#there’s an eye for each voice if you pay attention!

[stellarmoth01]

We are a path in the woods. We have no beginning, and we have no end…

Are you a path in the woods? Are you a body? Can you even grasp the fuzziest edges of the shapes that confine you?

Uncropped no background version! Because I really like this design for awakened long quiet

[rafecameronssl4t]

Leo is born || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the long awaited fic of Leo's birth!

Warnings: complications with childbirth, allusion to ppd.

Word count: 1,190

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The hospital room was anything but calm—machines beeping, nurses and doctors moving quickly, their faces strained with focus. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. You were drenched in sweat, each contraction crashing over you like a violent wave, sharper and more relentless than the last.

Hours had blurred together in an agonising haze, the pain unyielding, your body caught in a merciless cycle that showed no sign of easing. The baby was still in the wrong position, and every minute that passed felt like a lifetime. You were struggling to breathe through the pain, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe paced at the edge of the room, running his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with worry. His shirt was crumpled, half tucked in, half hanging loose, as if he had dressed in a rush and didn’t care how he looked.

For once, his usually cool, composed demeanour was completely shattered. His gaze flicked between you and the doctors, desperation and helplessness etched across his face. He had no control here, and it was driving him mad. Another contraction hit, and you let out a sharp cry, your body trembling. Your hands clenched around the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

Rafe was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand. But his touch wasn’t soft or reassuring—it was tight, as if he were trying to hold on to his own fraying sanity. “Rafe…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, your voice cracking. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

His gaze flicked to the doctors, his blue eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was low, tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Why aren’t you doing something?” One of the doctors—a calm, composed man in his forties—tried to explain.

“Mr. Cameron, we’re monitoring the situation. The baby is in a breech position, and we’re assessing the safest way to proceed without—” Rafe cut him off, his voice rising, sharp and angry. “I’m not paying you thousands of dollars to asses the situation! Do something now! She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for hours, and you're just standing around doing nothing!”

His hand gripped yours tighter, though he didn’t even seem aware of it, his focus entirely on the medical staff. You could see the way the doctors exchanged looks—professional, calm, but there was a flicker of unease in their expressions. They were used to pressure, but not the kind of raw, unfiltered anger that Rafe was radiating.

“Mr. Cameron, I understand you’re upset, but we have to ensure the safety of both your wife and the baby. A C-section is becoming increasingly likely, but we have to wait for the right moment.” Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The right moment? My wife is screaming in pain, and you're telling me to wait for the right moment?”

Another contraction hit, and your hand instinctively tightened around his. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as the pain shot through your entire body. Rafe’s attention snapped back to you, and for a brief moment, the anger in his face softened, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb trembling as it touched your skin.“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, though the strain in his voice betrayed the fear simmering beneath the surface. “I’m right here.”“Rafe,” you gasped, voice cracking, “I can’t… it hurts so much.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. But he didn’t. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his words barely above a whisper. “I know, I know… I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Just—just hold on, okay? You’re so strong. You’re doing so good.”

But the second the contraction eased, his head whipped back toward the doctors, fury burning in his eyes again. “Do something! Now! I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care what it takes. Just help her!” One of the nurses, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. “We’re preparing for a C-section, Mr. Cameron. We need just a few more minutes to make sure everything is ready.”

“You’ve had hours,” Rafe snapped. His voice was dangerously low now, the calm before the storm. “If anything happens to her—or to my son—it’s on you. Do you understand me?” You could feel his anger vibrating through his body, his hand trembling in yours. He was terrified, but he didn’t know how to express it except through rage.

And yet, even through the haze of pain, you could see that his fury wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He was helpless in a situation he couldn’t control, and it was killing him. Before you could say anything else, the doctor spoke up, his tone firm but professional. “We’re ready for the C-section. We’re going to take good care of both of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked back to the doctor, his jaw still clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned back to you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, trying to offer you the only comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost pleading. “You’re so strong, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” The next moments were a blur. The pain, the fear, the cold sterility of the operating room.

But Rafe never left your side. Even through his anger, through his fear, he stayed with you, his hand in yours, his eyes locked on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. And when Leo’s first cry pierced the room, Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s here.” You let out a breath of relief. “Here,” a nurse approaches with your newborn son, freshly cleaned and swaddled. “Hm?” Your voice is distant as she gently places him on your chest. The weight of him feels foreign, almost surreal. You suck in a shallow breath, your shaky hand reaching up to stroke his delicate back, but you pull it away, unable to hold it there for more than a second.

The room feels heavy, and a hollow ache settles deep within your chest. You avert your eyes, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Can I… Can I just rest?” Your voice cracks. “I-I want to rest right now.” The nurses exchange quiet glances, their eyes flicking toward Rafe, who is watching you closely, trying to understand the distance in your expression. His brows knit together in concern, but after a beat, he nods slowly, saying nothing, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s waiting for you to come back to yourself.

[pedroscurls]

Hugh x younger gf (always age appropriate, 30s-55).

Hugh and reader hosting a bbq with friends and reader in super horny as she sees Hugh's sweat glow under the light of the fire

sneak away with me

summary: you sneak away with hugh during a party. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 2.2k warnings: smut (unprotected p in v sex, creampie, manhandling, dirty talk, oral - m receiving, doggy style, light spanking) a/n: ugh, i need this man bad. thank you to this anon for requesting this. i know i have more requests to get to, but i just needed some good hugh smut for my delulu mind (btw - this isn't proofread, so apologies for any typos!!!)

You can’t help but stare at Hugh. He’s talking with Shawn and Ryan at the grill, laughing with a drink in his hand and a spatula in the other. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, his arms flexing with each movement and you have to bite your lower lip at the sight of the fabric stretching around his muscles. 

The heat of the grill radiates off of him, a sheen of sweat trickling down the side of his neck as it disappears into the collar of his white t-shirt. He’s smiling and laughing – nose scrunching with each chuckle. Hugh seems so relaxed, so calm, but you… You can’t take your eyes off of him. You ended up tuning out the people you’re standing next to, eyes solely focused on Hugh. 

You and Hugh had decided to throw a casual barbeque with a handful of close friends, and especially after the success of Deadpool & Wolverine, you knew that Hugh needed this. To just relax and be around a group of people that keep him grounded. 

His eyes move towards you, flashing you a large smile as he brings his martini glass to his lips. Hugh’s eyes never leave you as he gazes at you from afar, from the rim of his glass. He knows that look you have on your face. He can see the way your eyes are ogling him, making it clearly obvious (to him) that you want him. Need him. 

Hugh excuses himself from the conversation and makes his way towards you, never once breaking the gaze. You want to walk towards him, want to just jump into his arms, but instead, you let him come to you. 

The people you were speaking with slowly walk away, giving you and Hugh some much needed personal time once he’s standing next to you. His hand rests on your lower back as he turns his head to give you a kiss at your temple, lingering for a moment to whisper. 

“You’re starin’, y’know that?” he says against your ear. 

“How can I not?” you respond, moving a hand to rest on his chest. “Do you see how good you look? And then to top it off, you’re standing in front of the grill all slick and sweaty and–”

Hugh’s low growl interrupts you mid-sentence. His lips are still near your ear as he subtly dips down to nibble at your earlobe. “This party is gonna go on for a few more hours and–”

“Take me upstairs,” you interrupt him. “They can mingle for a while. Ryan and Shawn can handle the grill.”

“You can’t wait for a few more hours?” Hugh asks, pulling back to look down at you. 

You’re gazing up at him, batting your eyelashes in his direction as you gnaw at your lower lip. “If you don’t take me upstairs, I’m gonna go up there myself and take care of it on my own,” you threaten.

Hugh’s gaze darkens as his hand dips lower to rest just above your backside. “Oh, baby, you and I both know you won’t be able to take care of it yourself.”

Your eyes narrow. “Well, you can stay down here and I’ll excuse myself from the party for a moment.” You turn on your heel, beginning to walk back inside the home you share with Hugh before he reaches for your wrist to pull you to him. You glance around, noticing that your guests aren’t even paying attention to you and Hugh. 

“Get on up there,” Hugh whispers, voice low and husky. “And when I get up there, you better be on your knees.” 

“Or what?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Oh, you’ll find out. Now, get on up there.” Hugh releases his grip on you and watches you walk back inside the house as his eyes drift down to your backside. He feels his manhood stir awake, beginning to press itself against the fabric of his jeans. He gives it a few more minutes before he walks over to Ryan and Shawn, asking them to watch the grill for a moment.

“Oh, we saw the way she was looking at you,” Ryan winks. “Go get her, tiger.”

Hugh rolls his eyes and walks back inside the house, ascending the stairs and skipping a step to get to the second floor quicker. He approaches the bedroom and opens the door, seeing you lying back on the mattress instead of on your knees like he asked you to. 

“What are you doing?” Hugh asks, shutting the door behind him as he reaches for his belt and begins undoing them. “You’re not on your knees and I thought I said–”

“Wanted to lie down,” you interrupt him, leaning up on your elbows as you watch undo the button of his pants and then unzip the zipper. 

“Get on your knees,” Hugh demands, walking towards you.

“Can you say please?” you tease, biting your lower lip. You know you’re playing a dangerous game, but you’re horny and you need him to split you in half. 

Hugh growls and shakes his head as he pushes his jeans and boxers down in one motion. His cock springs at attention, already leaking at the tip. 

“If anyone’s gonna be doing the begging, baby, it’s gonna be you.” Without waiting for you to respond, Hugh straddles your midsection, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. His cock brushes against your lips and you’re pinned to the bed, Hugh hovering above you. “Be a good girl for me and open up.”

You feel your walls clench, already wet from earlier. You can’t play this game any longer and part your lips for him. He holds your wrists against the bed with one hand, using his free hand to grasp himself at his base and directs the head of his cock past your lips. 

“Suck,” Hugh demands. He’s careful not to put any weight on you as his knees are at either side of your chest, cock slowly sliding into your warm and wet mouth. When he feels your lips wrap around him tightly, his eyes slowly begin to flutter. He pushes his hips forward, forcing you to take more of him as you stare up at him with an innocent look in your eyes. “There’s my good girl,” he coos, letting out a quiet groan as he feels your tongue swirl around his length. 

His hips slowly begin to move forward, releasing himself to grab a fistful of your hair. He groans, eyes falling shut as his head tilts back as he guides your head along his manhood. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his grip around your wrist tightening. You’ve always loved doing this for him, seeing him completely at your mercy, even though you’re the one pinned to the bed. You hollow your cheeks as you pull back from his length and then lower your head back, feeling him begin to hit the back of your throat. You let out a quiet gag, tears stinging your eyes as Hugh moans. 

He pulls away abruptly, looking down at you as his cock is slick with your saliva. He moves down your body, forcing himself between your legs as he releases your wrists. Hugh leans down and brushes his lips against yours, growling lowly. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he smirks. “And then maybe you’ll be a good girl for the rest of the party.” 

You whimper, rubbing your legs together with anticipation. “And then you’ll fuck me again later?” 

“Oh, baby,” Hugh grins. “The night is only beginning.” 

Then, he climbs off the bed and grips your waist, turning you onto your stomach with ease. He then moves his hands to your hips, forcing you on all our fours as he lifts the ends of your dress to reveal your lower half, growling to himself at the lack of underwear. 

“You’re not wearing any underwear?” Hugh asks, gripping the base of his cock as he runs his head along the length of your sex. 

You moan, gripping the sheets as you try to push back against him, yearning for him to just slide into you. “N– No…”

“Ah, so you had this planned all along, hm?” Hugh says, pressing his tip to your entrance. “You’re lucky I love you,” he continues, hands gripping your hips as he slams into you without warning. He fills you to the brim, leaning over you as his lips hover against your ear. “Even though you are being bad.” 

“Y– You love it,” you say through quiet moans, trying to remain quiet even though everyone’s outside and away from earshot. 

“You’re right,” Hugh chuckles darkly. “I do like it when you’re bad. Gives me reason to punish you.” He pulls back, fingertips digging into the flesh at your hips as he wastes no time in thrusting into you repeatedly. The sound of skin slapping against one another echoes off the walls of the bedroom and you’re still forcing yourself to remain quiet, hands gripping the bed sheets. “Lemme hear you, baby,” Hugh encourages. 

His thrusts doesn’t let up. He fills you so perfectly, pulling out to his tip only to slam himself back into your warm depths. You know you’re going to be sore after this, but you don’t mind. It will only serve as a reminder of sneaking away with Hugh while hosting a barbeque with friends. 

“Oh god,” you moan aloud, eyes shut tight as you feel yourself begin to tremble. You know you’re close, know that you’re about to reach your high and Hugh knows it too. He then grabs your arms and crosses them behind you, gripping your wrists to hold them against your lower back as you move your cheek to rest on the mattress, backside high in the air for him. 

With his free hand, Hugh delivers a light slap to your ass. He groans to himself, the feeling of your walls tight around his length, milking him with each thrust brings him closer and closer to the edge. It excites him, knowing that he can fill you up with his seed. He likes knowing that you’ll end up squirming long afterwards, a clear sign of his spend pooling out of you. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Hugh moans, the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed in with the sounds of your moans and the wet squelching noise coming from how wet you are. It’s almost filthy and it only drives him further. 

“H– Hugh,” you whimper, your walls beginning to clench around him as you feel your body tremble. “Oh fu–” Hugh releases your hands and grips your arms, pulling you upright to be flush against him. He moves an arm around your frame, gripping your breast over the fabric of your dress as his lips are near your ear. 

“God, baby,” Hugh growls against your lips. “Gripping me so tight, fuck,” Hugh’s hips begin to falter, his other hand reaching down to rub your clit. 

Your entire body is already so sensitive, still riding your climax and you try to claw at Hugh’s wrist, trying to push him away as the sensations become too much.

“Hugh–” you moan. “Baby, I can’t, oh god–”

“Gimme one more, love,” he says softly, breathless and panting against your ear. His grip around your breast tightens as he applies pressure to your clit, moving it in circles and at a pace to time with his thrusts. 

You reach behind you, lacing your fingers into his hair and gripping it tightly as your body shakes against him. You let out a loud moan as your walls tighten once more around his length and you feel him loosen his grip around you, moving his hands to your hips. His hips stutter and you feel his warmth shoot inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

He rolls his hips a few more times before he pulls out, watching his spend slowly begin to drip out of you and down your inner thigh. He growls at the sight and then watches as you move to lie on your abdomen, trying to catch your breath. 

Hugh walks to the bathroom to grab a warm and wet towel to clean you up. You shiver against his touch, looking over your shoulder at him with a lazy smile. 

“You better wear some underwear when we go back out there,” Hugh chuckles. “Or else this is gonna go everywhere.”

“Mmm, I like it,” you smile.

“I like it too, baby.” Hugh smiles, leaning down to peck your lips. “Love knowing that you’re filled of me.” 

You bite your lower lip and look up at him, slowly moving to lie on your back as you gaze into his eyes. “I love you, Hugh.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Do we have to go back out there?” you tease with a quiet laugh.

“Just a few more hours and then it’ll just be me and you,” Hugh promises.

You nod and then stand up once he’s finished cleaning you up, walking to the closet to pull on a pair of panties underneath your dress. When you step out, you see Hugh pull up his pants and boxers, buttoning and zipping it back up as he loops the belt around himself. 

He looks over at you and smiles, walking towards the door and taking your hand with him. 

“Ryan’s definitely going to give you shit,” you laugh, descending the stairs with him and going back out to the backyard to join everyone else.

[gilbertscurls]

Kiss It Better ➵ Chris Sturniolo

You laughed as Chris tossed a handful of popcorn at you, aiming for your face but hitting your shoulder instead. You’ve been watching a movie in his living room, but neither of you had been paying much attention. Chris had been cracking jokes every few minutes, making you laugh so hard you could barely focus on the screen.

“Your aim is terrible,” you teased, throwing a piece of popcorn back at him.

Chris smirked, lounging back against the couch with his arm thrown lazily over the backrest. “You think you can do better?”

You grinned, popping another piece of popcorn into your mouth as you rolled your eyes. “Please, I’m way more skilled.”

Chris leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

You took the challenge, grabbing another handful and launching it at him. Most of it missed, but a few pieces landed in his lap. “See? Skilled.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Impressive.”

As you went to grab another piece for yourself, you felt a sharp pinch of pain. “Ow!” you yelped, your hand flying to your mouth. You pulled your fingers back and winced. “I bit my lip.”

Chris’s teasing expression softened with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It just stings a little.” You pouted dramatically, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “Kiss it to make it better?”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Oh, you want me to kiss it better?”

You flushed a little but didn’t back down, meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. “You heard me.”

For a second, it seemed like the room got quieter, the playful tension between you shifting into something else. Chris shifted closer on the couch, his eyes flickering to your lips and back to your eyes. “Well, if that’s what you want,” he said softly, his voice suddenly more serious.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you swallowed nervously. The teasing atmosphere between you had changed in an instant, and now there was something electric in the air. “I mean… Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Chris leaned in slowly, his face inches from yours. He hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of uncertainty. When he didn’t find any, he closed the gap between you, brushing his lips softly against the spot where you’d bitten yourself.

The touch was gentle, tender, but it sent a jolt through your entire body. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this—like every nerve in your body was suddenly aware of him in a way it hadn’t been before. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours, and the playful smirk from earlier was replaced with something more intense.

“Better?” Chris asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Yeah… Better,” you replied, your voice shaky.

Neither of you moved for a long moment. It was like you were both processing what had just happened, the shift in the dynamic between you. Chris’s gaze dropped to your lips again, and before either of you could second-guess it, he leaned in and kissed you for real this time.

The kiss was soft at first, testing the waters, but when you responded—kissing him back with the same intensity—it deepened. His hand came up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer as your playful banter melted away, replaced by something much more real.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s.

“So… Popcorn and a kiss. Not a bad night,” Chris joked, though his voice was still thick with emotion.

You laughed softly, your heart still racing. “Not bad at all.”

You stayed close, the movie forgotten, and as you sat there in the quiet of the living room, you realized that maybe this was something you’d been waiting for all along. Something that had been building between you for a while, hidden beneath their easy banter and friendship.

“Guess I should bite my lip more often,” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Chris laughed, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “You won’t have to. I’ll kiss you anyway.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom

[mechaknight-98]

Road Trip Part II (NSFW) FT Sana, Tzuyu and Dahyun

Operator’s notes: I got asked to write Sana so I did you all can blame @smutoperator for her personality though

It's late afternoon as we check into the new hotel. You were resting in Nayeon’s lap when I walked up to you. Tzuyu leaned into me as we sat next to you two.

“How's the search going for a new camera guy?”

You groan. “Yes thankfully he should be meeting us here soon.” I nod and say

“Great here’s hoping he's “normal””

“Me Too,” Nayeon says.

The grand lobby of the hotel buzzes with life as guests shuffle in and out, dragging suitcases, talking in hushed tones, and checking in at the sleek marble reception desk. Twice is no different, blending into the backdrop of tourists, businesspeople, and vacationers. The group chats amongst themselves, some yawning after a long flight, while others, like Sana, seem energetic and eager for new experiences.

As they wait for their room keys, Sana restless as ever, absentmindedly wanders away from the group. She’s preoccupied, glancing at her phone when suddenly—

Bump.

She walks straight into the back of a man, causing her phone to slip from her hands. A small gasp escapes her lips as it clatters onto the floor. Before she can react, the man turns around swiftly and kneels, picking up her phone with surprising grace for someone so imposing. She notices his camera pack before she saw the rest of him

"Sorry about that," his deep voice echoes.

Sana blinks, momentarily speechless. The man standing before her is tall—towering, really—broad-shouldered, and muscular, like a wall of strength. His skin glows with a healthy brown, and his eyes, though sharp, soften when they meet hers. A mischievous grin spreads across his lips as he hands her the phone.

“No, it’s my fault,” Sana giggles, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She looks up at him, and for a brief moment, it’s like no one else exists in the bustling hotel. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, I’m not complaining about the distraction,” he says with a charming smirk, his voice low and smooth. “I'm Broly, by the way.”

“Sana.” She bites her lip, trying not to look too flustered. She doesn't even process his name. There’s something magnetic about him, the kind of confidence that turns heads.

They stand there for a beat longer than necessary, the chemistry between them palpable.

“So, are you staying here too?” Sana asks, tilting her head playfully.

“I am now, Got a gig and was told to meet the client,” Broly teases, glancing back toward the reception. “What about you?”

"Just for a few days, on tour with my group." She gestures toward the others, where Tzuyu and Nayeon are busy chatting with you and I, oblivious to the scene unfolding nearby.

Broly's eyes follow her gaze and he raises an eyebrow, clearly recognizing Twice. "Ah, so you're famous."

Sana laughs, waving it off. "Something like that."

Before either of them can continue, Jihyo calls out, “Sana! We’ve got our rooms!”

She turns back to Broly, reluctant to break the moment. “Looks like I have to go. Duty calls.”

Broly gives her a slow nod, his smirk never fading. “I hope we bump into each other again.”

Sana grins, her playful side shining through. “Careful what you wish for.”

As she walks back to join her members, she sneaks a glance over her shoulder, and sure enough, Broly is still watching her, his eyes lingering with amusement. She can’t help but smile to herself as she catches up with the group, who immediately start teasing her.

“Who’s that?” Momo asked intrigued.

Sana gave a flirty smile as blush crept onto her cheeks, “oh just some cutie I bumped into,”

Chaeyoung hopped from behind Momo, “he's tall.” she exclaimed. The rest of twice nodded.

“What’s his name?” Jihyo asked curious.

“Broly,” Sana answers we all look at her and I say the words on everyone’s mind except Sana.

“There’s no way that's his name,” I say incredulously.

Sana shrugs and says, “That's what he told me.”

Chewy and I look at you and Nayeon trying to process what Sana is saying until you roll your eyes.

It’s been about 45 minutes since check-in, and we’re scheduled to meet with the rest of the camera crew. The meeting room is modest but well-equipped, the faint aroma of fresh coffee lingering in the air as you walk in, clipboard in hand. A few camera crew members are already seated, including me, adjusting our equipment and chatting in low voices.

You step up to the front of the room, scanning everyone before tapping the clipboard to get their attention.

“Alright, listen up! We’re finalizing our crew for the next couple of days, and I’ve just confirmed our last addition. He should be joining us any second now,” you announce, glancing at the door.

As if on cue, the door swings open. In steps Broly, his tall, muscular frame immediately commanding attention. He walks over casually, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, exuding a cool confidence. My eyes lift from my camera bag, and recognition flickers across my face.

Sana’s mystery man.

“Oh no,” I mutter with a smirk.

You glance between Broly and me, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wait, don’t tell me—this is the guy from earlier?”

I nod, barely containing a laugh. “Yep, that’s him.”

You turn to Broly, amusement dancing in your eyes. “So, you’re the new camera guy, huh?” You eye him up and down with playful skepticism. “And your name’s… what again?”

Broly doesn’t miss a beat, his signature smirk forming as he confidently replies, “Broly.”

There’s a brief pause, then you chuckle, exchanging a glance with me.

“Broly? Seriously?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “That’s... not what I was expecting.”

I chime in, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah, same here. When Sana told us, I thought for sure she was joking.”

Broly crosses his arms, grin widening as if he’s heard it all before. “It’s a strong name, what can I say?” His tone is light, unfazed by the teasing.

You shake your head, still smiling. “I guess it’s fitting. You do look like you could bench press this entire room.”

I add with a laugh, “Honestly, though, we thought you’d be an anime character or something with a name like that.”

Broly laughs, shrugging. “Well, that’s a story for another time.”

You wave a hand, trying to regain some professionalism. “Alright, alright, enough with the name-roasting. You’re officially on the team, Broly. Let’s see if you can handle the cameras as well as you handle bumping into our members.”

I laugh, leaning forward. “No promises he won’t ‘accidentally’ bump into Sana again.”

Broly shrugs, that smirk still intact.

You roll your eyes, though a grin remains on your face. “Okay, let’s get down to business. We’ve got sound check and prep work for tomorrow’s concert. I’ll be assigning each of you specific members to cover.”

“Dibs on Tzuyu,” I joke, raising a hand, which earns an eye roll from you.

“You’ll have Dahyun,” you retort with a smirk, ignoring my playful pout. You continue giving out roles to the other camera crew members until you get to Broly.

“And as for you, Mr. Davis, you’ll be covering Sana.”

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself. The timing is just too perfect. You shoot me a glare that shuts me up—mostly.

“Is that it?” you ask, eyebrow raised, and I nod, a dumb grin still plastered on my face.

You wrap up the meeting by establishing a group chat for all the camera crew and their assigned members. As the room starts to clear out, I gather my things and make my way to the “school meal club” room to meet with Dahyun, already thinking about how to bring up her good angles and preferences for the shoot.

As the meeting wraps up, the rest of the camera crew trickles out, and I head down the hallway to meet Dahyun. I pass a couple of Twice members along the way—Chaeyoung and Momo chatting quietly by the elevator. As I walk, I can’t help but replay Broly’s introduction in my head, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. Sana’s going to have a field day when she finds out he’s part of the crew.

Reaching the “school meal club” room, I knock lightly before poking my head in. Dahyun is already inside, lounging on one of the chairs, looking through her phone. She glances up with a bright smile.

“Hey! Ready to make me look good?” she asks, half-joking.

“Of course,” I reply, stepping into the room. “But you make my job easy, Dahyun. No bad angles.”

She laughs, waving off the compliment. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

I notice Tzuyu pout slightly as she's stares at Dahyun and I. I set down my camera gear on the nearby table. “So, let’s talk angles and shots. Anything specific you want me to focus on?”

Dahyun tilts her head, thinking for a moment. “Honestly, I trust you. But… maybe some close-ups during sound check, especially when I’m at the piano. I want the fans to really feel the energy in those moments.”

“Got it,” I nod, scribbling a note on my phone. “I’ll make sure to catch the big moments. Anything else?”

She stands up, stretching a little. “That should cover it. Oh, and maybe if you can get some cool behind-the-scenes stuff when we’re not performing. The fans love that.”

“I’ll get some candid shots for sure,” I promise.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. I turn around to see Broly standing in the doorway, hands casually in his pockets. His broad frame takes up most of the door, but there’s that signature smirk on his face again.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Bench-Press-the-World,” I quip, giving him a mock salute.

Broly chuckles, stepping inside. “I thought I’d come by and get a feel for how things are running here. You're the only other American and I asked Mark. he might’ve mentioned you were up here.”

Dahyun perks up, glancing between the two of us. “Wait, this is the new guy? You're the guy Sana was already talking about you earlier.”

Broly raises his hands in mock innocence. “Can’t help it. People talk.”

I shake my head with a grin. “Yeah, and you’re already causing quite the stir.”

Dahyun crosses her arms, looking him up and down with an impressed nod. “Well, welcome to the crew, Broly. I hope you’ve got some serious camera skills to back up that name.”

Broly laughs, the sound deep and unbothered. “I think I can manage. Just let me know if I need to ‘accidentally’ bump into anyone for a better shot.”

I roll my eyes, shooting Dahyun a look. “See? This is what we’re dealing with now.”

She giggles, obviously entertained by the banter. “Honestly, I think you’ll fit right in. We’ve got plenty of personalities around here, so don’t worry.”

Broly nods, his playful demeanor never faltering. “Good to know. But speaking of fitting in,” he glances at me, “we’ve got sound check in a bit, right? Might be a good time to test out those camera angles.”

I check my watch and nod. “Yeah, we should head down soon. You can get a feel for the layout, and I’ll start grabbing some of those behind-the-scenes shots.”

Dahyun claps her hands together. “Perfect! Let’s make this tour look good!”

With that, the three of us head toward the venue. As we walk, I glance sideways at Broly. Despite his larger-than-life presence, he’s surprisingly easygoing, the kind of guy who could charm his way through any situation. And as much as I teased him earlier, I can’t deny he seems to fit in with the team already.

When we arrive at the concert hall, the stage is being set up for the sound check. Twice is scattered around, some testing their mics, others chatting with staff. The air buzzes with the pre-concert energy, a mix of anticipation and professionalism. I spot Tzuyu adjusting her earpiece and wave over to her before setting up my camera. She smiles before doing The TT pose and fake crying as she gets ready. I smile and mouth, “it will be fine,” which makes her smiley

I catch Dahyun’s eye and nod toward the piano setup. “Ready when you are,” I call out.

She gives me a thumbs-up, and I get into position, carefully framing the shot. As I start snapping photos, I hear Broly chuckle beside me.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, watching the scene unfold.

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Just wait. This is the easy part. Let’s see how you handle the chaos later.”

Broly just grins, his confidence radiating as he slings his camera strap over his shoulder. “Bring it on,” he says, his tone light but competitive.

I narrow my eyes, smirking. “Alright, tough guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Without missing a beat, I position myself to capture Dahyun, who’s testing her mic and casually chatting with some of the staff. She looks up just as I snap a shot, and I catch the perfect candid smile. Broly, not to be outdone, turns his attention to Sana, who’s adjusting her earpiece while chatting with Momo. The race begins—both of us moving fluidly around the stage, clicking away with our cameras as Twice moves through their pre-show routine.

It starts subtle—just a friendly rivalry between two photographers, trying to outdo one another. But it doesn’t take long before Sana and Dahyun catch on.

Dahyun, ever observant, notices me darting around, trying to get the best shots. A mischievous smile spreads across her face. She sidles up to me, her gaze twinkling with playfulness. “You working hard or hardly working?” she teases, her voice soft and lilting.

I laugh, glancing down at my camera. “I’m working, but you’re making it hard to focus.”

She giggles, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. “Well, let’s make it interesting, then.”

Before I can reply, Dahyun blows me a kiss, her hand lifting to her lips before sending the playful gesture in my direction. My heart stumbles in my chest, and for a moment, I forget to take the next shot. Was I falling for her? That innocent charm of hers was disarming, and the way she looked at me made my pulse race. I try to refocus, but she’s already got me flustered, and she knows it.

Meanwhile, across the stage, Sana is upping the ante with Broly. She’s never been one to shy away from playful flirtation, and with Broly, she’s in her element. Her eyes lock onto him, sultry and intense, and she flashes him a smirk as she adjusts her hair. With the subtlety of a seasoned flirt, she begins to move just a little slower, letting her hips sway in a way that makes Broly visibly stiffen, his camera shaking ever so slightly.

“Enjoying the view?” Sana teases as she passes him, her voice low, a hint of laughter behind it.

Broly coughs, caught off guard for a moment, but recovers quickly, shooting her a grin. “Just trying to capture perfection,” he replies, the smoothness of his words hiding his flustered state. But Sana can see right through him.

Dahyun, not one to let Sana out-flirt her, ups her own game. During a break in the sound check, she takes a seat on a speaker, swinging her legs playfully and sending me a sweet, almost shy smile that makes my knees go weak. “Am I doing okay?” she asks in the softest voice, tilting her head just slightly.

“You’re perfect,” I mutter, barely realizing I said it out loud until Dahyun’s smile turns into a victorious grin.

Just as the playful flirting intensifies, Sana goes all-in. She drifts behind Broly during a quiet moment, her eyes lingering on him with a smoldering intensity. Broly tries to stay focused, but Sana isn’t making it easy. She leans in just enough so her perfume lingers in the air between them, her lips curving into a sensual smile as she glances over her shoulder at him.

“How’s the shot from back here?” she asks, her voice sultry, as she takes a slow step away, her hand brushing against his arm.

Broly’s eyes widen for a second, and he quickly lifts his camera, trying to hide the fact that he’s completely flustered. “It’s, uh, great,” he stammers, though the way his camera fumbles slightly betrays his nerves.

The competition between Dahyun and Sana escalates—both playing to their strengths. Dahyun’s innocent, cute approach makes my heart race as she flirts with subtle winks and shy glances, while Sana goes full-on seductress, leaning into her confidence and charm to completely disarm Broly.

The tension builds, and it doesn’t take long for the other Twice members to notice. Momo nudges Jihyo, pointing subtly toward Sana and Dahyun, who are now so wrapped up in their playful competition that it’s almost distracting the whole crew. Jihyo, ever the leader, raises an eyebrow, clearly amused but knowing she needs to step in.

Jihyo walks over, her hands on her hips, shaking her head with a half-smile. “Alright, you two. I know you’re trying to give these poor guys heart attacks, but we’ve got work to do.”

Dahyun, in mid-flirt, blushes slightly, biting her lip to hold back a laugh. Sana, on the other hand, just grins mischievously, shrugging as if she’s innocent in all of this. “What? We’re just having fun,” Sana says, her voice playful.

Broly and I exchange a glance, both of us trying to maintain our composure, but it’s clear we’ve been thoroughly rattled.

“Fun is great, but I don’t need my camera crew passing out before the concert,” Jihyo says with mock sternness. “Save some of that for later, maybe?”

I cough, finally regaining my voice. “Yeah, I think we’ve had enough flirting for one sound check.”

Dahyun giggles, standing up from her seat and giving me one last playful wink. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good.”

Sana, ever the provocateur, shoots Broly one final look. “For now,” she teases, before sauntering off to join the other members.

As they both walk away, Broly lets out a low breath, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, you weren’t kidding. This job comes with a whole lot more than just taking pictures.”

I laugh, still trying to shake off the effect of Dahyun’s flirting. “Yeah, welcome to the team. Good luck surviving it.”

The rest of the sound check goes smoothly, but in the in-between moments, Dahyun and I can’t help but chat. As we talk, I discover we share more in common than I expected. Both preacher’s kids, both passionate about our art, and we even have a similar sense of humor. Every time she laughs at one of my jokes, it feels like a little spark, pulling me closer to her.

“Did you ever have to perform at church?” I ask, curious about her upbringing.

“All the time!” she replies, her eyes shining with excitement. “I think I was born on stage. My dad used to drag me up to sing when I was, like, five.”

“Seriously? That’s adorable,” I say, grinning at the thought. “I can imagine you stealing the spotlight even back then.”

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and she looks down, playing with a strand of her hair. “Well, I might have been a bit of a show-off,” she admits, glancing back at me with a playful smile.

Just then, Sana and Broly approach us, interrupting our moment. “Hey lovebirds,” Sana teases, her voice dripping with mischief as she leans into Broly, who chuckles at the playful jab.

Dahyun and I exchange a quick, embarrassed glance, our faces heating up. “We’re not—” I stammer, but Sana cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, please, you both are practically glowing. It’s cute.” She nudges Broly, who smirks knowingly.

Broly grins, crossing his arms. “If they are lovebirds, does that make us a flock?” He leans closer to Sana, who laughs and playfully kisses his nose, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“Broly is definitely the strong, silent type,” Sana says, smirking at him. “But he can definitely be charming when he wants to be.”

“Charm is overrated,” Broly replies, a playful challenge in his tone. “I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves.”

Meanwhile, Dahyun leans closer to me, her eyes sparkling. “So, DJ, do you have any secret talents we should know about?” she asks, her voice soft but teasing.

I chuckle, feeling the heat rise again. “Well, I can juggle, but only when I’m nervous,” I reply, glancing at her with a playful grin. “Maybe I’ll show you later.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that!” she giggles, nudging me lightly with her shoulder.

As we continue to banter, I notice Sana and Broly leaning into each other, their chemistry undeniably electric. Broly catches Sana’s gaze, and without missing a beat, he says, “I bet I could out-juggle you anytime, Sana.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Sana replies, her eyes twinkling. “You might want to think twice about that.”

“Bring it on,” he smirks, clearly enjoying their playful competition.

Amidst all this, Dahyun suddenly leans in a bit closer to me, her shoulder brushing against mine, sending a jolt through me. “So, DJ,” she says, her voice dropping slightly, “how do you feel about working with a bunch of divas?”

I laugh lightly, meeting her gaze. “I think I’m in over my head, but I’m here for it,” I reply, the tension between us palpable.

Just then, as I watch Dahyun’s playful smile, I see her blow me a quick kiss, and my heart skips a beat. Was I really falling for her?

In contrast, Sana’s flirtation with Broly intensifies as she begins to dance behind him, giving him sultry looks that make him chuckle and blush. Their playful competition fills the space with energy, drawing the attention of the other members, who watch with amusement.

However, amidst all the fun, Tzuyu stands a little farther away, observing the scene unfold. As she sees Dahyun and I laughing together, an unfamiliar feeling stirs in her stomach. It’s a mix of warmth and something else—something she can’t quite place, but it reminds her of the way she feels about DJ. A hint of confusion flickers in her eyes as she watches, unable to shake the sensation of jealousy and intrigue.

After the soundcheck, I meet up with Tzuyu who bears an expression that is a mix of confusion worry, and something I can't place. She drags me back to my room and says,

“I saw you with Dahyun today,”

Instantly I felt scummy bit Chewy’s eyes flickered with a heat that I didn't recognize. She kissed me and the heat in the kiss is fiery. Chewy pauses for a bit and says, “Please tell me you won't leave me,” I see the pleading in her eyes before confidently saying never. Chewy smiles before kissing me again and removing my clothes.

“Good!” Tzuyu moans as she undresses. She pins me to the bed and mounts me. She slowly grinds on me and I watch as rides me with poise and precision. Her modest tits bounce and I reach up to grab them Tzuyu’s eyes focus on me as she smiles while I massage her breasts. Her walls tighten around me as she continues her “joyride” A moment later I bring Tzuyu in for a kiss as I cup her face. Tzuyu smiles and moans into the kiss.

“You always make me feel so special,” she rasps and I smile before confirming that she is special.

Tzuyu then decided she'd had enough of the slow stuff before she picked up the pace. She rides me faster and faster as she chases her high then when it crashes into her she moans out “Dahyun.” I am so confused that I instantly go soft on her. Tzuyu smiled and then said that was so good before kissing my cheek and cuddling next to me. She got a comfy good night’s rest but I was up the whole night.

The next morning I get up early to talk to you hoping to make sense of last night. as I go looking for you to discuss what happened last night I bump into Sana.

“Hi Dj. How are you?” she asks happy. I shrug which Sana takes notice of.

“Trouble in paradise with Chewy?” she asks. I shake my head and explain,

“No Sana its just weird. I was with Tzuyu last night and she called out for Dahyun. Sana looks at me confused until it clicks.

“Oh I guess it's time again.”

“Time for what?”

“Okay so this may be hard to believe but Tzuyu might have a crush on Dahyun,”

I nodded at Sana’s words stunned, “You are right that is hard to believe.”

“Well neither will admit it but they both have massive crushes on each other, and I think you are their full manifestation of that, because what Chewy likes about Dahyun she sees in you and what Dahyun likes in Chewy she also sees in you. So have fun and enjoy the roller coaster ,” Sana explains then teases which confuses me even more. Sana notices this confusion laughs and says, “Don't worry about it DJ too much. I think you should just go with the flow and let them figure their feelings out.”

I nod confused still and Sana smiles before giving me a big sister-type hug.

“It's okay Dj no matter what happens you'll be fine I promise. Now if you'll excuse me I have a photographer to unravel. Do you know which one of these rooms is Broly’s?” Sana says with a hungry look in her eye. I point to Broly’s room and she smiles before saying “fighting” to encourage me before knocking on his door.

As I walk away to grab food for myself and Tzuyu, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of Sana's excitement. Moments later, I hear the faint sound of a door opening and then a playful voice.

“Hey, Broly!” Sana greets as she steps into his room.

Broly blinks at her, still slightly groggy. He notices she’s wearing an oversized hoodie that swallows her frame, the fabric hanging off her shoulders in a way that’s both cozy and inviting.

“Huh? This is a surprise. What's with the hoodie fit?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as she skips over to the couch.

Sana’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she plops down, watching him with an intensity that makes him sit up a little straighter. “I like you, and I want you to be mine,” she declares, her voice playful yet earnest.

Broly blinks, taken aback. “We just met,” he exclaims, confusion washing over his features.

“And in that short time, I realized I like you and want to date you,” she continues, sensing his hesitation. Quick to reinforce her words, she leans in, her doe eyes wide and earnest. “Do you not like me?”

Caught off guard, Broly’s defenses drop a notch. “No, I’d love to date you. It’s just… why me?”

Sana suppresses a smirk, pleased that her charm is working. “Well, you’re funny, tough, and handsome. You give me good vibes, so why not?” Her smile is bright and infectious, but there’s a glint in her eye that suggests something deeper.

Broly laughs, clearly flattered. “Okay then, sure.”

Sana beams at him, a triumphant grin lighting up her face. “Yay!” But then, as if a switch flips, her expression shifts. The playful spark in her eyes deepens, and she leans forward slightly, her posture suddenly exuding confidence and intent. “First, some ground rules. I won't be sharing you with anyone.”

The atmosphere in the room thickens, and Broly’s brows furrow, taken aback by the abrupt shift. “Uh, okay…”

Sana’s voice drops to a sultry whisper, her eyes locking onto his with a predatory focus. “I’m serious, Broly. I don’t do love triangles or sharing. If we’re together, it’s just us.” The way she leans in makes Broly feel both exhilarated and slightly uneasy, the intensity of her gaze making his heart race.

He nods slowly, processing the sudden depth of her request. “Right, noted.”

“I want to go on cute dates as often as we can,” she continues, her demeanor oscillating between playful and commanding. “But I also want you to know that if anyone tries to come between us, they’ll have to deal with me.” She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that sends a shiver down Broly’s spine.

“What do you mean by ‘deal with you’?” he asks, half-laughing, half-worried.

Sana straightens up, her playful facade slightly cracking as she leans back, letting the intensity linger. “I’m not afraid to fight for what I want, Broly. I’m serious about this.”

The air between them crackles with unspoken possibilities, and Broly finds himself both fascinated and intimidated. This isn’t the playful girl he met earlier; this is someone entirely different—assertive, confident, and fiercely determined.

As Sana inches closer, her playful smirk returning, he realizes that he’s drawn to this side of her, even if it’s a bit daunting. “Okay, I can handle that,” he replies, though his voice wavers slightly.

“Good,” she says, her tone lightening again, but the underlying tension remains palpable. “Just remember, I’m not just a cute girl in a hoodie. I know what I want.”

Broly nods, feeling the weight of her words settle in. “I get that. I’m just... surprised.”

Sana leans back, crossing her arms with a satisfied smile. “Surprised is good. Keeps things interesting, right?”

He can’t help but grin at her, feeling a rush of adrenaline. This playful game between them is becoming more intriguing by the second.

Sana stood up and removed her hoodie to reveal a dark black and crimson lingerie set with a garter belt.

“And lastly I need you to keep up when you fuck me.” her voice was dripped with lust and desire. She sashayed over to Broly who sat stunned as she started grinding her crotch on Broly’s before giving him a whorish kiss

She pulls Broly’s shorts down revealing his cock that eagerly plops on her face. Sana’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I knew you were big Sana moans,” as she palms his BBC. She can't even fully wrap her hand around it. She smiles as she starts stroking him. Her pace is deliberate and intense as she wants to get him as big and as hard for her as possible. Broly groans surprised and horny as Sana has her way with him. As she pushed him to the bed she noticed that Broly had a very specific air

“Oh, are you a virgin?” Sana asked as she slowed her pace. Broly nodded and Sana’s eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh you're telling me Im the first to touch you like this?”

Sana licked her lips as the burning hunger she felt in her womb began to drive her feral. She lined up her dripping pussy with Broly’s cock and sinks down on it.

“Oh fuck you’re gonna split me in half,” Sana moans. Broly is helplessly overwhelmed by all these new sensations and immediately cums inside of Sana. She howls as his semen fills her. She looks down seeing his blissed out face and runs her hands over burly brolic body and cooes “oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you,” she says before getting off of him. Broly apologizes for cumming so early and Sana sweetly whispers to him

“It’s okay baby. We’ll work on our stamina together because I could barely get you inside of me how big are you like 7 inches long and 3 inches thick?”

Broly chuckles and replied “9 by 4 inches.”

Sana’s eyes widen and she says “I’m gonna start calling you Anaconda because fuck your huge.” Broly smiles as Sana kisses his cheek.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, with another practice session scheduled in the late afternoon. I’m tasked with taking more photos, my camera hanging around my neck as I move quietly around the room, capturing the group’s energy. Everything is supposed to be professional—just another day on the job.

But then there’s Dahyun.

She’s dancing near the back of the group, her usual bright energy filling the room. Every now and then, I catch her glancing my way, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It’s like she knows exactly how to pull me in without even trying.

I focus my lens on her, zooming in as she takes a break to adjust her hair. Through the camera, I can see her smile slowly creeping up when she notices me aiming at her.

"Are you sure you’re supposed to be photographing me this much?” she teases, her voice playful but quiet enough not to disturb the others.

I lower the camera slightly, giving her a grin. “You keep finding my lens. Hard to resist a good shot.”

She laughs softly, crossing her arms with a mock-serious look. “Are you saying I’m your best subject?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my heart skips a beat. “You do make my job pretty easy.”

Dahyun’s smile grows as she tilts her head, giving me a cute pout. “Hmm, are you flirting with me again, DJ?”

I freeze for a moment, but then I chuckle. “Who, me? I’m just stating facts. You’re always flirting first.”

Her eyes widen in feigned innocence, her hand lightly pressing to her chest. “Me? Flirting? I’d never!”

I raise an eyebrow, lowering my camera entirely now. “Uh-huh. Like earlier, when you asked me to ‘get your good side,’ knowing full well every side is your good side?”

Dahyun giggles, taking a step closer to me, her eyes bright with amusement. “I can’t help it if I’m photogenic. But I think you just like taking pictures of me.”

I smirk, leaning in just slightly, my voice lowering to match her teasing tone. “Maybe I do.”

For a moment, our eyes lock, and I swear the rest of the room fades away. She’s standing just close enough that I can smell her perfume, something light and sweet that messes with my focus.

Before I can say anything else, Dahyun leans forward, her voice soft but dripping with playful intent. “You know, DJ, if you keep flirting like this, people might start talking.”

I laugh nervously, trying to keep my cool. “Let them talk. I’m just trying to get good pictures.”

“Is that all you’re trying to do?” Dahyun asks, her voice smooth, eyes sparkling as if she knows exactly what she's doing to me.

I blink, caught off guard by her boldness. She steps even closer, her playful expression giving way to something a little more sincere.

“Relax, DJ,” she whispers, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just messing with you.”

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. “Oh, I know. I just... wasn’t expecting you to be so good at it.”

Dahyun winks, biting her lower lip playfully. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The moment stretches between us, the banter flowing so naturally that I almost forget where we are. I lift my camera back up, trying to break the tension, but it doesn’t work. It’s still there, hanging in the air between us—undeniable.

I snap a few more shots, but my mind isn’t on the work anymore. It’s on her, on how easy it is to talk to her, to joke around like this. We just *click* in a way I can’t explain, and that thought both excites and terrifies me.

She catches me looking at her again, and this time, her smile is softer, almost shy. “Careful,” she says, “you’re gonna run out of film if you keep snapping pictures of me.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Good thing this camera’s digital.”

She laughs too, the sound light and infectious, and I can’t help but join in. Every word, every laugh—it feels effortless. Natural.

As the practice winds down and the members start to pack up, I tell myself I’ll keep it professional tomorrow. I’ll keep my distance, focus on the work.

But then Dahyun throws me a wink as she heads toward the exit, and I know that’s not going to happen.

It’s late afternoon, and Twice has just finished rehearsing for the day. The members slowly filter out of the practice room, some heading to the hotel while others linger to chat or stretch. Tzuyu, her heart heavy with a mixture of emotions, lingers behind, eyes darting toward Dahyun, who is laughing with me as Broly and I gather our camera equipment.

Tzuyu’s chest tightens as she watches Dahyun’s bright smile and carefree nature around me. She takes a deep breath and approaches Dahyun just as I excuse myself to adjust my camera for the next shoot.

“Dahyun,” Tzuyu calls out, her voice soft but firm.

Dahyun turns around, her usual playful energy dimming a little at the seriousness in Tzuyu’s tone. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Tzuyu hesitates, not quite sure how to begin. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Can we talk? Alone?”

Sensing the tension, Dahyun frowns but nods. “Of course.” The two of them move to a quieter corner of the room, away from the lingering staff.

“What’s going on?” Dahyun asks, concern evident in her voice.

Tzuyu takes a breath, her gaze dropping to the floor before she finally speaks. “Can you... stop flirting with DJ?”

Dahyun blinks, surprised. “What? What are you talking about?”

Tzuyu clenches her fists at her sides, struggling to keep her composure. “I see the way you look at him, Dahyun. The way you’re always laughing and... it just feels like you’re...”

“Like I’m what?” Dahyun’s brow furrows, her confusion growing. “I don’t flirt with DJ. We’re just—”

“Friends?” Tzuyu cuts in, her voice rising in frustration. “That’s not how it looks to me!”

Dahyun’s expression shifts, a mixture of hurt and defensiveness crossing her face. “Why are you getting so worked up about this, Tzuyu? DJ and I are close, sure, but that doesn’t mean anything. Why are you suddenly acting like this?”

Tzuyu’s heart pounds in her chest, the jealousy she’s been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. “Because I care about him! And... I don’t know if you’re just playing around or if you’re serious, but it’s confusing. For him and for me.”

Dahyun’s eyes narrow, her voice soft but pointed. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried about *him*? Or is it something else?”

Tzuyu falters, her resolve crumbling as she struggles to articulate her emotions. “I just... I don’t want you to hurt him.”

Dahyun’s voice is softer now, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “Tzuyu, I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s a good guy, and I like spending time with him. But why are you acting like you’re the only one who cares about him? What’s really going on here?”

Tzuyu shakes her head, biting her lip. She feels the weight of her unsaid feelings, pressing against her chest, threatening to spill out. She turns away, not wanting Dahyun to see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Tzuyu...” Dahyun steps forward, her tone gentler now, almost tender. “Why are you so upset?”

“I don’t know!” Tzuyu exclaims, her frustration boiling over. She turns back to Dahyun, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why it hurts so much when I see you with him! And I don’t know why I care so much about who makes him happy. Maybe because... because...”

Dahyun steps closer, her own heart racing now, as if some unspoken truth is on the verge of breaking free. “Because why?”

“Because *I’m* the one who’s confused!” Tzuyu blurts out, her voice cracking. “Not about him... about you!”

Dahyun’s eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. “Tzuyu...”

“I don’t know when it happened,” Tzuyu continues, her voice shaking. “But suddenly, it wasn’t just DJ anymore. I started... I started feeling something for you, too, and I don’t know what to do with it. It scares me, Dahyun, because I don’t know how to handle it. And I—”

Before she can finish, Dahyun closes the gap between them, cupping Tzuyu’s face in her hands. “Tzuyu, stop.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re not the only one who’s been confused.”

Tzuyu’s breath hitches as she stares into Dahyun’s eyes, the world around them fading away.

Dahyun’s thumb brushes Tzuyu’s cheek gently. “I’ve been feeling something too. About you. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

The weight of Dahyun’s confession sends a rush of relief and disbelief through Tzuyu. “You... you feel the same way?”

Dahyun nods, her gaze never leaving Tzuyu’s. “Yeah. I do.”

For a moment, neither of them moves, both caught in the raw intensity of the moment. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Dahyun leans in, her lips brushing softly against Tzuyu’s. The kiss is tentative at first, delicate, but it quickly deepens as they both realize the depth of their unspoken feelings.

Neither of them notices the door to the rehearsal room opening. Sana and Broly freeze just inside, their eyes widening as they witness the two girls lost in their kiss. Broly clears his throat softly, but Sana quickly shushes him, grabbing his arm and dragging him back out into the hallway.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Broly murmurs once they’re outside, his tone amused.

Sana grins mischievously, her eyes twinkling. “I knew it. They’ve been dancing around each other for ages.”

Broly raises an eyebrow. “Guess DJ’s in for a surprise.”

Sana shrugs playfully, already plotting her next round of teasing. “Oh, he’s got a *lot* to process, but... I have a feeling he’ll be just fine.”

Back inside, Dahyun and Tzuyu pull apart, their foreheads resting against each other as they catch their breath. Tzuyu’s heart feels lighter than it has in weeks, her confusion slowly melting away in the warmth of Dahyun’s presence.

“I’m sorry for being so jealous,” Tzuyu whispers, her voice barely audible.

Dahyun smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Tzuyu’s forehead. “You don’t have to apologize. We’ll figure this out... together.”

Tzuyu nods, her heart pounding but filled with a quiet certainty that whatever comes next, they’ll face it side by side.

[ghostykapi]

three against me (the trio's love)

misamo & fem!reader // college au

thank you for @cry4mina for the misamo pictures and for being delulu with me about misamo <3 MISAMOOO

when you said you wanted your college life to be eventful

you didn't expect the universe throwing you three girlfriends, each with their own side of how they got you locked with them

it starts during the first semester of your 3rd year, when you were in a small cafe, getting to a headstart in your pile of homework

it's perfect, a iced coffee by your side, three readings beside you, your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and phone silenced, muting whatever the onslaught of messages nayeon is sending that you can't even be bothered to check

you needed this, you couldn't handled anymore 'dubchaeng babysitting!' when the duo would just make your head hurt with the amount of crazy ideas they had. the change of pace for the day is much welcome, especially knowing that jeongyeon took over with the lure of seeing a band a cafe next university over

it's nice, you can feel like you are in control for even just for a bit

then the cafe's noise dies down when the door chimes

it's too silent

fuck.

you brace yourself at the trio, who’s presence can make the entire student populous go on their knees. the mere whisper of their little group brings the entire college either trembling

misamo.

you can feel her gaze land on you, despite the only indication that it is one of them without looking is the whispers within the cafe. even the baristas know them

hirai momo. softball player, the star athlete that brings medals and more recognition to your university. average grades, stellar performance when she steps on the field and can land a nasty punch

with each step you hear her take, the more you have to remind yourself not to look. you can hear her giggles and the way your heartbeat is now in your ears

minatozaki sana. influencer and model, the unspoken leader of their group. through her bubbly and charming personality, she uses her wit to become the face of the university. part of the top 10% of the whole university, the inspiration to study hard and diligently

you feel a hand on your shoulder, the firm grasp rendering you unable to move, yet it's how you know who it is. she hums in delight at your sharp intake of breath, knowing that you don't need anything else to tell her apart

myoui mina. rising entrepreneur of 3 different business ventures, the deadliest one from the trio. always calculating, always 10 steps ahead of her peers and competitors. sweet, kind, and demur, she brings class to whatever she does

that includes sitting beside you, her bag gently landing on the table, your proximity leaves the others questioning your relationship, but all you know is that you must have done something at your shared class with her yesterday for her too approach you

"i hope you don't mind" she starts, eyes confident and you want to scream and cry because she's wearing a suit. typically worn when she's fresh from visiting one of her businesses. "i heard you were well versed in code"

"programming is my major yes" you keep your voice leveled, after all, being a woman in such a male dominated course has made you what your flock of admirers say, freezingly cold.

"i have a proposition for you" mina starts, keeping a dangerous game of who can keep the eye contact going "you help me with homeworks and projects while i give you money per assessment made"

while mina has a fair share of students that matched her energy, something in your gaze makes her crack a bit

"what makes you think i'll say yes?"

"you can't say no to me"

"yes i can. here watch i'll say it"

and mina can't deny it when she feels her heart start to race when you get closer to her. faces barely a few inches apart

"i don't do things for money. so no"

and you pull back, ready to put back to attention to your homework when mina speaks up

"every time you have to help me i'll pay you in food"

oh goodness free food

"ok i'm in" you hum, hands typing away on your laptop "we start in two days, send me an address and i'll met you there myoui. now shoo, i have to catch up to my work"

she stares at you with a blank gaze, but inside she's dumbfounded at your boldness

nevertheless, she stands up to leave you be, but before she's out of earshot, she says something you don't quite catch

"what?" you ask

"you should call me mina. myoui is too professional even for my taste dear"

three days later, it's momo who bugs you after your morning class

she slips up right beside you, the lack of dress code in the university gives momo a chance to wear a body hugging pink dress, something that makes everyone go crazy. what you don't like is how every guy is looking at her in ways you want to pluck their eyes out

filthy bastards don't deserve to gaze at her at all

"momo" your ears are red because everyone can clearly see you both in the halls, her arm around your waist as you slowly walk to the next building for your next class "what are you doing?"

"accompanying you to class" momo won't admit it, but ever since mina said you were, in her words, 'pretty and sufficient', she had to see you

"why?" you ask, glaring at every man who's looking at her too creepily, making them scurry away

"just because, plus our classrooms are right beside each other" she relaxes more with each less man in the hall, you notice it

"fine" you huff, and before she can even say anything else, you remove your jacket, giving it to her "wear this for today, i don't want any man to look at you. you're too gorgeous for them"

the rest of the walk is silent on the way to both of your classrooms. only thing you can hear is the squeak of every sneaker from each man running way and the whispers in between students

it's the most peaceful walk momo has had since becoming star athlete

so when you wave at her from the door before disappearing to go to the classroom beside her's, she feels like she can breath without panicking

she hates taking anything math related, but she might bare it more when she knows your beside her classroom

she's hooked

later that afternoon, while you lounge around the student council office sipping a red bull, someone barges in, scaring your team who's having a heated debate on who should the rest of the papers

"fucking jesus who the fuck-" ryujin is silenced from who she sees at the door

minatozaki sana, the ever persistent and one of the most notable member under the team of the president.

"someone sent you flowers?"

not a question you were expecting, even your team is gawking at her

dressed to perfection, you can't catch her in a regular outfit at any point, which is kind of ridiculous. sana doesn't care, always styled like she's going to a fashion week in europe. today she's wearing that white dress that she just wore in her feature in some magazine

what is it with the trio and wearing designer clothing every time they are at university grounds? specifically when they are within your eyesight

"pardon?" you know the amount of admires that still try despite cold rejection, even hailing from different courses. hell you think someone from the university over sent you chocolates once, you gave it to your team though

"did you accept some stupid boy's flowers?" sana repeats, anger in her eyes, an emotion she barely shows, and possessiveness in her body language, something you see glimpses of when someone gets close to mina and momo that she doesn't approve of

"minatozaki you know i don't do that" you say calmly, your team in awe at how you keep a calm attitude "if the suitor doesn't have the guts to face me, then they do not deserve my limited time"

"then you'll entertain if i do right?"

you can hear felix and lily choke over their pizza behind you

"you are not serious" you look at her like she's crazy (she loves being called that, you learn from mina later on)

she gets closer to you, faces barely an inch apart, any slip up from her leaning way to closer over your table and she can just kiss you

"try me, i'll see you at tomorrow's meeting miss vice-president"

when she leaves the office, it takes you and your team a total of 5 minutes to recover

"jesus what the fuck was that"

"ryujin shut up, go back to bickering with lia"

no one has ever said no to the trio

maybe a few people had

they're just not as pretty, charming and confident as you

maybe that's why mina keeps sitting beside you during your shared programming class even oustide 'tutor' hours, why momo's insistent at being beside you in between periods to carry your items on days your classes line up, and why sana shows up in every weekly meeting with an expensive gift or a trinket, challenging each suitor head on.

women like them are gonna be the death of you

"you have some crazy women that like you" jihyo jests beside you, giggling at how sana is glaring daggers at how close you both are. you both are now taking a break along with the rest of the internal team to finalize some papers

"yeah well" you don't like to admit it, but ever since their persistence to always either be near you, you have been starting to crack bit by bit "can't really escape them y'know"

"i think you would look cute with them" jihyo hums, swinging her pen between her fingers, making someone across the table keep her stare at the president "misamo and their girlfriend who sucks ass at karaoke"

"ok that was one time" you huff, jihyo's snickering makes sana look up from her phone, jaw tensing up at how close jihyo is "clearly i let you win because you liked it when tzuyu said she's treat you out if you win right?"

that shuts her up. the said tall woman is at the other side of the room, watching the president's face get red, wondering what you just said to make her like this

"get back to work" jihyo then shoos you away, your laughter making jihyo flip you off before returning to work for herself

before you cam even return to work, your eyes meet sana's, her expression unreadable. you wonder what she's thinking of

you look away, a light blush on your cheeks from her intense stare, busying yourself once more with the papers

to sana, witnessing your smile and laughter rewires her brain, heart pleading with her to speed up whatever this stage the three of them are in. each day that passes drives the three of them crazy

mina is messing up in her calculations, momo is missing her shots and sana is losing her composure on the daily

she needs you. they need you.

when sana heads home that night she keeps thinking about you. even when she lets her girlfriends debate what their late night dinner should be (mina wants tacos, momo is craving for some pasta). she blurts out in the middle of it

"do you think y/n would say yes if we offered her sushi as a late night dinner?"

the two stop at their bickering to look at sana, who's eyes are begging for the next move. she's getting itchy and desperate to make it

"satang" mina reaches out to her, letting sana wrap her arms around her waist as momo hugs them both "did something happen?"

"it's just" sana doesn't even try to hide it at this point, knowing that the three of them are nearing their breaking point "i saw her laugh today and it really made me think that 'i want to make her laugh with us' and i-i don't know but it has been driving me mad"

mina hums in understanding and momo speaks up, ready to take that push

"then let's go"

staying late even after meetings is normal for you to catch up with the papers, but for the past few days, you have been staying late in the office to busy your thoughts

mina hasn't been looking at you in the eye or been acknowledging you

momo hasn't been accompanying you to class

sana hasn't shown up to a single meeting this past two weeks

trying to silence your head, you decided to throw yourself into your extra curriculars every night. this night, you are working alone, the only sounds that you can hear are your aggressive typing on your poor keyboard, the music coming from your small speaker and the voices in your head making your heart ache

and now a knock and the door swinging open

"if you have any concerns please drop them by our social media accounts, email, or even the drop box by the-"

you stop your next words when you look up

mina.

you want to curse at the woman, for deliberately avoiding you. it was worse with her, because at least with the two you didn't have the urge to scream because they simply did not show up.

momo.

even clad in that handsome suit, she's still wearing that jacket you handed over to her. devastatingly handsome and gorgeous, you wonder why did she have to leave you wondering in the noisy university halls

sana.

meetings are still the same, but jihyo keeps on asking why your eyes have been straying, always going back to the door. waiting for that laugh to annoy you, waiting for a snarky remark to any stupid men flirting with you, waiting for anything from her

you really want to throw a chair at them for just showing up now and pissing you off

you don't though, because you missed them

each in their own suit, each with their own gift, each one with a nervous smile that no one will ever see, each one wearing their hearts up their sleeves, and each with the same question you didn't know you wanted to hear until now

"we like you. would you like to go out with us? dinner tomorrow night, our treat"

you can't say no

"you guys are horrible at courting. pick me up at 7"

bonus:

in every first date you've been on, you never come over to your dates home. that changes and ends with them

"hirai" you're trying to keep your breath stable as her hands are playing your hair. eyes hazy, but clearly on you, her self control out the door, just like yours

"myoui" she's behind you, her hands on your waist, murmuring what she's been thinking about for the past days. it's all you, and it makes you melt

"minatozaki" you let her kiss you, silencing your worries and doubts, silencing anything that makes you question them. the heart finally getting what it wants

"you my love, deserve to be ours"

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 1

summary - an undercover mission creates distance between you and spencer, but his hands on your waist closes it.

genre - fem!shyish!reader x spencer, forced proximity, fake relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, general cm violence and gore, spencer and reader are both awkwardly in love with each other and don’t know it yet, mentions of trafficking

w/c - 3.5k

a/n - was writing this in one part and realised i just couldn’t. *jennifer coolidge aoughhe* sorry that its a bit inconsistent with writing style, and its not my best. trying to get back into writing fics longer than 1k.

A familiar scene, an unfamiliar circumstance. The breath mint you swirled around your mouth had now disintegrated in your surprised stillness, your boss Aaron Hotchner passed you a thick case file with an attentive glance. Spencer cleared his throat, “At parties?” 

“Yes,” your boss’ hard voice returned, “The girls are swapped at banquets and ballroom dances, disguised as simple partner swapping.” Aaron turned towards the large panel screen and motioned towards an ID photo of a balding man. “This is Quinn Webley, he controls all transactions and coordinates the parties and most importantly, security.” 

“That’s why Reid and Y/L/n will be undercover. No offence but you two aren’t very noticeable,” Rossi added onto Hotch’s explanation, earning a small snort from Morgan.

There was no doubt more reasons to be chosen than that. Morgan was too impulsive, Emily could get hot-headed, JJ wasn’t trained for it, and Rossi and Hotch simply had to make sure everything went well from the outside. You and Spencer were the best options for this type of case, not only because of your skill, because of the obvious chemistry that you and Spencer shared. “Now, you’re not to make contact with Webley, all you have to do is watch him and everyone else. Pay close attention to couples, older men in small groups, and to the dances that might take place.” Hotch was not giving you or Spencer a chance to object, or to deject the idea. This was set, no negotiation. Not that you would want to be replaced in this case, it was just the fact that you were: 1. A terrible dancer, and 2. Not the most extroverted person. You nodded along, opening the case to create a personal profile of the women who were trafficked, before the discussion had come to a close, and everyone left the room to start collecting their things. 

Spencer cleared his throat, bringing you out of your analysis to meet his warm eyes. Suddenly, the easy-going banter you and Spencer shared had evaporated, replaced by suffocating silence. He didn’t meet your gaze back, only muttering in the silence, “Can I assume you want me to take the lead on this one?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You smile smally, trying to melt the ice that had somehow solidified between you two. Spencer was awkward, introverted, preferred alone time, but you were shy, quiet, and verbally uncoordinated (and physically). 

He nodded and exited the room, sighing off nerves that had piled themselves onto his shoulders since finding out he’d have to go undercover with the one girl he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with. He didn’t think the case would ruin your friendship, but it could make it harder for him to keep it that way.

Spencer stood straight with Derek peering over his shoulder and into the mirror. Derek picked at some dust on Spencer’s suit jacket as the nervous boy attempted to loop his tie neatly. 

Derek chuckles under his breath and turns the boy by his shoulders to face him, lifting his strong hands to help Spencer with the dark crimson red tie. Spencer silently thanked him with a nod.

“What are you so nervous about, Spencer?” He asked, half joking half serious, “It’s just an undercover mission. You’ve done this plenty of times.” 

“Not like this,” Spencer quickly replied, “Not with…” Her. You. 

Derek opened his mouth slightly and nodded, finally understanding the true reason for Spencer’s bouncing leg and sweaty hands. 

“Don’t freak out too much okay? You need to act like you love her, which won’t be too hard- But you need to do it without looking like you’re afraid of her.” Derek finished tying Reid’s tie and patted him on the chest as a hype up, smiling at him brotherly like. He knew Spencer’s feelings for you, that he liked you. A lot. 

He didn’t know Spencer wouldn’t have to act like he loves you. Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously and turned to the mirror again, taking his eyes over his slightly unfamiliar reflection. 

The suit is tailored perfectly to his body, making him look trim, lean, and tall. Derek handed him a black bottle of cologne and headed for the door, before a sudden question stopped him.

“Do you… do you think she’s too good for me?” Spencer looked at Derek with big eyes, blinking rapidly. The man stood in slight shock before laughing away the silence, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Spencer wasn’t accusing him of anything, it was a genuine question. Spencer thought he was lesser, less than what you deserved - even if it was just for a night. 

“Pretty boy, I think she’s happier to be doing this than you know. I think she likes you- I know she likes you-“

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Uh uh uh. No. Trust me, Reid,” Derek opened the hotel door and gestured for Spencer to follow him, “If you don’t trust me, ask her yourself.”

The girls whistled loudly at you like a bunch of old men when you emerged from the bathroom. You spun on your heel (which was way too tall for your liking) to entertain the ladies, JJ clapping her hands together and Garcia smiling so hard you felt your own cheeks burn. 

“Why do fake couples always have to be straight, huh?” Emily joked, and you giggled back at her. You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face a standing mirror in the corner of the fancy hotel. 

Your body was wrapped in a silky red, floor length dress, with wide and long sleeves draping over your covered arms like a cloud surrounds a mountain. It cinched at your waist, and stopped at just the right length to expose your 4 inch, black heels. You couldn’t deny that you looked incredible, although your nerves were playing with your head. 

“You look stunning,” Garcia repeated what she said when she was doing your makeup - simple and accentuating - when she noticed your slight anxiety.

Dressing up like this and wearing makeup and styling hair? Not your thing. It’s not that you didn’t like it - you loved being girly. It was just your own insecurities and personal preferences that caused you to wear sweaters and sneakers (anything that wouldn’t bring attention to yourself). 

The girls knew this, and dressed you simply and modestly so as to not add to your nerves that an undercover mission usually invites, and you appreciated it greatly. Although the heels were really high.

You were especially nervous to present yourself like this in front of him.

That’s why you fiddled your hands together, why you looked yourself over in the mirror three times before leaving, why you let the girls completely take over your look. 

You walked out into the hallway, pushing some hair behind your shoulder and letting the other side drape, still getting used to walking in those heels, when you were met with more whistles and compliments. Aaron nodded at you, knowing how abrasive you were to the idea at first, and Rossi and Morgan both asked you to give them a spin - and you did. 

The encouragement lifted your spirits slightly, a smile exploding from your face as a soft blush covered it. This is probably the best you’ve looked in front of them. 

“Where’s her date?” JJ asked, she mentioned that Morgan had the job of matching Spencer’s tie but she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t worry, he’s got on the best dark red tie that we could find. He’s downstairs in the foyer.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before Hotch added, “You have to leave together just in case. Precautions, okay?” 

Spencer swapped the position of his hands at least five times in a minute, glancing at the elevator in the all too fancy hotel every time someone emerged from it. He adjusted his tie, and sniffed his wrists to make sure he smelt good for you. He always made sure of it, after you offhandedly mentioned to Emily how smells could either make or break your day. 

You had a lot in common with Spencer, other than the obvious career choice. You were both… weird. Talkative around each other, silent around others. Shy, but confident in your abilities. You both had your things - your’s is smell, his is germs.

And luckily, whenever you went to Spencer’s apartment to drop off or pick up a book, his place always smelt like cleaning products and cologne.

Though now, he smelt like cedar wood and smoke. You tapped him on the back, nerves rushing through you like a teenager on her first date. He jumps slightly, not hearing the last elevator ding in his own worries, and turns on his heels - nearly bumping into you. 

“Woah.” He let that simple word slip before he could even bite his tongue, and a red wash painted his cheeks and ears.

You looked stunning, and Spencer was simply awestruck. 

You pushed a straightened piece of hair behind your ears and smiled shyly down at your feet, not letting yourself look at him for too long in fear that you’d melt into a puddle. Spencer cleared his throat to contain himself, and held out his arm for you to thread your own through. 

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.” You ask timidly - very unlike how you normally were around him. You avoided taking his arm, scared he’d feel uncomfortable with the contact before he straightened his back and reluctantly pulled your elbow through his. 

“Just nervous, you look-“ He coughed, “Nice.” 

A smile slipped from you as you thanked him quietly, the two of you heading out the large foyer doors and towards a black limousine.

The ride was mostly silent other than the quiet music playing from the radio. And despite the large amount of room in the back, the two of you stayed conjoined at the hips. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both nervous, maybe it’s the job.

Maybe it’s because you’re both going into a place you’d never purposefully enter. 

“You smell good.” You broke the silence, your knee tapping his. He brought his attention from the window to your face, now noticing the small amount of makeup that accentuated your already beautiful features.

“Thanks. You too.” 

Suddenly, Morgan’s playful voice cut through the weirdly comfortable silence, through to both of your earpieces. “Alright you two. Now, you both know you’ll have to be all lovey-dovey, no acting needed, but don’t over do it. We’re not trying to make contact with Webley, just to get close enough to watch him. If you lose sight of him, hit the dance floor, he and his wife enjoy moving around.” Spencer’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stare at the black floor in concentration. His hands start getting a bit sweaty and he has to clear his throat to coax himself into listening to Morgan. 

“And if he heads for the kitchen, let us know, we’ve got an officer that’s acting as a bodyguard at the back door that can tell us when he’s left.”

Spencer thanks him over the ear piece, holding down a small microphone under his cufflinks. Your hands fiddled with each other, threatening to chip off the nail polish Emily so carefully painted. Spencer felt his heart pump in his chest, but ignored it and took a small mint tin from the inside of his jacket, holding a small white pellet out to you. “Y/n,” he caught your attention and smiled at you sweetly, easing your nerves almost immediately. You took the mint from his palm, your fingertips tracing the lines on his palm softly before you popped it into your mouth. You didn’t have to ask how he knew you needed that, you had grown comfortable with knowing Spencer knew more about you than anyone else in the team. 

The venue was a mansion mixed with a theatre. There were expansive columns lining the outside, countless balconies looking out onto the cityscape, and gardens paired with ponds that were home to some unexpectedly calm swans. You and Spencer both stood there for a few seconds, taking in the architecture, as well as the amount of people entering and exiting the main doors. For a second, you felt giddy and childish. You weaved your arm under his and he let his other hand land over yours to squeeze it gently - he must feel just out of place but weirdly excited as you are. 

Don’t lose sight of the real priority here, Y/n. 

But it’s hard to do that when you’re entering the conjuring of your childhood dreams. 

When you start walking up the large stairs, your heels click and Spencer tightens his arm slightly, your stepping becoming a little uneven. These damn heels. 

“You okay?” He asked, one eyebrow raised slightly. His hair was combed back, his long locks more tamed than usual, but one curly strand just escaped and covered the left side of his forehead. It looked effortless, handsome.

“Um- Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to shoes like this.” You laughed like it's funny and Spencer continued to basically lift you up the stairs with no complaining.

When you stepped foot into the main foyer of the building, there were multiple chandeliers that swayed safely in the bustling movement of the quartz floor. There were multiple vases of red and white flowers, almost matching your dress, and multiple suited guards at every entrance and staircase. They smile at guests, and offer them menus and directions, and smartly conceal their weapons in case of intruders. Intruders being you and Spencer.

When Spencer leads you up to them, his hands finally still and confident, the guards smile at you both - offering you an extra look over that has Spencer angling himself to cover you. 

“Names?” One of them asked, pulling out a checklist from behind his back (you almost thought they were pulling out their small guns - you really were not confident in how to act… well… confident.) 

“Mr and Mrs Conner.” 

“First names?” 

First names? You weren’t given first names. Garcia had made sure that nobody else on the guestlist was by the last name of Conner. You could practically see the cogs churning in Spencer’s head - creativity wasn’t really his strong point. 

“Did you just ask for our first names?” You scoff, your voice becoming a bit whinier than usual, “You obviously live under a rock, there are no other Coopers.” 

The guard widened his eyes, scanning the list again and stuttering, “I’m sorry ma’am. You’re obviously- Have a good night.” The guard lifted an arm as an invitation inside, and you gave him a glare. Spencer smiled once you were both out of sight and squeezed your hand with his own. But there are no words, as you’re too taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the room, if you could even call it that, to focus on the contact. Even larger chandeliers, expansive marble floors and painted ceilings with naked bodies. The warm lighting nearly convinced you that this was just some rich party that people get drunk at and talk about nonsense, but Hotch suddenly talking in your earpieces brought you out of the spell that the pure aesthetics had lured you with. “In the back left of the dance floor, you’ll see Webley dancing with his wife, talking to a pair of aristocrats. Try to get closer, don’t be obvious.”

You released a breath and Spencer adjusted his arms to intertwine his fingers with yours, causing you to meet his gaze in surprise. “We’re in love, remember?” His eyes creased with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in comforting patterns you couldn’t decipher. Oh, you couldn’t forget that. “Right,” you respond, straightening your back and walking with him towards the dance floor. 

His hands carefully rested on your waist, his fingers gripping slightly against the silky fabric of your dress. The contact made your skin burn, a permanent pink painting your cheeks and increasing whenever you made eye contact with the tall and undeniably good looking man you were dancing with. Spencer didn’t look anywhere other than you and the back left of the dance floor. You had almost grown bored of the nerves in your heart before you noticed something you didn’t see before. 

“Hey, your tie matches my dress.” You said softly, barely audible over the music that echoed around the hall. Spencer glanced down at his tie (thankfully still properly tied) and then at your dress. That was a mistake, because now his breathing is deeper and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Spencer nodded and sent you a small smile, “Morgan made sure of it.” 

“Didn’t that spoil it for you?” You asked, finally meeting his gaze. It looked deep, it looked… heavy. 

His swirling brown eyes shot electricity at you when he replied, “Why would it be spoiled?” 

You lowered your head away as you smiled sheepishly, “This is probably the nicest I’ve ever been in front of you. Probably wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be.” 

“You wanted it to be special?” You felt his fingers twitch on your waist as your own fingers twiddled with each other behind his neck. You lifted your face and found him clearing his throat, “I mean, it was still special. Although, I disagree with it being the nicest you’ve ever look.” 

You laughed, and it caused Spencer to crack a smile. 

“I show up to work bare-faced, in second-hand pants and sweaters two times my size. I feel like this is pretty good.” 

“You always look good.” 

You almost stopped your soft swaying with him in shock, and Spencer’s cheek reddened as if he was also shocked he said it. Spencer cleared his throat again, and bit the inside of his lip. 

The others couldn’t hear them right now. The music was soft, people chattered and to be honest, the whole mission had been erased from his mind. Spencer took a long, deep breath.

“I think you look beautiful right now, of course. But you’re still beautiful when you’re dressed like how you like to. I know what it feels like to not want to bring attention to yourself, and how sometimes your clothes can hide you. But…” Spencer stopped your movements with his hands lowering to your hips, he had been instinctively pulling you closer throughout the dance. “There’s nothing you could do, or wear, that could possibly take my attention off of you.” 

You felt your world stand still, although the blur of people didn’t seize, and fluttered your eyelashes at him unsure of how to respond. It was the most he’s spoken to you in one time - excluding random facts and the babbling you accept everyday.

“Spencer…” 

The tall man raised his hands to your waist again, the motion leaving waves of nerves to tumble over you, before he cleared his throat and started darting his eyes from yours to someone’s in the background. 

“Y/n. I think I saw Webley.” His grip only slightly tightened on your silk dress, his fingers curling slightly to move you across the dance floor slowly. You were definitely the more uncoordinated of you two. 

He moved skilfully across the dance floor, avoiding bodies and feet like it was rehearsed. 

“Not too close.” You muttered, Spencer’s attention flickering to you for only a second to nod in agreement. You need to watch him, not make contact with him. 

You grimace slightly, your ankle wobbling at an awkward angle for a second before you recover and-

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his eyes again, his own already burning a hole through you and your heels. 

“I’m fine, again it’s just the heels.” 

“They seem to be causing you a lot of harm,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. Maybe he can distract you. “Did you know that heeled shoes were originally designed for Medieval Soldiers? They were made to make rising horses easier, putting a heel in the stirrups instead of your armoured shoe. And in the 16th century they weren’t supposed to be… to be seen…” He rambled and stopped abruptly.

He didn’t stop because you told him to, or you looked annoyed, or you lost interest. He stopped because you looked… too good to say anything. It made him nervous like a school boy seeing his crush in her prom dress - although he never got to experience that. It felt pretty close.

You tilted your head, a piece of straightened, silky hair falling over your shoulder. Spencer gulped, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand and twirled the piece in his pointer finger. 

It was like an optical illusion, something you know can’t be real, but intrigued you anyways. That’s what you felt, because whatever was happening right now could not be real. 

Spencer Reid looked entranced, hypnotised without knowing. And you looked red. 

“Th-they weren’t supposed to be seen?” 

Spencer snapped out of his trance but didn’t continue, only pulling you forward by the waist and moving that strand behind your ear. Your heart pumped, your ears matching the colour of your dress. 

He didn’t try to kiss you, even if he wanted to so badly. Instead, he lowered his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered, “Let’s go. Webley opened the kitchen door.” 

And your heart dropped.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[kiwriteswords]

hotchhotchhotch! it's like you write him extra hot - like sriracha hot - bc he's sososo perfect in your writing! can i request the "saying "i love you" for the first time" with shy!reader?

Hi!! Thank you so much!!! This one turned out to be a little longer than a drabble! Hope you like it!!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In the high-stakes world of the BAU, you and Aaron Hotchner have shared a quiet, unspoken connection that began as something casual, a way to find comfort amid the chaos. But when a routine case leaves you critically injured, Hotch is forced to confront the depth of his feelings. As he anxiously waits by your side, fearing the worst, Hotch realizes that losing you would break him in ways he never expected.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Technically safe for work, but hints at an intimate relationship.

TW: Canon typical violence, hints at intimacy, angst

The Fear of Falling

You didn’t expect to get shot.

You were trained for it, prepared to face the worst every day, but no one really expects it. You were in the thick of it, chasing down a suspect with Hotch, when it all went wrong. One minute, you had your eyes on him, and the next, pain exploded through your side.

The world blurred around you as you hit the ground, blood seeping into your clothes, your hands, the dirt beneath you. Voices came through muffled, far-off. It wasn’t until Hotch’s voice cut through the haze that reality started to set back in.

The bullet tore through your side, the pain immediate and searing, but in the chaos of the moment, you didn’t have time to process it. Everything around you was a blur—Hotch’s voice barking orders into his radio, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the sound of footsteps pounding the ground around you.

But one thing was clear: Hotch never left your side.

That had always been his way—quiet, steady, dependable. From the beginning, when whatever this was between you had started, Hotch had been there. It hadn’t been some whirlwind romance, no grand gestures or confessions of love. Instead, it was late nights spent together after a long day in the field, where the lines between work and something more blurred. You’d sit close on the jet, your knees brushing under the table as you discussed case files, or spend hours in quiet conversation that had nothing to do with the cases you worked on but everything to do with understanding each other.

The "fling"—as you had quietly labeled it in your head—started as something small, something easy to dismiss. It had begun in the most unexpected way, during a night at a bar after a tough case. The team had gone home, but you and Hotch had stayed, finding some kind of strange comfort in the shared silence over a couple of drinks. It had been weeks of tension, the unspoken attraction between you simmering beneath the surface, and that night, it finally broke. A lingering glance. A brush of fingers. Then, without thinking, you had leaned in, and so had he.

It was never meant to be serious. Neither of you had said as much, but the understanding was there. Hotch had his demons, and you had yours. He was your superior. The weight of those unspoken boundaries hung between you, even as you’d find yourself alone together, the rest of the world falling away for brief moments. Kisses stolen in the shadows of hotel rooms when the team wasn’t looking. Conversations that lasted too long, with gazes that lingered just a bit more than they should have.

You had agreed to keep things casual. Nothing more than companionship in the midst of the chaos of your lives. Neither of you had the space for something deeper, something permanent. Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves. But as the months went on, the way Hotch looked at you began to shift. You noticed the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way he checked on you after a particularly rough case, or how he lingered at your side just a little longer than necessary.

And somewhere along the way, you had begun to care about him more than you should have. You tried to push it down, to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to pretend--the more painful it became to pretend. The quiet moments, the subtle touches, the way he said your name—it all added up to something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Stay with me.” He was beside you, his hands pressing against your wound, voice stern but shaking. His brows furrowed, eyes fixed on your injury, but his jaw clenched with something much deeper than concern. You could see it, even in your pain-addled state.

“I’m—” You tried to speak, but it was hard to get the words out. You were used to being quiet, used to keeping your thoughts to yourself. That never seemed to be a problem when you were with Hotch. Silence had become a part of the strange rhythm you had with him, this unspoken understanding between two people who couldn’t find the right words but always seemed to know.

Now, though, you felt the need to fill that silence, to say something, anything.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “you’re going to be okay.”

The grip of his hands tightened, and in a rare moment, his walls seemed to crack. He wasn’t just your boss here. He wasn’t the stern, unflinching leader of the BAU. He was Aaron—someone who had been carrying something for a while, someone who hadn’t yet spoken all the things he needed to say. Someone you cared about more than you ever let on.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wincing as a fresh wave of pain surged through you. You weren’t sure why you apologized—maybe for being hurt, maybe for all the times you’d kept quiet when you wanted to say more, or maybe for all the times you felt like you were asking too much of him, even when you hadn’t asked for anything at all.

“Why would you apologize?” His voice was tight, but there was a gentleness in it that you’d rarely heard. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do.”

Hotch rode with you in the ambulance, his hand gripping yours, his jaw clenched tight as he stared down at you, concern and fear etched into every hard line of his face. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the way he was barely keeping it together for your sake. Aaron Hotchner was always the one in control, always the one to keep a level head when everything else was falling apart. But right now, it felt like that control was slipping.

As the paramedics worked on you, you could hear the urgency in their voices. The blood loss, the need to stabilize you—it was all happening too fast for you to grasp. The only constant was Hotch’s presence, his voice grounding you, telling you to hold on.

By the time you reached the hospital, the world was fading in and out. The last thing you saw before you were wheeled into surgery was Hotch standing there, his eyes locked on yours, as if he was afraid to let you go.

Hours passed. Hotch didn’t move from the waiting room.

The sterile hospital air seemed suffocating, the hum of fluorescent lights above adding to the unbearable stillness. Time felt warped—minutes dragged into hours, each second stretching endlessly as he waited. His mind was stuck on one thing: you.

Reid was the first to arrive, his face pale as he walked into the waiting room. He wasn’t good with hospitals, and Hotch knew it. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag as he approached. “Hotch,” he said softly, “how is she?”

Hotch didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes fixed on the swinging doors down the hall, the ones that led to the surgical ward. “She’s still in there.”

Reid sat down beside him, the silence between them heavy. Hotch could feel the younger man glancing at him occasionally, probably wanting to say more, but holding back. Reid wasn’t someone who pushed when others needed space. But even his quiet presence wasn’t enough to pierce the fog of worry clouding Hotch’s mind. After a few minutes, Reid left, muttering something about needing to call Garcia for an update.

Hotch barely registered it.

Morgan came next, his energy a stark contrast to the stillness that had settled over the room. He strode in, his expression serious but determined. “How’s she doing, man?”

Hotch shook his head, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Morgan sat across from him, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “She’s tough. She’s gonna pull through.”

Hotch nodded, but the movement felt mechanical. Empty. His mind was spinning with worst-case scenarios, a constant replay of the moment you went down. The blood. The way your body crumpled. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the memory. He could still feel the warmth of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding.

“She’ll make it,” Morgan added quietly, his voice softer now. He was trying to comfort Hotch, trying to be there in the way he always was for the team. But Hotch didn’t have it in him to respond. He barely acknowledged the weight of Morgan’s words before he stood abruptly, pacing to the window.

He stared outside, seeing nothing but the reflection of the waiting room. His reflection. And behind it, Morgan, looking at him with quiet concern. But Morgan didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes, he got up, clapped Hotch on the shoulder, and left, probably to update the rest of the team.

Rossi arrived last. The older man walked in with the calm, steady air that he always carried, but even he couldn’t mask the worry etched into his features. He had been doing this job longer than any of them, and Hotch knew he had seen more than his share of teammates in the hospital. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“How’re you holding up?” Rossi asked, standing beside Hotch by the window.

Hotch didn’t answer right away. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers clenched into tight fists. He stared out at the city below, his jaw working as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m fine,” he finally muttered, his voice tight.

Rossi didn’t buy it, of course. “You’re not fine, Aaron. None of us are when someone we care about is lying on an operating table.”

Hotch flinched at that. Care. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. He knew what Rossi was implying—what everyone had probably suspected for a while now. But this wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now.

“I should’ve been faster,” Hotch muttered, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

Rossi shook his head. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. So does she.”

Hotch clenched his fists tighter, the anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She’s in there because of me. If I’d been quicker, more careful...”

“She’s in there because it’s the job. You did everything you could.” Rossi’s voice was firm, but it didn’t soothe the guilt gnawing at Hotch’s insides.

The silence stretched between them, and Rossi eventually gave him a small nod before heading out. He knew better than to push Hotch when he was like this. And Hotch knew that, deep down, Rossi was right. But that didn’t change the fact that you were in surgery, and he was standing here, helpless.

The minutes dragged on. He glanced at the clock. Then at the doors. His mind was racing—picturing every possible outcome, every scenario, from best to worst. He had never felt more useless in his life. Out in the field, he knew what to do. There was always a plan, always a course of action. But here? Here, he was just waiting.

And Hotch wasn’t someone who did well with waiting.

He leaned against the window, his hand rubbing his face as exhaustion tugged at him. The pressure in his chest was unbearable. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not after everything you’d been through together—every quiet moment, every glance that spoke louder than words. He had never said it, never admitted how deeply he cared for you. Not to you, not to himself. But now... now he didn’t have a choice.

He loved you.

And if he lost you, he wasn’t sure how he would put himself back together again.

He paced the waiting room some more, his hands running through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to lose it. But the image of you lying there, bleeding, the sound of your voice barely above a whisper, haunted him. He could still feel your hand slipping from his grasp as they took you into the operating room.

“Hotch,” Emily said softly, placing a hand on his arm to stop him mid-pace. “She’s strong. She’s going to make it.”

He nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. What could he say? That he wasn’t strong enough for this? That, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was falling apart?

When he finally sat down, it was with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this unhinged, this terrified of losing someone.--Not since Haley.

But you weren’t Haley. You were different.

Haley had been the love of his life—the mother of his child, the person who had seen him through some of his darkest moments. But his love for her had been rooted in something that had bloomed long before the BAU took over his life, before the job hardened him, before the tragedies that followed had changed him. Haley had seen him as a younger man, unburdened by the weight of the world. And even after everything, she had always held a place in his heart.

But you... you were different.

You had become a part of his life without him even realizing it, quietly slipping into the spaces Haley had left behind. At first, he had resisted it. After Haley, he had sworn that he wouldn’t let himself feel that deeply for someone again. The loss had been too great, too painful. He had told himself that he didn’t have time for it, that he didn’t deserve it. His job demanded too much, and he had already paid the price once.

But then there had been you.

Your presence had been subtle, almost imperceptible at first. There were the late-night debriefs after a long case, the quiet conversations in the jet, the moments of silence that somehow felt more comfortable than words. You never pushed, never demanded more than he was willing to give. You didn’t need to. You just were—steady, present, a constant in his life that had become more and more important without him even realizing it.

And now, sitting here, waiting for news on whether you’d pull through, he knew there was no going back. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t push away what had been building between you.

Because somewhere along the way, you had become more than just another colleague, more than just another person he cared about. He wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe it was during a quiet evening when you had shared a rare laugh, or maybe it was when you had listened to him without judgment after a particularly brutal case. Or maybe it had been a thousand little moments that had piled up until he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny it now.

He was in love with you.

It wasn’t something he had planned, or something he had even wanted at first. But it had crept up on him, slowly and surely, until the thought of losing you terrified him more than he had ever been willing to admit.

He had tried to keep his distance, to keep things professional. After all, what business did a man like him have getting involved with someone like you? He was too old, too broken. You deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the kind of baggage he did. But every time he was near you, every time you smiled or laughed, or even just sat quietly with him in comfortable silence, it chipped away at the walls he had so carefully built.

And if something happened to you—if he lost you now—he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

It had been so easy to fall for you. Too easy.

Now, he was terrified that he’d never get the chance to tell you.

When you finally woke up, groggy from the anesthesia, the first thing you noticed was the stiffness in your side. The second was the sound of steady breathing beside you.

Turning your head slowly, you saw him. Hotch was sitting in the chair next to your bed, looking far more disheveled than you’d ever seen him. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable. He hadn’t left.

“Hotch?” you murmured, your voice weak, but the relief of seeing him made your heart ache.

His head snapped up, and the relief that washed over his face was palpable. He stood immediately, leaning over you, his hand resting gently on your arm. “You’re awake,” he said softly, and you could hear the unspoken worry in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admitted, trying to give him a small smile, though the heaviness in your chest made it hard. You had been lucky, but the fact that it had come to this—lying in a hospital bed after being shot—felt like a wake-up call.

The bubbling of feelings in your chest out-ached the pain from the bullet. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t pretend that your feelings for him didn’t run deeper than you ever intended. And you couldn’t ask him to risk his heart again, not after everything he had been through.

“I think...” you started, your throat dry, “I think we should stop whatever this is.”

Hotch blinked, the words seeming to hit him like a physical blow. “What?” he asked, his voice low, like he hadn’t quite heard you correctly.

“I just—” You paused, unsure of how to explain the storm of emotions inside you. “I’ve caught feelings, Hotch. And I don’t think that’s fair. Not to you, not to me. It’s... too much.”

His face hardened, but not in anger. It was the mask he wore when he was trying to keep himself in check, to not let his emotions spill out.

“I don’t want to make things harder for you,” you continued, your heart aching with each word. “I don’t want to ask for more than you can give. I know you’ve already been through enough.”

“You think you’re asking too much of me?” His voice was quiet but firm, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “You’re the one who just got shot, and you think you’re the problem here?”

You tried to sit up, but the pain made you wince, and he was immediately by your side, his hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, the tears threatening to spill over now. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did, and now I don’t know what to do because I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating. You expected him to walk away, to tell you that this was why he had always kept his distance, why he hadn’t let things get too deep. But instead, he surprised you.

“I love you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, his words hanging in the air between you. You weren’t sure you had heard him right.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he continued, his voice rough, as if it hurt him to admit it. “I just... I didn’t think I could ask that of you. I’m not... I’m not the man I used to be, and I thought you deserved more than someone like me. Someone who’s been through what I have.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re everything to me, Hotch. I don’t care about the rest.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand reached for yours, his grip firm but gentle, and the weight of everything unsaid between you seemed to settle. 

“You scared the hell out of me today,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And I realized I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.”

The tears came then, and you didn’t try to stop them. You had been holding back for so long, afraid of what it would mean to let yourself feel this way, to let yourself fall for him. But now, it didn’t matter. He was here. You were both here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “And neither are you.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[shalomniscient]

[recommended song: albireo by rokudenashi.]

you love her.

it’s something you’ve always known, really. you’ve loved her since you were kids, sitting on her roof and looking at the stars. you loved her and she loved the stars. they flickered in her eyes every time she would point them out—cassiopeia, orion, pegasus, leo, among many others. she spoke of them like they’re old friends, sharing their stories with you, but most of the time you would get too lost in the sound of her voice to pay attention. you would wish she’d speak your name in that tone.

it’s on a clear night, both of you still in your school uniforms, when she tells you about binary stars. “they’re caught in each others’ gravity,” she explains, grinning, golden eyes as bright as the fiery red of her hair, and you remember thinking it feels familiar. you remember relating. you’ve let yourself get pulled along by her orbit for years now—so much so you think that maybe, without her gravity, you might just fall apart. thne she tells you about albireo; a binary star. points it out to you amongst all the other little lights that hang from the heavens. the glint of albireo’s component stars overlap with each other just like how her fingertips brush yours, and the heat expansion of the universe pulses forward with each beat of your heart. your world gets bigger for every second you spend by her side.

but you learn she’s more like a comet than a star. upon the scale of a human eye, a star is stationary. unmoving. permanent. and she is anything but. there’s a restlessness in her, a longing, but it’s different from yours. the gravity she moves along is not from another—not from you—but from the stars beyond even what is known. she wants to dance from system to system, to know the warmth of a star as she passes by but never to stay. and so you find that part of you isn’t surprised when she says she’s leaving, to venture forth onto the starry rail and the path of a god long gone. “i’ll miss you,” she says, her golden eyes warm with sincerity as she takes her hands in yours, and you want to tell her you will too, but the words lodge in your throat stubbornly. you can only manage them after she’s gone, nothing but a shining light in the sky, but the words burn up in the stratosphere before they reach her.

you still love her.

a year after she departs, a discovery is made. albireo is a false binary—its component stars are light years apart, made to seem close by the illusion of spacetime. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry at the irony. a binary star that never was, and a love that never was. close enough to taste, far enough to miss. you want to ask her for your heart back, but you don’t even know where you’d put it. she’s had it for so long, even if she doesn’t know. it’s always been hers. so you swallow down the ache in your throat like a burning star, and pick up the phone with a smile when she calls.

(in the distance, albireo shines down on you, alone.)

[owuwi]

NATALIE SCATORCCIO

summary: she can't be into you, so why not distance herself?

pairings: natalie scatorccio x fem!r

warnings: angst, a tiny bit suggestive, detailed description of throwing up, internalized homophobia from natalie

2.0k words

Natalie wasn't into girls. She wasn't opposed to fucking them but she wasn't romantically attracted to them. Or at least that's what she thought until she started seeing you in a different way.

You were the whole package; not only were you easy on the eyes but you actually cared about Natalie. That's why she immediately started to distance herself from you the moment she realized that she was starting to get too attached.

A bit of context here; you were Nat's person. You were the only one who she trusted enough to talk about every single shit that happened to her. You were always there for her no matter what and she even tried to 'return the favor' and be there for you — though it didn't always work but at least she tried —.

You protected her, you defended her and she — grumpily — allowed you to. She'd be lying if she said that it didn't make her feel good, that it didn't make her feel safe, but she simply wasn't ready to admit it. She wasn't someone easy to be around, let alone date, so she thought that avoiding you was her way of protecting you back.

Your friends and even Natalie's didn't understand why you were so persistent about her, why you tried so hard to show people that she wasn't a bitch or any of those terrible things they called her, but you weren't doing it for them, you were doing it for Nat. You needed her to stop being so harsh on herself. Your efforts didn't go unnoticed by the dirtyblonde-haired girl, in fact, it only made her like you even more.

She skipped school today which was something you were already used to, but you were worried about her thanks to the fact that she hasn't been calling you back nor meeting you at your spot — yeah, you and Natalie had a secret place where you would meet each other before school —. That's why you built every ounce of courage and decided to pay her a visit after your classes.

Natalie's house — trailer — wasn't unknown to you but you never actually walked there without her permission. She was always telling you when to show up or not, and it was always at times when she was completely alone. You were obviously aware of the issues she had with her family which is why you never visited her unless she told you to, and you prayed that this visit wouldn't get her in trouble.

You knew she was home alone by the sight of her sitting on the stairs of her trailer, a bunch of light-out cigarets and a pair of empty bottles — most likely of booze — scattered around the pavement. Seeing Natalie like this pained you more than she understood but you knew you needed to be strong for her, that's why you walked closer to her, ready to help her in any way possible.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Natalie, though, didn't seem happy by your presence at all. The slim girl immediately stood up after letting out those slurred words, her voice as rough and deep as always.

You knew she was just drunk and payed no attention to her sharp tone of voice, instead, you took a deep breath and approached her even more. There was an odd tension between the two of you; the air suddenly thickening around you, the sounds of the trailer park muffling as your feet moved towards the girl.

"I asked you a question." She spoke again, looking at you with a mix of confusion and discomfort in her gaze. The way she was staring at you was enough to send shivers down your spine, a look you've never received from Natalie before.

Making her mad was definitely not going to be a good thing, especially not when you were trying to get answers for her startled behavior. "I was worried.." Is all that managed to come out of your mouth, your voice sounding shaky and stuttered. It was obvious that Nat was drunk — you could now smell the alcohol on her breath due to how close she was —, hence is why you understood that she wasn't in her right mind.

The girl in front of you simply scoffed, a cold, raspy noise coming from the back of her throat and slipping past her cut-clad lips. You'd be lying if you said you've never thought about kissing them, about feeling them pressing against every inch of your body. Though right now wasn't the moment to be thinking about that stuff, it was almost as if Natalie could read your mind; her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she stares at you.

"Leave me alone, don't you understand that i don't want you close to me? Or are you so fucking stupid that you can't realize something as simple like that?" She quickly asked again, but you could see the way her bottom lip was slightly trembling while she looks at you.

"What's going on, Nat? Why are you acting like this?" You couldn't help but to ask your friend, shifting even closer to her, your words dripping with serious concern and affection — which was definitely not helping her with her mixed feelings —.

Natalie wanted nothing more but to yell at you, to punch you until you were a bloody mess on the pavement, but she couldn't. There was never a violent — hell, not even a negative — thought about you in her mind. For her, you were perfect; an angel sent from heaven to keep her safe. Despite how fuzzy her head was due to all the alcohol and cigarets she had, you were all she could think about.

That's why she grabbed the collar of your shirt and crashed her lips against yours, so roughly that you swore your lips were going to bruise. It was a quick kiss, though messy and filled with anger, it wasn't enjoyable. You couldn't even kiss her back, your hands hovering over her sides but not fully resting against them. What were you supposed to do? Natalie kissed you like some sort of rabid animal — grunts slipping past her lips — and you could taste the cigarets and licor she previously had.

She pulled away some moments later, allowing her forehead to rest against your own, and everything was quiet for some moments. "Because of you... why can't you fucking see that?" She rasped out, her eyes slowly fluttering open to look at you.

There was an evident hint of lust in the girl's gaze but there was something else; a hint of fear glimmering in her eyes. You knew she wasn't doing well yet you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, you were paralyzed — her taste still lingering in your tongue —.

"I can't do this shit... you know that.." She continued talking before closing her eyes and pushing you away — which caused you to stumble back a bit —, acting as if you were the one who kissed her. She then ran her fingers through her ruffled hair, clearly trying to hold back her emotions.

Despite still being quite in shock, you knew that you needed to say something before she dugs herself further into this messy hole. That's why, after taking a deep breath and really thinking about your words, you speak up; "Y-You're... too drunk. Let me help you, please.." You weakly muttered out, offering her a small, almost shy smile before gently reaching out to grab her hand.

Now, Natalie was definitely not a touchy person. She actually hated to be touched — always flinching whenever someone got too close — but you were different. You were you, and she would always allow you to do whatever you wanted with her — though she wouldn't say it out loud —. So seeing the way she roughly slaps your hand away and then takes a step backwards hurt you more than you thought it could.

"Don't—...." She trailed off, looking at you with parted lips for a moment before lightly shaking her head side-to-side and then turning around. She sat down on the edge of the stairs once again, resting the back of her head against the door of the trailer. "Don't touch me.." She managed to continue her sentence, looking up at you like a kicked puppy.

Her eyes were red and filled with un-shed tears, her body visibly shaking, and you knew that was going on in her head. She needed her person right now — she needed you — and you could tell. Even though she was going to complain, you simply sat down next to her and then let out a sigh. You couldn't look at her, you were confused. Did Nat liked you? Did she wanted to be something more than just friends? Or was it the booze in her system? Millions of thoughts were racing through your mind until the sound of her voice snapped you back into reality.

"My uh... m-my dad's gonna be here any time soon... you should leave.." She warned you, looking over at you through hooded eyes, a hint of concern hidden in her words. Despite everything, she still cared about you.

"I'm not leaving you... especially not when you're like this." You quickly protested before bitting down on your bottom lip. An idea crossed your mind, an idea drunken-Natalie wouldn't enjoy, and you knew it was the right thing to do. Before the dirtyblonde-haired girl could say anything, you spoke again.

"You should come with me, you're in no state to see your—... dad." You then added, your voice cracking with nervous and even hesitation. There was a glimpse of anger noticeable in the girl's eyes for a moment before she looked away from you, her face turning into a wince before she threw up on the pavement.

You immediately grabbed her hair and hold it up for her, using your free hand to slowly rub soothing circles on her back — the fabric of her t-shirt soaked in cold sweat —. Natalie Scatorccio was probably the most stubborn person you've ever met, yet you hoped that she would allow you to help her in this moment.

"Please, just—... make it stop.." She weakly stuttered out, not being able to stop the warm liquid slipping past her lips. Natalie liked the effect of being drunk but she absolutely despised the consequences; puking and then being hangover the next day. The way she was acting like a little kid was only breaking your heart even more.

"C'mon..." You simply indicated before helping her get up, ignoring the putrefying smell of her vomit. You've helped Natalie during moments like this plenty of times yet you never truly realized how messed up it was; how fucked up it was.

The drunk girl was literally shaking, her body seeming much smaller than it ever did, and she was weak. She would never admit it but she was weak; she was so weak that she could barely walk on her own. If it wasn't for you, she'd probably be passed out on the cold floor, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

The next hours were a blur for the two of you; you managed to get her into your car and drove her to your house. Your family were — thankfully — out of town so you had your house to yourself. Natalie was mumbling nonsense under her breath the whole time you helped her into your place, you assisted her with brushing her teeth and even bathed her. In another time, another moment, the pair of you would've joked about this; you probably would've crack a joke or two, but this was different. Nat was barely conscious and she wasn't herself.

After giving her some fresh clothes, you lied her on your bed and she immediately passed out.

It was until midnight where she roused and she couldn't help but to break, tears rolling down the pale skin of her cheeks like a cascade. You obviously woke up yet you didn't say anything, you simply wrapped your arms around her figure and she allowed you to — she was so weak for you —.

With her head on your chest, she eventually calmed down, her lips parting to mumble out some simple words. "I'm so—... so sorry.."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

---

---

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[betelgeuses-wife]

Hi there!! Could I request a sweet oneshot where the Reader cuddles with BJ, combing through his hair while he curls up with her? Romantic ship bordering on platonic would be lovely!! 🥰 thank you!!

If course! I'll do my best! I hope you like it. Please let me know feedback, it helps a lot!

-----

Creature Comforts

🪲🧃

-----

You weren't entirely sure what had gotten Bee in such a put-out mood but after this long, you refrained from trying to guess, it could've been for a number of reasons or just one, perhaps one that wouldn't seem much of a big deal to you but that was Bee for you. You were used to just giving him comfort when he asked for it because it wasn't too often when he wasn't his usual, theatrical self.

Adventures in Babysitting was playing on the TV while you both were on the couch, you were sat up with your legs resting on the footrest and Bee was laying with his head in your lap; a pillow under him. He seemed unusually quiet and you wondered what was on his mind, usually he'd have made some crude jokes about the lead actress by now. He'd have found a number of ways to try to make you laugh but it was radio silence on his end. With Bee's lack of personality showing, you were barely paying attention to the movie yourself but you weren't particularly in a bad mood, you just wanted to find a way to make Bee...well. Himself again. You knew people had their off days and you supposed ghosts did too.

You were running your fingers through his hair gently, not really even aware you were doing so until you caught a knot and heard Bee grumble.

A "Sorry...", whispered, slipped from your before pursed lips. Your gaze settling on Bee rather than the screen, now slightly more focused on gently getting the knot out without disturbing him more. Bee didn't often care about his appearance either, he'd rarely ask for help with his hair but he hadn't complained since he had come to rest his head in your lap about a half an hour ago. So, you figured he didn't hate it.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of snuggling up with him and taking advantage of the silence but in all honesty you wanted to just comfort him. There were a number of things that were left unspoken between the two of you, each of you held your own secrets about your dynamic. Perhaps denial was at play but at times, your flirtatious, playful moments you shared bordered closer to your feelings and wants for Bee than you'd care to admit. You stated you'd only let him be around so long as it was platonic and here you were questioning that.

"What's on ya mind, Sweets?" His gravelly voice pulled you from your thoughts. Perhaps your lack of detangling had earned his attention.

"I could ask you the same thing. You've been quiet too." Your eyes locked onto his as Bee had turned to look up at you.

"Just'a thinkin, s'all."

"Want to talk about it?"

"What. 'N' ruin your quiet time?"

"I'll take that as a no then. Want to cuddle...then?" Your voice softer, perhaps given the quiet, almost tender exchange of time you had shared over the last hour, it felt a little strange. Perhaps edging into romantic territory but you hid your thoughts as you felt Bee move to sit up.

"C'mere then" he offered as his arms hung open.

Your momentary worry about overstepping boundaries was washed away and you shifted over into his arms, sinking into his hold as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, giving you a quick squeeze. He wasn't warm but it was still comforting. You knew how to compensate for the cons of him being a ghost. The house was always made warmer in the evenings during the colder seasons so you didn't notice the coldness of his touch, a hot water bottle also helped too. But having a cold body body hug helped in the summer. A welcomed feeling when you started to overheat. You found ways to adapt to what were issues before. Perhaps the fact you had embraced ways to make living together work had been the reason he trusted you, and you loved seeing his reaction to your ideas, you saw how he had felt seen, properly seen after decades of people wanting to just get rid of him.

You could feel as he relaxed, glancing up to see his eyes now on the screen, perhaps whatever had been troubling him had settled, he seemed more content with you in his arms. Maybe that was just your mind looking into it too much though. You weren't willing to say anything was for certain.

"Like what ya see, Tootz?"

"Shut up, Juice."

"Whatcha gunna do? Make me?"

You rolled your eyes as you watched him raised his eyebrows a few times and winked. You swatted his chest and turned back to the TV. But you were still aware of his hand on your lower back, rubbing it confortingly in small motions, something you often had needed after a long day but you supposed he had gotten so used to it that he was doing it without realising.

You hadn't really realised it until that moment but you had both slotted into living together quite well, and had learnt how best to comfort each other, even without knowingly doing so. You had him to come home to and he knew you'd always come back or let him know if you weren't. You both gave each other someone to rely on, at a time you both needed it. Perhaps that was the blessing the people before you saw as a curse.

[makelovetomebypeach]

art donaldson is reader’s ex from college, except you two never really broke it off. at least not properly.

a/n: this isn’t proofread lmfao this was written in the middle of the night i was bored but enjoyyy

-

-

-

you were looking around a gift shop for a friend visiting the city. it was nearing the end of her trip and you wanted to give her a goodbye gift to remember the moment.

the day was cold, snow falling on the streets as cars honked by. thick jackets, winter festivals, christmas trees in the windows of random houses on the street. the entirety of earth settling down to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year.

you knelt down, scanning the shelves for mugs, keychains, you name it. picking out a gift for a friend was a great art you took specialty in.

“lils, don’t run around like that with glass in your hand. drop it and i’ll have to pay.”

you nearly dropped the item in your hand at the sound. a voice that haunts you each day, one that never left your mind. what was his presence doing here?

you were cursing yourself in your mind, putting down the item almost immediately. you didn’t want anything to do with him or his life.

suddenly, a tap on your shoulder causes you to turn around. your gaze meets his beauty, the sculpture of a face he owns. he was a piece of art. literally.

the first exchange of awkward glances soon turn to smiles. past experiences flooding back in a couple seconds of silence.

“i knew it was you.” did you really know? i don’t think you remembered me at all. unless i was stored in the back of your mind like i had always wished. did you miss me too?

“oh my gosh, i haven’t seen you in forever.” you pried a smile on your face as he gave you a side hug. the proximity of your faces sickening knowing that if you’d lasted it would’ve been different.

art took a glance at the girl standing cluelessly beside him. her hand tugging on his jacket as she held up a keychain with a smile. he knelt down, nodding his head and setting a kiss on her curls before she continued her adventure. art’s attention turning back to yours after a huff from the parenting.

“that’s my daughter lily.” “that’s nice, how old?” “seven.”

seven years, and more, he spent getting over me. i never really let go. you keep a leash on my neck even though you’ve got your life together. a child? a wife? a fucking career? why do i feel so magnetized by your invisible presence? why do i, after all these years, hold so much against you, but in reality, there is nothing at all?

“are you and your family just visiting?” you wanted him to come over sometime so that you could excuse yourselves to the bathroom and make out and possibly find your spark again. would that be so evil? you didn’t think so.

he puffed his cheeks, nodding as his hands stuffed into his pockets. “just for a bit, yeah.” the signature side smile that tugged his lips made you have déjà vu.

you were proud of him for doing what you couldn’t, moving on. he found himself a life, one without you, and definitely more successful. did his wife know that you were the one he slept with at night before her? you were the one who ran your fingers through his blond curls? how did he throw you away so easily as if you were never there?

“i missed you.” “i did, too.” “no, i mean like, i really fucking missed you.”

your eyes glistened with something more. yearning, the unresolved question that hung in the air. you didn’t know whether to cry on the spot. everything was full with question marks, anger, sadness, mixes and mixes of emotions that took too much mind to handle. your breath hitched with hesitation. a reassuring smile from art, wiping the tension away.

his smile signaling his acceptance of my thoughts before speaking. “it was real, all of it. and i’m sorry for throwing it under the rug like that. we’re both well past that now, i hope. please forgive the immature mess i was back in college,” his voice paused, like a barrier to the words that were urging to come out.

his hand slipped out the pocket of his jacket, setting it on your shoulder. please, console me, my lover. help me leave the role of being the biggest fish in your sea. no matter how many hooks go through my body, i will always come back to the surface to show you my scales.

“i have to go, but i wish you a happy holidays from my family. you’ll find the one, alright?”

your breath shuddered as you saw art walk away with his daughter hand in hand. their presence disappearing like the intimacy that once remained. the bells ringing as a sign that he was gone, that was his exit. the closure that you so desperately needed all those years.

your story was always destined to be tragic. you were left behind in a dusty cloth, an heirloom soon to be found near his deathbed.

it hurts to know that you will never be loved by anyone like art donaldson again. he was only temporary to your story. you still have a journey that continues, why shed on the past if he’d already moved on?

it was worth knowing that the love was there, and it might still remain, just left unspoken.

you won’t welcome him back anymore. you won’t stay on his doorstep, scratching on the door to find your place again. instead, you’ll be waving goodbye to him from the dock, watching him getting shipped off to sea.

this is our goodbye, art. thank you for stopping by.

[cynic-spirit]

The retouch

Yn stood in front of the mirror in the club's private lounge, carefully applying her signature red lipstick. The room was buzzing with chatter as Bucky, Steve, Sam, Nick, and Thor lounged on the plush sofas, discussing business and cracking jokes.

Bucky’s eyes were glued to Yn, watching her every move with a captivated intensity. He was entranced by the sight of her applying the rich, red color to her lips. Each stroke seemed to mesmerize him more.

Steve nudged Sam, nodding toward Bucky. "Look at him," he whispered, smirking. "Completely gone."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day the great Bucky Barnes gets weak in the knees over lipstick."

Nick joined in, grinning. "He's not even paying attention to us anymore. Might as well be invisible."

Thor, with his booming voice, added, "It seems our fearsome friend has met his match in a tube of red lipstick."

Bucky barely registered their teasing, his focus unwavering. Yn, oblivious to the conversation behind her, finished touching up her lips and turned around, flashing a smile.

"Is it good?" she asked Bucky, tilting her head slightly.

Bucky blinked, momentarily lost for words. "Perfect," he finally managed to say, his voice thick with admiration.

Steve, not missing a beat, teased, "Hey Bucky, you might want to pick your jaw up off the floor."

Bucky shot him a playful glare. "Shut it, Steve."

Yn laughed softly, stepping closer to Bucky. "What are you all talking about?" she asked, glancing around at the amused faces.

Sam grinned. "Just how Bucky here is completely under your spell. One swipe of that lipstick, and he’s done for."

Bucky rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "You guys are impossible."

Thor leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Tell us, Yn, do you carry that lipstick everywhere just to keep him in check?"

Yn raised an eyebrow, amused. "I didn't realize I had such power," she said, glancing at Bucky with a playful smile.

Bucky reached out, gently taking her hand. "You have no idea," he said softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Nick laughed. "See? Completely whipped."

Yn blushed, but she didn’t pull her hand away. "Well, if it keeps him behaving, maybe I should carry it everywhere."

Steve chuckled. "Looks like you’ve found the secret, Yn."

Bucky, still holding Yn’s hand, looked at his friends. "Alright, enough. Let’s get back to business."

Yn, feeling the warmth of Bucky's hand and the sincerity in his eyes, smiled softly. She knew he was a tough, ruthless mobster, but in moments like this, she saw the tender side that he reserved only for her. And as for Bucky, every teasing remark and every captivated glance only deepened his affection for the woman who had, quite effortlessly, wrapped him around her little finger.

[slaymitchabernathy]

All in the Timing

It's later that day when Coriolanus is walking down the busy Capitol streets. Everyone is out shopping for last-minute gifts and he can't help but look into a few shop windows, admiring the pretty dresses and bags that are on display for the women. He wonders what it would be like to purchase something like that for his wife, for someone he loves. 

He's passing by the door to one of the shops when someone bumps into him.

"Oh, pardon me, I didn't look where I was going." 

Coriolanus almost falls over when he hears the soft, familiar voice that belongs to one woman and one woman only. 

He looks down to find Soarynn Nightingale looking up at him, her blue-gray eyes wide in surprise. She's bundled up in a cream-colored coat today, with her hair pulled into a bun, showing off her beautiful complexion. 

"No need to apologize, you're a rather enjoyable person to keep running into," he says, making her blush. 

"Well, it seems to be a recurring issue where we're both concerned." 

Coriolanus grins and looks down at the large bags she's holding, filled to the brim with clothes no doubt, "Allow me to carry those for you." 

Soarynn looks conflicted for a moment, as if she doesn't quite trust him and she'd have every right to not trust him. He's still a stranger. 

"Alright," she finally decides, handing over the bags, "you're very kind to offer up your services." Coriolanus chuckles as they begin walking down the sidewalk, side by side but not hand in hand. 

The scent of vanilla overwhelms him and he can only guess that it's her signature scent. It's as sweet as she is. 

"Busy day today?" He asks, lifting up the bags. Soarynn nods, fixing the collar of her coat before answering, "Last minute shopping for the company's holiday party." 

Well, it looks like he didn't need to pay Festus to fall onto the floor and act as if he was dying. 

Coriolanus pretends to be surprised, "Oh, you're going as well? Perhaps we'll see each other then." 

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, shyly looking up at him, "Maybe we will. Although Ceraphina won't be there, she's stuck with the nanny for the night." 

Coriolanus can imagine that Ceraphina's not too happy about being stuck at him instead of being the center of attention. "Is she at home right now?" He asks, trying to remember if she's old enough to be attending school yet.

Soarynn shakes her head and nods for him to take a right, "No, she's at school. I'm actually headed there now to pick her up."

"Which school is she attending?"

"The Academy." 

That sounds about right. Coriolanus attended the Academy, along with every upper-class child in the Capitol. To sport the Academy rouge is a sign of wealth. It's no surprise that Ceraphina is attending as well. 

"I do hope it's not too out of your way," Soarynn adds, eyeing the bags as if she might take them back and send him on his way. Coriolanus quickly shakes his head and offers her a reassuring smile, "Not at all, I'm headed downtown to meet a friend for a late lunch." 

Soarynn hums, chewing on her lip before asking a question, "Is it your friend I saw with you that night at the Grand Oak?" 

He didn't know she remembered Fetus but it seems that Soarynn Nightingale is more perceptive than he thought. "Yes," he confirms, the Academy building coming into view, "Festus can never turn down a free meal." Soarynn chuckles, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a silver compact with a rose engraved on it, "A free meal is a hard thing to decline."

They come to a stop at the crosswalk, traffic zooming by them and Coriolanus takes a moment to watch Soarynn as she inspects her reflection in the compact mirror. She looks stunning. He wonders what other people think of them right now.Do they see a young couple on their way to pick up their child from school?

Ceraphina could certainly pass as his daughter, with her blonde hair and blue eyes. 

"That's a lovely compact," he says, "my mother used to have one just like it." 

Soarynn snaps it shut, giving him a better view of the rose, "Thank you. It was a birthday gift from my father. Was your mother fond of roses? I think I heard something about the Snow family and their roses."

Coriolanus nods, making sure to block any traffic from hitting her as they cross the street, "Yes, my grandmother used to grow roses on the roof of our penthouse apartment. They fetched a pretty price before the war. Now I just tend to them as needed." 

Soarynn sighs, staring up at the blue sky, "Ceraphina would love something like that. She's always running around in the backyard, rain or shine." 

There's lots of commotion surrounding the Academy, older children walking home by themselves and younger children running to hug their parents after a long day of school. "Does she have much longer until the holiday break?" 

Soarynn shakes her head while scanning the sea of students, all dressed identically to one another. "No, this is her last week when then they're all off until January." 

Coriolanus begins looking for Ceraphina too, trying to pick out her blonde head of hair. It's hard when all the girls wear the same skirt and button-up shirt but he finally spots her at the top of the steps. "There she is," he points, crouching down so Soarynn can follow his line of sight. She leans into him without hesitation, lighting up when she spots her daughter. 

Ceraphina is quick to spot them too, a big smile on her face when she sees Coriolanus, "Fancy seeing you here," she says, throwing her arms around her mother's legs. Coriolanus smiles, watching Soarynn crouch down to properly hug her daughter, she's so gentle, brushing her hair out of her face, asking how her day was. 

"It seems that the stars aligned today," he replies, "I just happened to bump into your mother." 

Ceraphina eyes her mother for a moment, a small smile on her face, "Sounds like a love story to me Mommy." Soarynn scoffs, her entire face turning a bright shade of pink, "Oh hush. This is nothing like the fairy tales I read to you. Now say goodbye to Mr. Snow so we can go home." 

Coriolanus frowns, just a minute ago Soarynn was warming up to him and now she's shoving him away. Ceraphina pouts but Soarynn is firm in her decision, "I can call my driver if you two need a ride home," Coriolanus offers, handing over the bags to Soarynn. Ceraphina peers inside, gasping when she sees what's inside, "No need, we have our car waiting for us over there," Soarynn says, pointing near the the other end of the steps. 

They do in fact have a car waiting for them and Coriolanus can only nod, out of tricks and offers. "Well, it was lovely seeing you ladies again." 

Ceraphina smiles up at him, looking so cute in her tiny uniform, "Are you gonna see us again soon?" 

Coriolanus gives her a wink, "I'll try my best." 

Ceraphina giggles, looking up at her mother who doesn't look too impressed, "Have a good afternoon Mr. Snow," she says, taking Ceraphina's hand, "and thank you for carrying my bags." 

He gives her a short bow at the waist, only furthering Ceraphina's giggles, "It was my pleasure Ms. Nightingale." 

He watches them go, making sure they're tucked away in the safety of their car before he begins his own journey. He tries to think about anything else, about work, about his friends, but he keeps thinking about Soarynn. 

Running into her again has to be fate. He's just got to take that chance. 

꧁ ꧂

"Oh Coryo, you look so handsome." 

Coriolanus grins at Persephone's words as he climbs the last few steps leading up to Heavensbee Hall. Festus and Persephone make an attractive pair for tonight's party, both dressed in dark greens that compliment their complexions. 

Festus wraps his arm around his wife, giving her a playful smile, "Keep your eyes on me tonight darling, Coriolanus is on the hunt for his future wife." 

Persephone gasps, her eyes going wide with excitement, "Really?! Oh, how exciting! Who is she? Do I know her?" 

Coriolanus shakes his head, following the couple into the building that has been decorated to the fullest for the holidays with drapes and garlands, twinkling lights, and bows. "I'm not hunting for anything," he reminds Festus, "I'm simply doing some recon." 

Festus snorts, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter, "Well I've never seen someone put in so much work for 'recon' but maybe it's just your ambition talking." 

Coriolanus feels a bit caught but he won't feel ashamed for how much effort he's put into this. He cleaned up exceptionally well for tonight, making sure his curls were perfectly styled, his face freshly shaven and his suit brand new. He looks important and he feels important. 

He's a man on a mission. 

He scans the room, desperate to seek out one individual and his eyes finally land on her. Soarynn Nightingale is an absolute vision tonight, dressed in a long red dress, form-fitting in all the right places, and strapless on top of that. Her blonde hair cascades down her back, perfectly curled. 

She's standing with her father who's speaking with several other men, probably talking business. Even though tonight is supposed to be relaxed, men can't help but talk about work. 

"I'll be back," he mumbles to his friends, his legs taking him across the floor for him. Many people are already dancing while the orchestra plays a happy tune and he's got to find out if Soarynn can dance. 

She looks bored out of her mind right now, idly standing by her father's side. Her eyes meet his for a moment and she visibly lights up which gives him the green light to approach her. If he weren't interested in her then he'd greet her father and the other men first, but they all disappear from view when he sees her.

"I must say, you look absolutely beautiful tonight," he tells her, gently taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. He's not holding back on that famous Snow charm tonight. 

Soarynn grins, looking him up and down before giving him an approving nod, "I must say, you clean up nicely Mr. Snow." His last name rolls off her tongue so effortlessly and he longs to give it to her. 

Coriolanus smiles down at her, admiring how long her lashes are, how soft her lips look, and how good she smells. "I had to clean up once I knew you'd be here," he replies smoothly, "and your father too," he adds, reaching his hand out to Glen. 

Soarynn's father seems more than pleased at their interaction and gives his hand a firm shake, "No need to impress me Coriolanus, I'm far less high maintenance than my daughter is." They all chuckle when Soarynn gives her father a playful shove, "One can never be too careful," Coriolanus decides. 

Glen turns to the other men he was speaking to, all men who look very important which means they probably write lots of paychecks. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Coriolanus Snow, he works at the firm." 

Coriolanus hadn't planned on being introduced to the higher-ups but he's more than glad to leave a lasting impression, "A pleasure to meet all of you," he says, nodding at each man. 

"You're Crassus Snow's boy aren't you?" One of them asks, sporting a very large mustache. Coriolanus nods, "Yes sir, I'm doing my best to follow in his footsteps." 

"Well I'd say you're doing more than that," Glen tells him, giving his shoulder a pat. 

Coriolanus looks back down at Soarynn for a moment, not wanting to ignore her and she's already looking up at him, and she looks...impressed. 

"Thank you, sir," Coriolanus says, not willing to let such a compliment go to waste. His whole life he's been trying to live up to the Snow name. Glen eyes his daughter for a second, a small smile growing on his face, "Yes. Well, don't let us stop you two from enjoying your night." 

Soarynn's eyes slightly widen but Coriolanus won't let this moment go to waste, "Do you dance?" He asks her, hoping she'll say yes. 

She brushes her hair behind her ears, giving him a small nod, "I do." 

"Allow me the honor to dance with you then?" 

Soarynn looks at her father, almost as if waiting for permission but all she gets in return is an amused look from Glen, "Alright," she finally says. 

Coriolanus offers her his hand and she takes it, instantly warming his skin. It's just his luck that the orchestra strikes up a lively tune, allowing them to fall into a waltz. Coriolanus slips one hand around her waist, guiding them through the steps and she keeps up with him tremendously well. 

Soarynn giggles when he spins her around and it's music to his ears. He wants to make her giggle all the time. 

It feels so right to have her in his arms, by his side, safe and sound. He doesn't know what Soarynn is looking for, but he'd take such good care of her and Ceraphina. 

Once the music comes to an end they're both out of breath and he's ready for a drink. "Would you like something to drink?" He asks, sliding his hand down to the small of her waist. Soarynn doesn't even blink at that movement, simply nodding, "Yes, dancing always leaves me parched." 

They both walk over to the bar where Coriolanus orders bourbon for him and champagne for Soarynn. "You don't like bourbon?" He asks, wondering if she has a preference. Soarynn shakes her head, "I'm partial to anything sweet, and bourbon is not sweet." Coriolanus chuckles, handing her the glass of bubbly champagne, "You just haven't been drinking the right bourbon. I'll have to show you my collection." 

Soarynn takes a sip of her champagne, humming contentedly, "Why am I not surprised that you have a collection?" 

Coriolanus takes his glass from the bartender, thanking the man before turning back to Soarynn, "It's actually a rite of passage for a man to start some collection of alcohol. Festus collects wine, and I collect bourbon. I bet your father has quite the collection at home." 

Soarynn rolls her eyes, taking another sip. The drink must be loosening her up because she's much more comfortable around him now, almost leaning into his touch, "My father has collections for everything. Books, photographs, drinks. It never ends."

 

Coriolanus wonders where they live, he's never seen them on the Corso and that's where all the rich families live. "What street are you on?"

"Cornelia Street." 

Coriolanus almost chokes on his drink, she's only a block away and he never knew it. Cornelia Street is known for its gorgeous townhouses with private backyards and spacious rooms. Most Capitolites live in apartments but the few who can afford it live in townhouses. It's not surprising that Glen Nightingale resides on such a prominent street. 

"I'm on the Corso," he tells her. Soarynn grins, tilting her head, "Really? I would've never thought," she teases. 

More and more people spill into the Hall, the party getting even louder making it more difficult to hear her, "Do you want to go somewhere more quiet?" He asks, hoping for a more intimate space to talk. Soarynn furrows her brows and glances over at her father who's wrapped up in several conversations. 

Coriolanus leans down so that his lips are right next to her ear, "You're in good hands I promise." 

Soarynn bites her lip, weighing her options in her head before she finally nods, "Alright." 

꧁ ꧂

The air is cold but it feels wonderful after being cooped up in a room with so many people. Soarynn sighs, tilting her head back as they walk out onto the balcony, "Much better than inside," she decides, looking at him from over her shoulder. 

Coriolanus smiles, admiring her dress again, how it's the perfect shade of red, how it's just the right length. It's only missing a rose or two. Her shoulders are already covered in goosebumps so he doesn't hesitate to shrug off his suit jacket, "Here, don't want you to catch a cold out here." 

Soarynn looks so genuinely surprised when he covers her shoulder with his jacket, and it makes him wonder if Felix ever offered her his coat. He barely spoke to Felix but he does recall him mentioning a girl he was courting every once in a while. It sounded like a business agreement more than a relationship to Coriolanus who was happy being free as a bird. 

"Thank you," she says softly. 

They both stare out into the open sky for a while, enjoying the silence. "You know I almost didn't come tonight," she says, breaking the silence. Coriolanus looks down at her, but she keeps staring straight ahead, "Why not?"

Soarynn shrugs, "Not really my scene. My father practically bribed me into agreeing to come in the first place. I always feel terrible when I have to leave Ceraphina behind." 

Coriolanus can't recall a single time when Soarynn hasn't been without Ceraphina since he met them. "You two are inseparable," he decides, "she's very lucky to have you." 

Soarynn softly chuckles, shaking her head, "I'm the lucky one. She's my biggest blessing, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her." 

Coriolanus wants to ask her about Felix, about the accident and how it all happened but...he doesn't. He prefers her company over finding out her secrets. 

"She's very close with you," he observes, "and she looks just like you."

Soarynn nods, picking at her cuticles, "Well she doesn't really have a choice." 

Coriolanus swallows, leaning against the balcony railing so that they're almost at eye level, "Her father isn't around anymore?" He carefully asks, not wanting to pry but if she's willing to talk about it, he's more than happy to listen. He has a feeling that she doesn't have a lot of people to talk to about all of this.

"Her father is dead." 

Coriolanus watches her face carefully for any signs of tears but he finds none, only the hardened face of an independent woman who's raised an amazing little girl on her own. "He died before Ceraphina was born," Soarynn continues, picking at her skin even more and Coriolanus reaches out to take her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. 

For a second he worries that he crossed the line but Soarynn only squeezes his hand tighter, "It was a car crash, no one saw it coming. Especially not me since I was newly pregnant. I didn't even go to the funeral which only led his parents to hate me even more." 

Coriolanus rubs his thumb across the back of her hand, back and forth, "Her father was Felix Ravenstill wasn't he?" 

Soarynn nods, her eyes trained on their intertwined hands, "His mother called me a slut when we found out I was pregnant, even though it was her son who pressured me into having sex with him, no protection of course because he's always been so good at pulling out. Turns out he wasn't." Soarynn gives him a bitter smile and Coriolanus can feel his heart break for her. 

"You didn't deserve that," he tells her, "he shouldn't have pressured you and she had no right calling you a slut." 

Soarynn sighs, her shoulders sagging, "Doesn't matter. Felix is dead, he honestly got off easier than I did. I was terrified to tell my father but he's been my biggest supporter, making sure Ceraphina and I have everything we could ever need. He thought Felix would take care of me but he always wanted to just help himself and fuck around without getting in trouble." 

Coriolanus wishes Felix were still here so he could give him a piece of his mind. How could he hurt a girl as sweet as Soarynn?

"Felix was selfish," Coriolanus says slowly, not wanting to say the wrong thing about a very sensitive topic, "but he left you with something irreplaceable. Something that only you could make because when I look at Ceraphina, it's like I'm looking at you Soarynn."

She sniffles, quickly wiping away a stray tear from her cheek, "You don't even know me. You don't even know me and yet my daughter keeps asking about you and I find myself feeling completely safe in your presence."

Her words make his heart beat faster, it almost breaks out of his chest. "Well you two make it easy," he jokes, "you're both so sweet, and it's hard not to fall in love with Ceraphina's personality."

Soarynn laughs, nodding along with him, "I don't know where she came from," she admits, "I feel like she's nothing like me sometimes. So sweet and outgoing, so confident and brave. She's got a million friends at school and I don't have a single one right now. Without her, I would've never found you."

Coriolanus gently cups her face with his hand, her words striking something within him that he never knew existed. Soarynn looks up at him and he can see so many things in her dazzling eyes.

Uncertainty, nervousness, hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe some love.

"I think I've been looking for you my entire life," he admits, "and if you'll let me, I'd like to be there for you, be by your side, support you and every dream you've ever had. Let me take care of you Soarynn, I promise I'll be a better man than Felix."

Soarynn draws in a shaky breath like she doesn't believe him, "I have a daughter," she reminds him, "you won't get one without the other. Where I go, Ceraphina goes as well. That's probably why I haven't had much luck in finding a partner," she mumbles the last part but he won't have any of it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he assures her, "I plan on taking care of both of you and if I ever falter, you have permission to drag me and my name through the streets."

Soarynn's lips turn up into a soft smile, "I don't understand where you came from. It feels like this happened out of nowhere and I'm still waiting for an explanation."

Coriolanus rests his forehead against hers, leaving them mere inches apart.

"It's all in the timing."

| Part 2. | Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[tonycries]

FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you. 

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table. 

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too. 

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint. 

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight. 

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again. 

You notice - of course, you do. 

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way. 

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!” 

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos. 

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out. 

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head. 

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso. 

Mom? 

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst. 

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt. 

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page. 

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-” 

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better. 

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly. 

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM. 

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with. 

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake. 

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers. 

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.” 

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity. 

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering. 

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe. 

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose. 

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five. 

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching. 

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder. 

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-” 

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum. 

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high. 

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch. 

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.” 

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue. 

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck- 

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins. 

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him. 

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate. 

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut. 

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass. 

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course. 

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock. 

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and- 

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago. 

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more- 

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?” 

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so. 

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again. 

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick. 

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh. 

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.