#this might be nothing at all but i’ll tag in case

[nonbinarylesbianherb]

THIS SCENE IN THE MID-SEASON TRAILER OF UNHUSKED ALICE SURELY MEANS SHE’S ALIVE RIGHT!?

[ramonathinks]

matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished. 

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one. 

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person. 

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.” 

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat. 

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.” 

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that. 

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months. 

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke. 

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.” 

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried. 

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago. 

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful. 

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand. 

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?” 

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself. 

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t. 

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before. 

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him. 

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial. 

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him. 

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him? 

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in. 

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid. 

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water. 

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?” 

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events. 

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more. 

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud. 

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum. 

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you. 

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.  

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his. 

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body –  focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you. 

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation. 

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling. 

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves. 

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you. 

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response. 

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs. 

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.” 

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered. 

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow. 

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other. 

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.” 

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex. 

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews. 

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too. 

[kiwriteswords]

Hotch and Reader are both in love with each other and have been for years but are both too professional and care too mcuh about work and ruining things so they dont get together but they end up getting together finally. its angsty and delicious!! with a happy ending ofc! (bonus if smut is added at all!?!?!)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: So sorry this one took so long to share, anon! I hope it's all you hoped for! xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, feelings un-acknowledged, canon-typical injuries, language, fade-to-black smut, sexual themes, friends with benefits, friends with benefits turned relationship, slow burn, family dynamics, intimacy with feelings, proposal, talk of marriage.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner has always been a man of order and control, carefully compartmentalizing the demands of his work and personal life. But when a long-standing partnership with a member of his team—you—begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, he’s forced to confront feelings he’s buried for years.

Aaron Hotchner had always been good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill he'd honed over years of leading the BAU, of balancing the chaos of his work and the fragile peace of his home life—or what passed for home these days. And you? You were a complication he never anticipated but somehow couldn’t imagine his life without.

You’d been with the team for years, carving your place with sharp wit, unwavering competence, and a sense of humor that could soften even the darkest days. Somewhere along the way, your partnership had morphed into something more. Late nights at the office became late nights at his apartment, pouring over files as Jack played in the living room. Work dinners turned into shared takeout meals, laughter filling his kitchen. And the tension—the chemistry between you both—it became a thread stretched taut, always on the brink of snapping.

But neither of you ever said a word.

Hotch couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, exactly. Maybe it was the time you showed up with a Batman figurine for Jack, just because he’d mentioned liking the character once. Or the way you sat with him on the couch after Haley’s death, saying nothing, just being there when he needed it most. Or the way you touched his shoulder during a case, grounding him when his anger threatened to boil over.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, you were a constant in his life, and he had no idea how he’d let you become that. Friends with benefits, the team might have called it if they weren’t too polite to say it out loud. But it wasn’t just the sex—though that was undeniable. It was the quiet moments. The way you fit seamlessly into his life, into Jack’s life. Like you belonged.

Like you were family.

Hotch watched you now, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a game controller in hand, as Jack giggled beside you. You feigned frustration as Jack’s character beat yours on the screen, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“You’re cheating,” you teased, pointing an accusatory finger at Jack, who grinned up at you.

“I am not!” Jack protested, his voice full of glee. “You’re just bad at this.”

“Bad at this?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d mortally wounded you. “I’ll have you know I used to be the reigning champion at this game.”

Jack tilted his head, squinting at you skeptically. “When? Like, a hundred years ago?”

Hotch couldn’t hold back a laugh from the couch, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Careful, Jack. She might just ground you for that one.”

You spun around, pointing the controller at Hotch like a weapon. “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on Jack’s side,” he said smoothly, the rare smile tugging at his lips, softening the tease. “He’s clearly the underdog here.”

Jack beamed, puffing out his chest. “See? Dad gets it.”

“Traitors,” you muttered, shaking your head dramatically before turning back to the game. “Fine. But if I win the next round, you both owe me ice cream.”

Jack laughed harder, leaning against you as if you’d always been there. “You’re not winning,” he declared. “And even if you do, I pick the flavor. No weird ones.”

“No weird ones? Jack, I have excellent taste. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.”

“Mint chocolate chip is gross,” Jack said, sticking out his tongue.

You gasped in mock outrage. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far.”

Hotch set his mug down, leaning back into the couch as he watched the scene unfold. This was his favorite view: you and Jack, a picture of domesticity he didn’t dare name.

The ache in his chest was familiar by now. Warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

Later, after Jack had gone to bed, Hotch found you in the kitchen, drying the dishes. It was a quiet ritual you’d fallen into over time, one neither of you had ever acknowledged aloud. The hum of the dishwasher and the soft clinking of plates filled the space between you, but it was far from silent. The weight of everything unspoken lingered, just like it always did.

Your shoulder brushed his as you reached for a glass, the simple contact sending ripples of awareness through him. It was ridiculous, he thought, how something so small could affect him so much. But that was how it had always been with you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, though he already knew the answer.

You glanced at him, a hint of amusement in your expression. “You know I don’t mind.”

Of course, you didn’t. You never minded. Whether it was a case of collapsing into bed together after a high-stakes day or nights like these—quiet, uneventful, and free of tension—you always stayed. It wasn’t just about the times the chemistry boiled over; it was about all the moments in between. The ones that felt effortless.

Hotch set the last plate on the drying rack and turned toward you, wiping his hands on a towel. “Jack really likes having you here,” he said, his tone conversational but deliberate. “He talks about you all the time.”

“And you?” you asked lightly, with a teasing lilt that tried to downplay the weight of your question. “Do you like having me here?”

His brow lifted, a rare smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I? You help with chores and keep Jack entertained. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “Deflect all you want, Hotchner. I know you’d be lost without me.”

He allowed himself a small chuckle, one that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though his voice held more warmth than his words. “But I like having you here. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard for just a moment, but you recovered quickly, the teasing smile returning to your lips. “Good,” you said simply, returning to dry the last dish.

By the time the house had settled into silence, Hotch found himself in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unwound from the day. He heard your soft footsteps before you appeared in the doorway, your presence familiar and steady. You didn’t pause or hesitate, instead crossing the room to climb into the bed—his bed, though it had long since stopped feeling like just his.

You always stayed, and it had become a routine neither of you commented on. The guest room was just there for show, untouched and unnecessary. Some nights, the pull of tension between you snapped, leaving no room for words or space. Both of you would end up breathless and wanting in bed. Other nights, like this one, were quieter. Still, you stayed.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” you asked, your voice low and tinged with humor. You were already lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, as you watched him with a curious gaze.

Hotch smirked faintly, shaking his head as he joined you, slipping under the covers. “I thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet,” he replied, his tone dry.

“I don’t think you’d know what peace and quiet were if it hit you in the face,” you shot back, though your words held no bite.

He settled beside you, his arm coming around you instinctively as you shifted closer. It was a gesture that felt as natural as breathing now, one neither of you ever acknowledged, but both seemed to rely on.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft against the stillness of the room, “it’s kind of funny how we never talk about this.”

“This?” he echoed, though his hand lightly tracing circles on your back betrayed the calmness of his tone.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “Me staying. Us… whatever this is.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered his response. “Talking about it might ruin it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile he couldn’t see in the dark but could feel in the way your body relaxed against his. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of the things neither of you dared to say aloud. And as you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest, Hotch allowed himself the brief indulgence of pretending that this—your warmth, your presence—was something permanent. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Your company was appreciated and needed more than Hotch knew, even at work. The case was brutal. A family annihilator who preyed on vulnerabilities, using twisted logic to justify his violence. Hotch could feel the weight pressing down on him, but he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were there, as you always were, your presence steadying him.

When the unsub was in custody, and the team returned to the precinct, you lingered in the corner, watching him. He could feel your gaze like a physical touch as if you were daring him to break the silence that stretched between you.

“You okay?” you asked finally, your voice soft. Never prying. 

He nodded, but the truth hung in the air, unspoken. He wasn’t okay. Neither were you. But that was the deal, wasn’t it? To keep moving forward without acknowledging the things that could break you.

That night, back at the hotel, the weight of the day lingered on Hotch’s shoulders, pressing harder with every passing moment. Cases involving families always hit him differently, carving into the parts of himself he worked so hard to protect. But tonight, something else tugged at him—a sharper, deeper ache he couldn’t shake. It was you. It was always you.

He’d known you’d come. You always did on nights like this, when the line between partner and something more blurred into nothingness. The knock on his door was soft but unmistakable, and when he opened it, there you were, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this wasn’t an unspoken ritual.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway,” you said, your voice low, tinged with exhaustion but still carrying that edge of teasing familiarity.

“Neither were you,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

The door closed softly behind you, but the tension in the room was anything but quiet. It filled the space between you like a storm waiting to break. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, and Hotch couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on you—the curve of your shoulders, the set of your jaw, the flicker of vulnerability in your expression you probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

“Rough day,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “They always are.”

You crossed the room, your steps slow and deliberate, until you were standing just in front of him. “But this one was worse,” you said softly, your voice lacking the teasing edge it usually carried. “For both of us.”

Hotch didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing harder than ever. But you didn’t seem to need his response. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze steady, searching, and then you moved closer.

It happened all at once and yet not at all suddenly, as though it had been building for hours. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate as if he was afraid you might vanish. And you let him, meeting his intensity with your own, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him as tightly as he held you.

It wasn’t just adrenaline from the case or the pull of attraction that neither of you could deny. It was the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was the only way either of you knew how to deal with the weight of the lives you led. It was raw, honest, and utterly consuming.

You tugged at his tie, loosening it with practiced ease, your movements steady but charged with purpose. His breath hitched as your hands brushed against his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with a deliberate slowness that had his pulse racing. His own hands mirrored your urgency, sliding under the fabric of your blouse, feeling the heat of your skin against his palms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough but soft, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused just long enough to look into your eyes. The question wasn’t about this moment—it was about everything. About stepping closer to the line, you both swore you wouldn’t cross but had already blurred so many times.

You didn’t answer with words; instead, you pulled him back into a kiss, which was softer this time but no less consuming. Your lips moved against his in a way that spoke of trust, of understanding, of a desire too strong to deny. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say aloud into the way he held you.

When you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, your voice was low and steady. “I’m here, Aaron. Always.”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him gave way. He guided you toward the bed with a gentle but unwavering urgency, his hands never leaving you. The soft glow of the room’s lamp cast warm shadows across your features as you looked up at him, your expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty that made his chest tighten.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain.

When you reached up to touch his face, brushing your fingers against the faint stubble along his jaw, he leaned into your touch instinctively. “Aaron,” you said again, his name a quiet anchor pulling him further into you.

He tilted his head down, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“I think I do,” you replied softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Because it’s the same thing you do to me.”

The admission hung between you like a fragile truth, one neither of you had dared voice before. But instead of shattering the moment, it only seemed to deepen the connection that pulsed in the quiet space between your bodies.

Hotch’s hands found the hem of your blouse, his movements deliberate as he slid it up and over your head. His fingertips brushed your skin, the contact sending sparks of warmth that spread through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your touch steady despite the tremor of anticipation that hummed in the air.

When you finally settled on the bed, his weight pressing into the mattress beside you, the world outside the walls of the hotel room ceased to exist. The past, with all its heartache and shadows, faded away, leaving only the present—this moment, this connection, this intimacy you both shared.

Hotch leaned over you, one hand bracing himself beside your head, the other trailing along the curve of your side. The way he touched you was reverent like he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the quiet intensity of the moment.

But there was something else beneath that tenderness—a tension he could no longer hold back. His lips pressed harder against yours, the kiss deepening with a newfound urgency. His hand slid from your side to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you closer as if closing the space between you would somehow quiet the storm raging inside him.

When you gasped softly against his mouth, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, usually so controlled, were filled with something raw, something unguarded. "Tell me if it’s too much," he said, his voice rough, the words both a request and a warning.

Your answer came not in words but in the way you hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as if daring him to let go. “It’s never too much,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flush of heat in your cheeks.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid up your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was demanding, consuming, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

Hotch’s other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access as he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his breath warm against your skin. When his teeth grazed just enough to make you shiver, he chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Still okay?” he murmured, though the way his hands gripped your waist betrayed his struggle to hold back.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The restraint that usually defined him seemed to unravel as his kisses grew rougher, his hands exploring with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. He shifted, guiding you further back onto the bed, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. The way he moved, the way he touched you—it was as if he was trying to claim you, to prove that this moment, this connection, belonged to both of you and no one else.

As his lips returned to yours, his hands found yours, pinning them gently above your head. His weight and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of anticipation through you. "You’re mine tonight," he said, the words rough but filled with a quiet reverence that made your breath hitch.

“And what about tomorrow?” you teased softly, though your voice trembled with the weight of the moment.

Hotch’s grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his expression darkening with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. “Let me have tonight first,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, and completely his.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain. Times like this, when cases were especially bad, it was a little rougher than tender, but neither of you seemed to mind.

The silence in the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been shouted without words. Hotch’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath your head, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, grounding both of you in a moment that felt suspended in time. The storm of the night had calmed, leaving in its wake a raw, unfiltered intimacy that neither of you could explain—or acknowledge.

But then you shifted.

The movement was subtle at first, just a slight pull away from his side, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He felt your warmth leave him as you turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He watched as you reached for your clothes, your movements slow but deliberate, your back to him.

“You’re leaving?” The words came out gruffer than he intended, his voice low and edged with something he couldn’t quite define—something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing on the fabric in your hands. “I should,” you said quietly, though your tone lacked conviction. “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Hotch sat up then, the sheet pooling around his waist as he leaned forward. “You usually stay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression guarded, but your eyes betrayed you. They always did. “It’s different tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Different how?”

You stood, pulling on your shirt as if the action might shield you from the conversation you were both teetering on the edge of having. “I don’t know,” you said finally, shaking your head. “It just… it feels too close. Like if I stay, it’ll mean something.”

Hotch swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He reached for your wrist, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop you. “It already means something,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to face him. “We don’t talk about this, Aaron. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” he admitted, his grip loosening just enough to let you pull away if you wanted. “But tonight—” He paused, the words catching in his throat. “Tonight, I don’t want you to go.”

That stopped you. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both refused to say hung between you. You looked at him like you were trying to decipher some unspoken truth, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze. He couldn’t. He needed you to understand.

“I don’t know if I can,” you said finally, your voice wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing now, closing the space between you. His hands found your shoulders, grounding you just as yours had grounded him earlier. “Just for tonight. Stay.”

Your walls were up; he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, and your shoulders tensed. But he could also see the crack in your resolve, the way your lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something you might regret. You nodded slowly, and his hands dropped from your shoulders, relief washing over him in a way he didn’t entirely understand.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch stepped back, giving you space even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull you closer. You climbed back into the bed, your movements slower this time, less certain. When you finally settled beside him, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence was heavy with understanding. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and he didn’t know if either of you could keep pretending this wasn’t something more. But for now, it didn’t matter.

You were here, and that was enough.

The room was quiet again, save for the rhythmic hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the faint sounds of life beyond the walls. You were back beside him, though the space between your bodies felt heavier than before, as if the rawness of what had just happened was an invisible barrier neither of you wanted to cross.

Hotch’s arm rested lightly on your back, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder in slow, deliberate motions. He could feel the tension in your body, the way your breathing was steady but shallow, as though you were trying to keep your emotions at bay. He didn’t push; he never did. But tonight, the weight of everything unspoken was almost suffocating.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less firm than it had been when he asked you to stay.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at him, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, and there it was—your defense, sharp and ready, a shield to deflect the vulnerability threatening to surface.

“No.” The word came out before he could stop it, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your eyes softened just slightly, but you quickly masked it, shifting to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels… different,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like the other times.”

Hotch turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. “It is different,” he said, his gaze steady on you. “But I think it’s always been different. We just don’t say it.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh, turning your head to meet his eyes. “We’re not exactly great at saying things, are we?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little humor in it. “No, we’re not.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if trying to absorb his words without letting them take hold. When you opened them again, there was something softer in your gaze, something that looked a lot like surrender. “You scare me sometimes,” you admitted quietly. “Not in the way you think. Just… the way you make me feel.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Because I do.”

The air between you shifted then, the tension softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked as though daring each other to break the silence. Then, slowly, you reached for him, your hand finding his and lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly, almost as if reassuring yourself as much as him. “But just for tonight.”

It was always more than just tonight. 

Hotch nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned down to kiss your forehead—a gesture so tender it felt almost out of place between the two of you. “Just for tonight,” he echoed, though the way his hand tightened around yours betrayed the truth.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, and for a while, you both lay there in silence, the unspoken words still hanging in the air but no longer suffocating. Whatever this was between you—messy, undefined, and terrifying—it was enough for now. It had to be.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on control. In his work, in his demeanor, in the way he navigated the chaos of the BAU—it was a skill he had honed to perfection. And yet, when it came to you, control felt like a slippery thing, something he grasped at but never fully held.

The days following that night settled back into the rhythm you and Hotch always maintained—something hovering between routine and denial. At work, you were as efficient and professional as ever, the picture of a seamless partnership. You exchanged clipped updates about cases, worked in sync during briefings, and traded subtle glances across the room that said more than words ever could.

Outside of work, the lines blurred more than ever. You still joined Hotch and Jack for movie nights, helped Jack with his homework, and shared quiet dinners that felt far too domestic for two colleagues who claimed not to be anything more. You fell back into bed together on those nights when the tension boiled over (and many nights when you both were just too tired not to just be), and yet neither of you ever spoke about what it meant. That was the unspoken agreement: not to name it because naming it would make it real.

It worked. Until Beth.

She had been kind, warm, and direct in a way that took him by surprise. Meeting her at the park had been pleasant enough—a chance encounter during one of his runs training for the triathlon. She’d struck up a conversation easily, and before he realized what was happening, she was smiling at him in that way, the kind of way that left no question about her intentions.

“I-I could use some tips--if you’re not busy?” she’d asked, her tone light but confident.

For a moment, Hotch froze. His first thought, inexplicably, was of you—how you’d look at him if you knew, the slight quirk of your brow, the teasing edge in your voice. And yet, beneath that, there was something else. Something heavier.

“I—” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t know my schedule. I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, as you sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through a case file while Jack played nearby out of hearing, Hotch broke the silence.

“Someone asked me out today,” he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. 

You didn’t look up immediately, your focus still on the file, but he caught the way your hand stilled on the page. “Oh?” you said lightly, though the tightness in your tone betrayed you. “Anyone I know?”

He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “A woman I met at the park. Beth.”

“Beth,” you repeated, setting the file down. You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “And what did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He paused, studying your reaction closely. “It felt… strange.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Strange how? Like you haven’t been asked out in a while? Or…?”

Hotch sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like it would be wrong. Like I’d be… cheating.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Cheating? Aaron, we’re not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But it still felt that way.”

You leaned back against the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. “How would you feel,” you asked after a long pause, “if someone asked me out?”

The question was quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you. Hotch’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His first instinct was to deflect, to downplay it, but the truth was already clawing its way to the surface. His eyes darkened at the thought. 

“I’d hate it,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I’d hate it, and I’d probably want to throw a punch.”

Your eyes widened slightly, his uncharacteristic bluntness catching you off guard. But instead of teasing him, you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you mirrored his posture. “Really?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“Really,” he replied, and then, after a pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There was a time… that officer in Seattle, the one who wouldn’t stop hitting on you.”

You blinked, clearly startled by the shift in the conversation. “The one who called me ‘darlin’’ every five minutes?”

Hotch nodded, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I had all I could do not to step in. Every time he touched your arm or found some excuse to be near you, I—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to will away the irritation that still simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t professional.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “You were jeal-ous.”

“I wasn’t—” he started to protest, but the sharp look you gave him cut him off.

“You were totally jealous,” you said, your smile widening. “You hated that someone else even thought about getting near me.”

Hotch shifted in his seat, his expression stern but not quite able to hide the faint flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You tilted your head, your gaze playful but laced with something warmer, deeper. “You know, it’s kind of hot.”

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, though the way he avoided your eyes betrayed him.

You laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension between you. “Fine. But admit it—you wouldn’t like it if someone else was interested in me.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t. Because…” He sighed, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair. “Because it would mean someone else has something I want but won’t let myself have.”

The confession hung between you, raw and unfiltered. You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening, though there was still a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Aaron…”

“I know we don’t talk about this,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “But you asked, and that’s the truth.”

You leaned back again, your arms wrapping around yourself as if for protection. “I don’t think I’d like it much either,” you admitted quietly, scrunching your nose at the thought. “If someone else had what I already think of as mine.”

Hotch’s breath caught at your words, and for a moment, the weight of what you’d both said seemed too much to bear. But then you looked at him, and something in your expression shifted—a quiet resolve that mirrored his own.

“We’re really bad at this, huh?” you said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Terrible,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly despite himself.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but it was also full of understanding. Neither of you had the answers, and maybe you never would. But for now, the truth was out there, raw and unspoken, just like everything else between you. And somehow, that was enough. For now.

Life fell back into its strange, unspoken rhythm. You and Hotch continued your routines, the moments that felt too much like a relationship carefully tucked away, ignored but ever-present.

Hotch had made his decision about Beth without much thought, declining her offer politely but firmly. He told himself it was because his life didn’t allow for complications like dating, but he knew the real reason. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and neither did you. But sometimes, when you caught his eye across the bullpen or during a quiet moment at his apartment, there was a weight in your gaze that mirrored his own. It was easier not to talk about it.

The unsub had been cornered, a desperate man with nothing left to lose. Hotch could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his hand twitched around the gun. You stood a few feet away, crouched behind a car door, your gun trained on the suspect.

“Put it down,” Hotch commanded, his voice steady, calm, despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

The unsub didn’t move, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch like a cornered animal. Then, in an instant, he shifted his aim—toward you.

It happened so fast that Hotch didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He moved before the shot rang out, his body blocking the line of fire as he tackled you to the ground. Pain flared in his shoulder, sharp and searing, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rolled to shield you as Morgan and the local PD took the unsub down, disarming him within seconds.

“Aaron!” Your voice was sharp, filled with anger and panic as you shoved him off you, your hands immediately moving to his shoulder. “Are you—damn it, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine!” You glared at him, your hands pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as the medics approached. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wasn’t going to let you get shot,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t argue as the medics came to his side. 

Hotch sat in the back of the ambulance, his jacket discarded and his shirt pulled down over his good shoulder to expose the wound. The paramedic worked efficiently, stitching up the graze with practiced precision. He barely winced, his focus not on the pain but on you.

You were pacing a few feet away, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you muttered to yourself. He could tell by the sharpness of your movements and the tension in your jaw that you were furious. He also knew it wasn’t just anger; it was fear, worry, and something else neither of you would admit.

“Does she know you’re okay?” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. Hotch turned to see Rossi and Morgan standing at the back of the ambulance, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“She knows,” Hotch replied curtly, his tone dismissive.

“She doesn’t look like she knows,” Morgan said, nodding toward you. “She looks like she’s about to tear you a new one.”

Hotch sighed, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine.”

“Will she?” Rossi asked, his tone pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole act the two of you have going is starting to wear thin.”

“What act?” Hotch asked, though he already knew the answer.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “The one where you two pretend you don’t have feelings for each other. It’s getting old, Hotch. And frankly, it’s not doing anyone any good.”

Rossi crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Hotch. “You put yourself in the line of fire for her, Aaron. We all would have done it, but you didn’t think twice. That’s not just leadership. That’s something else.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering briefly to you before he looked back at them. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Rossi said, his voice gentler now. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. You’re not protecting her by pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re just making it harder—for both of you.”

Hotch didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor of the ambulance. The paramedic finished the stitches and stepped back, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of Rossi and Morgan’s words.

When he finally looked up again, you were still pacing, your anger radiating off you in waves. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Rossi was right.

The atmosphere back at the BAU was tense, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of the recent case. Hotch moved through the bullpen with his usual efficiency, though the stiffness in his shoulder and the dull ache radiating from the stitches served as a constant reminder of how the day had started.

You were another reminder.

Since the moment he got out of that ambulance and was cleared to finish the case, you’d been snapping at him—sharp comments about his paperwork, curt responses to his questions, even a pointed remark about his “reckless heroics” during the case. It was all thinly veiled anger, but it wasn’t lost on anyone. Rossi shot him a knowing glance as he passed; Morgan smirked but wisely stayed out of it, and even JJ looked like she was holding back a comment. He’s pretty sure he even heard a scoffing laugh out of Emily at one of your brattier comments. 

“Hotch,” you said sharply, interrupting his conversation with Reid about a case update. “If you want those reports done before midnight, you might want to clarify what you actually need. Or is guessing part of the job now?”

Reid froze mid-sentence, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The tension in the room was palpable, and Hotch’s patience, already worn thin by the soreness in his shoulder and the mental fatigue of the case, snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but controlled. “My office. Now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he reached for your elbow and guided you firmly toward his office. The rest of the team watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as you allowed yourself to be led, though the fury in your eyes was unmistakable.

Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door behind you, the sound louder than it needed to be. He released your arm, his hand lingering for only a second before he stepped back, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “You just dragged me in here like I’m fucking child.”

“You’ve been snapping at me all day,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “What do you expect me to do? Let you keep undermining me in front of the team?”

“Oh, so now I’m undermining you?” you said, your voice rising. “God forbid anyone have a reaction to you throwing yourself in front of a bullet.”

“I did what I had to do,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s my job to protect the team.”

“You’re not invincible, Aaron!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly on his name. “You can’t just—do that, and then act like everything’s fine. Like we’re all fine.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration in check. He was tired. Tired from the case. Tired from the injury. Tired of the running.

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let you get hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what about you getting hurt?” you fired back. “Do you think any of us would be okay with that? Do you think I would?”

Hotch froze, the intensity in your voice cutting through his fatigue and frustration. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The raw emotion in your eyes, the way your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to keep yourself composed—it was almost too much.

“This isn’t about the case, is it?” he asked, his voice softer now, though there was an edge of steel to it. “You’re not just angry about what happened.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you turned away, your arms tightening around yourself as if to create some kind of barrier.

Hotch took a step closer, his tone steady but tinged with something softer, something almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

You turned back to him, your eyes blazing with anger, but beneath it, he could see something else—fear, worry, hurt. “Why should I? We never talk about anything. Not really.”

The words hit him like a blow, the truth in them undeniable. And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.

Hotch stood still, every muscle in his body taut as he let your words settle in the air. The frustration and fire in your voice cut through him, but it was the vulnerability underneath that made him pause. He had always prided himself on reading people, on staying composed no matter the situation, but you had a way of stripping him bare, of making him feel exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “Every time you step in front of danger, every time you put yourself in harm’s way for me—it eats at me. And then you have the nerve to act like it’s just another day at the office, like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t act like it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through your words. “But we can’t afford for it to mean what you think it does.”

“And why is that?” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Because it might make you feel something real? Because it might mean admitting that this—whatever this is—actually matters?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t understand, but the truth was, you understood better than anyone. “Because if something happens to you,” he said finally, his voice low but cracking at the edges, “it would destroy me.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “And you think it’s any different for me? You think watching you throw yourself in front of a bullet didn’t tear me apart? God, Aaron, don’t you get it? You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair, his composure fraying with every word you spoke. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded. “From being hurt? From feeling? Because if that’s your plan, it’s not working. I’m already hurt. I’ve been hurt for years because we refuse to deal with this.”

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked, spinning back to face you, his voice rising. “That we can just talk about it and everything will magically be fine?”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t fine either. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away—it just makes it worse.”

The room was suffocating now, the air thick with all the words neither of you had said for years. Hotch’s mind raced, every argument, every excuse colliding with the raw truth you had thrown at him.

“This job…” he started, but his voice faltered. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “This job demands everything. It doesn’t leave room for mistakes, for weakness.”

“And you think this is weakness?” you asked, your voice trembling now, the anger giving way to something quieter but no less intense. “Do you really think what we feel—what we’ve built—is a liability?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words pressed down on him. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to do this, how to balance it. I don’t know how to protect you and still let myself have you.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“You can’t have it both ways, Aaron,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep me close enough to feel everything and then pretend it doesn’t exist when it gets too hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his admission. “I know I can’t. But I don’t know how to do this without risking everything.”

“Neither do I,” you said, taking a step closer, your voice trembling. “But the risk of losing this, of losing us—aren’t we worth figuring it out?”

Hotch closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking as your words sank in. He couldn’t argue with you, not when everything you said mirrored the storm that had been raging inside him for years. He opened his eyes and looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he let himself feel the full weight of what you meant to him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and electric, the air in the room thick with everything you’d both left unsaid for far too long. Hotch’s gaze flickered to yours, searching for something he couldn’t name but desperately needed. His own words had fallen short, his admission incomplete, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

But then you spoke, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

“I can’t keep doing this, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling but strong, each word deliberate and cutting through the fog of tension. “I can’t keep being someone you make love to, someone you fuck when it gets to be too much. Someone you play house with when we’re with Jack. You can’t look me in the eyes and expect me to pretend I’m not already part of your family.”

He flinched, the raw honesty in your voice slicing through the walls he’d spent years building. “You are part of my family,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“Then why do we keep acting like I’m not?” you fired back, your tone sharper now, anger laced with pain. “Why do you let me stay, let me take care of Jack, let me sleep in your bed—let me love you—but we act like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his chest tightening as your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done.

“You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Aaron,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “And you expect me to believe you’d do that for anyone else? That I’m just another member of the team? I’m not stupid. I know what this is—what we are. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side, but he didn’t reach for you. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you, every time I hear Jack ask about you when you’re not there? You think I don’t know how much it means to me that you’re part of my life?”

“Then we have to stop running from it!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as your arms fell to your sides. “Stop pretending it’s safer to ignore it, because it’s not. It’s killing me, Aaron. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. And it’s killing me to keep living like this, to keep pretending we don’t already know the truth.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, leaving him breathless. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the armor he’d spent years perfecting had finally crumbled to dust. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the storm inside him.

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, though your eyes never left his. “I need you to decide,” you said softly, but the steel in your voice was unmistakable. “Because I can’t keep doing this—loving you like this—if you’re not willing to let yourself love me back.”

Hotch’s throat felt tight, the weight of your ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical force. But as he looked at you, at the pain and determination in your eyes, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I’ve been running. I’ve been terrified. But I can’t lose you—not like this. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you finally giving way to something else. Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and unpolished, but no less true. “I don’t know how to do this, but I want to try. With you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. “Then stop pretending I’m anything less than yours.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady now. “Not anymore.”

The air between you shifted, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting as you stepped into him, your arms wrapping around him as his enveloped you. It wasn’t a resolution, not entirely, but it was a beginning. A chance to stop running, to stop pretending, and to finally face the truth you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

The embrace lingered, grounding them both in a moment of quiet resolution. Hotch could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away as his arms tightened around you. For once, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid words or guarded emotions. It was calm. Real.

But the calm couldn’t last forever.

As you stepped back slightly, your hands still resting on his chest, Hotch caught the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. It was subtle, but he recognized it immediately—the way your mouth twitched just before you said something that would almost certainly drive him up a wall.

“You know we just gave the entire team front-row seats to our meltdown, right?” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “They’re probably out there placing bets on how long it’ll take us to come out of this office.”

Hotch sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I’d imagine Rossi’s leading the pool.”

“Of course he is,” you replied, stepping back fully now, though the warmth in your voice remained. “He’s been waiting for this for years. Probably thinks he’s some kind of love oracle.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll have to face them eventually,” he admitted, his tone resigned but not without a trace of humor. “It’s not like they’ll forget about it by morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. “Oh, they won’t. They’ve been watching us like hawks for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan starts calling us ‘Mom and Dad’ the second we walk out of here.”

Hotch froze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘Mom and Dad’?”

Your grin widened, and you shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t know? The team’s been referring to us as Mom and Dad behind our backs for ages.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly as he tried to process your words. “They… what?”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said, your tone teasing now. “You’ve seen how they act around us. Morgan and Reid bicker like siblings, and JJ’s always trying to keep the peace. They’ve practically assigned us roles in their little BAU family.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement. “Because it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, you are kind of a dad to everyone, and I—” You stopped abruptly, the teasing edge in your voice faltering for just a moment before you continued. “Well, I guess I’m just always around.”

Hotch looked at you then, his gaze softening. “You’re not just always around,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team. You’re part of my life. And, apparently, the team’s ‘mom,’ whether we like it or not.”

The warmth in his voice made you smile, and for a moment, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. “Well,” you said, pushing off the desk and straightening your posture, “if we’re going to face them, we might as well lean into it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it?”

“Sure,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Let them think they’ve been right all along. It’ll make their day.”

He sighed again, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, moving toward the door. “But it’s not every day we give them this much to gossip about. Might as well embrace it.”

As you reached for the door handle, you turned back to him, your expression softening slightly. “You ready?”

Hotch straightened, his shoulders squaring as he stepped forward. “Not even a little.”

Your laugh was soft but genuine, and as you opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Whatever was waiting for the two of you on the other side, you’d face it together. And that, at least, was something he could hold onto.

The weeks that followed were, on the surface, remarkably unchanged. You and Hotch still worked side by side at the BAU, the same unspoken rhythm of partnership guiding your every move. Your routines remained intact—late nights at his apartment, dinners with Jack, quiet moments stolen away from the chaos of your jobs. But now, there was something new woven into the fabric of it all. Something quiet and steady: the acknowledgement of what you were to each other.

It started small. He would brush his fingers against yours when no one was looking, or you’d linger in his office just a little longer than necessary, your smiles softer, your words laced with warmth. And the words “I love you” slipped into your conversations as naturally as if they���d always been there.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both returned to his apartment, the comforting routine of shedding your workday as familiar as ever. Jack was already in bed, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light as you both settled in.

Hotch disappeared into his home office for a moment, returning with a folder in his hand. He handed it to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, raising an eyebrow as you opened it. “What’s this?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“Employee relationship disclosure paperwork,” he said simply, his tone neutral but his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as a slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Employee relationship paperwork?” you echoed, setting the folder on the coffee table. “What exactly are we calling this, Aaron?”

Hotch paused, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you looked at him with mock seriousness. “I mean, if we’re filling out forms, that means we’re officially labeling this, right? So, what are we? Is this… a relationship?”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though the question confused him. “Of course it’s a relationship,” he said, his voice steady. “It has been for a long time.”

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, we’ve been playing house without acknowledging anything for years. So what’s the label, Hotchner? Are we ‘dating’? Am I your ‘girlfriend’?” You said the words with a playful lilt, but there was a genuine curiosity beneath your teasing tone.

Hotch hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered your question. “I don’t think ‘girlfriend’ really fits,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “It feels… juvenile.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Juvenile? Aaron, you sound like you’re 100 years old. What would you prefer? ‘Lady friend’? ‘Companion’?”

He shot you a pointed look, though the warmth in his eyes undercut his irritation. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, still smiling. “If ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t fit, what does? You could’ve at least asked me to go steady or something.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, and Hotch shook his head as he sat beside you on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re old-fashioned,” you shot back, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But seriously, what is this? What are we calling it?”

Hotch turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “We don’t need a label,” he said after a moment. “But if you want one… yes, you’re my girlfriend. My partner. Whatever word you want to use.”

Your smile widened, your teasing demeanor giving way to something warmer. “Your girlfriend, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You make me say a lot of things I never thought I’d say.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I like the sound of it,” you said softly. “But you know, if this is going to be official, you’re going to have to deal with the team making fun of us.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

Hotch felt the faintest tug of a smile on his lips as your fingers threaded through his. The warmth of your touch steadied him in a way few things ever could. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with that quiet intensity he so often wore, but this time there was a softness beneath it.

“You’re going to have to deal with it too,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “You think Morgan’s not going to have a field day the second he hears about this?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch and letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Morgan’s going to call me ‘Mom’ for the rest of my career,” you said with a grin. “And don’t even get me started on Rossi. He’s probably already planning the toast for our wedding.”

Hotch groaned softly, though there was no real frustration in the sound. “Rossi thinks he knows everything,” he muttered.

“Well,” you teased, “he was right about this.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting down to your intertwined hands. He knew the rest of the team would have plenty to say, but for once, he didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied such thoughts. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, a sense of inevitability that, despite his usual resistance to change, felt strangely comforting.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud.”

“Said what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” you said, the word tumbling out casually, but the way your lips curled into a playful smile told him you were testing it, savoring the way it sounded.

Hotch blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Your boyfriend,” he repeated, the word feeling foreign but oddly fitting on his tongue.

“Yes,” you said, your tone mockingly serious now. “You know, boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Lover—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, though the faintest hint of color crept into his cheeks as he shook his head. “I get it.”

You grinned up at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. “I think it suits you.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, though there was no heat in his words.

“Ridiculously lucky,” you corrected with a smirk.

Hotch sighed, though his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something unspoken that now didn’t need to be.

He leaned back against the couch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Maybe I do.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of this already, boyfriend,” you said, your grin widening.

He shook his head, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you replied, settling into his side. “That’s half the fun.”

Hotch’s lips twitched as he let your words settle, your playful tone doing little to mask the deeper warmth behind them. He tilted his head, watching the way you fit so effortlessly into his side, your teasing smile lighting up a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

“‘Boyfriend,’” he repeated softly, tasting the word again like it was foreign but not unwelcome. “I think I still prefer something more… permanent.”

You lifted your head slightly, your brow arching in curiosity. “Oh?” you asked, your tone laced with amusement. “What would that be? Partner? Spouse? Or—” You grinned, the mischief returning to your expression. “Are you saying you’re more interested in ‘husband’?”

Hotch didn’t flinch, though the faintest flicker of color touched his cheeks. He met your gaze, his expression steady, though his lips quirked in a faint smirk. “If we’re being honest,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, “that does sound like it fits better.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, your mock surprise more playful than genuine. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just casually suggest skipping the whole dating phase and jumping right into wedded bliss?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch with an air of calm that was entirely deliberate. “Considering we’ve been acting like we’re married for years already, it doesn’t seem like that big of a leap.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine as you swatted his chest lightly. “You are ridiculous. You’re not even my fiancé, and you’re already talking about being my husband.”

“Like I said,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, “I prefer more permanent labels.”

Your grin softened, your eyes searching his as the teasing edge in your tone gave way to something quieter, more reflective. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, the question almost tentative.

Hotch nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t take things lightly,” he said simply. “Not with you. I never have.”

For a moment, the air between you was heavy again, but not with tension. It was filled with the weight of everything you’d both been building for years, every unspoken truth and every quiet moment of connection that had brought you here.

You smiled, leaning into him again, your voice soft but teasing as you murmured, “Well, if that’s the case, boyfriend, you’re going to have to start calling me ‘your wife’ in front of the team.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “One step at a time,” he said, though the warmth in his tone left little doubt about where his mind had already wandered.

Life fell back into its natural rhythm after you and Hotch filed the paperwork. The team made their comments, as expected—Morgan’s teasing was relentless, and Rossi’s smug satisfaction was borderline insufferable. But beyond the ribbing, nothing really changed in the day-to-day. You and Hotch continued your routines, slipping seamlessly between work and home as if the acknowledgment of your relationship had always been there.

Except now, there was an ease to it. A clarity.

The shift became apparent not in how you treated each other, but in how the rest of the world seemed to see you. It started small—another parent at Jack’s school, someone Hotch didn’t recognize but who greeted you both warmly at pickup one afternoon.

“Oh, you must be Jack’s mom,” she said, smiling at you before turning to Hotch. “He’s such a sweet boy. It’s clear he gets it from you two.”

You both had opened his mouth to correct her out of habit, but then he stopped you. What was the point? It felt right. Natural. So he’d smiled politely and said, “Thank you.”

Later, as you walked back to the car with Jack skipping ahead, you nudged him lightly. “Jack’s mom, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t correct her either,” he countered, his lips twitching with amusement.

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Didn’t feel like I needed to.”

It was one of those rare sunny Saturday mornings when Hotch found himself not at the office but at the local community park with you and Jack. The three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm—Jack running ahead to the swings while you and Hotch strolled behind, coffee cups in hand.

As usual, you and Jack had dragged him into this outing, insisting he needed a break. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but watching Jack’s laughter echo through the park and seeing the soft smile on your face made him realize how much he needed mornings like this.

While Jack climbed the jungle gym, you leaned against the railing near the benches, brushing a stray hair from your face as the breeze picked up. Hotch stood beside you, close enough that your arm brushed his when you reached for your coffee.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Aaron Hotchner, is that you?”

Hotch turned to see a woman he vaguely recognized approaching, her face lighting up as she drew closer. It took him a moment to place her—one of Haley’s old acquaintances from a distant social circle.

“It is you,” she said warmly, stopping in front of you both. “Wow, it’s been years. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Hotch said politely, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Claire.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curiosity plain on her face. “And this must be…?”

“My wife,” Hotch said without hesitation, the words slipping out so naturally that he didn’t even think to correct himself.

You blinked, your lips twitching with amusement as you extended a hand to her. “Hi,” you said, your tone friendly but neutral. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Claire’s smile widened as she shook your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you too. And Jack! Oh, he’s grown so much,” she added, waving at him as he climbed the monkey bars.

Hotch nodded, his gaze following Jack for a moment before settling back on Claire. They exchanged a few pleasantries—updates about mutual acquaintances and polite questions about work—before she finally excused herself, leaving you and Hotch alone again.

“You told a lie,” you said after a moment, your tone casual but laced with quiet amusement.

Hotch turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “About?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a faint smirk. “About me being your wife.”

He paused, the realization settling over him, and then shrugged, his expression unbothered. “Didn’t feel like I needed to call you anything different.”

“Really?” you asked, your smile widening. “Is this what we’re calling it now?”

Hotch glanced at you, his dark eyes steady but soft. “It’s what it feels like,” he said simply. “It’s what we are.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, you said nothing, your gaze searching his. Then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I guess I should get used to it, huh?”

“You’re not opposed, are you?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee before looking up at him with a grin. “But if you keep calling me your wife in public, you’re going to have to follow through at some point.”

Hotch chuckled quietly, his lips twitching with a faint smile. “Noted.”

Jack’s shout from the swings broke the moment, and you both turned to watch him wave enthusiastically for your attention. Hotch gave a small wave back, his hand brushing against yours as he lowered it.

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the simplicity of the morning, but the weight of what had been said lingered in the air. Neither of you felt the need to correct it. After all, it was the truth—whether there was paperwork to prove it or not.

The next instance came at work, during a meeting with another department. A young agent had introduced herself and, glancing between you and Hotch, asked, “So, you and your wife—do you find it hard balancing work and home life at the BAU?”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. But he also didn’t hesitate. “It’s a challenge,” he said smoothly, his tone professional but warm. “But we make it work.”

After the meeting, you leaned against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as you smirked at him. “Wife, huh?”

“Again, would you prefer I said ‘girlfriend’?” he asked dryly, hating the juvenile label, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head thoughtfully. “But you do realize you’ve been calling me that a lot lately.”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Feels accurate.”

Your smile softened, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “Feels accurate to me too.”

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the bullpen that the team finally confronted you both. Emily leaned against Morgan’s desk, her arms crossed as she watched you and Hotch exit his office together. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you exchanged a look and parted ways—Hotch heading toward the coffee station and you to speak with JJ.

“Alright,” Emily said, her tone laced with curiosity as she approached Hotch. “Are you and Y/N married? And don’t try to brush this off—I’ve heard you call her your wife at least three times this week.”

Hotch turned, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, we’re not married,” he said, his tone even.

Emily’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Then why do you call her your wife?”

He hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Because it feels more honest than calling her my girlfriend. That doesn’t seem to cover what we are.”

Emily blinked, clearly taken aback by the straightforwardness of his response. “Okay, fair point,” she said slowly. “But what’s stopping you from actually getting married?”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. What was stopping them? He knew it wasn’t fear or hesitation—it hadn’t been for a long time. And the thought of marrying you didn’t fill him with apprehension; it filled him with the same sense of certainty he felt when he called you his wife without a second thought.

“I—” he started, but before he could finish, you appeared at his side, holding a file.

“What’s this about?” you asked, glancing between them.

Emily grinned, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Just asking your husband here why you two aren’t actually married yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before turning to Hotch. “Well?” you asked, your voice teasing but your expression curious.

Hotch met your gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around him. “That’s a good question,” he said, his voice steady. “What do you think?”

Your smile widened, your eyes softening as you leaned just slightly closer. “I don’t think either of us have a good reason not to,” you said, your tone light but meaningful.

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Well, when it happens, let us know. Rossi’s already planning your wedding toast.”

As Emily walked away, you and Hotch exchanged a glance, your smiles matching. And for the first time, the idea of making it official didn’t feel like a question of if, but when.

The idea had been with him for weeks, lingering in the back of his mind as he watched you move through your life together. It wasn’t a sudden realization or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet, steady, and inevitable, much like the way you’d become the most important person in his life. He didn’t need to overthink it because he already knew the answer. You were his partner in every way that mattered, and it was time to make that official.

But Hotch being Hotch, he planned every detail. Not something grand or ostentatious—that wasn’t either of you. Instead, he wanted it to be personal, grounded in the quiet, meaningful moments that had always defined your relationship.

It was a Friday evening, the end of a particularly grueling week at the BAU. You and Hotch had fallen into your routine, picking up Jack from soccer practice and grabbing takeout on the way home. The three of you sat around the dining table, laughing as Jack recounted a story about his coach’s dramatic attempt to demonstrate a bicycle kick. Hotch caught your eye during the meal, the warmth in your gaze settling something deep within him.

After Jack went to bed, you lingered in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Hotch joined you, sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“You look tired,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

He smiled faintly, his hand covering yours. “Long week.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” you replied, your lips curving into a small grin. “But at least we survived it.”

“We always do,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a weight to his words that caught your attention.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind, Aaron?”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing on him. But then he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate but calm, and pulled out a small box. Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter, your hand still resting on his knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About us. About what we’ve built together. It’s not just a routine or a habit. It’s a life. And it’s a life I want to share with you—not just in words or assumptions, but in every way that matters.”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect, understated in the way he knew you’d appreciate.

“I’ve called you my wife more times than I can count,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are to me. It’s what you’ve been for a long time. And now, I want to make it real.”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aaron Hotchner let every wall fall away. “Will you marry me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was full of the gravity of the moment, the quiet weight of a decision that neither of you had to think twice about.

Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes soft as they brimmed with unshed tears. “Of course I will,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “Yes, Aaron. Yes.”

Relief and joy washed over him, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his own arms circling your waist.

It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It was simple, quiet, and utterly perfect. Just like the life you’d built together.

Aaron Hotchner had never been a man who dreamed of grand gestures. His life had taught him the value of simplicity, of finding solace in the quiet moments that others often overlooked. And as he sat with you on the couch that night, your hand resting in his, the weight of the ring now on your finger, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted. No fanfare, no spectacle—just you, him, and the life you’d built together.

The days that followed felt much the same, yet somehow entirely different. There was a new ease between you, a sense of certainty that replaced the unspoken tension that had once lingered. At work, the teasing from the team was relentless but good-natured. 

But it was at home, in the moments away from the chaos of the BAU, that the shift was most palpable. You’d catch Hotch watching you with a quiet intensity as you helped Jack with his homework or laughed over a shared joke at dinner. And when you teased him about it, his response was always the same—a faint smile and a simple, heartfelt, “I’m just happy.”

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch together, Jack asleep in his room, you glanced down at the ring on your finger and then back up at him. “So, husband,” you said, the word rolling off your tongue with a mix of playfulness and warmth, “how long do you think it’ll take before Rossi starts making bets on when the wedding will be?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “If he hasn’t already, I’d be surprised.”

You grinned, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? How all of this just… fell into place?”

He turned slightly, his arm wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It didn’t just fall into place,” he said quietly. “We built it—one step at a time. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Not even the part where the team found out and started calling us ‘Mom and Dad’?”

He smirked, his hand trailing absently along your arm. “Not even that.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet, the glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. It was a life neither of you had expected, but one you’d fought for in your own way. And as Hotch held you close, the future felt less like an unknown and more like a promise—a life you’d continue to build together, one quiet, meaningful moment at a time.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[lilacxquartz]

JJK x Reader: What they would do for your birthday

included: sukuna, uraume, kenjaku & mahito

tags/themes: drabbles, fluff, slightly suggestive, slight body horror for mahito, 500-1000 words per character

ao3 link • masterlist • mdni

a/n: levelling up this month so why not a lil drabble post 💥 i’ll write one up for the other chars next time

Sukuna

You had been officially with Sukuna for about a year now and have lived together with him for about half of that duration.

Therefore, it was only a matter of time before you ended up spending your birthday with him.

Or so you thought.

Waking up, you were surprised to find the bed completely empty and utterly devoid of his presence. Instead, Uraume stood in the doorway with a neutral look on their face, entirely unphased by you being partially undressed with the covers only concealing half of your otherwise bare body.

It took you a while to adjust to their unwavering stare before you noticed that they were holding onto something.

At first, you couldn’t help but consider the possibility that perhaps Sukuna had arranged for a gift to be dispensed at their hands rather than to deliver it himself. However, the longer you both stared each other down, the less likely that seemed to be the case.

Stepping forward, Uraume snapped open a roll of measuring tape in their hands, the object making a tight whipping sound, “Your measurements, please.”

Blinking, you tried to process their request.

“It would be wise if you could cooperate with me,” they added, piling onto your strained silence.

“Hold on a sec,” you murmured, “let me just get dressed—“

“—I really don’t mind,” they replied stiffly, “nor do I care.”

“I care, a-alright?” you partially stammered, feeling your face warm up under their eyes. Curse Sukuna for requesting that you sleep unclothed. “Just step out for a moment. …Please?”

With a weary eye roll, Uraume complied with your request.

Quickly slipping into a tank top and a pair of underwear, you awkwardly cleared your throat a couple of times to signal that you were ready.

As they walked back inside, they swiftly manoeuvred around you, looping the measuring tape around your arms and waist with calculated precision as you stood there with slowly building discomfort.

“S-so… what’s this for?” you asked.

“For lord Sukuna,” they quietly replied while taking a step back, their eyes closing for a moment as though to make a mental note, “a request of his so that I can make some… adjustments.”

You nervously laughed in response in an attempt to lighten the mood, “You make it sound so ominous.”

Uraume however did not reciprocate, leaving you alone in the bedroom where you were left to gather what remained of your throughts for a good couple of hours. In that time, you chose to take it as easy as possible in fearful anticipation for what Sukuna might have had in store for you.

When the time finally arrived for him to make his grand appearance, you were sitting in bed half awake against the headboard, sleepily browsing your phone.

Sukuna’s footsteps were methodical as he approached you, holding onto what appeared to be neatly folded fabric. His pointed fingernails lightly threaded around the cloth, seeming careful not to tear through the material.

Warily, you sat up and steeled yourself, unsure as to what to expect all the while he extended his arms, offering you what you were certain to be a gift.

Before you could say anything however, he promptly cut you off with a disapproving tone, “You will refrain from getting sentimental at my offering. I’m doing this out of pure etiquette.”

You blinked at him with a confused arched brow as your mouth slightly hung ajar. Thinking nothing of it, you carefully unfolded the cloth, unfurling the creases and gently spreading out a robe similar to the one he often wore.

Unable to resist a smile, you couldn’t help but ask in a teasing tone, “Did you just give me a matching kimono? Are we really matching? That’s so adora—“

“—cease, the rags you otherwise wear are simply… unacceptable, that’s all,” he huffed in a curt response, seeming displeased with your remark. “This is more so to please me than it is for you to enjoy.”

Your smile continued to grow as his words went right over your head. No matter how much he would continue to deny it, he got you something personal—something purposefully commissioned for you to wear that matched what he had.

Attempting to further taunt him for being soft, you opened up your mouth to tempt the idea. However he quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked it towards him as a playful threat, his voice low and full of warning, “Don’t push your luck, brat. You’ll try this on and let me see how it sits on you.”

Stifling your mockery for now, you quietly obeyed his word without further question to which he released you to do so. You punched one arm at a time through the kimono while he helped you ease into it; his eyes fixated intently on how you wore it, silently judging how you adapted to wearing the cloth.

“Perfect,” he whispered under his breath, although the annoyance he felt prior was steadily returning the longer you stared at him with that irritating smile, “again, don’t mistake this gift as an act of kindness. I’m simply ensuring that you dress the way I’d prefer.”

“Sure,” you replied with a sarcastic undertone.

You couldn’t lie though, the material was perfectly soft against your skin. It felt like wearing weightless silk that both cooled yet somehow warmed your body.

And despite the coldness that he continued to deliver you with his pointed stare, there was a flicker of something else in the depth of his eyes. Perhaps it was care, no matter how much he denied being unable to feel such an emotion.

Or perhaps it was longing… or a subtler form of affection that you didn’t quite understand.

Whatever it was, the gift was a token of his claim towards you—for you to wear something he did too, to present to the world that you were in fact truly his.

Which in his eyes was the most meaningful gift that he could ever give.

Uraume

Your interactions with Uraume were always a hit or a miss, at least initially. Slowly, you grew to appreciate their company over the last couple of years and during more recent times, the pair of you had blossomed into a relationship.

Taking such a big step forward was a challenge for you both, but you did come to value the way they showed affection—no matter how subtle it always was.

Together, you lived on a property not too far from Sukuna’s residence. They were always available at a moment’s notice for his every whim and need, so often times you were left to spend the evenings alone and when your birthday finally rolled around, you didn’t expect anything less.

However, much to your surprise, Uraume seemingly got off much earlier than you had anticipated, arriving home just before it was too dark. Just before you were too tired to stay up for their company.

“You’re home early,” you said, greeting them with an acknowledging nod as they lingered in the doorway—both hands clasped onto a box that they held onto for dear life.

As they nodded back, you became curious about the contents and gently placed your phone onto the sofa to inspect what they were carrying. Carefully, you trailed off to where they stood, looking down ever so slightly while they figured out how to address you.

“…Today is a significant day for you,” they spoke up at last, their hands slowly extending as they attempted to part with the box.

You grabbed onto it, securing it at parallel ends.

“Correct,” you slowly nodded.

A moment of silence had passed before Uraume continued on with what they wanted to say, “As such, I have brought you something as a gift. Please open it carefully.”

Nodding once more, you heeded their request and placed the box onto the breakfast table, sitting on a chair and began to open up the box. Slowly, you unloaded a fine china tea set with a delicate touch.

“Is it acceptable?” Uraume asked.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you whispered, carefully inspecting each and every single fine detail, seemingly hand painted onto the dishes.

“I used to have a similar set, way back then,” they added, “although I couldn’t find the exact original.”

“You have incredible taste either way,” you complimented.

Uraume’s lips curled slightly, looking away for a second as you praised them,

“Is it… acceptable?” they asked you again, wondering if it was a gesture that you enjoyed or not. Uraume didn’t like it when things were sugarcoated, preferring a blunt or clear response instead.

“Yes,” you replied, “I love it.”

For Uraume to not only consider your interest but to also add a personal flair and also locate something potentially rare and nostalgic to them was an incredible gesture to you.

Seeming pleased, Uraume continued, “I could prepare you some tea then, if you’d like. You should be sleeping soon, so a cup might be nice.”

“I’d love that,” you replied.

“Then please sit tight,” they smiled, “allow me to treat you as you deserve.”

Kenjaku

Going to sleep at Kenjaku’s side and waking up alive the next day was a miraculous accomplishment each and every single time. It was such a relieving feeling, that you almost found yourself feeling thankful that on your birthday, you woke up feeling perfectly fine without a hint of unwelcome surprise.

No suspicious incisions, no missing organs—you were fine, all fine. Just fine…!

Yet as you left the bed and saw a note sitting at the doorstep to the entrance of the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

You warily picked it up, scanning over the surface of the paper:

‘Happy birthday. Your gift awaits.’

As you then unfolded the note completely, you found that there was more written on the inside; an unnamed address without any context.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for whatever it was. You didn’t want to go anywhere unnecessary today, yet here he was, directing you somewhere potentially strange.

Chucking on your usual outfit—something lazy for running errands, you inputted the address into your GPS app and began to march towards the mysterious direction.

You supposed that you were lucky to be dating this man during the modern times, where you at least had modern technology to accurately guide you to wherever it was he directed you. Had this been just decades earlier with a paper map, you might have genuinely lost the single shred of sanity that you had left.

And upon reaching the address in question, you stepped inside what appeared to be an old antique shop. Inside stood an old man who trembled as he asked for your name, seeming equal parts nervous and relieved as he handed you a note with a key folded inside.

Sighing, you thanked the man and parted the key from the paper, reading more of his forsaken words:

‘Unlock compartment #51 and retrieve the contents.’

Doing just that, you asked the man if he knew what the note was talking about and with a strained nod, he led you to a small room filled to the brim with small drawers dotted with little key slots. You supposed that this antique shop somehow doubled as an old post office perhaps, given the worn state of the lockers.

You braced yourself for whatever you were about to find in the allocated compartment, frowning as you retrieved a small box wrapped in paper. Inside, was an even smaller box, although completely metal with a cap on it and to your lacking surprise, another note.

“Oh for the love of—“ you muttered as your eyes focused on the new piece of paper:

‘Return home and loudly close the door. Break the seal of the case and place it onto the counter.’

With an almost exasperated groan, you stormed back to your shared home and did exactly as he instructed—feeling genuinely unsure as to why you were torturing yourself on what appeared to be a scavenger hunt for what gave him the audacity to do such a thing.

You stared at the activated case with a narrowed gaze, half expecting the damned thing to blow up. It was surely not too promising as smoke seeped through the narrow ventilation slots and as a loud beeping noise played, but then you smelled something pleasant.

Kenjaku then materialised seemingly out of nowhere, jolting you with unanticipated surprise as he swooped in to disassemble the case, unveiling a small cake of some kind that he then took a bite out of, without offering you a single crumb.

“…Excuse me?” you asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I haven’t had one of these for centuries,” he replied, his mouth slightly muffled as he chewed.

You continued to stare at him, “And why did you make me go through all of that?”

Initially he curiously hummed but then smiled upon finishing up the confection, “So that I could give you a gift that you wouldn’t forget. A pleasant memory.”

“I didn’t find it very pleasant…” you sulked.

Kenjaku simply continued to smile as he patted your head, messing up your hair in the process, “But it was definitely unforgettable, right?”

“I… I guess so?” you reluctantly supposed.

“Then, consider that to be my gift to you,” he replied, “a day of intrigue, but also enrichment.”

“T-thank you?” you replied in a state of quickly growing confusion; completely unsure of what was even happening.

Seeming satisfied, Kenjaku retreated from you as he slinked back into what was his study, “You’re welcome,” he sang before disappearing into the room.

All the while you could do nothing but simply stand there, confused yet also… somehow fulfilled?

Mahito

You weren’t sure how, but you managed to find yourself entangled in Mahito’s personal web. You weren’t sure as to why this strange cursed spirit seemed to spare you, but you were starting to wish that he hadn’t, given how often he popped into your own home.

You tried just about everything to keep him out, but he was just too damn determined. It was on a nightly basis that he made it into a routine; somehow breaching your barricaded doors and boarded up windows to routinely appear in your bedroom.

You could always tell when he was there, too.

Initially he gave you the creeps as he lingered in the shadows of your dark bedroom, but slowly he became something to simply just expect.

And with the all too familiar tapping of his knuckles against the wall, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed as he paid you yet another visit against your will.

Flashing on the lights, you bathed the once dark room in a blinding glow and there he was; stood idly up against your wall, waiting for you to notice him.

“Miss me?” he asked, leaning ever so slightly forward which caused his silver locks to sway.

You groaned into your pillow, turning away from him, mumbling something just coherent enough for him to parse, “I’m about to go to sleep. Go away.”

“Sleep? How boring~” he mocked in a jovial tone. “Especially on such a special day.”

You reluctantly acknowledged that it was indeed your birthday, choosing to push down the curiosity you had in mind with how on earth he managed to obtain such knowledge to begin with.

“Correct,” you begrudgingly replied, “so can my present be for you to leave me alone?”

Mahito simply laughed in response, a shrill and mocking sound escaping his lips. It always bothered you how expressive his features were yet how vacant his eyes seemed to be.

“Silly!” he exclaimed. “That would be rude of me, now wouldn’t it?”

“…The opposite, actually,” you mumbled.

Mahito pushed himself off of the wall and made his way to sit by your side while you were still in bed. He made a point of pulling off your blanket away from you and throwing the pillows off to the side—forcing you to whether you wanted to or not, to acknowledge his existence.

However, before you could react any further, his bare fingers brushed against your forehead with a strange, almost alien sensation that followed.

It felt like a headache of some sort but you couldn’t quite figure it out just yet.

Something was simply just… off.

Warily, both of your hands felt around your scalp, feeling something pointed and sharp spearing out of your head. In an attempt to get it off of you, you seemed to make the pain worse.

Such a realisation that he might have altered your body filled you with a deep sense of dread and that wasn’t a feeling you were particularly ready to accept.

“W-what did you just do…?” you asked with a trembling voice.

Mahito clapped his hands together in delight, seeming thoroughly amused at the sight before him. His eyes gleamed with pure excitement as he traced the air with a pointed finger, drawing an outline of your figure.

“Just a little something to get you into the party spirit,” he hinted with a sense of excitement that was just barely contained, “why not look into the mirror and see for yourself?”

Albeit reluctantly, you got out of bed and padded your way to the standing floor mirror that you had in the corner of your room. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but upon seeing a literal organic mass spearing from the top of your head, it certainly wasn’t that.

The longer you stared at it, the more uneasy you felt.

The very sight of it alone made you feel nauseated.

“G-get it o-off…!” you barely choked out, the volume of your voice croaking out as nothing more than a whisper.

Mahito’s grin then grew wider, “Not yet, birthday girl. How about some gratitude for your very own built in party hat?”

Surrendering to his terms under the implication that he would undo such a ridiculous alteration to your body, you managed to sputter out that could have resembled coherent words.

“Th-tha-thank y-you, Ma-mahito.”

Yet, the patch faced spirit didn’t seem satisfied with your attempt at all, tilting his head off to the side as though to indicate disappointment.

“Let’s try again,” he requested with a feigned sulk, “with a little bit more enthusiasm, perhaps?”

“Th-thank you!” you blurted out, although still sounding more horrified than grateful.

“That’s better,” Mahito cheered on, his personality rebounding in a split second, “but still not quite good enough,” he added on, “one last time with the right amount of passion? Unless you’d rather I keep it permanently like that?”

“Thank you for this incredible gift, Mahito!” you exclaimed, practically shouting as your both your voice as well as your dignity left your body.

Seeming genuinely pleased, Mahito ran his fingers by your head once again before returning you back to your original form. Not only were you right as rain, but he also gave you a good minute to compose yourself, waiting for you to scold him.

“What was that…?” you huffed.

“A magic trick for your birthday party,” he beamed, charading the flick of a wand, “a gift to get you into the birthday mood!”

“Oh, I’m in a mood alright,” you sighed.

“Not to worry,” he announced after yet another moment of painful silence, his sudden movement jolting you, “I’m going to leave you alone for now. So goodnight, better be thankful or else I’ll bite tonight~!”

Your eye twitched as he continued to taunt you with the almost burdening reminder that regardless of his promised absence, that he would come crawling back into your life the very next day.

Perhaps however, you should be thankful that he only seemed to want to rile you up rather than to torture you.

So maybe that much was a gift in itself than anything else.

>>> more birthday jjk drabbles

[aventurineswife]

hi hi!! can i request hsr men (aventurine, dr ratio, and any of ur choice <3) with a s/o who is an over-apologizer? no need if u dont feel comfortable just in case but thank u in advance 💙

I'm so sorry!!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Over-Apologizing!Reader, Gentle Reassurance, Soft Moments, Emotional Support, Romantic Undertones.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin dancing on his lips as he watched you flounder before him, your hands wringing in an anxious motion. He couldn’t help but find your constant apologies both endearing and, at times, amusing.

"Are you... apologizing again?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with a playful smile. You, blushing, nodded repeatedly, as though your incessant apologies would somehow make up for the minor mishap you'd caused.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you late. I’m so sorry I knocked over the coffee earlier—again. I can’t believe I did that. I promise, I’ll be more careful next time," you rambled, looking anywhere but directly at Aventurine, who was still smirking, seemingly entertained by your flustered state.

Aventurine leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. "My dear, you do realize I don’t mind a bit of chaos, especially when it’s you causing it. You’re an over-apologizer, yes, but that’s part of what makes you... you. And I must admit, I enjoy seeing this side of you. It’s rather charming."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. You’d expected a scolding, not praise. Aventurine continued, his tone softening, though the smile never left his face.

"You don’t have to apologize for every little thing. I’m not the kind to hold grudges. If anything, you should only apologize when you truly mean it. Until then, just be yourself. I’ve already invested too much in you to let something like a spilled cup of coffee bother me."

You blushed at his reassurance, the knot in your stomach loosening. Aventurine’s words were always laced with layers of truth and care, though veiled in his typical flair. Still, you appreciated it deeply.

"Thank you..." you muttered shyly.

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "No need to thank me. But you might want to apologize... just once more. For making me wait so long." He winked teasingly, and your heart fluttered as you hurried to sit beside him.

Ratio had never been the most patient person. His brilliance was often paired with a sharp tongue, and he had little tolerance for those who didn’t meet his intellectual standards. But when it came to you, something about you made him pause and reconsider his usual cold demeanor.

You had once again apologized for something trivial—this time for knocking over a stack of books on his desk.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I’ll clean it up right away, I promise!" you said, frantically picking up the fallen books with an anxious look in your eyes.

Ratio watched you in silence, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of his desk. His eyes softened slightly as he took in your flustered state. You were always so quick to apologize, to the point where it almost seemed like you didn’t believe he would forgive you for anything.

"Enough," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "There’s no need for this incessant apologizing. It’s a simple mistake, nothing that requires endless regret. You can’t control every little detail, after all. The world is full of chaos, and you can’t simply apologize for every piece of it."

He walked toward you, his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t angry—he never was, not with you. But your over-apologizing did frustrate him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

He tilted your chin up gently with his finger, a gesture that was both comforting and commanding. "I care for you," he said, his tone softer than before. "I’ve seen you apologize for things you don’t need to. When you truly make a mistake, you’ll know it. And when that happens, we’ll deal with it. But for now, stop apologizing for things that aren’t worth it. It’s exhausting, and frankly, it doesn’t suit you."

You nodded, your eyes searching his face for any sign of mockery, but finding none. He was serious, and somehow, it made you feel better.

"Thank you." you murmured.

Ratio gave you a small smile, a rare sight for him. "You’re welcome. Now, let’s get back to those books. I have a new theory to test, and I need your help."

You smiled back, finally feeling like you had permission to just exist without constantly worrying about your mistakes.

Dan Heng's eyes narrowed slightly as he felt you accidentally step onto his tail. He stilled for a moment, trying to suppress his reflex to flinch, and before he could even process the situation, you were already profusely apologizing.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to step on your tail! Are you okay? Please don’t be mad, I—" you babbled, your face flushed with embarrassment as you fretted over the minor accident.

Dan Heng blinked, his tail twitching as he quickly recovered from the initial shock. His expression remained calm, but there was a faint furrow in his brow, and he could see the distress in your eyes. He wasn't the type to get upset over small things, but the way you were carrying on made him feel an odd mix of sympathy and a desire to reassure you.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said softly, his voice steady, but there was a hint of warmth in it that only you seemed to notice. "It was an accident. My tail’s fine."

Your eyes widened as you processed his words, still unsure whether to be more apologetic or relieved. But Dan Heng’s calmness eased the tension in the room, and you realized he wasn’t angry.

"It’s okay," he added, his tone a little softer. "You didn’t mean to, and it doesn’t hurt. Just... be careful next time." He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that made his usual stoic demeanor seem a little less distant.

You, still embarrassed, nodded slowly, the knot in your stomach loosening just a little. "Thank you, Dan Heng. I’ll be more careful."

Dan Heng placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his touch reassuring yet firm. "You don’t need to apologize for every little thing. Life’s full of accidents. Just... don’t overthink it."

For once, you could finally relax, knowing that with Dan Heng, you didn’t have to worry about constantly apologizing for things that weren’t even your fault.

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (04)

Well, damn, it’s been a while. Uni is kicking my ass, but I’ll try to do at least one update every week (the goal is one during the week and one on the weekend). Anyway, I hope you like this chapter too! Thank you all for your support; I really appreciate all the likes and comments. It’s my first fic, so seeing people enjoy it is so validating and motivates me to keep writing.

I will try to post another chapter this weekend though.

Warning: cursing, blood

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

03 <- 04 -> 05

Masterlist

Taglist

You had never gotten home so fast in your life. The entire drive was a blur—nothing but flashing lights, familiar roads, and the sound of your own pounding heart. It was a miracle you didn’t slam headfirst into someone else’s car or lose control of the wheel. The last, dying surge of adrenaline got you through a sloppy parking job, followed by a sprint into your apartment complex, straight to your apartment’s door. The moment it slammed shut behind you, you quickly locked the door. A distant voice in the back of your mind wondered if your neighbor would leave yet another passive-aggressive note about the noise, but you couldn’t care less right now, but you couldn’t care less now. For the first time in what felt like hours, you sucked in a shaky breath, leaning against the door as you slid down. Your back scraped painfully against the wood, but you didn’t care about that either. When your ass finally hit the floor, the whole nightmare came crashing down on you. The fear, the panic, the pain—it all hit you at once, in a suffocating wave that made your chest tighten.

Your nose had stopped bleeding during that hellish drive, but the damage was done and blood was everywhere, splattered all over your shirt, caked, crusted and dried. And then there was the sweat dripping down your body, making your skin sticky and gross. You smelled like rusty iron and sweat, a disgusting mix that made you want to puke, while the still sharp and throbbing ache in your nose acted as a constant reminder of how fucked up this day had been.

You sat there in silence. The tears long gone, dried somewhere between the drive and the door slamming shut behind you, but the exhaustion was still there. Everything hurt: Your head from being smashed into the wall, your face from Red Riot’s fists, your legs from sprinting like your life depended on it. And it might as well have been the case.

Minutes passed in agonizing stillness before you felt something besides pain and exhaustion. A vicious spike of anger shot through you. White-hot, boiling rage surged through your veins. It crashed into you with full force, tearing through the numbness. You had been terrified, yes—petrified, running for your life—but now? The fear had settled, buzzed out of your system, and only left rage in its wake. Staggering to your feet, you felt the room sway around you as you stumbled to the bathroom. Once you met your own eyes in the bathroom’s mirror, you couldn’t stand the sight of yourself—sweaty, bloody, pathetic and wrecked. It made your stomach churn. You looked like shit, arguably worse than shit. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face swollen, your lips busted wide open. And your nose—twisted in a way that made you wince just looking at it.

All of this for what ? Nothing.

That piece of shit Red Riot, did that to you. He came barging through the door like a red storm, no explanation needed before breaking your nose. You hadn’t even done anything wrong. Not a goddamn thing. But no Red Rio- Kirishima Eijiro, the known friendly hero, had acted like a rabid dog and torn into you without a second thought.

Fuck him. Matter of fact, fuck Todoroki too. Fuck those two.

He beat you into the ground, and you did nothing. You couldn’t do anything. Rage boiled in your chest as you yanked your clothes off and threw the bloodied, reeking fabric to the floor. Your hands reached for your face, intending to heal your injuries with your quirk but as your fingers brushed over the dried blood and bruises, you caught the faint scent of berries and honey beneath the sweat and rusty iron. Your stomach twisted as the memory of Todoroki’s desperate wet kisses on your hands flashed through your mind. The anger surged again, burning hotter as you quickly washed away his scent on you in the sink before healing yourself.

A soft yellow glow filled the room as your quirk worked to repair the worst of the damage—your split lips, your broken nose. A tingling sensation crept over your body, uncomfortable, but familiar and you frowned, concentrating on pushing through the discomfort as your quirk did its work. It wasn’t a “miracle-doing” type of quirk though, your nose straightened, your lips sort of healed—but the pain lingered, lurking beneath the surface. You’d only kick-started the healing process. It would take time for the swelling to go down, for the bruises to fade, for the pain to finally subside.

You hit the shower, cold water cascading over you, washing away the dried blood as you scrubbed your skin roughly with your loofah. You stayed under the chilling stream, hoping it would wash away the weight of this terrible day, letting it all drain down the sewer. It was only when you began to feel raw and too cold that you jumped out of the shower, dried yourself with your towel, and put on the first non-bloodied shirt you found on your way out of the bathroom.

Once you opened your bedroom door, you didn’t bother to turn on the light; the darkness felt comforting, and you welcomed it with open arms. You crawled under the sheets, burying yourself in the heavy comforter, yearning for the warmth it promised to bring. The weight of the blanket pressed down on you, grounding you in a way you needed after this atrocious day. You longed for it to smother the lingering anger and exhaustion, but you couldn’t shake the thoughts running rampant in your head. How long before Red Riot reported you to the police? How long until the hospital fired you and your medical license was revoked? It would be your word against his in front of a judge. “Beloved hero Red Riot catches a doctor taking advantage of his mate, other beloved hero, Shoto Todoroki,” you could already imagine the headlines. The public, police and judges would eat it up, siding with the hero without question.

After a day filled with chaos and pain, your mind was now horrifyingly clear. You knew it—there was no escaping this. You were done for.

Ironically, the only person who might have been as furious as you today was Kirishima. He was livid—at you for taking advantage of Shoto, at the villain he had to apprehend before rushing to the hospital, and at himself for arriving so late.

He barely noticed when you fled the room, his focus entirely on Shoto. He realized how awful of a partner he’d been, letting his anger consume him. He knew how overwhelming his scent got when that happened, and how sensitive omegas were to scents during their heat. Shoto’s heat wasn’t even due for another three weeks normally, his mate was always so punctual when it comes to thing like this, so to smell his familiar scent of berries and honey, so rich and intense from behind the door, surprised him when he first arrived at his mate’s hospital room earlier. But what really made him stop was the new, unfamiliar scent coming from the room

The two scents mingled, forming a mouthwatering fragrance of sweet, thick and ripe—berries, peach, and maybe apricot under a drizzle of hot honey. The combination was intoxicating, like stepping into an orchard at the height of summer, where each layer of sweetness blended perfectly with the next. The richness and depth of it were almost overwhelming, a scent so inviting and luscious it felt as though you could taste it, lingering and saturating the space around it. It was so enticing but equally odd, a foreign scent mixed with Shoto’s. The warmth and intensity of his mate’s scent coming through the door was a confirmation that he was already in heat and the thought of Shoto in such a vulnerable state with a stranger fueled Kirishima’s panic. Worried, he had bursted through the door to find you, a doctor, with your hands all over Shoto in a way that looked anything but professional, a red haze of fury had fully consumed him.

But now ? Now, he had to be there for Shoto. He had already wasted too much time dealing with you, and the pain in Shoto’s eyes confirmed he had already failed as a partner today.

“Shoto, are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t come—" His voice was thick with worry and panic, but Todoroki cut him off.

“Eijirou, home, now….just take me home."

“Of course. Let’s get you out of here.” Kirishima nodded instantly, his heart pounding as he held out his hand, ready to steady Shoto with it. Shoto was his priority now, and he couldn’t risk another creepy doctor coming in.

He took him by the arm and supported him as they both walked toward the exit. Pro heroes had their own separate exit in their hospital wing as a safety measure, preventing journalists from harassing them the moment they stepped outside. When they reached the hospital’s second front desk, the man working there gave them a confused look, as patients couldn’t be discharged without their doctor’s approval. However, one look from Kirishima discouraged him from asking any questions.

Once they left the building, Kirishima noticed Todoroki’s condition worsening. If his usual quiet demeanor was comforting and endearing, the silence now filled Kirishima with dread. He focused on getting Shoto home, guiding him to his car and helping him into the back seat. The heterochromatic boy appeared uncomfortable lying on the too-small back seat, and all Kirishima could do was hold his hands, and softly promises they’d be home soon.

The drive home was the most careful yet fastest he had ever experienced, but still one of the worst. He hated hearing Shoto's pained moans every time he accelerated too quickly or hit a bump too harshly.

Did I mention that chapter 3 was the end of the prologue? Well, I lied! I had planned an interesting scene between Kirishima and Todoroki, but this chapter ended up being so long. I think I'll save it for next time. Plus, I wrapped up the last two chapters similarly, with a character leaving the hospital in their car, so that counts for something. At the very least, it’s a mini cliffhanger: “Oh, what’s going to happen when Todoroki and Kirishima finally get back home? 👀👀👀 »

What did you think of the Kirishima POV part of this chapter? I feel like calling his mate by his last name is a bit silly, but I also noticed I overused their names. It’s just "Shoto... Kirishima... Shoto's... Kirishima..." on and on.

I can now confidently say that the prologue is complete—unless I decide otherwise in the next update!

As always, criticism are welcome !

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

03 <- 04 -> 05

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist, I may have underestimated how much work a taglist is 😭

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

When Their GF Is Followed Home

Pairing : ot8 (separately) x f!reader TW : reader getting followed ; reader panicking ; honestly it's fluffy ; major anxiety though ; might be anxiety inducing or triggering ; Word Count : Bangchan (745) ; Minho (847) ; Changbin (747) ; Hyunjin (1370) ; Jisung (1396) ; Felix (1114) ; Seungmin (1564) ; Jeongin (1645) -TOTAL : 9.4k AN : this is entirely self indulgent and I will write my requests, this is kind of a coping mechanism for me. Thank you for being patient with me and for everyone who commented on my post about what had happened and I really do appreciate and love all of you. I won't tag my perm. tag list in this one because it isn't really a request or anything, it's just for me, but I'm gonna post it here just in case anyone else needs it or wants to read it.

You should have been home 5 minutes ago, he knew exactly the amount of time it took for you to get from your job to the house, and even if traffic was bad, it would only tack on an extra 3 or 4 minutes. It’s been 20 minutes since you told him you got out of work, and now he was starting to worry. Did you have to stay late? It wasn’t unlikely, but you’d usually tell him these things so he wouldn’t wait up for you at night. 

His phone started vibrating, and when he saw your name as the caller ID, he let out a little sigh of relief… Until he answered and he heard the sound of the car running, which wasn’t what he was used to considering you were a strict advocate of not using your phone while driving at all. Then he heard your heavy breaths and your sniffling. You were crying. “Channie…” You whispered, the sound of his name shaky when it left your lips. “I’m being followed… I don’t know what to do…” 

The panic that he initially felt came back tenfold, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do. It’s not like he’d tell you to stop the car so he could get to you, he didn’t know what the person following you was capable of or even what they planned on doing. “Call the cops… Okay? Call the cops and go back to your work. Stay in your car… Lock the doors and keep the windows up.” 

You gasped before he heard the loud sob, he was terrified just hearing about it, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how you felt right now. “O-Okay… Bye… I… I love you…” You stammered, and the way you said it only had him freaking out even more. It sounded like you were saying goodbye to him, not like you normally would, but like a final goodbye. 

He knew where you were going, and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t sit at home and wait. He needed to know right then that you were okay, so he grabbed his keys, not even bothering to change into his shoes, running straight out the door and climbing in his car, racing towards your work. His own hands were shaking as his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, his entire body was trembling as his head filled with the worst thoughts of what could have happened to you. 

The ride to your work was actually quite short, just a couple blocks, but right now it felt like it took forever to get there, but once he was finally in the parking lot, he could see that you were parked right out front. He pulled his car around to park behind you, quickly climbing out to run over to yours. 

It was heartbreaking to see the way you jumped when he got up to the window, the way your body was still shaking and your one hand still wrapped around the wheel in a vice grip as if you were ready to speed off if that person did come back. Once you realized it was him though, you rolled your window down, and then he really saw you. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and you were practically hyperventilating. “I-It’s my b-boyfriend…” You said to whoever it was on the phone, and when he glanced at it, he could see that you were still on the phone with the police. “I’ll hang up now… Thank you…” You whispered before ending the call and then looking up at him with the glassiest eyes, the saddest eyes, and all he wanted to do was hold you, to tell you that everything would be okay. “An officer is… on the way… right now…” 

“I’ll stay here with you, I’m not leaving you.” He assured you, grabbing your hand through the window and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help… I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I promise I won’t let anything like that happen ever again.” And now he was crying, you both were crying as you sat in the parking lot, but that promise that he made was one that he’d stick to and keep forever. You were the most precious thing in his life and he’d make sure that you never have to go through something like that ever again.

It was a late night in the practice room, another comeback and he wanted this one to be just as powerful as the last so he was practicing his dances as much as he could. He was taking a small break, resting against the mirrored walls of the room when his phone started vibrating on the floor beside him, the sight of your name and picture on his screen had all of his exhaustion washing away and a smile spreading across his face. 

“You know I love you… Right…?” Was the first thing you said as soon as he answered the phone, and the question alone had his heart sinking, but the way you said it, the way you sounded, he knew that something was wrong. “I’m headed back up to my work right now… I just wanted you to know that I love you so much… Give the cats kisses for me. I gotta go though… I’ll text you when I can…” 

The call ended before he was even able to say anything, but it was all so cryptic, it scared the hell out of him. Whatever was happening, he could tell that you were beyond scared, and for some reason you were saying your final goodbyes, and that had him pushing himself up off the floor and rushing out of the practice room and down the hall to the elevators. 

He was pissed at himself for staying at work so late, the building was on the complete opposite side of town, there was no way in hell he was going to make it to you. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, and all of the texts that he was sending didn’t seem to be going through because you weren’t answering any of them. He felt physically sick, like the entire room was spinning and his knees felt weak and he couldn’t breathe and he really just wanted to hear from you, to know that you were okay. 

“You shouldn’t be on your phone while you’re driving, you could cause an accident, Min.” He remembered the way you’d scold him from the passenger seat if he even reached for his phone while his car was in motion. That little memory only scared him more because he heard the sound of your engine running in the background of the call, you were on your phone while you were driving… Or maybe… Maybe you weren’t driving… Maybe it was someone else… His stomach sank deeper at the thought. There had been so many stories coming out recently about things that happened to unsuspecting people… You were so nice, so naive… He needed you to answer him, he needed you to text him back. 

20 minutes had passed since the initial phone call, he had sent you so many texts, and you finally answered him. “Heading home now… I’m sorry.” He was standing at the front door, waiting for your car to pull up, and when it did, there was an officer driving behind you. His heart was racing as he ran out of the house barefoot, not even caring as he ran out into the street to pull open your door, sighing heavily when he saw you sitting there. “What happened…?” He whispered, his hands landing on your shoulders as you climbed out of the car, and he couldn’t not notice how puffy and red your eyes were, but instead of answering, you fell against his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around him. 

The officer had to take some information, and once Minho had thanked him for escorting you home, he walked you into the house, pulling you down on the couch beside him. You told him what had happened, and he went through an array of emotions. Anger, sadness, panic, but most of all, he felt downright awful. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that’s what was happening?” He questioned as you laid against his chest, your fingers gripping tightly onto his shirt as your body continued to tremble. The fear that you had felt still hadn’t left, and he was sure it would be there for a while, and rightfully so. 

“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt trying to race to my job… I know how you are. I just wanted you to know that I love you…” You whispered back, your voice cracking as you started to cry once again. “I know that you love me, and I love you too, so much. I’m gonna drive you to and from work now… I can’t have anything happening to you… I’ve never been so scared in my life.” He murmured, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. Now that he knew you were safe, that fear and desperation that he had felt subsided but quickly turned to anger. He wanted nothing more than to hunt this guy down, to find out who it was and make him feel the same way you felt. You’re his everything, and he was going to do right by you no matter what it takes.

He was in the studio with Chan and Jisung, his phone muted so as to not ruin the recording process. Maybe he had just become complacent in the fact that nothing had ever happened before when you were on your way home, but he never felt the need to have his phone turned on when you were at work or while he was at the studio and you knew that. You’d text him at some point if you had the chance and vice versa, but you both knew that once the two of you were home you’d have so much to talk about it would keep you up for hours. 

“I’m gonna head out now, Y/N should be home by now.” Changbin said, getting up from his chair and stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He was always the first to come in and get things started so that he could be the first to leave, not wanting you to be at home alone for too long. 

On his venture to the elevator, he finally pulled out his phone, noticing that his lockscreen was filled with missed calls from you from over an hour ago, and then a text from you from 25 minutes ago. You would never call him that much when he was in the studio… Unless there was an emergency… But there were never any emergencies. You worked right down the street from the house, what could possibly happen in that short amount of time? Unless there was an emergency in your job and you were trying to call him. 

Before even checking the text, he called you back, opting to take the stairs just to get out of the building faster as he held his phone up to his ear, waiting to hear your voice. “Binnie… I’m sorry I called so much… I’m okay now.” You whispered into your phone, and there was nothing truly relieving about what you said. You being okay now meant that you hadn’t been okay before and he wasn’t there to help you or even answer your calls when you needed him to. 

“What happened?” He urged, pushing through the exit door on the side of the building and coming out into the parking lot, slightly breathless from the amount of stairs he had just sprinted down in a matter of minutes. “Did you get hurt? Are you home? Where are you right now?” He needed more answers, but all he could hear were your shaky breaths over the line. “Baby… Talk to me, please.” 

He was getting more panicked the longer you stayed silent, and he could hear you softly sniffling as if you were crying. “I’m home… Not hurt… An officer escorted me home. I’ll tell you about it when you get in… Okay? I don’t want to talk about it when I’m by myself…” 

When he finally made it home and came through the door you were waiting for him right beside it, your cheeks stained with tear streaks, and you crashed into him as your body shook with uncontrollable sobs. “Shh… It’s okay… I’m here now…” He cooed, rubbing his hand soothingly over your back, although he still wasn’t sure what had truly happened, it must have been awful for you to be like this. “Tell me what happened…” 

As he sat and listened to you, all he could imagine was how scared you must have been. You were still shaking and you were already home, it must have been downright terrifying to be going through it at that moment. He wanted to know everything about what you possibly could have seen, what was the make of the car, what did the driver look like… He wanted to know every single detail. “Don’t try to find him… It’s not worth it…” You said shakily, holding tightly onto his hand. “It’s over now…” 

But it wasn’t over… Because you hadn’t seen the plate numbers, and all you could go off of was a vehicle description, and whoever this guy was… He was still out there. He could do it to someone else, he could come back and do it to you again… Changbin didn’t want to take those chances. For now though, he agreed, because he wanted to take care of you and make sure you were alright and make sure you felt safe. One thing he was certain about though… He’d never put his phone on silent again.

“I’m in my car now, I’ll text you when I get in the house. I love you!” The text came in and Hyunjin read it quickly, smiling to himself as he sank deeper into the couch at the dorms. You hadn’t been together very long, at least not long enough to take that step to moving in together, but he liked to know exactly when you got off work and exactly when you made it home. The second text that he had gotten used to, that he had timed almost perfectly to come in at least 7 to 10 minutes after the first text meant that you were safe and he’d finally be able to call you on the phone and hear your voice. 

When it went past 15 minutes and that second text didn’t come in, his initial thought was that you had just forgotten. Maybe work was just really tiring today and you ended up laying on the couch and passing out… But that didn’t make sense either… You’ve had days like that before and you still texted him to let him know you made it home safe… You just weren’t able to call him because you had gone straight to bed right after. 

“Hey honey… Did you make it home? Text me as soon as you can… I’m getting worried.” He quickly typed out the message, dropping his phone onto his lap as he nervously watched his screen. There were some nights that you’d stop at the store or the gas station on your way home, but even then, you’d text him beforehand that you planned on going there before going home, and then you’d text him when you made it to whatever destination you were headed to. 

After 5 minutes of you still not responding he couldn’t take it anymore, dialing your number quickly and heading to the front door. You had never gone this long without answering him, and you certainly wouldn’t have ignored a phone call from him. He even had his own special ringtone in your phone so you’d know it was him. Something must have happened, and his mind immediately jumped to the worst. 

“What’s going on?” Chan asked as he turned the corner from the kitchen, watching Hyunjin pull on his shoes. “You’re heading out?” Hyunjin never left this late at night, he’d usually already be in his room talking on the phone with you, his giddy voice heard through the walls, giving Jisung and Changbin perfect ammunition to tease him with the next morning. 

“Y/N hasn’t texted me to let me know she made it home… She didn’t answer my text or my call…” Hyunjin said, frantically looking around the room as if he was missing something, but it was just his phone which was still in his hand. He felt like a chicken running around with his head cut off, but the panic seemed reasonable at this point. “Can you drive me to her place?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes silently pleading with his hyung to say yes. 

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just stuck in-” 

“No! She lives in a residential area… Her work is only a couple blocks away… She doesn’t have to go through traffic! Something happened!” Hyunjin shrieked, running his hands through his hair. “Look, if you’re not going to take me to her house, fine… I’ll catch a cab or something. But I need to be there. I need to make sure she’s alright.” 

So Chan relented, grabbing his keys off the hook and following Hyunjin out the door, trying his best to keep up with the younger guy who seemed to be racing against time as he ran down the hall to the stairs. 

In Hyunjins hurry to leave the dorms, he had forgotten to grab the key you had given him to get into your house, but he knew you weren’t home yet. The lights weren’t shining through the blinds in the window, there were no lights on at all. Your dog was still barking at the front door as he and Chan sat on your front porch. But what really gave away that you weren’t home was the fact that your car wasn’t parked out front. 

Every single set of headlights that came around the bend had Hyunjin standing up, checking to see if it were you only to dejectedly sit back down as the car sped past. You still hadn’t texted him back and his heart continued to sink deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach the longer the silence lasted. 

Two sets of headlights came around, both of them lighting up the street, and this time Hyunjin didn’t even bother to stand up, his head dropping back down to stare at his phone screen as he expected them to drive right by like the other cars did… Until the car in front parked right in front of your house, and he realized that the car that had been driving behind was a cop car. 

He pushed himself up off the stairs, tripping over his feet as he ran down to meet you outside of your car, practically pulling you out of it once your seatbelt was unlatched. “Oh my baby… What happened?!” He cried, his eyes already welling up as he looked you over, checking for any sign of injury or harm, but all he could see was that you had been crying, you were still crying. “Baby…?” His voice lowered a little more as he looked at you with worry filled eyes, his bottom lip jutting out. 

“I am going to need some information. Your license and your phone number.” The cop said, and Hyunjins eyes widened. Did you get into an accident? Your car didn’t look damaged or dented, and you’d have surely called him if something like that did happen. He watched as you handed over your license to the officer, your hands trembling and your breaths shallow and uneven. “If something like that ever happens again, if you see that car or the driver, just call that number…” The officer handed you a tiny white card and gave you a sympathetic smile. “You’re okay, everything is gonna be okay.” 

He was more confused than ever now as he watched the officer climb back in his car, but he didn’t take the time to watch him drive away, quickly grabbing your bag and then leading you up to your house. “I’m sorry… Sorry for worrying you…” You croaked out as you kicked your shoes off and dropped down onto the couch, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“No… Don’t apologize…” Hyunjin squatted down in front of you, grabbing both of your hands and giving them a light squeeze. “The cop followed you home… What happened? Why?” He questioned, kissing the back of your hands before cupping your cheeks, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. 

“I was… followed home… I had to go all the way around… And they kept following me. They blinded me with their high beams and… I called the cops. I didn’t know what to do… I drove back up to work…” You explained, your breaths coming out more heavy, your words broken up by loud sobs as your head fell forward. “I was so scared, Hyunjin…” 

He didn’t say anything, instead he scurried up onto the couch, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap, his hand moving up to the back of your head to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Hot tears fell against his skin as he rocked you, whispering I love you’s as he held you close against him. 

There wasn’t much he could do, it had already happened, it’s not like he would have been able to stop it. Now all he could do was try to fight that fear, to make you feel safe again. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth fighting for was ever easy. “I’m moving in… I don’t want you to be alone. Text me when you get off work and I’ll get a ride down there just so I can ride with you back home. This’ll never happen again, I swear.”

The problem with being out of the country for tours was the fact that he couldn’t bring you with him. Not only was it protocol from his staff members and management themselves, but your work didn’t really allow you that much time off. Whenever he was away, the two of you depended on texts, calls, and video chats to talk to each other, and with him being so far away, he liked to know everything. He wanted minute by minute updates on how your day was going and whether you made it to and from work safely. The guys would always tease him and say he’s being a little redundant, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to make sure the person you love is okay. 

Your work schedule was never consistent either, which sometimes made it hard for Jisung to relax. Sometimes you’d get off work at 8pm, and other times you wouldn’t even be leaving the building until 11pm. It just depended on how much you had to do, and that would leave him restless, waiting for your text to come in to let him know you were on your way home. 

Tonight seemed to be a late night, and even though he wasn’t back at the house waiting for you, he couldn’t help but anxiously look over at his phone every couple seconds to see if your text had come in. He was about to start a live stream, it was already 10:40pm where you were, and there hadn’t been a single text yet, so he decided to text you. 

“Hey pookie bear, I’m about to start the live. You can still text me to let me know when you get off and please let me know when you get home. I love you so so so much!! I can’t wait to be back home with you!” He quickly sent the text before setting his phone down to the side to start the stream, trying his best to shake the nerves so he could turn on the camera. 

15 minutes into the stream his phone started vibrating. It wasn’t a text, it was a phone call coming in, and one glance over had him reading your name. Maybe you hadn’t read his text, but you usually didn’t call him during a stream, and you rarely ever called him when you were on your way home, and he still hadn’t texted him… Something must be wrong. He looked to the staff member who seemed just as confused on what to do, but he decided to answer it anyway. He wasn’t going to just let it go to voicemail. 

“Sungie… Baby…” Your voice came through softly, slightly muffled by the sound of the car engine humming in the background. “I love you so much… You mean the world to me, and you’re so special, you’re so amazing at everything you do… And I’m just… I’m so lucky that you’re my boyfriend, and I really wish I could spend the rest of my life with you… I just wanted you to know that. I have to go now though… I’ll text you if I can… Love you…” 

Now, Jisung was rarely ever stunned into silence, but this call had him staring blankly at the staff behind the camera who hadn’t heard anything. The call ended so quickly, but you were clearly panicking, you were crying, and he had never felt so hopeless in his life. He was thousands of miles away, and now you weren’t answering any of his calls. “The fans are wondering where you went…” The staff member said, but how was he supposed to worry about the fans when you were clearly in trouble, or hurt, or both. 

“I don’t know if I can… I…” Jisung stammered, running his hands over his face, feeling his palms get dampened with the tears that had started to fall. “Y/N is in trouble and I really need to try to get a hold of her… I can’t get back on like this… I’m scared.” He explained, but the staff member rolled his eyes, coming over with a box of tissues and setting it down in front of Jisung before flicking back on the camera. 

He didn’t have a choice it felt, but once the camera was off and the stream was over, he’d be having a long talk with the managers about the staff member who clearly wasn’t concerned with anything but himself. For the time being, he pretended to read comments off his phone as he stared at the text screen, waiting for you to say something, anything, to let him know that you were okay. 

It felt like forever, but in actuality, it was only another 10 minutes before another one of your texts came in. “I’m home now… A cop followed me home to make sure I’d be okay. I don’t want to worry you, it’s over with now, but I know that you’ll still ask, but I was followed home… I’ll explain everything when I get the chance to, but right now I just want to take a shower and go to bed. I love you… I can’t wait to see you either.” 

The text wasn’t in any way helpful, it actually made him feel nauseous, knowing that he wasn’t there when you had clearly been through something so traumatic that it made you feel like you had to call him just to say goodbye. The stream was still going, but he couldn’t be bothered to focus on it anymore, his attention solely on his phone screen as he continued to read and reread the message. He couldn’t keep up the act though, and once he had fully processed what he read, he looked to the camera. “I have to go now, there’s an emergency. I’m sorry… Please be safe, STAY. I love all of you.” 

As soon as the camera was off and the live stream ended, the staff member was pissed, but Jisung was just as angry. He was angry at himself, angry at the guy who was now coming closer to grab the laptop who had selfishly forced him to continue to live stream. “This is ridiculous. I’m sure the managers are gonna be real happy, especially ending a stream like that. I can only imagine the rumors that’ll come up.” 

Jisung didn’t care about any of that though, all he cared about was you. He pushed himself up out of the chair and headed to his hotel room door, pulling it open and motioning for the staff member to leave. “There is an emergency, and my girlfriend being terrified after being followed home when she was leaving work isn’t ridiculous. She’s terrified and I’m not there to physically comfort her and the last thing I want to do is a fucking live stream pretending that everything is all sunshine and rainbows. So get out, I have to call her.” 

Since you were okay, Jisung couldn’t exactly use your fear as a reason to leave the tour early, much to his disappointment. He wanted you to come out to be with him though, even if only for a couple days to help get your mind off of what had happened, but of course, you were still needed at work and your job really didn’t care that you had gone through something like that… Which again, made Jisung hate your job more than he already did. 

The distance seemed to feel so much further after what happened though, and there was nothing that would make him fully relax until he got home. For now though, you both agreed to stay on the phone with one another whenever you were driving, even if he was on a stream or in the middle of a concert, he’d stop everything he was doing to make sure you made it work and back home safe without something like this happening for a second time, and that agreement carried on even when he got home from tour… And now when you got home and he was there, he’d be waiting for you at the front door with open arms. That fear wouldn’t just stick with you, but it stuck with him too… The fear of losing you, of not knowing what to do… He never wanted either of you to feel that way again.

Your schedule was erratic to say the least, there was never a set time to you getting off, and Felix, being the sunshine that he is, trusted that you’d get home safe without any problems every single night that you did work. That’s why he didn’t expect you to call him or text him, he just believed that everything would be fine, and when you did get home, you’d let him know all about your day as he sat beside you on the couch. 

Tonight was no different, other than the fact that he was staying at the dorms because he had to head out early for a music video shoot the very next morning. You knew about this, and while you both hated being away from each other, you understood that his work was demanding, and sometimes it demanded that he be away from you for long periods of time. Instead of talking about your days in person tonight, you both had agreed on video calling each other, which was something that he was excitedly awaiting. 

When his phone started to buzz, he jumped off the couch and ran to his bedroom, shutting the door and locking it before answering and flopping down on his bed, a smile spread across his face as he waited to hear your usually cheerful greeting. “Felix…” You gasped out his name, and the happiness that he had expected to hear wasn’t there at all. He immediately went into panic mode, sitting upright on his bed and holding his phone closer to his ear. “I…I’m being followed, I don’t know what to do… I already drove past the house and… They’re still following me. They almost drove right into me… Felix I’m scared… What do I do?” 

You were audibly crying which had his own tears on the brink of falling over the edge, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly as his leg bounced over the side of the bed. “Hang up, angel… Call the police. You have to call the cops, right now… Okay?” He urged, or, moreso, demanded you to do. He hated the fact that he told you to hang up, but he knew that there was nothing he could do from where he was at right now. 

“Y-Yeah… Okay… I love you.” Was how the call ended, not even having the opportunity to say it back. He couldn’t sit still, adrenaline was coursing through his veins, and he wanted to go to you, he wanted to go to your apartment and wait for you there just to know that you made it home safe. The worst part was that he didn’t even know where you were going right now, he should have asked, but he didn’t want to waste anymore time which was essential to you and your safety at that moment. 

He couldn’t even stand to be cramped in his room that felt a little bit too small right now, walking out into the main room where the guys were sitting, and as if his emotions were like a cloud that had hit all of them at once, their heads lifted to look at him, questioning the tension that was radiating off of him in waves. “Y/N is being followed… Fuck! I don’t even know where she’s at right now… And she’s on the phone with the cops… I can’t call her…” He ranted, his hands running anxiously through his hair. 

“Do you want to drive out there to her apartment to make sure she makes it home? I can drive you there.” Minho offered, and Felix looked around the room once before nodding his head in agreement, shuffling over to the door and pulling on the first pair of shoes he could find. “I’m sure she’ll be okay. She’s a smart girl, she probably went back to her work.” His hyung tried his best to instill comforting thoughts, but Felix couldn’t stop thinking the worst. 

“Why would anyone follow her? Why would someone try to scare her like that? They could have caused her to get in an accident! What if they were trying to hurt her?!” Felix continued to ramble, and there was truly nothing that anyone could say to get him to think otherwise, not until he saw you again and made sure that you were truly okay. 

Just as Minho pulled up outside the apartment building, you were pulling into your parking spot, followed by an officer who parked a little further away. You seemed to be in a daze when you climbed out of the car, not even noticing that Felix and Minho were right there. Your keys jingled at your side from how much you were shaking, and he hated seeing you this way. He hated to know that someone, some stranger, had caused you to get like this. 

“Angel…” Felix blurted out, causing you to jump and drop your keys, which he rushed over to pick up off the ground before you could even begin to bend over to grab them. “You’re alright?” He questioned, holding you at arms length to check you over, and once he saw that you were okay, other than the crying, he pulled you against his chest. “You’re alright. You’re safe now…” He cooed, not even wanting to let you go for a minute to get out of the street and walk you into the apartment. 

“It was awful… I’ve never been more scared… My hands were shaking… I never use my phone while I’m driving… I couldn’t even focus… I thought I’d crash…” You choked out, your face still buried in his shirt as he continued to pet his hand over your hair. “He… He flashed his headlights at me… And I wasn’t going to stop… I just kept going… And I was scared my gas would run out and…” 

Felix shushed you, not wanting you to continue reliving those moments, at least not right now. You were safe with him, you were okay, although the mention of the headlights had him remembering a news report he had seen a while back about what that sometimes meant and it made him sick to his stomach. “You’re such a smart girl, angel… You did great. I’m gonna stay with you tonight, and all day tomorrow. I’ll head to the set the next day. I’m gonna get you one of those dash cameras… I gotta make sure my angel is safe, always.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, giving you a soft sympathetic smile. “Let’s get inside, get you something to drink, and then we can lay down and cuddle for the rest of the night… How does that sound?”

“What time do you think you’re getting off tonight?” Seungmin asked from the back room, the stylist working around his phone that he had held up to his ear. Hearing your voice always helped calm his nerves before he did an interview, although he’d never tell anyone else that. 

“Not sure… It’s a late night tonight. I’ve got a bunch of stuff to do when I finish actually working.” You answered dejectedly. Seungmin hated how much your job seemed to overwork you, and it wasn’t just that, but they didn’t even show any sort of appreciation for the things that you did. There was no raise in your near future, although Seungmin would always be the first one demanding that you get one whenever you brought it up. No one even thanked you, it’s like they simply expected it of you, which pissed him off. 

“You know that I’d take care of you. You don’t have to stay there.” He reminded you, and he heard your tired chuckle, one that usually meant that you wanted to take him up on the offer, but you couldn’t take him up on the offer either, and that’s why he never pushed the issue any further. “I’m doing an interview, but you know the number for the staff if there’s an emergency, right?” You hummed in agreement, and he sighed quietly. “Text me as soon as you get off work and as soon as you get through the front door. Okay?” 

“Alright. I love you.” You whispered, and you couldn’t see it, but his cheeks raised and turned a light shade of pink, his heart fluttering at those three words. You were the only person that could ever make him get like this. “I gotta get back to work. I can’t wait to hear about the interview tonight.” 

“Mm… I’ll tell you all about it. Don’t overwork yourself… And don’t play your music too loud in the car, you won’t be able to hear anything.” He preemptively scolded you, and he knew that you were rolling your eyes, but you always played your music a little bit too loud… Something that worried him when he knew you were driving home alone at night. He wished that he could be there waiting for you when you got home, but he’d be there soon enough, and that’s what was going to get him through the interview. 

About 30 minutes into the interview, Seungmin saw one of the staff members bring their phone up to their ear, their mouths immediately falling as they listened to whatever it was that was going on. Seungmin was observant, but he wouldn’t have thought anything of it if the member didn’t make direct eye contact with him before walking further away from the interview set. 

None of the other guys seemed to notice, and neither did the interviewer, they were all still talking and goofing off, making it harder for Seungmin to even try to hear what was being said. “I’m not feeling too well, can I have a minute?” He said, still staring at the staff member who seemed to be on the phone still. The guys all turned to look at him, but he didn’t have time to answer their questions, not when he had his own that he needed answers to. 

By the time he got up and made his way over to the staff member, the call seemed to be over, but the girl who had answered the call seemed to still be a little shaken up. Whatever it was, it must be bad. Once she noticed he was standing there, her head was already shaking, her mouth opening and closing as if she didn’t know what to say, which only annoyed Seungmin. If it was serious, he wanted to know right now. “She called… Y/N called… She was crying and panicking and… She said she was being followed and… She said she’s on her way back to her work now and she’s calling the police… I told her to call them…” 

Seungmins mind was immediately going through different scenarios, a multitude of different reasons for something like this to be happening. He was trying to be as rational as possible, which was quite hard to do when the worry was setting in and he felt absolutely helpless as your boyfriend. “Good… Good… That’s good…” He rambled, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to think of what to do. “Let them know that I need to go… I need to get up to her work right now…” 

There was only a short list of people that would follow you and have you panicking so badly. It was either a crazed fan that wanted to get to Seungmin or wanted to hurt you for being with him, or some absolute psychotic stranger. Crazily enough, it would be better if it were a fan honestly, at least Seungmin would know the motive and knew that most of them were hopefully not dumb enough to do something crazy in a public space such as your work. If it were a stranger… He didn’t know what they were capable of, and that scared the hell out of him. 

It felt like he was racing against time, and in that race, the staff member that was driving seemed to catch every single red light. It was aggravating, it was infuriating, and what was worse was the fact that you still hadn’t answered any of his texts which he had been sending out every five seconds, and the only reason it was taking that long was because he needed to type them out. 

By the time he got to your work, the cop was just pulling up. You had been sitting out in your car in front of the store for that long just waiting for an officer, and that too bothered him to no end. What if something bad had happened? Why didn’t the officer come quicker? He didn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before jumping out and running over to your passenger door and knocking on the window. 

“Excuse me!” The officer shouted, rushing over to Seungmin, but you quickly rolled down the window, exclaiming that he was your boyfriend and unlocking the door so he could climb in. Of course, the officer needed to take down some information which seemed to take even longer when all Seungmin wanted to do was get back to the house with you and comfort you. 

“I didn’t want to ruin the interview…” You murmured as you put the car in drive, slowly taking off and heading back down the street. “I didn’t think they’d tell you… I’m sorry for making you leave.” If you weren’t driving, Seungmin would have kissed you to get you to stop thinking that way. An interview definitely wasn’t more important than your safety. “Are the guys mad?” 

Seungmin sighed, his head leaning back against the headrest but turned in your direction so he could look at you. Your knuckles had turned pale from how tight you were gripping the steering wheel, and your body was still shaking. You shouldn’t be driving like this. “This would be quite a stupid thing to get mad about, wouldn’t it? If you need me, I’m always going to run to you, before anything else. You’re my priority first and foremost.” He explained, and you nodded your head slowly, shakily sniffling as your bottom lip began to tremble. “I love you… That’s why I ran to you. She didn’t even have to tell me what was going on… As soon as she looked at me and I saw that look on her face, I asked her what happened. I’m so sorry you had to go through that by yourself… But never again…” 

You shook your head, your face scrunching up as you gasped sharply. “I still have to drive at night to get home from work. I… I don’t know if I can… Just the thought of it…” Your head dropped as you came to a stop sign, your hands quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks, and he wished he could have done it for you. “I’ve never… I don’t ever… God… Seungmin I’m so scared… What if they do it again?” If it were to happen again, if the same person were to come after you… Seungmin wouldn’t hold back. They were messing with the most precious thing in his life, and the fact that they had gotten away with it now, they should count themselves lucky. But Seungmin wouldn’t allow it to happen again, he wouldn’t allow you to be put in a situation where it could happen again. “I know you, for some reason, feel like you need to stay at your job. I’m not going to take that away from you… But I don’t want you driving at night by yourself again… Ever again. I’ll have one of the staff members come pick you up. Or I’ll have them drop me off so that I can ride with you. Either way… If you truly want to keep working there on that shift… You’re not driving alone at night anymore. I love you, and I don’t think I’d be able to live if anything ever happened to you. I’m going to make sure you’re safe. Always.”

He was performing tonight on Music Bank, and you had told him that you’d try to make it home in time to catch his performance. Of course, he told you it would be okay if you didn’t, and that he didn’t want you rushing to get done and potentially getting hurt trying to get home too fast. He already had your TV set up to record their episode just in case you weren’t home in time to see it. 

Your break managed to come at just the time that he was getting done up by his stylist, sending you silly little selfies to try to make you feel better after you had told him about how awful and busy your day had been. “I’m hoping I’ll be done soon, and then I can get home and change into my pajamas before the show starts.” 

Even though it made him beyond happy to know that you so eagerly wanted to see him perform, he wanted you to be safe, and he appreciated you regardless of whether you caught the show or not, just the fact that you wanted to rush so you could catch it was enough for him. “You have time… So please, take it. You won’t miss anything anyway, you’ve already seen us perform it multiple times in the practice room.” 

He could sense your eye roll just from staring at his phone screen, the way his message was left on read a couple seconds before the three dots appeared to show you were typing back. “Yeaaaah…. But I still want to watch it. I’m ending my break early just so I can get done faster. I love youuuuu. Hugs and kisses mwah mwah!!” 

How could you be so cute even over text? God, he loved you, and now it only made him worry more about how fast you’d be driving to try to get back home. He quickly typed out his last response. “Please drive the speed limit. I love you most. Seriously… Be safe.” 

15 minutes before the show was about to start, he got another text, and he quickly grabbed his phone from off the vanity table, his heart swelling when he read your message. “I’m fast as fuck baybeeee!!! I’m gonna make it home in time to see your performance. I might not catch the interview before hand though :(“ 

He chuckled to himself, hiding his phone from the guys as he texted you back. “That’s alright, but now that I know you’ll be watching, I’ll do so much better. Get home safe baybeeee! I love you a bunch!” He never thought he’d be this sappy, but with you, it didn’t even make him cringe. He just loved you so damn much, it was like you alone were making his earth spin. 

It didn’t take you that long to get home, he knew the drive from your work to your house by heart, and he was sure that you’d be able to make it home just by the end of the interview. His mind was soaring, thinking of ways that he could do facial expressions or certain moves just for you, things that only you would recognize that you’d know were for you only. It was one of his favorite things to do, giving you something to look for while he was dancing, and then coming home to hear from you if you actually caught it. 

As he stepped out on stage, he found his camera and smiled at it, giving a small wave to the lens before getting into place. This performance would be for you, entirely for you. He couldn’t wait for you to see it. 

He was sweaty, breathless, but excited as he rushed back off to the dressing room, grabbing his phone off the vanity and getting even more giddy when he saw the missed phone call and voicemail from you. It was probably you telling him just how amazing he was and that you had caught the little hand sign and wink that he had done for you. 

Dropping down into his seat, he played the voicemail, full volume because honestly, he didn’t care if the guys heard. You’d probably be complimenting all of them as well in the message. “Jeongin!” Your voice sounded through his speakers, and he wasn’t used to you saying his name like that, especially with that tone, and he immediately perked up in his seat. The sound of your voice had already gotten the attention of the other guys in the room and they had all begun to crowd around Jeongins chair as they listened with him. “Fuck… Fuck fuck… What do you want?!” You whimpered, the sound of your obvious crying and clear panic had Jeongin on edge, his eyes widening as he looked up at Chan. “I love you… And I’m really sorry I didn’t get to catch your performance but I know you and the guys did amazing. Uhm… Shit… Okay… I’m being followed and… And I have to go but… I just wanted you to know that I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.” The kissy sound at the end of the call wasn’t how Jeongin remembered it sounding, but he couldn’t even focus entirely on that. 

You were being followed, and instead of calling the cops first, you called him. Why would you call him? How bad was it? The call came in almost 10 minutes ago. “Call her… See if she answers.” Chan urged, but Jeongin couldn’t seem to get his fingers to move, he couldn’t even seem to breathe evenly as his mind went into a frenzy. “Someone call her! Minho, Changbin, you get him to Y/N’s apartment, someone go find one of the security and go see if they can find out where she is.” 

Minho was on the phone in seconds, dialing your number as he and Changbin ushered a seemingly shellshocked Jeongin out of the room. He was shaking, his phone still tightly gripped in his hand as he robotically followed behind the guys. “Everything is gonna be okay. I’m like… 99% sure she’s okay.” Changbin said, patting Jeongins back as he climbed into the back seat of Changbins car. 

“What about the other 1%?” Jeongin whispered anxiously from the back as Changbin climbed into the car. The two older guys both turned to look at Jeongin, confused about the question, but his hand slapped against the seat beside him. “What about the 1%?! You said you were 99% sure that she’s okay… So what about the other 1%?!” 

Changbin took a deep breath, looking to Minho who only shook his head as he continued trying to call your phone that was going to voicemail as well. “Don’t think about the other 1%. She’s fine. Okay?” 

Jeongin was completely zoned out the entire ride to your house, unable to think of anything except your voicemail. He had never heard you sound so scared and that fear was contagious, he was terrified for you, with you. He didn’t even realize how long Changbin had been driving until the car came to a stop, and he finally looked out the window to see that it was parked right outside of your house. 

The light from the TV was flickering through the blinds, and without a word or a look back, he climbed out of the car and ran to your door, his fist coming down harshly against it. He immediately regretted it though, wondering if the sudden loud knocking would frighten you more, but the door swung open and he saw you, illuminated by the light of the room behind you, already dressed in your pajamas, but your eyes were still puffy and your nose was still sniffling. You had been crying still. 

“Innie…” You croaked out his name, and he quickly pulled you into his arms, inhaling the scent of you, simply wanting to hold you after being worried for so long that he had lost you. “I’m sorry I missed it… I was watching it though… Just now…” 

He sighed softly, shaking his head as he tilted your back with his finger, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m not worried about that. God… I’m just… I’m happy that you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened to you…” But he cut himself off, biting his bottom lip to keep from pessimistically rambling about all of the awful things that could have happened. “You’re okay though? Not hurt?” 

You shook your head in response, giving him a small smile. “Just a little shaken up… You’re here now though… I feel a lot better.” You were acting so strong, and he knew that you were only doing it because you could see how scared he had been. “I shouldn’t have called you and worried you like that… It was a… Just in case call… So that you’d know that-” 

He kissed you again, stopping you from continuing that thought. “I’m glad you called me…” He kissed you again, his hands cupping your cheeks now as he brushed his thumbs along your dampened cheeks. “But I want you to call the police first if anything like that happens again… I really want you to move to the morning shift so that nothing like that happens again…” You nodded your head slowly as your sniffles subsided until they weren’t heard anymore. “And I’m gonna get my permit… I’m gonna learn how to drive, I’ll have the guys teach me… I don’t want you driving by yourself anymore. I’ll be your personal chauffeur. Until then… I’ll just ride with you and wait up at your work until you get off.” You scoffed, but he wasn’t joking, and you quickly realized that. “You don’t know how worried I was… I wouldn’t be able to live anymore if you were gone.”

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Shame(less) • Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader; Adrian Pucey x f!reader

Summary: y/n feels ashamed for cheating on her boyfriend with Mattheo, but the same couldn't be said fo the dark haired boy.

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: Cheating, slight cursing

A/N: It was supposed to be a drabble but oh well. I really don't like how it turned out, but I might write a Theo version if people ask. Comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated :) ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @chelawrites @isntthatsweetiguessso @aegon-andaemondtargaryenslut18

Christmas break was over, and it was time to go back to Hogwarts. It meant going back to the same routine, taking your meals in the Great Hall, going to class, doing your homework, having fun with your friends in Hogsmeade and also spreading time with your boyfriend, Adrian. The prospect should have made you happy, and you should have been looking forward to seeing him, but you just couldn’t. Not when he would be here too.

After arriving at the castle, you met Pansy in the Slytherin common room. You two hugged warmly, and talked about your respective holidays. You did your best to focus on what your best friend was saying, nodding at her words, but you could feel your heart beat fast with anxiety, and your eyes kept taking glimpses around in case Adrian or him came in. After a moment, Pansy left to go unpack her bags, and seconds later, you jumped as you felt two hands on your eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Adrian!” 

With a small laugh, he took his hands off your face and put them on your hips instead as you turned to face him. He bent a little to kiss your lips, and you tried to feel something, anything, but you didn’t. Only shame that you felt something - felt so much - when it was another man’s lips that were on yours. 

“Had a good Christmas? Did you like my gift?”

“Yeah!” You said, trying to sound normal. “It was nice to see my parents, and I really liked your gift, Adrien, it was really beautiful. Thank you. How was yours?”

“Good, good,” he said with a nod. “I liked your gift, as well. But, I have to admit I missed you, babe.” He sighed and continued with a softer voice, “I’m sorry for how I behaved before the break, I…I didn’t give you much attention, and I regret all our fights. Can I start making it up to you?” he finished with a hopeful small smile.

“No”, you should have said. He was right in everything he said, and you had seen couples from school break up for less than that. 

“Okay,” you nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

He kissed your cheek, and you forced your lips to form a smile. 

“I, uh, I have to go unpack my back,” you said.

“Oh. Sure. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Remaining silent, you gave him a nod, and his hands left your hips as you detached yourself from him and walked to your dorm, hoping that staying alone for a moment would allow you to pull yourself back together and finally make the right decision. With a heavy breath, you opened the door, expecting to see the room empty, but there was somebody here, sitting on your bed. You shouldn’t have been surprised, and you already knew who it was - he was always there. 

Mattheo Riddle. In the same house and same year as you. For years, he was just a classmate you didn’t interact much with, except for strange, silent stares that started in your fifth year. Nothing changed when you started dating Adrian, but one night after a fight with him, Mattheo found you all alone, in tears, and sat down to listen to you. Things had escalated, and ever since, you felt nothing but shame and fear that anyone would find out. You tried to avoid him after, to convince himself that it was a mistake. However, if you felt shame, it wasn’t the case for Mattheo. After that night,  and kept staring at you in class, during meals, and especially when Adrian was close to you. And as if it wasn’t enough, he kept trying to spend time alone with you, and eventually succeeded, leading in more “accidents”, as you called them, more shame, as well as less and less affection for your boyfriend and more and more for feelings and shameful desire for the dark haired boy in front of you. And it definitely wasn’t helping that he also kept trying to convince you of his feelings for you and to leave Adrian once and for all.

He raised his head when you came in, and you quickly closed the door behind you, quietly locking it. Your heart started beating faster, and you leant on your door, not daring to get closer. 

“Well, hello, love.” 

You felt your cheeks - or maybe your whole body - becoming hot, and gulped. 

“You can’t be here,” you said with a shaky voice. “What if someone saw you coming in?” 

“Nobody has seen us so far,” Mattheo answered with his usual carelessness you both hated and felt drawn to. “Why would they see me now?” 

“Mattheo, you know perfectly what I meant,” you retorted. “Plus, what if Adrian saw you?” 

Mattheo rose from the bed, and slowly started walking towards you. 

“Speaking of your little boyfriend, I saw you guys before you came in.” His brown gaze hardened like it always did when the topic was Adrian. “It nearly took everything in me to not break his fingers for touching you.” 

“Mattheo,” you sighed. “He’s my boyfriend. He has every right to touch me.” 

Staring at you, Mattheo had a smirk that did not reach his dark eyes and tilted his head. His face was now inches away from yours, and you tried as much as you could to not breathe his perfume. 

“And do I have the right to touch you?” he said in a low voice.

Not waiting for an answer, he brought one hand to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb and now looking at you like he had been for a few weeks - with love. 

“Mattheo, please…”

He closed his eyes and brought his nose to your cheek, his thumb still caressing it. “I’ve spent three weeks in hell not seeing, touching, or kissing you,” he whispered. “I fucking need to feel you, love…Even just a kiss…”

One of his hands still on your cheek, the other went under your shirt, and when he started kissing your neck, you knew you were done for. Your body was as hot as ever, and you felt shivers down your spine as well as your body craving Mattheo’s touch. You sighed, and as he brought his mouth to yours, you kissed him back, putting one hand on his back and the other on his neck. He immediately deepened the kiss, and his hands grabbed your legs to put them around his waist. 

“I can’t fucking stand the thought of you being with him,” he mumbled between two kisses. “I can’t stand the thought of not being the only man who gets to touch and kiss you, the only man who can call you his…”

He suddenly stopped kissing you, leaving you breathless.  

“Leave him, y/n. Or I’m gonna go crazy. I could give you…Everything. Everything I have.”

All lust had disappeared from his eyes, leaving only desperation, and love. 

“Fine,” you whispered, feeling incapable of saying no to him. “I’ll leave Adrian tomorrow.” 

Mattheo smiled, and you felt his relief. He gave you a loving kiss before looking at you again, this time with a mix of both love and lust.

“Now that it’s settled and you’re fully mine forever, how about we make up for the time we spent apart?”

You smiled and kissed him, the feeling of shame not disappearing in the slightest. 

Want to be tagged? Just use my Ask-Box!

Masterlist

[reverieblondie]

Be Sweet to Me

Chapter 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: None for this chapter, but there will be eventual smut, Pining, and teasing. For now- Fluff and Miguel struggles with grumpiness and realizing his touched started, but he's just over worked. Alternating POVs

Summary: People say many things about you're co-worker, and sure he's not the most social but you won't give up being friends with him! Little do you know Miguel is juggling so much in his life, and getting used to you is proving to be more difficult than he thought.

A/N: I am so excited to be finally be making this series! The Alternating pov's is different than what I normal do, but I think it works best for this story! This is heavily influenced by the song Be Sweet by Japanese Breakfast. Unsure how many chapters this will be, so look out for updates! if you would like to be tagged please comment to let me know!

Word count: 3,447

Part 2

“Y/n, I need you to organize the samples and make sure that all the documents are in order before the meeting.” 

Giving a slight huff you stop your work, turning on your heels to face your coworker.

“Okay, but what's the magic word?” you playfully tease with the slightest hint of condensation. 

Turning his head you see the unenthused glare in his eyes despite them being shaded behind the round tinted glass. You're still not fully convinced he needs those things inside, some kind of light sensitivity he's explained once but you suspect he might just like the cool guy aesthetic it gives him. Though you wouldn’t blame him if that was truly the case, it does look kinda cool. 

Face scrunched in that way you have gotten used to seeing over these past few months since working here at Alchemax. Chiseled jaw clenched shut, his full lips pressed in that iconic frown, thick brown hair styled back to try and tame the unruly waves, and tall bulky figure that you used to be intimidated by, (okay, sometimes you still are) but you have slowly adjusted to your co-worker: Miguel O’Hara. 

He stared at you for a beat before turning back to his work without another word, his oh-so-subtle way of telling you to shut it and do as you're told. “Alright alright, I’ll get it done. Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

One thing you have learned about working with Miguel is he may not always speak with words so if you want to create an effective work area with him you have got to be good at reading his expressions. Working with a guy like Miguel had its challenges, for one his mood: he's not exactly the easiest to get along with, and people call him cold or cocky depending on the day.  

Then there was how busy he kept himself, always working on something, typing on screens, working with experiments, or tapping away at that clunky watch of his. Even on the days he’s not around due to him ‘working from home’ you can tell just by his face that he hadn’t given himself time to rest. What on earth could keep a man so busy? Well…you had an idea or two… 

Despite his grumpy demeanor you were determined to become friends with Miguel. It didn’t matter what others would tell you about him or how much he distanced himself, you saw the subtle glances, the repressing of smiles, the slight cracks in the shell, You two would become buddies you were sure of it. Maybe he just needed someone to show him the effort, to be sweet to him, then maybe he could lighten up and bring his walls down.  

Pulling out all the stops nothing was going to stop your attempts, you were always nice (even on days where that was particularly hard) Helping with things he didn’t ask of you, organizing and cleaning up behind him. Coffee was always a winner, you knew exactly how he liked it too, you kept making different attempts then stopped on the one where he wasn’t making a face while he took his first sip. -Success! 

Then there was the friendly encouragement, pats on the shoulder, and high fives. Sure he seemed hesitant to them at first but he slowly became used to them, baby steps. 

Every passing day was closer and closer to your friendship blossoming!

Magic word…was she serious? Why should he say please? It's her job to listen to what he tells her and do what he says considering he’s worked here longer. Miguel keeps typing away at his computer, lamenting in his mind how his co-worker was quite the character. 

Miguel couldn’t deny that having a co-worker who was tasked to help him in all his research did help him out more than he would ever admit. Having to juggle the secret identity of Spider-Man, being the leader of the spider society protecting the multiverse, and having to keep his role as head geneticist in Alchemax. Everything could get taxing very quickly on him. Layla was a great AI assistant but she was limited, so having an actual person tagging along to help him with work was bearable, though…you were a bit exuberant and that was taking some getting used to. 

The jokes, the odd habits, your clumsiness, the smart remarks you mumbled under your breath, your overwhelming friendliness. All this he could begrudgingly handle, but the thing that was still overwhelming him was the touching! Sometimes it wasn’t even touching at all you would just be so close.

First noticing it when you would stand so close that he would accidentally bump into you, if he was looking at a sample you were leaning over him to watch. You had no spatial awareness, running into him, running into things! The first month of you working here you broke so many things by running into them he thought they would run out of beakers.

Then the friendly gestures started happening. Miguel was used to people keeping their distance, meeting his gruffness, but you…oh no…you must have seen it has some challenge! The encouraging words, patting of his shoulder, spontaneous high fives, squeezing past him in tight areas, adjusting his coat for him, dusting off crumbs from his chest! Your Friendly proximity made him tense, it was…new and different, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Though it could be worse, you could be a completely useless idiot. To Miguel’s surprise you did have a brain in that head of yours, so the trade-off for actual decent help was some playfulness from you he would just deal. It’s not like he wasn’t used to playful coworkers, the spider society made sure of that. Still, you were different…and that blossoming tingling your touch would leave on him…it was…annoying.  

Miguel's eyes move over to you as he watches you begin the task of organizing the samples and getting everything prepared for the meeting. Begrudgingly he was tasked with having to explain the recent studies and developments the two of you had made. The meeting was honestly bullshit, he hated having to report to the chairman, but they liked to keep a thumb on Miguel, making sure he was still their best brain. In fact, you had offered to take over and run over the presentation for Miguel but they denied that, had to be him…bastards 

For a moment you turn your head and look towards Miguel meeting his eyes, you shoot him a thumbs up and a smile, that friendliness still shining through. With an annoyed huff, he turns away getting back to his work. Still adjusting…

The two of you worked diligently for a couple of hours, in silence of course, there was no time to get distracted with chatting when so much needed to be done. Rubbing his hands over his face he could feel a wave of extortion taking over him. Sleep was something he wasn’t getting regularly, there was just never enough time in the day so sacrifices must be made. 

Eyes growing heavy and vision slightly blurring he feels himself slipping, but he can’t, he won't. Then a shrill alarm begins to blare from Miguel's wrist snapping him back awake. Miguel is quick to place his hand over his watch and sneak out of the lab unnoticed, lucky for him you were too concentrated on your work to notice his absence. Checking the message on his watch, it is a local emergency, something he can handle in fifteen minutes tops. With a quick few cracks of his neck, he's leaving to save the city again. 

Stretching feeling accomplished in yourself getting everything prepped single-handedly. Roaming your eyes around the lab you note the lack of bulk in the room. Huh, no Miguel? He must have done one of his disappearing acts again, probably just going to lunch without you. Invite yourself to lunch with him one time and now he doesn't even tell you when he's going. Matters on that guy, oh well, you might as well go get something before the meeting anyway. Coming to a stopping point you gather your things for a nice quick bite in the cafeteria. 

“I can’t see how you can work with him.” Ah, so much for a nice quick bite…

Sitting there trying to enjoy your lunch it’s the usual suspects who come to sit next to you, talking more at you and around you rather than to you. You can’t help but think that this annoying tinge you feel is what Miguel felt when he was ambushed by you. Though you couldn’t have been as annoying as these people. Complainy and gossipy types are not the best combos with your meal. 

Their subjects range from many topics like complaining about work, to failed experiments, personal problems, idol gossip, then it lands to the one directly aimed at you…Miguel. As soon as the question is asked you're looking up from your food to see all eyes on you. Chewing quickly and swallowing to ask your question. 

“I’m sorry what?” 

Sophia groans, “O’Hara, how can you work with him?” 

“Uh, well he does his thing, I do mine?” 

Julius chimes in “Isn’t he a total dick to you though?”

Cassidy is now giving her input to the topic, “Oh I can only imagine what you go through on the daily.” 

“Well ac-” trying to interject, you can’t even get a word in till you're being cut off by one of them.

“Yeah! Like I bet he is always bossing you around.”

“And probably insulting you in some way,” 

“One time he called my team brainless idiots because we messed up one small thing” -it was not a small thing, that took you and him an all-nighter to fix…

“That was-” you try again only to be cut off once more.

“Oh, and he is always being rude!” 

“God, how can you work with that monster!” 

With that last comment you had it, the noise wasn’t meant to be as forceful as it came out but they kept cutting you off and then bad-talking your research partner, you were fed up. Slamming your hands on the table with a hash slap, effectively silencing them, you rise from your seat grabbing your tray in the process. 

“If you have issues with him you should speak to him like he’s a person. He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance... I've lost my appetite, excuse me…” 

With that, your lunch break was over. 

“Spider-Man!” 

“You saved us!” 

“He’s a hero!”

“But…he’s kinda a jerk…”

“Didn’t he punch an old lady before?”

“I thought she punched him?” 

Uhhgg…would anyone ever get that story right? Miguel is prying the last bus hostage off him as they cling tightly to him. The vulture from his dimension was up to his usual antics but he made quick work of him and was now cleaning up the shocking mess. Having to save the people from the bus was no big deal, it was the pushy reporters, camera lights flickering in his face and the clingy person keeping themselves pressed to him that was the pain to deal with. Taking deep breaths he’s trying to keep his cool, but he can feel himself threatening to boil over. 

How come he can’t just ever save people and leave? Why was there always this extra crap to deal with? Finally getting the person off and seeing that all of what he could do was done he's trying to get out of there, but people can be so pushy…

Questions, Comments, Flashing lights, Praise, Criticism…he couldn’t help but snap, 

“Get out of my way! Leave me alone! And for shock's sake, try to learn to protect yourselves!”  

The crowd was shocked by this sudden outburst, but this should have come as no surprise from the grouchy hero. Spider-Mans in other dimensions were always known for being friendly, witty, funny, and nice to all they saved, Miguel didn’t exactly follow this blueprint. Miguel didn’t exactly mean to sound rude, just being a hero gets exhausting and patience was something he needed to work on. 

Miguel hears the gasp and murmurs amongst themselves about how he’s a dick, a jerk, arrogant, blah, blah…

Rolling his eyes, hidden underneath his mask he couldn't help but think of how irrational these people could be, say one thing the public wasn’t fond of and they are at your throat. It’s all of a sudden no longer how he just saved a busload of people, or saved the city by defeating a villain; No, now it’s about how rude he was. 

“Jerk!” 

“Boo!” 

“I hate you Spider-man!” -great…this just makes everything so much better with this thankless job. 

Swing off before the police come to further irritate him. As he swings back to Alchemax he’s wrapped up in his thoughts. This hero thing was not easy…everything he did wasn’t right, not what people wanted…he was always messing up in some way…nothing was ever good enough, he had to stretch himself thinner and thinner, keeping everything together. The pressure is immense…

Getting back to Alchemax, he changes and tries to resume back to his work, the fight had successfully woken him up but now he’s starving. Eating like sleep has also become a thing he has had to cut for the sake of time, but something quick should be fine before he gets back to work.

Stopping by the cafeteria Miguel immediately spots you sat by Sophia, Julius, and Cassidy, not good company for you to keep. Well honestly anyone, they might catch their stupid. Making sure to be as unnoticed as possible last thing he needs is you trying to wave him over to your table. Coffee with a bagel is all he needs to grab so he can make his escape back to the lab. Grabbing a coffee that thankfully wasn't made by you, his sensitive ears can’t help but catch what's being said at your table. No surprise it’s about him. 

Listening in he is catching fragments of the conversation sipping his coffee trying his best to ignore the meaningless conversation, till a remark of him makes him pause at the threshold of the entryway. 

 “How can you work with that monster!”

Monster…huh…is that how people see him? Mutated, sure, grouchy, and tempestuous maybe, But a monster. A ping in his chest makes his hands tighten around the cup. Talons threatens to poke through but he resists. If they want to see him as a monster then so be it…he doesn't care…

Suddenly, a slam, followed by your familiar voice catches him by surprise,

“He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance”

“Not some monster…” Your words can’t be helped from echoing through his head. You sound so angry, you never sound angry. Looking over he sees your face furrowed in a glare. He didn’t think your face knew how to do that. Watching as you walk away in a haste away from the table he's leaving to his usual eating spot hidden away from others. 

Taking his shades off in the empty break room he dims the lights down as he sinks into one of the chairs. Finally getting even a moment of a break, even taking time to peacefully relax he finds he is unable to. Even sitting leaning back he still feels teased, irritated, stressed. Trying to shut his mind for even a moment, a second of a break he finds it to be an impossible task. But as he sits, his usual stresses fade to be replaced by your words. Miguel could have cared less about what those idiots had to say about him. The surprising thing was that you were defending him…not that he needed it… but it was…kind of you…

Taking a bite out of the bland bagel he groans to himself, annoyed. 

It's almost time for the meeting and you're pacing outside the doors with everything ready to go, except you haven’t seen Miguel anywhere. Running behind is a thing you are not used to from him, he’s usually so timely but you haven’t seen him at all since he left for what you thought was lunch. Did he get caught up doing something else?

 Minutes tick by and you're growing more anxious by the second. Would he just not show up? It’s a possibility, but he would be putting both your asses on the line, though he didn’t have to worry much about that, they wouldn’t fire their best brain, but…you're a bit more expendable.

Before you can continue thinking about your ass being on the chopping block Miguel is rounding the corner adjusting his coat and walking in a casual strut. Looking at him as he approaches you notice his appearance looks a bit different. That shirt does seem a bit wrinkled and his tie is completely messed up from earlier. What has he been doing? Mid-day workout? Did he have an accident in the lab and have to go change? But the clothes are the same, just wrinkled.

Or was he doing something else… Thinking for a moment over what you could be doing that would cause messed up clothes an image of a sweaty grunting Miguel pops into your brain. Pushing down the thought with an internal slap to yourself you decide to greet him as friendly as possible. 

“You're running behind Miguel” -okay you can’t help but tease him a bit. Friends rass each other all the time. 

“Yeah, got…caught up in something…” he speaks hesitantly, suspicious…

Miguel gets ready to go inside but you quickly grab him by the shoulder to get his attention “Hold on there, you can’t go in there looking like that” 

Turning to face you, he looks at you confused then looks down at himself, “What? I look fine.” 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and point to his chest where his tie is haphazardly knotted together in a rushed fashion.

“Your tie” Before he can protest your hands are already getting to work losing his tie gently, “Let me help you” 

With the silk tie undone hanging down his chest, you're moving your hands to raise his collar. As you concentrate on the task your eyes are fixed on his neck you observe that as your fingers slightly brush over his warm skin his body teases slightly. Straightening his neck, you know he’s about to say something.  

“Why are you nice to me? I know what others say about me, so how come? Are you trying to pity me?” His voice is stern and this isn’t what you were expecting out of him right now. Did he hear you earlier? 

The slight laugh that escapes you couldn’t be helped. Moving your hands you cross the two ends to tie in a classic Windsor knot. “Leave it to you to think someone being nice to you is just a ruse to pity you. I just want to be nice to you.” 

Remaining silent you continue to loop and twist the tie, your knuckles blushing over him, you swear you see his skin pickle up for a moment with a slight shiver. Finishing up, you tighten it to his neck and carefully fold his collar back down, keeping your eyes on your work at hand, you watch as his Adam's apple slightly bobs as you adjust it properly. 

Sliding your hands to the silk tie you brush your fingers down the soft fabric straightening it while laying down flat against his chest. The feeling of his chest tightness under your fingertips and his breath seems to be slightly slow, you don’t know if he is hating this or being relaxed by it. 

Meeting his eyes, they are unshaded for you to observe their burgundy hue. His face is still stern looking but you know this one has that slight softness in his eyes, meaning his listening, he is waiting for you to speak again. 

“I want us to be friends, simple” 

Miguel's lips slightly part as if he was about to speak, but before he could the conference room doors opened with them calling Miguel in. Turning to you there is a look on his face you're not completely used to, but that will have to wait for now. Giving a quick pat to his chest you smile up at him. 

“You got this Miguel, good luck.” 

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter fifty four. waiting for us wc. 2k a/n. name drop!!!! ok but that being said this is a VERY heavy chapter dealing with very sensitive topics. please read through the tw and be safe. tl;dr at the end. TW!!! negligent parents, brief mention of abortion, brief mention of religion, verbal abuse, domestic abuse, violent acts, mentions of self-harm and attempted suicide also i'm not entirely sure how I should tag this, but there is a part where yn has her clothes ripped off of her without consent, but it is not in a sexual way (?) or for the purpose of doing something sexual.

You stand just outside the door of 3RACHA’s (and hyunjin’s) apartment, and your quite certain that your heart is going to pound itself straight through your chest. Perhaps there is a brief moment where you consider just running for it but you think better of it. A half empty duffel bag sits on your shoulder and there’s a ratty backpack that hangs loosely off of you. Maybe you’d find it sad that your whole life could fit into two measly bags, but you couldn’t deny that it was just easier this way. You had left nothing behind, wiping your entire existence out of that place and you would not look back.

When you finally gather the courage to knock on the door, your knuckles barely make a sound while they rap against the wood. Yet the moment your hand makes contact with the door, it’s swinging open and Felix throws himself into your embrace. You almost lose your balance but Felix makes sure you don’t fall backwards, clinging almost painfully to you.

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay since you were later than you said you’d be, but the words die on his tongue at the sight of you. There’s nothing different from you besides the bright red mark decorating your cheek.

“YN? What happened? Who hurt you?” He questions, voice going almost impossibly deeper. The thought of someone putting their hands on you fills him with anger. You actually almost don’t know what he’s talking about before remembering the parting gift your mother had given you before you left.

“Oh. This. Don’t worry about it,” You mumble, acting rather nonchalant as you attempt to get past Felix and into the apartment but he doesn’t let you get too far, grasping gently at your wrist to pull you back.

“No seriously. Who hurt you yn? What’s up with the bags?” He fires out questions, now just realizing the two bags you had with you.

“I was hoping I could stay the night. Or a few. Or forever,”

The silence between you is deafening.

“Yn” You hate (love) the way you shudder at the way he says your name in that deep tone of his.

“I might have, um, run away from home?”

“WHAT?” He yells at that effectively alerting the rest of the boys of your presence.

“Lix? Is that YN? What’s going on?” Chan’s voice filters through the apartment, getting louder the closer he gets. You finally move past Felix, leaving your bags by the door for now.

“Lixie, I’ll explain everything ok? I don’t want to have to keep repeating myself over and over again,” You beg the boy with an almost desperate lilt to your voice, giving him big puppy eyes for added ammo just in case. He sighs and let’s it go for now, letting you drag him towards the couches.

But of course, even if Felix had dropped it, the other’s wouldn’t; immediately demanding to know who hit you as soon as they see your red cheeks. As much as you appreciate their concern, the swirl of emotions you’ve been feeling for hours already has you on edge and you’re so close to snapping.

“GUYS” You raise your voice and the effect is immediate, all of them quieting down and staring back at you. “It’s ok, I promise. I barely feel it. It was the first time my mom hit me anyway,” At that they all start asking questions again, talking over each other but one glare from you shuts them up again. “Please. I’m here to explain okay? So please, let me tell you everything before you guys start asking a million questions,” You plead, tired and scared of the can of worms you were potentially about to open. But you also know how much you need this. You just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

The boys all gather onto the couch and the seats next to it, with you sat in the middle next to Felix and Jisung, one on either side of you. Both of them are close enough that you can feel their thighs pressed to yours. It helps to keep you grounded while you try to take a deep breath but it just comes out shaky. Jisung slides his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze before giving you a reassuring nod.

“I was an accident. My mom somehow managed to get pregnant even though my dad had a vasectomy after they had my brother. Despite not wanting another child, they decided to have me anyway for whatever reason. We’re not religious or anything so she could have just gotten an abortion. I’ll never know why they decided to have me.

Growing up the abuse was mostly verbal. An insult here or there, mostly reminding me I wasn’t wanted or needed. My brother of course was the worst with his words but overall it really wasn’t that bad. For the most part they ignored my existence, which was honestly fine with me. It….only got worse after I turned 16. When I got my soulmark,” Your hands are shaking in Jisung’s firm grip while Felix scoots closer for comfort, nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder. You are so thankful for them.

“Both of my parents are blanks and so is my brother. So it was only natural that I assumed that I would be a blank as well. So imagine my surprise when it turns out I have 8 soulmates,” You let out a small snort, head shaking softly.

“I’m know you’re all probably thinking that I freaked out or panicked about having so many soulmates with how I reacted when we met, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” You make brief eye contact with Jeongin who has a confused expression on his fox-like face.

“For the first time, hope bloomed in my chest. My original plan was to leave when I turned 18, as soon as I could, but I didn’t really know what I would do. I would be all alone, no soulmate and experiencing the real world for the first time. But now, I finally felt like I had a purpose. To find my soulmates. I couldn’t believe that I would have 8 soulmates. 8 people who would love me. Who would want me” your voice cracks at those last words, tears burning in your eyes. Hyunjin looks like he’s not too far behind with his own tears threatening to fall.

“Of course I had lied to my parents about my soulmark, just saying I was a blank. It was easy since they didn’t really care but I had the suspicion that my brother didn’t believe me. I used to stand in front of my mirror staring at my soulmark, tracing over your names, dreaming about what life would be like with you guys,” Felix clings a little harder to you. “It was my only solace in that prison, that one day I would be where I belonged,”

“One day my brother…he caught me looking at my mark. He-“ Your eyes close in pain as the tears run down your cheeks. You squeeze at Jisung’s hands who haven’t lefts yours yet as you take in a deep breath. “He dragged me to the living room by my hair, yelling at my parents that I was a lying whore. That I was some kind of greedy slut for having so many soulmates. He pushed me to the ground and…he- he,” You choke on your tears before you feel someone patting your cheeks dry with tissues. You look up to see Minho, his eyes soft and sad as he continues to dry the tears leaking from your eyes. The other boys that were not on the couch have abandoned their seats in favor of being closer to you. Seungmin is on the floor, stroking at your calves soothingly, while Hyunjin does the same on your other side.

“He ripped my skirt off and…he….he took a lighter and….and-“ You can’t even finish the sentence before you throw yourself in Seungmin’s embrace, sobbing into his shoulder as he holds you. The rest of the boys try to comfort you as you feel hands along your back and hair, soft soothing words being said into your ears. It takes you a few minutes to pull yourself together.

“’M sorry-“ You say with a sniffle, letting Minho clean your face as he insists on doing it himself.

“Don’t say sorry. You’ve had horrific things done to you. You are so strong,” Changbin says in a soft voice, contrasting his normally loud demeanor. His hands smooth your hair down.

You can hear the sniffles from Felix and Jisung who have starting sobbing silently, their hearts breaking for you. You let out a sigh because you’re not even done.

“After that…the abuse…got worse. It turned physical as my brother would take his anger out on me. My parents didn’t care about what he did to me. I slowly…became a shell of myself. I started turning to self harm because everything hurt so much that I needed something else to hurt so I didn’t have to think about anything else. Even though he didn’t sever our soulmark, I felt like I had let you down- that I let someone else disfigure our beautiful connection. I though about my soulmates who would probably never want someone as broken as I was. I felt so lost. So….on graduation night I-“ You tuck your head down in shame. “I swallowed a bunch of sleeping pills,”

Everyone is deadly silent but you can hear Hyunjin and Jeongin joining in on the crying. Seungmin just holds you a little tighter.

“I had texted Minghao before I went through with it. Telling him that I was so grateful for his friendship and that him and Jun were the best friends I could ever ask for. Of course that man has some freaky 8th sense or something because I don’t think it took him more than five minutes to get to my house even though he lives twenty minutes away. He was yelling at me when he barged into my bathroom but I don’t remember much after that. I passed out and woke up in the hospital. Now that I was conscious Minghao throughly chewed my ass out though. The nurses had wanted to hospitalize me actually for mental health reasons but my parents refused and said something about how it was just an accident,”

“We thought you died,” Jeongin pipes up, his eyes red rimmed with tears as he sniffles.

“Your mark went gray and we all felt this sharp pain in our chests. That night we had mourned the loss of a soulmate that we thought we’d never get to meet. The relief we felt when your mark went back to black was unmatched. We had assumed you must have had an accident or something to have triggered the mark to react,”

The rest are eerily quiet, still waiting for you to continue your story.

“After I was discharged, my father had someone managed to score himself a promotion. Something about using a sob story about how his daughter was feeling lost being in a small town and needing to explore or some other bullshit. Either way we were suddenly packing and moving to seoul, not that my opinion mattered if I wanted to go or not.

My grades in school were actually pretty good. I really didn’t have anything better to do then study so It was surprisingly easy to get into seoul uni. And well….then I met Jeongin in Biology. Slowly the rest of you followed and wormed your way into my heart,” you smile fondly at the boys around you who smile back, even with tears stained cheeks.

“I really don’t care about the thread Yunjin posted, but my brother saw it and was not happy. He informed our parents and they let me have it. I just sat there taking it when I realized that I didn’t have to put up with this shit anymore. So I kinda just got up, grabbed my stuff and left…Figured you guys wouldn’t mind if I stayed,”

“Never ever. You do realize that now that you’re here we are never letting you go. Ever again,” Changbin whispers, squeezing you a little tighter. The boys are practically cutting off your oxygen but you can hardly care, feeling the love pouring out of them. You love them. You never want to be without them ever again.

“You have been so brave, so strong. We are so proud of you. Thank you. Thank you for waiting for us,”

tl;dr ! yn's parents find out about her soulmates via her brother who found out from the thread. while they chew her out, she realizes that she doesn't has to put up with this anymore and "runs" away (but not without her mother slapping her). she goes over to their apartment to tell them her story. yn was an "accident" and even though her parents didn't want another child, they went ahead with the birth anyway. they, along with her brother never let her forget that she was unwanted. both her parents and her brother are blanks and so she had assumed she would be too - but surprise, surpise. she has 8 soulmates. yn adored her mark and was excited for the day she would get to be with them. she'd spend time staring at her mark, memorizing their names. one day her brother catches her and gets so angry that he takes a lighter and burns her mark. after that yn falls into a deep depression and turns to self-harm in order to cope. still unable to take it and feeling like she let her soulmates down, she decides to take a bunch of sleeping pills. minghao is the one who finds her and saves her. the boys mention that they thought that she had died due to the mark reacting and turning grey. they were very happy when the mark went back to black. after her attempt, her father was able to get a promotion at work and moved their family to seoul, resulting in yn finally finding her soulmates.

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[joonberriess]

𓆩♡𓆪 “wetter than umbrellas and stickier than apple pie,” — jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — fingering (brief), unprotected sex, creampies, attempted quiet sex, reader’s WAP, messy sex, squirting (mentioned), some dirty talk, possessive!jk, jealous!jk + jennie, jennie makes an appearance woooo, voyeurism on her part, she wants you, sexual tension(?), oc is a dumb puppy: confirmed

You’re just so so pretty… Jennie is utterly in love with you. How could anyone not be? You’re the sweetest thing that’s ever walked this earth; it'd be a crime to not like you. It made Jennie just want to wrap you up in a little cocoon and never let you back out, you were too good for this place (too good for Jungkook too in her humble opinion).

She’s always harbored a tiny crush on you, it never got too serious because she knew you probably didn’t swing that way anyways. There were no hard feelings between the two of you anyways which she was glad for. Jennie however was irked by Jungkook as of lately (when was she not irritated with him though?). More than usual might she say.

The thing was Jungkook had a big mouth, he was shameless and was always letting shit slip from his lips. Jennie despised him for putting images of you, her little cutie pie dummy, in the most vulgar positions known to man all because of his mouth. Up until now she hadn’t really thought about you in that way, even if the walls were a little too thin and she might have heard a thing or two.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you’d say with those cute puppy eyes of yours, “I promise I’ll keep it down!” Jennie knew you’d forget so she didn’t hold you to that.

It all started about a week ago when Jennie had met up with Jisoo and the older girl accidentally let it slip about you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe they talk about our sex lives, I did NOT need to know Jungkook eats ass for fucks sake.” Jisoo spits out in embarrassment, covering her mouth as she tries not to laugh too loudly.

Jennie’s brow quirks up, “He eats ass?” She peers over at Jisoo, “Who the fuck told you that.” She snorts.

“My boyfriend duhh, who else Jennie?” Jisoo shakes her head and rolls her eyes fondly, “He hung out with him like last week and they were talking about shit they’ve done or what they like and don’t like.”

Jennie stops listening once Jisoo starts complaining about Yugyeom spilling the beans. She looks down at the ground while they walk, zoning out and getting lost in her thoughts. Her not so holy thoughts at that.. Now she can’t stop thinking about how you’ve probably gotten your ass ate.

(It’s what you deserve of course. Jennie’s surprised her mouth waters a little at the thought.)

Since then Jennie starts noticing a lot more things she once didn’t think were sexual or shit she just flat out ignored like your unabashed nudity and silly little shows of affection with her. It makes her realize what a little minx you are, and the very painful fact that she’s attracted to you more than ever.

“Jennieeeee!” You happily whine and throw your arms around the girl, “Are you proud of me I made dinner for us.” You rub your cheek against her own and pout at her, “I didn’t forget to push down the lever on the toaster this time either!”

Jennie hesitantly slides her hands around your (soft?) hips, resting them right there as she balances herself because she’s got an arm full of you. “Really? That’s good y/n,” she squeezes your cheek and smiles. Jennie gets an eye full of tits right in her face she literally has to force her eyes away as she grimaces.

“What’s wrong?” You tilt your head, eyes full of wonder and lips still set into a small pout.

Jennie shakes her head, “Nothing, just hungry.”

“Let’s eat!”

Things get worse when Jennie comes home one night late from work, she had seen Jungkook’s car parked out in the front and she dreaded his presence already. “I’m home.” She calls out while unlocking the door, not wanting her entrance to be a surprise just in case you two were getting busy.

“Hi,” you turn your head and send her a soft smile, “you okay? I left some take out in the microwave for you.” You turn back around and lay your head back on Jungkook’s shoulder again. Jungkook’s busy still watching the movie so he waves his hand in acknowledgement.

Jennie rolls her eyes and passes by, but not before smacking the back of Jungkook’s head, “I thought I told your ass to stop parking your car so near the fucking line. I can’t even get out of my own damn car.”

“Fuck off no I didn’t,” Jungkook laughs, “you fuckin’ liar always trying to hate on me for no reason.” He says and throws a balled up napkin at Jennie who yells ‘Hey bitch!’ in surprise, “y/n tell her something, she’s being mean to me.” Jungkook buries his face in your face and leaves small kisses there.

Before Jennie can make a face of disgust you turn to her with that pretty face of yours, “Jen, I already told you that it’s not nice being a meanie. You pinky promised me you were going to be nicer.” It’s sickening how gagged you have her.

Jennie surprisingly lets it go and heads over to sit down on the opposite couch. She grumbles in annoyance and tosses a dirty look at Jungkook, who’s smug as a motherfucker right now. Her eyes lower down to your smooth pretty thighs, not a hair in sight (must have waxed..) You’re wearing a pair of pink sailor moon socks and from this angle she catches a glimpse of your panties which are completely lace..

You’re curled up on Jungkook’s side, tucked away and hidden by both his big ass and then the oversized shirt you assume belongs to him (given the lack of clothes on his ass). The collar is slightly disheveled and pulled down off to the side, exposing your hickey covered neck looking like he mauled you. Jungkook looks so nonchalant as he rubs your thigh with his hand, squeezing and gripping the soft looking flesh.

Jennie hates to admit but you two look so fucking hot together. Now she sees why people think you two make a fit couple, you make everyone else look like shit. She ends up sulking even more in her seat and decides to watch the movie instead or else she’s going to be more annoyed at him.

Half way through the movie Jennie hears you yawn softly and that’s when it’s Jungkook’s cue to move. He picks you up like nothing and starts to head out to your room. “Night Jennie.” You softly whisper, “I’ll see you tomorrow ‘kay?” You smack your lips together as you smile sleepily at her.

Jennie waves, “Night.” She decides to stick it out and watch the rest of the movie alone.

She doesn’t exactly count on falling asleep then and there, only waking up when the tv’s light blares in her face with the stupid “Still watching?” screen displayed. “Fuck what time is it?” She whispers to herself and grabs her phone, hissing at the brightness and closing her bleary eyes, “Three?” She grunts and rolls off the couch.

Jennie turns the TV off and heads down the hall to her room, blinking the blurriness in her vision away. She sees your door cracked open and makes a mental note to shut it for you after she finishes using the restroom. It’s when she’s washing her hands that she hears…it. She frowns in confusion and stops for a moment, hearing a rhythmic thudding noise against the walls.

“What the fuck..” Jennie whispers and dries off her hands, stopping for a few seconds as the sounds continue. “So I’m not trippin’.” She concludes and steps out quietly.

The noise is more clear when she steps out into the hallway and Jennie already knows what the hell you two are up to. It pisses her off more that the door is left open and now she has to fucking sneak into her room without being spotted. Just her luck honestly.

+

“Mm..mmm..” Moans slip past your lips as Jungkook’s hands hold your waist steady while fucks into your wet cunt over and over again. He’s not completely bottoming out to avoid making any unnecessary noises like your skin smacking against each other etc.

Jungkook’s eyes are settled down on your bouncing and jiggling tits, your nipples are perked up begging to be sucked on. He told you that you both needed to keep quiet but honestly it’s getting a bit harder with how good you wrap around his cock. Your cunt’s so fucking creamy dollops of slick coat his cock and form a ring around the base, which disappears everytime he slips back in to your dewy little pussy.

“Shit baby,” he grunts under his breath, “ ‘member we gotta keep quiet?” He bites down on his bottom lip and resists the urge to fuck into you harder.

You mewl softly in return and reach up to grip the pillow you’re laying on, “..trying,” you weakly huff, “just feels so good.” Your eyes are hazy and your speech comes out a little slurred, Jungkook already knows you’re about to start drooling at this point.

“Be a good girl for me.” He moans quietly and grips your chin tightly, pressing your cheeks together and making your pouty lips pucker up for him. “I know you can.” He whispers as his eyes drop down to where you’re both connected, a string of creamy slick already coats his pelvis and he curses at how much wetter you just got.

You gasp quietly and arch your back when his cock strikes your g-spot, perfectly rubbing up against it with his coordinated thrusts. You greedily roll your hips up into his and gurgle on your moans. “More,” you slur out, “wan’ more Jungkookie.”

He moans a little too loud as his hips stutter in their movements, he finds himself pressing in and rotating his hips in small circles. You’re just too fucking sexy for your own good, had his poor cock throbbing and everything. As Jungkook grinds in deeply, he listens to the sounds your cunt makes. It’s like macaroni in a pot.

“Holy fuck, you’re gonna make me cum baby.” Jungkook’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as he shudders, “Soaked lil’ pussy makin’ a mess on my cock, you gonna clean it for me?” He gasps quietly.

You nod eagerly and whimper for more, “C-Cum, cum in me.” You whisper out as your hand travels down, fingers parting in a ‘V’ right where his cock slides in and out. “P-Promise I’ve been good..!” You moan out, “Been the best girl for you.”

He loses it when your little fingers slide against his shaft everytime he backstrokes and then pushes back in. His balls ache and he fucks into you for a couple more seconds until he’s coming and filling your pussy to the brim. “Shit,” he releases a long sigh as he pants quietly and looks down, “fuckin’ hell.” Jungkook bites his lip and muffles his moan as he slowly slips his sensitive cock out of you with a wet plop.

You happily curl your legs towards you, hands coming under your thighs to hold them up so not a drop of cum is wasted. “Did good?” You sleepily ask.

“Perfect.” Jungkook licks his lips and leans up to kiss you as he trails a hand down to your slicked up pussy, fingers dipping into the mess you created down there. He intends on getting you messier, good thing you have all night long.

+

Jennie doesn’t sleep at all after that night. She remembers lying awake in bed as images flashed through her brain like a sequence. She thinks about your messy thighs and how your pussy stretched around Jungkook’s cock. Needless to say she went to bed uncomfortably hot down there and a pair of wet panties.

She doesn’t look neither you nor Jungkook in the eye the next day when she goes to get breakfast. You’re as clueless as ever but something about Jungkook’s dark eyes having this knowing look in them tells her he did that shit on purpose. She chooses to ignore it and continue like nothing happened. Maybe it was time she took Lisa up on that offer on being fuck buddies.

A couple of days later Jungkook breaks the ice between them two. Jennie had been home early from classes when a knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts. She opened up and came face to face with Jungkook, “What do you want?” She deadpans, even though her actions say another thing as she steps to the side for him to enter.

“If you’re here for y/n she ain’t here, though I’m sure you don’t need my help in finding her since you’re always with her and shit.” Jennie waves her hand as she walks off without looking back at him, “Don’t fuckin’ make a mess or touch my shit.” She fully intends to go to her room but Jungkook calls out to her.

“Enjoyed the show last week?” Jungkook calmly replies.

Jennie stops in her tracks, “What show? You mean the movie we watched together?” She turns around and eyes him in distaste.

“You know what I’m talking about you little pervert.” Jungkook smirks, “I’m not fucking blind to the way you’ve been looking at my girl, and it’s not like I didn’t hear you go into the bathroom and just never go to your room after that.”

Her face heats up in embarrassment as she glares at Jungkook, “Fuck off Jungkook.”

“No really, did you enjoy watching her squirt all over my fingers and soaking the bed sheets? I bet you really wanted a taste of her creamy lil’ pussy. Bet you thought about how tight she’d feel around your fingers, makes you wanna have a taste for yourself don’t it?” He grins.

Jennie’s mind screams yes and for a second she nearly gives in and confesses. However, she’s just as prideful as she is horny, “The day I fuck her Jeon is the day you’ll be wishing you never spoke about it. Because just like that she’ll be playing for both teams when I’m through with her.” She watches his face fall and turn into something more serious, like he’s feeling threatened, “They always wanna come but they never wanna leave.” She winks and heads into her room.

.

“J-Jungkook..!” You cry out, voice high pitched and breathy as an even louder squelching noise resonates in the background.

He’s got his fingers knuckle deep inside of your slicked up pussy, thrusting them in and out at a mad pace. It’s so quick that your squirting out bits of slick whilst he fucks you with his fingers. Jungkook’s hell bent on getting you to cum for him, he looks pissed off and you can’t help but wonder why.

“Mmmm..!” You squeal out and shake under him, “S-Slow down Jungkookie,” you whimper out, “ ‘s too much!”

Jungkook does the complete opposite of what you asked and only speeds up, “Pussy’s all mine isn’t it baby? Say it for me, whose pussy is this?” He curls his fingers and searches for your g-spot, intending to abuse it.

You throw your head back and scramble to grip his wrist tightly, “Yours! It’s yours,” you sob out, “p-please..!” You feel tears well up in your eyes, “Jungkookie!”

“That’s right, all fuckin’ mine baby,” he growls and leans down to bury his face in your thighs, “all mine.” He repeats and takes your throbbing clit into his mouth.

You literally die and go to heaven. (And Jennie sits smug in her room because she’s the reason for your passing.)

TAGLIST: TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 3) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part two | part four

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, cheating, underage (mentions they have sex, but nothing explict, toji and reader are high school freshmen), mentioned eating disorder (not really a disorder, reader just forgets to eat, tag is just in case), mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 3.4k

You had met Toji in your first year of high school at some house party. Some sophomore that Utahime knew was throwing it, giving the two of you an in. 

You and Utahime had been dancing on the dude’s couch, bottles in hand. You had never really drank before, but you made sure to keep yourself aware enough to get the two of you home by the end of the night. Your house was a fifteen minute walk from here, and your plan was to sneak the two of you through your window before three. 

That’s when you saw him. He was leaning against the wall talking to some girl. Just by his looks, you thought he might have been a couple years above you. He was tall, taller than most guys in the house, and definitely more muscular. You were immediately attracted, Utahime giggled at you once she saw where you were looking. “You should go talk to him!” She slurred, still moving to the sound of the music with you. 

“Seems like he’s got his hands busy.” You whisper-yelled over the music. He had them all over that girl.

“Utahime!” You heard from below the two of you. Hakari, the guy whose house this was (and your future coworker), held on to her hand as she almost stumbled over to look down at him. “We’re gonna play seven minutes in heaven! Y’all wanna come?” 

“That’s fucking corny!” Utahime giggled, “Let’s go, Y/N!” The two of you followed in a straight line behind Hakari to a relatively empty, but still extremely loud hallway. You all sat down in a circle with a group of students you didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, you guys weren’t gonna start the fun without us, right?” You hear from behind you. It’s the guy from earlier. He pushes his hair (you think it's black, but can’t tell from the lighting) back and takes a swig of a beer bottle. The girl from earlier is with him, along with another guy you didn’t recognize. 

“Toji, let us use that bottle. Hakari broke the other one!” One guy yells over the music. “Thought this was seven minutes in heaven,” A girl with stark white hair begins, “You don’t need a bottle for that game.” 

“Too much work to write everyone’s names down, there’s a bunch of freshmen here. I don’t know them.” Hakari responds. 

“Scoot over!” The tall guy, Toji, yells at you over the music, and you do. Allowing his group of three to squeeze in next to you. Utahime giggles and leans over your lap to address him. “Hey!” She yells, almost falling over your lap. “What’s your name? My friend Y/N-”

“I’ll go first!” you yell, hoping to silence her before she can say anything embarrassing.

“Wheeeew look at the brave young freshman!” Hakari yells. “Hey, what’s your name again?” You ignore him and spin the bottle. 'Damn,' you think, 'I’m actually going to have to go into a closet with someone after this.' You just wanted to interrupt Utahime. 

It lands on some guy you don't recognize.

“Wee woo wee woo!” Hakari yells, mocking a police siren. “New rule, freshman and senior pairings will not be allowed! Go again!” he yells at you. The group bursts out laughing as you grab the bottle to spin again. 

The bottle spins and spins until it lands on… the girl that Toji was making out with earlier. She makes a face and looks at you. “I’m not into girls, sorry!” She yells. 

“I am!” Utahime announces to the group. 

“What the hell, Takako, you have such a dirty mind!” Hakari says. You can feel Toji eyeing you. It’s slightly unsettling. “Seven minutes in heaven does not imply romantic or sexual advances!” 

She scoffs, “Then why didn’t you let her go in there with Kenjaku?” You’re doing everything you can to avoid Toji’s gaze. Seriously, what was this dude’s problem? Was there something on your face? Did your makeup come off to reveal the big ass pimple on your cheek? Shit, you knew you should’ve used more setting spray.

“Because it’s my duty to protect the young women attending my party, Takako! Better safe than sorry.” 

Suddenly, you see a hand go down to the bottle and tilt it slightly. It’s Toji, and he’s pointed the bottle directly at himself. “Well, would you look at that! Seems like the bottle has mysteriously landed on me and not Takako!” He yells over the music. 

You take this time to finally look him in the face. From this close, you notice the scar on the side of his lip, his piercing green eyes. 

“But…” you say, confused, “they said no seniors and freshmen.” 

The group bursts into laughter. “Don’t know if I should be offended or not.” He says. 

“He’s in our year, Y/N!” Utahime exclaims, “He’s in my algebra class, I couldn’t remember his name though…” 

“Wait, this isn’t how it works!” Takako says, panicked. Now that you’ve already looked at Toji, you can see her arm locked into his, she’s yelling into the group’s circle. 

“The bottle lands where it lands!” Toji says, throwing his arms up. “Come on, mama,” he starts, untangling from Takako. “We got seven minutes.”

He grabs your arm and leads you to the hall closet. You can hear whoops and whistles from behind you, but you don’t know if it’s from your small group or from the rest of the party goers. 

He turns the light on, and the two of you push back winter coats to make room in the closet. He closes the door behind the two of you. For a moment he’s quiet. He just looks at you. “You’re really pretty.” He says, leaning against the door, a little too cockily for a high school freshman. 

“Thanks.” You say quietly. It’s a little less loud in the closet, music muffled by the bundle of winter coats. “Is um.. Is Takako your girlfriend or something?”

He laughs, “Why do you ask?” 

“Because it’s pretty fucked up if you took me in here with her sitting right out there.” 

He smiles. “Nah.” He says, leaning closer to you. “She’s not.” 

You can feel his breath on your face, and smell his cologne from here. It’s a little strong, you can smell the beer in his breath too. “She’s into you though,” you say. He leans closer and you put your hand gently on his chest. Your lips are millimeters apart. “That was kinda mean,” He laughs again. “To be really, really honest, I don’t give a fuck about her.” 

“That's really mean.” You respond, and suddenly your lips are on each other. This isn’t your first kiss, but Toji makes it feel like it is. You two grasp onto each other desperately, hold onto each other like you’ve known each other for years, like he’s a long lost love. 

It doesn’t escalate from there, you two just kiss and kiss and kiss. 

You don’t notice how long it’s been until you hear a knock on the door. Toji pulls away from your face and rests his forehead on yours. “Damn.” He says, licking his lips. 

That night, Toji had offered to drive you and Utahime home. You had spent the last couple hours at the party together, you continued drinking while Toji refrained, wanting to drive you home. 

He had helped you sneak Utahime into your bedroom. In your time spent with Toji, you hadn’t noticed her drinking more and more, so by the time you got her into Toji’s car, she was passed out cold. 

You had held Utahime in your arms as Toji climbed into your window and pulled her through. You climbed in after. 

“Thank you so much.” You said to him as the two of you lay her in your bed. “You’re seriously a life saver.” 

“It’s no problem, anything for a pretty lady like you.” You rolled your eyes. 

He climbed back out your window, turning around to face you one more time before you left. You lent onto your window sill and smiled at him. “I’ll see you on Monday?” you asked. He smiled back. “I’ll see you then.” He lent up and kissed you on the lips once more before turning back around and walking to his truck. 

You did see him on Monday. And almost every Monday after. 

You and Toji became incredibly close incredibly fast. Toji clung to you for affection, you clung to him for attention. You sat together at lunch everyday. He’d buy you Cokes from the overpriced vending machine and you’d invite him into your bedroom everytime it got to be too much at home. You guys never officially started dating, it just seemed like it happened overnight. 

He never came over during the day. You were too nervous to tell your mother and he was too nervous to meet her. 

She didn’t know you even had a boyfriend until Toji cheated on you. Not the best introduction. You were working late at the diner, you often did on weekends to speed up the process of your college fund. It was Shoko who had told you. 

She, Geto, and Gojo had come to the diner after leaving a party. They were all clearly a little tipsy, so one of the older servers had passed them off onto you. “I’m not dealing with definitely-not-drunk teenagers at this time of night. I’m ready to go home.” 

“Oh my god! I know you! You’re Y/N! We’re in the same government class!” Geto slurred. You smiled at him. “How are you guys doing? You go to Hakari’s party?” You asked.

“Yeah! It was really fun, but Gojo’s curfew is at one so we gotta get him sobered up.” Geto supplied.

“Hey, Y/N, are you still with Toji? I see you too together alllllll the time at school.” Gojo slurred. You laughed. “Kind of.” You and Toji had gotten into an argument that afternoon. Toji was going to that same party, and you, having to work, couldn’t go with. Somehow, it turned into an argument about who does more for who. You weren’t broken up, and you weren’t on a break, but you were both certainly angry with each other. 

“Ohhhh what the fuck?” Gojo said, looking wide-eyed at his friends. They all looked between each other, clearly confused and talking to each other through their facial expressions. 

“Uhh, Y/N, can you just get us some waters, and can you get Gojo like an omelet or some shit?” Shoko says. “Uhh yeah! Of course!” 

“No mushrooms!” Gojo shouts as you walk away. You turn and give him a thumbs up. 

That whole night, you could feel the tension from the table. Like they all felt bad for you. Like they pitied you. After they paid the bill and Geto and Gojo walked out, Shoko called you over. “Hey, Y/N, you almost done working?” She asked. 

“Yeah, you guys were my last table for tonight. What’s up?” 

“Look,” she says, “I don’t know what’s up with you and Toji, it’s not my business, but I think you should probably know he and Takako were all over each other at Hakari’s tonight.” She looked into your eyes to gauge a reaction. 

Your heart had dropped. You could feel your fingertips tingling like you had lost all the blood in them. They felt lighter than the rest of your body. “Oh, uh, yeah it's not a big deal.” You say. You start to wring your hands on your waist apron. “Thanks for letting me know, though.” You attempt a smile at her. She looks at you with pity and concern, until you can almost visibly see her say ‘fuck it’ in her head. She leans in and gives you a hug. 

You vowed it not to be true, but Shoko had no reason to lie to you. Gojo and Geto had no reason to act so strange when you mentioned you’re still with Toji. Shoko bringing up Takako was not a coincidence. 

You squeeze her back and you can feel your breathing picking up. “T-Thank, um, Thank you.” you say. 

You didn’t call him when your shift was over for him to pick you up as usual, instead opting to take the bus route. You got home that night, thankful to see that your mother had already gone to sleep. You ignored the food she left for you in the fridge and went straight to the shower.

You didn’t cry until you got into bed, when you could smell his cologne on your pillow. You stayed like that for hours. Curled up, silently sobbing, until you heard a light knocking on your window. You knew who it was. The only person it could be, 

“Y/N?” He whispered through the window. He sounded panicked. You could hear the pane slide up and him climb in. 

“Oh, shit, thank god.” He whispered, climbing into your bed. His voice was shaking. “Hey, you awake, mama?”

You turned around to face him. “You had me scared, baby.” He said, moving your hair out of your face. “You never called after your shift. Just ‘cause you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I won’t come get you.”

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Huh?” 

“You. Fucked. Her. Didn’t. You?” 

His hand froze on your cheek. 

You sat up in your bed. “You fucked her, and then you wanted to come and see me after?” You asked, voice rising with each word. 

“Hey-”

“What?” You ask. You’re fully yelling now. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N, stop yelling.” He warns. He stands up from the bed. You stand up and get in his face.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Toji!” You pushed his chest. He didn’t move an inch. “You don’t get to come in here, acting like you’re all worried about me! Acting like you give a fuck!” You were full on sobbing by now.

“Y/N-”

“What the hell is going on in here?” You hear your door swing open and whip around to see your mother standing at the door with a baseball bat in hand. 

Shit.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house? Get the hell out of here!” 

Toji books it out the window, looking at you one last time before leaving. 

“What the hell are you thinking, Y/N? You have a boy in here?” She yells at you. “You’re too young for this! Doing this under my roof, are you insane?” 

You just stand there staring at the floor. “Mom?” You ask, voice cracking. She sets the bat down by your door and rushes to your side. “Did he hurt you? Y/N? What did he do?” You cling onto the back of her shirt and cry into her neck. “Mom-” Is all you can get out before you’re violently shaking and you can feel your knees give out. 

It’s a week later when you see Toji again. Your mother had let you stay home from school for a day, and when you got back, Toji was nowhere to be found. 

Word got around school quickly. If it hadn’t been Shoko who told you, It could’ve been ten other people. Utahime and Saori, another girl you befriended, became your lunch buddies, taking Toji��s place. 

You didn’t want to seem as hurt as you felt, not with Takako grinning at you in the halls every time she saw you. 

He was at your window that night. You didn’t have work, and had taken the free time to catch up on some assignment you had missed. You heard a knock on your window and immediately tensed. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself when you heard the pane slide up. 

You hadn’t even thought about locking your window. Didn’t expect Toji to want anything to do with you. 

“I saw the light on." He explained, like it gave him the right to come in, "Can we talk?” He whispered, “and can you not yell?” You didn’t look up at him. He towered over you from where you sat at your desk. “Can’t promise you anything.” You said. You pretended to work on an algebra problem, but you couldn’t focus with him in the room. 

“Come with me to my truck then.” He pleads. You tap your pencil on the wooden desk and turn your head to look up at him. He looks a mess. Hair mussed like he hadn’t brushed it in days, clothes rumpled and stained. His right eye sports a fading black ring around it. 

You bite your lip. You refuse to show any concern, but you're too curious. You point your pencil at his eye, “What happened there?” He stares at you for a second.

“Can you come or not?” He asks. This would be a common occurrence throughout the rest of your relationship. Toji showing up with a new bruise and brushing you off when you question it.

“Can you answer my question?” You taunt back. 

“Please, Y/N.” 

You sigh and throw your pencil down on the desk. “I’m doing homework, Toji.” You respond. 

“Please.” He begs. 

You know you shouldn’t. You and your mother had had a lengthy conversation just this morning. “You need to stay away from boys like him.” she said as she moved around the kitchen to prepare you breakfast. This hadn’t been a common occurrence until she noticed you had stopped eating. It wasn’t intentional, you just didn’t have the energy for it anymore. “They don’t do anything but lead you down a path you don’t want to go down, Y/N.” She says, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of you. “He’s showing you who he is right now. Believe him.” 

You contemplated it. You knew, deep down, that you shouldn’t. Knew you should’ve called for your mom the second he tapped on your window. But you didn’t. 

“Okay.” 

The two of you crawled out of your window and walked a few houses down to Toji’s truck, parked in an abandoned parking lot. The two of you hop in at the same time. You had suddenly wished you grabbed your coat. It wasn’t necessarily cold, you just wanted something to comfort you. 

“I fucked up.” There it is. His voice, even if he’s saying something incredibly delusional and ridiculous, that is your comfort. He turns in his seat to face you. You do the same, your foot coming up to rest in the seat. 

“I really, really fucked up.” 

“So what’s your excuse?” You ask. You know it’s a bit hurtful. That was a little intentional.

“I just.. I don’t have one.” 

You think about that for a second. “Sooo…” you begin with a laugh, suddenly ten times more bitter than before. “You had sex with another girl… just because?” You ask.

He has nothing to say to that. 

“What am I to you, Toji?” 

He looks at you for a second like he’s pondering. Trying to put it into words, or maybe trying to come up with something. You didn’t know. 

“Everything.” He says, finally.

You smile. It’s a nasty, bitter smile. “That so?” You ask. “I’d hate to see how you treat someone you hate. Gotta be pretty bad.”

“Baby..”

“I’m sorry if I’m misunderstanding you here.” You say, you put your foot back onto the floor of his truck. “You brought me out here, interrupted me, mind you, to what? Tell me that you cheated on me because you felt like it?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. You get out of the car. Not waiting for a response. You slam the door, briskly walking back home. 

“Y/N! Come the fuck on!” You can hear him slamming the door and following you. “Don’t walk out here by yourself.” He’s being dramatic. Your house is literally within your field of vision. You can hear his feet rushing to catch up to you. You turn around and point your finger at his chest. “Leave me the fuck alone.” You say with as much conviction as you can muster. 

He does. 

When you get back home, you realize you had left your phone on your desk next to your abandoned algebra homework. You have a message from Utahime waiting for you. When you open your flip phone up, you read

hime <3: wanna go 2 hakari’s w me this fri?

Suddenly you have an idea. Make him hurt like you did. Maybe a little worse, if he cared about you at all, that is. Deep down you knew he did. Even if only a little. 

you: ofc :)

longer chapter for tonight! i'm having fun writing this! thank you for the support!

i changed the name to decode because i was listening to it while writing this chapter and it was a little bit too perfect. everybody say thank you hayley williams.

other songs i listened to while writing include

breaking benjamin - diary of jane

foo fighters - everlong

bts (suga) - trivia: seesaw

paramore - all i wanted

i feel like im on drugs rn

tag list, comment to be added

@mechalily @nialiuwanderlust @xo-evangeline @ilovebattinson @cherrypieyourface @amaiyasha @erensslut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again. 

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[loverofstufflof]

Black Myth: Wukong rant because I’m just… so tired of you people.

I hate the community this game has cultivated. I hate looking through the tags and seeing people tearing each other apart over a game based on a story I love.

There’s two stances:

Those who say that merely interacting with the game is in support of all the terrible things the developers have (allegedly) done. Who parade accusations that many have stated were mistranslated and that the situation is far more complicated than it appears.

Those who mock the former by making a straw man of their concerns while simultaneously displaying their misogyny, racism, homophobia, and general traits that make it clear they’ve never touched a woman in their life.

One is slightly more tolerable than the other. Neither make me feel welcome in enjoying this project I’ve been looking forward to for years.

I will be talking more about purple, because I don’t speak Chinese, and feel that I have no authority speaking too much on orange.

Purple people are beyond insufferable.

I think that most of this came from a Screen Rant review that listed one of the game’s flaws as “a lack of diversity.” This is an accurate analysis, and has been warped beyond belief.

I can understand the outrage… a bit. When playing a game surrounding Chinese culture, in which you play as an inhuman character fighting equally inhuman enemies, it doesn’t make too much sense to request racial representation. And when there isn’t any romance, representation for sexual orientations also wouldn’t work. Including anything in those merit would feel forced and out of place, I agree.

But you wanna know what the reviewer wrote?

She was concerned about the lack of women.

She felt unwelcome when playing a game made by rumoured misogynists because there were no women at all.

And she explicitly said that the game was still enjoyable despite this.

She gave it such a “low score” (3/5) because of the performance issues and repetitiveness. By her own rating, the game was listed as “Worth a shot despite its flaws.”

Everything got so bad they had to take down her name for her safety.

People in the purple category took this review to mean that the “woke left” was “pushing an agenda” and “trying to cancel this game for not having pansexual nonbinary black people.” Which, as I’m sure you can now understand, was not the case. The boycott surrounding this game is purely based on accusations targeted towards the developers, not the game’s content.

Of course, I don’t expect many of the aforementioned people in this category to care too much. I’ve seen the Steam reviews where they praise the lack of women. I’ve read the Reddit threads where they feel grateful that there’s “finally a company who understands the male authority.” I’ve scrolled through post after post on Tumblr that “no one would want to play a game where females jiggle their tits around while doing nothing.”

That last one gets me. It’s really telling what you can learn about a person when they say things like that.

The point is, these people make me feel very unwelcome in a community that previously made me most comfortable.

So let’s recap:

The people who I would find community with are portraying the mere interest in this game as a sin that’s worthy of being blocked and shamed over, and the people who are actually in this community remind me why I’m terrified to walk alone.

I have a lot more that I want to say on this, but I don’t really have the words quite yet, and still need to do a fair amount of research (which I probably won’t be doing because holy shit I’m so done with this). Maybe I’ll come back and add some more, but for now I just might block the tag entirely.

I just feel shitty ‘s’all ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Red Summer | Ghoap x F!Reader | Slasher!AU

After breaking up with your long term boyfriend you take a job working as a camp counselor in Northern Vermont. Seven weeks of swimming, volleyball, archery and hiking. There's even a hot lifeguard. It seems perfect until you find something evil is lurking in the woods

Tags: Slasher AU, Ghoap x Reader, intro chapter, nondescript reader, dark fic

cw: vaginal sex, oral sex, dub vouyerism, gore

Chapter 2: Time After Time

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You had never had a nightmare like that before. Something so vivid and horrific. You kept running your hands over your stomach, expecting to feel an open wound or even a scar. It was nothing but smooth flesh with splatterings of freckles and stretch marks.  

You walked shaky legged into the bathroom, stripping down and stepping into the cold water. It all felt so real. You kept pinching your arms, thighs and stomach - making sure you’re real. That you’re not dead. That your insides are still on the inside. 

You heard your name being called in the main room. You shut off the water and wrapped yourself in the old fraying towel you brought. You grabbed a particularly heavy shampoo bottle to use as a weapon just in case. 

“There you are,” Johnny smiled with relief when you poked your head out of the bathroom. “Missed ya at breakfast… what’s wrong?”

He was alive. He was alive and standing in front of you. No blood on his hands or fear in his eyes. 

“I just had a really… really fucked up dream last night.” Your voice croaked. 

“Oh Bonnie. You’re okay. It was only a dream.” He opened his arms to you and despite not knowing him and being practically naked you accepted. He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne. “First day anxieties, yeah?” 

You nodded softly, choking back tears. It was just a dream and you were so fucked up by it. Your face heated up at how pathetic you were being. 

“You get dressed and I’ll grab you something to eat, okay?” He patted your back. At least you hadn’t dreamt up how caring he was. He made sure the door was shut before heading out. 

You went to grab your STAFF shirt and recoiled, remembering it was what you wore in your dream. You grabbed a different top and pulled on some old jean shorts. 

“It’s not high protein but I got ya instant oatmeal and a banana.” Johnny called through the door. “You decent?” 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

It was the kind with dinosaur eggs in it. You mixed it about till the eggs melted to reveal brightly colored sugared dinos. 

“We have orientation to do.” You said softly, eating another spoon full. 

“I told Warren we’d be a wee bit late. Said you found a snake in your cabin and needed me to rescue you.” He chuckled, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly. 

“You want ta talk about it?”

“Huh?”

“Yer dream? What got ya so freaked out.”

“Oh… uh… it was like a movie. Just some man was going around killing people. He was wearing this skull mask and he…uh… he stabbed me.”

“Might have watched too many movies before getting here.” He rubbed your shoulder. “I promise if a masked killer comes running around I’ll keep ya safe.”

He waited with you until you finished eating. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him bite at his nails. Any time you looked at him he’d give you a soft smile that didn’t quite match the anxiety in his eyes. 

You made the motions to get through the afternoon, unable to shake the unease of deja vu. Sophia kept trying to open you up with jokes and little nudges and looks as the boys bonded. 

Every time Sophia or Warren explained something you thought “I know this already” which only made the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You felt calm once the four of you reached the lake. They were talking while you walked down the dock. The air felt cooler the further out you went.

You took off your shoes and socks and sat down to stick your feet in the water. 

There’d been a lake in your home town and during the warm months you used to ride your bike down to sit at the beach. It was more dirt than sand but that just meant it attracted less people. On the other side was the nice beach with lifeguards and playgrounds and paid entry. On your side  it was just you and the occasional fisherman. It was peaceful there and now with your feet in the water you felt that peace again. 

“Yer gonna get burnt.” You jumped at Johnny’s voice. He was standing a little ways behind you, bottle of sunscreen in hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

He sat down next to you. His shoes and socks sat next to yours. You took the bottle and began reapplying to your arms. 

“You still freaked about that dream?”

“A little. It just felt so real… and I don’t know. Maybe I am just paranoid. I never really did camp when I was younger.”

“Sleeping somewhere new can always mess with ya head a bit. When I was in the army you slept when and where ya could. Never really felt rested.”

“Do you get nightmares?... I’m sorry that was stupid to ask. You don’t have to-” Your face felt hot. 

“I do. Sometimes. Took this job to get out of my head a bit.”

“Is it working?”

“No,” he laughed. “But there’s a whole summer left.”

“That is true.”

You laid back on the dock, letting the water lap against your shins. 

The two of you missed lunch but made it back for the rest of the day's schedule. The afternoon passed over easily. You tried to stay out of your own head but Deja vu kept tying knot after knot around your brain.

There were blisters on the back of your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you applied band-aids for seemingly the second time.

You had minimal service but enough to get out a short text to Ale.

‘At camp. I might not be able to talk to you for a while but when I’m back I hope we can talk.’

It felt a little pathetic. He broke up with you essentially. ‘A break’ is what he called it. He was leaving for the Summer too soon enough. Helping out his childhood friend Rudy at his ranch down in Mexico. He originally wanted you to come with him. See where he grew up, meet his family and friends. You thought maybe there was a ring hidden among all those plans. You guessed you were wrong. 

You missed Johnny as you walked up to the dining hall for dinner. You didn’t really feel like talking but it was nice to be talked to sometimes. He was already seated with another girl. You felt a little twinge of jealousy. He’d spent most of the morning attached to your hip but it seems you were already forgotten. 

The unease of the day made you decline any invites to drink or sit by the fire. 

“I think I'm just gonna walk for a little bit. Just get some air before going to bed.

“I can come with you,” Nat offered.

“I think I’ll be okay. I’ll bring a flashlight. I’ll probably just go around the soccer fields and back.” There were a couple light posts out around the area. Not super bright but enough to find your way back.

It seemed to be tempting fate to go out alone. It also seemed to be the only way to knock this anxiety out of your head. Life wasn’t a movie. Masked killers were only in movies. If this was a movie you’d be in Mexico planning out an outfit to get engaged in. You were in Vermont as far away from Mexico as your credit card could take you. 

You did a lap around the soccer fields and you survived. 

You did another one just for good measure and you survived again.

You thought about doing a third but it was dark and your feet ached and you only wished to tempt fate so much. 

You could hear people yelling as you walked back to the cabins. Your arms and legs prickled. You weren’t close enough to tell if it was laughing or not. You turned off your flashlight anyway. You stepped off the path and walked on the grass to quiet your footsteps just in case.

Running footsteps came past you, the runner breathing squeakily as they disappeared into the dark. They were trying to be as quiet as they could, an animal running from a predator. Something out of a nature documentary when the herd scattered as the lion went for the weak. 

You crouched down as you made your way closer, keeping out of the light. Your flashlight was heavy; it could be a weapon if needed. Ale, had taught you how to punch before. 

This was a poor way to find out you were possibly psychic. You should have let Nat come with you. You hoped she and the other girls got away. Maybe you could find Johnny again. If he really did have a gun, you wouldn’t even need the keys. The flashlight could break the window of his car. He was trained for this. If you found Johnny you might survive.

The fire in the center of the cabins was still going, still bright enough to illuminate the carnage. Three bodies laid around with trails of blood leading in all directions. None of them looked like Johnny. 

You crept along the back of the cabins towards Johnny’s. There was a scream in the distance and your stomach flipped. You peaked around the corner. No one.

You winced as the door creaked open, checking around you once again for any signs of life. If Johnny wasn’t here maybe you could still find his keys. You didn’t know which car was his. But keys could fix that. Keys got the car which got you the gun. Simple. The parking lot was about half a mile away. You could sprint there. All those leg days at the gym with Alejandro would pay off. 

He had a backpack on the floor. Old paperbacks, sketchbook, pencil pouch, lighter, a pack of cigarettes, condoms, a folding knife (you put it in your pocket), a thong (jesus christ Johnny), and finally the car keys. 

The floor creaked behind you. You flipped on your heels, getting the knife out much faster than you expected to.

“Shhh, bonnie. It’s me. It’s me.” Johnny hushed, crouching down to show his face in the light. He was covered in blood. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“You’re hurt…”

“Not mine. Was helping Nat out a window and… he got her.” You bit back a cry. She could have been with you right now. Johnny beckoned you over. “Let’s go. We can make it to the lake.”

“No.” You shook your head. “The gun in your car. I have your keys.”

“What gun?” He frowned, “I don’t have a gun.”

Idiot!

“It was my dream,” you bit back another sob. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You have my keys? We can go but we have to go now.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet. “Don’t stop running.”

The two of you took off towards the parking lot. He was faster, more agile. You tripped over rocks and your feet were on fire. You heard larger footsteps running behind you. Your heart beat matched your steps. Just keep running. Don’t stop.

Johnny ducked down ahead of you. You weren’t sure why until it hit you. A razor thin wire cut across your throat, having been tied across the path. How did he see it? You hit the ground hard, throat open and gushing. You gasped as blood filled your lungs. It’d cut deep.

A pair of boots stopped one on each side of your head. You glanced up. The skull faced man from your dream. You couldn’t even whimper before an ax came swinging down to split your face in two. 

You screamed, rolling out of bed and thrashing about in your sleeping bag. Sophia came running in from the bathroom. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, helping you up. You couldn’t breathe. Hyperventilating hard, your legs couldn’t even hold you up anymore. Sophia had to drop you onto the bed. You couldn’t form words just open and close your mouth like a fish as you struggled to get enough air. Your body felt tight and disconnected from the rest of the world at the same time. “I’m gonna get help, okay?”

You heard her run off, your eyes glued to the old wooden ceiling. You could still feel it, the wire across your throat. The way your skull split open. 

More footsteps. A hand wrapped around yours.

“Hey, bon. It’s Johnny. I’m right here. Sophia, can you get her water? Thank you.” The door opened and closed again. Johnny climbed up on the bed beside you and helped you sit up, shouldering your body weight on his side. “Try to match my breathing. In…out…in…out. There ya go.”

You followed, your shoulders relaxing as more air traveled through your lungs.

“Good girl. That’s it. Just keep breathing like that. Try squeezing my hand as you breathe, focus on that. Yeah, that’s it. Good job.” His hand was real, it was here, it was wrapped around yours. You smelled his cheap cologne, felt the heat of his skin against yours. He held some little white disc up to your mouth. “You like mint? Just suck on it. Always helps me.”

You opened your mouth and he laid the mint on the edge of your lip, holding his hand out in case it fell. It was peppermint, reminded you of Christmas and toothpaste. 

As your heart calmed, your embarrassment flared up.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Nothing to be sorry for, bonnie. I know what a panic attack is.” He rubbed your back. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like I’m having dreams within dreams.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today’s sunday?”

“It is.”

“In my dream it was sunday but in my dream i’d woken up from another dream where it was Sunday. And…and each time there was this man and he…he killed me.”

“Steamin Jesus.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “That’s awful. I get why you’re so freaked.”

“I’ve never had anything like this happen before. It just felt so real. And you were there. Both times we were trying to escape and he got me. It sounds like a fucking movie or something but he got me. He wears this skull mask and he has an ax or a machete. Everyone was dead.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t work yourself up again. S’just a dream.” He took a deep breath at the end. “S’just a dream.”

Sophia let you spend most of the day inside your cabin with Johnny. 

“Just try to relax. Anything you missed, we can go over later. I promise it’s not that big of a deal.” She squeezed your shoulder. She was kind enough to bring you breakfast. Dinosaur oatmeal, coffee in a styrofoam cup and a couple granola bars. “There’s better service in the parking lot if you want to call anyone.”

She meant Ale. He’d pick you up if you asked. Drive all day, you could spend that night in your old apartment. Despite everything you knew he still cared about you. How many years had you two been together again? It seemed like it would be forever. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” You smiled up at Sophia.

“Just holler if you need anything.” She took a quick glance at Johnny and then back to you, her voice getting quiet “or if you want to be alone.”

You turned away from her like it would stop your face from getting hot.

It was nice of Johnny to stay with you.

“Don’t want you to feel like yer alone,” he’d said. He was laying down on one of the camper’s bunks, flipping absentmindedly through one of the books you’d brought with you. He didn’t seem to actually be reading it. You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was elsewhere, like he was staring at the white spaces between the words rather than the words themselves.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” You offered. He perked up like a dog.

“With you? Absolutely.”

The two of you walked down towards the lake. You already knew the way. You weren’t sure how it happened but you were holding his hand the whole way there. The underpass was as wet and mildewy as it was in your dreams. You held on tighter to him.

You nudged him as you walked towards the dock.

“Race you.” You said, starting off towards the water.

“Ya cheated!” He called, laughing. 

There was something about the sound of running on a wooden dock that took you back to your childhood. Running with childhood friends to fly off the edge into the water. 

You ran till there was nothing under your feet, briefly gliding through the air until you hit the water, letting it engulf you till your toes touched the soft muddy sand at the bottom. Johnny landed next to you.

“You had a head start.” He laughed, splashing water at you. “Cheeky girl.”

“Figured I need it, considering your ex-military.” You splashed back, your handmade tidal wave coasting over his shoulders.

“C’mere.” He grinned, reaching for you under the water. He was a strong swimmer, diving beneath the water to pull at your ankles. You splashed him whenever he came back up for air, trying to make your way back to the shore, fighting against his attempts to pull you into deeper waters.

You liked water but hated sand. The way it stuck in every crevice and dried out your skin. It was only worse when you were wearing real clothes instead of a bathing suit. You didn’t mind it as much as you thought you did with Johnny rolling around in it with you.

He was straddling your hips, your hands locked together pushing against each other in a mock struggle. His wet shirt clung to his muscular chest and arms. The sunlight glimmered off the water droplets that fell from his mohawk. 

You let him push your hands to the beach on either side of your head. He was handsome, really handsome. And nice which was always a plus. The accent was also very hot. You always liked a man with an accent. 

You leaned up and kissed him. Short and sweet, really a peck more than a kiss. He tasted like lake water but what were you expecting? He kissed you back. It was hungry and passionate. You missed being kissed like this. His tongue swiping along your bottom lip till you parted your lips. 

He held your neck, keeping you close to him. His tongue in your mouth, his other hand moving to grip your waist. 

“There’s a hose round the back of the shed, if you want to clean up.” He had a wicked glint in his eye as he said that. 

“You’re sure no one will find us.” You asked, as he pressed you up against the back of the shed. 

“Promise. Just you and me.” He mouthed at your neck. 

You were slow to peel off your wet clothes. He didn’t rush, leaning against the wooden wall, his own shirt already stripped off. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing sexy.” You said, struggling to get your sports bra off. 

“You are very sexy,” he said hoarsely. He looked at you for permission before slipping his fingers under the elastic band of your bra and pulling it up and over your head. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Getting shy on me now?”

“I haven’t been with anyone except my ex in a long time.”

“We don’t have to do this. I’ll walk away if you-”

“I want to. I’m just…I think I might have forgotten how to do this.”

“We can be slow. I don’t think anyone will come looking for us. It’s lunch time anyways.”

You let him lead. Let him kiss down your neck and collarbone down to your chest. Let him take one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head hitting back against the wall as he pinched your other nipple. 

You could see his hard length pressing up against his shorts. It was big and made your breath hitch. How far would you let this go? You had no idea when the next time you could get laid would be. What about getting back together with Ale? What if he’d already slept with someone else? What if he hadn’t and wanted to know if you did? What if-

“Can I take these off you?” Johnny was knelt in front of you, tugging on your shorts. 

“Please,” you whimpered. He was quick to pull down the wet clothing. He laid a kiss to the top band of your panties.

“Wish I could say you’re this wet for me,” he chuckled. “Tell me what you want, bon.”

“Take them off, please.”

“Good girl.” The way he said ‘girl’ caused heat to rush to your core. He peeled them off you, helping you step out of them and your shorts before tossing them haphazardly over a wooden crate. He mumbled, “They’ll dry.”

He pushed your thighs apart gently. His breath was shaky against your core. Your eyes met, his glassy, blue and blown out. 

“You’re beautiful,” he grinned, lips glossy. He snapped his fingers, signaling for you to keep your eyes on his before he took your clit into his mouth. Your head hit the side of the shed with a dull thud, your eyes rolling backwards. He grabbed one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder, snaking his arm around your other one to hold you steady. 

He slid a finger inside, curling it up to press against your g-spot. He was groaning against your pussy, almost liked he enjoyed this more than you did. 

He made you cum on his face as his fingers stretched you out. 

“There we go. Good girl.” He kissed the inside of your thigh. Rising to his feet, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Best meal I’ll have all summer, I think.”

You giggled, face feeling warm. 

“You’re pretty when you’re flustered.” He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up for a kiss. It was salty and warm. “You want to keep going?”

“Yes.” You didn’t want to sound desperate but your knees were shaking and you wanted him, more than anything else in that moment. He shucked his shorts off before pinning you to the wall with another kiss. His cock was hot and heavy, pressed between the two of you. 

He gripped the back of your thighs and hoisted you up. You wrapped a leg around his waist. He lowered you back down on his cock slowly, the head dragging against your walls. 

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back. 

There was a snap. A stick breaking. Your eyes shot open, looking into the woods behind Johnny. You couldn’t see anything but that didn’t stop goosebumps from running up your body. 

“Hey, look at me.” He guided your head back to him. “It’s just us.” 

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Had sex?”

“Had sex with someone I don’t really know.”

“I don’t bite unless you ask me too.” He grinned, still fully sheathed inside you. “If you want to stop just let me know, okay?”

“No… keep going. It feels good.”

“I’ll make it feel even better.” He nipped at your collarbone. 

He kept a hand on the back of your neck, holding your foreheads together, stealing kisses after any particularly loud moan he fucked out of you. 

The drag of his cock against your g-spot, his gentle coaching for you to touch yourself, his tongue in your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to build yourself up to another orgasm. 

“Want you to come on my cock. Need something to think about the rest of the summer,” He grunted. “Need to see that look on your face again.” 

“Johnny, fuck… Johnny please.”

He let go of your neck to push your hand away from between your thighs, forcibly taking over with fast circles around your clit. Your moans got higher, closer together, almost hiccuping in pleasure. Your head thudding against the shed, back arching as you came.

He kissed you as he pulled out and set you back on the ground. 

“Do.. do you want to finish in my mouth?” He groaned loudly, slowly stroking his cock. 

“Might not last that long if you keep talking like that.”

You sank down to your knees, his arm holding you steady. 

“So pretty,” he said, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip and tugging your mouth open. Somehow a blow job in the woods felt more intimate than sex in the woods. 

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking the precum off the slit. He held your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheekbone. It was a tangy mix of the two of you. You couldn’t take him deep, just towards the back of your mouth. It was enough for him to moan your name between curses though. He made a choking noise and filled your mouth. 

He rested his head against the shed as you wiped your mouth. 

“Sorry, meant to give ya a warning,” he chuckled. 

The two of you stuck close together for the rest of the afternoon. You were met with raised eyebrows from most and a knowing look from Sophia. It wasn’t judgmental, almost like they were congratulating you on conquering him. He was your arm candy. 

There wasn’t any of that expected awkwardness of sleeping with a coworker. Neither of you brought up the rest of the summer or what you would do after. You could both just enjoy each other’s company. Made it seem like you could move on from Alejandro. That it wasn’t the end of the world. 

Johnny had his arm around your waist at the bonfire, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Blew out your flaming marshmallow when it started melting down the stick. From across the flames Sophia winked at you and gave an approving nod. You didn’t feel scared or anxious anymore. No nightmares could touch you. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you yawned. You and Johnny were some of the last ones out. He was pointing out the different constellations. Growing up in the suburbs, you’d never seen this many stars before. 

“I’ll walk ya.”

And he did.

The creak of the door closing behind the two of you. You wished Sophia wasn’t just a wall away. 

“Thank you for everything… today” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. 

“Can’t stand to see a girl like ya be upset.” He toyed with the end of one of your braids. “Can I kiss ya? Last one before those nosey buggers get here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you can.”

He tasted like burnt sugar and beer. His hands on your waist, gliding up under your shirt to mold your skin around his fingers. The excitement of a secret summer fling made your heart sing. Something wild, adventurous and youthful. Something you’d missed.

There was a creak of floor boards coming from behind you. Johnny’s grip tightened around you.

“No!” He barked.

You turned just in time. It was happening again. The masked man. He had a machete in hand. In the light you could see the skull was sewn onto a black balaclava. Was it real?

Johnny shoved you behind him but Mask smacked him hard across the face, sending him to the floor. You screamed. 

“Run!” Johnny groaned, blood pouring from his nose.  

Mask grabbed your braids and yanked you backwards. Pain shot through your neck up to your scalp. He threw you onto the floor next to Johnny, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He groaned, his hand groping for yours.

The first hit of the machete put you into shock. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought. You screamed more out of the horror of hearing your sternum break and blood erupt from the center of your chest. 

“Simon stop!” Was the last thing you heard before the machete came down in the middle of your face, cracking your head like an egg against the counter. 

Sorry this took so long. Kinda had a depressive episode that made it nearly impossible to write 🤷🏼‍♀️

[so-long-soldier-writes]

The Case of the Missing Shirts

elijah mikaelson x reader

summary: elijah's baffled about how many of his shirts that have gone missing... kol hints that you might be behind the harmless theft.

tags: fluff, wolf!reader, pregnancy, nesting

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hayley erasure; reader is in her place

A confused Elijah shakes his head one more time before going downstairs and into the kitchen. He greets his sister with a “good morning,” and receives one back, before the girl eyes him suspiciously. 

“You wore that shirt yesterday, did you not?”

“How could you tell, Bex? They’re all the same,” Kol interrupts before he can respond. 

“There’s a little wrinkle there, and I know how much you hate wrinkles.”

Elijah sighs, “actually, I did. It’s the strangest thing, I can’t find so many of my shirts. My others are in the wash at the moment, leaving me with this one.”

“Missing shirts? How odd.”

“My thoughts exactly. I have no idea where they might be.”

Kol’s face changes to a smirk. “Might have something to do with the little wolf upstairs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I’m not saying she stole them, but you might want to check with her.”

“Are you insinuating Y/N is stealing my clothes? Why would you accuse her of something like that?”

“I’m not accusing her of anything, brother, I’m just saying, she might know where they are.”

In fact, Kol knows exactly where all his missing shirts are. You have taken them. He saw it for himself when he went to check on you the other night. He had entered the room before you had time to hide them, and he chuckled at the sight, but promised not to tell Elijah. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hint at his knowledge of where they are.

Elijah sighs, annoyed at the situation, and now at his brother. “I don’t like you talking about her like that.”

“I’m not saying anything bad! Sorry I said anything. Your shirts can stay missing for all I care.” With that, Kol leaves the room. 

As he passes the threshold, another brother enters. “What’s his problem?” Nik gestures to the brooding sibling on his way back upstairs. 

“Nothing of concern, Niklaus, we just had a scuffle.”

“What kind of scuffle?”

“Have you seen where any of Elijah’s shirts have gone, Nik? He can’t seem to find them,” Rebekah interrupts the conversation.

“This scuffle is about shirts? Are we serious?”

“Well Kol thinks Y/N knows where they are, but-”

“-I have no idea why he would think that,” Elijah finishes. 

“Again,” Klaus pinches his nose in disbelief, “the argument is over shirts? I have more important business to handle.” And with that, he storms out to the balcony. 

Rebekah and Elijah look at each other.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask her, ‘Lijah.”

“Alright,” he says finally, “I’ll ask.”

Thirty minutes later, he ventures up to your room and knocks on your door. 

“Y/N?” 

His voice makes you panic, and you begin to stuff your belongings under your pillows and blankets. “One minute!” Once your bed is more or less neat, you call out for him to enter. 

Elijah opens the door slowly and surveys the room. “Hello, lovely, I was just wondering if you knew where any of my shirts have gone? It’s the strangest thing, I can’t find them.”

You shift uncomfortably. “N-no, I haven’t seen them.”

Your strange behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by the thousand year old vampire. He narrows his eyes at you. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

You nod your head quickly, not trusting your words. 

“Darling? If you know, I won’t be upset.”

You try to lie again, but your breath gets caught in your throat. “I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “I have them; they’re all here.” One-by-one, you pull the missing garments out from under your blankets. “I’m sorry I took them! I liked the way they smell, because they smell like you, and it makes me feel safe.”

His face immediately softens, “oh, don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong. I just wanted to know.”

“I know you’re running low, you can have them back.” You ignore his words, shoving the pile into his arms. A pouty expression takes over your face, making him regret confronting you about it.

“How about this… let me wash these, because I do happen to be low on clean ones, but every time I wear one, you can have it for a couple of days, okay?”

At this, your eyes light up. “Really?”

“Would that make you happy?”

You nod quickly, but not before biting your lip in embarrassment and looking down at the floor. 

He catches on quickly. “There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, love. I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through, but I do understand your reason for this. I’m glad my scent makes you feel safe.”

You want to tell him it’s more than that. You want to tell him he makes you feel safe, and that having his scent so close reminds you of that. You want to tell him that you cuddle it when you sleep, because if you can’t have him, having his scent is the next best thing. Most of all, you want to tell him just how badly you want him.

But you can’t. Because the baby growing inside you isn’t his. It’s his brother’s. 

Deep down, you think Elijah already knows this. You know he cares for you, he’s proven it to you many times. He has kept you safe ever since you came into the family’s lives; he’s fought for you, killed for you. 

The only thing standing in the way of him taking things further with you is that the baby isn’t his. You can’t be his. 

So, the two of you tiptoe around his brother. In love but not allowed to express it, and instead, showing your affection for one another through little things. Everyone in the house can see right through you, though. Nik ignores it, while the younger two tease. 

But the further you get in your pregnancy, the more needy you become. Your body craves and heart aches for him. Not able to ignore your desires any longer, you caved just a little bit and stole a shirt. One became two, two became three, then three somehow became half his closet. You were finally able to sleep comfortably with his scent filling your nose; his shirts enveloping your body in your bed. 

“In fact,” Elijah continues, “keep these two for now. I’ll wash the rest. At the end of the day, I’ll give you this one, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And please, love, come down and eat something. You need to keep up your strength.”

“But I just want to sleep, ‘Lijah.”

“I know, but your baby needs something, too. Just a snack. For me?”

“Okay.”

“There’s my good little girl,” he praises, kissing your forehead gently. He then hands you back two of his shirts, and you leap back in your bed before he can see the blush on your cheeks. “Eat something soon. I’ll be back to check on you.”

◇◇◇◇

At the end of the day, Elijah knocks on your door again to fulfill his promise. It’s nearing nine o’clock, so you’re groggy when you answer him. 

“Come in,” you say, rubbing your eyes. You wake up quickly, though, when you remember the agreement you made. 

Elijah enters, holding his worn dress shirt. “As promised, little wolf.”

You smile up at him before taking it, silently asking permission.

“Go ahead.”

His heart warms as he watches you. You take the shirt and immediately hurry back to your bed. Not caring that he can see, you begin to rearrange the nest you’ve made on your bed so that the newest addition to your pile can be closest to your body. For five minutes, you organize everything how you want it, changing the order several times after it doesn’t feel good enough the first. By the time you finally lay down, tonight’s promised shirt hugs alongside your body perfectly. You run the fabric against your cheek, taking in the scent, before letting out a content sigh. 

Elijah comes over to the edge of your bed, and you roll over on your back to look up at him. 

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” you mutter.

“Of course,” he kisses your nose. Before he leaves, he takes one more glance at your relaxed form. “Sleep well, my little wolf.”