#the eighth photo is when he got it in his eye

[in-a-slanted-outhouse]

Aidan trying his hardest to put mascara on is one of the best things I’ve seen all week

[kenjioharashotspot]

Pictures and videos Kenji Sato has/took of you on his phone (baby daddy edition) — PT. 2

tagging my lovelies: @mysterious-gworl / @slay-thou-pookie

The sixth video he took of you was when you gave birth to your baby girl and he surprised you at the maternity hospital with a huge pink tulip bouquet adorned with dainty white baby's breath flowers.

The seventh video was sent to Kenji from Professor Sato while he was taking a break during a conference meeting. It showed Emi, meeting the baby for the first time. You were holding your baby girl while Emi's cute excited sounds echoed through the luxurious containment area.

The sixth photo Kenji has of you is a picture Professor Sato took of you and his granddaughter wearing matching baseball jerseys with Kenji's last name (SATO) and number (7). His cheeks would turn a dusted shade of red every time he saw that picture!

The eighth video he took of you was when he admired you as you were breastfeeding the baby while singing a melody Kenji's mom used to sing for him when he was a baby. Kenji would always fall in love with you, over and over again.

The seventh photo he has of you on his phone is a selfie of yours back when you were super pregnant! Your chubby cheeks matched your round, soft pregnant belly. He called you his "cute little puffer fish".

The ninth video your husband Kenji has on his phone is a security camera footage of you, holding your baby girl in your arms as you dance in the living room to Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky, wearing your wedding dress. Kenji's eyes would flood with happy tears when watching the video.

The eighth photo he has of you, he took it while you were sleeping. He had to wake up early for practice and when he saw his two princesses sleeping so peacefully, so beautifully, Kenji couldn't resist but to take a picture. He's eternally smitten...

The tenth video he took of you was when you guys went to the mall to get some toys for the baby and he filmed you girls pouting your lips at him as you asked him if he could buy more teddy bears.

The ninth photo he has of you on his phone is back when you were experiencing morning sickness and he caught you making some silly faces as you ate some of the things you loved eating before you got pregnant. He still laughs gazing at those pictures, you looked so cute and confused.

The tenth photo he took of you was when you were getting ready to go out with him. Your smile while looking at the phone camera made Kenji a bit shy as if it was the first time he was meeting you.

[myth1cs]

Bratty (Shin Ryujin & Hwang Yeji x M!Reader)

Part 2 of Troublemaker (Both of these are smut!! Sorry!!!) Y/N is a brat and Ryujin degrades him (Again) to teach him a lesson Word Count: 2,617

As my eighth period class was about to end the professor suddenly made an announcement to the class.

"Before you all leave I wanted to let you all know that you have the option to work with a partner for this assignment."

When he said that I turned to Yeji.

"Hey, want to work on the assignment together?"

"Yeah sure, what's your phone number?"

After we exchanged phone numbers we went our separate ways. I didn't get far as I suddenly felt someone grab my arm and pull me into an empty classroom.

"What was that Y/N?"

"Ryujin? What are you doing?"

"Don't deflect, now tell me what I just saw."

"I was just getting Yeji's phone number."

"For what Y/N? Are you going over to her house?"

"Yes but only-"

Ryujin cut me off and lightly smacked my cheek. She glared at me with eyes that felt like they would pierce my soul.

"Don't go over to her house."

"Why?"

"Don't act dumb Y/N I know what you plan on doing. You're going to shove your face in between her thighs while your over at her house."

"What, No Ryujin I wont't!"

"Yeah sure, Look Y/N you can listen to me or not. But I warn you that if you disobey me you'll pay for it."

Ryujn left and I was alone in the empty classroom.

I felt excitement as I knew my plan was working.

I always wanted Ryujin to be more dominant and degrade me harder so I had started to ignore her and started to act less excited when having sex with her which I guess is why shes been more possessive over me. She might feel like she's doing something wrong which is probably why she thinks I might be looking for other people.

At Yeji's House

I knocked on the door and waited for a response.

After waiting for a few seconds Yeji opened the door for me.

"Hi Y/N are you ready to start working?"

"Sure am Yeji."

Yeji led me to her room and we started working on the assignment. I took this moment and took a photo of Yeji and sent it to Ryujin.

After a few seconds Ryujin sent me a message but I didn't answer her. Ryujin must've not liked me ignoring her messages as my phone started vibrating constantly but I didn't pay attention to it.

"Y/N is that your phone?"

"Yeah why?"

"I think someone's trying to reach you. It sounds important."

"Don't worry about it Yeji."

I went and put me phone on silent.

"Y/N seriously I think it's important. Why would someone message you so much if it wasn't?"

"No it was just a spam message."

"Oh really? Ugh I hate those."

I started wondering about my next move. But I decided upon something I knew would get Ryujin worked up.

"Hey Yeji I know this is a weird time but would you be my girlfriend?"

"Y/N ... where is this coming from?"

"You, your everything Yeji and I want to be able to have you by my side. So will you be mine?"

"Listen Y/N you're a sweet person now and I'll admit you're kinda cute but I can't just look past everything you've done in the past."

"Yeji I swear I've been working on myself. Please give me this one chance."

Yeji sighed and looked at me. I put my hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze.

"Okay fine Y/N I'll give us a shot."

I kissed Yeji and pulled her into a hug.

"Do you want to take a picture to celebrate us Yeji?"

"Yeah sure let's do it."

I took my phone out and took a picture. After I took it I made sure I sent it to Ryujin. She is so going to kill me but I can't wait for it.

"Let's go back to our work Y/N."

Next Day

As I was heading to my eighth period class I got another text from Ryujin.

Ryujin: "Come to my room NOW"

Ryujin: "You little brat stop ignoring me!"

Ryujin: "Y/N I swear you better not have shoved your face in between Yeji's thighs yesterday!"

I kept ignoring her texts and continued on my way.

When I got into eighth period I sat down but not for long as suddenly the principals voice came over the speakers.

"Y/N make your way to room 304."

"Y/N I thought you said you would work on bettering yourself." Yeji said with a disappointed tone.

"Oh no it's not that Yeji I swear, let me prove it, follow me when I leave and Ryujin will tell you."

I walked out of the classroom and waited. I overheard Yeji ask to use the restroom and she came out of the classroom shortly after.

"Glad you decided to follow me."

I led Yeji to Ryujin's room and we both went inside together.

When we walked in Ryujin started speaking and she sounded pissed off "Y/N you little-"

Ryujin looked shocked when she saw Yeji by my side. She probably only expected me to come.

Ryujin quickly cleared her throat "What brings you here with your friend Y/N?"

"Actually she's my girlfriend."

I could see Ryujin was struggling to keep her smile up "Well that's nice to know."

"So why did you call Y/N here anyways?" Yeji asked.

"I just wanted to tell him I was so proud of him. He hasn't been written up and his grades are improving at a rapid rate."

"Thank you Ryujin that means a lot coming from you." I smiled at Ryujin when I said that and I could tell she wanted to have her way with me.

"Come on Yeji let's go back."

After School

As I was walking home I got another text from Ryujin

Ryujin: "Come over to my house. I'll rehabilitate you and knock that bratty behavior out of you."

I knew I had Ryujin where I wanted her so I made my way over to her house. When I arrived I went ahead and knocked on the door. No one opened and I was about to knock again but then I got another text from Ryujin.

Ryujin:"It's unlocked, come upstairs to my room."

I opened the door and made my way to Ryujin's room.

"Hello?"

"Come in!"

When I opened the door Ryujin quickly shoved me into a wall.

"Y/N you better have a damn good explanation for yourself!"

I started giggling and tried to kiss her but Ryujin smacked me.

"I don't want your filthy mouth touching my perfect face. Now tell me what the fuck you've been doing. Was I just a sex toy for you? Do you think you can do better than me?!"

"Ryujin I just wanted you to degrade me more that's all. You're perfect I would never replace you for Yeji."

Ryujin started laughing and looked at me with eyes that I was too familiar with.

"So you want to play that game huh Y/N? Well I'll show you what happens to brats like you."

Ryujin stripped naked and shoved me to the bed.

"I thought you said you were only my slut but it turns out you lied to me. And you should know that I hate liars Y/N."

"W-wait! Ryujin what are you doing!"

Ryujin grabbed a rope she had lying on the floor. She started to tie my hands to the bed frame preventing me from moving.

"Okay Ryujin I get it I won't be a brat anymore!"

"Well that's no fun is it Y/N?"

Ryujin pulled my pants down and my erected cock sprung out. Ryujin spat on it and started to pump it.

"Y/N look at your filthy cock. It's so sad you get turned on so easily. You're nothing but a sad degenerate."

Ryujin put the tip of my cock inside her mouth. She put her tongue all over it and I felt myself about to cum. My cock was twitching inside her mouth but she pulled out before I could cum.

"No. no, no Ryujin please let me cum!"

"Pathetic, My personal slut is nothing but a sex addict. What if I just leave you like this Y/N? Leave you needy all day long. My parents don't come back until tomorrow afternoon so I have plenty of time to toy with my favorite boy toy."

Ryujin sat on me just barely away from my cock. She straddled me and I couldn't help but get even harder from having her weight on me. She startled to lift my shirt and drew patterns on my chest.

"What to do with you Y/N I have so many options. What will take the brat out of you?"

I saw a sparkly in her eyes. This couldn't be good.

Ryujin got off me and went grabbed my pants. She pulled my phone out and took pictures of me.

"No don't it's embarrassing!" But my plea went unheard.

Ryujin started texting someone and looked at me with a smile that felt deadly.

"No! I know who you just texted please delete that message before she sees it!"

"Shh relax boy toy. I promise you'll enjoy what happens next."

Ryujin grabbed her breasts and put my cock in between them. She started to rub them on my cock.

I started moaning. Her breasts were so soft and squishy I wanted to cum all over them.

"Oh you like these? They're just a pair of breasts Y/N they're nothing special. Are you that much of a loser that seeing a simple pair of breasts is enough to get you worked up?"

"Ryujin!"

I couldn't help but whine. Ryujin wasn't letting me cum I felt my balls aching and wanting releases but she kept denying me.

"Please Ryujin!"

"I don't know Y/N does a whore like you deserve it? Maybe if you beg for it I'll consider it."

"Ryujin Ryujin please let me cum! I promise I won't be a brat anymore!"

Ryujin laughed at me and licked the top of my cock.

"My my Y/N I didn't think you would go as low as to beg for it. You're acting like a kid begging his mom to buy him fast food."

"Mommy please!"

My face immediately turned red when I said that. Fuck I accidentally said that out loud now she's going to make fun of me for sure.

"Mommy? Am I your mother now Y/N? Do you want me to hold you lovingly and kiss you goodnight now?"

Ryujin rubbed circles on my thighs and I could do nothing but watch as she rejects my orgasm.

Suddenly I heard the door downstairs open.

"We're up here!" Ryujin yelled.

The footsteps got closer. I was worried Ryujin's parents came home early but then the person entered the room.

"Yeji?! It's not what it looks like!"

"Y/N what the fuck is going on!"

"Yeji isn't this beautiful. Look at Y/N pathetically tied to the bed. Want to show him what happens to brats?"

I looked at Yeji and saw that her eyes had changed.

I knew I only had a few moments before Yeji made up her mind "Ryujin that isn't necessary-" but I was too late.

"Yeah Ryujin I want to teach Y/N a lesson."

"Kiss me."

Yeji got on top of me and started to make out with Ryujin. It was horrible seeing them make out while my cock was still hard.

"Look at Y/N I bet he wishes his pathertic cock was in between our lips." Ryujin looked at me with a smirk as she said that.

Yeji started to suck on Ryujin's breasts eliciting moans from Ryujin. Some of Yeji's saliva fell onto the bed. She didn't stop there though she shoved three fingers inside of Ryujin without warning.

"Yeji damn it your so much better than Y/N's cock ever was!"

"Fuck you Ryujin you literally came all over my cock last time!"

"Did you hear something Ryujin?"

"No must've been the wind."

I was turned on by the sight of both of them making out but I wanted to cum. I was in a state of pain of feeling erected but I didn't have anyway to relieve it.

"Ryujin do you think we should let Y/N cum?"

"Ugh fine we can let our little toy cum."

Ryujin and Yeji got their hands off each other and turned to me. Yeji took off her clothes and let my cock enter her warm pussy while Ryujin sat on my face.

"Go on boy toy make us cum!" Ryujin ordered.

I started to lick Ryujin's pussy and quickly shoved my cock in and out of Yeji's. They both started to make out during this and their saliva was starting to drip onto me.

"Y/N you bastard. How dare you cheat on me with Ryujin. We haven't even been together for a whole week. But you can make up for it if you make me cum hard."

"Yeji I only did it to rile Ryujin up."

"So I was nothing but a tool for you Y/N? I'm going to make you cum so much until you don't have any cum left asshole."

-

The torture had gone on for hours at this point. I couldn't stop my cock from getting hard but I was extremely exhausted. I came so much yet somehow Yeji and Ryujin weren't getting slower.

"Y/N get your filthy cock hard again. You aren't done until I say so!"

"Please Yeji stop I can't take it!"

"Should have thought of that before you used her." Ryujin responded.

I licked Ryujin's pussy so much my tongue started to hurt. Eventually she finally came all over my face again.

"I'm done here Yeji you can take Y/N from here." Ryujin laid down next to me pulling me close. I felt her warm sweaty body press up against me and it turned me on again.

"So your cock does still have some life in it."

"Yeji please no more."

"One more Y/N or should I beat the living shit out of you for cheating on me?"

I groaned and continued to thrust into Yeji. My body felt like it was on fire and I was sweating profusely.

"Ah! Yes Y/N show me how much you love me!"

"Yeji my cock is so sore!"

After a few more thrusts we both came at the same time. Yeji collapsed on me afterwards.

"Yeji I'm sorry I used you."

"It's fine Y/N but you better continue to fuck me like this."

"I don't think I have any cum left in me Yeji you drained everything."

Yeji kissed me softly and we both fell asleep.

-

The next morning we all woke up and out nostrils were filled with the smell of sex.

"It smells like 20 people had sex in here." Ryujin exclaimed, still groggy after she woke up.

"Come on Y/N help me clean up the place loser."

"Why me? Yeji also had sex with us!"

"Well you're the one who used her. So the least you can do is clean up her mess."

I had no choice. I got up and started to help Ryujin with the cleaning.

"You know Y/N I can't let this slide. No sex for 2 weeks."

"What!?

"You said you'd change your behavior and yet you went right back to using people for your own gain."

Ryujin gave me a smug look and I couldn't do anything but continue cleaning her room.

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

If you're wondering why it took so long to make part 2 it's because I had to rewrite this story 3 times. I'm so tired

Y/N gets degraded even more cause it's the only thing he deserves. I am never writing Y/N as dom.

[lis-likes-fics]

Love Letters

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: Murder, torture, depictions of mental illness, typical Criminal Minds content... A/N: Collabed with a couple friends about the serial killer. Guys, this was hard. Spent sooo much time building this character and then didn't even end up using all of the stuff we came up with. But it was fun and I enjoyed this and I hope you do too! Special thanks to the ones who helped me plan, @the-nerdy-goddess and @thecreature-bug and my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

A knock on your classroom door has you turning your head, and you smile at the sight of the math teacher one door down.

You know why she's here, sneaking a “meeting” before all the kids get here for homeroom. You roll your eyes, scooting back in your rolling chair and crossing your arms.

“So how was the date Saturday?” Esther asks, raising a teasing brow as she walks further into the room, taking a seat right on the side of your desk. “You get lucky?”

You scoff. “I wish. The guy was boring. It was a total snooze fest.” You pick up a paper from your grading stack, marking another consecutive one hundred on little Amelia's test. “I told him I was a teacher and he told me how he had a crush on his teacher from the eighth grade.”

“Blergh,” she groans, making a face. “Was he a gentleman, at least?”

“I wish, part two. He didn't pull a chair, he didn't open a door.”

She shakes her head in disappointment and pats your back. “Your gentleman is coming to you soon. You deserve it.” She reaches over, picking up your necklace and running her thumb over the F before dropping it back down. “And I like that necklace.”

You laugh sarcastically at her, jutting your chin out toward the mirroring E around her own neck. All the fifth grade teachers wear one, a gift from Sarah’s—the science teacher’s—birthday party. “I like yours.”

She brushes the golden charm on her dark chest with a smile. She scoots off your desk. “Hey, if you're looking for another date, I might have a guy.” She winks at you, and you almost throw a pencil at her.

“Don't you have a class to teach?”

“Eventually,” she shrugs. “Small accident a few blocks away, traffic’s backed up. Buses are late–”

“–and most of your class rides the bus.” You nod, “Yeah.”

She walks to the door, patting the frame twice. “But I'll leave you be. I have copies to print.”

You shoo her away. “Goodbye.”

She winks at you again, clicking her tongue. “See you.”

~

The elevator doors close as David steps in next to Aaron. After a quick once-over, he smiles. “You look tired. Jack?”

Aaron shakes his head as he glances at his shoes, “No. Jack's fine.”

“Oh,” Dave raises his brows. “Did Aaron Hotchner have a date?”

He chuckles, amused by the assumption. “Me?”

He shrugs. “Good to have a little hope.”

Another rare chuckle passes his lips as he shakes his head again. His voice is low and soft with his amusement. “Yeah, I had a date. With a wrench and a kitchen sink.”

He hums, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing the options. “A date is a date. At least you can fix the sink.”

“Alright,” he mumbles lightheartedly.

Dave pushes the doors open as they enter the round table room, watching as the rest of the team slowly makes their way. When everyone is present and accounted for, he begins.

“What have we got, Garcia?”

Penelope sets her coffee cup down, making a face. “Oh, my little ducklings, nothing good.” The screen turns on and presents a round of crime scene photos, multiple women covered in uniform cuts all matching the other perfectly, besides the differences in the letters adorning their chests. It's graphic and strange.

Garcia avoids looking with everything she has. “Some hikers at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia were going about their business when they found five perfectly marked graves lined up in a row.” The presses a button and said graves are shown before and after they were dug up. When Garcia says perfect, she means perfect. The graves are perfect rectangles, all the same size and depth and almost as though someone used a ruler to make sure the lines were straight.

“The bodies found were Madeline Johnsons, Beatrice Cabrera, Clara Warner, Dakota Platt,” one more press reveals a woman with dark skin now pale with death, “and our latest victim, Esther Cooke.”

The team flips through the files they were given, analyzing the information as it comes. “All were found covered in multiple incisions all over the body, and letters carved on their chests.” She makes a face. “I don't know how much you guys gate papercuts, but I know that if I got as many as our victims here, I'd be forever emotionally ruined.”

Reid's analytical eyes take in the sight of the bodies. “It's almost reminiscent of Lingchi, translated to ‘slow slicing’ or ‘death by a thousand cuts’. It was a form of torture and execution used in China around the 10th century until the early 20th century.” He talks a mile a minute, squinting his eyes at the photos as he does.

Prentiss shrugs, “Well, one papercut is bad enough, I could never do a thousand.”

JJ brings her drink to her lips. “I couldn't do ten.” They chuckle to each other.

Morgan juts his neck toward his files. “How did they die? The wounds are made for bloodletting.”

Garcia groans lightly. “So not glad you asked. Their throats were slashed, two incisions made at each side of the neck to cut the jugulars.” She adjusts her glasses, glancing at her tablet. “Autopsy reports say very slowly and with a very sharp knife. Like the unsub was trying very hard to keep steady. They also found traces of chemicals used in disinfectant in the wounds.”

Prentiss' brows knit together. “Why not just cut it clean across?”

“Well, look, there are 26 cuts in total on all the bodies, including the one at the neck,” Reid points out. “The incisions were very specific.”

“‘Course it was, look at that pattern,” Morgan says.

Each limb has a total of six equal cuts along the top of them, with the last two finishing off at the neck. It's too specific.

“All of the letters on their chests match the beginning of their names, except for Madeline. She has an A,” Garcia explains. “Madeline's family said she went by Addy.”

“Then the letters carved into them match the first letter of their names,” JJ says. “Maybe he's trying to go through the alphabet.”

“Matches the cuts,” Rossi shrugs. “There are 26 cuts, 26 letters of the alphabet.”

“Who died first and who was last?” Hotch asks, not looking up from his screen.

“They were killed and buried in alphabetical order, sir.”

A few members of the team nod, their theory supported. Reid clasps his hands. “Paired with the perfection of the graves, the specificity of the incisions, the disinfectant, we could be dealing with someone struggling with high level obsessive compulsive disorder.”

They agree.

“But how is he targeting his victims, other than by their names?” Prentiss wonders, “I mean, how does he figure out what their names are in the first place?”

Rossi sighs, “I guess that's what we have to find out.”

Hotch looks up at his team, his stern gaze glancing among them. “Based on the timeline of these kills, we hopefully have about a week before he strikes again. Let's not give him time. Wheels up in thirty.”

~

You look up at the gentle knock on your door interrupting your silent lunch break. You clear your throat, dropping your hand from your necklace as you lay eyes on Principal Luis.

“Hey,” she greets softly. “You doing okay?”

You nod, offering a half-hearted grin. You've had to smile at your kids all day today, despite the grief, and you were really depending on your break to wind down from it. “Considering.”

“You think you could talk? There are some FBI agents here with a few questions about Esther.”

You sniff, furrowing your brows. “FBI?” For you? You supposed that makes sense. You were close enough…

Two agents walk into the room, their professional blacks offset by the colorful parade that is your classroom. It looks strange, almost silly. You stand to greet them.

The woman offers a smile, a kind face to ease any worries you may have. The man is a little more stern, but there's a gentleness you admire hidden beneath.

“Hello, Ms. Hughes,” he greets. “I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau. We're with the FBI.”

“You can call me JJ,” she says as she reaches a hand out toward you. You take it. “We're here with a few questions about Esther Cooke.”

You try not to look too miserable.

Agent Hotchner’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. “The principal said you and Ms. Cooke were close?”

You nod, crossing your arms. The classrooms are always cold. It's felt a little colder lately.

“She worked right next door,” you try not to stutter. “We were the closest in our department. I'm holding conferences tomorrow with parents about taking some of her kids into my homeroom until we find a…a replacement.”

Noticing your disquiet, JJ speaks up. “Was there anything going on in Ms. Cooke’s life? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Thinking, you shake your head. “Not really.” You shrug, “It was school, home, and not much else. The occasional night out with me, we are–” you clear your throat, “we were both single.”

Agent Hotchner adds in, “We're there any strange absences or even a trip she was going on?”

Again, you think. But nothing really comes up until– “She mentioned that she went on this tour thing with her parents last weekend, local. Some sort of…hiking thing? It's usually for tourists but they won free tickets.” Then you back track, “Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?”

JJ glances at Agent Hotchner. You're not sure what that means. “It could be.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asks.

You shrug. “Monday…before she went home. She didn't show up Tuesday or Wednesday, I figured she just got sick or something…forgot to tell me.” You rub your cheek with your sleeve. “I thought it was weird ‘cause she didn't call in or anything. I had to request a sub for her.”

Agent Hotchner nods. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He dug in the inside pocket of his suit. “Call us if you have anything else. Here's my card.”

You reach out to take it, your fingers brushing. It was a comforting feeling. “Thank you.” The words are gentle as they leave you. You shake out of your slight daze, “Uh, here's mine if you have any other questions for me.”

You go behind your desk, grabbing a sticky note shaped like a koala and the first pen you see (which ends up being the brightest green marker you own)... The kids love the colors.

When Agent Hotchner takes it, he almost grins. You recognize the hidden amusement in some of the kids you teach. The ones that are harder to get to open up, even at this age. It's a little sad. Those kids happen to be some of the sweetest you know.

The sight of him in a sophisticated suit with all his professionalism, holding a cutesy koala sticky note is almost comical. He nods his thanks, and then turns to JJ.

They both begin to make their exit when you stop them. “Hey.” They turn. “Did anyone find her necklace?”

“Necklace?” JJ furrows her brow.

You nod. “All the fifth grade teachers have necklaces with our letters on them. Just like this.” You pick up the little charm around your neck for them to examine. “Except she had an E.” You let it drop, scratch the back of your neck as you hum. “Her parents said they never found it when they…”

The thought of saying “dug her up” out loud was haunting, and you already felt that shrinking feeling in your gut.

JJ redirects. “Would she normally take it off?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not Esther. She loves–” you sigh, annoyed now that you keep making the mistake of present tense. As an English teacher, it hurts more somehow. “She loved that necklace. We all do. We wear it nearly every day. Especially now.”

Agent Hotchner nods again, a really gentle movement that you honestly appreciate. “We'll keep an eye out,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod back at him, offering what smile you can. “Thanks.”

They leave and you check the time. You'd have to get your kids from lunch soon.

~

“Did she have anything?” Morgan wonders as Hotch and JJ return.

JJ’s teasing brows bounce. “Other than Hotch’s number? A bit.”

Rossi smirks, leaning across the table. “Did you find something special with our Ms. Hughes?” He puts emphasis on the title so Hotch is fully aware of her marital status.

“Let's focus, please.”

Hotch doesn't seem particularly annoyed, but there is a case at hand and he wants it solved as fast as possible.

Besides, it would be unprofessional to call her like this…asking her on a date after questioning her about her recently deceased.

The team giggles quietly amongst themselves. Children. But they do focus in as Morgan's phone rings as a signal to their resident oracle.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“I ran those credit card records like Hotch asked,” she starts. “All of which come up with very different results with no special link but one: three of the five all purchased hiking tickets for a guided trail a few days before they went missing. But they're very popular trails, tourists and families go all the time.”

“Hiking trail?”

“Is that significant?”

JJ looks around at the group. “Ms. Hughes said Esther Cooke’s parents won free tickets. They just went last weekend.”

“That would explain why it doesn't show up on the credit card records,” she says. The clack of her keyboard fills the space before she's speaking again. “Oh, yes, I see. The reservation is written in her mother's name.”

Reid looks up from the board where he worked on his geographical profile. “Clara loved out of state,” he says, “she was visiting. That could be how he found out about her.”

Rossi agrees. “So he's choosing most of his victims at the trail. Maybe he's a guide?”

JJ shrugs, “But how is he picking his victims?” She walks over to the pictures of all the victims hung up, their differences glaring as she shakes her head. “He's compulsive, he can't do it at random.”

“I don't think it is,” Hotch says. Eyes fall on him, urging clarification. “Ms. Hughes said something that stuck out to me. Esther Cooke always wore a necklace with the first letter of her name on it, but it was missing from the crime scene.”

The wheels turn in Reid’s head as he breaks away from his map. He picks up the crime scene photos, sorting through them to compare them to the headshots of the victims lining another board. “We might have something,” he mumbles. He picks up the first victim’s pictures. “Here, you can see Madeline wore a necklace with her nickname, Addy, on it. But at the burial site, it's missing.”

Prentiss catches on, picking another. A quick examination has her nodding along. “And look here. Clara had one, too. Hers is just a C.”

Rossi’s heavy brows furrow. “So you think he's targeting these women based on their necklaces?”

Reid words fly from his mouth as he speaks. “If he's killing them, burying them, and carving their letters all in alphabetical order, that could be his trigger—seeing the letters already in place and feeling the need to make it permanent, perfect.”

Morgan picks up Esther's picture, nodding. “We ready to give the profile?”

“I think so. Garcia,” her attention is lightning quick at the sound of her name, just like her wit, “get me a list of everyone who went on those trails and every guide who has led the ones our victims participated in.”

“That list is going to be longer than the Nile, but like Neith, I shall be victorious,” she declares.

Prentiss adds in. “Go ahead and narrow that down to white males who live in the area.”

“That helps.”

“Thank you, babygirl.”

“Happy to help, my salacious little snack.” She smacks the “ck”. He can hear the smirk in her voice. “I'll have that list in a jiffy.” Morgan chuckles as the call ends.

~

You plaster a grin on your face as you welcome in the next pair. It's been a long day already. The children have been a little fussy, others just sad, about the changes going on during class. The parents you've seen already have been awkward, annoyed, or (on the better occasion) nice, and you're ready to go home.

Just a few more meetings, then you can go home.

“Hello,” you greet. “Thank you for coming in.”

Ms. Tucker smiles gently, doing her best to be kind. She's one of the more patient parents. Her husband on the other hand… You've never been able to describe him as patient.

“Could we make this quick?” Mr. Tucker asks, checking his watch. He blinks harshly once, twice, three times, before looking back up at you. “I've got an appointment in an hour and…thirteen minutes.”

“Don't be rude, Larry,” his ex-wife insists, rolling her eyes as they take a seat in the chairs set in front of your desk. You sit as well, mentally bracing yourself for his meeting.

“Well, she's bringing us in here to tell us our kid isn't doing well in school. How do you want me to behave?” Another tight blink follows as he whispers under his breath, “Behave, behave.”

Ideally, these meetings should take no more than maybe five minutes. But parents make that difficult sometimes.

“Maybe if you spent more time with Peter, he wouldn't be having trouble,” she insists.

The animosity coming off the two of them is creating an environment that makes you want to kick them out of your room and do what you want. But you can't.

He scoffs. “Spend more ti–”

“Actually…”

They turn back to you then, remembering you're there as they close their mouths and listen. “We're not here to talk about his behavior. Peter has been wonderful in class.”

You grab Peter's file. It's just a stack of papers with Esther's old notes for him and his grades. You clear your throat quietly. “As you may know, the teacher next door to me just passed, and we are rearranging her classes until we can find a suitable replacement because we are short staffed.”

You hate saying “replacement”. These meetings have been hard enough simply because she's gone, but being the one of the people already working to replace her has been mentally taxing.

You pull your necklace from inside your shirt, sighing as you look up at them, toying with the charm.

You don't catch it. The movement is so slight and the whisper is so gentle that the moment goes completely over your head as Mr. Tucker's eyes lock on your charm. Under his breath falls a small, “F…F, F.”

“This conference was just to ask about whether or not it would be alright to transfer Peter into my class,” you continue, grasping the top pages out of the file. “Otherwise, his behavior has been fine. He's a smart boy with good grades. Ms. Cooke’s notes do say that he has a bit of trouble mixing with classes though, and he can be a little distracted. Another reason he would switch, he needs the extra social help.”

Ms. Tucker leans in slightly. “You said he has trouble mixing in?”

You nod, tilting your head as you remember Peter's behavior during your classes. “He's a little lonely.”

Mr. Tucker murmurs under his breath, holding onto the words. “Lonely.” His brows twitch. “Lonely…lonely.” You know they're tics, so you try not to make it obvious that you've caught it.

“He got along well with the teachers, but he's closed off to the other students. She saw that a couple of other kids picked on him, but they were little things that we were able to solve fairly quickly.” You sigh, thinking for a moment. You have to choose the right words, or this will end in an argument. “I would recommend trying to get him into things outside of school. A sport or a club, just something to get him to interact with more kids.”

Ms. Tucker is all ears as you speak, taking in what she can as she contemplates a solution. Her ex-husband seems a little out of focus, however. He watches you, his eyes taking you in, in a way that makes you uncomfortable.

“It also helps when the parents are on the same page,” you push through, ignoring the crawling in your skin and focusing on this child and his needs. “I realize you went through a divorce recently, which can be tough on your son. I know it's not my business to manage your relationship, but for the sake of your son, it's important not to be hostile in front of him. It could force him into thinking he has to choose a side, which can lead to negative effects on his mental health.”

She nods, soaking it in. “We can talk about it. You have our permission to take him in.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tucker nods. You watch his head dip three times. “Yes, yes.”

You sigh internally, glad the meeting is coming to a close. “Thank you,” you smile. “Did you have any questions for me?”

He replies, smiling as well. “No. Thank you.”

“Alright,” you close Peter's file, “then we should be good.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Tucker says. She reaches a hand out to shake your hand, and you take it. Her ex-husband does the same, though he lingers a little longer than you appreciate.

“Of course.”

They leave. You take a moment to breathe before you welcome in the next parents. And two meetings later, you've wrapped everything up. After clearing your desk, you snatch your things and head straight for the door.

You're happy to know it's not too late when you step out of the building. The sun is still up, but the moon is beginning to show with the coming evening. As you make your way to your car in the relatively lonely parking lot, it blinks when you unlock the doors.

You open the back door to throw your things inside, slamming it shut and opening the front in one movement.

You don't hear the footsteps behind you over the sound of your relief about the end of your day. So when something comes down hard at the back of your head, your pain and surprise is interrupted by the sudden darkness that overcomes you.

~

“You're on speaker.”

Garcia’s voice arises from Morgan's voice like the oracle she is. “Then I shall speak my prophecy for all to hear. I narrowed that list down significantly to the tour guides that lead the trails all of the victims went on—except the one who didn't. Speaking of, it turns out that our odd one out, Dakota Platt, put in an application to work as a guide but was denied. Anyway, I came up with three matches.”

Rossi hums. “Narrow the list to anyone recently going through a major change. A divorce, potential job loss, something like that.”

The sound of Garcia’s keyboard is heard over the phone, her voice coming a second later. “That takes one out. There's Perry Williams, he's just suffered a loss in the family—his mother died of lung cancer four months ago, around when the killings started. Then there's one other, Laurence Tucker, who just went through a divorce around a year ago. He's fighting a custody battle with his wife, started a couple weeks before the estimated time of the first murder.”

“Can you take a look at their medical histories?” Prentiss requests.

“Tucker has diagnosed OCD. He stopped taking his meds at the same time as the divorce.”

JJ is already on her feet as she slips her phone in her pocket. “That's our guy.” The rest of the team follow suit.

“I've just sent his home address to your phones.”

Hotch is packing his things as he speaks. “Garcia, go through his history. There may be something to suggest where he may be taking his victims to torture them. He can't be taking them home.”

Morgan raises the phone to his mouth. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

“Anything for you. Garcia out.”

~

“Clear.”

At the sound of the last check, Hotch lowers his gun as he sighs. “Hotch.” He looks over to see Reid peeking his head out of a room down the hall. He follows him, walking inside and following his gaze down to Reid’s hand, where he's holding a necklace he's pulled from a dark box on the dresser.

There are four necklaces neatly arranged within it, the fifth in Reid’s hand. An E for Esther.

His phone rings. “Yes, Garcia?”

She speaks quickly. “Our guy grew up in the area and attended a schoolhouse when he was little that was shut down years ago for unusual practices with the students. Reports found that the teachers there used to discipline ‘bad kids’—and by bad, I'm not talking just behavior, these are kids with diagnosed Autism, ADHD, OCD, the whole alphabet. Oh…maybe that wasn't the best word.”

“How were they disciplined?” Reid asks, pulling her back on track.

“Oh, right! The teachers used to slap hands with rulers and spank these children, sometimes with paddles. Sometimes kids would come home with big red letters drawn on their chests or clothes when they received failing grades as a way to shame them into passing.” She hums, “I'm guessing that's where the signature comes from.”

Reid sets the necklace down, “Is the building still up?”

“Like I said, it was shut down years ago. It was marked for demolition, but they never got around to it. The building still very much exists, and it's covered in wooden boards and caution tape.”

Hotch nods. “Send us the address. This could be where he's killing them.”

“Already done,” she says. “Also, fun fact. I learned that Tucker's son attends the school Esther Cooke taught at. Apparently, he was one of her students.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine as he thought about that. Scrambling in his jacket, he pulls out the koala sticky note in the inside pocket. “Garcia, I need you to give me another address.”

Reid’s brow furrows at his sudden haste. “What's wrong?”

“Ms. Hughes held conferences today for the parents of children Esther Cooke taught.”

Reid walks after him as Garcia retrieves the address. “So?”

“She wears an F.”

~

Your bleary eyes are so dazed and heavy. Mixed with the pain, it was hard to keep your head up and your eyes open. The letters lining the top of the walls, the alphabet which wraps around the room, fly around your head. It mixes with the chairs and desks, arranged so neatly around the room, lining the walls like the letters do. There's chalk and pencils and paper, all old and run down but set so neatly. The chaos and the tidiness is maddening.

It really hurts. Your arms and legs are covered in cuts, slow and methodical and painful. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, sweat sticks to your forehead and you feel heavy and sick. He'd removed your necklace. It's sitting on the desk where he keeps the rest of his supplies. You want it back.

His disorder is evident, and it bleeds over you with a glaring taunt. Every time he cuts you, he measures it with a ruler, and then you're thrown through the added torture of him disinfecting the wound each time. He counts it each time. He chants under his breath every time he cuts you, every time you talk, every time he blinks.

You just want to go home.

“Mr. Tucker, please,” you beg for the hundredth time, your plea falling on deaf ears.

He shakes his head, his ruler in the middle of your thigh. You want to move it. If he can't make a precise cut, he won't cut. But you don't have the strength. It's taking a lot to keep your head up.

“Hush,” he urges absentmindedly. “Hush, hush.” He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, careful not to use his hands.

“Why are you doing this?”

His attention is razor sharp as he measures. “I have to.”

It’s the most answer he's given you so far. Maybe if you just keep him talking, you'll be able to talk him out of it. You keep your voice gentle, trying not to sound as pained as you are. “Why?” you ask, though your voice wavers. “What did I do? What did Esther do?”

The name seems to spark something as he nods three times. “E, E, E.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this because of our necklaces?”

He shakes his head this time. Three times. “You won't understand.”

You sigh heavily. “Then help me understand.”

“You won't, you won't.” He picks up the knife, and you flinch away from him. “You won't.”

You keep trying. “You just have to talk to me,” you give him the best smile you can. “You can talk to me, Larry.” If you say his name, maybe you'll appeal to him. You can make it personal. You have to try something.

He mutters under his breath, as though he's thinking. “Talk, talk…talk.”

You nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. Just put the knife down, and we can talk.”

A scream tears through your throat as he drags the sharp blade across your thigh. It burns and it sears and tears stream down your cheeks at the feeling.

“19, 19, 19.”

You don't know what number he's going to, but you're scared for what he'll do when he finishes counting.

You struggle around the lump in your throat to speak, forcing out a breath to try and level yourself. “Is this about your OCD?” He glances up at you, but he doesn't give it too much thought. “I recognize it. Peter has early signs.”

“Peter,” he mumbles, finally taking pause to think. He hums and blinks.

“Yes, Peter,” you urge. “Your son. If you keep going, you could hurt him.” It's hard to see past your tears, but you keep going anyway. “When you get caught, and you will get caught, Peter will be taken away from you forever. He'd never forgive you.”

“Forgive me,” he huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his face. He grips his ruler in one hand. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He presses the ruler to the other leg, “Stop talking.”

You try to squirm, “Larry– Ah!” You purse your lips to stifle your shout, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists.

“20, 20, 20.”

A round of sobs rack through you. You can't hide the pain anymore. It's so evident, and it's so intense. You can't breathe. You hiss as the disinfectant stings.

“Please,” you cry. “Please, just tell me why.”

He shakes his head. He's upset now, you can see it in the crease of his brow, in the excessive head shakes, in the way he rubs his face so roughly. “They said I have to.”

“Who?”

“My teachers.” He looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the alphabet lining the walls.

You follow his gaze. The schoolhouse actually makes sense now. You thought he'd chosen it because it was abandoned…

“I can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet, alphabet.” He says it like he's reciting something, like he's punishing himself.

Your breath is heavy, you blink rapidly, trying to see past your tear-filled eyes. “Your teachers made you do this?”

God, sometimes you hate teachers.

He rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily. “A, A, A,” he begins, speaking quickly and almost like he's struggling to speak. It reminds you of memorization methods. Sometimes you suggest it to students who have trouble remembering vocab—write it down over and over until you remember. Maybe that's why he's doing it? “B, B, B. C, C, C. D, D, D. E, E, E. F.”

He opens his eyes and points his knife at you. “F. F.”

The fear flares within you again. You try not to turn to a blubbering mess. You can't communicate with him if you can't speak properly. “Is that what you're doing?”

He moves to your arm. You try to pull at the duct tape he's got wrapped securely around your hands. You've been trapped here so long, your hands are numb, your wrists are bruising.

“Have to get to Z, Z, Z.”

You almost shout it when he presses the ruler to your arm. “Listen, listen, listen!” you say it in a rush, so, so scared. He actually stops. “Okay, they said to say it three times, right? You have to write it three times?”

The number triggers his tic. “Three, Three, three.” It's honestly becoming annoying. It's insistent and repetitive and it feels almost invasive. But you have to be patient or he'll just kill you faster.

“You don't have to do this.” Your face is itchy from the tears drying and re-wetting, but you can't scratch. “You're gonna be okay.”

He's not listening anymore. “Behave,” he warns, holding the knife to your face. “Behave.” He shakes his head. “Behave.”

He's stopped listening. Despite your screams, he measures and cuts and cleans and measures and cuts and cleans, repeating each number as he comes to it with calculated method.

You clench your fists as the knife digs into your thigh again. You're surprised you can get your broken cries out as you struggle to breathe.

He stands up, taking large steps back to look at his work. You suppose he's almost done, and that terrifies you.

You think about your students, the little kids in your classroom who have already lost one teacher and are now going to lose a second. All those good kids are going through so much already. They all loved Esther. You know they all loved you. You have a wall of art, holiday cards, and plenty of hugged legs to show for it.

You don't want to lose them. You don't want them to lose you.

In a last ditch effort to dissuade him from his pursuits, you shake your head and sigh heavily. “Please.”

He comes closer to you, squinting his eyes to try to ease you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he says. “Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon, soon, soon.”

He presses the ruler to your neck, and you don't have the strength to fight it. It inspires more tears as you shake your head weakly. “Please, please, please.” You chant it, closing your eyes shut. You brace for the end…

Both of you jump when the loudest crash resonates within the room. Wood splinters and heavy boots stomp against the floor. Startled, he staggers back. You open your eyes, lights flashing as the room crowds with armoured people.

“Laurence Tucker, drop the knife.”

You know that voice. You recognize it. It's hard to see past the lights and the tears in your eyes. You know him.

“Can't! Can't. Can't, I have to finish. I have to finish. I have to finish.”

He's panicking. Too many things happening at once, everything out of order, everything out of control. He grips the knife tighter, looking between you and the cops in the room.

Someone else, their voice louder and less patient, shouts. “Drop the knife now!”

“Behave, behave. Behave!”

Someone else's voice, softer and somehow understanding, speaks. Though the voices are beginning to blur. “We know what your teachers did to you,” he bids. “We know how they hurt you.”

They hurt him.

He shakes his alphabet, losing it over the chaos. His frustration is palpable. Every time they speak, he gets more and more angry. “Can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet. I'm supposed to do the alphabet!”

“Larry,” you speak, your voice hoarse from overuse. You catch your breath, keeping your voice level. Like you're talking to one of your students. He's scared, he's angry. He needs patience. “Larry, look at me.”

You can practically feel the concern of the agents rolling off of them. They don't want you misspeaking and making him more upset than he already is.

But he looks at you, and he seems to respond to the softness because his furrowed brows shift very slightly, his anger turns to some semblance of fear.

Although it hurts, you try to smile. It's taking so much to lift your head, even more to get the words out without the heaviness of your rising fear and exhaustion.

“They were bad teachers.” He rubs his face, but you press on, speaking slowly. “They weren't supposed to hurt you. Teachers are supposed to help. They were wrong.”

He closes his eyes. “They were wrong,” he whispers, like he's trying to convince himself. “They were wrong, wrong.”

The desperation seeps in. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let them help you.”

“Help me,” he mutters, his voice as quiet as yours. “Help me, help me.”

The first voice, the one you know, he speaks again, patient but still an order. “Drop the knife, and we can help you.”

“Help me,” he whispers. Slowly, he moves as he contemplates the words. “Help me.” They raise their guns in alarm, but he keeps crouching until he's finally kneeling on the floor. He grips the knife. “Help me.”

“Just breathe, Larry,” you huff. The spark of adrenaline you'd gotten from your rescue is wearing off again. You feel like you might pass out. “It'll be okay,” you mutter. “It's going to be okay, it'll be okay.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. “Okay…okay,” he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor. “Okay.”

They make quick work of cuffing him, forcing his hands behind his back as the metal clinks against itself.

An agent immediately rushes to you, and you immediately recognize him, just as you had his voice. Agent Hotchner kneels before you, carefully removing the duct tape around your wrists and ankles. “Are you alright?” His voice is so soft and gentle. You lean into it as your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

“I think I'm gonna pass out.”

Your voice is scratchy when you speak. He looks you over, and his hand comes to press against your cheek. It's oddly intimate, though you know it's for comfort. You lean into the warmth. It's helping.

“No, you won't,” he says as he removes the tape wrapped around your middle. “I've got you.” He glances behind him, throwing his demand over his shoulder. “Get me a medic.”

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?”

You want to say yes, but you genuinely don't think so. You shake your head, “I don't know.”

“Do you want me to help you stand?”

You nod, the movement choppy. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. He wraps his arm under yours, lifting you slowly, carefully, like you're fragile and precious. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your words are sticky and slow. You genuinely think you're going to pass out. “You know my name.”

“Yes, I do.” He nods, and when you glance up at him, he's giving you the gentlest smile, and you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Can you make sure I have it right?”

You hum. “Fawn Hughes.”

You're so discombobulated that you don't even give him your birth name, instead the one granted to you since you were little.

“Fawn,” he mutters. “Is that your nickname?”

You nod, slowly, and hum.

“It's nice.”

The both of you make your way as he helps you hobble out of the schoolhouse and into the evening air, past golden hour where pinks and purples coat the sky. It goes a little faster when the medic finally arrives. They help you onto a stretcher, and Agent Hotchner apologizes every time you whine at the pain.

When you're settled, he gives you a gentle nod. You grab his hand before he can turn to leave, hoping he doesn't notice the way you wince and knowing he does. “Thank you,” you mutter.

He sighs gently. “Don't thank me.”

“Thank you,” you say again, a little more insistent this time. You swallow thickly, the falling adrenaline increasing the solemnity as your exhaustion begins to crash down on you in waves. You're surprised when you feel a tear slip down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline. You'd cried so much already, you weren't aware you still could. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come through, I'd be dead. So thank you.”

He looks down at you, nodding gently, the movement almost imperceptible. “You're welcome.” He glances at the medic, and then toward the ambulance waiting for you. “They'll take care of you.”

You didn't want to ask, but the need is too strong. You're so scared, and he's the only one here you truly trust. Besides the fact that he'd come to your rescue, you don't necessarily know why.

“Can you please stay?”

He thinks for a moment. Really, he should be here helping the rest of the team. But as he looks over, locking eyes with Rossi talking with Prentiss, he looks between the two of you and sends him a nod.

Agent Hotchner turns back to you and nods. “Yes.”

You want to thank him again, but you know he'll just tell you not to. As they load you into the ambulance, he holds your hand, and you lay back and answer the medics questions.

~

“Mom, I'm fine.”

You sigh, as your mother's worried voice rises from the other end of your phone. “You were kidnapped and tor—Shit!—tortured by a deranged serial killer. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you don't have to be. I'm okay. See?” You show her the bandages wrapped around your arms. “Patched up and healthy. Doctors say I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“We'll be there by then.”

“You don't have to come down.”

“Hush. We're coming down, and you can't stop us. I love you, and we'll see you in the morning.”

She hangs up before you can respond. You shake your head and sigh, setting your phone down. At least you know she was worried about you.

You glance up when you hear a knock at your door. “Come in.”

The door opens as Hotch steps inside. His face is gentle, though without a smile. You miss it in a way as you offer your own.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice just as soft.

You take in a breath. “Okay,” you say. “Considering.” You motion to your phone on the bedside table. “Got off the phone with my mom, she's…already on her way from out of state.”

He closes the door gently behind him, sitting on the chair beside your bed. “She's worried about you.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, glancing over at him. His eyes are on you. Your lip twitches, fighting a bigger smile. You clear your throat. “Doctor said I'll scar, but…the knife was so sharp and steady enough that they should scar fine… They're discharging me in the morning.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

Honestly, the quiet is nice. You look at him, at the features of his face, the softness mixed with his professionalism looks good on him.

“We retrieved this from the schoolhouse,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He hands you a necklace, your necklace. You smile gently, reaching out for it as he places it in your palm.

You're going to have trouble wearing it for a while, but it's nice to have it back. You look up at him thankfully.

“We also found this at Tucker's house.”

He hands you a second necklace. It's identical to your own, except this one has an E…for Esther.

You swallow the rising lump in your throat. Your smile aches as you breathe through the tears threatening to well in your eyes. You look up at him, your smile trembling as you hold back tears you've already shed. “Thank you.” He nods, smiling very briefly. “I'll, uh…I'll get it back to her family.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another comfortable silence falls over you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you think. Something's on his mind.

“What is it?” you mutter.

He contemplates for a moment before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to talk him down so well? You seemed so…calm.”

You look down at Esther's necklace, thinking for a moment as you shrug. You speak slowly, clearing your throat as you rub the thumb of your free hand along the white bandage on your forearm.

“He told me his teachers made him do it.” You close your eyes and take a steadying breath, the events of the night before too fresh to ignore. “That agent…said his teachers hurt him, so I treated it like an abusive parent situation. He just needed someone to be on his side.”

You hate that it had to be you, but at least you understand why he did what he did. You almost hate that you understand. “He was hurt as a kid. That kid needs to know he's not alone.”

Hotch thinks about that, nodding gently. “You're a wonderful teacher.”

His words are genuine. It warms you and puts you back at ease. “Thanks.” You smile at him, his little one reflecting back at you. “I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do with myself until they let me go back to my kids.”

A tiny chuckle escapes him. It's a good sound for him. “I think the children will be fine.” You chuckle as well, the sound of his laugh a contagious thing that you can't help.

He glances over his shoulder, out of the open blinds of your room to see Rossi standing in the hall. Hotch’s smile simmers down as they make eye contact. He nods, standing to his feet with a sigh.

“I have to go,” he says, almost regretfully. “Get well soon.”

You turn your palm up as it rests in your lap, wanting to reach for him but not wanting to seem desperate. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Ms. Hughes.”

After a moment, Hotch turns toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. “Agent Hotchner?” you call timidly, your heart thumping in your chest and your palms clammy. He pauses on his way to the door, turning back to you with a gentle look.

You clear your throat, dipping your head and trying not to seem as nervous as you feel. You almost died. If that didn't tell you how short life is, you don't know what will. Asking wouldn't hurt.

“I know you're probably busy and all, but…” you lick your bottom lip, summoning the courage to look him in the eyes as you smile nervously. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” You think for a moment, “I'll stop thanking you so much if you do.”

Since meeting this man, the smile he gives you is the largest you've seen on him. It summons your own beaming grin as he looks at you with cheeks you swear are tinted pink. He chuckles gently, taking a couple slow steps to you as he nods. “I would love to.” All the weight of your worries lift from your shoulders with a sigh. “Please, call me Aaron.”

Your cheeks warm at his gentle affection. You have to clear your throat to speak. “Okay, Aaron,” you say. “But only if you call me Fawn.”

Another tiny chuckle comes out of him. “Where did Fawn come from?”

It’s a genuine question, an innocent curiosity you're happy to sate. “I used to be obsessed with deer as a kid. The nickname stuck,” you say with a shrug. “Some people think it's stupid, though. You can call me by my–”

His interruption isn't rude. In fact, you have to fight the urge to hide your face away as he says next, “I'm looking forward to that dinner, Fawn.”

You smile. “I'll hold you to that.”

Aaron gives you one last smile, saying a soft goodbye as he leaves the room to join Rossi, who gives him the biggest smirk he's ever witnessed.

As David opens his mouth to say something, Aaron stops him immediately with a raised hand and an annoyed grin on his face. “Don't.”

David raises his hands in defense, walking silently next to Aaron to join the team.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300

[hjparisian]

always yours-harry j potter x reader

p: harry j potter x fem! reader w: TW !!! toxic relationship, abuse, fluff ending, cussing, not proof read summary: harry and (y/n) come across each other a bit after the war and reconnect. a/n: another request from a lovely follower! so sorry this is so late. i haven't had motivation to write and couldn't figure out what to even write. if any of you guys are in an abusive relationship, please try to reach out to someone! i know it's better said than done but you all deserve the best.

The light breeze felt perfect to (Y/N). It was her day off of work from the Ministry today, so (Y/N) decided to use this day for herself to relax. Merlin knows that her work and her boyfriend has her feeling drained.

(Y/N) had just exited Flourish and Blotts, nose in one of the new books she bought. Her focus was disrupted when she bumped into a large figure, making her drop her book.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going," (Y/N) said to the person as she went to pick up her book but someone else grabbed it first.

"Oh it's alright, no worries," a familiar voice said to her.

(Y/N) looked up to the person handing her her book back.

"Wait, H-Harry?"

"(Y/N)?"

The girl was in shock. In front of her was her old friend and former crush, Harry Potter. The last time they've seen each other was at the Battle of Hogwarts. Though she had returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Harry did not.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) asked the man.

"I was just grabbing some stuff for school."

"School?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."

"That's amazing Harry!" (Y/N) said to him. "I mean you were the best at the class. Plus you were such an amazing teacher when you taught Dumbledore's Army so it doesn't surprise me."

"Thanks, (Y/N). And what are you doing?"

"Oh, I just came from Flourish and Blotts. It's my day off from the Ministry and I was looking for new books."

"Well," Harry says. "What else do you have planned for today?"

"Honestly, nothing else."

"Do you want to come over to my place?" Harry asked her. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I was just hoping we could catch up maybe?"

"I would love to," (Y/N) said without a second thought.

Harry and (Y/N) exited the Leaky Cauldron and apparated to Harry's place. It was an apartment not too far from London. Harry unlocked the door and let (Y/N) enter.

It was a rather simple but clean apartment. There were a couple photos on the walls from Harry's years at Hogwarts. One that caught (Y/N)'s eye was a picture of Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year. Harry was in the middle of the photo and (Y/N) somehow had a spot right next to Harry.

"Bring back memories, huh?" Harry said as he stood behind her.

"Yeah. I still remember the first meeting." (Y/N) said. "I wanted to punch Zacharias in the face."

Harry laughed at your comment. "Me too, but he did come around."

Harry guided (Y/N) to the couch in his living room.

"Did you want anything to drink?" Harry asked her. "I got water, butterbeer, firewhiskey."

"Some butterbeer please."

Harry left to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of butter beer, handing one to (Y/N).

"So, how are Hermione and Ron?"

"They're good. They got engaged recently."

"Really?" (Y/N) said in awe. "That's wonderful! I remember talking with Hermione about Ron back in sixth year. Finally got her to admit her feelings for him."

Harry nodded his head, grinning at the memories. "They were both too stubborn to realize it."

(Y/N) nodded before taking a sip of the butterbeer. "What about you Harry? You were with Ginny last I heard."

"I was but not anymore." (Y/N) had a shocked look on her face. "We broke up a while back."

"Really? And Ron hasn't killed you?" (Y/N) asked.

Harry chuckled a bit. "It was actually Ginny who ended it. It was mutual so no bad blood between us."

"That's good then."

A question had been burning on the back of Harry's mind. Thankfully, they were on the topic of it.

"What about you? Are you with anyone?"

(Y/N) set down the bottle she was holding before she answered. "I am actually."

Harry felt his heart drop a bit. "Who is it?"

(Y/N) started messing with the hem of her top, feeling a bit nervous. "Do you remember Cormac McLaggen? He tried out for keeper our sixth year."

For some reason, Harry felt his heart crumble a bit. That bloke Cormac is with (Y/N)? Those two couldn't be anymore different. How could that troll earn her love?

"Harry?"

(Y/N)'s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Are you alright Harry? You were zoning out a bit," (Y/N) pointed out.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine. I remember him, bit of a jerk from what I remember in sixth year." Harry said. "Is Cormac good to you?"

(Y/N) avoided eye contact and kept messing with her shirt. "Oh yeah. I mean we have a few arguments here and there, but he means well. Do you mind bringing another bottle of butterbeer please?"

Harry nodded before getting up to the kitchen again. He didn't necessarily believe (Y/N), but he wasn't going to prod on their relationship.

The two had been enjoying reconnecting. Harry told (Y/N) stories from his first year teaching at Hogwarts, one including how a third year girl sent him a singing card on Valentine's Day. (Y/N) also told Harry about her job at the Ministry and how her coworker spilt coffee on Kingsley Shacklebolt's robes.

(Y/N) looked at the clock on the nearby wall to see that it was a quarter past twelve am. She couldn't believe that she's been talking to Harry for this long. She had to get home.

"Hey Harry, I have to get going," (Y/N) told the man sitting next to her.

Harry looked at the clock to also see how late it was. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize the time."

"It's quite alright Harry, I had a wonderful time with you anyways."

"Will you be apparating home?" Harry asks her. "Don't want you to head home by yourself if you aren't."

"Yes, I am. You don't need to worry," she said to him. "Besides, I know a few spells thanks to a certain Gryffindor."

Harry smiled a bit, knowing she was referring to him.

"I'll see you later Harry," (Y/N) said while handing him a paper.

The girl disapperated, returning to her home.

Harry unfolded the paper, which revealed some numbers. It was (Y/N)'s phone number. Right under it, she left a small message.

Call me! :)

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to hearing noises coming from the kitchen. She put on a sweater and walked out to find her boyfriend Cormac cooking.

"Good morning," he said to her.

"Morning," she said.

"Thought I'd make us breakfast before you go to work," said Cormac. "Also where were you last night? You got home pretty late."

"I was catching up with an old friend."

Cormac hummed before asking her the dreaded question. "Who?"

"Oh it's no one special," she nervously said.

Cormac raised an eyebrow at her before asking again. "Who were you with, (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) cleared her throat before speaking. "Harry."

"Potter?"

"Yeah him."

(Y/N) looked at her boyfriend, seeing a look of resentment in his eyes.

"I never really liked that bloke." Cormac said while handing (Y/N) her plate. "Gave the keeper spot to Weasley just because that's his best friend."

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to say anything to make Cormac upset.

The two ate until (Y/N) had to go to work. While heading to work, (Y/N) felt her phone buzz. She saw it was a number she didn't recognize, but the back of her mind was hoping it was a certain boy.

(Y/N) took chance and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello?" A familiar voice said. "Is this (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) laughed a bit before responding. "Yes it is."

"Oh good. It's Harry."

"I know," (Y/N) said, smiling. "I recognized your voice."

"Ah yeah," Harry said. "How are you?"

"Good. Just heading to work."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I can call later."

(Y/N) felt herself smiling more.

"No it's alright! I have time. Besides, it makes the travel to work less lonely."

And so began a new routine of Harry calling her on her way to work. Which then went into them calling each other after work. On nights Cormac was away, Harry and (Y/N) would call each other.

Harry and (Y/N) began seeing each other more in person too. He'd join her on trips to Diagon Alley for more books or to grab a bite after a long day of work.

This change did not go by unnoticed by Cormac, though. He noticed how distracted she became, how she smiled at her phone more, how she left for work earlier and came back later, how she'd go out more.

The boy had enough.

One day, when (Y/N) had returned from work late, Cormac was sitting in her living room, waiting for her arrival.

"Oh! Didn't know you were here Cormac, I thought you wouldn't get home 'til later," the girl said upon noticing her boyfriend on her couch.

"Where were you?" The boy asked her.

Cormac had gotten up and walked towards her, glaring at her.

(Y/N) had begun to feel a bit nervous, knowing Cormac wouldn't like the reason she had returned late.

"I-I was at work," (Y/N) stammered out.

"What about after work?" Cormac questioned her. "Where did you go?"

"Just went to grab a bite."

Cormac began pestering her. "With who? You had to have been with someone if you've taken this long."

(Y/N) felt herself starting to shake. She had never enjoyed when Cormac began to act like this, knowing he was getting angry and a bit emotional.

"I was just out with a friend," she meekly said.

"I wanna know who you were with (Y/N)."

"It was just a friend, Cormac."

"Don't bullshit me. Was it with Potter?"

(Y/N)'s hesitation was all Cormac needed to get his answer.

"It was with Potter, wasn't it."

(Y/N) couldn't lie to him, knowing he figured her out. She nodded.

"Yes, but he's just a friend."

Cormac laughed at her. "Oh really, (Y/N)? Doesn't look like it to me. All those days you came home late, were on the phone for hours. Probably all with fucking Potter. Wouldn't be surprised if you went and shagged him."

--TW description of physical abuse--

"Cormac, I didn't shag him! We were just reconnecting, that's all. Please let's just tal-"

A loud smack echoed through the room.

Cormac had hit her.

"Shut up you bitch!"

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s face. Cormac took noticed of this and began laughing at her.

"You're crying?" The boy shoved her against the wall. "What if I give you something to actually cry about?"

"Cormac, stop!" (Y/N) sobbed.

He let go of her and let her drop to the ground. (Y/N) had begun sobbing loudly, hyperventilating.

"Get out (Y/N)! Go to your fucking boyfriend Potter for all I care." Cormac screamed at her.

--TW end--

(Y/N) had pushed herself up and got out the door before Cormac slammed it behind her. She decided to use her strength to apparate to the only person that could help her.

She knocked on the door and waited a second before it opened to reveal her former schoolmate.

Harry stared at her before bringing her inside and embracing her. She flinched, but began melting into his embrace after telling herself that it's just Harry.

"I just need to know," Harry began. "Did Cormac do this to you?"

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to speak.

Harry felt himself become angry. How could Cormac do this to her? She was an angel, unlike that asshole. He never deserved her. But did Harry himself deserved (Y/N)? He couldn't protect her, keep her safe. This could've been avoided if Harry was with (Y/N).

He couldn't think about that now when (Y/N) was in his arms needing care. He brought the girl to his bathroom, doing his best to try and tend the bruises that littered her skin. Harry drew a bath and brought a change of clothes for (Y/N).

"I'll be right outside, I promise." He told her. "I'll have to finish checking your bruises when your done."

Once (Y/N) decided to get out of the bath half an hour later, Harry made sure he didn't miss any other injuries before bringing her to his bed. He was just going to let her rest until a hand grabs his.

"Don't leave. Please."

Harry would always listen to (Y/N).

The boy stayed with her until sleep finally took over. As much as Harry wanted to stay with her, he had business to take care of.

Thankfully, he remembered where (Y/N) lived after dropping her off multiple times so he apparated in the night to her door. He banged on the door hard until it opened, revealing his new worst enemy.

"What do you want Potter? (Y/N) isn't here."

"Oh I know." Harry told Cormac. "Just came for a chat."

Harry stepped forward in an attempt to enter the house until Cormac stopped him.

"I'm busy right now."

"Well I guess I can try to make this quick," Harry said.

A punch was thrown at the older wizard, catching him off guard. Harry grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed them into the apartment, shoving him up against the nearest wall.

"I know what you did to (Y/N), McLaggen. How dare you hurt her!" Harry screamed at him.

"I didn't do such thing." Another punch was thrown.

"Don't you dare lie to me! I know you did it. You hurt her! You never deserved her."

"Oh but you think you do?" Cormac scoffed at Harry, while trying to push him off.

"I would've treated her way better than you ever have."

"You want a slut like her? You're pathetic Potter."

Those words had enraged Harry more than ever. The two continued fighting, Harry having the upper hand. One more punch landed on Cormac before he fell to the floor.

"You better stay away from (Y/N). If I hear that you stepped one foot near her I won't hesitate to punch you again," Harry spat at him before making his leave back to his home.

Harry headed for his room, wanting to make sure that the girl he loves was still there. Fortunately, she was, but she was awake.

"Where did you go Harry? I was getting worried."

"I just went to take care of something," he said, trying to reassure her.

"What do you need to take care of at this time?" (Y/N) said while walking toward him.

A small gasp slipped her month before her hand made contact with his cheek. Harry would be lying if he said it didn't feel nice.

"You're hurt Harry!" (Y/N) exclaimed before dragging him to his bathroom.

"(Y/N) love, I'm fine." He kind of wasn't. Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw the marks Cormac apparently left him. He was too focused on getting vengeance for (Y/N) that he ignored it.

(Y/N) began cleaning his face. "Harry, you have dried blood on your face. I don't think that's considered fine. What were you doing?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't be upset," Harry said to her.

"What?" (Y/N) paused, confused.

"Just promise me."

"Fine. I promise I won't get upset."

"Alright, well," Harry began. The adrenaline was gone and he began feeling nervous. "I went to visit Cormac at your guys apartment."

"You went to see Cormac?" (Y/N) squeaked. "Why would you do that Harry?"

"I couldn't stand what he did to you (Y/N). He hurt you. You didn't deserve what he did. I had to teach him a lesson."

"So you went to beat each other up?"

"Well, him more so than me," Harry joked.

"Why? Why would you beat him up for me?"

"Because (Y/N). I love you."

(Y/N)'s eyes widen in shock. "W-what?"

"I love you. And I think I always have. Seeing you brought back those feelings I've had back when we were at Hogwarts. I would do anything to protect you (Y/N)."

"Oh Harry," tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes.

Harry noticed and got a little bit worried. "It's alright if you don't feel the same way. I know you just had to deal with Cormac so-"

Arms wrapped around him and lips met his. Harry froze for a second before melting into it, gently placing his hands on her waist.

(Y/N) was the first to break the kiss, to respond to Harry's declaration of love to her.

"I love you too, Harry."

(Y/N) finished cleaning up Harry before heading back to his bed. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm and safe.

"I promise to protect you no matter what," Harry said to her. "I would do anything for you."

"And I will do the same for you, because you're mine."

"And I will always be yours."

[rowdyluv]

Peter

based off of Taylor Swift’s song from The Tortured Poets Department

warning: a bit sad, longing for ex-lover, use of y/n

Ethan Edwards x fem!Reader

summary: Ethan and reader childhood friends —> lovers —> break up —> reader heartbreakingly waiting for his return.

author’s note: the photos are intended to tell the story them growing up. the last last picture are two quotes from the book “better than the movies” by Lynn Painter. (can be found on Amazon, books a million, barnes & noble, etc. links were too long to post)

Ethan and (y/n)’s older childhood friends always joked the two would fall in love one day. It was always a big laugh between the two of you because what business do 8 year olds have thinking about love?

In a blink of an eye you’re dancing at your end of the year eighth grade formal together, your heart has never reacted the way it was at that specific moment. Confused and a bit scared you kept your head staring at the floor while your hands were firmly placed on Ethan’s shoulders. His hands placed awkwardly on your waist. He cleared throat and paused both of your movements. “Hey (y/n)? Can I do something and you promise you not get mad if you don’t like it? We can just forget about it after if it’s weird.” His words were rushed and hands shaking. Your eyes connected with his, a slight nod yes to confirm you were okay with whatever it was he was asking for. As if the world moved in slow motion and no one else was in the school’s lobby, where the formal was happening but the two of you, Ethan ducked his head down just the few inches he needed to in order to give a quick kiss.

The first kiss for both of you.

Awkward, yet not weird for either of you. The beginning of what turned into a long beautiful journey. Until it wasn’t beautiful.

꧁꧂

“(Y/N) I am so tired of this repetitive argument. It happens over and over. I got accepted to Michigan and I got a scholarship for hockey. Their program is notorious for building up their athletes and getting them drafted. Drafted! You’ve known since we were kids that the NHL is what I wanted for myself.” Ethan tried to keep himself composed until he couldn’t. His desire, compassion, and dedication to chasing his dream often overshadowed his love and dedication to you. His childish mannerisms peaking through. “I just want to know where I fit into this plan? This future of yours.” You tried to keep your voice strong and unwavering but just like each time before the lump in your throat prevented you from even being able to breathe properly.

He sat down on the edge of your bed. Quiet minutes passed before he finally spoke again. “Maybe there isn’t an us in the future..” His words are so quiet you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly. “E?” You whimpered. Tears streaming one after the other. He didn’t look at you right away. Knowing if he did his resolve would shatter.

Taking a deep breath, starting over. Looking at you after a couple minutes had passed by and leaning over to wipe your cheeks dry. “I know this is going to be hard to hear. It’s killing me to even say it. It killed me to even think about it recently. I’m going to be gone for a long time for school. I won’t be returning home. My parents will be coming there over the holidays. It will be easier with training. I can’t ask you to sit here while you’re going to school yourself and be tied to me. Especially when we will never see each other. Neither of us have the money for traveling to and from. I’ve been so physically sick thinking about leaving you. We’ve only argued since I decided but honey this is what’s best for me and my dreams. I’m sorry I’m being so selfish but I can’t pass this up. If I stay here I take a chance at never having an opportunity at the NHL at least I know I’ll have an opportunity there.” Your tears stopped at some point. Sadness turned to numbness. Lost to the words he was saying.

“(Y/N/N). I can go and grow up while I’m gone. Get drafted. Or not. Then I’ll come find you if you’re still single. . We can live our dreams then. I just can’t ask you to sit here and be miserably alone.” Pressing a quick kiss to your forehead he left your house. That was the last thing he said to you in person. You didn’t see him again before he left. He tried but you declined. Not wanting to hurt anymore than you already were.

꧁꧂

You just watched Ethan’s NHL debut with the New Jersey Devil two weeks ago. Pride swelled in your heart for him but heartbreak also overtook you. He never came back for you. You’re both 24 now, he could’ve come back after college since he was drafted pre-degree but he never did. Since ‘goodbye for now’ turned into ‘goodbye’ you sat down at your desk and started writing him a letter. You were going to mail it to his mom’s house. She can mail it to him.

Dear Ethan,

I hoped you'd return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned because love is never lost when perspective is earned and you said you would come and get me, but we were only 17. My shelf life on the fantasies has expired. Please forgive me, Ethan, I really tried to hold on to the days you were mine. But the young girl turned into a woman who sits by her window has turned out the light.

You said you were going to grow up and you were going to come find me. Promises that were oceans deep, but never to keep.

Sincerely,

(Y/N)

Little did you know he was back in town at his parents’ house and received the letter himself. He was there to see you. He was back for you now that he was settled and could care for you both properly. But he was too late. You had shut the door on him. You stopped supporting him quietly. Stopped following the scores of the games and watching. . Ethan played the rest of the season terribly, not having his number fan, supporter there. It didn’t matter if he knew or not that she was always cheering him on. It just solidified for him, he no longer had his rock. His reason for being. That he fucked up all those years ago. That he no longer had a reason for what he thought was his dream. His dream was really your dreams. He wanted the future you wanted with him and now he will never have it all because of his selfishness back at 17.

[marie-swriting]

He'll Be Here | In My Life Again - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw [2/2]

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Part one

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : ten years later, Bradley wants to apologize for the way it ended between you and him.

Warnings : set after Top Gun Maverick, Mitchell!reader, angst, happy ending, maybe some grammatical as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.6k

Song inspiration : The Last Time (Feat. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

After spending several hours working on Pete’s P-51 Mustang, this latter and Bradley go to have a drink in Pete’s kitchen. Bradley sits down while Pete opens the fridge and looks for two beers ; Bradley’s eyes find a picture on the wall, he looks at his eighth birthday photo with nostalgia. His cake is in front of him and you by his side. Both of you have a huge smile on your face, ignorant of what the future would hold for you. Bradley’s heart tightens in his chest when Bradley remembers he’ll never have the opportunity of seeing your radiant smile on your face whilst he’s next to you again. 

Pete puts a beer in front of Bradley and snaps him out of his thoughts. He thanks him and takes a sip, his eyes finding their way back to the picture, in spite of him.

“You know,” Bradley starts, catching Pete’s attention, “that day, there was a moment where Y/N wasn’t next to me anymore so I went to look for her. I found her hiding in my closet with tears in her eyes. When I asked her what was the matter, she just told me to not pay attention to her, that I needed to stay with my other friends. I said to her I didn’t care about them, especially because she needed me at that moment. That’s when she confessed she was scared of losing me because I had met friends my age who would replace her. I couldn’t believe she thought that !” he exclaims, his eyes wide open. “In my head, it was obvious she could never be replaced, no matter how close I was to my other friends so I promised her she’d never lose me, that I’ll always be by her side. No matter what. I made her this promise and I’ve been breaking it for ten years now.” Bradley mutters, looking down.

“Have you tried talking to her ?” Pete asks, after a few seconds.

“Yes, several times over the years. The first time was a year after our breakup. I wasn’t far away from her Uni so I went to see her. Long story short, she told me to get lost. The last time was a week ago when she came back. I got the same reaction.”

“I’m sure she just needs a bit of time.” Pete reassures him, putting his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “I never thought you’d talk to me again and look at us ! Things can get better. The bond you two shared was strong.” he affirms.

“I find that hard to believe, she hates me. And don’t even try to tell me otherwise.” Bradley adds, seeing Pete was about to talk. “She hates me and it’s understandable.” he admits, sadly. “She had nothing to do with all of this and yet I hold her accountable just the same. And the worst part is she warned me.” he specifies, taking another sip. “There were numerous times where she told me to get my shit together and stop ruining our relationship because of my anger toward you but I didn’t listen to her. I took her for granted so I kept messing up until she got tired of it and I’ve been paying the price ever since.” Bradley exclaims, bitterly. “You know, I’ve accepted the fact she’d never forgive me, however I’d still like to apologise properly. I just want her to know how much I regret how things ended between us, no matter if she answers me or just insults me. It might be too late but she deserves me to fix my mistakes, no matter if she forgives me.”

“I can talk to her if you want to. I can convince her to listen to you.”

“No, don’t say anything.” Bradley refuses after drinking. “If she listens to me I want it to be because she wants to, not because you asked her to.”

“As you wish.” he concedes with a heavy heart.

The two men stay silent for a moment, enjoying their drink. Bradley is finally able to detach his gaze from the photo, staring into the void.

“You still love her, don’t you ?” Pete asks, bringing Bradley’s eyes on him.

“And I always will. She was my first friend and my first love. She’ll always have a place in my heart even if I don’t have one in hers anymore. I miss her so much, Mav’, if you knew.” Bradley confesses, tearing up.

“She’ll never say it out loud but she misses you too. Bradley, I promise you things will get better between the two of you.”

Bradley takes the last sip of his beer, hoping it’ll help him with his tears and the knot in his throat. At the same time he puts the bottle down, the main door opens. He knows it’s you so he quickly stands up. He doesn’t want to give you another reason to hate him therefore he tries not to run into you, though his heart only wants that. You walk in the kitchen, talking about your afternoon with Penny and Amelia to your father until you find Bradley. Instantly, you tense up and glare at your former best friend. Bradley bids goodbye to you and Pete before leaving. Pete rolls his eyes at your attitude.

“What ? I didn’t tell him anything.” you defend yourself, searching for something in the fridge.

“You might as well have.”

“Look, it’s not because you forgave him that I have to be nice to him.” you retort, closing the fridge without finding anything interesting. “Unlike you, I haven’t forgotten the way he treated us, the way he cut us out of his life.”

“I haven’t forgotten either.”

“Really ? Because it sure seems like it. It seems you’ve forgotten the pain he caused us, caused me, all the nights I spent crying because of him, all the nights where you had to hold me in your arms while I was sobbing.”

“I remember very well.” Pete admits, trying to stay calm, “But Y/N, he’s changed, okay ? Besides, he was grieving, he was hurt, angry and young-”

“Young ?” you cut him, furious. “He was twenty-five ! He was a grown ass adult, he knew very well what he was doing.”

“Okay, he has his faults as well, but he really feels bad about the way he treated you. You could at least listen to him.” he suggests and you roll your eyes.

“And did he listen to you when you tried to explain yourself ? He sent you packing. I don’t get why I should be the one making an effort. And as my father, shouldn’t you be telling me to stay away from him ?”

“Not when I know what you mean to each other.”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me. And for a long time now.” you state.

“It’s not true and you know it.”

“I don’t understand why you insist so much.”

“I’m responsible for your fallout.”

“He messed up himself.” you correct, tearing up. “He’s the one who let his anger destroy what we had. He’s the one who distanced himself from me. He ruined everything himself.”

“It’s true, nonetheless you can’t deny if I hadn’t pulled his papers, you’d still be together. Hell, you’d probably even be married with a kid now !”

“Wow, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” you say, shocked. “If he hadn’t fucked up, we’d probably still be together, yeah but the fact is you’re not responsible for it. Look, I’m glad you two put your differences aside, it just won’t be the case for me. Anyway, we should stop here.” you order, crossing your arms on your chest. “I don’t want to argue with you, I only have two weeks left with you before I go home.”

“You can be stubborn at times !” he sighs.

“I got that from my dad.” you smile at him.

“Sometimes,  I wish you hadn’t.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little before starting to leave the room.

“He came back for me.” Pete confesses, stopping you in your tracks.

“What are you talking about ?”

“During my last mission.”

“I thought it was Hangman.” you say, frowning. 

“Hangman came to save us when we were on our way home. Bradley had strict orders to leave me behind when I sacrificed myself for him. But he came back. He didn’t listen and he came back. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have been able to leave the enemy territory.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before ?” you ask softly.

“Bradley told me not to. He didn’t want you to think he did that out of interest.”

You stay silent for a few moments, taking in this new piece of information. You can’t help but feel grateful for Bradley, though your anger is still there.

“It’s good to know that, at least, in the air, he has your back.” you state, leaving.

Pete sighs, seeing you walk away. He knows he promised Bradley to not get in the middle of this - even Penny told him to stay out of it, yet he can’t help it. You and Bradley were childhood best friends. He never would have imagined you’d stop talking to each other, in particular because of him. That’s why he can’t stay silent. He might have been the cause of your conflit but he wants to be the reason for your reconciliation. Furthermore, he knows he can reason you and with this last information, he was hoping it’d make you change your mind. Pete can’t help but feel a heartache, understanding it’s not the case.

However, what Pete doesn’t know is that your conversation has affected you. That night, you can’t seem to fall asleep. Your father’s words and your story with Bradley are echoing in your head. You keep tossing and turning in your bed, desperately hoping to put your brain on hold.

Once you can’t take it anymore, you turn on your bedside lamp and stand up. You walk to your closet and open it. You take a deep breath before pushing some clothes to the side in the corner of your closet until you find a box, you haven’t opened it for years. When you had started to grieve your romance with Bradley, you had put every picture, letter and object reminding you of him in that box. You were still too attached to him to throw everything away but too hurt to keep everything next to you.

The box in your hand, you sit down and open it. Tears make their way to your eyes in an instant as soon as you find your prom photo - if your heart wasn’t hurting that much, you’d laugh at your dress. In the picture, you’re looking at each other lovingly. You wish you could go back to this moment where everything was easier.  You put the picture next to you and keep finding others from birthday parties, outings, travels you did at different ages. You hold back your tears until you read the letter he wrote for your eighteenth birthday. At that moment, it becomes too much so you quickly put everything back at its place and go back to bed.

Of course, you’re still hurting from your breakup. Bradley was the most important person to you though you can’t forget the way it ended. With what your father told you, Bradley seems to be the Bradley you used to love once more but you can’t risk another heartbreak. 

For the first time in ten years, your heart seems torn between staying mad at Bradley or hearing him out. You try to reason yourself, remembering why you’re angry at him in the first place, though it’s complicated now.

Sitting at the restaurant near Top Gun, you finish telling your order to the waiter. Once he leaves, you grab your phone and send a text to your father to inform him you’ve already ordered. You’re supposed to eat with Pete who is more than thirty minutes late and quite frankly, you’re starving. You don’t worry when you get no response, knowing he probably hasn’t finished working yet. 

While waiting for your food, you keep checking your phone until the hostess comes to you. Expecting to see your dad, you put your phone down, smiling. Your smile disappears as soon as you see Bradley. The woman wishes you a nice meal before leaving you two alone. Bradley is uncomfortable because of the look you’re giving.

“What are you doing here ?” you question, drily.

“Huh, I’m supposed to eat with Mav’.”

“No, I am supposed to eat with him and…”, you start before understanding the conversation, “I can’t believe he did that.” you sigh, making Bradley frown. “He’s set it up to be sure we’d see each other. Look, I’ve already ordered and I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time left before you have to get back to work so we can eat together.”

“You don't mind ?”

“It’s just for a meal.” you say as he sits down. “I see you’re still punctual.” you comment, sarcastically, Bradley looks at you confused. “I was supposed to meet my dad at noon. You’re thirty minutes late.” you inform, checking your notifications on your phone.

“He told me he reserved for half past twelve.”

“He really thought about everything.”

The waiter gives you your meal then, he takes Bradley’s order before going back to the kitchen.

You start eating silently. Bradley doesn’t stop moving on his seat, not knowing how to act around you. You don’t like the palpable tension either, you’re in the same situation as him. Before, your conversations didn’t have an end, a subject would always appear naturally. Now, you think twice before speaking, not wanting to create an awkward moment.

You stay in this heavy silence until the waiter gives Bradley his plate. Bradley sighs in relief, finally having something to do instead of being uncomfortable. When you’re done eating, you take a sip of your glass of water before talking.

“My father told me what you did for him on your last mission. Thank you for coming back for him.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I could have never left Mav’ behind.” Bradley genuinely states.

You smile at him quickly and Bradley takes this start of conversation as a small victory. He’s grateful for Pete’s help, even if he didn’t listen to him. Bradley tells himself that this moment is his only chance to fix his wrongs with you so he finishes eating the piece of meat he has in his mouth and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“Y/N, can I talk to you ? You don’t have to say anything. I’d be happy if you only listened to me.”

“Go ahead.”

Bradley take a deep breath before looking deeply in your eyes and starting to speak : 

“Look, I know I messed up with you. I’ll forever feel bad for the way we broke up. I should have come at your birthday and-”

“Are you seriously talking about that ?” you question, in disbelief. “Bradley, it’s not the thing-”

“I know I did worse.” he interrupts you, knowing what you were going to say. “I know your birthday isn’t what hurt you the most, the fact is, it was your breaking point. Had I come, we might have found a solution, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. I’m sorry for that night, I know I hurt you by not coming. I also know I broke your heart by ignoring you and your dad after we broke up or with what I said. I know it’s not an excuse but I was in this awful period of my life and I had to exteriorize what I was feeling and when Pete pulled my paper, it was on him then on you. I never should have lashed out on you because our relationship got damaged and that affacted our friendship, too, and for this, I’d forever be mad at myself. I should have prioritised you. I hate knowing I made you cry. I never would have thought I’d be the cause of your pain. I’m sincerely sorry for everything, above all I’m sorry for breaking my promise. If I could, I’d go back in time, I’d do everything to not lose you, to not break my promise. And maybe I’m pushing my luck right now but you’ve listened to me this far so I might as well say it ;  if you agreed to give me another chance, I’d love to be a part of your life again. You still mean a lot to me.”

Bradley finally breathes once he’s done talking. He’s sick in his stomach, fearing your reaction. Before, he could predict what you were gonna say or do with just one look. He doesn’t like the way you’ve become strangers. You need a few seconds to take in what he told you before replying.

“Thank you for everything you said. I appreciate your apologies but I need time.” you confess before looking at the time on your phone. “I have to go. I’m gonna pay.”

“I can totally-”

“I insist. Take this as a thank you for my father. Goodbye Bradley.”

Contrary to ten years ago, your goodbye is full of nostalgia and not of bitterness. Bradley stays static for a few moments, eyes on the restaurant’s door you’ve just walked through. Sure, nothing is done yet. You didn’t say you wanted him in your life again however you listened to him and that’s all that matters. He can only hope this victory is big enough to bring you back to him.

The next few days and nights, you’re lost in your thoughts which have Bradley as a main character. You think back to his words and specifically of the way you two used to be before everything bad happened. You were fine, close and in love. The months after your breakup, you wanted to have this once more, before your hurt turned into anger. If Bradley had tried apologising at that moment and not a year later, you would have forgiven him in a heartbeat. 

Now, you’re hesitating. You’re scared there’s going to be another conflict and Bradley decides to cut you out of his life once more. You wouldn’t handle it if it were to happen. Though, you wish to have Bradley in your life one more time. 

While you’re thinking, you see Bradley occasionally as he comes to your place. You don’t talk but you observe him and a part of you wants to have him close. Pete keeps speaking up for Bradley, more or less discreetly. All of this is making you change your mind and breaking the walls you had built around your heart.

After another night of staying awake, you tell yourself it’s time to speak with Bradley. You can’t stay like this anymore. Therefore, when the sun is up, you muster up your courage and call Bradley. You tell him to meet you at your place at a certain hour at the end of the afternoon, knowing Pete will be with Penny so you’ll be alone.

Your anxiety at its highest, you’re sitting on your couch and playing with a loose strand of a pillow. Despite the TV on, your eyes go from the door then to the time on your phone. There’s a knot in your stomach as you have a feeling of déjà vu.

You feel like you’re twenty-three once again, in your old house with your party dress and your red lipstick, waiting desperately for Bradley, only this time, he arrives on time, like he promised. Indeed, five minutes later, you hear a car parking in your driveway before someone knocks on your door. With one movement, you stand up after turning off the TV then, you open the door, finding Bradley, putting his Hawaiian shirt back in place. You let him in and you go to your living room.

When you’re sitting next to each other, your stress grows stronger. Was this a good idea ? What if now it was too late for him ? What if he got tired of waiting for so long ? As for Bradley, his mind is not at ease either : ‘maybe she just wants to tell me face to face she doesn’t want to see me anymore ? Or maybe in addition to her life, she doesn’t want me in Mav’s life either ?’. Finally, you’re the one cutting the tension.

“I’ve been thinking,” you begin, avoiding his gaze, “about what you told me and about us.” you state, setting your eyes on him. “Although I appreciate your apology, a part of me can’t help but think back to all the times where you apologised just to hurt me every chance you got.” you keep saying and Bradley’s heart tightens in his chest. “Though, I want to believe this time will be different. After all, if it worked out between you and my dad, why not us ? I want to forgive you, have you in my life again, however it’s the last time I forgive you, I won’t have the strength to do this one more time. I don’t know if we’ll ever have what we used to have and maybe our friendship will never be as strong as it used to be but I miss you so much. I miss my best friend.” you confess, tears in your eyes.

“I miss you so much, too, Y/N.”

“If it’s not too late for you, I still want you in my life as well.” you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“You’ve always been the one I want, it’s never been too late for me.” Bradley affirms with a determined voice, putting his hand on your cheek. “I promise you it’s the last time, I won’t hurt you anymore and you will not lose me either and I will really keep these promises.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself in Bradley’s arms and hold against you the person you missed the most the past ten years.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Part one

[elisela]

happy un-iversary nurseydex au, fluff, established relationship. for @missanniewhimsy

Will is not the flowers, chocolate, and wine celebration person. His eighth grade girlfriend had broken up with him tearfully after he laughed when she wished him a happy one month anniversary, his first boyfriend hadn’t even made it to a year. He thinks he got concert tickets that year for Jason’s birthday but his memory is fuzzy; whatever it was, it wasn’t something he had put a lot of thought into. That’s not to say he’s not sentimental in other ways—he still carries the torn piece of paper with Chowder’s barely legible IOU HALF OF ONE MEDIUM PIZZA AND 2 CHEAP BEERS JESUS FUCKING CHRIST YOU PETTY LOSER scrawled on it from their first month of college just because it makes him smile, snaps photos of flowers growing through concrete cracks to text because Jack once told him—while drunk off his ass—that he thought they were all beautiful. 

Unfortunately, Derek is the flowers, chocolate, and wine person. On Will’s last birthday he came home to take-out—only plated nicely, two tall candles burning in the middle of the table, soft music playing in the background. The only wine Will has ever enjoyed was chilling in an ice bucket that he hadn’t even known they owned, the fancy extra-dark chocolates he didn’t like but had once complimented Bitty on sitting in a wrapped box on the island.

So it should say something that Will is standing in the floral section of the grocery store an hour before they close, trying his best to pick out a bouquet that says happy anniversary and these are not last minute flowers. 

They’re all a little wilted, so it’s not exactly working.

Will’s hoping it’s the thought that counts.

But Derek frowns when he walks in their door, his gaze darting from the flowers to the caramels from the confectionary in Old Town that Will’s seen him demolish a dozen of in the space of two minutes. “Uh,” he says, brow furrowing. “What’d you do?”

Of the two of them, Will would have bet money that he’d be the first to forget an important date. “Nothing,” he says, a flare of defensiveness coming before he takes a breath and tries again. “Happy anniversary.”

It’s funny, the way panic flashes across Derek’s face before it settles back into faint confusion. “Our anniversary is next month.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Will. Our anniversary is May 8th.”

“It’s April 6th,” Will says, flowers now pointing towards the ground as he gestures pointlessly with his arm. “How could you think it was May 8th?”

“How could you think it was April 6th?” Derek asks, and he takes the flowers right out of Will’s hand as Will stares at him.

“Because that was the Rocket’s home opener,” Will says, also handing over the caramels. He had to go forty minutes out of his way for those and a small part of him wants a tiny bit of praise for it. 

Derek mouths at him wordlessly for a moment. It would make a hilarious picture, the way he stands there cradling the flowers and candy gently while looking dumbfounded, if Will weren’t so bemused about the whole thing. “We—the—what—that wasn’t our first date! We weren’t dating!”

“We weren’t until we went to the game together,” Will responds.

“We went to the game together because you thought it’d be a good idea to get season tickets!” Derek shoots back. “Our first date was at the Mexican restaurant and you changed the five to an eight on the inflatable Cinco de Mayo sombrero and made me wear it all night.”

Will stares at him. “We’d already been dating for weeks. I asked you out weeks before that.”

Derek’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “I asked you out.”

Because Will can’t strangle his boyfriend—of exactly one year, thank you very much—he kisses him instead, curling his hands into Derek’s hips and pulling him close, curling awkwardly around the flowers he’s still holding. “Happy,” he says pointedly, “anniversary.”

Derek kisses him back, soft and sweet and a little self-satisfied. “Thanks for the flowers,” he says, and Will can feel him smirk. "Happy un-iversary.”

[shitouttabuck]

several sentence sunday

tagged by @transboybuckley who’s working today everyone send them good calm minimal-emergency first responder holiday vibes mwah

happy christmas eve this is christmas fic that is so definitely going to be a couple days late at Least so please hold on to some festive spirit and read it when it’s up okay please please please

“Ten days is forever, Eddie,” Buck says, voice so forlorn it’s almost comical. “I don’t wanna not see you or Chris for ten days.” “So don’t,” Eddie tells him, bringing his other hand up so he’s cupping Buck’s face between them. “I’ll tell you what I want then. And I’ll be selfish with it. I don’t want to put you in a situation you don’t wanna be in, especially with my parents, but I want to bring you home. I wanna show you where I grew up. I wanna kiss you in my childhood bedroom and make you feel weird about feeling me up under my eighth grade graduation picture. I wanna fight my sisters when they try and show you photos from that year I was really into Nickelback. I wanna wake up next to you on Christmas morning, and spend Christmas day with you and our kid, and I want it so badly, Buck.” Buck’s looking at him with nothing short of stars in his eyes, and Eddie takes a second to marvel at how despite the nature of their relationship changing, Buck’s never really looked at whatever Eddie’s offered him with anything less than this boundless devotion. It’s a lot, but it’s Eddie’s to keep, and he’d have to be—he’d say six feet under, but he’s been forty feet under and still, still that didn’t stop him from reaching for Buck’s love. Death’s got nothing on the span of it.

the usual suspects love u all dearly happy holidays here is a tag if you need something to do away from family or are bored or are not celebrating or want to give ME a christmas present in the form of a wip snippet or a million other reasons @onward--upward @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @rewritetheending @jeeyuns @try-set-me-on-fire @chronicowboy @zahlibeth @eowon @anakinfallen @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @devirnis @buckactuallys @clusterbuck <333

[blond3ang3l]

୭🧷✧ Rnb singer x Laxus ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Headcannon xxxx Laxus is a Dominican man in my heart

Everyone knew that the fairytail guild had amazing entertainment. They had the beautiful Mirajane who always had the most beautiful performances. A famous model, wonderful singer, and amazing wizard she was the most loved. That was of course, right next to you. You were just as famous as the beautiful Mira. She had found you performing at bars and brought you to the guild. You drew attention for your looks. But more importantly your voice. The way you could change it from honey smooth to raspy at will when your were singing. They loved it and it brought you fame relatively quickly. You and Mira performed many songs together. That allowed you to build fame outside of the guild.

You were the new thing in town. The new thing that the guild got to brag about. Gildarts and Romeo were especially bad with this. The two show offs loved to talk about how they had not only Mirajane but you as well. Your looks allowed you to get modeling gigs relatively quickly. The different clothing showing off your curvy body. Your chubby stomach on display without a care in the world. Your showed off your stretch marks in every photo shoot. It drew Laxus in, seeing someone be so real with themselves. He was attracted to you for sure, but he was especially attracted to your confidence. Something about it rewired his brain. He was a cocky dick for sure, having someone match that drew him to you.

Tonight was a special performance for the guild. They had one the guild Olympics so you were performing all night for them. Laxus watched you with great intent in his eyes. No matter how many times he’s seen you he always sized you up. Staring at you while you performed one of your many hits on stage. The way the light bounced off of your skin, the gold jewelry you wore decorating you beautifully. He was taking in very little detail including the dimples that indented your skin. This went on for hours until the guild decided to bar hop and get drunk. As everyone was exiting you lead Romeo and the others kids home. You were about to head back to your place until a deep voice rang out.

“You coming with?”

You were surprised to hear the voice behind you since you thought everyone had already went out. Once you turned around to see it was just Laxus you calmed down.

“Not really feeling it. You know I don’t drink much, Cana’s gonna try to get me blacked out drunk. Plus everyone’s gonna be all couples up. Mira and freed, Julia and gray, Lucy and Natsu, Levy and Gajeel, imma be like eighth wheeling.”

Laxus felt a deep chuckle come from his chest as he looked at you once more taking in your looks. Your plump lips always caught his eyes. He also loved the way you expressed yourself in your appearance. The little rhinestones you glued on your face as piercings so you could always change it up. The different colors you dyed your hair to keep up with your ever changing style. You were expensive and he loved every bit about that.

“So what? You just gonna walk home by yourself and not do shit all night?”

“Damn nigga, you ain’t have to say it like that. But yeah, I guess so.i mean I’d actually like *like* to wake up and remember what I did the night before. I don’t need everyone rubbing there lovey doveyness and shit in my face.”

“Just come back to my place then.”

“…Laxus we are not fucking.”

Laxus looked at you in bewilderment. That hadn’t even come across his mind. Like yeah you’re definitely fine as shit but he felt like he needed to get to know you more before just sticking his dick in you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What does it sound like? Inviting me over to your place? Get real nigga, I’m not one of your little fangirls that’s just gonna throw ass to you just cause you’re fine and shit.”

You weren’t an idiot, you were famous and many men and women tried to use that fact to get with you. Trying to get you into their bed using their own face against you. And Laxus by no means was unknown. One of the guilds (if not the most) sought after man. His built physique, blonde curls he always had pushed out of his face to show off the scar on his eye, and especially the grill that covered his bottom row. The girls and gays loved him. He was a show off, he knew he was loved and grew his ego. So when you two et you thought that you’d clash heads but surprisingly not. You both talked about music a lot and he has always been supportive of you and your career. You didn’t want to fuck that up by sleeping with him.

“Man I wasn’t even talking about all that. We’re just gonna chill. You’ve been bugging me about watching that damn Ultraman Rising movie or whatever’s it’s called, we can go do that. Don’t act like I’m someone new, I’m not here for all that.”

“Oh..my bad you right. I guess we can head back to your place.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you began walking back to his place. The smell of vanilla caught his nose and he looked around only to figure out the sweet smell was actually just you. Oh yeah, he was gonna make sure you were going to be his…

___________________________________________________________________

RAHHHHH I LOVE HIM SM HE SO SEXY

[seishirokitten]

He fucks for pleasure yes, everyone does, but Kunigami craves more than that. Needs more than that. He needs the intimacy, the soft touches, the breakfast the morning after, the late night calls on his away games where neither of you want to hang up so you fall asleep on the line. But his schedule didn't have time for a crush, let alone a girlfriend.

As they say drunk actions are sober thoughts and when Kunigami sends a Twitter dm after a long night out it makes dread sit in his stomach. His life was about to change he just didn't know if it was for better or worse.

Warnings: Dirty talk, praise and degrading, nsfw, dub con pro player Kunigami 26, wc 4k

"One more shot! One more shot! ♡" Bachira chants, bringing over the eighth round of the night. Barely finding room on the table littered with empty beer pitchers and low ball glasses.

"I don't know Meguruuuuu." Isagi slurs his concern despite how he reaches out for the small shot glass, "We've still got practice tomorrow."

"But we won! We're headed to the championships!" Voice brimming with cheer before he downs his shot with ease. No chaser or shudder for that matter. Honey eyes darkening dangerously, as if he was up to no good.

"We can afford to have a little fun." Bachira hums, taking Isagi's full shot from his hands after Yoichi gagged before even bringing it to his lips. Meguru swallows it down with ease.

"Oi! Oi! Your kinda fun always gets us in trouble!" Raichi barks, vein throbbing in his forehead. Still thick fingers grab his shot glass and downs it. The heat blooms in his chest and radiates out to his ribs before a tremor runs down his muscular back.

"Not true ♡!"

"Very true. Don't you remember last time? You almost got Chigiri-hime arrested." Kunigami comments, taking his shot quickly before taking a sip of his heavy handed drink. Kunigami could handle his alcohol, surely better than everyone at this table including the wild hornet with honeyed eyes. If you asked him he wouldn't say that he was drunk, just tipsy.

But that would be a lie.

Especially as his phone pings in his pocket. Large hands quick to find the lit glass winking with a notification banner for Twitter. His heart races as he opens it quickly, what were you doing up so late?

His auburn eyes glued to the screen. A picture of you in an oversized tee. It barely covered your thighs as you pulled it down cutely, making the fabric hug right to your breasts, little caption underneath "Can't sleep."

All he can imagine is that it's his tee and that this was a picture sent just to him and not for your fifty thousand followers to see.

Even pros had crushes and he had found you wholly by accident. Someone had liked one of your photos and he scrolled your page endlessly once he found you. Following and quick to turn notifications on. He never approached because reaching out over DMS, to Kunigami, was improper.

Cheesy and cheap.

The liquor warming his toned stomach would say otherwise. Controlling his fingers it seems as he hits the dm button all because of the next picture you posted. You lying down on your side on your soft bed, the shirt had ridden up just a bit. In the background he could see your closet and the large golden frame mirror that leaned against the wall.

He isn't sure if you've positioned your camera like this on purpose but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thankful. Your ass can be seen in the mirror just before the photo cuts off your legs, lace stretched over your plush cheeks and just barely your rabbit vibrator can be seen.

He slaps down cash onto the table and hardly says his goodbyes. Nose buried into his phone as he caught the train headed home.

His auburn eyes darken, the monster he normally let out on the field could more easily control Kunigami's limbs thanks to the liquid courage coursing in his veins. Thumbs flying across the screen as the warm glass without thought.

Typing out a long paragraph before hitting send. He doesn't even bother to reread it or check for errors. Instead he goes right back to that photo of you, the second one.

His drunk mind fueling his fantasy that you sent it just for him, only for him. You in one of his oversized black tees. Being flirty as you try to combat your insomnia. He lies down on his platform bed and zooms in on your ass.

His cock aches in his pants and he doesn't deny himself his desires. At least not tonight. Wrangling off his boxers as his hard cock springs free. Tip weeping and an angry shade before his large hand grips his girthy length. Swiping his thumb to help spread the pre before he roughly strokes himself. The wet sound of his arousal filling the small space of his bedroom, the warm and quick puffs of his breath make the room humid and he even lets out a few low groans.

He thinks about you using that pink vibrator he saw in the background. Thanks about you shoving it into your tight cunt and swallows thickly when he thinks about how it doesn't even compare to the size of his cock. How you'll get tears in your eyes from slamming the toy into yourself. How it doesn't compare to him and how he fucks you. How he holds you as he pounds into your tight heat. Making you cream his cock over and over and then he bet you'd have no trouble sleeping.

He's close, his heavy sac tightens and his cock twitches in his hand, he zooms out before zooming in on your pretty face. Seeing you like that, with a bit of a sleepy, needy look drives him mad. Makes him dig his heels into the mattress and thrusts up into his hand as he groans loudly painting his stomach with white hot ropes of his seed. The sound of a camera snaps and a message sent before his eyes become too heavy to keep open.

Body so relaxed and loose for once he doesn't even bother with a shower or putting his phone on the charger. Instead he falls asleep with his phone in his free hand.

A sharp sound blares in the bedroom, the sun bleeding in through his curtains as Kunigami's head throbs. He swallows thickly, his throat dry and his stomach twisted from having drank without eating.

Growling when he realizes what he did just before passing out, grimace pulling at his mouth as he realizes he slept through his first alarm giving him even less time to train before the usual practice today.

His phone at five percent and he shoves the charger in before he thinks about a shower but when the screen lights up the night comes back to him a bit more clear.

"Shit." He grumbles as he unlocks his phone, hoping he didn't do anything too stupid like heart your picture or worse yet retweet it. Shido had already gotten in trouble with PR for endlessly retweeting videos of his favorite only fans stars and the last thing Kunigami wanted was to ruin his reputation.

When he unlocks his phone a long walk of text stares back at him.

Pretty girl, did you tweet this out just for me? Or did you want everyone to know you play with that sloppy pussy like an unsatisfied slut when you can't sleep? Let Rensuke help you babygirl, let me take care of you. You're going to take that toy that you so badly wanted me to see and circle your tight hole for me. With how wet you are the tip is bound to slip but don't shove it in yet. I know you're desperate to be fucked but we've got to take our time. We've got to do it properly, so you can dream sweet dreams, pretty girl. You're going to do that until you're fisting the sheets, until you're begging me that you want it and then, slowly, you ease it in. Inch by inch until those rabbit ears are tickling your clit. I want you to turn it all the way up and let it sit there. Let your cunt get used to the size of the toy before you search for that sweet spot in your cunt. I want you to think about how full you feel right now. I want you to know that it's nothing to the stretch I'm going to give you when I split you on my cock. When I pull your hips closer to mine and look at that pretty ass, those lace underwear pulled to the side. You'll let me put my thumb to your asshole won't you? You'll be my good girl and let me spit onto it and slip it in? I know you will slut because you like to feel full. Do you have a plug, princess? You should put it in if you do and anytime you go out and think you'll see me. I don't want to have to hurt you when I shove it in. Now be a good girl and fuck yourself until you cum. No less than three times, then you'll be able to sleep nice and deep. Dream about me holding you tight, your cute nose to my chest.

Kunigami's stomach drops when he reads it, the filth he's spewed and to such a beautiful and nice woman. A woman he didn't even know and he lets himself fall to sit onto the edge of his bed when he sees the picture.

His abs and chest covered in his own cum, thankfully his face isn't in it but it didn't excuse the fact that now Kunigami was going to be a pervert instead of a hero. The message with it just as gross You've made such a mess.

He thinks he can delete the dm in time before you see it until he notices four letters under the message bubble that make his blood run cold.

R e a d

"Shit." He grips the nape of his neck, fingers grazing over the undercut before he rises. Not much can be done now so he gets ready for his day. Luke warm shower so it doesn't damage his skin or hair, a quick breakfast of a protein shake and his specially made coffee at the shop that was just across the street from his apartment.

The street is busy for the middle of the week, or maybe it's always been like this and Kunigami usually beats the foot traffic with how early he normally rises. A three hour delay in his schedule puts him in a bit of a sour mood and paired with the idea of ruining any chance in hell with his crush, despite knowing he was never going to reach out, didn't help matters.

He holds open the door for a few people before he slides in himself. Letting the freshly ground coffee overtake his senses as he waits in the short line. Grabbing his order from the far counter and when he turns, phone in hand to reply to Isagi saying he overslept, he bumps into a shorter woman.

"Oh doll, I'm very sorry. I-" He stops in his tracks, your purse in his hands and he looks into the woman's eyes.

Into your eyes.

Immediately his fair skin breaks out into a blush, deepinging in color from his throat as the blood rushes to his face. Your own cheeks heat as he passes you back your purse almost meekly. Your mind taking you back to last night.

To that message and how wet it had made you. How you're reminded of the princess plug in your ass when your cunt contracts at the sight of him up close. And how you start to soak your panties now.

You honestly hadn't meant for people to see your toy, your ass yes but your vibrator had been forgotten since it wasn't much use in helping you fall asleep.

At least it wasn't until you got those very clear instructions. You swallow thickly and murmur a soft it's okay before grabbing your purse and rushing for the door.

Your name shouted by the barista as you abandon your six dollar coffee in exchange for fresh air.

Kunigami Rensuke was so much hotter in person, he had been your soccer crush since he first started and now that he was a pro you figured he was well out of your league. That didn't stop you from buying his jerseys or even finding out what brand of shirt or the size so you could wear it to bed. You thought you knew everything there was to know about Rensuke but there was one thing you didn't know until today.

Kunigami Rensuke was right to tell you that the feeling of fullness wouldn't compare to him, especially not after seeing the subtle outline of him in his dark gray joggers.

But in your haste you've left Kunigami to stand in the middle of the coffee shop feeling as if he needed another shower from being such a nasty man.

Weeks had passed since Kunigami had drunk messaged you. The only bright side to the whole situation was the fact that you hadn't screenshot it or made some TikTok with a green screen and laughing about how desperate the soccer player was for pussy.

Not that he was, he hardly thought about it, not from lack of interest but mostly from lack of time. He's had a few one night stands here and there but he doesn't fuck just to fuck.

He fucks for pleasure yes, everyone does, but Kunigami craves more than that. Needs more than that. He needs the intimacy, the soft touches, the breakfast the morning after, the late night calls on his away games where neither of you want to hang up so you fall asleep on the line.

But his schedule didn't have time for a girlfriend. It was packed with training, running, and more games than he could count.

Especially now since they were in the last match of the extended season for the championships. The game was hosted at his home arena, the Tokyo stadium. Since it was the only pitch with seats big enough to hold the expected crowd thanks to the world cup qualifiers that were right around the corner.

He brings the towel over his face in frustration, the first half of the game did not go as planned. Everyone buzzing with a mix of agitation and aggression at one another while they collect themselves during half time.

People stretch and drink, getting in a decent head space to discuss the next plan and some even use the time to check their phones even though most of their feed would be filled with the dreadful reminder that they were in a 0-2 game. Kunigami kept his phone off during matches, it was distracting and the last thing he needed was some asshole on the sidelines tweeting at him to tell him how to play.

"Kunigami, you like that one girl on Twitter don't you?" Bachira smiles devilishly.

"What are you talking about?" Kunigami hisses as he tosses his dirty towel into the open niche. He hadn't ever mentioned you to anybody.

"Please, you hardly ever get notifications and when you do it's literally just this girls Twitter handle." Meguru turns his phone where Rensuke can see.

Auburn eyes going over the screen. You're in a jersey, the emblem obviously their team. It's the third kit with the special designs and before Rensuke can retort Bachira swipes the screen. You've got your back to the camera how, number bright and bold on your back as your matching nails point out to the name on the jersey.

K U N I G A M I

His heart starts to race in his chest, cock twitching as he realizes how much he likes to see his name on your back. How quickly he imagines you bent over clad in nothing but his jersey.

He swallows thickly as he reads the caption "You can do it, Rensuke! You're my hero!"

Fuck now he has to win. He can't disappoint his girl now can he?

No, he could never disappoint you. Bachira's smile goes wild as he watches Kunigami's monster come to life before him.

Within the first few seconds of the second half Kunigami scores a goal. Launching it right from the halfway point and the goalies fingers barely graze the ball.

A second time when he shoulders and bullies the ball away from an opposing striker, passing it to Bachira who takes it up the right wing. Keeping pace with him as Isagi brings up the rear. Bachira passes backward when the pressure is too much Isagi feints a shot before passing it straight to Kunigami who snuck his way past the defense line and sinks the goal into the upper right corner.

Kunigami brings his hand to cup behind his ear and instantly the crowd chants.

"HERO! HERO! HERO!" His rich amber eyes scanning the crowd behind the opposing goal and when he sees you jumping and screaming he becomes that much more determined to win this tied game.

Kunigami barely avoids yellow cards and heads balls out of bounds for corners and when he's standing in the wall for free kicks.

Shoving past players with ease as he starts to get to his sweet spot on the pitch, less than a minute left of stoppage time. The referee bringing the whistle to his lips to ready the signal of the end of the game before Kunigami slams the ball into the goal. Sending it with enough force that it knocks the goalie into the net earning Rensuke his hat trick and the team their win.

He points to you keeping eye contact before he comes up to the wall. Moving security out of the way and motioning you to him with his finger. Once you're at the edge he lifts you up and takes you from the screaming and jeering crowd. Carrying you princess style through a tunnel to head towards the under belly of the stadium uncaring that the entire world could probably see.

He finds the closest bathroom, flicking the deadbolt to locked before his tongue is in your mouth. Teeth gnashing and competing with the adrenaline in his blood. The high of his win was good and was going to help him fuck you throughly, like you deserve. Pressing you against the cold sink.

He pulls away just long enough to strip you of your jersey before he's shoving his over your head, he could paw at your tits later for now he needed to see his damp jersey swallow your frame. The one you had was cute, form fitting and stretched over your tits but his.

God it made his throat dry, you looked so fucking pretty, in his jersey that was almost past the length of your skirt. Quick to flip the fabric up and hide it under his jersey before he openly groans when he sees those lace underwear and something bright pink winking at him. In his haste his fingers pull too harshly at the delicate fabric and it tears in his grasp.

"Kunigami!"

"Rensuke." He corrects, slapping your ass hard enough it leaves a welt that he tenderly leans over to kiss, "I'll get you new ones, princess. I'll take care of you."

Pressing his thumb to the bright jewel plug that he pulls apart your cheeks to see better.

"So you did want to see me again?" He slowly pulls and pushes at the toy, "Huh wanted me to use you as I saw fit?"

You give a shy nod in the mirror and he growls with delight, quick to yank his shorts and boxers down just enough for them to sit under the swell of his ass. Taking his lengthy girth and gliding himself through your slick folds. He grunts, satisfied with how sticky you were for him.

"Me scoring goals makes you wet, princess?" He asks, circling your entrance with his fat tip. Sure to press it against your puffy clit just to watch you jolt. Over and over until tears are quick to come to your eyes and you look at him in the mirror. The whole time he's been looking at you, watching your face make such cute expressions and the pretty moans that escape your throat make him that much more under your spell. Your eyes following the plans of his chest and abs that still has sweat from the game following the harsh lines of his body.

"Please, please Rensuke, please stretch me." You buck against him, hoping to force him in but he chuckles.

"So impatient." He sighs, leaning over and kissing your shoulder, the tip just sitting at your fluttering entrance, "I'm just taking care of you."

Sweat from his hair drips onto your shoulders as his free hand comes to rest at the small of your back to get a nice arch. Splayed wide and made you feel so small before he slowly sinks it in. His eyes now glued onto his jersey. On his name across your shaking shoulders as you're already struggling to take him. The stretch is a pleasant burn and he pushes you into a better arch.

"You're taking me so well. Such a good girl." He praises, staying still to let you adjust. For your fluttering cunt to feel just how full he made you.

Starting with a slow cant of his hips before his pace increases each time his eyes flicker to his name. Now fisting at the jersey and bruising grip at your hip and he thrusts into you harshly.

Hard enough you struggle to keep your forehead from bashing into the mirror, as you watch his brows furrow up, feel his cock jump in your cunt and you squeeze harder. Hoping you'll make a mess and he'll paint your cunt a pretty shade white.

Kunigami groans as he watches himself disappear into your impossibly tight cunt, sucking him back in and each time he pulls away the creamy ring at the base of his cock gets wider. Grabbing onto your shoulder so he can sink himself deeper as the coil in your stomach grows. Your moans echoing off the walls of the bathroom mixing with the slick sound of your sloppy pussy.

He hits that spongy spot just right and suddenly you see stars, knees giving away under the weight of his thrusts as you cum on his cock. Wetting his balls with your dripping arousal as they slap against your sensitive clit making you cum again. Your clenching causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head, bringing his hand to your throat so he can gently tilt your chin to face him.

His auburn eyes soften as he gazes at your face, his favorite part about you. Your lips, your cute nose and your eyes, god your eyes pulled him in like a siren at sea.

Making his hips move erratically when you don't break eye contact. When you fight to keep it in the mirror before he groans loudly, fucking you through another oragsm and now his own as hot spurts fill you. Whining even when he accidently overstimulates himself as he can't stop from pushing himself into you before he finally stills.

Panting but leaning forward to turn your face to him, kissing you with a fervor unmatched while your head spins with emotion and pleasure. He waits to pull out until you're no longer fluttering around him.

You've had a quick fuck before but nothing like this.

A moment passes and suddenly Kunigami is feeling guilty again, quick to pull out and grab tissue paper to gently wipe your dribbling cunt. Fixing your skirt back to how it was before he tucks himself away.

You don't move, still pressed into the cramped bowl of the sink and he allows himself a small sliver of hope. Pressing his large body over you once more, lips at the shell of your ear.

"You'll let Rensuke take care of you, princess?" He says it so softly with such earnest and almost innocent desire that you turn to face him. Searching his eyes for a lie and when you find none your heart races. Beating faster and harder than it ever has before as you accept his sly way of asking you out.

"I couldn't ask for a better hero to save me."

He kisses you gently, smile felt in his lips and when he pulls away he gently turns you to make sure nothing is on your skirt. Grabbing for discarded jersey to hold for you. Stopping at the door, hand at the small of your back to guide you before his lips are at your ear again.

"We'll have a shower at my place, take out and then I'm going to help you sleep real good tonight sweetheart. No one's gonna see you post that toy ever again and I promise I'll buy you coffee in the morning."

@kingkunigami thank you for always letting me send thots in your dms 😂 @meggsngrits your tag as per your request bb.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 18: Golden Strings

Chapter Word Count: 6,198

Anything in Bold Italics are Korean/Another language.

TW: Mentions of death/dying (a few times), Sadness

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Things were getting worse before they would hopefully get better. 

You had left the confines of your room after hanging up with Jihoon and calming down enough to update Jisung on the speed in which the withdrawal was setting in. His neutral face softened and he sighed, picking up both yours and his ramen containers, taking them to the kitchen to dispose of. He reassured you that if you needed anything, he’d be here to help you and joked that he didn’t have a choice with Gangman underwater. Jisung, not being the best at any emotional comfort, gave you a pat on the head, a bottle of water, and told you to relax in bed and hopefully you can sleep. 

You had a million questions and concerns filtering through your mind. What if the flooding doesn’t go down fast enough and you need to be away longer ? Will you both be okay in the next twenty-four hours with how fast the withdrawal was setting in? How will this affect the concert schedule coming up rapidly? Would you even be able to properly fly if you get to the worst stages of the separation? You already couldn't eat, sleep wasn’t gonna happen even if you tried. Soon you won’t be able to hear, after that you’d be too weak to even move, let alone get on a plane to Japan. 

“ -ah..Ruby-ah, are you still here?” 

Your eyes refocused back on the video call you had with Jihoon on your phone propped up against your pillow. “Yeah, I zoned out.” 

It was nearing five in the morning. Neither of you had an ounce of sleep. Sometimes the conversation was flowing, trying to fill the void that weighed heavily on both of your souls, other times you zoned out or Jihoon was messing around on his ipad. 

He let his eyes wander around the room, something he does when he is trying to think or working out words in his head. “ What do you wanna do when you get to Japan?” 

“Minghao said he was going to take me hiking through the forests when we have time. Soonyoungie, Mingyu-ah, and Minnie said they’d go to Harajuku with me on a free day.” 

“ Was Harujuku Soonyoungie’s idea?” 

You shook your head, breathing out a small chuckle. “ I asked them to go with me.” 

“What else?” 

“Maybe we could get that Katsudon you couldn’t get to eat.” 

He managed to laugh, sighing with a smile. “ That sounds like a date.” 

“ It's a date. Promise.” You nodded, “I know Osaka Castle is really pretty. Hell, even just walking the streets there. And Channie and I wanted to take Shua to Nara Park and have him take pictures with deer.” 

“Carats would have a blast with those photos.” He rolled his eyes, moving to lay on his back and holding his phone over his head. 

“ I really wanna get him surrounded by deer and see how long he would just sit there with them. Channie and I have a bet to see if one of them will nibble on Shua’s hair.” 

That made Jihoon laugh a little louder and your heart swelled. “ Can I be added into the bet?” 

“Of course you can.” 

Dawn came before either of you knew it. The call had gone quiet but it didn’t end. He was watching something on his ipad and you had got your laptop to scroll mindlessly through twitter. You peeked out of the blinds, the sky was still dark and rain was still falling. From the eighth floor, you couldn’t tell if the wind was too bad, but one look at the streets didn’t look good. You swallowed your disappointment and curled up in bed beside your phone, watching Jihoon perk up and look at the screen.

“ What?” Jihoon asked, yawning but covered his mouth quickly. “ Why did you feel like that?” 

“The streets are still flooded. It rained all night.” 

Both of you stared at each other through the phone for a couple minutes. There were many unsaid things being thrown in the glances, the heavy, worried feeling on both sides of the bond. His face twisted in an expression you didn’t fully understand but the ache in the bond was telling. 

“ Okay.” He finally breathed out, pushing his hair back from his face. “ That’s okay, we are still doing okay, right?” 

“...Right…” You didn’t sound too confident but with no sleep and no food, things might start going downhill very soon and very fast and neither of you knew what to prepare for. “ Jihoonie?” 

He raised a brow, humming out to acknowledge you calling for him. 

“ I’m scared.” 

“I know…I’m scared too…” 

Hanging up with Jihoon to call the Incheon visa office was difficult. You didn’t want to hang up but he needed to go and update staff and the members on the current situation since they were having a meeting before early practice. Jisung was awake, you could hear him rustling around in your kitchen, but you made no move to leave the bedroom. 

As you wait on hold listening to the mind numbing music that was used to fill the blank space, you really wanted to bash your head into the wall. And you waited…and waited…and waited…until finally the stupid music stopped and the man’s voice from yesterday answered. 

“Good morning, you have reached the visa office located in Incheon, this is supervisor Kim, how may I help you?” 

“Hello, this is Y/N L/N , I was in your office yesterday regarding an emergency soulmate travel visa and soulmate passport information. I was told to call this morning to see if anything could be done?” 

“Oh! Yes, as of currently we are working from home since the office is flooded, but I can check the progress on your visa.” He asked for you to spell your name, get your date of birth, and the ID number from your last visa. “ The status of your application is…complete actually. I can email you a copy of the visa, however as of now, the airport has still grounded flights.” 

“Yes, I am aware. I’m hoping that I can catch the first flight out before my withdrawal gets any worse…” 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience these times have brought you.” He sounded genuine and you smiled to yourself. 

“ Thank you, hopefully by tomorrow everything will be alright.” 

“I just sent out the email with your visa and a file attachment for the soulmate passport application, make sure to print the visa before heading to the airport. Have a good day.” 

With another simple thank you, you hung up and finally made the effort to stand up and leave your room. Your limbs were heavy and you were tired, every move you made was more tiring than the last. While it’s just been under a full day since you were separated from Jihoon, the sluggishness was fogging your brain. You didn’t feel hungry but your body was craving sustenance and your eyelids were drowsy with each blink. If the withdrawal’s pace went any faster, you wondered how much longer your body could handle it. 

Jisung was sitting quite comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath him and the comforter you profived wrapped around him. He had one of your larger mugs you found at a thrift store brimming with coffee in his hands and a sleepy, dazed look on his face. 

“ Morning.” He muttered, eyes unfocused on the blank walls. He took a long, slow sip of the coffee. 

“ For someone really put together at work, you look like a mess in the morning.” You took a seat beside him, hearing him smack his lips together to take the full taste of the drink he downed. 

“ Technically, I’m making my job on call as of now and I slept in more than I usually do.” 

“Slept in- it’s nine in the morning.” 

“I usually work out around six and get ready for the day after.” 

“Are you a robot?” 

That made his shoulders shake with silent laughter. “ No, but my mother thinks I am and she gave birth to me. Says I’m like my dad. Did you and Jihoon-nim get any sleep?” 

Shaking your head, Jisung nodded in return. “ We were up all night on a video call.” 

“What usually comes next after not eating and sleeping?” 

Leaning your head against the back of the couch, you wracked your brain of the articles you’ve read in the past. “ Any energy we have will start to decrease, we will start to lose our hearing, I’ve heard some people start to go blind until they reconnect. The feelings we’d be able to share would start to dull until you don’t feel anything. It’s kinda different for each soulbond but ours is progressing really fast so I’m not sure what to expect next.” 

“How do you feel currently?” 

“I feel like I haven’t slept for days and all the pressure of Jupiter’s gravity is weighing me down. Don’t know if I want to cry or if I want to curl up in a ditch and let the fates decide.” 

“So sunshine and rainbows?” The sarcasm was thick . 

“Did you just say- You know what, yeah, Jisung. I’m feeling like sunshine and rainbows right now.” 

“Good because your mood matches the weather outside.” 

“If you weren’t holding the biggest cup of coffee known to man, I would punch you.” 

Jisung smirked over the rim of the mug, “ It would probably feel like nothing if you hit me.” 

“If I didn’t feel like ass, I’d be kicking you out.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

“Is this what a sibling feels like?” You asked yourself but Jisung scoffed and continued to smirk. 

“Do you forget I know English?” There was barely a hint of an accent in his words. 

“No, I’m just too tired to be thinking in another language.” 

“I would say to get some sleep but both of us know that won’t happen.” 

“This sucks. Like, majorly.” 

“It’s okay to be scared if you are.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, peeling the skin away. It stung and you could taste the iron of your blood when you ran your tongue over to soothe the pain. “I’ve never been more scared of anything in my life.” 

He nudged your arm with his elbow and you nudged him back. “I’ll make sure you get to Japan and get you back to Jihoon, Ruby. Despite our unconventional professional relationship, I’d hate to see you and him go down because of some flooding and rain.” 

“Thank you, Jisung. It means more than you think. Let’s just hope that it’s sooner rather than later.” 

[Sunday Morning 1:14 PM] I’m guessing you are feeling as bad as Jihoonie?  [Grandma 1:15 PM]  Of course they are!  [To Angel, Demon, Gem 1:15 PM] I don’t know, Joshua, is the sky fucking blue? [Sunday Morning 1:17 PM] I dunno, it’s kinda gray right now.  I don’t appreciate the sass right now. (～o￣3￣)～ [Grandma 1:17 PM]  Ya, I’m too lazy to translate  [To Angel, Demon, Gem 1:18 PM] I’m giving him an attitude, Hannie. [Grandma 1:18 PM]  Proud of you~  Jihoonie said that you both didn’t sleep? Can’t eat?  [To Angel, Demon, Gem 1:19 PM] When this is all over, I better not hear a peep about why I’m clingy to Jihoonie. Do you understand?  [Sunday Morning 1:20 PM] I think we can make that happen. Seems easy enough.  Right, Jeonghanie? [Grandma 1:20 PM] I will never agree to anything against my morals.  [To Angel, Demon, Gem 1:21 PM] Shua, I hate him. [Sunday Morning 1:21 PM] Yeah, me too  [Grandma 1:21 PM] I can understand that! 

—

[Tangerine 2:40 PM]  Can you please answer Mingyu-hyung because he won’t stop complaining that you aren’t answering him [To Tangerine 2:45 PM]  No ( •̀ ω •́ ) Tell him to stop blowing up my phone and to take a chill pill . [Tangerine 2:48 PM]  {Video attached} 

Mingyu was laying on the floor of what looked like a practice studio with layers of tape marking out space on the floor. He looked tired, a little sweaty from practice most likely. You could see what you assumed was Seungkwan’s shoes beside Mingyu’s head and the taller of the two was pouting, looking at his phone screen then up to Seungkwan who was just quietly recording. Mingyu gave a huff and dropped his phone to his chest. 

“ Yah! Stop recording!” 

“Stop being a baby, hyung.” 

“I’m not being a baby!” Mingyu sat up quickly and whined like a child , criss-crossing his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“ You are being a baby.” Wonwoo’s monotone voice was heard off camera and Mingyu whined once more, being cut off by the end of the video. 

[Tangerine 2:50 PM] This is what I’ve had to deal with.  [To Tangerine 2:55 PM]  I will never know peace in my life. 

—

[To Triple Threat (+ Ruby-ah) 3:01 PM] Mingyu, stop being annoying.  [Puppy 3:02 PM]  I am not annoying!  You just haven’t answered any of my messages Which is rude by the way  And I just want to make sure my friend is okay But no, you are ignoring me.  [To Triple Threat (+ Ruby-ah) 3:05 PM] You have sent me over 50 texts since yesterday when I muted the chat [Sunshine 3:07 PM] !!!  Ruby-ah!  You are back!! [To Triple Threat (+ Ruby-ah) 3:09 PM] Nah Telling Mingyu to shut up. 

And you promptly muted the chat again. 

Practice was kicking his ass. With no sleep the night before or any food to recharge, Jihoon was sore, tired, and running on fumes. 

When he sat down earlier in the day for the big meeting with everyone, explaining that the withdrawal was already setting in, everyone was on edge. He did get Ruby’s message that the visa was completed and all that was needed was to wait for flights to start back up again. The members were overly protective, asking if he was okay, saying that it was okay if he needed to take longer to rest, even the staff with soulmates among them insisted he take time for himself, but he wasn’t having it. 

He knew he should have taken their advice, but the idea of sitting around while practice still went on didn’t sit well with him. The Dome tour was important not alone to him and the members, but to the fans, and he’d hate to miss something and not correct it or something go wrong because they didn’t handle it prior to the show itself. Many of the guys liked to call him a perfectionist, he called himself…particular, nothing too out of pocket. 

As Jihoon sat on the floor of the Kyocera Dome in Osaka, watching the LED screens light up with all the graphics, it felt as if his energy just dropped and there was nothing left to keep him going. He laid back flat on the floor, letting his eyelids slide shut to block some of the blinding light from the screens. There was an excruciating headache pounding behind his eyes, it’s been raging on for hours and he was starting to lose focus the longer it went on. 

Laying there on the ground was the one piece of tranquility, letting the pain and fatigue that wore his limbs settle and just let his spine decompress. There was a small wave of relief that gave him enough energy to take a deep breath and slow the pace of his heart in hopes to lessen the metaphoric hammer beating against his head. 

“ Jihoonie,” The soft, concerned voice of Seungcheol caught his attention but he didn’t make a move. He grunted out in response that he was listening. “ Are you okay?” 

“Tired…” Jihoon muttered out, “ What…time is it?” 

“Nearly four-thirty. Let me help you up, man.” He heard Seungcheol’s voice closer than before and a crack open of his eyes showed the leader squatting down beside his head. “ We can get you back to the hotel. You look paler than you did earlier.” 

“We still have practice-” 

“And I need you alive to get through the rest of this until Ruby gets to Japan, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol’s tone dropped and Jihoon knew he was serious, there was no escaping the plan the older man had already made up in his mind. “ And I’m going to stay with you.”

“Hyung-” 

“Jihoon-ah, I’m worried to the point that I’m having anxiety. I’m staying with you so you better be ready for movies because that’s what you’ll have to put up with.”

“Fine…fine. Help me up.” With the dwindled strength he had, Jihoon raised his hand up. 

Seungcheol was quick to take his hand but slow to help him up to not cause him any further discomfort. When he was fully on his feet, there was a sway to his stance but the other kept him standing with a firm hand on his upper arm. The leader did look concerned, rightfully bothered, but Cheol was probably more worried than he was letting on. 

“ Hyung, please get a car, I want to get Jihoon back to the hotel.” Seungcheol helped him slowly walk towards their head manager. One peak at the gaze the two men shared was telling enough that both , if not everyone , was troubled by the state of Jihoon. 

The trip back was quiet, he sat in the back with the seat almost fully reclined at his own insistence. Through the pain that hindered his brain power, whispers were shared between the manager and Seungcheol, the words too hushed to make out, but it obviously was regarding him. 

Getting to his room was another feat. Each step was slower than the last, Jihoon was getting winded and had to take some small breathers. On the elevator he was leaning into Seungcheol’s side who wrapped an arm protectively over his shoulder. The manager, thankfully,  opened the door and face planted into the mattress. Seungcheol called out something about grabbing a few things from his own room before returning back.

Jihoon felt tired, Ruby felt tired, he felt miserable, they felt miserable. All he wanted right now was to sleep and have Ruby by his side. 

Hearing the door to his room beep and a snort, Jihoon knew Seungcheol had arrived back. “ You haven’t moved for ten minutes, are you still breathing?” 

All he managed to muster was a grunt in return. 

“ Come on, get up, at least get changed.” 

“Don’t wanna.” He grumbled. 

Seungcheol patted him on the back, tugging on his sleeve. “ I know you don’t but being in the same clothes from practice isn’t comfortable.” 

Pushing himself up and onto his back was exhausting. Seungcheol, being the considerate and worry-wart man he was, grabbed him some clothes and Jihoon shuffled his way into the bathroom. Once he pulled the fresh clothes on, he looked in the mirror and had to agree with Seungcheol’s statement earlier. He did look pale. The bags under his eyes were prominent. If one didn’t know better, they could assume he didn’t sleep for days when in reality it was only one, going on two. To himself, he looked somber, the metaphorical ‘ shell of himself’ .  

He wasn’t angry anymore, not that he was angry at Ruby to begin with, he never was. Jihoon was more angry at the situation fate had placed them in. He was angry that no one on the staff roster knew that Ruby’s visa had expired, seeing that they were the people that needed to pay attention to those things. He was angry at himself for not listening to his gut and staying back. He was angry at himself for feeling helpless. 

Walking out of the bathroom, Jihoom wasn’t surprised to see that Seungcheol had set up his computer to the TV with the HDMI cable he always brought along to keep entertained. Cheol was in fact already tucked under the covers, computer mouse being moved around on his chest to scroll through the selection of movies he could pick from. Without a care, Jihoon slugged his way under the blankets and tiredly sighed. 

Aside from the random movie that was playing, neither of them said a word. Occasionally he’d see Cheol’s head shift to look over at him but Jihoon didn’t mention it as long as it brought the latter some sense of reassurance. 

“ Hyung?” Jihoon cleared his throat, peering over to Seungcheol. 

The other perked up, his typically pouty expression accompanied by wide, sparkling eyes. “ Hm?” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” 

That had Seungcheol raising a brow but nodding. 

“ I miss Ruby-ah. I miss them a lot.” 

Seungcheol gave a chuckle, reaching over from under the blanket and ruffling his hair. “ I know.” 

“It feels like…” He sighed, moving his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. “ It feels like a part of me is missing…All the soulbond, soulmate shit aside. I miss just having them around to talk to…They are a great listener and can understand me a lot…” 

“It’s only been, what, over a day since you have been apart? I dunno, Jihoonie, kinda sounds like you are smitten.” The teasing was light hearted, but Jihoon’s cheeks flushed. 

“ I-” He pursed his lips, trying to think of a reply, but nothing came. “ Shut up-” 

—

[Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:11 PM]  Did you change the emoji for me again?  [To Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:14 PM] Yes. Problem?  [Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:16 PM]  Just curious.  You feel as bad as I do?  [To Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:20 PM]  Yeah. Coups-hyung is staying with me for the night.  [Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:22 PM]  We both have our babysitters.  Oh! The airports should be up tomorrow. The water has been going down. I’ll let you know what the news says in the morning.  [To Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:27 PM] Be on the first flight. Please.  [Ruby (◍•ᴗ•◍) 9:31 PM]  I plan on it, Jihoonie.  I’m going to try and get some work done since I’ve been putting it off. I’ll talk to you later. 

Jihoon stared at the message, chewing on the inside of his cheek. For him, texting was usually bland. He wasn’t much to text when he could just call, it was easier to get points across and not think too hard to reply. 

He typed one message out, staring at it: I miss you. Quickly Jihoon deleted that one. Then he wrote another one: I wish you were here right now. He hated both of those options. Internally he laughed at himself. For a highly praised song writer and lyricist, he couldn’t write a simple, affectionate text message to save his life. 

Finally he decided on the simplest of answers, ‘Okay’ and (。_。) before tossing his phone aside. 

Nearly halfway through the fourth movie did Jihoon notice something was up. It wasn’t too bad at first, he always had ringing in his ears. He attributed it to the headache that raged on and the lack of food and energy, however, it gradually got louder. When he had asked Seungcheol to turn up the volume the first time, the older man didn’t question it, but when he became hard to hear at the first higher level, he felt a sense of panic. 

“ Cheol-hyung.” Jihoon shook his head, trying to pop his ear drums. The ringing was deafening, it was making him dizzy and he felt sick to his stomach. Despite his best efforts, he was starting to hyperventilate.  

If Seungcheol was saying something, he could barely hear it. When a hand grabbed his arm and hauled him into a sitting position, Jihoon came face to face with a very very anxious Seungcheol. 

“ I can’t- The ringing in my ears, I can’t hear anything.” Tears were welling in the corner of his eyes and a strained breath forced its way out of his lungs. “ I’m gonna be sick-” 

Seungcheol practically carried him to the bathroom and got him in front of the toilet. Much to his distaste, he did end up losing the contents of his stomach. The back of his throat burned, the only thing he had in his stomach was acid. There was a hand on his back rubbing circles to provide some assemblance of comfort. A hopeless string of curse words left him and he leaned over the toilet seat, feeling the tears trickling down his cheeks. 

Raising his head, he struggled to take in a breath between sniffling and the sick feeling that overcame him. Seungcheol was saying something, his lips were moving, but he shook his head, unable to hear anything. In a last ditch effort, Cheol held up a finger in a wait motion and ran out of the bathroom, only to return with his phone in hand and the notes app open.

Cheol was quick to type something down: I’m going to tell the managers

“ Yeah…yeah.” Jihoon nodded, swallowing down the second wave of nausea. “ Someone needs to check on…Check on Ruby-ah.”

Seungcheol held a thumbs up, sitting on the bathroom floor with him and made a call. He was speaking quickly by how fast his mouth was moving. Jihoon scooted back to place himself against the wall, glad the tiles of the bathroom walls were cold through his clothes back. Cheol was quick to grab a washcloth, ran it under cold water, and placed the damp fabric against Jihoon’s forehead. 

The door to the hotel room soon became bustling with managers and members. Seungcheol called Seungkwan since the younger one could type fast enough to keep Jihoon updated on why everyone was bombarding him. Seungkwan asked if he wanted help off the bathroom floor but it was cold enough to calm the nausea so he declined. Mingyu, to Jihoon’s actual delight, told him that Ruby was okay, shaken up and scared that they couldn’t hear, but okay. 

He wanted to talk to Ruby over text message, but when he started to stare at the screen of his phone, he couldn’t focus. Mingyu was able to type up messages to Ruby and communicate back and forth. Ruby was in bed from what they said, trying to calm the anxiety that was wrecking their body and mind. Jisung was talking with the head security about getting Ruby on a flight within the first couple hours of flights getting off the ground. Everyone was trying to stretch their limits to help. 

With this new development as well, Jihoon did notice the dulled feelings from Ruby’s side of the bond. The short and simple text messages gave him the mental peace that they were surviving, but the diminishing feeling was isolating. Though he wanted reassurance and comfort, the affection that the guys brought wasn’t exactly enough. Seungcheol and Joshua (he didn’t know when Joshua arrived) did manage to get him back into bed. Jihoon barely managed to walk on his own, let alone crawl under the blankets, so he was once again carried and tucked in under the protective eye of some of the oldest. 

“ Hyung..” Jihoon inhaled deeply, seemingly out of breath despite the low efforts. The mattress dipped at his side and a crack of his eyes open showed Jeonghan and Joshua sitting beside him, expressions filled with worry but they gave him soft smiles. “ I don’t want to die.” 

Jeonghan’s face didn’t falter, but he reached a hand up and brushed Jihoon’s hair back from his forehead, nodding. He took out his phone and typed up a short message before showing it to him. 

We won’t let that happen. Promise. 

No one got any proper sleep. The door to his room was propped over and at any given hour, someone was by his side. At one point, a majority of them were sitting around the room with words he couldn’t hear being thrown around and Seungkwan typing with fast fingers to keep him involved. He weakly was able to tell them to slow down so the younger one could keep him clued in and for some of them to get to sleep. They agreed to slow down but it became an outright refusal to leave until Seungcheol said something and the room got less crowded.

The oldest three didn’t move from their spots. Seungcheol was biting his nails from his anxiety (which Jeonghan hit his hand to stop). Jeonghan was chewing on the skin of his bottom lip (which Seungcheol nagged him to not do based on the expressions passed between them). Joshua…Joshua started to organize and repack Jihoon’s suitcase (but no one stopped him since he was just trying to keep himself busy). 

When each of the members throughout the night held up a phone note with the same question asking if he needed anything, the words just spilled out easily. 

“ I want Ruby-ah. I need Ruby-ah.” 

They were all so patient when Jihoon just wanted to talk because he couldn’t hear anything. He talked about the new music he was working on prior to leaving for the current leg of the tour. He spoke about Ruby, how he missed them and wished they were at his side right now. In the late hours of the night with just the 95 line…He spoke about not wanting to die…and the four of them did cry. It hurt a lot, but it didn’t hurt as bad as having a part of his soul so far away, suffering just as he was. 

It was close to seven in the morning when there was an assemblance of good news. The managers barged in with an email to show Jihoon that Ruby would be on a plane within the next few hours based on the ticket details displayed on the phone screen. Waves of relief calmed the gloom that worried his soul. It’d still be a wait until Ruby and him were reunited, but hope had seeded itself so he would hold on until then.

With the hours drawing on, plans were coming into fruition rather quickly. Jihoon would travel to the airport with a manager, security, and Joshua who insists on helping the best he can. They’d pick up Ruby and Jisung before coming back to the hotel and probably knocking the hell out after a few days of no eating or drinking. Each of them would have to mask up and ‘disguise’ themselves to avoid any unwanted attention, but Jihoon could honestly throw that all out the door just to see his soulmate, to hold them close. 

Getting up (with lots of help), getting dressed (which he grumbled and hissed in pain about), and getting in the van (all the movement had him wanting to throw up) were some of the hardest things he’d ever done in life with how horrible he felt. The bond was so diluted Jihoon could feel  none of Ruby’s emotions, his heart and soul ached. With the flight, there was no communication for a few hours, let alone before that since both him and Ruby were both too weak so others were communicating for them. 

They wait off to the side of the airport arrival terminal. Jihoon was sitting back against the wall, but mainly letting his weight rest against Joshua’s shoulder. The two security guards were sitting on either side of the two while the manager paced back and forth with his phone in hand. The ringing was still roaring on, Joshua showed him the flight had landed and it was only a matter of time before he had them back in his arms. 

The first pull in his chest had him perking up, lifting his head from Joshua’s shoulder. Jihoon rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the second pull and the quickening pace of his heart. The surge of energy that coursed through his veins was as dizzying as the ear splitting buzz that bounced around his head. It felt as if strings were tugging him, giving him the strength to move, the strength to live . Joshua went to stop him when Jihoon stood but he pushed both the older man and the manager away. 

Jihoon let the strings lead him. One foot after another he stumbled towards the blocked off exit leading to the rest of the airport. People were striding out with suitcases in hand, the automatic doors opening and closing between each wave. The continuous pull was pulsing to a beat that wasn’t his own heart. It was warm, so inviting, holding the shreds of hope he had. Jihoon wanted to follow it more, his soul wished for him to jump the barricade and run down the halls until the strings were eased into a low hum. 

Joshua was at his side just moments after his own hands met the cold metal barrier, skin quietly coming alive with anticipation. There was a panic behind his masked face, staring at Jihoon like the shorter man was crazy, but he didn’t care. Jihoon knew what, who , he was waiting for. He knew they lied just beyond the security of the airport. He could feel them getting closer and closer… 

Pulling the mask off and shoving it in the pocket of his sweatshirt, he beat his hand against the metal, eyes watching the patrons pass through, none of them the person he needed right now. 

“ Come on,” The antsy anxiety was crawling under his skin as the hum grew stronger. “ Come on, Ruby-ah.” 

Joshua grabbed onto Jihoon’s upper arm with a firm grip when the doors opened and Jisung was seen. It was for his own good not to jump over into his soulmate's arms. Jisung was pulling the set of luggage, one Jihoon recognized as Ruby’s little dinged up, sticker covered hardshell suitcase that they wouldn’t get rid of despite his offers to buy them another. 

Then he saw Ruby and he swore the world stopped moving. The strings that tugged on his soul were nagging, begging to finally reconnect with his fated other half. When their eyes met across the way, his heart stopped.

They shoved the backpack in their hand at Jisung who struggled to catch the bag and ran with the new found strength the bond most likely provided them as well. 

Jihoon moved quickly to the exit of the barricade, stumbling and brushing people out of the way to get to his goal with sorry excuses for apologizing in Japanese. When he stood at the other side of the automatic gate, open for someone walking through and around him, Jihoon let the pent up emotion finally break. 

Ruby ran straight into his arms and they tumbled down to the floor, ignoring the looks and scoffs that followed. Tears were streaming down their face and a wide, shaky smile had him mimicking one of his own. He reached out and gently grabbed their face, hands shaking but a buff of a laugh came from him when the rush of sound came back all at once. 

Everything around them was so loud. He could hear the sound of Ruby crying and trying to catch their breath. He could hear the chatter of people around them. He could hear his manager, the guards, Jisung, and Joshua all trying to figure out how to break them from the little bubble they’ve created. 

“ You’re here.” He finally said, taking in a shuttered breath as he rested his forehead against Ruby's, his own tears rolling down his cheeks. “ You are finally here.” 

“I am here.” They whispered the words, a quiet hiccup of a sob leaving them. “ I told you I would.” 

“I-” He struggled to make coherent thoughts but instead used actions. 

Jihoon placed a kiss on Ruby's lips, uncaring of the repercussions. He held their face delicately, whipping the stray tears on their face away with his thumbs. Fireworks sparkled within him, reminding him of the first kiss they shared not all too long ago. It was breathtaking yet invigorating, full of the care and dedication he had towards his soulmate that he hoped they’d understand. When he pulled away, keeping their foreheads against one another, the world was back in motion and while he was tired, he’d rather not be anywhere else. 

“ Ruby-ah.” Jihoon leaned back, getting a full look at them. Ruby looked back at him with adoration and affection that he could feel through the bond. 

He’s never felt this with anything outside of his music before meeting Ruby. He’s felt it in a platonic way with his friends. He has felt it familially with his parents and the members of Seventeen, but never quite like this. It was much stronger than every other way he has felt this…feeling before. It was an unknown territory yet it brought excitement and curiosity. He just needed to tell them-

“ I love you.”

[konigsblog]

I need more kidnapper!König!

Like what would he do if one day he left and didn't come back for a few days. How would he treat you after? Frail and sickly looking after days without food and minimal water.

What if hurt yourself? (Not on purpose..,) does he care? Does he take care of it?

What if you actually DO manage to escape ? How does he find you again? Before you find anyone else? How does he punish you for that.

So many things. So may questions.

This shit has me in a CHOKEHOLD.

august fourth broke you. (yandere!könig x gn!reader)

// photo belongs to @ave661

TRIGGER WARNINGS; yandere behaviour, weight loss (unintentional)

august fourth.

he promised you. he swore he'd be back by midnight, but when you look at the the bed next to you, it's empty. no sign of him, at all. it makes you feel odd; like your throat is closing up at the thought of you being all alone, even worse when you think about how desperate you are for him. his pillow is losing that familiar scent, the warmth, the love, him.

it's the sixth day of august, has he died? you use the home phone to call him, no answer and instead met with voicemails. you already feel your heart shattering, he lied to you, what's going on? it's midnight again, the seventh rolling around, three days without contact, food running even lower as he promised to bring back food once he was home.

the eighth day of the eighth month. another water bottle chugged to supress the hunger, your heart aching at the thought of being alone. you had no one, not even your parents, no family, no friends. könig was your last remaining loved one, where is he? the scent no longer feels comforting, it feels like a knife was pierced into your heart, ripped away and leaving it to seep out crimson blood.

“fuck–!” you curse, hitting your hipbone on the side of the table. it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but you hadn't been eating properly, desperately trying to keep food for later, later never rolling around. you felt the grumbling in your stomach, nothing to satisfy the sounds, nothing to eat. your appetite was gone by the first week without him.

twenty calls, the twentieth day. more than two weeks without his soul lingering around his house, one week without food. you could see your reflection in the glass window, frail and gaunt, eyes glassy and glistening from your tears, cheeks stained. the pain only got worse, both in your hip and in your heart, what is going on?

the first of september caused an emotional breakdown. rocking yourself back and forth, waterline filled with tears, smile now replaced with a deep frown. the sky was orange, a deep orange colour reflecting back onto you. water wasn't enough to satiate your denying hunger, your eyebags becoming deeper and more visible as the night goes on. you felt uneasy, as if you were being watched, looking around every couple hours to see nothing but an empty, dark hallway looking back at you.

the door creaked open on the second, not the front door, the bedroom door. it scared you, the wind scared you, outside scared you, being alone scared you. you took to sleeping on the couch instead, doing nothing but staring at old photos of the two of you when you were both bright and happy. you've lost all hope.

the sounds from the clock feel fake, so does the sound of a car parking infront of your house. stop playing tricks on me, you mutter to your brain, eyes sunken in as you don't have anymore energy left to sit upright. they continue, the footsteps play in your mind, they hurt, forget a knife in your heart, it was if you were slowly being eaten away at by rabid mice, like your heart was decomposing inside your living body. stop it, stop it, fucking stop it!

you can feel yourself growing lighter, not just in weight, but emotionally. it's as if you're dreaming, maybe you're hallucinating, maybe you are slowly decomposing and you don't want to admit it. a dreamlike state takes over your form, feeling yourself fall into a deep sleep. the sounds of a bathtub running awakens you, the light beaming from the bathroom, the bedroom door still opening and closing as the wind forces it open and shut every second. you didn't dare speak, you wouldn't, you couldn't. throat strained and sore, headache pounding, hands shaking.

the sound of a foot tip tapping fills your ears. what's happening? you're no longer worried about könig, who cares anyways, he obviously didn't. you were worried for yourself and your safety, feeling even more uneasy and unsafe as you laid still, letting whatever form roam the house, too weak to lift your head. it's stopped, the sound of someone tip tapping their foot stopped, the bathtub running stopped, the sounds of someone running their hands through the water to check if it's too hot or too cold replacing them.

a sigh, heavy and deep making you jump from your skin. finally, after months, you see him. you expected to jump into his arms on the fourth of august, instead fear was clearly visible in your eyes, a small sob leaving your lips as you attempted to hide yourself. “liebling..” könig cooed at you, lifting you into his arms. you didn't fight, you couldn't; not after being torn down like that. he pealed away your clothes, yet it felt as if he was pealing your skin away. you tensed up at his touch, his eyes roaming your face and body before letting placing you into the bathtub. stop it, stop it, fucking stop it!

you weren't yelling at your brain, you were yelling at him. voice unused and sore, taken a back as you weep into your knees. “maus, i'm sorry. please, i'm sorry.” his hands wash you, lathering soap onto your skin despite your pleads and protests. you didn't understand, feeling afraid of the man you once worshipped. you remained still, like a statue.

you looked in the mirror for the first time in weeks, hearing a distressed ‘fuck’ from behind you, a cold breeze slipping through the window and leaving goosebumps on your skin. ill was a word to describe you, though traumatized would be more accurate. könig looked the same, not in a comforting way, in a way that made your skin crawl. you hated him, you hated everything he did to you. why did he remain the same meanwhile you were broken down?

“why.” it wasn't a proper question, with no context it would be confusing, it kept könig silent and quiet for the rest of the evening, sat in his lap as he took care of your matted hair. you looked forward at the pictures that layered the wallls, it made you want to gag, to throw up, to rip the abominations off the wall, the man that promised you love lied once again.

“why didn't you pick up the fucking phone.” your voice didn't suit you like how it once did, it was as if it belonged to another being. stern, demanding, rough. “i'm sorry, schatz–” “answer the fucking question, könig.” you didn't notice how you had tears already caking your face, salty warm tears slipping into your mouth as you clenched your hands into a fist.

he draped his arms over your frail figure, pulling you closer to his chest, a ‘tender’ kiss pressed onto your shoulder. it made you grit your teeth, wanting to slap him across the face 'til he was begging you to stop, but with your weakness, you could do nothing but sit there and cry. sob, weep, yell, tharsh, scream, nothing would be able to get the man you called your husband off of you, a monster replacing what was left of him

[violetsandfluff]

The Yogurt Shop

anon request: harry x invisible string by taylor swift

a/n: this is not proofread, but it is a little awkward— im still trying to write blurbs.

summary: fetus harry got a job at a yogurt shop and remembered his second customers thirteen years later

wc: about 900

June, 2010

You could see, smell, and practically hear sugar screaming out loud from the moment you walked in the door. The small building housed dozens of flavors of frozen yogurt in all flavors, and every kind of topping imaginable. The walls were covered in an energetic turquoise wallpaper, and the chairs and tables were each painted an array of jarringly bright colors, each of them empty. Not a single customer milled through the shop.

“Hello,” a cheery young voice greeted you as doorchimes alerted him to your presence. “Welcome to The Yogurt Shop.”

“He’s adorable,” your friend Samantha chirped quietly, catching your attention. You averted your eyes from the colorful atmosphere of the shop to the boy dressed in a shirt as bright teal as the walls standing at the register. A curly mop of dark brown hair rested atop his head, and you immediately noticed the dimples adorning each of his cheeks as he smiled.

“The yogurt and bowls are on the yellow table against the wall to your right and the toppings are on the other wall,” he explained, feeling foolish when he realized you could see for yourself. “I have spoons and napkins up here.”

You gave him a grateful nod as your eyes began scanning the vast array of flavors and toppings.

“His accent is so posh,” your friend rambled into your ear.

“We’re in England. Everyone here talks like that,” you reasoned, feeling jealous that she had spotted him first.

“It’s so sophisticated and lovely,” she gushed. “I wish the boys back home were like him.”

“Jared is,” you teased, hinting at the boy she had been crushing on since eighth grade. “Is he not?”

“Not like that,” Samantha cooed. “Forget Minneapolis. I’m moving to London so I can meet attractive boys with accents every day.”

You shook your head at her antics as you hesitantly added some frozen yogurt to your dish.

“Have either of you been here before?” the cute boy piped. “My favorite flavor is cotton candy,” he added when you shook your heads, prompting you to add some to your dish. “I didn’t think you were local based on your accents.”

“What are you doing?” Samantha hissed at your yogurt, choking back laughter. “I thought you hated cotton candy.”

You looked distastefully down at your dish, which had both orange and cotton candy flavored frozen yogurt, as well as a few M&M’s that had ended up in your dish when she tried to put them in hers. “I can’t put it back now,” you groaned, realizing most of the yogurt would go to waste, despite how expensive it was.

You and Samantha carried your yogurts up to the counter where Harry surveyed them with an untrained eye.

“Do you mind if I take a picture of us and your yogurts?” he asked hesitantly, beckoning to the wall beside him where a singular polaroid hung. Had you been closer, you could have made out a picture of himself and the owner, so new that the color was still seeping into every area of the picture. “I’m trying to expand our photo wall.”

You and Samantha leaned in for a picture and he gave you a grateful smile, holding eye contact slightly longer than necessary.

“How much is it?” Samantha asked awkwardly, fidgeting with the tassels on her purse.

Brought out of his trance, the dimpled boy shrugged, feeling his cheeks redden. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he apologized. “It’s my first day.” He disappeared into the door behind him, presumably looking for somebody else to assess the total cost of their yogurts.

~~~

August, 2023

You hadn’t been to England since you went with Samantha’s family the summer before your junior year, but you had recently gotten into traveling again. Traveling overseas solo was a bit of an adjustment, but you had grown accustomed to taking precautions.

Fresh in your mind was the encounter with the cute boy in the ice cream shop you and Samantha had swooned over for months. You promised her you’d visit the shop during your trip and report back about the cute boy behind the counter.

When you arrived at the all-too familiar storefront, you barely recognized it due to the swarms of people thronging outside of it. A line wound out the door and to the end of the block, filled with people from far and near. The line moved slowly through the color-saturated shop. Hanging on the door was a sign that boldly announced The Yogurt Shop’s final day in business.

As you neared the door, you heard a low yet charming voice calling out to the people in the line. “Hello! Welcome to The Yogurt Shop.”

He was tall like you remembered him, but older and more muscular. By the time you filled your yogurt cup (with more desirable flavors, you might add), you noticed the wall of polaroids behind the register. At the top of the second row of pictures were you and Samantha, goo-goo eyed over the cute boy between them, repulsive frozen yogurts in hand.

You pulled out your phone with a trembling hand while he rang you up and turned it around to face him. He squinted his eyes too examine the photo. Samantha with her tongue out, you holding your yogurt in front of your face, and himself, grinning winningly behind you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, blinking a few times as he stared at it. He turned around slowly to face the polaroid wall before turning back to you, smiling slightly so his dimple showed. “Just vanilla?” he joked. “Your palette’s changed.”

“How much?” you motioned to the cash register and he looked down at it as a cheeky smile blossomed on his face. Shaking his head slowly, he waved a hand at your yogurt. “I forgot to apply a discount.”

“How come?” you frowned in confusion as he passed your cup back to you.

He cocked his head to one side, giving you an insufferably broad smile before pushing your cup further into your hands and beckoning for the next person in line.

Taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mrspeacem1nusone @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @daisyharry

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter 12

Once-ler turns evil. Gets dark at the end. Read the whole thing on Ao3. Excerpt:

It was nice when he could get a second guitar without even thinking about it. Perhaps even nicer than it would have been to someone who didn't have heartbreaking memories of always being told his parents couldn't afford a good one for him. After all, hadn't it been just the other day he'd asked for one on his eighth birthday in front of the music store window and gotten tears in his eyes when his dad told him no?

He didn't have any memories of clothes-shopping as a child either. All he'd gotten was hand-me-downs for short people from his church's charity drives. Surely other people had always gotten measured at tailors to get jackets and trousers of the highest quality to fit them perfectly. This, of course, justified the exorbitant bill when he bought a new designer wardrobe complete with extra tall top hats in his favorite black and bright green colors.

It turned out, the world was full of things he'd never been able to appreciate before he'd had money:

Clothes, drinks, cars, trips, events. There were so many more opportunities when you weren't just a poor helpless urchin…

He would never go back to being poor. Never. He was even worse than his Ma, after a short time.

"Oncie, don't ya think maybe we could take a day off to have a family picnic and celebrate the end of summer like in the old days?" she said to him one day.

Once-ler looked up from the photos he was studying for a new billboard advertisement. He'd almost settled on what he thought was a charismatic picture of himself with his arms spread wide and an eye-popping grin on his face, though Brett had remarked it made him look rather possessed.

"Ha!" He slammed down the photos. "You mean the old days when we were poor and miserable? Why don't we take the whole week off and have a real party? Or better yet, a month-long tropical vacation?"

His Ma blinked. "Sounds real nice, honey, but who's gonna run the company? Didn't you just get back from a cruise? Ain't ya gettin' just a little too extravagant these days?"

"Who cares? I'm rich! We got a million employees now. Besides I deserve it cuz of all the sufferin' I went through before."

This excuse got less impressive by the day as Once-ler's new luxuries quickly outweighed any misery he'd previously endured. His identity as a lower class citizen faded even more quickly from his own memory and personality than it did into the past.

"I'm so glad that in the last year I was finally able to discover the real me," was something he'd told everyone in his family more than once since they'd returned. It never occurred to him that what he meant was: "I'm so glad I finally have money to do whatever I want without any consequences."

***

2nd excerpt:

"I just wanted to tell you, the Barbaloots are dying."

Something got through the iron-clad self absorption that had enclosed Once-ler for the last few months. He was surrounded by terrible people all the time now, but when harm fell upon innocent creatures, it was different. He remembered the little Barbaloot that had given him a hug after the fiasco in the river.

"What do you mean dying? How can they be… Surely they're not actually dying ?"

"There was something in the water that made 'em sick. Something from your factory that set in quick. It's making 'em not move and lay around. And some of 'em…" There were tears in the Lorax's eyes. "Some of 'em ain't gettin' up from the ground."

READ THE FULL THING ON AO3!!!

[gauloiseblue]

You carved your love on mine / And left a wound / That refused to heal

(Younger!Simon Riley × Older!Reader)

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

TW: manipulative behavior (reader), toxic relationship

He met you when he's still young and reckless. You were enticing, dark, with your moral compass pointing to the south. With your words, you lured him into your world, where all the rules didn't matter except for yours.

He couldn't remember exactly when, or why you took interest in him, but you weren't afraid of showing it. Just like a fool, he took a bite of your poisoned apple.

The first time you marked him as yours was when you pricked his earlobes with earrings. It was a black and round pair, and the wounds slowly healed under your care. You smiled every time you saw your handiwork, and he got a sense that your love was gonna mold him into a puppet on strings.

The second time happened on impulse, because you tempted him with your work of art. You weren't a tattoo artist, but you drew intricate designs in your note. You told him you always wanted a tattoo, but upon an unfortunate circumstance, you were denied every chance of having one. So he offered himself to be your canvas instead. The next day, his forearm was wrapped with cling film, and you kissed him on his cheek as you both exited the tattoo parlor.

The third time you did it was when he wanted you, but you didn't reciprocate. Instead, you asked him to lay down, as you put his wrists on handcuffs. You tortured him for hours with your hands and toys, and never gave him what he needed. You pushed him to the point of frustration, and it made him cut himself from pulling too hard on the metal cuff. You kissed his tears away when you're finished, carefully tended his wound as he laid there, completely spent.

The fourth and the fifth time occurred at the height of your obsession, and he liked you enough to let you use him. You decorated his arm with blank ink, before you paid a tattooist to embed your work into his skin. It took a month to heal, but it was worth it, since you'd trace your finger on his arm when you both laid on the bed. Your touches lingered with him for a long time, and he'd caress the lines of his tattoo—absent-mindedly—as he thought of you sometimes. And he still does it, even to this day.

The sixth time you left a mark on him was the result of his confession. He told you about his plan to enter the military, and you sneered as you taunted him about his pain tolerance. He ended up on your bed, pinned down, as you worked on his nipples. He hissed in pain as you pierced his nib, before you slid the little rod into his skin and screwed it shut. Your eyes darkened as you watched him laid under you, panting, and helpless. Then again, you always liked him when he's powerless.

The seventh time was different, since he was the one who put the mark on himself. He told you that he loved you, that he wanted them to be something more. Yet you were silent, you didn't look at him in the eye. He took your hands into his, trying to get the words through you, but you pulled them away. "I'm sorry." You muttered to him, "I can't love you the way you want." He asked you, begged you for a chance, but once again he's met with your silence. So he swallowed his words, and lied that he's content with what they had.

The eighth time you ruined him, was the time when you took him on a holiday. It was a three-day trip, and you were the one who's driving. The two of you went to the countryside, slept on cheap motels, ate at old diners, and lazed around wherever you liked. You both stopped at a quiet lake, where he took a photo of you for the first time. You were smiling, with your eyes crinkled with amusement. That was the day when he realized he loved you more than he let on. At a Chinese shop near the hotel you both stayed in, he brought you a jade ring in lavender color. You kissed him senselessly once you received it, turning him drunk with the only kind of affection that he knew—on the bed, two bodies tangled, with heavy breaths filling into every corner of the room.

Perhaps the only time you've ever been honest to him, was the ninth time you marred him with false hope. He was lying on the bed with you in his arms, when you suddenly asked him of what they'd become. He furrowed his brows, as he lifted his head to look at you.

"We can be anything you want." He answered.

"What do you want us to become?" You asked him again.

"I want us to be married."

Your eyes widened, before a laughter erupted from your lips. "It's not possible, I'm the daughter of a politician."

"Run away with me, then." He replied, with a certainty in his tone, "We can live together, just you and I."

"My father would catch us in no time."

"We can leave the country, change our names, and live somewhere quiet."

You looked at him with an amused smile, and a strange sense of pity that he could only decipher once he lost his naivety.

"Do you think we'll be happy living like that?"

He shrugged, "Maybe. But I know I'll be happy with you."

You chuckled at him, before you gave him a kiss. "I hope you never change, Simon."

You didn't mean it, but he didn't know better. You made him believe that you were capable of love, and he gladly took it as a promise.

And he was happy, he was happy that you're happy with him, at least that's what it seemed. He thought they'd stay that way, until you maimed his heart for the last time.

He was in the kitchen when you told him that it's over, that you could no longer keep this going. He could only listen as you confessed to him about your engagement with a man of your father's choice. He felt his heart twist as you said that it's inevitable, and there's nothing he could change. You shouted at him when he grabbed you by your wrist and demanded you to think it over. We can run away together, we can leave the country, just stay with me. But you shoved him away, telling him things that you knew would hurt him. You forced him out of your apartment and slammed the door in his face. He convinced himself that everything would be fine by tomorrow morning, and you'd change your mind once you realized that you loved him. But when he came in the next day, he found your place had been emptied. He searched for you—even just a trace of you—in every room, only to find a single ring on the table.

And just like that, you disappeared from his life. Leaving him with a self he no longer recognized.

You left such an imprint on him, that you ruined him for another love. But you, no part of him stayed with you. You slipped his ring off your finger just as easy as you slipped away from him.

He never saw you again, and never once did he not think of you in a day.

Years would pass, and he'd keep on searching for your face in the crowd. It became a habit of him, as he'd look around, wishing to catch even just a glimpse of you. Until he found you everywhere, in the train station.

You were on the front page of every newspaper, with a man beside you. A promising man, with a promising career in politics. You were smiling, but it wasn't the grin you used to show. When he unfolded the newspaper, he noticed the little accessory on your fourth finger. It's no longer made of the lavender jade—rather, it's a silver one, with a diamond adorning the top.

A mark of someone else's possession.

And a proof that you're never his.