#when it was bad it was bad but it still had good parts!

[moon-my-beloved]

neighbors (tf141 x fem! reader)

part II: company

tw: a bit of obsession and touches from the boys but nothing sexual!! possessiveness. mentions of reader fitting ‘snug’ in a dress but nothing too specific. that’s it. - xoxo

the ride back home was quiet.

silence stretching over the small murmurs of the radio warning people of temperatures dropping along with the sound of the engine running as you drove, grocery bags shoved into the back of the seat.

it really wasn’t until you made it home that you had snapped out of your momentarily dream-like state that you realized what you have done.

you still couldn’t believe it. why couldn’t you just have come up with something, anything to avoid making a fool of yourself with how bad you’re with people.

“oh god,” you groan to yourself. pressing your forehead against the steering wheel with embarrassment taking over your senses. why of all times did you just have to coincidently bump into them?!

you really would’ve preferred it if you had encountered them on a free day and not when you’re trudging around the damn store with your dingy old work clothes. then again, kyle and johnny seemed.. trustworthy at first glance. not to mention how beautiful they were.

they carried an air to them that felt friendly enough but dangerous as well. your brain going blank for a moment when you were surrounded by the two men. an invisible thread luring you into their trap. you don’t know if it was kyles sweet voice or the smell of amber from johnny’s cologne, but they had left you with a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. leaving you in a trance for a split-second before uttering the only syllables you could think of.

blood rushes to your face with shame thinking about them in such ways. how long has it been since you’ve experienced this? clearly long enough from the looks of it. your palms are sweaty, breath a bit short, and your heart is practically beating its way out of your chest like you’re some sort of high school girl being forced to confess to their crush.

you jolt a bit at the sound of a small “buzz” coming from your phone. your eyes almost bulging out of your skull when you unlock your screen— it’s a message from johnny and kyle.

< made a small group chat to make it easier. hope you don’t mind luv.

< we’ll see ye tmrw night, right bonnie?

your fingers hover over the keys, chewing at your bottom lip anxiously as you contemplate how to respond. kyle had mentioned meeting the rest of the team, ignoring how just the thought of talking to them made you want to curl yourself up into a ball until you became invisible. it really wouldn’t hurt to meet them. it will be okay. they were your neighbors for god sake.

taking a deep breath, you typed out what you were going to say.

> sure! sounds good. :)

you barely managed to calm down your nerves before your phone vibrated again.

< atta girl. we’ll see ye at 6.

what did you get yourself into.

you had nearly forgotten how much effort it takes to get ready.

you really weren’t one to wake up early, especially during your off days but today was an exemption. hopping into the shower to shave, exfoliate, moisturize, and pretty much scrub off every crevice from your body as soon as your alarm went off. practically stumbling your way out of the bathroom with how lightheaded you felt by the end of it.

your makeup was next. trying your best to copy a look off of pinterest and almost calling it a day with the many times you had to redo your eyeliner. nevertheless, you had successfully overcome that obstacle. which brings you to your own little dilemma: you had nothing good to wear.

all the clothes varied from old band t-shirts, jeans and sweatpants you wore to laze around. you rarely went out and when you did, it would only be for a short period of time to run some errands or to visit the old bat.

“come on closet, give me something, anything!” cursing to yourself in desperation as you rummaged through the pits of your closet.

after what seemed like forever, your hand grazed against a soft material, pulling it out to reveal a dress. it was no fancy dress but it definitely looked like the better option to wear. it was off-the-shoulder, had long-sleeves, and was long enough to cover your thighs but a bit small around the edges with how snug it felt against your body. it must have been lying around in your closet for who knows how long considering how you have no clue why or when you even bought it.

it felt weird, and new as your ran your hand against the fabric. hesitation soon clouding your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror.

maybe this was a bad idea. you should have said no. you’ll just look weird, now you’re going to make a fool of yours—

—catching glimpse of the time you gasp. shit. no time to mop in your own feelings. quickly and gently pulling the sheer material of your tights over your legs and tying the laces of your boots once you got to the door, doing a quick once-over in front of your mirror before you were out the house. wine in hand as a last minute resort to bring something. a courtesy on your part really.

they were just across from you, why are you so nervous to meet your neighbors? neighbors do this all the time. this is completely normal.

a chill running down your spine with the sudden cold gust of wind brushing over your face even with your coat on. you stood there in front of their door for a bit, subconsciously shifting your weight on each of your legs as you swayed in apprehension.

you can do it. it’s okay, just knock.

taking a deep breath in, you lifted your hand up, planting three solid knocks against the wood of the door and quickly pulling it back once you hear the heavy footsteps of someone coming.

you stiffened once you hear the click of the door opening, your breath catching in your throat as you crane your neck a bit to see the man in front of you.

skull face.

it takes you a moment to recognize who he is now that he’s not wearing a balaclava. instead, he has a black surgical mask adoring his face, just enough to cover most of his features but revealing enough to see the small details. he’s a dirty blonde that’s for sure, making him look less intimidating than when you saw him for the first time. his dark eyes are roaming over your figure, leaving you standing still in fear of some way offending him if you even dared to move just an inch.

he’s wearing a grey long-sleeve shirt, along with a pair of grey joggers. you hope you hadn’t interrupted his sleep with how disheveled his hair looks. he looks comfortable though, questioning your own choice of attire. you might have overdressed.

before you could open your mouth to introduce yourself, a booming voice can be heard from behind the man.

“don’ be scarin’ off our guest, simon!” a toothy grin on his face as he slides next to the taller man. arm wrapping around simon’s waist before letting out a low whistle that makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “well look at ye. so bonnie, m’ glad ye could make it lass, come in. gaz is just finishing up makin’ us dinner.”

nodding, your eyes flicker back at simon as you extend your hand for him to take. “it’s nice to meet you, simon. I, uh, live across from you guys.”a throaty grunt coming from him as he engulfs your hand in his, firmly shaking your hand in return.

they let you in once introductions are over, johnny’s hand hovering over the sole of your back as he follows you into the living room, telling you to get comfortable.

“don’ ye worry, simon doesn’t bite.” looking over at the man with an expression only him and simon would understand as he grabs the wine from your hands, disappearing into the kitchen.

it was awkward to the say the least. silence stretching over the two of you as simon sits across from you on an arm chair, book in his hands and eyebrows scrunched up in concentration.

it went on like that for about a few minutes before simon’s gravely voice cut through the stillness of the room.

“you like it so far?” he asks. the question catching you off guard before realizing what he means. “oh, yes! everyone’s been so nice and welcoming. especially auntie lottie.” a small smile forming on your lips as you recounter your many little dates together.

simon’s eyes crinkle at that, setting the book down beside him as he crosses his arms over his chest. sleeve rolling up a bit to reveal some ink. “‘s there a particular reason why you moved here?”

alarm bells ring in your mind at that. for someone who’s quiet, he sure likes to ask personal questions. you’re new to the neighborhood though, you could understand if he’s wary of you.

“I had some ‘issues’ with my roommate. now ex-roommate,” you say. a deep hum coming from the man across from you as he tilts his head to the side. “can’t say i don’t know what that feels like. have to deal with these muppets all the time.”

you can’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head in amusement. “for some reason I doubt they’re any worse than the person I lived with.”

“must have been a hell of a roommate then. you’ve peaked my interest sweetheart.” simon’s shoulders relaxing from their tense position once he heard the sweet sound of your laughter.

he had to admit, he was wrong about you. you were not who he envisioned you to be. his own skepticism plaguing his mind when gaz and soap came through the door with news about the new neighbor. johnny gushing about how much of a sweet thing you were and kyle nodding in agreement as he listened. price leaning against the wall as he watched the whole thing with a raised eyebrow.

“we have tae invite her over ghost. you’ll like her, ah promise.”

he was ready to decline the offer. ready to scold johnny for even suggesting inviting a stranger over, especially one he and price hadn’t met before. yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. seeing how johnny eyes practically screamed please and how kyle’s own head leaned against his chest as he stared at him.

“I don’t see a problem with it.” price said, giving simon a small shrug as he sipped on his tea.

jaw clenching, he sighed.

“fine.”

now looking at you, he understands why the boys took interest in you. you were gorgeous. a nervous thing. you reminded him of a scruffy kitten with how skittish and bad you were at holding eye contact. your fingers picking at the fabric of your tights that will surely leave a rip by the of the night. he had a feeling price will love a pretty doll like you.

he knew you lived alone. johnny and kyle had suspected you did and it didn’t take long for him and price to figure out you had no one to come home to with how much of a chatter box auntie lottie could be.

and for some reason the thought of you being alone left him with an annoying itch in his brain. an itch that had his fists curling until his knuckles turned white as he stared at you. who would leave such a sweet thing like you all alone?

“simon?” your voice cuts through his thoughts. eyes flickering towards you as your warm palm lays against his knee. eyes furrowing in confusion as you stare at him with those pretty eyes. “are you okay?”

“‘m fine. don’t worry, luv.” your lips turning into a small smile as you retreat your hand, fighting the urge to grab you and hold you against him forever.

silence falls between you again. your palms sweating a bit as you feel simon’s eyes on you.

your attention is soon ripped away from your hands as you hear the door opening, revealing the older man from a few days ago.

mutton chops.

he looks better up close. beard nicely trimmed and kind eyes as he stares at you. he has his winter clothes on. beanie on top of his head along with a jacket and cargo pants.

placing the grocery bags he was carrying on the counter next to the door as he makes his way next to simon.

“and who might this be?” he asks, staring down at you as you scramble to stand up and walk towards him. stuttering a small introduction as you extend your hand which he takes and brings closer to his face. staring wide-eyed as he presses a small kiss against the skin before he lets you go.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you. the boys have been talking about you.” he says, letting out a gruff chuckle as he takes the beanie off his head.

“i hope good things, sir.” you return with a tight smile. a small snort could be heard next to him as simon tilts his chin down to hide his laughter. mutton chops sending him a hard glare before returning his attention back to you.

“just call me john, darlin’. we are all friends here, right?” you could only nod, muttering a small apology before kyle and johnny come walking back to the living room, announcing that dinner is ready.

kyle brings you into a hug, pressing a small kiss against the side of your face between your jaw and neck that has you sucking in your breath.

“I’m so glad you could make it. I hope you’re hungry, i made a big feast.” his hands lingering a bit before johnny slides next to him, pushing him a bit to the side.

“kyle an’ simon are our little chefs of the house.” sending a teasing look at their direction as simon just rolls his eyes while kyle pulls johnny in for a quick kiss. your face heating up as you’re smushed between their bodies.

“stop hovering’ over the bird and let’s eat. we all are hungry.” price says, gently pulling you close to him as he leads you to the dinner table. the boys following behind them as you hear johnny and kyle wince at simon smacking them on the back of their head.

dinner goes smoothly. your tummy full with all the delicious food kyle made that had you moaning with every bite. kyle biting his lip to hide the small grin forming with how he preened in satisfaction.

with everyone occupied with their food, you took the moment to analyze all of them. there’s definitely a strong relationship between the four men.

price reaching out to squeeze kyle’s hand in appreciation by the end of dinner as the younger man just sends him a fond look.

johnny and simon were practically glued by the hip. soap naturally brushing his hand against simon’s thigh every time he talked or made a horrible dad joke which you couldn’t help but laugh every single time. they all fitted with one another like a puzzle. a small glow coming from them with all the gazes and smiles they shared.

at times you felt like you were an intruder watching from outside the glass, and maybe it was envy you felt. not towards the men but towards the love and devotion they had for one another. they were all beautiful and you were the ugly duckling of the group.

you had gone quiet without you realizing it, price touching your shoulder as you jolted in surprise. turning your head towards him as you’re met with a soft gaze. “we lost you there for a minute, love.”

“i.. I’m sorry. I kinda got lost in thought.” you say, offering a little laugh as you gulp down the last of your wine. god, how much have you drunk to get this emotional over something so meaningless?

if john notices the way your voice wavers or the way you eyes gloss over, he doesn’t comment on it. instead, asking kyle and johnny to take you to the couch to watch a movie as him and simon clean the dishes. ignoring your protests in helping and shutting you up with a stern look.

johnny pinches your cheek as you sulk like a child for not being able to help. “you’re our guest silly. would be rude tae make ye work.” setting you down on the comfy couch, blanket in hand as he sits to your right and kyle to your left. squished between their warm bodies.

“get comfortable, princess.” kyle murmurs beside you, the hairs on your neck standing with how close he is. wondering if they could hear goat fast your heart is beating.

the boys insist in you to pick the movie, settling on watching the “elf” with christmas just around the corner. you try your very best to stay focused on the tv screen, ignoring the way johnny ever so often lightly brushes his fingers against your shoulder with how he rests his arm around the back of the couch. or the way kyle brushes his leg against your thigh, sending you an innocent simple every time you look his way.

at some point in the middle of the movie, your eyes grow heavy. your body fighting the urge to shut down after a long week of work. you soon lose the battle, the mixture of both kyle and johnny’s warmness, their scents, soft touches and way of making you feel relaxed win over your consciousness.

you think you feel a soft blanket drape itself on you along with your shoes being removed. the faintest touch against your cheek before you drift to sleep.

“goodnight mo luaidh.”

a/n: I’m not very proud of this one but i tried my best. 😓 please let me know if there’s anything i should fix/improve on. love ya! <33

[hoonieyun]

so lovey dovey

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader genre: fluff and romance warnings: consensual skinship, drunk!jake, kissing, kinda suggestive, 18+ inspired by jake's live where he says "when i'm drunk i become lovely & cute" as if he isnt always lovely and cute >_<

hoonieyun notes: some fluff because why nawt.. im slowly amping all of the angst in the up coming fics for february so i'm making up for it now by posting a few fluff and romance drabbles :3

wc: 1037

jake was sprawled across your couch as he takes occassional sips from his glass of beer. it wasn’t often that jake drank but tonight he invited the guys over for game night and that usually entails drinks and a bunch of food. you didn’t mind doing your own thing on the side as you lounged in the comfort of your bedroom, every now and then making an appearance to make sure everyone was good and not fighting for losing or winning or even stealing some of the food for yourself. 

and that’s what you were about to do right now. you had just finished your small bowl of tteokbeokki and it certainly wasn’t enough so you decided to grab some more. you walk out of you and jake’s shared bedroom and find the group of guys arguing over mario kart. 

jungwon claiming that niki cheated, jay not paying attention to the argument because he came in 1st place, and jake who was already staring at your figure standing in the hall.

“hi, baby” he says, drawing out the last part of the petname. 

“hi, jakey. i just want some more food.” you chirp as you approach and he instantly takes your bowl to fill it with more food. “you sure you don’t wanna come join us?” he asks, handing you back your bowl. 

“mmm…” you ponder, looking over to niki and jungwon who are still arguing and sunoo who was having too much fun laughing at the two younger guys bicker. before you could even answer, jake is pulling you into his lap and whispering into your ear, “please, stay.” he says. his breath was low and warm and it sent tickles down your back. you nod in agreement and his smile widens at your response. 

jake loved having you around at all times, even when you two weren’t necessarily doing anything, he just loved having you near him. 

the guys often teased him that he was too whipped or down bad for you and jake would just brush it off. of course he was down bad for you, every man should be down bad for his girlfriend, if he wasn’t then he was doing something wrong. 

you silently eat your food as the games continue, heeseung using his eldest privileges to change the game to which jungwon groaned as he wanted another chance at mario kart. 

you weren’t sure what game they were playing but they all took turns passing the controller around to kill monsters and what not. and when it came to jake’s turn, the guys would groan in annoyance after jake causes them to die and lose the game. 

all of them turned their attention to jake who was too busy staring at you eating your tteokbeokki to pay any mind to the game they were playing. 

“dude, you just let us die!”

“earth to jake?”

“hellooo?”

they all tried to get his attention but he was too immersed in you to notice. eyes sparkling as he watches you fondly and lovingly. a cute habit of his whenever he got drunk or even the slightest bit tipsy. 

he would get very cute and lovely and wouldn’t be able to get you out of his head as if you weren’t always occupying his mind. 

“jakey, the guys are talking to you..” you say, blinking a few times at him and his smile widens when he hears your voice. 

jake doesn’t even glance over to the guys, he just sloppily passes the remote to one of them in which sunghoon catches it and continues the game after jake has caused their character to die. jake had you in his lap, gently rubbing your thighs as he rests his head on your back. humming occassionally whenever you leaned closer into his touch. 

“can you ask them to leave.. i wanna be alone with you.” he whispers into your ear. 

“why can’t you do it..” you whisper back and he explains that if you tell everyone to go home they’ll listen because you’re a girl but if he does it they’ll all just ignore him and want to continue game night. you think about it for a second and he’s absolutely right. so you give him a nod and a small kiss on the forehead to which jake gets flustered and shy over, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he blushes at your actions. 

you decide to stand up and do an exaggerated yawn, “gosh, i’m exhausted, what time is it?” you say, looking over to the clock on the wall and just like that– the guys take the hint and start packing up all of the things. they each help with putting things in the kitchen to throw away or to be washed and soon enough they were all saying their goodbyes and filing out of your shared apartment with jake. 

“finally.. i can have you all to myself.”  jake says, a pout on his lips as he pulls you into a hug. he brings the two of you to your bedroom, not letting go of you once. you try to get out of his grasp but he begins to whine and pout, “relax, jaeyunnie. i’m just turning off the lights.” you say and he jumps up from his spot on the bed, running over to the lightswitch and flicking it off before running back to bed and cuddling up to you. 

he nuzzles his head on your shoulder as the two of you cozy up to one another, placing several kisses on your neck and cheek. “i wanna stay like this forever.” he says. you just love whenever he gets like this, so cute and lovey dovey. his ears and cheeks a shade of red from the alcohol and his need to express how much he loved you and loved being near you. 

“goodnight jakey..” you say, waiting for him to say it back but you’re met with the sound of his snores, causing you to chuckle, pulling your phone out and snapping a photo of how cute he looked while sleeping, ears still red and his face slightly buried in the crook of your neck. 

jake, your cute and lovey dovey boyfriend.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[elliee3e]

‘animals’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ thinking about logan & f! reader being absolute animals during his cage fighting era

content warnings ;

porn & somewhat plot (in between the lines) , actually y’all i apologise this is just pure smut i think , rough sex , oral sex (m! & f! receiving + giving) , spit play , messy sex , facials, overstimulation , more stuff probably that i forgot help

author’s note ;

nothing to say other than the fact this is probably my most insane fic . send help, i need this logan so bad though 💔💔 y’all have been warned this is messy

you had met logan at one of the bars he was cagefighting at. being the owner’s daughter, you had the job to clean out the whole bar and close it down — including the cage, wiping it clean after every fight. the first few times, logan would pretty much just ignore you, but soon a night of him staying overtime as you poured him more than just a few drinks even though you were supposed to close the bar hours ago, you didn’t have it in you to kick him out. you didn’t know why. maybe it was the way your body tingled with need each time you watched him down another shot and take a drag of his cigar, tapping the then empty glass on the bar table as if silently asking for a new shot — which you instantly gave, not needing to exchange any words as you just went back and forth, cleaning the bar, scrubbing at the tables, watching him from afar as he just sat there and smoked and drank and god you knew he was no good. everything about him screamed bad, but you yearned for him each night somehow, even with having exchanged no more than three words; knowing little to nothing about him, all you knew was that you waited for the moment for him to finally make a fucking move, as the sexual tension was unbearable.

and you don’t know when this little ‘routine’ started happening, but, logan’s fucking you. you’ve even lost track of how or when, but you’re in the back of his RV and he’s absolutely ravaging your body against the mattress as he has you on all fours — large hand snaking to your throat and further up until two of his thick fingers pressed against your parted, moaning lips — sliding them in effortlessly. “atta fucking girl, that’s it..” he grunted, his other hand still on your hip, keeping it in place as he keeps on pounding into your sweet pussy from behind, over and over, hitting that bundle of nerves deep inside you that made you moan even more around his fingers in your mouth, slicking them up with your slobber and drool — his dick dumbing you completely.

“fuckin’ knew you would be good, since the moment i saw ya,” he would huff; now wet, spit slick fingers leaving your drooling mouth as that same hand grabs your jaw, pressing your cheek against the pillow and making you whimper. “logan.. gonna, gonna cum..” was all you could mumble out, your eyes fluttering back, the only thing you could focus on being the way your walls squeezed around his dick, needing support as that heat conjured up in your lower belly, your hands fisting at the sheets.

the same way they would fist and tangle in his messy hair as he would go down on you. it would be late at night, still way past closing hour — you were supposed to have the whole bar cleaned and closed hours ago but logan did a good job of distracting you of that as he sat you on the bar table (which, mind you, you had just got done cleaning, but you would yell at him for that later—) and started spreading your thighs apart for him, wasting no time in going to lick and eat at your sopping heat. “fuck,” you breathed, heels digging into his back as his tongue started teasing your entrance mercilessly, nose nudging your clit, his senses full of your needy smell as his tongue collected the sweet arousal that leaked from your entrance. “best fuckin’ thing i ever tasted, princess.” he would pull away just to growl against your thigh, littering kisses over there before making his way back to your cunt, placing sloppy kisses there too and to your aching clit; before he went to suck on the soft bud, your head turning fuzzy again as the warm feeling consumed you.

the same warm feeling that would consume you as he would have you in his lap, back pressed against him, head tilted back against his shoulder as his two of his roughed up fingers filled up your tight heat, working them inside it — making you squirm and gasp in his lap. you were always so sensitive when it came to those big hands playing with your little heat, making you whine and scratch at his arm, feeling the muscles flex each time his fingers pumped in and out of you. “logan,” your voice would come out in no more than a choked sob, as he was starting to drag out a third orgasm out of you already, just from his hands. “yeah, what is it baby? gonna cum for me, from my fingers?” he would chuckle, finding it absolutely ridiculous how much of a mess you could be reduced to with just his touch. your thighs were starting to tremble and threatened to close, the pressure being too much, overstimulating your little body against him — but his free hand rested on your thigh firmly and didn’t let you move, all you could do was nod and let out your choked moans that went right to logan’s aching cock in his jeans, but he would take care of that later.

later, being when you would get on your knees for him in the bar’s seedy bathroom, looking up at logan expectantly as he would fumble with his belt to quickly reach the buttons of his jeans and tug them down — his length hard and throbbing, heavy as you took it into your hand hesitantly to rub the bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip, but logan’s hands grabbed at your wrist harshly and pushed them away. he seemed on edge. “no, none of that. i only got a couple minutes here, so hurry up—“ he would grumble, making you huff softly in reply. it’s not that you hated quickies with him like this, but, he would always be on edge and rough, just overall harsher. but you knew he had a match in just a few minutes, and you didn’t want to add onto his stress. you just wanted to help. hesitantly leaning in to press a gentle, warming up kiss to the head of his cock, you took it into your mouth, feeling the weight on your tongue as you slowly started to take more in; logan’s low moans and praises encouraging you to do more. “fuck, yeah. just like that, baby. so good..” he would groan, a hand reaching up to run through your soft hair, grabbing a grip on it to gently start and push it down more — wanting you to take more of his cock down your pretty throat. the signal was pretty clear to you, and so you doubled your efforts, pulling away just a moment to catch your breath and stealing a quick glance up at logan for approval through your already glazed eyes, before moving back down onto his cock. your mouth was stuffed full before as you reached half of it, but you still managed to push the last few inches into your soft throat, making logan’s grip tighten in your hair. “goddamn it, princess.” he would hiss, head tilting back against the hard, cold tile wall as he let you work your mouth on him, pubic hair pressed up against your nose, the scent around you being him and only him, along with the noises in the bathroom — his suppressed moans and groans, as he gripped at your hair so much it eventually made you start to whimper. “makin’ a mess, droolin’ all over my cock..” he would grunt, using his grip on your hair to pull you off him as he rubbed his messy tip against your cheek. “gonna let me paint that messy face with my cum?”

and you nodded. like you always did. you were weak for the man.

[carnalcrows]

FREAKY ON CAMERA - MYUNG-GI

pairing: myunggi x top male reader

synopsis: Your batchmate looks familiar. Almost too familiar for your own good

content warnings: 18+, college!AU, bottom myunggi, camboy myunggi, full nelson, breeding, creampie, drunk sex, dubcon recording.

word count: 1.9k

A/N: req, but i changed it around a little 😭😭

giggle333 is live.

You sat up straighter, quickly plugging in your headphones as the stream loaded. And there he was—shirtless, his toned chest on full display, that familiar birthmark just above his heart making your stomach flip. His voice, low and teasing, filled your ears.

The party wasn’t for another hour, and you were sprawled out on your bed, phone in hand, scrolling through notifications. The dull hum of your roommates chatting in the kitchen barely registered as you opened the app—your favorite app, the one you never mentioned to anyone. 

 “Missed me, didn’t you?” he said with a smirk, leaning closer to the camera. His hands trailed down his torso, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. This guy was intoxicating, an enigma who never showed his face but somehow had you—and thousands of others—completely hooked.

The comments flooded in:

@User89: God, I’d sell my soul for a glimpse of your face. @Horny4Giggle Take it off already! @Me: We definitely missed you. Don't tease us too much.

You chuckled at your own boldness, even though you knew he’d never see it among the sea of messages. Still, the way he leaned back with a wicked grin, in a way that carefully covered his eyes–his identity, somehow made you feel like he was looking right at you.

“Patience,” he purred, his fingers grazing his jaw. “Good things come to those who wait.

His hand slowly trails all the way down his torso, inching towards the hem of his trackpants, slowly sliding them off to reveal his hardened length, glossy at the tip with pre-cum. It stood proudly, with a prominent vein travelling from the base to the head.

He wraps his fingers around the base, slowly bringing them up to meet the head, before sliding them back down. As he jerked off, his other hand held a blunt– lazily moving it from finger to finger as the mild smoke filled the room, occasionally taking a puff.

God– he was really fucking hot.

You’d completely lost track of time when your roommate banged on your door.

“Hey! Are you coming or what? Party’s starting!”

You yanked out your headphones, your heart racing from a mix of guilt and excitement. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” you shouted back, quickly closing the app.

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived, a cacophony of laughter, bad karaoke, and the faint, questionable smell of spilled beer wafting through the air. It was one of those nights where everyone seemed to forget they had papers due, part-time jobs to show up for, or any semblance of self-respect. Naturally, you let yourself get swept up in the chaos because who were you to argue with free booze and bad decisions?

You’d come with a group of friends, but somewhere between your second and third shot, they’d vanished into the throng of students. Which left you to your own devices. Not a great idea, if you were being honest.

“I’m gonna live forever!” one of your batchmates shouted, launching themselves into an ill-advised beer pong dive that sent cups flying. You cringed and grabbed another drink to distract yourself.

It was then that your eyes landed on Myung-gi. He was leaning casually against the counter, nursing a drink and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Myung-gi had that mysterious, brooding vibe that seemed to get everyone’s attention, including yours. The guy rarely spoke to anyone unless he had to, and even then, it was usually in short, clipped sentences that somehow made him even more intriguing.

You, however, were a little too drunk to care about the “don’t bother me” energy he radiated. “Hey, Myung-gi!” you called out, sidling up to him.

He raised an eyebrow, barely looking at you. “What?”

“Why’re you standing here like someone forced you to attend your own funeral? This is supposed to be fun.”

“This is fun,” he deadpanned, taking a slow sip from his cup.

“Wow,” you said, mock-impressed. “You’re like a walking carnival.”

He gave you a flat look, but the corner of his mouth twitched, and you counted that as a win.

Hours later, the party showed no signs of slowing down, but you and Myung-gi somehow ended up stumbling into an empty bedroom together. You weren’t even sure how it happened—one moment, you were arguing over the merits of pineapple on pizza (he was staunchly against it), and the next, you were closing the door behind you to block out the noise.

“This room is so damn hot,” Myung-gi muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“You’re just drunk,” you replied, slumping onto the bed.

Ignoring you, he pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the chair. That’s when you saw it—the birthmark. A distinct shape, just above his heart. The same birthmark you’d seen countless times before on your favorite camboy’s chest.

You froze, your alcohol-addled brain struggling to process the revelation. Myung-gi, your quiet, brooding classmate, couldn’t possibly be him. Could he?

“Uh…” you said, sitting up straight. “Nice birthmark.”

He frowned, looking down at himself. “What about it?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “It’s, uh, familiar. Very familiar.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Are you…” You paused, trying to find the right words. “Are you giggle333?”

Myung-gi’s entire body stiffened. “What?” His voice was sharp, defensive.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” you blurted, pointing at his chest. “That birthmark—it’s exactly like the one he has. You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence!”

“Shut up,” he hissed, glancing toward the door like someone might overhear. “You’re drunk.”

“I was drunk,” you shot back. “Not anymore. Not after this.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re insane.”

“Am I, though? Because this feels pretty damning.”

For a moment, he just glared at you, his jaw clenched. Then, with a defeated sigh, he muttered, “Fine. Yes. It’s me. Happy now?”

You blinked, the confirmation sending a thrill down your spine. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” he snapped. “I only do it for the money. College isn’t cheap, you know.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “I knew it. I knew it! You’re—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “You’re not telling anyone about this. Got it?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Or what?”

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, silencing you in the most effective way possible. The kiss was rough, desperate, and completely unexpected. For a moment, you froze, but then you found yourself kissing him back, your hands tangling in his hair as the tension between you snapped like a rubber band.

The two of you tumbled onto the bed, the world outside forgotten. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, trailing up your sides, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t get enough. Your heart raced, every touch sending sparks through your body.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered against your lips, his voice low and heated.

“And yet, here we are,” you shot back breathlessly, a teasing grin on your face.

You pulled him closer to you, if that was even possible, before latching your lips onto his once more.

As the two of you tumbled around in bed, you managed to get both your pants and boxers off, leaving your lower halves naked to the cool night air.

Myung-gi shuddered as you yanked at his shoulders pulling him onto your lap. You searched through the back pockets of your discarded khakis to find a small packet of lube.

“Did you come prepared for this?” Myung-gi questioned, to which you simply smirked before ripping the packet with your teeth and pouring its contents straight onto your erection.

He simply watched as the clear liquid slowly slid down your cock, making it glisten in the moonlight invading the room.

Wordlessly, you picked him up from the bed and turned him around, making his face smush against the plush pillows. Before he could utter a word of protest, you slid your lubed cock into his hole.

A wanton moan left his mouth, the pain of being stretched combining with the pleasure of being so, so full.

You slid all the way in, feeling the way your cock stretched out his tight hole. As you bottomed out, you steadied him, resting your hands at his waist.

“Gonna move now baby–” you uttered before pulling out to the tip and then slamming back in with full force.

You swear he almost squealed.

You had been going at it for almost an hour, when an idea popped in your head. Myung-gi’s phone was lying somewhere on the bed, so you fetched it and told him to unlock it. He did what you said, feeling too cockdrunk to think about what you were going to do with his phone.

Scrolling through his apps, you finally found the one he used for streaming.

giggle333 is live

You then placed the phone at the foot of the bed and waited for the magic to happen, as you positioned yourself and the other man in such a way that he was sitting in your lap and both of you were facing the camera, the angle hiding both of your faces to maintain privacy.

As you expected, comments started to flood in, ranging from shock, confusion, and obvious horniness.

@User89: Oppa is online– wait, is that another guy with him?? @Horny4Giggle Man– now I’m hard @User230: Never knew giggle was a fag lolololol

You merely smirked at the comments before holding Myung-gi’s thighs all the way to his shoulders, putting him in a reverse mating press of sorts.

Once again, you resumed your thrusts, making your length hit his prostate every single time. He simply blabbered this and that, his hands mediating between flailing and holding up his thighs for balance.

“Fuck–please I can’t!” he squealed, to which you simply sped up your thrusts, making his head fall back against your chest.

Your thrusts slowly began to stutter, and without warning, you released into his hole, painting his insides pearly white.

Myung-gi came soon after with a drawn out moan, staining his torso with his release. You let him lay there for a while before gently pushing him off and reaching for his phone. The viewer count had almost reached a million, while the comments made you chuckle.

@PussyEater: God I could watch this all day @User12294732: Unfollowing now– didn’t expect gay bullshit @Horny4Giggle : I just came I think

You turned off the live and fell back onto the bed, exhaustion coursing through your veins.

Later, as you both lay sprawled on the bed, catching your breath, you couldn’t help but reach for your phone. A little secret insurance, you told yourself, snapping a quick photo of his flushed, disheveled form before he could protest.

“Seriously?” he groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Hey,” you said, grinning mischievously. “A little souvenir never hurt anyone.”

He glared at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. Just a hint of amusement and maybe even admiration. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning in for another kiss. “But at least you’ll enjoy it.”

As you both lay there, basking in the afterglow of sex, the bedroom door opened, and standing at it was none other than your roommate– Thanos.

“You two seem to be enjoying yourselves,” he smirks, “care for another round?”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[bokutoko]

kuroo's pretty sure he’s about to lose his job.

but he can’t bring himself to care.

just like clockwork at 5:30 PM, he walked up to your best friend’s apartment with a single flower—your favorite, not just the typical ‘apology roses’ he picked out in the past—along with his work phone. while you never told him where you went, he knew you ended up here, far across town from him.

he stood face-to-face with the cheap mahogany of the door, debating if he should knock. how would you react? would you even answer?

nevertheless, he left his things in a little bag, turning off his work phone that already had four missed calls from coworkers. it wasn’t much, but it was proof. it was evidence that he was trying, trying to show you he could do it.

he could separate work and his life—for you.

the heels of his shoes clicked on the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked back to the elevator, back to his high-rise that had never felt so dark and empty as it had since you left.

the late-night autumn air was cold, and kuroo saw his breath as he walked, the brisk chill cutting through his coat. but he’ll freeze if it means he could prove to you he could change—that he could be the man you deserved.

and that was what he did, every morning and evening.

as days passed, kuroo brought more upon his visits: your favorite sweets when he dropped his phone off, a book that he remembered was on your TBR, a little note saying he hoped you were well and drinking enough water. you always were bad about that.

one morning, he left your favorite coffee since he knew you had an important presentation that had been marked in your shared calendar in the kitchen. he gave the door a soft knock—not because he wanted you to see him (even though he definitely did) but because he knew you didn’t like your coffee to get cold—and he quickly walked off.

one morning, he came rounding the corner at 8:30 AM on the dot to pick up his work phone, another flower in-hand, when he saw you standing at the front door, and he swore he could’ve fallen to his knees at the sight of you.

you were wearing comfier clothes—must be your day off—and he opened his mouth to say something, anything.

“hi,” is all his voice uttered. is that all you’re gonna say to the love of your life, who you haven’t seen in weeks?? good job, you fu—

“what’re you doing, tetsu?” you softly asked, skepticism lining your gaze as you gave his work suit a once over. his tie is slightly lopsided.

his brain short circuited at the sound of your voice, a balm to his soul. “what do you mean?” he prompted, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“all of this,“ you motioned around you and to him standing before you, “what are you doing?”

kuroo’s eyes followed her, glancing at his hands, which held another one of your favorite flowers, the little bag that was now conveniently missing the chocolates he left for you yesterday, his turned-off work phone that probably had dozens of missed calls—not that he cared about that anyway.

you were here; he wasn’t about to ruin his chance to talk to you.

“you know what i’m trying to prove here, angel,” he reasoned, taking a hesitant step forward, “and i’ll do this for as long as it takes—”

“for what?”

“for you to come home,” he said, his eyes zeroing in on your finger, the beautiful engagement ring he gave you months ago still sparkling, even in the shitty apartment hallway lighting.

she still wore it, after all this time.

he had to remind himself to breathe, and he added a soft, “angel, please come home soon.”

he knew she can see right through him, she can see how this man has stripped himself bare before her, all the way to the marrow of his bones. all his cards were on the table. no games, no bullshit.

he knew it wouldn’t be that day, the next, or maybe even in another long week before you’d come home, but he hoped that one day, you’d trust him to give him your heart once more.

he won’t lose you.

PART ONE HERE

a/n: TADAAA part two! i lowk was not expecting so many people to like angsty kuroo but here we are

*HUGE thank you to the anon for the help with an idea; you’re wonderful, and i hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[sneepity-snoop-snorpity-sneep]

I apparently come across as the same age as my younger coworkers, possibly because I am holding the vestiges of my whimsy in a deathgrip and also because they are experiencing the highs and lows of marriage and I'm not (seriously, I once had a conversation with an old lady at an urgent care where she was talking about her kids, stopped mid-conversation and went "you don't have any, i can see it in your eyes" TTvTT). If i were a cartoon I might be failing the above person's character design test

a lot of people do NOT 'look like adults'. Hell, in my experience a lot of folks look about the same if they're between 16 and 25 depending on the person and the only real way to find out where they fall on that range is to straight-up ask them

on one hand, yes, fiction and character design in cartoons specifically is meant to convey information about the characters to the audience quickly and easily - that doesn't mean shorthand like this is a good idea

visually conveying important information about your characters to your viewers is one thing, catering to the members of the audience who become viscerally uncomfy with characters not fitting in the exact boxes they think characters (and usually real people) should fit in is another thing ENTIRELY. People are gonna surprise you and do backflips around your expectations in real life just by being themselves sometimes, and frankly fiction gets better when this part of the human experience is included (at least i think it does)

like this whole complaint could've just stopped at "I don't like it when writers/designers sexualize characters whose role in the story doesn't have anything to do with their sexuality or lack thereof" and most folks would agree - like anybody from the clone wars fandom remember what they decided to have ahsoka wear for the first couple of seasons for no real reason? but that doesn't actually have any bearing on the character themself, again, see young ahsoka running around doing jedi commander stuff and having character arcs that her clothes are coincidental for at best (girl was literally in a war zone with not only no protective clothing, but not clothing at all covering at least three vital organs hhhhhhhhh)

and also, since this seems to be about hazbin hotel, I'd like to point out that there's probably some overlap OOP is seeing between 'character is being sexualized by the writers and/or fans' and 'character is in a story that includes adult themes about sexuality, lust, etc, and is shown to visibly have a sex drive/sex life/sexual experience', as many adults do.

But i still don't really see this as a bug over a feature, i mean....yeah hazbin hotel writes adults whose lives include sex-related stuff in a very different way than other adult shows which include sexuality (gonna use arcane and castlevania here, because i just recently re-watched both), but they're also all very different kinds of stories.

hazbin hotel, while not being quite the same kind of show like say family guy or south park, where you might find over-the-top sex/profanity based comedy, is the kind of adult animation that decided to have sex be a more relevant part of the setting and sometimes plot. Characters make sexual references, innuendos, jokes, etc, all the time even when there isn't any actual sex going on, while the other two shows I mention simply have sex being A Thing Adults Do Sometimes and there isn't (usually, with a particular exception *cough cough Lenore + Hector*) anything majorly plot-relevant about it.

but as far as your audience goes, that's really a difference in preference than a sign of good/bad writing or character design. Like i'm definitely more of a fan of the latter style of including sexuality in stories about adults. The hazbin hotel take on writing adults and sex isn't my cup of tea, but neither is it a deal breaker for adult media in general for me. This may be because I am Not Going To Pay Attention To Whatever Nonsense The Horny Fans Are Doing Now. i'm just not.

like a lot of the above complains seem to be rooted in how members of the audience will see the character, which is really not the greatest way to judge a work of fiction. Inevitably, at least some fans will draw porn of any character regardless of canonical age or if the story they're from actually has any kind of sexual content or not (doesn't Disney have an official vault of porn of characters from a bunch of their kids movies/shows? yeah) and if that's an issue for you you may not be curating your own online experience as much as you should. Gotta learn to think 'Do i actually want to see/engage with this or will it just make me unhappy' before u actually look at something. I regret to inform u i dont know any way outside of experiencing the consequences of NOT doing that to learn when I should. I'm talking about the moment when i see a unfamiliar word online ending in 'philia' and i take a moment to notice my curiosity before pondering if i really care to look it up

in conclusion, trying to box actual adult's appearance/behavior into boxes on who should and shouldn't be allowed to have a visible sexuality is just kinda reminiscent on the aspects of western shame culture that presume you can stop people behaving badly by making the potential targets of that behavior act so as not to encourage it.

Understandable gut motivation. Poorly thought out reaction

Alright.

At First I Was Going To Make A Joke About How Stupid This Thing Is, But Now That I’m Thinking About It This Is Just More Gross, Infuriating, And Sexist Than It Is Stupid And Funny.

Adult Are Adults.

Fictional Adult Are Fictional Adults.

I Don’t Care What Height They Are, If They Have Curves Or Not, If Their Personality Is Childish Or Adultish, Or If They Look Like A Child Or A Adult.

They Are Adults No Matter What.

Also “ProShippers Take Her And Run”… Can You Just… Not Do Or Say Anything Ever Again?

Either That Or Change Your Ways?

[atlabeth]

in over my head

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: between all the arguments, you and spencer begin to understand each other a little bit more.

a/n: wauw.... out of nowhere i wrote 4k words and finished this chapter in one night... god bless spencer reid. i hope you all enjoy. r's cold heart is finally starting to defrost. title from the fray song

wc: 5k

warning(s): arguing, case discussions (stalking, murder, etc), talk of parental neglect, hurt w/o comfort then hurt/comfort. r lowkey freaking out this whole fic. the usual good time

You lean against the wall, trying to keep your breathing as quiet as possible. 

You don’t really want Spencer to know you were eavesdropping on him the whole time. You don’t really want him to see the look on your face because he defended you to your dad. 

He— he should expect it, shouldn’t he? He’s sitting out in the living room on the phone, and you’re you. It’s only natural you’d listen in on him. 

Spencer defended you to your dad— mouthed off to him in very un-Spencer-like fashion. 

Why? 

From what you’d gathered, he practically worshipped the guy. Even if he didn’t, your dad was still his superior. It didn’t really seem like any kind of good idea to talk back to him. 

But he did. 

For you. 

You thought Spencer merely tolerated you because he had to. You wouldn’t blame him, the way you treated him. So why would he do something like that for you?

You’re jarred out of your thoughts when you hear Spencer say your name. You blink back into yourself to see him standing in front of you, and you feel your face burn. 

So much for not being obvious. 

“I’m assuming you heard everything?” he asks.

You nod. You have the decency to not insult his intelligence, at least. 

“That means we can go over everything,” Spencer says, already starting to walk away. “Come on.”

You frown. You expected him to be mad at you for eavesdropping, or use what he did for you as leverage for something, or— or do anything but act normal. 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts once again as you follow him back to the living room. Spencer sits back down on the couch and you tentatively sit across from him. 

“I don’t want what I said to scare you,” he says. “Hernandez may be our lead right now, but I doubt it’ll stay that way. Elle and Morgan are going to check him out, and I’ll get another call once they do.”

You blink. Of course he’d expect you to be focused on that part—your stalker, the threat against your life, the whole reason you’re in here. Not Spencer sticking up for you. 

“Right,” you say. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Honestly? No.” Spencer sighs and shakes his head. “You heard what I said. He doesn’t fit the profile—he’s a man who made the worst choices of his life when he lost everything. If he’s been released, he might have actually changed. We’re only on him because he’s all we’ve got.”

“…Good,” you say. “Strangling wouldn’t be my top way to go.”

“You need to stop talking like that,” he says. 

“I need to stop doing a lot of things,” you respond. “Any idea how much longer we’ll be in here?”

Spencer shakes his head. “We’re here until this case is solved or our cover is blown.”

You huff. “Like if this guy finds us again?”

He nods. “But that shouldn’t happen. Elle, Gideon, Hotch, and Strauss are the only ones who know about this place, and they’re obviously sworn to silence.”

“Strauss?”

“Erin Strauss,” he says. “The BAU’s section chief.” 

“Ah.” You realize you’re still holding your mug, now empty, and you lean forward to set it on the table. “What happens if we’re made?” 

“You’ve got to stop thinking about the worst case scenarios,” Spencer says. “Pessimism doesn’t just make anxiety, depression, and paranoia worse—it can raise your blood pressure, increase your chance of cardiovascular problems, and mess with your immune system. It’s literally bad for your health.” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” you ask. “I’ve got a stalker and we didn’t realize until he’d been watching me for a month. Your team has only got one lead and you don’t even think it’s the right one. That sounds pretty negative to me.” 

“We’re still at the beginning of this case,” Spencer says. “It usually takes a few bodies for us to figure out what’s really going on and find the unsub in our regular cases.” 

You stare at him, and he seems to realize what he’s actually said. 

“Of course, there won’t be any bodies in this case!” he rushes. “You— you’re going to be perfectly fine!” 

“You’re really not great at reassurance,” you say wryly as you pick up your cup and stand up, “are you?” 

“Homicides only occur in two percent of stalking cases!” Spencer continues, his voice rising as you go into the kitchen. “A- and you might not even be the primary target! If anything, he might be going after your dad!” 

By now you’ve finished filling your mug again. You stop at the edge of the hallway when he finishes, leveling a tired look at him. 

“Thanks, Spence. That really helps.” 

You walk back to your room, and once again, you only close the door halfway to humor his concerns. 

If you’d lingered a little longer, you would have been able to see his frown. 

“Spence?” he murmurs in confusion.

-

The rest of the day goes by smoother than you thought it would, largely because Spencer keeps his distance and you don’t fight it. 

You busy yourself with more cleaning—you never finished it after your last outburst—and when you finish that, you read. You find Pride and Prejudice in the box of books the BAU provided, and it’s a good distraction. You’d much rather worry about the problems of the Bennets rather than your own. 

You end up cooking first, and you offer Spencer some of your pasta when you finish. He initially looks shocked at the olive branch, but you figure you owe him something for all he’s put up with. 

You don’t tell him that, of course. You just tell him he has five seconds to make a decision before you finish the rest, and he snaps out of it pretty quickly. 

(“I promise I’m capable of cooking,” he says as he spoons a helping into his bowl. “I— I just don’t have much time for it. We’re always out on cases so we go to a lot of restaurants, and I get take-out at home because I get home at ungodly hours.” 

“Just shut up and eat your food,” you say. “I don’t need to hear your opening statement.” 

“Actually, I wouldn’t call this an opening statement. It’s more of—” 

“Oh my god.” You pick up your bowl and walk off. “Goodbye.”

“I think it’s more of a witness testimony!” he calls out.)

A similar thing happens with dinner, where you pull out the old reliable of chicken and rice. Dressed up a bit with some of the vegetables that are somehow already on the verge of going bad, but still the same thing you’ve eaten a million times throughout your life. You don’t really feel like cooking, but you also don’t feel like having to hear Spencer set the smoke alarm again, so you settle for this. 

(“You know,” Spencer says as he cuts into a chicken thigh, “I should really be trying everything first. Just in case there’s poison or something.” 

You stifle your incredulous laugh. “How would there be poison in anything? You all bought and brought this stuff in.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But you can never be too careful.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you say. “I— I think that is the most ridiculous thing you’ve said since I’ve met you.”

“I hope you’re not challenging me,” Spencer says. “Because I can beat it very easily.”) 

Between that, he calls out on occasion to make sure you’re still alive. You think it’s stupid, but it seems to ease his mind, so you play along.

He gets a call from your dad late at night, which he then goes on to relay to you—Agents Greenaway and Morgan paid a visit to Adam Hernandez, and they weren’t able to find anything suspicious. Penelope Garcia is going to comb through everything she can find on what he’s done since his release before they officially abandon the lead, but Hernandez is on parole and hasn’t violated it once—he seems to be clean. 

You don’t know whether you’re thankful for that or not. On one hand, you want this to be over. Getting lucky on the first suspect would be great. On the other hand, having a face to all of this scares you more than not knowing. You still have the chance to deny that all of this is real, really real—when they find their guy, you can’t do that anymore. There’s actually someone out there that wants to hurt you. 

The thought crossed your mind more often than not. 

Other than that, he doesn’t really bother you. Another thing where you don’t really know if you’re thankful or not. 

It’s close to midnight, and though you haven’t been able to sleep, you’re ready to accept this as another, thankfully non eventful day. 

But then there’s a huge flash of lightning, visible even through your closed blinds, followed closely by a deafening crack of thunder, and your whole body freezes up. Your hands stop on the page you were on, and a chill runs all the way through you despite the layers of covers you’re under. 

Rain has been pittering against the house for half the night, and you can deal with rain. You can’t deal with thunderstorms. 

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. The absolute last thing you need to do is work yourself into a panic attack and get Spencer involved. You don’t think you could take the embarrassment. 

You attempt to go back to your book. You’d just arrived at Mr. Collins’ unsuccessful marriage proposal, but you can hardly focus. It doesn’t help when lightning illuminates your room once again, a clap of thunder sounding even quicker after, and your lamp flickers for a moment. This is actually the last thing you need—for the power to go out. 

A knock on your door suddenly sounds, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You’re already on edge and the storm’s just barely started. You hear Spencer call your name and ask if you’re awake, and you clear your throat before you respond. 

“What do you want?” You try to keep your voice as level as possible, but it wavers ever so slightly. 

“Can I come in?” 

You don’t want him to see you like this. “Is there something wrong?” 

“It’s the storm,” he says, and he doesn’t wait for you to respond. “I’m coming in.”

You have all of two seconds to make sure you don’t look as pathetic as you feel before Spencer walks in.

He looks like he just got out of bed. He’s wearing a Caltech crewneck and sweatpants, and his glasses are about to fall off his face. His disheveled appearance is in stark contrast to his usual image, with dress pants and button-ups and sweater vests galore. One of his hands clenches around the doorframe, and he uses the other to haphazardly push his glasses up as he sets his eyes on you.

“You need to come back into the living room,” Spencer says. 

“And good evening to you too.” You try not to look at him. You’ve learned that’s the best policy when it comes to him and those stupid glasses. “Why?”

“Because there’s a storm going on, and the power’s already flickered,” he says. “I don’t want to lose track of you if it does go out.”

“If the power goes out, we’re in the open out there,” you say. “If you’re so worried about it, you should stay in here.”

You expect a fight, but he just sighs and sits down in the chair across from your bed. “Fine.”

You frown. “That was easy.”

“I don’t feel like fighting with you over every little thing,” he says simply. “You might enjoy it, but I don’t. So I’m trying to take the path of least resistance.”

“That’s no fun,” you say.

“Well, you’re not very fun to be around,” Spencer says. He glances at you for a split second before his gaze goes back to the wall. “So.”

“Well, neither are you!” You don’t mean for your retort to come out so defensively, and you cringe as he looks back at you. It’s impossible to be around profilers without them knowing your every intent. You’d hate to know all the thoughts he’s had about you. “I might turn everything into a fight, but you turn everything into a drag.” 

“You’re doing it again,” he says. You expect him to go on, but he leaves it that. You find your brows furrowing deeper. 

“And?” 

“Maybe if you recognize your patterns, you’ll stop,” he says. “Sometimes people don’t realize they're doing something until it’s pointed out to them.” 

You huff. “How many times do I have to tell you not to psychoanalyze me?” 

“I don’t choose to do it,” Spencer says. You don’t miss the slight bite behind his words, and it almost makes you smile. As much as he doesn’t want to give you a fight, he can’t really help himself. You tend to bring out the worst in people. “It just happens in my brain automatically.” 

“Try to hold back,” you say. “It—”

Your words die in your throat with another crash of thunder, almost simultaneous with the lightning. It shakes the whole house, and you can’t help the full body flinch that wracks you, almost freezing completely. The power flickers again, and then it goes out altogether. You don’t even hold back your groan of annoyance. 

“Of course,” you grit out. “Of fucking course.” 

“Are you okay?” You look at him despite yourself, and even in the dark you can see the concern in his eyes. It makes your hands clench into fists beneath the sheets.

“Fine,” you mutter. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer frowns. “Of course it does.”

You scoff. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Why would it not matter?” he asks incredulously. “You— you’re clearly distressed, and holding it back isn’t helping anyone.” 

“Maybe I just like silence.” 

“Well, you clearly don’t like storms.” 

“How’d you figure that one, genius?” you mutter. You wrap your arms around yourself and pull your knees up to your chest, trying to lessen the sudden chill you feel. 

“...Normally, I would give you a real answer,” Spencer says. “But based on the lecture you just gave me—” 

“You figured right,” you snap. It only takes a second—and those stupid, soft eyes of his to dart away again—for you to feel… bad. 

He sighs and shakes his head as he stands up. “I’m going to get a candle. Stay put.” 

You tense as he walks out. Your whole body does, actually. You don’t know what it is about him or those stupid eyes that always manage to skirt out sympathy from you. 

You should feel gratified. At the start of this, you wanted to push Spencer to his limits—he’s too nice for his own good, and you wanted him to not only give you a more concrete reason to hate him, but get a reason to hate you back. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with this one-sided rivalry with the apparent saint of the BAU. 

But you don’t. You feel bad, and you hate it. You hate it more than any reasonable person should, but then again—you’ve never been reasonable. 

Spencer comes back in sooner rather than later, two lit candles in his hands. You can see the on-sale sticker plastered on the side of both, and you suppress a laugh. It’s something so small but so typical. 

“One’s vanilla, and one is,” he squints as he shifts it in his hand to read, “beach escape. What does a beach escape even smell like?” He shakes his head, then looks at you. “Which one do you—” 

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. You blurt it out before you can even stop yourself. 

This time, it’s Spencer’s turn to frown. His face is illuminated from beneath by the candlelight and it gives him an almost haunting beauty, highlighted with yellow and white along his jawline and cheekbones. The flames are mirrored in the lenses of his glasses. “For what?” 

“For snapping.” You almost snap at him again out of instinct, and you let out a long, loose sigh in an effort to try and chill out for once. “Sorry. Again.” 

“Oh.” He stands there for a moment holding the two candles, and it could be a laughable sight were you not near consumed with guilt. “Uh— it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Fine,” he says, “it’s not. Which candle do you want?” 

“Which one do you want?” 

“This isn’t where you have to start the ‘being nice to me’ thing,” Spencer says. “They’re kind of starting to burn my hands.” 

“Beach escape,” you say. He nods and sets it on your bedside table, then sits back down in his chair after placing the vanilla one in the window sill. 

“You… seem a little pent up,” Spencer says after letting the silence dwell for a beat. His shoulders have relaxed some, not hunched up almost to his ears. Small victories, at least.

“I don’t talk about my emotions much,” you respond in equal fashion. “It’s not really my thing.” 

He shrugs. “Why not start now?” 

You laugh. “Why would I ever start now?” 

“You said it yourself,” he says. “I have a psychology degree. I’m a good listener.”

“You interrupt me all the time to say stuff.”

“You interrupt me all the time too, so I guess we’re even.” Spencer shifts in his chair. “Besides, I can listen when it’s important. And this is.”

You stare at him. He stares back. 

He has beautiful eyes even in the dark, and you hate that you can’t deny it. Deep brown like the oaks surrounding this place, that shine like pools of honey in the firelight, that always seem to soften just so when he looks at you.

You break first. You have to look away. You always have to look away. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you manage. “I was a latchkey kid. Storms happened a lot when I was home alone and they scared me. I guess they still do. Happy?” 

“Believe it or not, your pain doesn’t make me happy,” Spencer says. 

“I didn’t think it did,” you say, trying your best to snap. 

He nods. “So we’re in agreement?” 

“I—” you pause, a slight frown creasing your brows. “I guess.” 

Spencer nods again, and he leans forward a bit. “Wasn’t that a lot better than fighting with me, getting upset, and isolating yourself?” 

You scowl. “Don’t you dare therapize me.” 

“It’s hard not to,” Spencer says. “Especially when you seem determined to make our conversations one-sided.” 

You scoff. “I do not.” 

“You act like talking to me is a physical pain.” He crosses his arms. “You locked yourself in the bathroom last night to avoid talking to me.” 

“I locked myself in the bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my mind in front of you,” you say. “Just because I know everything about you doesn’t mean I want you to know everything about me.” 

Spencer scoffs. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“My dad talks about you more than you think,” you say. “About your whole team—but especially you.”

“Where am I from?” he asks. 

“Vegas,” you say. “He mentions it every time you beat him at cards.”

“That— that doesn’t really matter,” he says. “I know you’re from Fairfax.” 

“The worst place in the world,” you say emphatically. You can’t believe you’ve been stuck in NoVa your whole life. “Doesn’t count, though. You’re an FBI agent—you’re supposed to know things like this.” 

“So it counts when you know it, but it doesn’t count when I do?” Spencer asks. 

You nod. “I’ve heard about Penelope Garcia. I’m more surprised you don’t know everything about me by now.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Garcia can find anything. Gideon really did a good j—” 

He stops in the middle of his sentence, his eyes widening slightly as he clamps his mouth shut. 

“What?” You lean forward, looking him in the eye. “He did a good job doing what?” 

“I don’t want to start another argument,” he says. 

“Oh, poor you.” You don’t think you could sound more sarcastic if you tried. “You don’t want to hear me talk about my absent father that didn’t have time for me because he was too busy with you.” You glance away. “You don’t know what it feels like.” 

“There’s something you don’t know about me then,” Spencer says. “Because I do.” 

“Unless your dad’s ignored you all his life in favor of his job and the stray genius he found there, you really don’t.” 

“My dad left when I was a kid because he couldn’t deal with my mom’s schizophrenia,” Spencer retorts. His words get you to look right back at him—they’re not overly sharp or exceedingly soft, just matter-of-fact. “I haven’t seen him since. So you’re right—I don’t know exactly what it’s like, but I know a hell of a lot more than you think.” 

Regret hits you immediately, sour and spiny as it settles in your chest. You’ve been an asshole to him this whole time, and all along he’s held this inside of him? All along, you’ve been accusing him of stealing your life from you when he’s lost more than you have. 

For a moment, you can only stare at him, at a loss for words. He meets your eyes in equal measure. You might know a lot about Spencer Reid, but you’re quickly realizing you don’t know Spencer Reid. 

“Guess we’re a lot more similar than you thought,” he says in your silence. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you murmur, finally managing to muster up words. “That’s awful. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“No one does,” he shrugs. This time, he’s the one to look away. “But it is what it is.” 

“How can you just say that?” you ask. You lean forward, a frown creasing your brows. “How are you not just— just angry all the time? That your dad doesn’t give a fuck about you or your mom?” 

“For a while, I was.” He chuckles, but there’s no heart in it. “I was angry at everyone. My dad, my mom, the adults around me— I hated myself most of all. It’s part of the reason I was so good in school. I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to deal with it, so I studied as hard as I could, read as much as humanly possible.” He smiles thinly at nothing in particular. “Turns out I’m very good at avoiding things when I want to.” 

You shake your head with a scoff. “You’re a better person than I am. I would have hunted him down by now and given him a piece of my mind.” 

“It’s not worth it.” Spencer looks back at you. “He decided he didn’t want to be a part of my life. I’m not going to reward him by letting him ruin it when he’s not even here.” 

Is that what you’re doing? Letting your dad ruin your life by letting him occupy every part of it even when he’s not there? He’s influenced every part of your life, every part of you, and he hasn’t been here for half of it. Sometimes you’re surprised he didn’t miss your birth.

Another flash of lightning, another crack of thunder. You tense every muscle in your body to stop yourself from flinching as hard in front of Spencer. You think he notices anyway.  

“I’ve been angry at my dad since I was a kid,” you say once you’ve recovered. “He missed my dance recitals and my gymnastics meets and my soccer games, but he signed the checks for all of the payments. He told me to take honors and AP classes and missed the ceremonies for the awards. He was never there for anything that mattered, but—” you laugh again, and you blink back the tears— “but he waited until I was eighteen to get a divorce so I wouldn’t have to deal with a custody battle.” 

You bite down hard on your lip to force them back even harder as you look at Spencer. “Isn’t that fucked up? Neither of them have been there for us, but they’ve still shaped every part of us with their absence. We can’t escape it even when they’re not here, because them not being here is what caused it.” 

“I refuse to give him that much power,” Spencer says. “My dad left. He chose to leave. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, so I don’t want anything to do with him. I mean, I’m an FBI agent. I work with some of the best profilers in the world. I could find him if I wanted to, but I’m not going to waste my time chasing some pipe dream of a father that doesn’t exist.” 

“Your situation is different, though.” Both his eyes and tone soften, and something inside you stirs. “The only break I know Gideon’s taken was that six month medical leave that was practically forced on him. I think it would take an actual, life-threatening injury to get him to take another one. It’s a lot different having someone around and just… being neglected.”

“I’ve just always felt like such an asshole for it,” you mutter. “You all save lives every day. You’ve taken down a thousand sick criminals.” You shake your head with another mirthless laugh. “My dad saves women like me every day, gives them the chance to see their fathers again, and I’m mad at him because— because he won’t meet me for brunch? Because he missed my school band concerts?” 

“It’s not that simple,” Spencer says. “It’s never that simple. You don’t need to feel bad for hating him, but you also don’t need to feel bad for loving him, too.” 

You scoff. “There you go again with the psychology degree.” 

“It’s the truth,” he says. “Just because you feel rightfully angry doesn’t mean you don’t still love him. It’s part of the reason why you’re so conflicted about him.” He gave you a wry smile. “It makes everything a lot more complicated, doesn’t it?”

You shift in your bed. “Far cry from everything you told me before all this started.” 

“We see completely different sides of Gideon,” Spencer says. “I’m just… ashamed that it took me so long to believe you about all of it.” 

You huff a laugh. “I’m the one that should be ashamed. I thought you had this— this perfect life, with my dad loving you on top of it. That’s why I hated you so much.” 

He perks up. “Hated? As in, past tense? As in, you don’t hate me anymore?” 

You try to bite back your smile. You barely succeed. “Call it a truce.” 

Spencer grins and nudges his glasses back into place once again. “This might be my favorite truce since 1914.” 

“Christmas Truce,” you nod. “Good one.” 

“You know it?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I’m a teacher.” 

Spencer blinks. “You— you are?” 

“Why is that such a surprise?” you ask. 

“You’re so…”

“Mean to you?” You chuckle. “Trust me, I’m not like this with my kids. My job is one of the parts of my life that I’m actually happy with.” 

“...Huh.” Spencer smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back, subconsciously. “You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure,” you nod. “Maybe you can tell me about everything you do sometime.” 

“You’re sure you won’t get bored?” he asks. “You might not realize, but I have a tendency to rant.” 

You laugh. “Part of our truce.” 

This time, he nods. “Cool. That— that’s cool.” 

You roll your eyes as you look away, but your smile betrays you once again. Your gaze snaps over to the lamp as it flickers back on, and you realize you haven’t heard any thunder in a while. 

“Looks like the storm’s passed.” Spencer separates two of the window blinds with his fingers and peers through. You’ve never really focused on his hands like you do now—with the way you feel your face burn, it’s probably a good thing. You look away as soon as possible. “Just rain, now.” 

“Good,” you say, and you let out a yawn. “All our talking tired me out.” 

“Good,” he echoes as he picks his candle up from the window pane. “You should get eight hours of sleep a night, and I know for a fact you don’t.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, professor.” 

“You’re the teacher here,” he says. “I should be saying that to you.” 

“And yet you’re so much more annoying than I could ever be,” you muse. 

“Does our truce include this?” 

“Naturally.”

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head. He starts walking to the doorway, but you speak up before he can leave. 

“Night, Spencer.” You pause as you bite the inside of your lip, then continue before you can stop yourself. “I really enjoyed talking with you.” 

He hesitates for a moment, his hand lingering on the doorframe. Then he bids you goodnight in the same fashion, actually saying your name. “I did too.”

It makes your heart skip a beat. 

Spencer closes the door behind him, and you find yourself staring at the wood long after he’s gone. You jolt when you finally come back into yourself, and you shake your head to get out of the haze. 

You glance at the clock on your bedside table, and blink when you realize it’s almost 1:30. You really do need to get to bed. 

The smoke makes you cough as you blow your candle out, and you wave a hand around to dispel it before you turn the lamp off. You lay down and pull the sheets up around you. You end up having to switch positions at least five times before you start to get comfortable. 

But the strangest thing is plaguing you despite your restlessness. You were freezing before the storm started, even when the electricity was working, but now there’s a strange warmth attempting to permeate within you. It almost helps you relax. 

The room feels a lot smaller without him in it. 

You exhale, long, slow, and deep as you close your eyes. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air.

You hope you don’t dream tonight. 

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat Reader

Notes: this is part 9 to lucid dreams.

Warnings ⚠️: child neglect.

As you step through the blue portal memories of your life that lead up to this exact moment ,flash through your mind.

Some memories good....like when you first met Jason or when you had gotten taller then your mother.

And some memories bad... like when your mother forgot your birthday... or when your grandmother died...

Each memory more painfulthen the last. And for a moment you begin wondering if you even had good memories from gotham.

But you do.... and each good memory has one thing in common.

Jason.

Your jason the one who stood by you through everything..

The jason who used to cry thinking you'd leave him. Just like his mother.

The jason who'd you comfort and not only promise but pinky promise that you'd never leave him.

The same jason who you left in tears.

Your jason.

Your brother.

Jason what was kept you alive. Or atleast that's what it felt like. Every milestone every journey jason was there.... and now he wasn't.

Not because he didn't want to be. But because you left him. This is a choice you made.

A choice you'll have to live with.

So you push your guilt and regret away as your feet finally touch the ground of the place you left so many years ago.

The soft snow crunches under your shoes and it's cold. No, it's freezing. It always is here.

Any normal person would probably freeze but your body is quick to adjust to the weather. You were born here this is natural to you.

The cold never really bothered you anyway do to your fire abilities.

Standing right infront of you is two men. Your father's soldiers no doubt. They were his symbol of the dragon across their chest.

Their tall and old. But you can tell their strong. But you suppose they have to be strong.

Because this world isn't kind to anything weak.

The have four horses with them. Two for you and Kion and two for them. Kion pulls you with him towards them as he walks. They bow out of respect.

"Welcome princess." They say in sync.

Princess....it's been so long since you've been called that. And truthfully you don't want that title but it's yours to bare. So you nod your head.

Kion helps you as you get onto the horse. It's a big horse and the color is a perfect black. It's a far nicer horse then what the two other soldiers will be riding.

Once Kion sees your safely on the horse he gets on his. Kion leads the way and your horse follows in suit.

As if your horse wasn't even listening to you but to Kion. Kions horse slows down so that your horse matches its pace perfectly.

Riding side by side ,kion begins speaking. "You made the right decision sister..this is where you belong. This is your home." He says.

And glancing around the snowy forest and tall trees you feel like he's right....this is where you belong. This is your home.

You ride your horse in silence for a few minutes taking in his words and their truth. 

    "This is my home...." You repeat quietly testing the words on your tongue..... but you can't help but miss what you left behind... No, you miss who you left behind.

    And like he always does Kion senses your distress.

"Regret weighs down the mind ,sister....Don't regret what's already done. It's pointless." Kion says and his words are true. But they still don't help.

     "You sound like father." You say because you know that's where he got it from.

      

     "Father, is wise sister... you should take what he says seriously. " he says with a stern voice. He obviously didn't understand that you were trying to make a joke. But Jason would've.......

   "I always do. " You say quietly. The pit of regret in your stomach growing.

          "Father won't be there to welcome you when we arrive..... he's out on a short trip...he'll be back by morning." He assured almost ashamed that your father won't be there.

    You smile sheepishly knowing the reason.

       "He didn't think I would come?" You question already knowing the answer.

   

  "It's been years sister...he didn't doubt you.. he just doubted what your mother could've made you into." Kion says and by the way he says it you can tell. He believed the same thing.

      "My mother didn't turn me into anything." You say and the atmosphere gets so tense that even the horses under you can feel it.

     One soldiers behind you speak up trying to ease the tension.  "Your brother means no disrespect princess...but everyone's glad to know that your loyalty lays with us." One says. But you stay silent still angry with kions words.

Did everyone here think you're a toy? Or clay that could be molded into anything?

You sigh knowing that that's what they probably think. Because here it's common...

Here it's common for your parents to decide exactly what kind of person you become.

      "Make no mistake the princesses loyalty lays with her kin." Kion says almost possessively and your hands clench the ranes of the horse.

     "Of course my prince." The soldiers say and you can tell their scared. Their scared of your brother.

Because of what he is. Who he is....did they fear you just the same? You ask yourself.

The ride to your village is quiet other then the sound of your horses hooves walking.

It's snowing lightly casting a beautiful scenery if only the silence wasn't so tense.....

After a while of riding your horse into the snowy forest you're greeted with the walls that you were raised in...

The walls that you had once escaped. And now you welcome them....?

It's a strange feeling. Somethings have changed. You've changed. You've matured.

Grown mentally and physically.

Your no longer the small girl who'd your mentors hit when you'd make a mistake.

No, now. Your strong. And much likely stronger then any of your past mentors.

The walls around your village are tall. And you can't help but feel like there trapping you in as the big gate closes behind you.

The people in your village both old and young are formed into a line in both sides of the path that leads straight toward the palace.

The all bow as you pass them on your horse. You look at them studying each one of them as your ride your horse passes them.

Your peoples eyes watch you. Study you right back. Taking in every little detail about you.

Your clan was nothing if not observant.

You can see there already whispering things about. But you don't care anymore if it's good or bad. Or maybe....deep down you do.

"This is your home sister... your legacy." Kion say and his chin is held high as you both ride your horses through the path.

Like a prince.

He is a prince.

.....he's wrong. This is his legacy.....not yours.

Where do you belong?

'Regret weighs down the mind...don't regret something you can't change.' Kions words stick to you. They always will....

The moon shine brightly tonight and it's rays hit the palace peaceful eliminating the beauty of this place.

Mounting off of your horse with ease. You sigh. And walk up the stairs of the tall ancient palace.

It's been so long since last walked the halls...but you remember each one.

The colors on the walls haven't faded...and the walls carry something deeper than color.

Memories...they carry memories.

Most of fighting, learning or rare occasions you'd take a walk with your father.

"Dinner is being prepared..." kion says as you walk through the halls.

"I'm not hungry" You say and you continue walking through the halls of the palace ignoring kions protest for you to eat.

Eventually you do reach the place you've been dying to see.... your room.

It's smaller then you remember and all of your stuff sits untouched. Almost as if you left it yesterday. But no, you left it years ago....

It's been cleaned there's not a spot of dust to be seen. But everything in perfect place.

Your pencil lays on your desk and so does your old school work. Some of your drawings lay on the desk too.

All memories you thought you forgot about. You sit on the big bed. Because despite your small room it still had a big bed.

You were royalty after all.

This bed is way softer then the small bed you had in gotham. It doesn't creak and it's springs aren't broken.

And spriseingly it's warm...

Laying down on the soft bed kion sighs. And finally moves away from the door frame.

"This room isn't big enough for you. I'll have you a room prepared." He says turning away but he stops as he hears your protest.

"I like this room....I'll stay in this room."

"I'm not asking sister." He says defensively almost like it pains him to see you in a room that isn't to his taste.

Because it does.

"Neither was I." Your voice is calm as you lay on your bed. But he knows you won't back down.

So he sighs and decides to let it go.

"As you wish...are you certain you aren't hungry?" He asks and you can tell he's still disappointed that you willing want to stay in this room.

But his concern out ways his disappointment.

"Positive." You reply. Not missing a beat.

"Alright then...goodnight sister.." He mumbles quietly.

"Goodnight Kion..." You say quietly deep in your thoughts.

But you catch how he stays for a moment longer wanting you to say something else.

Something more.

So you speak up quietly but Kion catches your words.

Because he's been dying to hear them.

"I love you brother...." Your voice is no louder then a whisper and you almost think he doesn't hear them.

But when you sit up to see him he smiles.... and quickly wipes his eyes..

He's crying..because you said you loved him?

You had honestly said those words out of pressure. But you can tell how much they mean to him.

To you he was crying because you had said you loved him. But to him you had not only said you loved him.

But you called him your brother...

Your brother.

You had never called him that. Never.

Always Kion. Never brother.

Despite his tears you can see he's happy. It's as of the weight he's been carrying has finally been lifted.

And your about to stand up to hug him. And it probably would've been an awkward hug like before.

But before you can even stand up Kion speaks up.

"I love you too ,sister.......very much." His voice is small... and tender. Kind of like him.

He's walks away before you can stand.

You can't see him but he's smiling like an absolute idiot. But he doesn't care...because you love him.

You actually love him.

Him.

He's your brother. Not jason.

You lay back down on your bed drifting between sleep and worry. You feel uncomfortable on your bed.

It feels almost like it's not yours. But it is...

Many worries cloud your mind as you remain laying down. Each worse then the last.

What if your father dislikes you? No, he wants you here..he needs to here... right?

What if he's disappointed in your fighting abilities? No, your strong. You know pretty much everything...right?

What if you stutter when you see him. You know how much he hated when you used to stutter out of fear.

No, your diffrent now....stronger...right?

You know deep down these worries are useless think about. But you can't help yourself.

Tomorrow you'd see the man you ran away from. So many years ago.

Soon enough your mind does eventually give into sleep......tomorrow you'd see someone that you've tried to pretend that you've hated for so long...the man who you've seen in the mirror all your life.

The man who raised you. Made you.

The man that despite your past you care for deeply.. you love deeply...... your father...

Thanks for reading! All comments and likes are very much appreciated! They really keep me writing! 💗💗

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz @vanessa-boo @jellyedkazoo @chinxinsomnia @sillysealsies @nervousalpacalady @gwyneveire @simpingpandas @crazycaoticsimp @nickey-diano

[kyseya]

Yan! Mindreader x reader

Imagine how annoying it would be if your obsessed stalker had the ability to read your mind.

He was a part of your life before you even knew of his existence. Every day, he would follow you around and listen to your thoughts; the good, the bad, the angry and the sad ones.

He wished to know all there is to know about you and what better way was there than to intrude on your most inner, private feelings?

Yan! Mindreader always thought his power was a curse he’d gotten the misfortune of being born with. All day and night he’d been forced to hear everything peaople were thinking. That’s how he got to know his parents hated living together and his friends only saw him as a piggy bank. No one truly cared for him. Anyone who believe they’d want this power is wrong. All it has done is bring him misery. If he had the option to be normal he wouldn’t hesitate.

Then came you. You barged into his life without warning and set his whole body on fire- but in a good sorta way. You made him feel all tingly and light, like he could fly. You were one of a kind; nothing like the others who were selfish, vain and completely fake.

He knew. After all, he could read your mind.

Slowly he introduced himself into your life. It was subtle and natural, just like he’d prepared. He didn’t want to scare you. It was quite easy to fabricate running into each other and after it happened on plenty occasions you joked about it being fate. You saw him at the grocery store, in your apartment building-apparently he’s moved in just next door- and he even visits the same coffee shop as you do! He wanted to scream ‘yes!’, in agreement, it was indeed fated for you to be together.

It wasn’t after too many charming, well-practiced smiles and flirtatious hints that he received the greatest gift of all; you, on your back in his bed with him thrusting vigorously into your warm heat. Oh it was simply heaven. Hearing your moans whilst simultaneously listening in on your thoughts- they were far from disappointing. That was one of the only times he’s blessed his mind reading ability. Thanks to it he knows all your kinks, desires and needs, which he doesn’t hesitate to use to his advantage.

He’d be the perfect boyfriend. You will never want anyone other than him ever. Only he truly knows you and that includes parts if yourself you’ve hidden away or have never acknowledge.

Isn’t he your perfect fit?

———-

Sunlight pours into the room and wakes you up. You don’t want to. Waking up means dealing with reality and its shitty way of treating you. You resolve to just ignore the warm presence behind you and pretend to still be asleep. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.”

Damn it.

“You can’t hide it, I can tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re conscious. Although I like it when your brain imagines me naked and on top of you subconsciously, I prefer you being awake and in control of those scenarios. It makes me feel good knowing I’m wanted and I’m not sure your dirty dreams actually count.” He teased whilst placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder.

Fuck this guy. It was just your stupid brain working against you and he had the nerve to make it seem like you have any affection for him.

“You hurt me wit your words. Where were these feelings yesterday when I took you deeply agai-“

You hit him in the face with your pillow in order to shut him up. You wouldn’t let him bring up anymore of your shame. You knew it was bad but since you were stuck with this man-forever presumably- you didn’t know what else to do. There was no escaping since he would just pick up any plan you had immediately. Hell, you doubted you’d even get past having the thought ‘escape’ in your head before he goes ballistic.

Besides, you couldn’t help but to admit no one had made you feel as good as he had. It killed your soul to think it but it was true.

“Hmm, I like the thought of that. Thank you. I’ll also let you know that you feel just as good and pleasure me endlessly~”

Seriously, fuck this guy.

[sweetcherriexs]

good girl; b.e.

smut...

It had started innocently enough. billie was on tour, thousands of miles away, and the distance was starting to wear on both of you. you’d been texting throughout the day, little updates about your lives, but the conversation had taken a turn after dinner when billie sent a photo of herself backstage. She was leaning against a wall, all sweaty with hair stuck to her forehead and eyes hooded. she had that damn eyeliner on that made your pussy throbb and pulsate with need each time you saw her wearing it. the picture was casual, but the look on her face was anything but.

you had responded immediately. you’re killing me, bils. I can’t handle how fucking hot you are.

billie’s reply came swiftly. I know. and I know you’re lying in our bed, thinking about me.

how do you always know? you had typed back, cheeks flushing.

because I know you, baby. I know how bad you want me right now. for me to be inside you, for my mouth on your wet pussy

The flirting escalated quickly. billie’s messages became more explicit, her words laced with the kind of confidence that only she could pull off.

I’m thinking about how soft your skin feels under my hands. how you whimper when I kiss your neck. how you beg for my cock to be inside your pussy.

your fingers trembled as you typed. I miss your touch. I miss the way you make me feel. fuck, bils, please.

then tell me what you’re doing right now, billie pressed.

you hesitated, heart pounding. I’m in bed… thinking about you.

Are you touching yourself? billie’s message was direct, leaving no room for evasion.

your breath hitched. not yet

mm, will you?

you gulped at the message, hand itching to touch your pussy yes

send me a picture, pretty

The request made your stomach flip. you'd done this before, but it still felt daring—exhilarating. you propped your phone up, took a moment to adjust the lighting, and snapped a photo. your skin was flushed, hand resting on your thigh, and your lips parted. your sent it quickly without overthinking.

billie’s response was immediate. fuck, baby, you’re youre so hot. I wish I could be there to take care of you.

then tell me what you’d do, you typed back, fingers moving faster now, eager to know what billie's thinking about doing to you.

call me.

you didn't hesitate, pressing the call button in a second and she accepted the call immediately, her smooth voice ringing out "hey, baby" she mused, a smirk noticeable in her tone.

"hey, bils..." you panted out, breath heavy even though you haven't done anything. "tell me, please" you begged, already so worked up and desperate. you heard her chuckle on the other line before she spoke again;

"I’d start by kissing you. softly at first, just to tease you. then I’d bite your lip, just hard enough to make you gasp. would you like that?"

“yes,” your breathed, your free hand drifting lower.

“and then I’d move down your neck, leaving marks where only I can see them. I’d make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

you moaned, fingers brushing against yourself through your pants. “billie…”

"ah- ah - ah... mm, I want you to strip for me, slowly. take off those clothes, pretty" billie's voice was like velvet, commanding yet sensual.

obediently, you began to undress, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. billie smirked to herself, listening to your eager fumbling.

"That's my good girl. Now, slide those pants down... god i wish i could see you." billie's words were like a drug, sending a rush of heat between your thighs.

you complied, your movements becoming more fluid as you reveled in her instructions. the cool air caressed your naked skin, and you shivered, not from the temperature but from the intensity of her gaze, even though she was miles away. when the cool air of you and billie's bedroom hit your drenched pussy, you gasped the slightest bit, biting your lip in anticipation.

"good... now lie back" she instructs and you comply, shifting back and lying down with a shaky breath. "now, touch yourself, baby. slide your fingers down and tease that clit. I want to hear you moan for me." billie's voice was hoarse with desire, and you could almost feel her breath on your neck.

your fingers trembled as you brought them to your core, circling your clit gently at first, then with increasing pressure. "fuck, billie!" you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut at the sensation. "fuck fuc-... mmm, yes, yes. please-" you gasped out almost incoherent phrases.

"that's it, baby. rub that pretty pussy. imagine its my fingers, hmm? stroking you, making you wetter." billie's words were a symphony of filth, and you were her willing conductor.

you moaned, your fingers working feverishly, picturing billie's long, slender digits joining yours, claiming your pleasure as her own.

“keep going, baby,” billie encouraged, her voice a mix of tenderness and authority. “tell me how it feels.”

“so-... so good, fuck." you moaned "I wish it was your hand, though. your mouth.”

billie’s exhale was sharp, as she drank in your words “I’d make you come so hard, pretty, I’d take my time, make you beg for it,"

your hips lifted off the bed, body craving the release only billie could give you. “please…”

"stop" you whined at the single command, but your body knew better, obeying her immediately. "good girl. touch your pretty tits"

you inhaled deeply, moving your wet hand up your body until it reached the plush mounds on your chest, squeezing them.

"that's right, baby. imagine my fingers playing with your nipples, pinching and rolling them between my thumbs and forefingers."

you whimpered again, rolling your hardened nipples between your fingers. tugging, rolling, repeat and anything in-between as you let out soft gasps.

your fingers slipped deeper between your folds, slick with desire, and you moaned as you imagined billie's hand moving in unison with yours, claiming your pleasure as her own.

"that's it, baby. you're doing so good. such a good girl" her voice only intensified the burn in your stomach further, breath coming in short gasps as your fingers pumped in and out of your sopping cunt, the sound of the wet squelching noticeable through the phone as your chest rose and fell with each thrust of your fingers.

"bils... bils- fuck, baby-" you moaned, rutting against your own hand. "I- shit, please-" your wrist was burning, but you couldn't stop. your fingers were plunging in and out of your wet pussy at an erratic pace, desperate and needy for release. for billie's touch.

“you sound so pretty when you’re like this,” billie murmured. “so desperate for me. I love hearing you fall apart.”

"I'm gon- please-... fuck, fuck... I'm gonna cum-" you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you imagined billie's fingers being the ones fucking you so good. "can-... can I? please, please" you panted, feeling your clit throb, needy for a touch as the knot in the bottom of your belly threatened to snap any second now.

billie hummed, the sound spurring your orgasm on even more and you whimpered. "I don't know, baby... can you?"

"please-" you gasp out again " I've been a good girl, bils. please-.."

billie smirked, letting out a breath before speaking. "cum for me, pretty girl. cum all over your own hand as you imagine it's mine"

the coil snapped, making you gasp loudly, back arching off the bed as you surrendered to the pleasure, your body convulsing as you climaxed, your cries echoing through the night. your body tensed as waves of pleasure crashed over you and you cried out billie’s name.

as you lay panting, Billie's soft laughter filled your ears. "Gosh I wish I was there... tasting your sensitive little pussy" she muttered, breath noticeably heavy and her voice husky.

"yeah?" you breathed out, your heart still pounding in your ears. "I'll do it for you-..." you said and your head came up to your lips, taking your drenched fingers into your mouth and moaning around them, pushing them deeper as you gagged around them before pulling it out.

"fuck" billie huffed "do you taste good, baby? hmm? tell me" she asked, her voice dropping an octave as the desire caught up to her.

"yes, yes I do" you nodded, though she can't see. "wish I was sucking your cock though" you heard billie groan on the other line, then some rustling before she spoke again.

"keep it up, pretty. it's my turn"

[wlfchnlv3r]

DIRTY MIND

Non idol! Hyunjin x bimbo girl! Fem reader

Synopsis: Hyunjin had a bad day at college and let his anger flow on you.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: fuck- that’s some nasty shit. MDNI!!!❌🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞, blowjob, face fucking!!!! Hyunjin is rude!!

Note: sorry for being absent for so long :(

Hyunjin had a bad day, his art professor rejected one of his project and he has to let his anger flow on someone. That someone is you, for that reason you are now kneel in front of him.

He is setting his camera on the bed near him, in order to frame you.

Your lips are parted with anticipation noticing his unbuttoned pants.

Hyunjin finally place the camera and start to lower his boxer freeing his already hard cock.

He smirks wickedly at your parted lips, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your throat, "Look at you... lips all parted, ready for your my cock..." your boyfriend murmurs darkly, his other hand gripping his throbbing length. He rubs the tip against your lips teasingly, smearing pre-cum across them.

"Dirty girl... you want my cum straight from the tap?" Hyunjin asks huskily, his smirk growing.

He slides the tip of his dick into your open mouth.

You instinctively close you eyes, feeling the salty liquid.

He grins darkly and grip the back of your head possessively, his thumb still pressing against your windpipe, "That's it, baby... take my dick like a good little slut..." he murmurs approvingly, his hips starting to move slowly.

He fucks your mouth gently at first, watching your throat bulge with his size, "Look at you... so innocent with those pretty eyes closed...".

Tears starts to run down your cheeks from the effort.

Hyunjin moans as he sees tears sliding down your cheeks, your eyes still closed. He loves the way his big dick stretches your tiny mouth. Your boyfriend starts to fuck your face faster, his length hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, “So cute when you cry from taking my dick..." he murmurs darkly, his other hand squeezing your neck gently. "You like choking on my thick cock, baby?" he asks softly, his hips snapping forward violently.

You cry out feeling his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Hyunjin chuckles, his length throbbing in your mouth. He loves the way your voice vibrates around his dick, the way your tears fall onto his shaft. Your boyfriend starts to facefuck you harder, his balls slapping against your chin with each thrust, "Yeah, cry for me, you pretty little thing..." He growls, his thumb pressing harder against your windpipe.

Hyunjin can feel you struggling to breathe, your eyes watering more.

He watches your mouth try to take his length, your eyes watering beautifully.

Your boyfriend realizes you're not using your hands to push him away, so he takes that as you enjoying being facefucked. He grins darkly, his hips snapping forward faster.

He sees your boobs bouncing softly with each thrust.

He calls softly, his hips never stopping. "Answer one question." his thumb presses harder against your neck.

He pauses his thrusts momentarily, allowing you to catch a small breath. His thumb remains pressed against your neck, controlling your airway slightly.

"Do you love having your throat fucked, baby, ?" Hyunjin asks softly, his eyes gleaming wickedly. He watches your watery eyes blink up at him, your lips swollen and glistening around his shaft. "Answer looking at the camera…”

You are not even able to talk, trying to catch your breath you just nod.

He grins at your nod, his hips starting to move again, “such a perfect little cockwhore..." your boyfriend mutters approvingly, fucking your face faster.

"Look at my beautiful little slut... taking me so well..." he presses his thumb harder against your windpipe, restricting your airflow slightly, "So innocent but such a dirty little whore when my cock's in your mouth..." Hyunjin watches as more tears slide down your face, his length throbbing.

You cry out again, with your eyes shout and your voice muffled by his dick.

“Such a good girl” he says, feeling your throat convulse beautifully around his length.

Your boyfriend watches your closed eyes, your tears sliding down your face. His hips snap forward brutally, hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. "Am I fucking your face good, huh? Making such a pretty little cocksucker out of you..." Hyunjin thumb presses harder against your windpipe.

"Almost there, baby... gonna cum all down your pretty face..." He warns softly, fucking your mouth faster.

Your boyfriend hips slam forward one last time as he reaches his peak, pulling out of your mouth and releasing hot streams of cum directly onto your face.

You gasp in search of breath feeling his hot cum all over your face.

Hyunjin keeps his thumb pressed against your neck, watching his seed mark your pretty cheeks and innocent eyes, “Fuck... look at my beautiful little baby.." he whispers, enjoying the sight of his release mixing with your tears, "I marked your face so good, baby..."

You blink a few times, astrand of saliva and cum connects your lip to his tip before breaking.

"Perfect little cum-covered whore..." Hyunjin traces the streaks of his release on your face with his dick head, smearing it.

He takes the camera in his hand holding it in front of your face, "Look at this beautiful little cumslut..." your boyfriend says into the camera, his voice low and husky, "My baby's face is covered in my cum, her pretty eyes all teary and streaked with my release..." he moves the camera to show your marked face, then back to himself, "And she's still so innocent-looking, despite being a dirty little cockwhore..." Hyunjin pauses and smirks as he reviews the video, satisfied with how it captured your thoroughly used and marked face.

"Goddamn, you look gorgeous like this..." your boyfriend murmurs, more to himself than to you. He sets the phone down and grabs your chin roughly, turning your face side to side. "Such a perfect little cum-canvus...".

After a moment Hyunjin throw the camera on the bed and help you to stand on your feet, “Well, let’s clean you up baby, you did so good”

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere @justwonder113 @yerijaksel

[g4rvez-r3id]

Book Lovers

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Spencer sees you at a bookstore and buys you a book just to be able to start a conversation with you.

Category: Fluff!

Warnings: spencer being down bad for reader, spencer also being a shy lil geek, nothing bad, just pure fluff!

Author’s Note: while i work on trying to get part three of “anything for ellie” out, enjoy this little blurb lol i also wanted to add “out on a limb” mostly because i’m reading this book rn and yeaaaa

Spencer did not want to be painted like a stalker. But the way he was acting was definitely stalker-like. He’d seen you at the bookstore more times than he could count. And often times, he found himself in the same section as you. And he didn’t even like romance books.

You’d first caught his eye when he’d taken a trip to his local bookstore. He’d been passing by the romance section, when he saw you standing there, browsing through books. He’d stopped in his tracks, pretending to occupy himself with the philosophical book he’d wanted to purchase but when he saw you standing there, he focused on anything but that book.

The way you’d been focusing on the book you were holding, holding three other books in your arm. You were focused on an entirely other world and he grew fascinated by it. You were dressed in a casual outfit, topped off with a pair of black chucks. You had a small smile perched on your face as you read the back of another book. You’d been encapsulated in the book you were reading, you wouldn’t have even known if he was staring at you.

Someone had approached you, a girl. She’d been asking if you were done browsing yet and he’d figured out that this was probably your friend and the friend didn’t seem to be browsing like you were. It was like she’d been waiting on you, actually. You’d chimed in with a, “Almost done.” Your voice sounded sweet yet thick like honey.

“Now, to choose the ones I want out of this stack.” You told your friend as you looked down at your arms. “I’ve been wanting this one for a while but this one has such a good description.” You say, gazing over your options.

“Why don’t you just get all of them?” Your friend asked and he smiles to himself, because that’s something he’d ask, too. “Because I told myself I was on a book buying ban and that I still have other books I need to read. I’m on a budget.”

Spencer looked over, seeing as you skimmed the descriptions again and your friend sighing exasperatedly but still nonetheless waiting for you to pick your books.

In the end, you’d chosen three and walked down the section. Spencer had walked down to where you were previously at and scanned for the book that you were reading and luckily — with his eidetic memory — remembered what exact book you’d picked up and found that it was called Out on A Limb by Hannah Bonam Young that you’d skipped on. He remembered the look on your face and how you pointed right at the book and jokingly spoke to yourself — or rather the book, “I’ll come back for you.”

In all reality, Spencer knew that the likelihood for the book still being there when you returned maybe a week or two from now was probably pretty low. So, in the hopes of maybe taking this opportunity to talk to you, he’d zipped towards the front of the store to pay for the book before you left the store.

And when he saw that you’d purchased the three you wanted, he rushed over to you. “Uh, hi,” He greeted shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “I, um, I hope this isn’t too weird, uh…” He holds the book toward you. “I saw that you put it down and well, the statistics of it still being here when you got back are extremely low, so… here.” You gasp as you grab the book from his grasp. “Oh, my gosh. Thank you, that’s super sweet of you! How’d you know this was the one I put back?”

Spencer shrugs, “I, uh, happened to look over when you put it back.” He told and you gaze down at the cover. “I hope that it isn’t weird, it’s just… no book should be left unread, I guess.” He chuckles to himself.

“I really do appreciate this, so much…” You trail off, looking at the man for a name and his eyes widen as he smiles, “Oh, uh, Spencer… I’m—I’m Spencer.”

“Spencer.” You repeat back to him and Spencer swears he could combust just by the way you say him name. “Well, I really do appreciate this. I have to get going now, but thank you so much. Hopefully, I see more around here!”

With that, you leave with your friend and Spencer takes a breath and smiles to himself a bit. It was a start, at the very least. He cursed himself a little bit for not asking for your number but you said you’d hopefully see more of him at the bookstore.

That had to have counted for something, right?

Well, anyways, he went to that bookstore almost every single day when the team didn’t have a case and found himself strolling down to the romance section every so often and his heart twinged in sadness when he saw you weren’t there.

Days turned into two weeks and still no sign of you. And after a particular case, he’d decided to go the bookstore once more. This time, he’d just wanted to look for a book. He seemed to have given up that maybe you just weren’t interested in him and possibly decided to go to a different bookstore just so you didn’t have to see him again. He’d given up by that point.

But as he passed by the romance section — by accident, like the first time — he’d found you, sitting in a chair by the window near the romance section. He squinted his eyes, was it really you? Were you a figment of his imagination? He’d looked around, as if a prank had been pulled on him or something.

Spencer takes a deep breath and as he gets closer, sees that you’re reading the book he’d bought for you. He mumbles to himself as he approaches you and gawks at you before speaking up, “Uh, hi.”

You look up and smile, “Oh, hi! Spencer, right? I was wondering when you were going to eventually show.” You tell him. Had you been waiting on him? Had you shown when he was off on cases or at work? Did he just screw this up entirely?

“Sorry, I, uh… work can get in the way sometimes. And I had shown, I just probably showed up on the days you didn’t.” There’s a moment of quiet before Spencer points towards the book you’re holding. Out on a Limb, the one he bought you. “I see you’re reading the book.”

“Finally, at least,” You say. “I swear, I have a whole stack of books near my bed and I still need to get to reading half of them.”

“You should try concurrent reading. Instead of committing to one book at a time, you read several books concurrently. You can switch between them based on your mood, interest, or level of engagement at any given moment. It can stimulate your brain, improve your focus and you’re short-term memory and it keep your desire to read alive.” Spencer explained and you looked at him with a smile and he closes his eyes. He really needs to learn how to have a normal conversation. He can already hear Morgan’s sigh in the back of his mind. “Sorry, I, uh, my colleagues say that I tend to ramble a lot.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” You tell him. “I have actually thought about reading two books at once, I just thought it was weird.” Spencer decides to take a seat in the chair next to you. “It’s definitely not weird. I mean, I’ve read fifteen books in one day. And I do it all the time.”

You look at the man in disbelief, “Okay, there is absolutely no way you’ve read fifteen books all in one day.” It was too good to be true, he understood. “I have an eidetic memory and I can read 20,000 words per minute so for me, at least, it’s possible.”

“What are you, some kind of genius?” You chuckle and scoff. “Yeah, actually, I am.” Spencer said. “Although, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You stare at Spencer — he can’t tell if it’s in astonishment or disbelief. Maybe both. “You are hereby the most interesting man I’ve ever met.” You laugh and Spencer stares at you. He can’t believe he’s gotten this far talking to you. And you’re incredible and funny and beautiful.

You both sat there for at least two hours, just talking to one another. You’d asked about other benefits to concurrent reading, you’d asked about other facts but eventually had to stop himself because he wanted to know more about you. He’d found out that you often went to the bookstore with your friends because you didn’t have a car but this time, a friend had dropped you off and you’d admitted you hoped to see him today. He’d also found out that your area of expertise with books had to do with romance books, since it was the only genre you read. Or the only genre you wanted to read, at least. Your dream was to work at a bookstore, or write your own stories, your favorite color was yellow and that you spent most of your time reading instead of going out on dates.

Eventually, time rang up and your friend showed up back at the bookstore and texted you to meet her outside. Spencer stood, even opting to help you stand as you both took the nearest exit.

“Well, this was fun, Spencer.” You tell the man and he nods, “I agree.”

There’s another brink of silence when Spencer finally speaks up, “Uh, I’m-I’m sorry if this seems too forward, but… could I… get your number?” Morgan’s voice appeared again, this time cheering him on.

“Oh, you’re so sweet but—” But you had a boyfriend. But you found him unattractive. But you found him weird and unattractive. The scenarios played in Spencer’s mind. All of the worst ones. “But I don’t give my number to people I hardly know. For safety reasons, you understand?” Spencer nods, that’s completely understandable. For all you know, he could be a murderer. Which was definitely the complete opposite from what he actually was.

“Totally understandable,” Spencer says. “If it helps, I work at the FBI.” You raise a brow, “FBI?”

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” He says, pulling his badge out to show you and you take a look at it with wondering eyes.

“Here,” Spencer digs in his pocket and pulls out a card. “This is my card, it has my phone number on it and if you’d like, you can take your time and wait until you’re ready to call or text me.”

You look at the man, “Okay, then.” You smile and your friend honks her horn, indicating that she’d been waiting long enough. You chuckle and look back at the man, “I won’t leave you hanging for too long, Dr. Genius. I hope I see you soon.”

“I hope I see you soon, too.” Spencer replies and you wave as you walk to your friend’s car and he waits until she drives away with you in the car to finally leave the bookstore.

Spencer’s mind was only filled with thoughts of you. Thoughts of facts about you, thoughts of your laughter and humility. And the fact that you were careful. He’d liked you. That was as far as he knew. And he really meant it when he said ‘I hope, I see you soon, too.’ And he hoped that you’d call him soon.

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Game Over (Abby X reader Smut) ✞⛧

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), Oral sex (Abby receiving), Power dynamics (teasing while distracted), Mild language/profanity. gamer!abby

The hum of Abby’s gaming headset filled the room, the rhythmic clatter of keyboard keys and the occasional muttered curse the only sounds as you slipped into her dorm. Her back was to you, broad shoulders taut beneath her tank top, the muscles in her arms flexing as she gripped the controller with the intensity of someone deeply immersed in a battle. You smirked, leaning against the doorframe for a moment, admiring the way her blonde ponytail swung slightly as she moved, the freckles on her neck catching the dim light of the monitor.

“You know, you’re going to get carpal tunnel if you keep playing like that,” you said, your voice soft but teasing, cutting through the room’s tension.

Abby jolted, nearly dropping her controller as she whipped around in her chair, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “Jesus Christ,” she hissed, pulling off her headset and tossing it onto the desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.“

You laughed, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against her arm as you leaned down, your lips grazing her ear. “My bad. But you did get my text, right? I said I was coming over.”

She rolled her eyes, though you caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah, yeah. I was in the middle of a fucking match. Give me a second.” She turned back to her screen, her hands immediately returning to the controller as she muttered something about her team needing her.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you watched her. Abby was always like this—focused, intense, almost too serious for her own good. But you knew that behind that hardened exterior was a woman who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, who fought battles both on and off the screen. And you wanted to remind her, just for a moment, that she didn’t always have to be so stoic.

So you dropped to your knees, crawling under her desk before she could protest.

Abby froze, her hands stilling on the controller as she felt your fingers brush against her thighs. “What the hell are you—” she started, but the words caught in her throat as your hands slid higher, your touch firm but gentle.

“Shh,” you murmured, your breath warm against her skin as you unbuckled her belt with practiced ease. “Keep playing. You don’t want to let your team down, do you?”

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought she might push you away. But then she lifted her hips, letting you slide her cargo pants down her legs, her breath hitching as you tugged them off completely. You smirked, your fingers tracing the waistband of her boxers, feeling the dampness that had already started to seep through the fabric.

She was trying to concentrate, you could tell. Her fingers twitched on the controller, her eyes darting between the screen and you under the desk. But when your hand cupped her through her boxers, her breath caught, and her thighs parted almost instinctively.

“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice low and strained as she cupped the microphone on her mic. “You’re not going to let me focus, are you?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the “p” as you pulled her boxers down, revealing her flushed, glistening cunt. You didn’t wait for her to respond, leaning in and pressing your tongue against her in one smooth motion.

Abby’s hips jerked, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as you lapped at her folds, your tongue exploring every inch of her. She tasted divine—sweet and salty, with a hint of musk that made your head spin. You moaned against her, the vibration eliciting a restrained cry from her that she quickly muffled with a curse about “fucking campers.”

You grinned, swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking on it gently, your hands gripping her thighs to keep her from squirming too much. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the controller as she tried to keep up with the game, but it was clear her focus was slipping.

“I… I’ve got to go,” she muttered into the mic, her voice shaky as you flicked your tongue over her clit in quick, teasing strokes. “Something… something came up.”

The second she ripped off her headset and tossed it aside, you doubled down, your tongue dipping inside her before sliding back up to her clit. Her hand found the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as she ground herself against your mouth, her moans loud and unfiltered now.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her hips bucking as you sucked on her clit, her thighs trembling around your head. “Just like that… just like that.”

You could feel her getting closer, her cunt tightening around your tongue as her moans grew more desperate. You kept going, your tongue working her clit in fast, relentless circles until she finally came with a cry, her body shuddering as she soaked your face with her release.

You didn’t stop, licking her clean as she panted, her hand still gripping your hair tightly. “Fuck,” she whispered, slumping back in her chair, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

You smirked, pulling back slightly to kiss her inner thigh, your lips lingering on the soft skin. “Maybe. But you love it.”

She groaned, her hand sliding down to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your lips. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I do.”

You were about to respond when she suddenly grabbed your shoulders, pulling you up onto her lap. Her lips crashed into yours, deep and hungry, and you melted into her, your hands tangling in her hair as she kissed you like she needed you more than air.

“Next time,” she murmured against your lips, her breath warm and ragged. “Just ask for my attention. No need to ambush me.”

You laughed, your forehead resting against hers. “Where’s the fun in that?”

[nevereclipse]

father figure

Pairing: Platonic!Tim Bradford x femme!rookie!reader

Requested Y/N: no this came from my own brain !!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Use of y/n, yelling (standard TO Bradford style), domestic violence from a police perspective, light verbal sexual harrassment, mentioned vomitting, mentioned anxiety/nervousness, panic attacks, referenced/discussed past child abuse (emotional, with vague mentions of physical). Tim being a big ole softie (eventually).

Words: 5k+

Summary: How you went from being Tim Bradfords boot, to his unofficial kid.

this one got away from me a lot and has not been proofread!😭 enjoy! feedback is fuel.

----

“Officer Y/l/n, you’re assigned to Sergeant Bradford.” Sergeant Grey was standing at the front of roll call, having just asked you to introduce yourself to your new coworkers. It was your first day as a rookie at Mid-Wilshire, and your stomach was alive with nerves.

“Yes, sir.” You responded, sitting back in your chair.

“Alright everyone, you’re dismissed,” Grey continued, “Stay safe out there.”

Immediately, Sergeant Bradford was out of his seat and walking towards you, his face stony. You’d been warned about him by a… Officer Chen? You couldn’t really remember her name. Still, she’d warned you about his ‘Tim Tests’ and gruff demeanour. It wasn’t helping your nerves.

“Boot! Let’s go.” Bradford snapped, gesturing you over with a flick of two fingers. You smoothed your uniform and walked over. You forced a smile onto your face, wanting to make a good impression.

“Sir, I’m-,” you started.

“Save it, boot.” Sergeant Bradford cut you off. “You will address me as only Bradford, Sergeant Bradford or Sir. Is that understood?”

You nodded, the nerves settling comfortably in your stomach. Bradford was clearly not planning to calm your worries. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Go grab the warbags and meet me at the shop.” Bradford nodded his head vaguely in the direction of the supply room, and you hurried off to prepare the war bags. The last thing you needed was to make a bad impression on someone who was already making you nervous.

---

Tim watched you hurriedly walk to the war room to set up. As he watched you go, Angela Lopez approached.

“So, what do you think of the new blood?” Lopez asked, gesturing (albeit unnecessarily) behind you.

“Too soon to say.” Tim replied, crossing his arms as he turned to Angela.

“Come on, Bradford, you always know right away.” Angela pushed, nudging Tim’s side.

Tim couldn’t deny that. He had a knack for knowing whether someone would be a good fit for policework – it was why he was an excellent TO.

Still, he paused, considering. “She’s… eager.” He hedged. It was true, to a degree. You did seem eager. But he could tell there was something more bubbling under the surface.

“Uh huh.” Lopez grinned, “Don’t be a total dick today, yeah?”

Tim glanced over his shoulder just as you walked out of the storeroom carrying the war bags. “No promises.”

---

Office Chen had been right. Sergeant Bradford was extremely intimidating. You’d graduated third at the Academy, and you knew you were good (well, competent at least), but some part of you was still constantly second guessing. Maybe it was Bradford’s height and build, or his permanently pissed off energy but an hour into your shift and you were scared. Not of him (not really), but of what’d happen when you inevitably screwed up. You’d tried to chat initially, but it hadn’t gone down well.

“So. Why do you want to be a cop?” Bradford asked as he pulled off West Olympic.

After an hour of near-silence, since Bradford had firmly proclaimed that the shop was a personal-life-free zone, the question surprised you. “Is that a trick question?”

“No. If I’m going to train you, I need to know why you’re in this car.” Bradford didn’t even look at you as he drove, instead scanning the streets around you.

You looked out your window for a moment. It wasn’t exactly an easy question to answer. Not without revealing way more about yourself then you wanted to on your first shift. Then you wanted too ever, really.  “Um.” You swallowed. “I know it’s… basic, but I want to help people.” You hedged. “People who don’t have anyone else to-.”

The shop screeched to a halt, and you were suddenly cut off by Bradford yelling: “I’VE BEEN SHOT! WHERE ARE YOU, BOOT?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck- you didn’t know. “Um…” You looked around, trying desperately to find a street sign, or some clue as to where you were. After a few more seconds, you heard Bradford scoff.

“Now I’m dead. It’s your fault.” He didn’t even look mad. Just completed blank. That was almost more nerve racking.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” You started, hating the way your voice shook.

“Not good enough, Boot!” Tim’s voice was loud and sharp, cutting through the silence of the shop. “Apologies don’t save lives, rookie. Get out.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“I said get out and walk, boot. You can get back in when you know where you are.”

In that moment, you knew you’d ruined it. This had been your chance to be a cop, and less than two hours in, you’d already fucked it up. You got out of the shop, walking along side it. Hoping Bradford didn’t notice how your legs had shaken as you left. You wouldn’t let yourself be upset by this. Bradford was just doing his job, you were perfectly safe. From him, anyway.

Still, when you finally got back in the shop, you didn’t talk again. All your focus went towards scanning your surroundings.

---

Your legs had shaken when you got out of the car. It was subtle, but Tim had noticed it. Unbidden, a touch of guilt settled in his stomach. He honestly hadn’t meant to frighten you. It was just a Tim Test – he didn’t need (nor want) you to be scared. It was hardly conducive to training a good rookie.

What bothered him most, though, is your complete silence the rest of the day. You’d been annoying chatty the first twenty odd minutes of your shift (until Tim had, in traditional Bradford fashion, banned any sort of personal talk), but since getting back in the car, you’d stuck strictly to ‘yes, sir’s and ‘no, sir’s. It had been… unnerving.

Tim didn’t like changing his training style. After all, after half a dozen rookies, he liked to think that he’d perfected his TO methods. Everyone knew that he was an exceptional training officer. The only people he ever made exceptions for were veterans like him. But the thought of scaring you every time he yelled made his stomach drop in an unpleasant way. You’d been so eager when you’d first gotten in the shop – nervous, sure, but eager. And you were so, so young. You reminded him of himself in a way.

In the way you’d immediately changed he’d yelled, which even Tim could admit would’ve been… slightly scary. And that change had implications, ones Tim didn’t like. He especially didn’t like the implication of what that made him to you. A threat. So he’d never mention it, but he did quietly resolve to adjust – adjust, not change – the way he made sure you learnt what you needed too.

---

A few weeks into your training and Sergeant Bradford had significantly lowered on your rating of ‘scary people I know.’ While he was still harsh, and quick to criticise, he’d never shown you that cold, disappointment-infused yelling that he had on your first shift. It’d made it a lot easier for you to get comfortable around him, and you’d almost immediately started breaking the ‘no personal talk in the shop’ rule.

“Anyway, then she said that I was the one who needed to check my attitude. I mean can you believe that? Me? Having an attitude?” You said, watching your surroundings (you hadn’t forgotten your first Tim Test) as you rambled about some woman you’d run into grocery shopping.

At your comment, Bradford simply side-eyed you. He did that a lot, you were realising.

“Rude. That’s rude.” You said in response to the side eye. “It gets worse, though. She had the audacity-.”

Bradford held up a hand, cutting you off. “Boot.”

You turned, “Yes, sir?”

“Stop. Talking.”

You shut your mouth, but that was mostly to hold back a slight laugh. Bradfords hands were wrapped around the steering wheel, but they weren’t white like they were when you really needed to shut up. (You’d always been observant.)

“But this is the best part of the story.” You pressed.

“Boot, I swear to god-.” Before Bradford could issue whatever threat, he planned too, someone’s voice crackled over the radio.

“7-Adam-100, we have a domestic call at 4195 Clover Drive. Neighbours reported shouting.”

Tim’s face hardened. He glanced briefly at you, and you knew, even without a mirror, that your face had paled a shade. You’d been lucky so far to not have to deal with any DV calls. Guess that luck was over.

“7-Adam-100, show us responding, Code 6.”

Tim floored the breaks a little harder than he objectively needed too.

You could hear the yelling as soon as you pulled into Clover Drive. It was distinctly male, the words harsh and clear, and coming from a house halfway down the street.

It was an effort to clear your head.

“What’s the procedure for a domestic call, boot?” Asked Bradford as you switched off your sirens and approached the house.

You swallowed, “Um.  Get inside the house to assess any damage. Separate the assumed predominant aggressor from the presumed victim or any children if possible. If there doesn’t appear to be violence, there isn’t much we can do, though.”

Bradford nodded tightly. “Good. I’ll take lead on this one.”

“Yes, sir.”

 You knocked on the front door as Bradford called out, alerting the occupants to the polices presence. The yelling stopped immediately.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Asked a man, probably in his forties. You and Bradford pushed your way into the house as you spoke with him. There was water spilt across the countertop, and a girl in her early teens standing in the kitchen. Her face was tear-streaked, but she appeared unharmed.

“We got reports of yelling from this area, sir.” Came Bradford’s voice from behind you. Your head was starting to spin as memories flooded back to you: late nights, angry words, the occasional smashed plate. Or worse.

You didn’t hear what the man (you assumed he was the girl father) said in response. The teen was watching you and Tim with wide eyes, shaking her head. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, and if you weren’t so stuck in your own head, you would’ve thought to ask to see if she was injured. You turned to her father and vaguely registered that he was wearing a wife beater under his button up. Ironic.

“Let’s go, boot.” Bradford snapped, beckoning you over. His jaw was set, and he obviously didn’t believe whatever the man had said. Your head felt like it was underwater as you walked out of the house, and your stomach turned. Memories flooded your head.

Bradford was grumbling under his breath, something about hating the laws around DV in California, when he noticed you stumble towards the bushes outlining the road.

“You good, boot?” He asked, frowning something.

You nodded frantically, “Mmhm… fine, si-.” The ‘sir’ was cut off by the sound of you throwing up in the bushes. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so nothing really came out, but still you dry heaved, clutching your stomach.

“Shit, Y/l/n, are you okay?” Instantly, Tim was at your side, one hand on your back. You nodded vaguely, gesturing for a drink of water. He almost ran to get it. When you could finally breathe, and had swallowed nearly half a litre of water, he asked,

“Jesus, boot, what the hell was that?”

“I’m fine.” You insisted, not wanting to get into some conversation about your past: Bradford wasn’t the understanding type. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Bradford snapped, guiding you back to the shop. His words were harsh, but his touch gentle. A strange combination, but one that left you feeling comforted. “Listen, boot, if you’ve got something that’s going to make you react to scenes like that, I need to know. Now.”

You shook your head frantically, refusing to open up. As much as you were starting to trust Bradford, you weren’t ready to give him that information. Not when he was the age he was, the build he was, holding so much authority over you

“It’s fine, sir. I swear. It won’t happen again.” You repeated, and you meant it. It wouldn’t happen again.

Tim surveyed you for a moment, watching the guarded expression in your eyes. It was one he recognised, having seen it in his reflection countless times after teachers asked about a suspicious bruise. It was for that reason he relented, though he fully intended to bring it up again. “Fine. But if have something you need to tell me… you can, kid.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

More time passed, and even though you still refused to open about your childhood to Tim (how do you even have that conversation?), you were starting to rely on him.

It was inevitable, you supposed. Unrequited, but inevitable. After all, he was in his mid-forties, an authority figure, admittedly a bit of a dick, but you were gradually (ever so gradually) starting to see a slightly gentler side of him. So of course you looked up to him. You had daddy issues, okay?

It wasn’t a crush. You knew that for sure. You’d half expected it to be, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was a healthy dose of admiration, paired with a slightly-less-healthy dose of please god be proud of me. But that was fine. It was entirely reasonable given he was your TO. You hoped.

---

“You’re under arrest for attempted grand theft auto and possession of illicit substances,” you said, hooking handcuffs around some criminal’s wrists. He’d been a pain in the ass to catch, and you could already feel a bruise blooming across your jaw from his escape attempts. Bradford had, predictably, been unhelpful in the arrest, instead opting to analyse your fighting technique as you’d taken the crook down. He’d even cracked a rare ‘good job’ smile as you’d put the cuffs on.

You pushed the perp against your shop, already halfway through the Miranda Rights: “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?”

The thief mumbled slightly, and you nodded to Tim to take him off your hands. The second your hands were off him, however, he started complaining. Loudly.

“Aw, come on man. If you’re gonna arrest me, at least let the lady cop throw me ‘round.” He said, looking over his shoulder to grin at you. You scrunched your nose. It wasn’t the first time a suspect had hit on you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Nothin’? Dude, you gotta… I ain’t going to jail without gettin’ to feel some sweet lady cop ti-! Ow! The hell was that for?”

Tim scowled, hitting the suspect over the back of the head a second time for good measure (or something). “Get your eyes off Officer Y/l/n. You’re not fit to look at her.” He shoved the perp into your shop, rougher than was strictly necessary, and you couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto your face.

“Really?” You asked, slipping into the shop’s passenger seat.

“What? You got a problem, boot?” Tim said, his voice flat. You just chuckled and shook your head.

“No problem, sir.”  

---

The silence in the shop was unbearable. It was almost lunch, and you’d scarcely said a word all day. You were preoccupied replaying your conversation with your parents from the night before over and over in your head, trying to figure out how them coming over for dinner had dissolved into fighting so quickly.

“You good, boot?” Tim asked after a particularly long stretch of quiet. “Usually I can’t get you to shut up, but you’ve barely said a word today.”

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself to focus. “I’m fine, sir. Sorry. Just tired. Besides, not personal talk in the shop, right?”

“When have you ever followed that rule? You sure you’re good, boot? Because if something’s going on that’ll affect your performance, I need to know.”

“Nothing’s going on. Sir.” You knew the words sounded thin, but what were you going to do? Complain about your parents?

Tim glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Uh-huh. In that case, what colour was the Lexus we just passed?”

Shit. You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, too lost in your own thoughts. “Uh… silver?”

Another side eye, this one harsher than the last. “There was no Lexus. It was a Camry. And for the record, boot, it was blue.”

“I…” You didn’t really have a defence.

“Seriously, kid. What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You said, and you had to admit, you sounded like a kid. “I just. Had my parents over last night, and it didn’t… go great.”

Instantly, Tim was on edge. He wasn’t proud of the reaction, of the way his stomach instinctively dropped. He knew, he knew, that his version of ‘it didn’t go great’ with family wasn’t the same as most people’s. But this was you. You who’d thrown up at your first DV call, even without any violence. You who’d completely shut down after being yelled at.

Which is why he couldn’t help the immediate questions if: “Are you hurt?”

You tensed. Why would he ask that? “No,” you replied, “I’m not hurt.” It was true, technically. You hadn’t been hit since you were fifteen. And even then, it’d been rare.

Tim’s eyes flicked over you, trying to find a lie. “What happened?” He asked, and his voice had a weird gentleness that made you feel... strange.

You swallowed. Shrugged. “My parents came over for dinner. I did something, I don’t really know what, ‘n pissed my father off.” Your explanation was purposeful vague, but you could help but add: “He broke my favourite mug, which really pissed me off. It’s my apartment, you know? He’s not supposed to be able to break my shit anymore.” A long pause, your father’s furious insults running through your head. “He didn’t like it when I told him that.”

Tim nodded slightly, knowing exactly what you were suggesting. “He insult you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Despite your cool delivery, the words stung. You looked away, out the window, feeling tears prick at your eyes. You didn’t like talking about this, especially not with Tim. Just because you viewed him as... something, didn’t mean he thought of you ask anything more than a rookie he had to train. A burden.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Tim said, assessing you carefully. “I know what that feels like.”

“You do?” You looked at Tim, curious, and instantly regretted it. The tears welling in your eyes were all too obvious now.

“Yeah. My dad was like that too. I got slapped around my fair share.” Tim’s words were clipped. He clearly also wasn’t fond of talking about his childhood.

“Oh.” What else could you say?

“Listen, boot. I know it’s rough. And you don’t deserve it. But you’re not whatever he says you are, okay?”

You sniffled, hastily wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

Tim nodded tersely. “Good.” There was a small moment, where Tim placed a hand on your shoulder, and you felt like things might actually be okay. Like you might actually have someone. Then, “Come on, boot. We’ve got six hours of shift left. You gonna focus now?”

---

Tim kept an eye on you the rest of the day. He’d known there was a bit of him in you, but the parallels between your childhoods made his heart crack.

He could see the countless untold stories behind your eyes, ones he’d undoubtedly heard before. And the way you’d tensed when he asked if you were hurt... you hadn’t been hit last night, but you had been before.

He really had tried to not get attached.

And look. He knew you looked up to him. He’d seen the way you preened at praise, the shaky look over to him after making a decision, waiting for his nod of approval, regardless of how confident you were in the decision. He’d tried not to encourage it – limiting praise, refusing to approve your decisions unless you did first. It wasn’t good for a rookie to get that attached to their TO, not when they were only partners for a year. It was especially not good for them to view them as some sort of parental figure. More importantly, Tim Bradford didn’t get attached to his boots.

But goddammit it. The look in your eyes when he’d told you about his dad? It made him abandon all the principles he thought he held so strongly. He’d always wanted a kid, after all.

---

“Does anyone know what day it is today?” Sergeant Grey asked from the front of the roll call room.

You groaned internally. Of course he had to announce it to the whole it room.

A few rows behind you, Officer Chen perked up, grinning, you were sure, at Bradford.

“The day Officer Y/l/n takes her six month exam.” She said.

Cheers and whistles filled the room and you almost buried your head in your hands.

“Boot!” Tim called out. You turned to look at him. “I’ll take it as a personal insult if you don’t get more than a 93 on this exam.”

Great. Like you weren’t stressed enough about the exam already. “Yes, sir.”

As Grey tried to calm the room down, you swallowed, focusing on calming your breathing. You knew what you were doing. You just had to not disappoint Tim. Not forget everything. Not be a total fucking failure.

No pressure, right?

---

Three days later, and you were back in roll call. Grey had written three numbers on the white board. An 84. A 91. And a 95. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the 91 and the 84. Of course you’d failed. Of course. Why hadn’t you worked harder? You’d been a straight A student in high school, and university, why was this different?

“Can anyone guess which of these belongs to Officer Y/l/n?” Grey asked the room. Various answers were shouted out, most leaning towards the 95, until Grey cut them off and said: “The 91. Good work, Officer.”

You could only nod, your head already pounding. You’d failed. Not really, not truly, but enough. And Tim. What would he do?

You didn’t notice everyone leave the room. Didn’t notice Tim approach you, not until he was practically having to shout in your face.

“Boot? Boot! Y/l/n!” The sound of your name, paired with Tim waving a hand in your face, snapped you back to reality.

“Yes, sir?” Your voice had an almost unnoticeable tension to it. A shake. Please, please don’t be mad.

“Let’s go, boot. Why aren’t you getting the war bags?” Tim asked, completely ignoring your test results.

Completely ignoring your test results? What? Why wasn’t he yelling, reaming you out for disappointing him? He’d been very clear with his expectations and he’d never been one to let you down gently if you did something wrong.

“Sir?” You asked, confused.

“What is it, boot?” Tim asked, exasperated. You should’ve been on the road by now. Wait, where you okay...? Your eyes were wide. Almost afraid.

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“What? Why would I be mad-..? Oh.” Tim looked down at you, his face softening as he recalled what he’d said before your test. What you’d told him about your past. “About your test? No, kid, I’m not mad. I was screwing with you when I said you needed to get a 93. A 91 is an excellent result, boot “

“Oh.” You said quietly, looking away sheepishly. Of course he wasn’t mad. This was Tim.

Tim looked at you like you were an idiot, but somehow, you didn’t feel stupid or insulted. “Yeah, oh. You’re not a disappointment, kid. Not to me. Now hurry up and get the war bags sorted.” Tim clapped you on the shoulder as he sent you on your way, and you couldn’t help but think that this was what a father was supposed to be like.

---

“Red or black?” You asked Tim during one shift a month or so later. It was a random question, but you wanted his opinion.

Tim glanced at you. “As concepts, or…?”

“As dress colours.” You elaborated, before hesitantly adding, “I have a date.”

The shop skidded to a stop. “Woah, woah. You have a date? When? With who?” Tim was turning instantly, all his attention on you.

You bit back a laugh. “Tonight. With a boy. Jacob. And I don’t know what to wear.”

Tim frowned. “Where did you meet this ‘Jacob?’” He couldn’t help the protective instinct. The last time one of his rookies went on a date, she got kidnapped. And you weren’t Lucy (he wasn’t in love with you) but he did… care.

“At a bookshop. Calm your farm, Bradford. It’s one date. You really pulling the protective dad card right now?” You smirked, watching the slight red colour Tim’s face.

“I- no. I’m not pulling a card, boot. I’m just… curious.” Tim spluttered, not wanting to admit that he was definitely acting like a protective dad.

“Uh huh. He’s a good guy, Sarge. He’s funny, and sweet, and I actually like him.” You said, as if the concept of actually liking a guy was foreign. It had admittedly been a while since you went on a date. “So, red or black?” You repeated, crossing your arms. Your cheeks were the tiniest bit pink.

Tim glared from the corner of his eye. “Black.”

“Thank you.”

In signature Bradford fashion, Tim huffed and simply said, “For the record, I still don’t like this whole ‘date’ thing, boot.”

---

The date was a success. So much of a success, in fact, that three dates later, Jacob came to pick you up after work the next day. It was adorable, and he showed up with fresh flowers and a planned date, and it would’ve been perfect, if you hadn’t been leaving the station with Officer Bradford.

The same Bradford who’d been demanding more information about “this Jacob person” ever since you’d first mentioned a date.

So, while you were excited about the date, you weren’t thrilled at seeing Jacob stand in front of you, levelled by one of Tim’s many practiced glares.

“Who are you?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. He knew exactly who he was.

“I’m Jacob…?” Your boyfriend said hesitantly, trying to figure out why the man in front of him was staring at him so intimidatingly.

You winced and jumped in quickly. “Jake, this is Tim. My TO?”

Recognition clicked quickly in Jacob’s eyes.  He instantly stuck out a hand to Tim, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Uh huh.” Tim raked his eyes over Jacobs outstretched hand, but didn’t shake it. “You got a last name, Jacob?”

“Anderson.” Jacob supplied immediately, lips twitching faintly in amusement.

“What do you do, Anderson? If you say screenwriter, you’re going in a cell.”

Jacob chuckled. “I’m a teacher, sir.” Tim didn’t look impressed, but he didn’t look totally disgusted either. Which, to you, was a win.

“Is this the part where you tell me not to hurt Y/n?” Jacob asked with a barely contained grin.

Tim glowered. “Yes. In fact, consider this your one and only warning. Hurt her, and I’ll find a way to make you spend the rest of your life in a cell.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest, and God you were glad he’d never given you that look before.

Pitying your partner, you jumped in and placed yourself between the two most important men in your life. “Oookay, Bradford, chill. We’re going to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, sir?”

“Uh-huh. See you tomorrow, Boot.” Tim’s words came out tense, and he didn’t take his eyes off you until you were well out of the carpark.

---

The day had arrived. You’d officially been a police officer for an entire year. You weren’t a rookie anymore.

It was everything you’d dreamed of it being.

“Finally, congratulations to Officer Y/l/n for completing the FTO program and surviving her rookie year. Welcome, officially, to the team, Y/l/n.” Grey walked over to you, shaking your hand proudly. “Good work, kid.”

“Thank you, sir.” You beamed, returning the handshake. Grey dismissed the rest of roll call, and you walked out of the room. You could barely make it a few steps without someone grabbing you, hugging you or congratulating you in some way. You’d never been happier.

You reached the edge of the room and were met with Sergeant Bradford, a rare smile on his face.

“Congratulations, Y/l/n.” He said, reaching out a hand.

“Don’t even try.” You said, knocking his hand out of the way and pulling him into a hug. It was unprofessional, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Aside from your boyfriend, Tim had managed to become one of the most important people in your life over the past year.

Tim froze for a moment, but gently returned the hug, patting your back a couple times. You thought you heard Harper snicker from across the room. You definitely heard Lucy say the word ‘Dadford.’ She wasn’t… entirely wrong. You had found a father in Tim. Maybe one day he’d even admit it – in actual words, not just actions. You still laughed every time you thought about his interrogation of Jacob when they’d first met.

You pulled back and only then did you shake Tim’s hand. “Thank you, sir. For everything.”

Tim nodded, the smile lines by his eyes crinkling. “You’re welcome… Y/n. I’m proud of you, kid.”

You smiled softly and forced yourself to only say, “Have a good shift… Tim,” before hurrying away. But as you got into your shop (your shop, for the first time), you didn’t stop a few happy tears from falling.

---

You were nervous. It was your second time riding with Tim since graduating the FTO program and you were nervous. It had nothing to do with riding with Tim, however, and everything to do with what you were going to ask him.

“Tim?” You asked, hesitant.

“Yeah, Y/l/n?”

“I have to tell you something.” You fiddled with your left hand nervously, already missing the weight on your finger.

Instantly, Tim was softening and frowning, “Are you okay, kid?”

“Yes! Yeah, I’m okay.” This time you actually meant it. “I have news, though.”

“Oh?” Tim turned to you for a second, before looking back at the road. “What is it?”

You swallowed, and then, “Jacob asked me to marry him. I said yes.”  

Tim had finally come around to Jacob a few months ago. Little did you know, but Jacob had actually asked Tim’s permission before proposing. You’d told him once about how you wished you had a father that you still spoke to, just for that reason. Jacob had known Tim was the next best thing.

Tim smiled widely, “Congratulations, Y/n. I’ll be expecting an invite to the wedding.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about that.” This was where the nervousness was coming in. You were pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach had reached your lungs too.

“What is it?” Tim tilted his head slightly.

“Will you walk me down the aisle?” Tim froze, shocked. You quickly rambled on, as you so often did when nervous, “You don’t have to, I just-.. I don’t talk to my bio dad, and you’re the closest thing I have to a father, and it would mean a lot to me, and-.”

“Relax, Y/l/n,” Tim cut you off with a smile. “I would be honoured to walk you down the aisle.”

The smile on your face then was the third biggest you’d ever smiled. The first had been when you’d graduated the FTO program, and the second when Jacob had proposed. But this… this was an entirely different feeling. This was the feeling of your whole life, finally working out. You had a career, a fiancé, and now, a father. A real one, who never insulted you or made you feel worthless.

What more could you ask for?

fin

!! DO NOT REPUBLISH OR FEED TO AI !!

[pedriache]

Merry Christmas, I miss you 𖦹 Quinn Hughes !

summary. quinn was back home for christmas and all he could think about was you. his highschool sweetheart. one he hadn’t seen in a very long time. but now, with the holiday bringing you both home… whats a better time to rekindle what once was?

wc. 1.39k+

disclaimers. ex’s that left off on good terms, fluff, reader being slightly awkward & this may be a little ooc but IDC IDC.. also reader went to college for something unspecified.

notes. i had two drafts for this idea but i liked this one better lolsss.. also i fucking decided i hated this but i also am just like whatever i need it out of the drafts!

Quinn’s fingers hovered over the green button. He had been sitting on the living room couch, chewing on his lip for about thirty minutes now. His mom had informed him that you were back in town for the Holiday’s. Your mother had stopped her at the grocery store to chat, and you’d rounded the corner. Ellen practically raced home to inform her son.

Jack and Luke sat on chairs not far from their older brother, both sharing equally as annoyed looks.

“Man, just press the button.” Jack grumbled, sinking into the chair, his foot tapping the ground impatiently.

Quinn’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing on his brother before they flickered back to his phone. “It’s not that easy. What if she has a boyfriend now and I—“

Before he could finish his sentence, Luke shot up from the couch, passing the distance in a few long strides. The youngest Hughe’s brother wrenched the phone from his brother’s tight grasp, not giving Quinn a second to retaliate, he presses the button.

Ring.. Ring..

“Hello?”

Quinn glared heatedly up at Luke as the curly haired boy grinned, handing the phone back to his brother. Jack stood from the chair, nodding his head toward the door for Luke to follow and give Quinn space.

Clearing his throat, Quinn’s mouth parted. Shit, shit, shit. What did he get himself into? What did Luke get him into?

“Uhm.. Quinn?” God, your voice was still as sweet and melodic as the last time he’d heard from you. The small hint of a smile in your voice was the thing had gave Quinn the strength to reply.

And, you still had his number saved.

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Hi!” He sunk into the couch, free hand rubbing his thigh in a comforting motion. “Heard you were back in town?”

Shuffling was heard on the other end before a soft sight left your lips. “Yep! Are you here too?” There was something in your voice, something hesitant that raised a hint of concern in Quinn.

Did you have a boyfriend? If so, that would explain it. Not wanting to hear from your ex.. what was he doing!?

“Yeah, yeah. Just for a few days. How’ve you been?” He really should just get the question that’s been nagging at his mind for hours now.

On the other end, your heart was slamming into your chest. You’d always been shy, even in high school. The only reason you had a friend group was because of Quinn. He’d helped you come out of your shell.

But now? Now he was your ex, a famous hockey player, and incredibly good looking. Why wouldn’t you be a little shy?

“Good. Been good! College is tiring, but worth it..” A pause, “How are you?”

Quinn felt a smile pushing at his lips despite himself. “I’ve been alright! Listen, I really gotta ask..” Now or never, Hughes. Now or— “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Choking. That’s all Quinn heard, even when you so clearly moved the phone away from your face. “I—Uh, I, well— no. No, no, I don’t. Sorry! That caught me a but off guard!”

A laugh slipped out of the brunettes lips, his head dipping with a low shake. “No, it’s my bad. I should’ve eased that question in. Just.. didn’t want to overstep.”

Once you’f collected yourself, did you allow a small chuckle to escape your lips. Red blossomed on your cheeks and you’d never been so grateful for it being over the phone.

If this had happened face to face? Well, you might be in the hospital for passing out from sheer humiliation.

“You aren’t overstepping anything, Quinn. I promise.” You stood from your seat, walking toward the kitchen to get yourself some water.

Quinn waited a second to speak, not wanting to seem too eager—he couldn’t scare you off just yet. “Good. We should catch up, soon. The cafe on main street is still open, you liked their espresso’s if I remember correctly.”

He did remember correctly. As if Quinn could forget anything pertaining to you. You liked it with an extra shot, claiming it was necessary or your whole day would be off. Not that you needed more energy, you’d always seemed to have an endless supply of that.

The Hughe’s man supposed that’s what he’d loved the most about you. Your energetic side that made it easy for him to sit back and relax while you took over the conversations.

“You remember very correctly.” You laugh lightly, “and, I’d love that. When are you free?”

Quinn sat up straight, smiling. Then, he turned his head, noticing his brother’s peeking over the corner. Their eyes widened and their heads disappeared.

He had to hold back the groan as he turned his attention back to the woman he was on the phone with. “Right now, if you are.”

“Oh! Oh, give me thirty minutes to get ready. I can drive—“

“I’ll pick you up. My brothers are here and they are being.. well, them.”

You nod in understanding, forgetting he couldn’t see you. A grin tugs at your lips as you imagine the younger Hughe’s boys being oh-so-nosey.

“Alright. I’m staying at my parents. Come whenever, I’m sure they’d love to see you.” And with that, you both said your goodbye’s and you sprinted to your room.

When Quinn did arrive at your house, nerves wracked his body. His stomach churned at the realization he was about to see you after so many years. Sure, he still followed you on Instagram.. but you didn’t exactly have a big social media presence.

The click of the door opening had the mans back straightening, pulse quickening in his throat like he was a high schooler all over again.

And when he saw you, his breath hitched in his throat. You looked so much more mature, somehow even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen you.

Yes, four years had passed since he’d seen you in person. But this was.. well, he forgot how to speak. The flowers in his hand long since forgotten.

“Grip those any tighter and you might snap the stems.” You spoke quietly, teasingly. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you watched him blink, his throat bobbing. Was that a stupid joke?

Then, he laughed. And you saw that he was the same Quinn you’d loved all those years ago. His cheeks puffing and his head shaking.

His grip loosened on the flowers, his arm sticking out to give them to you. You took them gratefully, cheeks flushed as you murmured a thank you.

Quinn shifted on his feet as you brought the flowers up to smell them. “You look beautiful.”

Your eyes paused on the flowers before slowly lifting to meet his. You didn’t think it was possible for your face to get any warmer, but here it was. Ablaze.

“Thank you! So do—well, I meant—“ Your mouth clamps shut. “You look handsome.” It came out gritted which caused Quinn’s lips to twitch.

Setting the flowers on a table beside the door, you grab your purse and step outside. The cold air cooling you down and stifling your humiliation. The walk to Quinn’s car was brief, thankfully.

Inside, you settled into the seat. You really needed to control yourself, this awkward vibe seeping off of you was only making you more embarrassed.

As if nothing had changed, Quinn disconnected from bluetooth and turned to you with a loose grin. And just like that, you were back in high school again, refusing to go anywhere until you gained control over the music.

Your mouth quirked as you pulled out your phone. “Always a gentleman, Hughes.” You tease lightly, which was met with a short chuckle. That simple sound shot something so familiar through your chest.

Your fingers hovered over the song you were about to play, when your eyes flitted back to Quinn. He was looking at you still, his lips pulled into a small smile. And you knew that what you were feeling wasn’t just a one way street.

“I missed you.” He spoke quietly. His eyes softened as they moved around your face like he was trying to memorize every new detail to store beside the old ones.

Tearing your eyes from him, you press play. “I missed you too.”

likes, comments, & reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any or all of my posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @spidybaby @joaoflms @sakashq @be11ingham @piastri-fvx

[hoonieyun]

locked in

part two to "locked up" read part one first! pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n" summary: you and heeseung have been texting everyday since you first met that night and although he tries to ask you out on a date everyday, you've turned him down and have decided to play hard to get. but after not hearing from him for a whole day, you begin to worry that he's no longer interested. warnings: mentions of jail and getting arrested, consensual skinship, kissing, overall 18+ not proofread lol genre: bad boy!heeseung kind of lol, strangers to lovers, down bad!heeseung x down bad!reader, romance, a bit of angst, fluff!

wc: 2867

you weren’t sure why you were playing hard to get with heeseung, i mean, he was cute and charming, and typically you probably would’ve taken the chance to jump his bones if he let you– and you know he would, but with heeseung, you wanted to play the long game. 

was it the fact that he was mysterious? you barely knew anything about him yet he was so alluring and you just seemed to find yourself constantly thinking about him. 

or maybe it was because he was kind? he did after all pay for ningning’s bail after they got locked up that eventful night. 

no matter the answer, heeseung was constantly on your mind. like he was locked up in your heart and your ribcage were the bars keeping him in. 

you and heeseung have been texting back and forth for the last few months and since that night, he’s asked you out everyday and to which you’d respond with a dismissive maybe or change the subject completely. of course you wanted to go out with him but you were having a bit too much fun playing the long game and making him work for it. 

after all, you were a prize to be won and it wasn’t going to be easy. 

heeseung on the other hand definitely knew what you were doing. he could tell you were making him work for it and he was willing to do whatever it was to get you to go out with him. he was on the same boat, ever since that night you had been on his mind and the more you played hard to get, the more he wanted you. playing hard to get was really working for you. 

heeseung texted you everyday and you truthfully looked forward to talking with him. every now and then you guys would call or facetime at night until the two of you would fall asleep. even if you guys would just go about your day with the other one the phone or he would text you briefly to just ask how you are doing and if you’ve eaten, you loved talking to him. 

however, today… he hadn’t texted you. it was 4pm and you were constantly checking your phone to see if his contact would pop up but nothhing. the last text he sent you was the day before during breakfast and nothing since then. not even a phone call, a little text asking how you were doing, or even an emoji or random photo. 

nothing. 

you had even texted him good morning and a photo of your lunch, instant ramen, because he had mentioned how much he loved it and there was still nothing. you were getting worried… had he grown tired of you? did he no longer find you desirable because you were playing hard to get? had he found another girl and you were simply just a pitstop for him? you weren’t sure but your mind was running to the worst case scenarios instead of simply thinking about how he’s probably just busy and preoccupied. 

it’s around 9pm at night when you receive a phone call from an unknown number and typically you wouldn’t answer numbers you didn’t know but something was telling you to pick up. and so you did. 

“this is the correctional facility, this phone call is being monitored and recorded for security purposes; if you would like to accept this phone call stay on the line…” and so you did just that. the phone rings for a few minutes and soon enough you can hear several voices and other sounds in the background before someone speaks up. 

“hello? yn?” the caller says and your brows furrow at his voice. 

“hee? why are you calling me from a correctional facility?” you ask, utterly confused and equally relieved that he wasn’t ignoring you on purpose… he was just locked up… again. 

“yeah.. haha about that. i may or may not have gotten arrested again. do you mind coming to get me?” he asks and his voice sounded so soft and gentle in contrast to the situation he was in and it made your heart melt. you felt so bad for him even if you hadn’t known what he was in there for. 

“of course, i’ll be right there. hang tight ok?” 

“thank you, love.” he says and the line ends. 

your mind was running wild with questions but the only thing you were focusing on was the address of the correctional facility so you could pick up heeseung and get the answers you were looking for. 

𐐪♡𐑂

you’re sitting on the trunk of your car as you wait for heeseung to be let out. the parking lot was very empty, like this correctional facility wasn’t an active location, but the light inside the building said otherwise. 

your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for heeseung and quite frankly, you didn’t know why. its almost 10pm when you arrive and it seems like forever as you wait because it’s not almost midnight and heeseung has yet to be let out. you had attempted to walk inside and ask for an update about heeseung but the guard at the front didn’t even let you walk through the entrance, turning you away before you could even utter a word. 

after waiting for another half hour without heeseung emerging, you decide that you would just wait in the car; so you hop off the trunk and make your way to the driver’s seat when a voice causes you to whip around. 

“leaving without me?” heeseung says, a smirk on his lips as he saunters over to you. hands in his pockets and the same mysterious allure from the first night you two met. “heeseung!” you say while running over to him and you don’t know what comes over you as you jump into his arms, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you into the air with an embrace. 

“hi, love. i’m so happy to see you.” he whispers into your ear as he lets you back down onto the ground. “i was so worried..” you mutter as the two of you lock eyes and you can see the sincerity in heeseung’s eyes as he hears your words. “i’m sorry, love. i didn’t mean to make you worried..” he says, softly cupping your face and brushing some hair out of your face. you pout at his words and his expression, clear that he was exhausted and although you didn’t want to pry about why he was here in the first place– you couldn’t help but wonder why especially when you were the one to come and get him. 

“we should head home, yeah?” you ask, taking his hand into yours as the two of you guys walk to your car and you could tell that heeseung was tired from the heaviness in his footsteps as they dragged across the concrete. 

heeseung lazily steps into the passenger seat of your car as you do the same into the driver’s seat. the air in the car isn’t awkward but the silence added to the atmosphere, like it was a situation that is supposed to be filled with tension but the silence was comfortable. 

the drive back to your apartment wasn’t long but you drove extra carefully because at some point heeseung had fallen asleep in the passenger seat and was silently snoring next to you. every now and then he would mumble something in his sleep. 

you could barely make out what he was saying until a very coherent sentence leaves his mouth just as you’re pulling into your parking lot. “too pretty for me.. too good for me.. i love her ok?” heeseung mutters and your eyes widen at his words. 

love? he loved you? you weren’t even sure that you were the one he was talking about but that was until your name slips from his lips. “yn.. so sweet to me..” he whispers while stirring in the seat and your cheeks burn a shade of red. you weren’t sure that you were ready to drop the L word just yet but you knew that heeseung made you feel warm on the inside. like the warmth you felt when you hugged him earlier. 

like the warmth you felt the first night you met him. 

and the warmth you felt whenever you’d see his name pop up on your phone. 

𐐪♡𐑂

heeseung crashes onto your couch and before you could even take a few steps; heeseung’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you onto the couch in his embrace. “so warm..” heeseung whispers into your ear as he cuddles up to your body in his arms, unconsciously placing a soft kiss on your head before dozing back to sleep. 

you were a bit shocked at the sudden action but you weren’t necessarily opposed to it. his strong and toned arms around your body provided comfort and a sense of safety that you didn’t know you were looking for. 

warm.. just like he mentioned and just as you thought. to you heeseung was warmth and for him, so were you. 

𐐪♡𐑂

the next morning is something different from your usual routine. when you wake up, the warmth of heeseung’s embrace is no longer enveloping your body. you look around to look for him only to find his spot on the couch gone. you were a bit saddened to see that he had left without as much as a message or text but are instantly relieved when your him in the kitchen. 

“you’re awake? hi, love.” heeseung says, a pot in his hand and chopsticks in the other as he stirred the contents of the pot. “i made us some ramyeon! come on, let’s eat it while it’s still hot.” your eyes light up at his words and you smile at his eagerness to eat his favorite food, the warm feeling returning to your body as you think about how happy heeseung seemed to share his favorite food with you. 

the two of you silently eat the food heeseung prepared and although it was just ramyeon, it was delicious. he explained in great detail how he likes to cook and prepare his ramyeon and you could tell how much he loved it. 

“so… about last night..” heeseung starts and you look up at him from your bowl. 

“i’m sorry that i called you so late.. i didn’t know who else to call and i figured if i called one of my friends they’d just dog on me for getting arrested again.. plus i don’t even know why i called you either because i was scared that it was going to leave a bad impression. i mean come on, i haven’t even taken you out on a date yet and i’m already asking you for favors like picking me up from jail.. 

thank you by the way. for picking me up.. you really didn’t have to–” at this point heeseung was rambling and you could tell he was getting a bit anxious so you gently place your hand over his  and you could see his shoulders drop as the lets out a sigh. 

“it’s ok, hee.. i was happy you called me– obviously not the best circumstance but i was happy to hear from you. 

honestly i was a bit nervous that you didn’t like me anymore or that you got tired of me because i was playing hard to get and hadn’t heard from you all day. but then you called me and i felt better again, although i wished it wasn’t from a jail phone.” the two of you laugh at your response and heeseung nods with the same dashing smile you’ve grown to love about him. 

“are you kidding? i could never get tired of you.. this cat and mouse game we play is cute and i think you’re cute.. you could reject me today and i would still ask you tomorrow.” heeseung says and your cheeks once again are flushed with a warmth; a shade of red creeping onto your skin. 

“so do it.. ask me.” you say, looking at heeseung and he just blinks at you a few times before thinking about what to do next. heeseung suddenly grabs the wrapper from your pair of chopsticks and folds it meticulously into the shape of a circle. 

he rounds the table and gets on one knee in front of you, presenting you the paper ring. 

“yn.. will you do me the honor of going out on a date with me?” he says as if he was proposing to you and as fun as it may be to reject him right now, you were done playing your game. 

“i would love to.” you respond and heeseung’s eyes light up at your words, eagerly slipping the paper ring onto your finger. “one day, it’ll be the ring of your dreams.” he whispers, looking up at you afterwards when you suddenly grab hold of his face and bring him in for a kiss, one that he returns with just as much passion and haste as his arms once again find its way around your waist. 

“i’ve been waiting for that for a while now..” you confess, causing the two of you to laugh. 

“you would’ve gotten it a lot sooner if you hadn’t rejected me so many times..” heeseung says playfully and you roll your eyes. 

“true– but hey i’m not the one who confessed that he loved me last night..” you say teasingly as you get up and using his shocked reaction as a way to slip out of his grasp so you could put the dishes in your sink. 

“w- what? come again?” he asks, bewildered at your remark. 

“last night.. you said you loved me.. while you were sleeping.. in my car..” you say, taking a step closer with each word until you were right in front of him, looking up at heeseung’s big doe eyes as he takes in your figure. 

“don’t tell me you didn’t mean it?” you tease further, a pout on your lips. 

“of course, i meant it.. i just didn’t think i was a sleep talker..” he explains and you smile at his cute response. “it’s okay, i think it was cute plus i perhaps may or may not maybe… love you too?” a confession of your own, causing heeseung’s already wide and bright eyes to widen further. 

“really?” he asks and you nod, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“dropping the L bomb before we even go on our first date… hmm” he says and you can’t help but laugh. 

“i mean, you practically proposed to me just now so we’re basically married.. and this can be our first date!” you explain, pointing to the pot of ramen still on the table. 

“this is lame though!” heeseung exclaims, arms loosely wrapping around your shoulder. 

“then i guess the night at the club was our first day!” you tempt and he instantly starts shaking his head, “definitely not that..” heeseung says. 

“we’ll have a proper first date, ok? i’ll plan everything, think of it as not only our first date but my way of making it up to you for having you come down to the precinct twice..

the date will be perfect just as long as you’re there.” 

you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you listened to him speak. you obviously didn’t mean it when you said those two instances were your first date but seeing heeseung’s continuing eagerness to take you out on a date and have it be perfect meant so much to you even if it was something simple. you could tell that he was going to be someone in your life that would provide comfort, safety, warmth, balance, and happiness. even if its just from the few interactions, texts and phone calls the two of you have had. 

“speaking of.. why were you arrested last night?” you say, peering away from his chest after going into an embrace. 

“haha.. yeah so about that.. let’s leave that story for another time hmm?” heeseung says and once again the room fills with the sound of both of your laughs. 

“i’m sure it’ll be a great story for our kids one day.” you say without even thinking and although you were a bit surprised it came out of your mouth, heeseung agrees as the two of you continue to stand in your dining room. your body melting into his as both of your arms wrap around each other. warmth emitting from your bodies as he softly rubs your back. 

this was only the beginning of your relationship with heeseung and with the most untraditional start to your relationship, you knew that he was the one for you. 

in a lot of ways, him getting arrested was almost like a representation of your relationship. heeseung being locked behind bars at some point was only a symbol of the way you held heeseung in your heart and your ribcage being the bars that kept him there. 

he was locked in and so were you. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

special notes: @ikeuverse i know you've been waiting for this and i wanted to wait until your birthday to release >_< happy birthday love! i hope you have a great one <3

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