.” 

You leaned your head back against the shelf behind you as his lips traveled up the meat of your thighs, yelping each time he gently bit you. 

He murmured obscenities you could barely respond to as he edged closer to your pussy. You offered yourself freely, on a platter, as your legs opened even wider for him — the only man who ever truly owned you. 

His lips whispered over your mound, a hint for what was about to come. “I’ve been waiting to taste you again for years.” 

You moaned aloud, unhinged and unapologetic while Bucky licked a fat stripe up your cunt. Your nerves were alight with pure fire and you instantly grabbed onto the back of his head to push him further into you. 

You didn’t care if the action was needy — one single touch of him and you were a goner once again. 

He feasted on you, not coming up for air as he switched between sucking your clit and slurping your juices. “Oh my god— Bucky, baby you gotta— holy fuck.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Bucky wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and dragged you closer to him — all too happy to suffocate between your legs. “Sweet as a fuckin’ apple pie,” he murmured into you, the vibrations only deepening your pleasure. 

Looking down at him, his eyes were homed in on you, watching your every expression. They were blown out, wild while strands of his hair stuck out in every direction. 

Pulling away slightly, his heavy pants blew over your throbbing clit. “Daddy makin’ you feel good, Babydoll?” 

You hardly had time to reply as he immediately shoved his tongue into your clenching hole and fucked you with it. 

“Bucky!” you screamed to the ceiling. However, a harsh slap delivered to your thigh snapped you back to sense. 

“You know that’s not what you call me,” he barked. 

Whining, you corrected yourself. “Daddy, please!” 

You felt his smirk plastered over your pussy as he hummed into you, “There’s my good girl.” 

Your legs began to shake as you felt your climax creep to the surface and Bucky only doubled down with his sinful tongue that you somehow had forgotten he was way too talented with. 

“I’m close,” you whispered as your vision began to blur. “So close — please, please don’t stop.” 

Bucky continued his ministrations while your pussy fluttered around his tongue. Your release was within reaching distance and you gripped the washing machine, ready to let go until suddenly his presence was gone. 

You almost fell forward before you caught yourself with your remaining strength. The pent up tension that was wound in your stomach hadn’t loosened and it took you a second to realise you hadn’t cum. 

“W—what?” you mumbled shakily as you blinked your eyes open. Bucky stood there, his cock pulsing and viciously purple, with a smirk on his face, wiping his slick covered mouth with his arm. It disorientated you. 

“I haven’t—“ you swallowed the dryness of your mouth. “You didn’t make me—“ 

Bucky’s cock bobbed as he closed the distance between you, dizzying you even further with a passionate kiss. “No I didn’t, baby.” 

You whimpered in despair, the ache worsening. “But Daddy—“

“Nu-uh,” he breathed while lining his cock against your hole. “You’re only gonna fuckin’ cum when I say you can.”

Recklessly, Bucky pushed his full length into your pussy. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into him as the sheer size of his thick cock winded you enough to wail out. 

“Shit,” he cursed, a strain in his voice as he firmly gripped your hips. “Fuckin’ hell— Babydoll, how the fuck are you still so tight.” 

Impatiently, you fidgeted. Whether it was to escape how full he made you or try and force him deeper into your cunt you weren’t sure. All of it was too overwhelming to process.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, tears building over your glassy eyes. “You’re too big— Bucky, I can’t—“ 

“Yes you can,” he declared with conviction while he lifted your gaze to him. “You can take it, sweetheart.” 

Slowly, Bucky began to ease out of your cunt. His cock was coated with your wetness and he moaned deeply at the sight. He grinded back into you, his curved tip hitting every sensitive spot. 

“There we go,” he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, praising you. “Taking my cock so good, Babydoll. Just like always.” 

His touch was familiar, yet new — all consuming and claiming — and you melted into him, smothering his neck with a litany of kisses as he continued to gently thrust his cock into you. 

“M—Missed you,” you confessed, drunk from lust and emotion. “Missed you so much, Bucky.” 

The motion of his hips sped up as he began pounding into you with more force. “Yeah? You missed being a sweet little wife for me?” He taunted with an evil grin. “You loved being Daddy’s little slut, didn’t you?” 

“Mhm— Always your slut, Daddy!” You sobbed into his skin. 

His pace turned unrelenting, fierce after too much lost time. He fucked you as though he would be left out to dry after he was done. 

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, Babydoll,” he grunted. “Don’t care who’s fuckin’ taking you on dates. You belong to me.” 

Nodding your head, you fell mute, mouth gaped wide as you felt the knot begin to build up in your stomach once more. 

Bucky looked down to watch his dick glisten with your slick. The obscene sounds created from the amount of your juices leaking out only caused his cock to throb. Your cunt squelched with each thrust he made. But it wasn’t enough for him. 

Gathering saliva in his mouth, Bucky spat to where the two of you connected, groaning as it clung to your pussy and stringed out with his motions. 

Your squeals of pleasure began to get louder as the coil tightened, “I’m gonna—“ 

Before you could rush the words out, Bucky pleaded, “Tell me you love me.” 

Your eyes snapped up to his, more alert now. He didn’t falter, only fucked you with more abandon. 

“Tell me you love me,” he repeated once more, a demand this time.

“Bucky, I—“ 

“I know you do, Doll.” His hips started to twitch, his telltale sign that he was also close to cumming. However, you had an inclination that he wouldn’t let himself go until you gave him what you wanted. “I know you remember how good it used to be. Let me come home and I’ll fuck you this good whenever you want.” 

You gurgled around his fingers as he suddenly shoved them into your mouth, collecting the drool gathered on your tongue to bring them down to your clit. He didn’t ease them against you, instead rubbing tight circles rapidly, bringing you closer to the edge faster. 

It was impossible to escape his dark eyes or the fierce hold of his hand at the back of your neck. “Feels so fucking good, Daddy!” you blurted.

“I know, mama,” he assured as he drove his cock into you even harder. “Your cunt feels like heaven.” 

“I wanna cum,” you cried. “I need to cum.” 

“You know what you’ve gotta do then, don’t you, Babydoll?” 

You squeezed your eyes closed. The pleasure started to blend into a mix of pain and you were only slightly ashamed that it only turned you on more. “I—“ 

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want.” A few more punishing thrusts and you were treading the line of your impending orgasm. Your thighs shook violently and beads of sweat dripped down your chest. But when Bucky grounded out his next words, you fell apart. “Be a good wife for Daddy and tell me the truth.” 

You couldn’t hold back any longer, the balance of your orgasm tipping over along with the truth you tried to withhold. “I love you, Bucky!” 

Instantly, you felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock, a warm shoot of his load filling your cunt while you silently screamed and shook with the intensity of your climax. 

Everything fell deaf to your ears as you fought to catch your breath, slumping against Bucky. His heavy breaths blew your stray hairs sticking out from the sweat gathered on your head while his hips continued to slowly pump into you from the aftershocks of his own orgasm. 

You were brought back to the present with the gentle touch of his lips pressing against your cheeks, kissing your skin delicately. “Hey there, Babydoll.” 

While you would have normally been nervous, the energy that he had drained you of allowed your inhibitions and walls to crumble, leaving you to smile drunkenly at him. “Hi,” you whispered. 

Bucky checked you over, darting his eyes over your face. “You feeling okay?” 

“Mhm,” you mumbled, bringing your thumb up to swipe over his stubble you had always been fond of. “Freshly fucked and never better.” 

The corner of his lips curved up, a small mirth of laughter escaping him. He licked his lips and you detected a hint of nerves that crossed over his features. “I um— I’m sorry if I—“ 

You placed your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him. “You didn’t go too rough.” Slowly, you brought your finger down, hooking it into the collar of his shirt. “I enjoyed myself.” 

“Good.” He brought one of your hands up to his mouth to kiss the palm of your hand. “Good.” 

The two of you barely noticed his length still deep in you. All that you cared for was the weight suddenly released from your chest. 

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked, cutting through the peaceful silence. He was defenseless, all guards down with a shimmer of hope twinkling in his ocean eyes. 

You knew exactly what he was referring to and you inhaled deeply before you replied, “I did.” 

He swallowed thickly, his emotion clear though his bright eyes. “I love you too — so fuckin’ much.” He nuzzled into your neck as your hand held him close to you. “I’ve missed you.” 

A lump gathered in your throat once more. Breathing in Bucky’s scent freely, without guilt this time, you sunk into his embrace even further. 

“Can I come home?” he whispered into your skin, a desperate plea. “I’ll do whatever you want — I’ll go to counseling with you, we can take things slow. I just need you back, Babydoll.” 

The answer was simple. You knew in your heart there was no one else for you, no one better. No matter your differences, everything would always lead back to Bucky and you were willing to give the two of you a second chance. 

“Okay,” you answered softly. 

His head shot up, eyes wide and red from the tears you felt gathering on your neck. “Okay?” he repeated hopefully. 

You smiled, kissing him gently on the lips before you muttered, “Come back home, baby.”

The pan sizzled on the stove as you cooked the last pancake, a stack already piled high on the counter next to you for breakfast. 

Music played softly on the radio and you swayed your hips side to side, covered by a long T-shirt, while you hummed to yourself. 

You were interrupted from your task when a pair of thick arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you from behind tightly. “Yknow, I could have had my breakfast in bed,” Bucky grumbled into your ear, his deep morning voice causing your eyes to slightly flutter. 

You huffed a laugh before you mumbled, “I bet you could, greedy.” 

The bristles of his trimmed beard tickled your skin as he playfully nibbled your neck. “Can’t exactly blame a man when his woman tastes so sweet, Babydoll.” 

Your head started to feel heavy as you gave into his kisses, leaning back into his hold and opening yourself up for him. 

“There’s a good girl,” Bucky praised you. “You just let Daddy—“

Peaking an eye open, you watched as his hand crept forward, about to pinch a pancake from the pile. He yelped as you swatted his hand away, a pout on his lips while you grinned. 

“Nice try, Daddy,” you teased, smugly. 

Before Bucky could retort back, a sluggish set of small footsteps sounded over the floorboards and you whipped around to find your son, still sleepy, making his way to the dining table. 

“Morning, cupcake!” you greeted him cheerfully. 

With difficulty, he climbed his way onto one of the chairs, huffing with the effort and sinking down once comfortable. He looked towards you, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Mornin’, mama—“ 

Frowning, your son looked towards Bucky, finally noticing him too. “Dadda?” he asked, confused. 

“Hey, pal.” Bucky treaded, carefully. 

Your son’s gaze fell to the lack of distance between you and Bucky, his hand still lingering on your waist. Keeping your composure, you waited nervously for his reaction. 

“He treat you good, mama?” he asked all so innocently with a hint of fierceness in his bright blue eyes. 

You watched with bated breath as Bucky stepped towards him, leaning over the table with his palm up to your son. “I’m gonna take good care of mama, “ he promised with sincerity. 

Your son deliberated for a moment before nodding his head and reached out to hold his Dad’s hand. “Okay, can I have pancakes now?” 

You sighed a breath of relief. “Of course, baby.” 

It was silent for a moment, in your small kitchen while you plated up breakfast for your family. Bucky and you shared an intimate smile until your son spoke up once again. “Just don’t forget about the ice cream you promised me.” 

Laughter filled the entirety of the kitchen, a home once again bathed in love — your perfect little family. 

[sunflowerhyun]

how he sees me | hwang hyunjin | part three

ᝰ summary: “Do you love me?” she asked.

In his hesitation, she found her answer.

OR, alternatively, Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.

ᝰ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

ᝰ genre: ex-childhood-friends-to-lovers, punk!hyunjin au

ᝰ warnings: cursing, references to past situations (in italics), alcohol consumption, angst, themes of jealousy (from both parties), mentions of body insecurity, mentions of death and grieving

ᝰ wc: 6-8k ish ?

ᝰ a/n: part three in da books, hope you all like it ! also, gif is not mine — all creds to the owner !

ᝰ reference the masterlist here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Y/N has only experienced the true feeling of rage twice in her life.

The first time was when her grandma passed away when she was only 16 years old. Her grandma was her best friend, (Hyunjin was a close second—he knew he couldn’t compare), and Y/N talked to her the same way she talked to him. Whenever she wasn’t spending time at Hyunjin’s house, they were always at her grandmas. She treated Hyunjin like he was family, and he treated her as his own nana. She would make them breakfast most mornings, (scrambled eggs with cheese, crispy bacon, and chocolate chip pancakes—that was always Hyunjin’s request), let them have sleepovers in her basement that was either always way too hot or way too cold, let them swim in her pool every summer, (where they mainly played mermaids, despite Hyunjin’s request), and sit at her kitchen table to stay up to date on the latest gossip at school while they sipped on mocktails (so they could fit the vibe more while nana had a glass of wine, listening in and chiming in). In a way, her nana was their third pea in the pod, and her nana was the only one that knew of her feelings towards Hyunjin.

Y/N’s sophomore year was tough. Breast cancer hit her nana harder than they thought it would, and by the time it was identified, it was simply too late. So when the doctors gave Y/N’s family the decision to let her die in a hospital bed or die in the comfort of her home, of course they picked the latter. When she was finished with school, she would come straight to her nana’s to take care of her, to tend to her needs. Hyunjin would come with her, would sing to her nana per her request. She always told Hyunjin he had a lovely voice, (“Such a lovely voice for such a lovely boy. You will go far in life, my dear,”), and he always sang I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You, as that was her favorite song and Elvis was her favorite artist. He would hold her hand, singing to her, but always found himself looking back to Y/N.

She passed away after a long two years in the comfort of her bed, surrounded by people she loved.

Grief hit her hard, but rage hit her even harder. She was angry at cancer, angry at the doctors who couldn’t just fix her, angry at God for not listening to her prayers. The feeling consumed her for months, had changed her attitude completely—but Hyunjin stayed with her, and he laid with her, and he was patient with her until she had finally grown to accept it.

The second time she experienced the feeling of rage was right now.

She hadn’t felt it in so long she almost forgot what it felt like. As soon as she laid eyes on a tall, skinny, fit woman with blonde hair that elegantly flowed down her shoulders, face perfectly caked with make-up and designer clothes covering her from head to toe, multiple feelings hit her at once.

The first was insecurity—which was a given. The woman was simply everything Y/N was not, the complete opposite of her, and she was gorgeous. She felt out of place sitting on the couch in her outfit she bought from a local thrift store, and suddenly had the urge to cover up her stomach that was now slightly peaking out from her sitting down. So she did just that, pulling her shirt together so it covered her. Only then did she realize her thighs were now ten times bigger now that she was also sitting down, and she shifted away from Hyunjin, his hands falling down to his own.

The second feeling she felt was jealousy. The woman was obviously beautiful, obviously had money, obviously well-respected from the way she carried herself, and Y/N was full of envy. Not particularly at all of those reasons, but because she was able to catch Hyunjin’s attention. She was able to hold him, to kiss on him, to be with him, and Y/N just wasn’t. And that’s when the rage peeked through. It built up slowly, but it quickly consumed her, just as it did years ago.

She stood up so fast it almost gave her whiplash, not even sparring Hyunjin another glance, shoving her way past the woman who had very loudly and obnoxiously called her a bitch as she did so. She couldn’t blame her for it, she had quite literally shoved past her so hard that she had stumbled a bit, but Y/N couldn’t help it. She was embarrassed, disappointed in herself, and livid—and she just wanted to get the hell out of there.

It wasn’t until she had stepped outside the trailer, the sun beating down on her face and the heat crawling its way back on her skin, that she heard someone yell her name. It was frantic, desperate.

She ignored it, feet stomping in front of her in the grass as she sped-walked further away, a hand suddenly gripping her wrist, softly pulling her back. “Y/N, stop! Please.” The voice was heard again, even more desperate than before, cracking slightly at the end. She shoved his hand off of her, not daring to turn around and face him because she knew she would cave in again, and she just can’t.

He let her go, but the footsteps followed, eventually making themselves prominent in front of her as they forced her to come to a stop. She still didn’t look at him.

“Y/N,” He panted out like he was out of breath, eyes pleading, voice scratchy, “Y/N, please just… can you just—“

“Fuck you, Hyunjin,” She let out sharply, slowly, “Just stop. You’ve obviously got more important things to do than to be chasing after me like this and bringing attention to yourself.”

She still didn’t look at him. His breaths became more faint. “Good luck with performing. I hope it makes you happy. I hope she makes you happy.”

She turned away then. He didn’t try to stop her.

——>

The walk back to Felix and Minho didn’t take as long as she thought it would. Blame it completely on the fact that she was beyond pissed at anything and everything in the world, walking so fast and shoving through literally everyone she walked past. It was actually quite easy finding them because of that when normally she would be a little timid and definitely more polite when it came to getting through large crowds. When she spotted Felix and Minho standing near the B stage, cheering and jumping up and down from a band that was currently performing, her feet carried her even faster over there.

“Heeeeey, bub,” Felix slurred out once she came into view, face slightly flushed from all the alcohol he has consumed and from the UV index being a whole 10 the entire day. He must have not worn any sunscreen. “We’ve missed yoooou! This festival is lit, forreal. I don’t know why we have never come to one of these things before.” His smile was so wide, teeth shining from the sunlight, cheeks red and freckles lathering his face. He looked so happy, so carefree. Y/N envied it.

He pulled her into a hug then, the sweat pooling off of him soaking its way onto her shirt, and she hugged him back despite the lingering feeling of annoyance she had. For a second, she imagined it was Hyunjin she was hugging, and bliss overcame her. But then, blonde hair and red lips came into her view, and she quickly shoved him off of her. Felix didn’t seem to notice the gesture, still looking at her with a giant smile plastered on his face, beer bottle dangling in his hands. He swayed a bit, bringing the bottle up to his lips, holding out his free hand towards her, wiggling his fingers. Y/N simply did not want to be touched anymore than she already had, so she stepped forward, pretending she didn’t see him.

“What, you don’t wanna hold my hand?” Felix asked with a slight pout. Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching down at the bucket of beers at their feet and pulling one out. She ignored him, popping the cap and taking a large gulp, immediately gagging and coughing right after. She felt a hand patting her back, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a grimace on her face.

“You don’t even like beer,” Minho spoke out as if she didn’t already know that.

“I don’t. But I lost my mango margarita, so this will have to do.”

“How did you manage to lose your margarita?”

“Just lost it going to the bathroom.” She mumbled back, taking another god-forsaken sip of the beer. Minho let out a hum in response, like he didn’t exactly believe her. Y/N could feel his stare on her, choosing to ignore it and not say anything back.

“Oh, Y/N,” Felix’s voice spoke rather loudly, giving her arm a little tug. She looked over at him, seeing a woman now standing beside him. “This is Dani. I met her earlier today. Wanted you two to meet!”

Dani was also gorgeous, hair up into a high ponytail, legs long and tan, shorts hugging her hips just right. Y/N could see that she was also fit and she immediately frowned, because why can’t she look like that?

“Hi!” Dani grinned, and Felix immediately let out a fit of giggles. He leaned his body into her and she didn’t hesitate to wrap her hands around him. “I’ve heard so much about you the entire day. I’m Dani, but you already know that.”

Her smile was so genuine, eyes sparkling at the sight of Felix who was still giggling like a love-struck maniac. “I think he might’ve had a little too much to drink.”

Y/N’s eyes followed the direction of Dani’s hands delicately wrapped around his waist, the way her body just naturally leaned into him, her cheeks red and eyes glistening in amusement. She took in a breath before replying, “Yeah. Looks like you’ve got it under control though.”

She was happy for him—really, she was. Felix deserved to find someone who would look at him like that. It was even better that she didn’t look like she just wanted to sleep with him and be done with it. She genuinely looked like a nice girl with good intentions. So of course, Y/N was happy for him. She just wasn’t happy.

Dani smiled at her in reply, her attention on Y/N then falling onto Felix as he began whispering something in her ear, a fit full of giggles coming out of the both of them. Y/N turned away from them, eyes focusing on the band currently performing, putting the beer bottle up to her lips.

“They’ll be coming on soon,” Minho spoke up, bumping his shoulder with Y/N’s. She didn’t need to ask who they were, stomach feeling a little queasy at the mention of them. She let out a small hum in response. “They’ll also have a little longer stage time than the others. It can get pretty intense, especially with their fans around us. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Thanks, but it’s all good.” She responded with a curt nod of her head.

She could feel Minho looking at her again, could hear Felix and Dani beside her laughing, could see the mass of people dancing to the music that was currently playing. The sun was starting to go down, the sweat drying on her back, and she took in a breath, taking another sip of the beer.

——>

The stars were out.

Y/N was four beers in, feeling a little fuzzy but nothing like a couple nights ago, swaying to the music that was playing over the speakers. Another band had just finished performing and now it was a brief intermission before the last band of the night came on to end the night. Y/N knew who this band would be, had been dreadfully yet excitingly expecting it for hours. The feeling in her stomach was getting stronger each second that passed, hands slightly shaking in anticipation of the next few minutes, and yet the only thing she could seem to think of was that the stars were out.

There wasn’t too many of them, just a couple scattered across the night sky. She noticed that the brightest one seemed to be towards her right, directly over the stage, and she began to count them one by one as another memory took over her mind.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, plopping down beside Hyunjin who was currently sat on the bench, bookbag lying on his lap. His body was slouched down, head against the top of the back of the bench, seemingly mumbling to himself. He didn’t answer her, continuing to mumble to himself, eyes focused on the stars lining the sky in front of them.

“Hello?” She tried again, snapping her fingers in front of his face, placing her down bookbag beside her on the bench. Hyunjin quickly swat her hand away, and she let out a little giggle at the now annoyed look on his face. She asked her question again, copying his position on the bench and scooting closer to him.

“Counting stars,” He grumbled back, continuing to list off what she now recognized as numbers. She didn’t say anything back, glancing up at the sky.

The sound of the double-doors opening and voices were heard behind them, Y/N assuming it was the rest of Hyunjin’s teammates who were making their way outside the school to get in their cars and head home. Hyunjin had a late practice today, so Y/N was stuck doing homework while she waited on him for two and a half hours since he was her ride home. She didn’t mind it, though.

“28!” He shouted, and Y/N jumped slightly, “28 stars! At least that’s what I can see in front of me.”

Y/N hummed in response, letting out a yawn, rubbing her eyes gently. Hyunjin turned his head to face her, “You’re tired already? You’ve barely done anything today. You must have gotten tired watching me do all that running on the field.”

Y/N hit him lightly on the shoulder in reply, mumbling at him to shut up, and he let out a soft chuckle in reply. The sound of car doors slamming shut and engines starting up were suddenly heard, and Y/N glanced up to see that everyone was starting to head home. She looked back over to Hyunjin. He was already looking back at the sky.

“Infinity,” He spoke out in a soft tone, voice carrying through the soft breeze. Y/N looked at him in confusion. “You know how long it would take to actually count the stars? Infinity. That’s what’s so interesting about it. You think you’ve counted them all, think you’ve finally got it down, but then another one pops up and then you’re counting again. Just a never ending cycle. You’ll never get it right, no matter how much you want to.”

His hair was held back with a headband, softly moving from the wind, posture relaxed, eyes soft and showing a bit of exhaustion. The words sat for a minute, then as if he broke out of a trance, he turned towards her, “Sorry. I know you’re ready to go home. We can go now.”

He moved his hand to dig into the pocket on his shorts to retrieve his keys, but Y/N stopped him, gently placing her hand on top of his. He looked at her, curling up into a little ball as she scooted even closer to him, hands wrapping around his arm.

“It’s okay. We can stay a little bit longer.”

A shrill of screams suddenly broke her out of her little trance, the crowd seeming to go completely wild as the lights turned off. It was dark, the screams growing even more intense as a guitar riff began playing over the speakers. The beat then changed to an upbeat R&B sound, strobe lights flashing in red colors as a video of each of the members began playing on the big screen, ending with Hyunjin. He was posing for the camera, a white tank top on with tight leather pants, long hair slicked back. She felt her heart begin to race when the video cut off and it went black again.

It wasn’t long before the music started up again, the lights immediately coming back on, the beginning of a song starting. Screams began to ring through her ears, more intense than before, and she stumbled a little as she felt someone knock into her backside, Minho being quick to steady her and shoot a glare at whoever it was behind them. She had stumbled again, Minho now shouting at the swarm of people behind them, but Y/N didn’t pay attention to that. How could she, when Hyunjin was now visible on the stage, the lights twinkling behind him so elegantly.

He was dressed in a red silk cardigan with a black tank top underneath, black leather pants framing his legs so perfectly. Half of his hair was tied back into a bun making his facial features more prominent, making his eyes even more darker than they already were. Y/N could tell by the way he was carrying himself on the stage that something was off. Chan and Han were yelling at the crowd, running down the walk-way while playing their guitars, the crowd going crazy. Changbin was standing up behind the drums twirling the drumsticks in his hands, a smirk on his face. And Hyunjin was standing in the center, seemingly frozen in place.

It wasn’t until Changbin hit the drums that seemed to bring him out of his little trance as he began prancing down the stairs to stand in front of his mic. He grabbed it with both of his hands, closing his eyes as he began to sing the beginning of the song.

Time stopped.

Suddenly, Y/N couldn’t see the swarm of people standing around her. She couldn’t feel them knocking into her back, couldn’t hear their voices that were overpowering the song. Everything was a blur, a simple fragment of her imagination—everything was a blur, except for him.

Y/N always knew Hyunjin could sing. He had that ability to perfect everything he did, so of course it was no surprise when she heard him for the first time.

The first time she heard him was when they were both fifteen, in their freshman year of high school. Y/N had just gotten dropped off at his house, had made her way up the stairs and towards his bedroom, when she heard him. He was in the shower, the bathroom door cracked open slightly, singing the words to She Will Be Loved. She found herself walking closer to the door, heart pounding in her chest, hand opening the door a little bit wider to hear him better. He had stopped, then, calling out her name. She stumbled back, a string of apologies coming out of her mouth.

“You wanna see me naked or something?” He had said to tease her.

“No, you idiot! I was trying to hear you sing.”

She remembered how his grin dropped so suddenly, so uneasily—the droplets of his wet hair falling down, soaking his t-shirt. He looked as if he was experiencing an inner turmoil, eyes looking everywhere but at her, cheeks pink in slight embarrassment.

“It’s beautiful,” She whispered out. He looked back at her. “You’re beautiful, Jinnie.”

Y/N always knew Hyunjin could sing, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

It had started off soft, smooth, sweet—just like honey. Then it began to progress into something entirely foreign, entirely compelling. His voice got louder, more intense, and then he was belting out lyrics in a way Y/N had never experienced before. And as he stood there, expressing himself in a light Y/N had never seen him in, she felt it. All the years of friendship—the years of heartbreak, of self-acceptance, of discovery, of love—she felt it all, and she felt it hard. It was overpowering, hitting her all at once like a train crushing her body at full speed. Except it wasn’t a train, after all. It was Hyunjin.

It was always Hyunjin.

Suddenly, she felt a soft pressure on her hand. It knocked her out of her trance for a second as she glanced over, seeing that Minho had grabbed ahold of her hand. It was gentle, barely there at all, but she found herself smiling softly at the gesture, noting that he wasn’t exactly the type to show any form of affection. She didn’t realize a tear had fallen down her cheek until it reached her chin. He must have noticed sooner.

She held it back.

——>

“I can’t believe you didn’t go home with Lix and his new fling.”

Y/N looked at Minho, hands playing with the ends of her braids as she sat on the couch, mumbling out a small thanks as he handed her a cup of diet coke. “Did you just hear what came out of your mouth? Of course I’m not going home with them.”

“Yeah but I doubt you wanna be here either,” He replied, leg bumping against hers as he sat down beside her. He glanced at her, “You can go back to mine if you want. You really don’t have to be here. I can call a ride for you.”

She took a sip of the diet coke, wishing there was some rum in it, but not particularly in the mood to drink anymore tonight. “I’m fine. If I want to leave, I’ll leave, trust me.”

Minho didn’t look too convinced, (he never did), taking a sip of his beer before letting out a sigh. He was about to say something else when a chorus of screams flew through the room. She looked up, seeing that Chan, Han, Changbin, and a couple of other people were coming in the room. She tried to ignore the slight feeling of disappointment she felt when she didn’t see Hyunjin.

Minho immediately stood up, heading straight towards Chan and the other guys. Y/N could hear him telling him how sick they sounded, how awesome they looked on stage. Y/N could not agree more—they were definitely the highlight of the entire festival. She understood now why the crowd was so hype and why so many people were swooning over them. They were all great looking guys, could all play instruments and sing exceptionally well, could all carry a rhythm when they moved. So really, it was no surprise that they were successful.

A call of her name broke her out of her thoughts and she glanced up to see that Minho was waving her over. She quickly stood up, not wanting to be more rude than she already was, and made her way over towards them, Minho placing a hand over her back as he edged her closer.

“Y/N!” Chan grinned, wasting no time in pulling her into a quick hug, “I’m so glad you came! I hope you enjoyed yourself and we didn’t completely suck cause that would be really embarrassing otherwise.”

“Of course not,” She giggled in reply, “You guys were amazing, seriously. I’ve never been to a festival like this before but you guys stole the show, by far.”

“Don’t make me blush, now,” He teased, “But seriously, thanks for coming and supporting us. Means a lot. To all of us.”

Y/N’s smile loosened a little at his comment, feeling like there was a deeper meaning behind it, especially when seeing the sincerity and softness in Chan’s expression. Before she could say anything back, Chan had pat Minho on the back, flicking his head over towards the table full of food and drinks. “Want anything to eat? We’ve got an entire table full of whatever you can think of. Drinks, too. Get whatever you want.”

“I can go grab us a plate to share,” Y/N offered, seeing that the other guys and a couple of women were now making their way over to them. Her social anxiety was starting to brew, and she was a little hungry.

Minho nodded at her before beginning to engage with the other guys and Y/N took this as her cue to head to the food table. She politely greeted one of the waitresses who was standing behind the table before grabbing ahold of a plate, awkwardly making her way down the table in search of what they would want. Chan really wasn’t lying when he said there would be anything you could think of.

She was reaching for a couple of bacon wrapped jalapeños when a voice startled her.

“Hey,” The voice spoke, causing Y/N to jump a little as she whipped her head around, eyes widening slightly in surprise when seeing Han standing beside her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine,” She let out in reply, voice soft, timid. What was he doing here talking to her? Shouldn’t he be talking to everyone else?

He let out a sigh before grabbing a bacon wrapped jalapeño from the table, popping it in his mouth. It was silent for a couple seconds, the only sounds being from the distant chatter in the background and his light smacking. Y/N could practically feel the waitresses eyes boring holes into her, probably also wondering why he was making conversation with her.

She was adding a couple of veggies to the plate when he began to speak again. “So, uh—I felt like I needed to apologize. To you.”

Y/N could feel her hands starting to sweat. “You don’t—“

“Yes, I do,” He quickly cut her off, grabbing another popper. He let out another sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean to make such a scene earlier today. To be fair, I didn’t know what you looked like. Obviously I know who you are from Hyunjin, but he never showed me pictures or anything like that. He was always weird about it. I just know you guys have some history and all that and you mean a lot to the guy, so.”

Y/N could feel her ears start to ring, the sweat now becoming more prominent on her hands she felt like the plate would slip right out. Her mouth was starting to go dry, throat closing up, because what did he just say? Hyunjin talked about her?

“And that was just totally uncalled for, anyway. I mean, you falling and getting hurt and everything. I hope you didn’t get too hurt, by the way. Our bodyguards can be too much sometimes. Anyway, I just wanted to come up and formally apologize to you. I hope—“

It was as if one word was going through one ear and out the other, Y/N not able to comprehend anything else coming out of Han’s mouth. It was not that she didn’t appreciate his apology, or his now constant rambling, but the fact that Hyunjin had just walked in. And the same girl from earlier was with him.

The feeling of rage slowly started to creep back inside her seeing that she was perched so delicately on his arm. Her hands were manicured perfectly, fitting oh so perfectly wrapped around his arm. Y/N wondered for a second if he paid for them, if he treated her to a spa day frequently so she could always have them so pretty and soft. So pretty and soft for him.

Her smile was wide, teeth so white and straight, lips adorned with a sensual shade of red. Hyunjin always said he liked red lipstick on a girl, as red reminded him of roses, of intimacy, of love. Did he make her wear red all the time? Did he love the way her lips felt against his? Did he love her?

Of course he did—he had to.

And what makes the icing on the cake is the fact that she is exactly what she always pictured as his type. Fit, stylish, petite—she looked like someone you would see in a painting. She fit his aesthetic. She fit him.

And god—seeing her wrapped around him hurt. It hurt a lot.

She hated it.

“Nice, they have our favorites!” Minho let out excitingly, grabbing a popper from the plate she was still holding. She didn’t even realize he had made his way over here. He must have been here for a minute, as Han didn’t greet him, nodding his head in agreement, mouth full of poppers. “Did ya eat already?” He mumbled out.

“Yep,” She lied, not having much of an appetite at all now. She doesn’t think she could stomach anything right now.

“God, these are so good.” Minho groaned out after pulling her into his side, making conversation with Han. Y/N could feel her eyes boring holes into the woman who was now speaking with another group of women, laughing so loudly and so obnoxiously that she just wanted to go throw this plate of damned jalapeños on her Chanel dress.

Minho had leaned over her to grab a couple more, placing one in front of her lips in attempt to feed her, as he sometimes did with her and Felix. She didn’t really want to, but didn’t want to make Minho start asking if she was okay again, so she took a bite, pretending she liked it even though she didn’t want to.

Glancing back up, instead of her eyes locking back on the woman stuck up Hyunjin’s ass, she found her eyes locked on him. And he was already starring back.

Someone was talking to him, arm wrapped around his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. She watched as his gaze went from being on her to being on Minho’s arm that was still around her body. His gaze darkened, eyebrows furrowing as he watched him pull her closer once he laughed at something Han had said, eyes shooting back up towards her own.

It was starting to feel hot. She felt like her body was on fire, could practically feel sweat trailing down her back. He kept looking at her like she was his last meal, and it was starting to suffocate her.

“Here, take this,” She handed the plate of food to Minho who took it without complaint, “I’m gonna go outside for a sec. I’ll be back.”

Not waiting on him to reply, she quickly shook out of his arms and made her way towards the back door, swiftly opening it and letting out a gasp of air. It was much cooler out here, less suffocating; she finally felt like she could breathe again.

She let out another breath before walking over towards the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the ground. She tilted her head back, glancing up at the sky, taking the time to begin counting them in her head in attempts to calm herself down a bit.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… and then the door opened.

She kept counting, kept her gaze on the sky, kept focusing on her breathing. Because if she didn’t, she would look over to see who had just came outside. And she had a feeling she knew who it would be.

Her guess was right.

“I didn’t know you would be here.”

The words hung in the air for a couple seconds, heart constricting lightly at the tone. She still didn’t look over.

She had gotten to fifteen when he spoke again.

“Why are you here?”

She tried to ignore the pang she felt in her chest at his question, wanting to slam herself against the wall when realizing he wasn’t going to leave even if she ignored him. He never did.

“I’m here with Minho. He wanted to come.” She replied curtly.

“Minho?” He spoke out, the name sounding bitter coming out of his mouth, “What, you fucking him or something?”

She stopped counting, then, glancing over to see him standing in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, gaze piercing through her. “Why do you care?” She let out, watching as his jaw clenched slightly.

He didn’t say anything back. She could see that his breathing was starting to pick up, his fingers tightening on his arms from where they were currently crossed. “Why don’t you just mind your damn business and go back inside to your little doll that’s been hanging on your arm all night, and just leave me alone.”

She immediately regretted it when the words came out of her mouth, but that feeling soon went away when he started talking again.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” He scoffed out, smirk framing his plump lips, piercing shining in the night, “You getting an attitude with me because of some girl you saw me with? That’s cute.”

“Shut up, Hyunjin,” She replied back, voice cracking slightly, adjusting her legs slightly. She felt a slight breeze between her thighs when moving, Hyunjin’s eyes flickering downwards for a second before landing back on her. “Just… leave me alone. Please.”

Her voice cracked again at the end, soft and pleading. He immediately picked up on her body language, how she curled herself more into a ball, how her eyes struggled to meet his, how her lip started to quiver. He let out a sigh, walking over and sitting down beside her gently, hands over his knees.

“I just wanna talk for a minute.”

“We’ve had years to do that, Hyunjin,” She whispered back.

It was quiet. The longer they sat there, the longer she realized how much she missed him. She hated the fact that even though their arms were barely grazing one another, even though she was finally breathing the same air as him again, even though they were finally talking, she felt her heart swell, felt the butterflies swarming in her stomach. And it pained her to sit here and feel these things because she knows she shouldn’t.

But she does. She always has.

She felt him move beside her, could see his head fall back onto the wall as he looked up to the sky. His fingers twitched, a sigh escaping his mouth. He inched a little closer.

“There’s just so much I want to say, I need to say, but I don’t know where to start,” He spoke, eyes never leaving the sky, “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting to see you again. I don’t know how to act or what I’m supposed to do now that you’re here. I just… I’ve got so much to say.”

Her eyes focused in on the brightest star. It outshined the others, and it was glowing, just as Hyunjin was tonight.

“I know you hate me,” He let out with a forced chuckle, “Fuck, I know you hate me. And I know you say you want me to leave you alone, but I don’t think you mean that. So I’m not going to. I know now is probably not a great time, and I know I’m starting to ramble, but I hope we can maybe… you know, start over, or something. I don’t know… what do you think?”

“We’re not supposed to talk when we’re looking at the stars,” She softly replied. She saw his head move out of the corner of her eye, his gaze burning holes into the side of her face. “Last time we talked when we saw the stars, you disappeared for six years. I’d rather not say anything, right now. Let’s just sit here a little bit longer.”

And as they sat there, so close, yet so far away from one another, Y/N focused back in on the brightest star and noted how it was directly between them, almost as if it was trying to connect them back together. She could only hope it wouldn’t steer her wrong again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

▫️taglist: @hyundumpling, @hhwangsmoon, @luvyblossom, @inthefairygrove, @rebecca-johnson-28 , @betweensupernovasandstars , @allaboutsan , @babigriin , @vixensss

[lis-likes-fics]

Compromising Positions

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!Reader Word Count: 5.2k words Prompt: Mutual Masturbation Warnings: NSFW, smut, caught masturbating, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjobs, mentions of ovulation, swearing... A/N: I'm doing this with nails on. I have already crashed out three times. If anything is wrong, that is why. No beta, we die like Hayley. Thank you and enjoy.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

For one, you just finished a case. The details were still fresh in your mind, morbid and murky. You should be disgusted by even the notion of doing something like this so close to these murders that you've been chasing with your team.

And if that didn't stop you, the fact that you had to share a room with your (hot) boss should have. You could at least have the decency not to masturbate in a bed that you'll be sharing with another person—especially your boss.

But he was out getting food for the team, and the case was poorly timed to take place right as you started ovulating. You had a lot of self-control, but you can only take so much.

Ideally, you should wait until tomorrow when you would all return to Virginia to lay in your own beds for the night. But the thought of waiting one more night before relieving all of the stress and tension in your body makes you want to cry.

You figured you could be quick. How hard could it be to cum one time before Hotch came back, especially when you're this wound up already?

Unfortunately, Hotch isn't a person who takes his time.

You don't hear the card swiping outside the door, or the lock unclicking to allow him entry. You realize he's there far too late, pulling your head up from its place against the headboard and snatching your hand from between your legs with a gasp.

You quickly grab the covers, pulling them over your lower half to cover yourself up as you see Hotch standing in the doorway. This is probably the first time you've ever seen this man actually fazed—even if it is simply widened eyes and pink tinted cheeks.

“Oh, my God,” you gasp, feeling heat on every surface of your body and sinking into the bone.

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly, plastic bag rustling on his arm as he swiftly goes to close the door once more. “My apologies. I'll—let you finish.”

“No, no, no!” You say quickly, burying your face in your hands to try to hide yourself from him as much as possible. “No, I'm done. I'm sorry. That was so bad.”

“No, it's not,” he scrambles to reassure you from the door, his body blocking anyone from peering in and seeing you in such a compromising state. “I understand. Do what you need to do.”

You move as much as you can with your body still shielded, grabbing your sweatpants to pull them over your body again. “No, really. It's fine, I'm done.”

You stand with your back to him, face still in your hands. The shame sinks even deeper when your fingers still smell like your arousal. You hear the door close behind him, the rustle of the bag against a desk telling you that he decided to stay, after all.

You swallow thickly, trying to shove down the humiliation (and a whisper of more arousal that's making you want to scream) to no avail.

“I'm sorry, Hotch,” you say, your back still facing him. Your voice is softer, but still chalkful of the shame eating away at you. “That was so unprofessional and—God, this is embarrassing.” You mumble the last part to yourself.

“It's not,” he tries to assure you once more. “Really, I understand. You don't have to feel embarrassed, at all.”

You can't bring yourself to face him, but you slowly turn your body halfway toward him to bridge the gap. He's standing across the room, the both of you separated by the bed.

“Easier said than done.”

Any time you imagined him, you imagined it in a very different way. You thought of him walking in to find you like that, but it was usually followed up by him climbing on top of you and taking the job over himself. Or maybe he's suddenly pushing you up against a wall in a hungry kiss, his knee between your thighs, his hand achingly close to your throat–

This is doing nothing for your horniness.

You half-excuse yourself, slipping into the small bathroom to splash some cold water on your face in an effort to calm you. When that doesn't work, you give up and wash the hell out of your hands to try and get the smell out.

Over the next hour, the two of you hardly say anything. You eat in relative silence, he takes his shower, and then you both try to find sleep. Which is also easier said than done.

You lay on your side, wide awake, trying not to press your thighs together as the ache grows and grows. You need a release. You need it so bad, you feel like it's going to eat you up.

“Are you…still awake?”

You swallow thickly, debating whether or not you should just say no. But he'll know if you're lying, just like you'd probably know if he was (he's a better liar than you).

“Yeah.” You keep replaying your little incident in your head, over and over and over again. It's maddening in more ways than one, which is only making it more maddening.

“Do you…” he hesitates. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not necessarily. You think if you talk about it with him, you'll only make your own situation worse, and you'll have to be removed from the unit for indecency or, God forbid, sexual harassment.

But you really don't want to sit in uncomfortable silence, and maybe talking about it to absolutely ensure that there is no issue might help.

“Sure.”

You both slowly sit up. He turns on the bedside lamp. You sort of just…sit there in more silence as you wait for someone to speak.

“I want to start by reiterating…” he says slowly, “that you do not have to feel embarrassed in any way. Really, I understand.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. You have to clear your throat, but it doesn't make you any bolder, or any louder for that matter. “Still, I'm…I'm sorry for this. I thought I could…” you fill your lungs with air, “be quick.”

He reaches over gently to place a hand on your knee. Every instinct is telling you to move his hand from you, as the warmth of his palm is going straight to your head and making you embarrassingly dizzy, but you don't. Because it's warm and it feels nice.

You try to find your voice, looking down at your own hands instead of at his or his face. “You know I'm not usually like this.”

“I know.”

“I just…” You take a breath. “This case was very poorly timed, and… and I'm ovulating. Otherwise I wouldn't be such a horn dog. It really is an accident. I'd never want to make you or anyone else feel uncomfortable and–”

He says your name gently. You were rambling. You nod gently in understanding, trying to pull a shy grin over your lips in an attempt to ease the heat in your face from trying to explain yourself.

“I feel the only way to ease your nerves about being in such a…compromising position, would be to compromise myself in return.” His voice is calm, as gentle and as natural as it would be if you were talking about your weekend or how great the weather has been.

“You don't have to,” you say, though your voice is a whisper. The thought of learning something him compromising about him is making it hard to think straight.

“It's alright.” He takes his own breath, and as you finally glance up at him to see his face. For the first time, you spot a hint of disheveled nerves on him—hair slightly tosseled, cheeks still lightly dusted in a gentle pink hue. It is doing nothing to help you.

“I hope I don't make you uncomfortable by admitting to this,” he speaks very quietly, as if consoling you, “but I…enjoyed seeing you before.”

If you weren't hot before, you are not. Not just hot—you're burning. Something in swirling in your gut, and your criss-crossed position provides no pressure where you need it. What's worse, if he looks at you for even a moment, you know for certain that he would be able to read it all on your face in just a single moment.

“You…” you clear your throat like the words got caught. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods lightly. “To be quite honest with you, I have found myself developing certain feelings for you over the last few months.”

You feel like you've been shot in the heart, a shock that makes it stop beating for a few moments before pumping so quickly, it feels like it's trying to keep it going before you collapse.

“Really?” You hate how pathetic you sound. “Like…actually? You're not just trying to flatter me to make me feel better?”

He laughs gently, finally looking at you once more. Fuck, you need him so badly right now, and it's eating you alive.

“No, I'm not.” His hand squeezes gently, but never in any kind of imposing way. He's very kind and comforting. Either way, you try not to squirm. “You're an excellent agent, an even better person… YourYou're beautiful, smart, kind. There's a lot to fall for.”

His tone is analytical, as if it's the only way he'll be able to get the words out. If he pretends he profiling, maybe it won't be so difficult to admit something less logical, so emotional.

“Well,” you hum. “That’s…honestly a relief because I've had eyes for you since the beginning… Which I feel like I should not have said.”

You go to shield your face again, but he lifts his hands to your wrists, touching you so gently. “Don't hide,” he nearly whispers. “I did just tell you you're beautiful, didn't I? I want to see your face.”

You're hanging on by a thread. His thumbs are stroking soothing circles into your pulse points, your ears are thrumming with the beating of your heart. You think if you don't have him one you right now, you'll literally and truly die.

“Can I kiss you?”

Aaron doesn't answer you. Instead, he's catching your lips in his with a fervor that has you moaning into his mouth. Your hands come to his neck, their warmth sinking into his skin as you cradle him. You push up onto your knees, so eager to feel him everywhere.

“Aaron,” you whimper. You're brimming with need.

The sound of his name on your tongue makes him grab at your hips, more rough than he had intended as he pulls you flush against his body. You sigh into his mouth, melting against him as he pulls you close.

“I know,” he mumbles as you paw at each other like horny teenagers. He's becoming painfully hard in his pants, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to lick and suck and nibble at your skin. He's being so careful not to leave any marks for the team to suspect in the morning, but it becomes increasingly difficult the more you grasp one another.

“I need you.” The words fall before you can even think them up. “Please. Need you so bad. Please.” You had not intended to become such a mess so quickly. All he's done is kiss you, trail his hands along your back and sides, and you're melting against him and begging for him to touch you.

“We can't,” he breathes regretfully, though he keeps kissing you.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes now shining with a hint of apprehension at the prospect of rejection after such a confession. “Why not?”

He's quick to assure you, one hand under your chin and the other at the small of your back. “I want to. Trust me, I want to.” He's catching his breath, lips pink from kissing you so much. He kisses you again just to seal his words. “But I don't have a condom. And if you're ovulating, then it's probably not a good idea for us to…”

You nod quickly. “Yeah. Yes, you're right.”

He pulls you into another kiss before you can try to pull back and second guess yourself. You sink into it easily, letting him lay you down against the mattress. He pulls gently at the hem of your shirt, muttering against your lips. “Can I take this off?”

Your nod is emphatic. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smiles at your lips, embracing you for the hundredth time, only pulling away to pull your shirt over your head. Your mouths are hungry things searching for each other, begging and yearning for the other like they've been kept apart for far too long.

His hand immediately comes up to cup your breast. Though it starts off as a gentle touch, he's quickly groping you with eager, greedy hands as he palms and kneads and soaks up the sound of your pants and moans.

It's hard to think when he touches you like this. You've dreamt of this so many times that you wouldn't know where to begin if he wasn't kissing you so feverishly.

You take his shirt off next, too intent on seeing him, feeling him. He helps you remove it and toss it haphazardly across the room. You lay your hands flat at his sides. His abs are not defined, but they're firm and they're warm, not quite a “dad bod” but close enough to make you drool. (You were drooling anyway.) His skin is soft and smooth, and you quickly get greedy in feeling him.

His finger hooks around the waistband of your sweatpants. He places kisses to your neck and collarbone, sucking bruises at the top of your breasts where they can be hidden but he'll always know are there. “Can I take these off?” he asks again, a little more tentative.

You look him in the eyes, feeling incredibly hot and incredibly needy. “Yeah, please.”

He smiles at you, keeping eye contact as he slowly brings them down your thighs, your legs, off your ankles. When he takes in the sight of you, it's with silent breath and darkened eyes.

You hear him curse under his breath, and if your mind wasn't so foggy with desire, you'd be shocked—maybe even tease him over it. “You're so beautiful,” he says, one hand stroking your side soothingly. “All of you. You're perfect.”

You don't know how to answer him. He's bleeding with sincerity. You give your gratitude in the form of another hungry kiss, cupping his face and scratching at a barely-there stubble with your nails.

“I wanna see you,” you mutter into his mouth. You can vaguely feel the smallest outline of him when he brushes up against your thigh. But it's not enough. You want a full view, full access to him. “Please, can I see you?”

He's already yanking down his sweatpants with far less care than he had shown you. You look between your bodies with a sigh. He's thick, his tip already leaking at how evidently needy he is for you. You stare for longer than you should, clenching around nothing as your fingers itch to touch it.

“Can I…?” Your voice is quiet, a shy request.

Aaron gives a bashful chuckle. “I'm afraid it'll end too soon if you do…” This pulls a smile from you, which spreads his own grin out wide. “Yes.”

You chew on your bottom lip, reaching a hand out to run your knuckles along the bottom of it. It kicks up at your touch, pulling a hiss from between his teeth. You stifle your grin, apologizing briefly as he reassures you that he's fine.

He's very warm, with a texture like velvet. You drag your fingers slowly—unintentionally teasing him—along his length.

You watch his face contort, squeezing in concentration and what looks like pain. His cheeks are flushed, his teeth bared slightly. He reaches out a hand, grabbing yours without cruelty to stop your teasing strokes. “Okay, okay.” He catches his breath. “I'm sorry, I just… I need a minute.”

“S’okay,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, an effort to ease him. He smiles into your lips and eases onto one elbow. He's crowding your lower half, so close that his body heat is becoming your own. You don't mind. It's a comfort you would be content to live in as he boxes you in with his body, leaning on you considerately as his thumb continues to stroke your side.

When you pull away with a gentle smack, he hums as he stares up at you. His eyes are dark and intense, and you struggle to hold his gaze as you shy away with a shallow giggle.

He encourages your face back with his knuckle beneath your chin. “Show me how you do it.”

You're taken off guard by his request. Your brows furrow slightly as you cup his face. “How I do what?” He stares a moment longer, and your eyes widen a bit. “Touch myself?”

He smiles, and your breath is taken away. Aaron Hotchner is not a man who smiles often, especially like this. He smiles at you with teeth, pearly whites that light up his whole face and make him ten times more handsome (you hadn't even known that was possible).

“You want to see me touch myself?” you confirm, sounding more hesitant than you feel. His eyes droop lightly as you continue to scratch his light stubble. He hums his response, a gentle nod.

“If you don't want to, I'm not going to make you,” he assures, ever the gentleman. “I never want to make you uncomfortable in any way. I just want to admire you. All of you.”

“I want to,” you say too quickly. You want to show him everything. He's the kind of person who would sleep out in the hallway if it made you feel more comfortable, but you would rather spend the night in the closet than have him be cold and alone out there. He's so kind and so gentle and so handsome, that showing him something like this isn't anything you're opposed to in any way. “I just…have never done anything like that before.”

“That’s fine,” he coos. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your belly with a warm sigh. Your breath shudders as you run your fingers through his hair. “I'll do it with you, so it isn't awkward.”

You nod slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mhm.”

He kisses you lightly, his lips curled in an elated grin. “Lay back, sweet girl.”

You do as you're told, though his voice is anything but commanding. There's nothing assertive about it. It's a simple request born out of a kind of adoration that makes you warm from the inside out.

You lay against the headboard of the bed, missing his warmth when he moves off of you to sit by your side. Your shoulders brush one another as he sits close, gazing at you and assessing every feature on your face. To make sure you're okay.

You smile up at him, trying not to hide yourself away as you keep your legs uncrossed. He sets a hand on your knee, slowly encouraging it farther apart with enough gentleness to give you full power to refuse. You let him move it without quarrel, watching his face as he watches yours.

His legs spread as well, and he pulls one of yours to rest over one of his, keeping you effectively open. He stares at you, your pussy slick with your arousal, and sighs deeply. He's hard, his cock resting against his lower belly where a string of precum connects him to it.

Aaron takes his cock in his hand, squeezes the base with a grunt. You feel his leg twitch lightly beneath your own as you watch him, the way he strokes himself so slowly. You chew on your lip, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal stirs in your belly.

Slowly, you bring your hand to rest on your inner thigh. Your fingers tremble slightly, nerves and shyness, as you bring them closer to where you need to be touched.

You stifle a moan when you press the pad of your finger to your clit. Aaron's eyes watch you closely, admiring the way your fingers move as you tease yourself with shy hands.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. He watches you glide your fingers through your folds, wet with an embarrassing amount of arousal. “Show me how you do it.”

You slowly dip a finger inside of you, letting out the smallest sound as you push it in as far as you can reach. It's not nearly as far as you need it as you let your head lean against his shoulder.

He smiles, his hand becoming a little more insistent as he watches you bury your finger inside of yourself. Your eyes are locked on one another, mesmerized by the sight of the other's pleasure.

“Good, good girl,” he hums, flicking his wrist as he grasps the head of his cock. You add a second finger, curling it inside of you. It feels good, being able to touch yourself and relieve the ache that's been weighing on you all day, especially under his gaze that seems far more appreciative than it should be. “You're so pretty, honey. So pretty.”

He kisses your temple, raising his free hand to tilt your chin up for another kiss. You indulge him happily, humming into his mouth and letting your fingers brush against that sponge spot inside of you that makes you moan.

You roll your hips forward, feeling your need tightening in the pit of your stomach. “Aaron,” you whisper. “Fuck, I need more.” He squeezes his cock absently, your words ending shivers down his spine. “Need you to touch me. Please.”

His breath shudders. “You want my fingers inside of you, is that it?”

You stifle a moan, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Yes, please.” You lean further into him, your head in the crook of his neck. “Mine aren't big enough. I need you.”

He's a goner. Aaron reaches over, stroking your thigh with a large, warm hand and kneading the flesh thoughtfully. You let your lips part, your breaths a little heavier. His hand covers yours, pressing his fingers into your knuckles to push them farther inside of you. You whisper a curse, turning your face into his shoulder.

He slowly pulls your fingers out of you, leans in to kiss you in a way that's almost greedy. His hand squeezes your upper thigh gently before dipping between them. You open your legs wider to give him more space to move, sighing into his lips when you feel his fingers rubbing against you.

He spreads your lips apart, strokes his finger through them and consumes any whimpers you let slip. When the pad of his finger brushes against your clit, your hips jerk lightly, and you feel his lips curling against your own.

“I'm going to put them inside now,” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, overwhelmed with desire. “Okay.”

He kisses you again just as he presses one finger inside of you. You hum into his mouth, raising a hand to rest against his chest. His finger reaches much deeper than your own, offers more girth for you to squeeze around as he slips in and out slowly, your slick allowing for easy movement.

“Fuck, Aaron,” you whisper. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” he grins gently, kissing you one more. You nod, your sounds worsening when you feel a second finger prodding at you. When he slips it inside, your lips go slack against his. “How about that?”

“Oh, God,” you breathe. You try not to squirm against him, clenching as he thrusts them too slowly, in and out of you with a rhythm made to drive you crazy. You feel like you'll stop breathing as the pleasure swarms in your brain.

When he curls his fingers inside of you, you have to hold back the moan threatening to slip past. He watches you, enamored by the look on your face, desire and pleasure written in every crease.

“How is that, honey?”

“Good.” As his pace slowly builds, thrusting and curling until you can't keep up, you have to purse your lips to keep from crying out. Aaron is a gentle man, as he'd been a gentle lover, but the way he fingers you is making it hard to think straight. “Fuck, so good. Please don't stop.”

His breath has picked up just listening to yours. Your soft moans are making it very hard to calm himself as his cock twitches against his belly. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, showering you in affection as he continues to touch you like it's his life's mission.

You can't help yourself from riding his hand. Arousal is leaking out of you, and part of you feels guilty as you feel it beginning to wet the sheets beneath you.

You reach blindly for Aaron, your breath heavy and your skin hot. He hisses when your fingers wrap around his cock, and you whine at the size of him. You wish it was inside of you so badly—you know it would feel so good to have him stretching you out.

You stroke him, too dizzy with pleasure to tease or go slow as you drag your fist up and down the length of him. “God, you feel so good,” you breathe into the crook of his neck.

He chuckles, though the sound is more breath than laugh. “I should be telling you that.” You mimic his sound.

You squeeze him, perhaps too much because one of his hands comes to slow your pace with a grunt he's trying so hard not to let out in full sound. “You've got to slow down, honey, or this will be over far too soon.”

You smile, the knowledge that you're riling him up so much going straight to your head. Your reply is a kiss to his neck, which quickly becomes two kisses, which becomes three and so on. He sighs with each kiss, fingering you still with as much fervor as you'd shown before.

You moan out his name, brimming with want. Your pace is steady on him, not as fast as before but just as stimulating as you peek up at his face, concentration deep in his features. When you flick your wrist, he grunts and pulls his fingers out of you, though he never stops touching you.

You whine at the loss, feeling him sliding your arousal all over your pussy as you bite down at your lower lip. “Please don't stop,” you murmur, your voice almost weak with how badly you need him.

He just shushes you gently, smiling once again at the surprised moan that comes out of you as he starts rubbing at your clit. You bury your face in the crook of his neck again, inhaling his scent and trying to stifle your moans as your pace kicks up on his cock.

“You're so messy, sweet girl,” he coos. His claim is supported by the lewd sounds coming from between your legs as his fingers rub quickly over your eager clit. Your hips cant up into his hand, his words sending intense shivers bolting up your spine. “And your thighs are shaking so much.”

Your fingers squeeze around him, precum dribbling over the top of them and making it easier to tug at his cock. His teeth clench as he feels himself growing more and more breathless.

“Fuck,” you gasp lightly. “I'm gonna cum, Aaron.” His calloused fingers catch your clit in a way that has a shocked mewl pulling out of you. “Please, Aaron, don't stop.”

He doesn't, not even for a moment. He seems more eager for you to cum than even you. You ride his hand, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Your moans are building as you struggle to keep quiet.

“Good. Good girl, c’mon. Cum for me, sweet girl.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

And just like that, you're falling off the edge as the pleasure blossoms inside of you. You squeeze your fist around his cock, tugging a couple more times before he's spilling out over your hand and his tummy with a barely stifled moan.

You both shudder, his hand still working you through your orgasm as your brain goes fuzzy and your limbs fill with bliss. Your moan of his name is pressed into his skin in an attempt to stay relatively quiet. A noise complaint is the last thing you both need right now, along with the rest of the team finding out about this before any of it is concrete yet.

When the pleasure has faded and he pulls his hand away, you fill your lungs with air and feel yourself going limp as you rest all of your weight on him. He takes it welcomingly. His hand still rubs along your inner thighs, soothing you with gentle shushes, still sounding quite breathless himself.

“You did so good for me, honey.” He turns your face to kiss you, making you moan into his mouth as his hand slips between your thighs to glide between your soaked pussy. He grunts at how wet you are, licking into your mouth and securing his arm around you as you melt against him.

He leans over you, and you smile at his warmth. You raise a hand gently to his face, the hand not sticky with his cum, and hum into his mouth.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “I needed that so bad.”

His response is a light chuckle, tender with affection and post-orgasmic exhaustion. “I'm happy to help,” he says. “And if you need any more in the future, I'm here.”

Your stomach flips a little at his words, the prospect of the future seeming quite exciting to you now.

Aaron sits up slowly, a sigh dragging out of him as he stands to move in the direction of the bathroom. He fetches a wet towelette to clean you up with, his movements so gentle and kind as he wipes away all the arousal. He takes your hands in his large ones, wiping his own release away with a tenderness that melts your heart.

He cleans himself hastily in order to join you in bed. He lays back, pulling you close to lay your head on his chest. You sigh longingly, stroking his chest and holding him close. You still feel a little eager, but it has been toned down considerably.

He smells good, like the cologne you'd gifted him on his birthday, and something else you can't quite place. Something uniquely him.

“You smell nice,” you hum.

He laughs, a rumbling in his chest that makes you smile. “Thank you,” he says. “You smell wonderful.”

You turn your head to kiss his chest, letting sleep tug at you. Aaron's hand rubs gently at your back. “Go to sleep, honey.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and holds you close.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 @hits-different-cause-its-you @liza-beth03 @carolina-angel The Chief taglist: @quickslvxrr @stevendenkiswhore Tag yourself here...

[kazumist]

THROUGH THICK AND THIN .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro had forgotten the lengths of your love for him.

✩ — request: hi, can i pls request an argument with hoshina and how u resolve everything 🥹🥹🥹

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. hurt/comfort, angst if u squint. cw: arguments, implications of soshiro being injured but thats just it, soshiro is kinda mean Uhm, ooc!hoshina this is another experimental fic help me. wc: 1440. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

if there was one thing sharper than the blades hoshina soshiro wielded, it would be the words that escaped his lips.

hoshina knows how to sugarcoat his words. he considers himself a good talker—negiotiator, if you would. however, when it comes to more sensitive topics, that’s when it all starts to crumble down. 

he never expected for him to catch feelings, especially with the line of work he takes. it’s too risky. dangerous. worrying. but he fell as deep as the ocean could get for you. you accepted it. him and his line of work. him as a whole.

yet soshiro seems to forget that sometimes.

getting out of a mission unscathed was impossible. he would always have at least one injury planted on him. it was a repetitive game of russian roulette where either his injuries would be severe or light. and unfortunately for him, today was sadly the former. 

a knock was heard at the door of the hospital room he’s staying in. a mission had recently just finished—about three days had passed, and soshiro was unconscious for the first two due to how he overexerted himself. “come in,” he says. and to his surprise, he saw you opening the door.

soshiro hasn’t told you about him being hospitalized yet—so how?

“captain ashiro told me.” oh. so that’s how. well, he was aware that you had also built a friendship with his commander. and that was completely fine with him. it was awkward when you walked over to the bed, pulling out the chair for you to sit on. you refused to make eye contact with him while soshiro just stared at you.

neither of you has an idea of what to say.

“i wish you told me as soon as you woke up. i was worried sick when i heard the news about the kaiju attack and all.” you said, keeping your gaze focused on your fingers as they played with each other. he flinches slightly as guilt starts to bubble up inside of him. it was already five in the afternoon and he’s been awake since ten in the morning. he wishes that he told you as soon as he woke up as well.

however, there’s one thing that has started to creep onto soshiro lately—fear. insecurity, perhaps. he gets haunted by the thought that you would definitely be happier in someone else’s arms and that you would be more happy being bathed in someone else’s affection. being with a man like hoshina soshiro was dangerous, as if it were a gamble to play.

because you never know if you’ll still wake up to him being alive the next day. and believe it or not: hoshina was scared—terrified of that possibility. he doesn’t want you to be sad, he crumbles at the thought of you crying in the first place. so he made it a task for him to push you away. to be distant.

to be someone you would hate.

that’s the only way he could keep you safe.

“sorry. i didn’t want to disturb you.” bullshit.

“why…” you trailed off. soshiro noticed that you werent playing with your fingers anymore and that you were now clenching your fists. “why would you think that? soshiro, your health matters to me.” his heart also clenched when he heard the slight crack in your voice. “why would it matter to you? i could die any day.”

“are you being serious right now?” he hates it. he hates the way that the first time he saw your eyes today, they were filled with such negative emotions. anger. hurt. confusion. “do i look like i’m kidding?”

“soshiro, why are you acting like this? did i do something wrong? i know we haven’t seen each other a lot because we’ve been both busy.” no, you didn’t. this is my fault, but this is also for the best. is what he wanted to say—but he just swallows up his words. “it’s nothing.”

“no, it’s not just ‘nothing.’ tell me what’s wrong, please? so we can fix it. it pains me when we’re like this.” it pains him too—it pains him so fucking bad. but hoshina soshiro is stubborn. so he will find himself accomplishing his task, whether it pains him or not.

because all he wants is the best for you, even if he wouldn’t be able to provide that.

— — — — — — — — 

he doesn’t know how things got so heated between the two of you. and he’s sure that you both might disturb the other patients who are confined in the room next to his.

“why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong? i feel like an idiot, soshiro! what am i?! some fucking mind reader on what goes on inside your head?!”

“like i told you, it’s nothing for you to worry about! what can’t you understand with that?!”

“what can’t you understand with me saying it’s not just nothing?!”

“and what can’t you understand with me implying that you shouldn’t care anymore?! dp i have to spell it out for you?”

you weren’t sitting down anymore, and hoshina doesn’t dare to speak anymore. fighting with you was the worst. and this time, he fucked up real bad. “i… it’s getting late. i should get going.” you say, and soshiro could feel a part of him shattering when he heard you hold back a sob.

the next time soshiro saw you, he was on his day off (a day off he didn’t really want to take but captain ashiro forced him otherwise since the doctors told him he shouldn’t be making his body engage in strenuous activities just yet). and the first thing he did? he visited you. he knew you get off work early on fridays, making you free for the rest of the weekend earlier.

he knocks on your door, although hesitantly. he’s nervous as he waits for you to open the door.

and he’s grateful that you still opened the door for him in spite of your last conversation with each other. you didn’t say anything as you opened the door further, inviting him in. the awkwardness gave hoshina a rush of deja vu about the awkwardness in the hospital room.

“i’m sorry.” although these two words don’t just cut it so easily, he thinks.

“do you really mean it? what you said in the hospital?”

his breath hitched as he found the right words to say. if hoshina was going to be honest, he hasn’t thought much about what to do at this point. surely, he had achieved his goal that night, right? “yeah.”

“liar.”

he turns to you immediately, and you were already looking at him to begin with. “you’re lying, and i could tell that because you’re nibbling on your lip. you always do that when you lie. just tell me the truth, soshiro, please.”

why should he? would you accept his reason? would you accept the insecurities that haunt his every waking thought? would you accept him even though he said such mean things to you the last time you saw each other?

would you still love him despite it all?

you would. you always would. 

and so he explains from the very start—when and where these thoughts started in the first place. and you listen to him intently, absorbing every single detail he says. once he was done, you took a deep breath. 

“god, you’re so stupid. did you know that?” soshiro lets out a weak chuckle at that, avoiding your gaze. you cup his face with your hands, making him face you. “look at me,” he refuses. “soshiro, look at me.” he then complies, slowly trailing his eyes across your features before resting them on your gaze.

“you don’t get to decide what’s best for me when it comes to this type of thing, okay? i love who i want to love. you don’t get to decide that i’d be happier with someone else. because i love you. i love you more than you could ever imagine, more than you could ever feel. remember that. engrave that inside your mind so you can never forget. you are the one i am helplessly in love with, soshiro.”

i love you. i love you. i love you. it repeats inside his mind. you are the one i am helplessly in love with. it echoes. soshiro feels stupid for attempting to become someone you hated in the first place. there was no way he could ever bear the possibility of you actually hating him.

how could he forget? you had already accepted him as a whole. through thick and thin, you will stand by his side.

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."