#you the fragile type you might catch these hands and get packed up softly

[yappacadaver]

gil was so right

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[cherryatiny]

𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

Letting out a cry of pain from the weird feeling, you woke up from your sleep, sitting up heavily breathing, you clutched your arms around your pregnancy belly softly not to hurt the baby. Hugging it and cooling down your breathing, trying to comprehend what has just happened.

Many paranoic thoughts filling your mind. Is something wrong? Did something happen to the baby? Thinking about the worst scenarios, another one of those weird tumbling motions occurred in your swollen belly. Bending down to place your ear on the top of your belly of 5 months, you caressed it, trying to feel the twitches again.

Looking to the side, you placed your hands on your sleeping husband Hongjoong, gently shaking him to wake him up.

His sleepy eyes slowly opening, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. „Mhm, what is it, baby? Did something happen? Why did you wake me up for?“ hardly understandable mumbles left his mouth as he laid in his place, not moving a bit, still not woken up.

„Joongie, I think that... the baby just kicked.“ swiftly sitting up after those words came out of your mouth, his widened eyes in shock. „Really? Did the baby kick? Oh my-“

Hongjoong did the same thing as you did, laying his head on your belly, his hands wrapping around your bottom, trying to feel anything. And as the baby kicked again, your belly moving softly under his head.

Hongjoong almost jumped out of his place in amazement as he felt that. „Oh my Y/N, that was-your belly just moved, I felt it. Oh my God your baby just moved.“

Tugging up your top to expose your baby bump, he planted kisses on it, still astonished from the new feeling of a baby moving inside your body. „My baby? It's your baby too, it's our baby and it moved, Joongie.“

You both giggled cutely at the new feeling, it all felt so real, now that you could really feel your baby. „Come on, let's get back to sleep, you have to rest.“

Going back to sleep, he spooned you from behind, his arm embracing you close to him, caressing your baby bump until you fell asleep again.

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Y/N do you know where is the bottle with caraway seeds?“ Seonghwa shouted for you to hear, rummaging all over the kitchen, trying to find the seasoning he was looking for.

You were laying on the couch, resting with a book in your hands, since any excessive movement made your pregnant body tired. One eye on the flavescent pages of the book, the second one looking out for your husband Seonghwa who was cooking you two a meal, making sure he didn't hurt himself or mess something up.

Even though Seonghwa was a great cook, he was a bit clumsy so occasional cuts on his fingers weren't that occasional. Suddenly a dull pain hit your belly, causing you to cry in pain, wrapping your arms around your swollen belly.

As Seonghwa heard your painful whimpers, he dropped the knife he was holding, cutting his finger, but that wasn't what he cared for, immediately running over to you.

„Ah fuck it- Princess! Are you okay? What's happening? Is there something wrong?“ kneeling in front of you, letting his hands fall onto your knees. Your head lowered down, trying to overcome the pain that hit your ribs and abdomen.

„Ah, I don't- don't know, it just suddenly started to hurt so much. As if you hit my ribs with a bat.“ his worried expression turned into a soft one in a blink of an eye. „Isn't it... our baby kicking?“

Getting the pieces of information that flowed through your brain together, you realised that Seonghwa might have a point.

„Aww Y/N, I'm so sorry for what our baby is putting through, come on lay down, I'm gonna bandage my finger, and I'll give you a massage, maybe it'll relieve stress, what do you think?“ nodding you laid down, still not over the pain your baby just gave you.

Seonghwa ran back to the kitchen for a second, rummaging over the boxes of medicaments and this type of stuff, trying to find a plaster to wrap his finger in before going back to you and sitting on the couch. He laid your head on his lap, his hands massaging your stiff shoulders in circular motions while singing to you, trying to help you relax.

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

The weekend always meant Yunho's well-deserved rest. Usually, the two of you spent a weekend together in bed, lazily cuddling and watching series you abandoned throughout the week. Today was not any different.

Laying in the bed under piles of comforter, you nuzzled your back into Yunho's chest, letting out small mewls at how comfortable his presence was. Ever since you got pregnant, Yunho treated you like the most fragile crystal vase in this world.

His arm wrapped around your baby bump protectively, the other arm laid under your head. Watching the characters move on the screen of your notebook, your attention fully captivated.

You were on the edge, almost not breathing from the unexpected plot twist, when your swollen belly twitched lightly. Frowning your eyebrows at the weird feeling, it was as if butterflies were flying in your stomach.

But the nervous twitches did not stop, yet, they only intensified. You remembered an article you read a month ago, about how to distinguish when a baby kicks or moves. Concentrating more on the feeling, it was the same as described in the article.

Turning around to look at Yunho, his eyes closed as he was probably napping. Shaking his shoulders to wake him up, he opened his sleepy eyes. „Yunho...“ humming tiredly, he tried hard not to knock out, but listen to what you had to say.

„Remember the article? I think our baby moved...“ His no longer sleepy eyes opened widely, looking at you with excitement. „Really? How does it feel? Oh I can't even imagine it, let me touch.“

His loosened grip around your belly now tightened, his hand roaming all over your belly, trying to feel anything. „But I don't feel anything Y/N.“ pouting at you sadly, from not being able to feel his child kick.

„It's because the baby stopped moving, Yuyu. I'll tell you the next time it moves.“ He nodded dejectedly and laid back down, holding you close to him as you two resumed the series while waiting patiently for your baby to move again.

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

„That's him, that's the guy. The guy with the black hat is the killer!“ shouted Wooyoung as the aforementioned character of the movie you were watching appeared on the screen.

„Oh my fucking god Wooyoung, I swear I'm gonna sew your mouth one day, try to do this once again and you'll be the one left out when we have the next movie night.“

The boys started scolding Wooyoung as he once again spoiled the movie you were watching, some of them throwing pillows at him.

Switching between the channels you turned the TV off and decided to rather talk together since nothing watchable was on. You listened to the eight men that were discussing their next week's schedule.

Laughing at some of the sarcastic remarks your husband Yeosang made, you comfortably positioned yourself on Yeosang's laps, his strong arms keeping you close and wrapping around your baby bump protectively.

It was as if your baby reacted to the feeling of his dad's hands when you felt some weird twitches and tumbles. Shrugging your eyebrows at the weird feelings you supposed was the baby kicking, you lightly bent forward, your fingers circling over your bump, occasionally poking it to get another reaction from the baby.

„Is something wrong, Y/N?“ queried your husband Yeosang, catching the attention of the others, who stopped in their convo, instead diverting their attention to you.

„I-I think our baby moved...“ as soon as the words left your mouth, all of the boys jumped out from their seat, coming over to you and immediately placing their hands on your belly out of curiosity, leaving you and Yeosang speechless as the 7 men tried to feel your baby moving.

„Oh my god, guys I feel it kicking.“ San immediately scoffed at his words, responding sassily. „Shut up Wooyoung, you don't feel anything, you made that up because you just want to be the first one to feel our little niece move.“

„Get your hands off my wife's bump, you're irrelevant right now. Her dad should be the first one to feel her kick, her uncles are further in the line. Make your own child.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

Having to deal with pregnancy was hard, but having to deal with pregnancy when your partner couldn't be present all the time, was even harder. Many would've thought that having an idol husband must be a dream come true - a life out of fanfiction.

But at the same time, you have to deal with an exhausted man who has a packed schedule and hardly any free time. After the two of you got married, San and his group adjusted their schedule to have more time, after all, all the members weren't that young anymore and they also had their own lives.

When you got pregnant San made sure to be there for you as much as he could, it wasn't a comeback season so it was possible. However he was shooting for a drama he was supposed to play a lead role in, so he left for a 'job trip' for two weeks since they were shooting in Jeju Island.

Coming out of your shared bedroom, you yawned, still not completely woken up from your night sleep. Picking some milk out of the fridge to cook oats in, you made yourself oatmeal with fruit and a cup of coffee to eat for breakfast.

Digging your spoon into the bowl, you couldn't get yourself to have a bite. Your stomach feeling somehow heavy. It wasn't like the morning nausea you had in the first trimester, it was just a bad feeling as if someone was squeezing your stomach.

You at least drank the coffee as you sat down on the couch in your living room, turning the TV on to listen to watch some news. You caressed your baby bump out of a habit, it was almost like a routine, every morning when you and San watched the news, he'd always caress your belly.

Sipping on your coffee, you felt a sharp kick to your ribs and stomach, spilling the coffee all over your clothes. You shrugged your eyebrows, mouth wide opened as you tried to hold back your tears from the sharp and tingling pain.

„Ah, I've been carrying you for over 5 months and this is how you repay me with your first kick?“ Saying playfully to your baby even though you knew it can't hear you, you couldn't help but smile at the precious feeling of your baby kicking even though it was painful.

'I should probably say this to San, he'd be happy to know that our baby kicks' you said to yourself as you picked your phone and dialled his phone number, hoping that you won't interrupt anything and he'd be able to pick up.

„Good morning princess.“ you subconsciously smiled at his sweet voice as he called you the pet name he often used.

„Sannie, our prince kicked me. It hurts like hell, he's a strong boy, he must be taking after his daddy.“ you could feel the regret in his voice at not being able to be there when your baby kicked for the first time.

„Waah really? Ah I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there when he kicked for the first time, wait for me I'm home in 3 days.“

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

Chopping some pepper bells, onions and tomatoes, you put the aforementioned vegetables into a pot, pouring a bit of oil and letting it roast on a low heat as you poured some vegetable broth onto it afterwards.

Looking up to see your partner Mingi enter the kitchen with no t-shirt, his sweatpants long hanging as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, from having to wake up after coming home late after his practice.

„Good morning sleepyhead.“ He smiled at you beamingly, brushing his hair with his fingers and pouring himself a glass of water. „Good morning, babe. Woah, I'm so tired, my muscles stiffened as I slept, I must be getting old.“

Laughing playfully at his remark you resumed your previous activity of cooking, pouring some seasoning into the pot.

The sleepy figure of your partner Mingi, disappeared from your sight as he got behind you, his long limbs wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, whining out of the comfort.

„Mingi we can cuddle later, I have to finish cooking, okay?“ He groaned in disagreement not moving a bit as his grip tightened around your '4-month old' baby bump, running his fingers over the material of your tank-top.

You were so engaged in cutting tofu, that you didn't pay any attention to the feelings in your lower belly. Sensing some tingling, you brushed it off, thinking it was only Mingi's fingertips trying to tingle you to make you stop doing your actions.

„What was it?“ Letting out a quiet 'what do you mean' you continued not taking your eyes off the cutting board. „Your belly moved.“ Turning over to look at him, you raised your eyebrows, not getting any of his words. „It didn't move.“

„It did Y/N, I felt it.“ Letting out a small chuckle you turned back. „Mingi, I'm not going to stop and cuddle you, this attempt to make me stop is hopeless.“ as you cut the food, you suddenly felt a movement in your lower stomach.

„Wait, oh my, it really moved. Woah, it must be our little princess.“ tears fell down your cheeks at the new feeling, happiness overflowing your veins. „See? I wasn't lying!“

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

Standing in backstage, you watched from behind as your husband Wooyoung performed their newest comeback's title song on the music show stage.

Swaying his hips and letting out soft angelic sounds off his mouth. Finishing it off as an ending fairy with his serious but hot pose. Bowing respectfully to the cameramen and staff, sweaty figures of the members left the stage as they returned to the backstage, breathing heavily from the dynamic choreography.

„You were amazing guys, as always.“ You exclaimed as they neared you, grateful smiles on their faces. Wooyoung took your hand on his way and you followed him to their changing room.

„Uhm, I'll wait for you outside while you change.“ you stated as you sat on the metal bench that was in front of the changing room. Running your hand up and down your visible baby bump, you closed your eyes, just trying to think peacefully about anything that came up to your mind.

A gentle thud in your womb breaking you out of your concentrated state. You focused on your swollen belly, thoughts running all over your mind. Could it be your son? Not paying attention to the sound of the door opening you still thought about the uncanny feeling.

Since it was your first pregnancy, how were you supposed to distinguish between those feelings?

„Y/N, I'm done, let's go, Yunho is paying for dinner.“ Looking up at his smiling you focused on his deep hazel eyes with little sparkles in them. „Youngie, I think our baby kicked...“

A really loud 'woah' left his mouth along with some cheerful squeals, alerting all the people in the hallways.

„Really? Did our son really kick? Don't play your jokes on me. We'll have to celebrate then, come on, give me your backpack and I'll treat you the best meal of your life.“

„You? Didn't you say Yunho is the one who's paying?“ you remarked playfully in the mood to tease him for every detail he says. „That's just a bare detail, come one honey.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„What can I get for you?“ asked the young waiter dressed in a uniform with the logo of the café you were in.

„She's pregnant and she shouldn't drink much caffeine, so one strawberry and one watermelon lemonade.“ ordered your husband Jongho, before you could even open your mouth to say something.

Turning to face his caring and lovely smile, you pouted at him, for not giving you a chance to order something yourself.

„You know I can order for myself? And I didn't have any caffeine in a week, so I could at least have an iced latte.“ He shrugged his shoulders, as he gazed around the café.

„It's not about the caffeine right now. Do you remember? We had our first date here and drank the same thing, I just wanted to recall the memories.“ You smiled as you replayed those reminiscences in your mind.

„Who would've thought that a bundle of joy will come out of the single date, I can't express how happy I am. I still remember that day, I was so nervous and embarrassed myself so many times that I thought you would've never wanted to go out with me again, yet you did.“ you smiled at his remarks, thinking about how he almost tripped on his own foot from how nervous he was.

„I did. And there wasn't a time when I regretted, going out with you was the best choice of my life.“

As the waiter was approaching you with the lemonades, you felt fluttering movements occur in your lower abdomen. Jongho noticed the grimace on your face as you lightly hugged yourself, but waited until the waiter left.

„Is something wrong Y/N?“ You looked up to meet his worried face. „I- I don't know, there is a weird fluttering feeling in my stomach and it's just... weird.“ You answered as you took a sip of your tasty lemonade, his gaze softening.

„Y/N, it must be our baby, he started kicking, don't you think?“

[enbyleighlines]

Please please please can we have some nie huaisang for the modern mdzs au? I would especially love to see either their confession to Jiang Cheng or, if the two of them are friends in the au, them coming out to Meng Yao? Your writing is amazing by the way.

Of course, anonymous!! But why did you have to put two prompts in one??? Now I have to choose one or the other ;_;

I decided to go with option #1. Since you typed that one first, I’m assuming it was your preferred option?? Hopefully??? If not you can send in the second prompt again and I’ll fill that, too!

I hope you enjoy~

—

Weddings are meant to be happy occasions, a celebration of love and fidelity.

Nie Huaisang hates weddings. Or rather, they WANT to hate weddings, because they remind them of how unbearably single they still are, and will likely remain to be for the foreseeable future. But it’s hard to hate a good excuse to get all dolled up.

Nie Huaisang studies their reflection. They’ve always had a steady hand, and an aesthetic eye. Even so, Nie Huaisang thinks they may have outdone themself this time.

The look is understated, but beautiful. Nie Huaisang’s eyes pop, framed with dark lashes. It’s not overly feminine. The gloss on their lips is a neutral tone, and the blush is subtle, almost unnoticeable. The bronzer is giving their skin a healthy, sun-kissed glow. The warm tones are only highlighted with the contrast of Nie Huaisang’s dark olive outfit: a matching dress shirt and high-waisted, a-line skirt.

In short, Nie Huaisang looks good.

They’re in the woman’s bathroom, although Nie Huaisang doesn’t like it any more than the men’s bathroom. The bride, Jiang (soon to be Jin) Yanli had tried to find a venue with a gender-neutral option, but unfortunately, there were none. In any case, Nie Huaisang appreciates the gesture. But when a woman Nie Huaisang doesn’t know enters, Nie Huaisang quickly packs up the rest of their makeup and skitters out.

Nie Yuyan, Huaisang’s cousin, is waiting outside. She’s one of the bridesmaids, and the pale violet dress looks odd on her. She brightens when she sees them.

“Huaisang! Look at you!” Nie Yuyan says.

“I can still do your makeup, if you want,” Huaisang offers.

But Nie Yuyan shakes her head, as they knew she would. “I just can’t get used to the feeling if it on my skin,” she explains, “I don’t want to be rubbing at my face all through the ceremony. Imagine how unattractive that would be!” She laughs, the way she usually does, without any restraint or attempt to cover her mouth.

They’re opposites, the two of them, as different as Huaisang and Mingjue. Nie Yuyan grew up on a dairy farm. She is strong, big-boned, and simple. She does not second-guess her words or actions.

Nie Huaisang is not like her. They are slim, fragile, clumsy, and too often wrapped up in their own inner world.

But they understand each other. Both of them defy expectations. Nie Yuyan is loud when she’s supposed to be quiet and demure. Nie Huaisang is cowardly when they’re supposed to be fearless and manly, like their Dage, Mingjue.

And today, they are on a dual mission.

“Have you seen either of them yet?” Nie Huaisang asks, as the two of them head back outside.

The bride and groom are going to exchange their vows outside, in the garden, underneath the branches of trees dangling twinkling fairy lights like halos over their heads. But the actual ceremony is still a little over an hour away. For now, the guests are mingling amongst the flowers.

“Yes,” Nie Yuyan whispers. Or at least, it’s her best attempt at a whisper. “I saw yours by the chocolate fountain.”

“Don’t call him ‘mine’,” Nie Huaisang sighs. They look off towards the chocolate fountain, and breathe softly in relief to find that Jiang Cheng is still there.

The man looks like a dream, in his rich purple tux. He is one of the groomsmen, along with his Gege, Wei Wuxian, who is also at the chocolate fountain. Both are partaking of the cookies, though Nie Huaisang is pleased to note that only one of them has crumbs all over their mouth— and it isn’t Jiang Cheng.

Nie Yuyan clutches at Nie Huaisang’s arm. “Ah, I see him! I see Lan Xichen!” She points in a different direction.

Nie Yuyan’s crush is dressed in a pale blue suit. He is surrounded by many of his friends, including Nie Mingjue. The man is indeed handsome, Nie Huaisang can admit, though his beauty is rather... sterile. That’s the only word Nie Huaisang can think to describe it.

But Yuyan is beside herself with lovesickness. “Look at him,” she coos, “He hasn’t aged a day since I last saw him.”

Nie Huaisang hums. Their gaze has already shifted back to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng’s sleeves are rolled up and out of the way for easier snacking. It exposes a bit of his muscular forearms. Back in high school, he used to play soccer, so most of his strength is in his legs, Huaisang knows. Still, Jiang Cheng’s arm muscles are no laughing matter.

Huaisang wants Jiang Cheng to hand-feed them chocolate-dipped strawberries. They allow themself just a minute to imagine it.

“Alright,” Nie Yuyan says, “Are you ready?”

Huaisang startles. “We’re going to confess now?” They ask, “Before the ceremony even starts?”

“Well, when did you want to confess?”

“At the reception,” Nie Huaisang answers, “towards the end of the night. That way, if things go wrong, we can just leave. If we confess now, we’ll just make things awkward.”

“That’s so far from now,” Nie Yuyan complains, pouting. But she doesn’t even try to argue.

Nie Huaisang shakes their head. They can understand their cousin’s enthusiasm; after all, Lan Xichen is a kind man, he’s straight, and even if he turns her down, he’s bound to do so gently.

Confessing to Jiang Cheng will be a whole other beast. Nie Huaisang fully expects to be turned down. After all, Jiang Cheng is also straight, and he already has a girlfriend. Or, rather, he has Wen Qing. In fact, Nie Huaisang isn’t confessing in the hopes of getting a date. They just want to make their feelings known, at last, after all these years.

Maybe then, Nie Huaisang’s heart will finally let them move on.

“Well,” Nie Yuyan says, “I’m at least going to go and talk to him. I haven’t seen him since last summer! You should go catch up with your friends.”

Then she gives them an encouraging pat on the back which slaps all the air out of their lungs.

Nie Huaisang stumbles forward, and turns back to give her a scowl.

But Nie Yuyan has already disappeared.

—

At the chocolate fountain, Nie Huaisang slowly inches their way into the conversation between the two brothers.

“...like a Chinese Gordon Ramsey,” Jiang Cheng is saying, “She desperately needs to retire, but you know how she is. Unless she manages to find a new hobby, she’ll be haunting the kitchen even after she dies.”

Nie Huaisang immediately recognizes that they’re talking about Madam Yu, Jiang Cheng’s Muqin. Ever since Jiang Cheng has begun working at Lotus Soup, his family’s restaurant, he and Madam Yu have been butting heads more than usual. They love each other, Nie Huaisang knows, but they’re also a little too similar.

“You mean, a hobby other than drinking wine and gossiping with the other suburban moms?” Wei Wuxian counters.

Nie Huaisang cannot help but chuckle.

The brothers turn to look at them. Wei Wuxian greets them first, with a friendly arm around the shoulders.

“Hey, Huaisang-xiong!” Wei Wuxian says, “You’re looking good!”

Nie Huaisang glances aside at Jiang Cheng, trying to check if he agrees. However, the man’s face is in its usual state of pensive anger. So Nie Huaisang returns their attention to Wei Wuxian. “Thank you, Wuxian-xiong,” they reply, “...Cheng-xiong.”

Jiang Cheng nods.

“How have you been?” Wei Wuxian asks, “How’s the photography?”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang answers, relaxing now that they have an easy topic to discuss, “You should see some of these shots I took the other day of this great blue heron. The sky in the background is this beautiful pale orange color— it’s absolutely gorgeous.”

From then, they continue to talk about their various arts; Nie Huaisang’s photography, Wei Wuxian’s comics, and Jiang Cheng’s gourmet cooking. It’s a well-worn conversation, but they still haven’t run out of things to say. Nie Huaisang listens with awe whenever Jiang Cheng flaunts his culinary prowess.

Nie Huaisang could listen to Jiang Cheng talk about food for hours— even if it makes them hungry.

Of course, Wei Wuxian has to monopolize the conversation. Nie Huaisang loves him, but man, the guy can talk. But all of Wei Wuxian’s mindless chatter gets Jiang Cheng to make the funniest expressions, so Nie Huaisang doesn’t complain.

It feels like being in high school again, funnily enough. Nie Huaisang smiles, and tries not to think about how much it’ll hurt when Jiang Cheng rejects them later.

—

The ceremony is beautiful. Nie Huaisang is still thinking about it as they pick at their plate of food. It’s been provided by the cooks at Lotus Soup. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has ever prepared some of it himself. Nie Huaisang would be savoring every last bite, if only their stomach wasn’t currently full of nervous butterflies.

Nearly everyone else is out on the dance floor. Nie Huaisang watches the newly wed Jin Zixuan and Yanli twirl and dig around each other. They look so, so happy.

Nie Yuyan leans closer to her cousin. “So... is now a good time?”

Nie Huaisang closes their eyes, and tries not to let the terror show on their face. But there’s no good reason to keep procrastinating, so they say, “Yeah... we might as well.”

Nie Yuyan jumps to her feet, nearly tipping her chair toppling down to the floor. “Whoops,” she laughs, as carefree as ever.

Nie Huaisang gets up much more carefully. They can feel their heart pounding in their throat.

The cousins then part ways, after one last shared look. Nie Huaisang heads off towards the back of the room, where Jiang Cheng is sitting at the table reserved for the bride’s family.

He’s by himself. Even Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu are off dancing.

Nie Huaisang glances around, but they don’t see hide nor hair of Wen Qing. That doesn’t surprise them, though. Whatever strange relationship she and Jiang Cheng have, it mostly takes place behind closed doors.

As they approach, Jiang Cheng glances up over the rim of his champagne glass. He raises a single eyebrow inquisitively.

“May I sit?” Nie Huaisang asks, pointing to the seat beside Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng scowls, as if the formality of the question offends him. He lowers his cup and says, “Go right ahead. What’s up?”

Nie Huaisang tips their head slightly and sits down. They take their time smoothing out their skirt, hoping that someone or something will interrupt before Nie Huaisang is forced to say something that they can’t take back.

Unfortunately, nothing happens.

When Nie Huaisang doesn’t immediately reply, Jiang Cheng waves a hand in front of their face. “Hey, Huaisang-xiong? Did you need something?”

“Uh, not really,” Nie Huaisang says. They cough into their fist, just to give themself another second to stall. Their heart is hammering faster than Nie Huaisang thought humanly possible. “I... just wanted to say something.”

“Okay?” Jiang Cheng sounds bored.

Nie Huaisang’s heart plummets. They squeeze their eyes shut, and begin to explain, in a frenzied rush, “I have to tell you something, and I just want you to hear me out. Please... don’t interrupt me until I’m done. And... promise not to laugh.” And then they laugh themselves, nervously, into their wrist.

Jiang Cheng sits up straighter. “Okay,” he says, “I promise. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nie Huaisang quickly clarifies, “It’s just... Ah, this is embarrassing!” They suddenly wish they had brought one of their folding fans, or maybe a wide-brimmed hat, to hide their face behind. “I want to share my feelings,” they finally say.

“Your feelings?” Jiang Cheng asks. It’s clear from his voice that he has no idea what that implies.

Nie Huaisang sighs. Really, must Jiang Cheng be such a lovable meathead? Even at a time like this? But Nie Huaisang takes pity on their crush and says, “My... romantic feelings.”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng immediately relaxes. “Okay. I don’t know how much I can help, but sure. Who do you like?”

Really?! Nie Huaisang resists the urge to slap themself in the forehead. Instead, they ball up their fists, prepare for the absolute worst, and blurt out, “You!”

“Huh?” Jiang Cheng blinks. And then he blinks again. “Me?”

Nie Huaisang nods. “Yes, you,” they say, “I... I’ve liked you since high school. And my feelings aren’t going away on their own, so... I wanted to let you know. If you reject me, maybe... maybe I can finally let go of this silly crush.”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng looks... shocked, but not mad, not disgusted. “Huaisang-xiong, you know I... I don’t like men? Or, uh...” He gestures to Nie Huaisang’s body. “Sorry, I don’t know the correct terminology.”

Nie Huaisang shakes their head. “I know,” they insist, dangerously close to tears. But this is what they need, this is why they confessed. They can’t cry now, not after getting what they wanted. “That’s why I expect to be rejected,” Nie Huaisang explains, “I just... I need you to tell me I don’t stand a chance.”

“O-oh.” Jiang Cheng’s face falls, understanding finally setting in. “I had no idea.”

“No duh!” Nie Huaisang wants to laugh. They want to cry. They don’t do either. “I’ve been keeping it a secret. Not even Wuxian-xiong knows.”

An awkward silence falls between them. Nie Huaisang waits for the guillotine to finally fall, but nothing happens.

“Cheng-xiong,” Nie Huaisang chokes, pleadingly, “Tell me...”

“Tell you... what?”

Nie Huaisang throws up their hands, exasperated beyond belief. “Tell me I don’t stand a chance with you! Break my heart so I can finally move on!”

Jiang Cheng stiffens, his face twisting in pain. “That... that sounds so fucking brutal, though,” he argues, “I don’t... I mean, you’re not exactly a girl, but you’re not exactly a guy, either. So I don’t think I can...”

“Don’t think you can what?” Nie Huaisang feels their chest constricting. They desperately want to flee and pretend they never tried to confess.

“I...” Jiang Cheng bites his lip. “Huaisang-xiong, I know this might seem cruel to you, but I don’t know what to think right now. Can you... give me some time? I can give you a proper answer later, after the wedding.”

A proper answer? What is Jiang Cheng talking about?

“Cheng-xiong?”

Jiang Cheng stands up abruptly. “After the wedding,” he repeats, “I’ll... I’ll call you, okay? I just need some time.”

Then he walks off, leaving Nie Huaisang to gape into the empty air.

—

The night ends, with Nie Yuyan and Lan Xichen sneaking off together. Nie Huaisang watches them, and tries not to let their pain and confusion show on their face. Instead, they flash Nie Yuyan a thumbs-up and a smile.

At least one of them got the man of their dreams.

And Jiang Cheng didn’t say no, Nie Huaisang reminds themself. Jiang Cheng didn’t say no, but why?

Nie Huaisang packs up to head back home alone, but that question keeps playing on repeat in the back of their mind. And in their heart, a dim but determined spark of hope continues to flicker.

[fireflyquill]

Fictober 2019: Prompt #14

Prompt number: 14 (”I can’t come back”) Fandom (AU if applicable): Overwatch (McHanzo) Rating: T Warnings/Tags: friends to lovers, a bit sad, happy ending

Prompt List | Prompt 1 | Prompt 9 | Prompt 8 | Prompt 2 | Prompt 4 | Prompt 20

—

Jesse took a long drag from his cigarillo, willing the warmth to linger.

"Shoulda never told you I hated the cold, sweepea," he muttered to himself, shoving his flesh hand as deep into his pocket as it would go. He had followed a flimsy lead to a small town in Hokkaido, and had set up shop in the only accommodations available to foreigners. Even that had been a struggle: it was only through Jesse’s persistent wheedling in both English and mediocre Japanese that finally caused the innkeeper to relent.

There had been the faintest of rumours—a three-person removed account at best—that a man with a winding dragon tattoo had settled close by. Jesse had always been willing to take what little he could get. Nowadays, however, it bordered on desperation.

He had been chasing Hanzo for almost a year, and while the clues would always eventually present themselves, they were getting more difficult to come by.

The day that Hanzo had arrived at Gibraltar, Jesse knew right away that his stay would be temporary. Jesse had seen it: a short glimpse, a brief flicker of that same beast he had seen through the mirror in his own eyes shortly before he answered Recall. Shimada Hanzo had spent most of his life as a bird caged, whether one of his family's design or his own. He had finally tasted freedom from the crushing sense of duty he had felt as part of the clan, before obligation brought him to his brother’s side, much as obligation had compelled Jesse to return to Overwatch. Yes, Jesse had seen it in Hanzo’s eyes as clear as the sun rising over the flat desert horizon: it was fear.

It had been too much, too soon: the medical exams, training sessions, social obligations, missions. Everything seemed devised to aggressively force Hanzo’s affection, his obedience. Jesse knew from experience that a man like that could not be coerced. It would only be a matter of time.

What Jesse had not been able to foresee, however, was how he himself would fall fast and hard for the man. And while saying that Hanzo was hard to read was a significant understatement, Jesse had to wonder whether the affection may have been mutual.

The one thing that Hanzo had not seemed to mind was Jesse’s company. Jesse had first invited the archer for drinks out of sympathy: he saw the panic pooling in Hanzo’s expression at the mere suggestion that he dine with the team, and gently leaned over to suggest they make plans that would get in the way.

Hanzo had agreed immediately, to everyone’s dismay and to Jesse’s secret joy. They would often spend evenings together instead of with everyone else. While Jesse’s foolish heart dared to hope for something more someday, his cynical mind refused to entertain the thought.

But every time Jesse offered, Hanzo would acquiesce, and the gunslinger was too savvy to take such a sign for granted.

---

 Untrustworthy. Dodgy. Suspicious.

Jesse listened to the accusations without providing any input himself, and was only mildly hurt on behalf of the archer when some of them came from Genji. Hanzo had not proven himself trustworthy in the first few months of his arrival, but Jesse was pretty sure it was because he didn’t want to. He wasn’t here to make friends, and had therefore not gone out of his way to do so. While Jesse would likely have done differently in his place, he also didn’t hold it against the man.

He wasn’t really the type to try to change the minds of those already convinced of their own truths though, so Jesse never said a word against them. No sense in furthering antagonism. Months later, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder whether things would have been different had he decided to intervene.

To be fair, it wasn’t that the brothers weren’t trying. In retrospect, perhaps the problem had been that Genji was trying too hard—ever the younger brother who was accustomed to getting whatever it was that he wanted. Hanzo was accustomed to giving ground to the will of others, and Jesse could see that he had finally tired of it, much as Jesse himself had.  

“It wouldn’t kill you to make friends, brother. To pretend that you wanted to stay,” Genji openly accused his brother one fall afternoon.

Hanzo’s eyes hardened at the accusation. “I am here to make amends, not to make acquaintances.”

“But why can’t you have both?” Genji countered. In his head, Jesse heard the “I” instead of “you”. “Why can’t we be family again?”

“You have never stopped being my family,” Hanzo’s tone softened. “It is why I am here.”

Jesse heard the vulnerability in that answer that Genji was determined to miss. He silently willed Genji to stop in vain.

“Then you might consider my new family yours as well. Sit with us once a week. It’s all I ask.”

“You ask a lot,” Hanzo snapped.

“As you used to of yourself,” Genji spat back. “And so just once I ask for you to do so for my sake. Is that truly too much?”

Jesse knew it had been. The guilt trap snapped shut and even Genji looked a bit sheepish. “Perhaps I—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Hanzo swept from the room without another word. By the time Genji had calmed down enough to find him, he found Hanzo’s door wide open, and his room empty.

Overwatch lost two agents that day, as Jesse first left to follow, then adapted to chase.

Genji had somehow knew to find Jesse packing his bags the minute after Hanzo had disappeared, and accosted him in his own room. "Jesse. He is not worth i—"

"He will always be worth it," McCree had interrupted. A shocked silence had passed between them.

“What is my brother to you?” Genji asked, more curious than angry.

“Not sure,” Jesse admitted. “But that’s what I hope to find out.”

It was what brought McCree initially to Hanamura’s narrow streets. He had a hunch that Hanzo would return, even if only for a moment’s time, and his inkling had been correct. Hanzo’s surprise had given way quickly to physical aggression, although Jesse guessed that it was in done in defense.

They had met in close quarters, giving Jesse the upper hand, and yet he looked as surprised as Hanzo when he finally pinned Hanzo to the ground.

There had been a poignant silence that Jesse decided to interrupt in the best worst possible: by pressing forward with a snarl and a kiss that bruised. Hanzo returned the force in kind, and before Jesse knew it, they were both naked, and Hanzo was riding him until he saw stars.

He woke up the morning after alone, disappointed, and just very cold.

And yet, he wasn’t alone: on the pillow beside him had been a small Matryoshka doll, the one that Jesse had gifted to Hanzo after a mission to Volskaya. Jesse bought a one-way ticket to Russia right away.

It became a game.

Jesse would eventually catch up with Hanzo, they would fight, Jesse would win, they would have the hottest sex Jesse had ever had the pleasure of sharing with another person, and Hanzo would be gone the next day, leaving a token that would hint at his next location.

It became a pattern.

While a more tactical man like Reyes or Morrison would have attempted to guess at the meaning of the game itself, Jesse just felt blessed to be invited into it. He spent months, close to a year on the trail, content with the chase—until now.

Somewhere along the way, Jesse had become tired of waking up alone. He had realized that he would very much like to wake up beside Hanzo someday—everyday, even. However, that flicker of fear that was lurking just beneath the surface of Hanzo’s expression every day the man was at Gibraltar gave Jesse pause. Waking up next to someone every day sounded a lot like entrapment. He would have to make sure that it was not before even suggesting it.

But Hanzo had been playing this game with him for months, almost a year. Hanzo had been the one who decided that his initial victory, and indeed, every one thereafter over McCree was best claimed through his lips, through laying hands on his body, through—Jesse blushed and tilted his hat forward to hide the blush that followed that thought. And this was why hope, insignificant and fragile, bloomed in Jesse’s chest.

Jesse would be a liar if he said he didn’t have some anxiety about what would happen were Hanzo to win instead of him. He had a feeling that their game only worked if Hanzo felt as though Jesse were given some recompense for his time, as though Jesse were owed. Even though Hanzo had become more difficult to locate, Jesse wondered whether this might have been might have been due to his own uncertainty about Jesse’s feelings. Jesse wished with ever fiber of his body that he could correct Hanzo of these misconceptions.

So when the newest encounter in Hokkaido ended with Hanzo pinned to the wall, Jesse did begin to entertain this fear, but also whether he had been allowed to win in all of their previous fights.

"It would appear that you have won," Hanzo acknowledged, short breaths not betraying any emotion. Jesse saw it still though, creeping slowly across the archer's features, just as sure as the resignation, but not as quick. The fear reflected in Hanzo's own eyes made Jesse's heart ache. He knew what he had to do to cure it.

"Is that so?" He answered, just as casually. With a flick of his wrist, Peacekeeper was flipped and emptied. Hanzo watched each bullet hit the floor, but only truly reacted when the gun itself did the same. He huffed, in what Jesse recognized as a sign of the man's confusion.

Jesse stepped back.

"What—"

"Darlin', I always knew you could disarm me with just one of those looks of yours," Jesse drawled.

Hanzo's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"You win."

There was a long pause before Hanzo's next answer cut softly through the air.

"You are giving up. You have tired of our game, and have devised this rouse to be free of it." Jesse had only heard this fragile tone once before, when Hanzo had finally confessed to him his guilt regarding his brother. He moved in quickly to correct his error.

"I don't ever wanna be free of you, sweetheart. But you win," Jesse repeated. "So that means what happens next is up to you."

“I do not understand.”

"I ain't in the business of keepin' men against their will. But I've chased you for the better part of a year, Hanzo, and that's not been for sport."

Hanzo shifted uncomfortably.

“I wanna be with you.” Jesse smiled just a bit at the way Hanzo jumped at the words. “Wherever that might take us. But I only want that if it’s what you want too, honeybee.”

Hanzo would not meet Jesse’s eyes. “I cannot go back.”

“I ain’t goin’ back without you,” Jesse admitted. Hanzo took a swift step back, and looked as though he were prepared for the inevitable. “If that means I ain’t goin’ back at all, then so be it.”

That was not what Hanzo had prepared himself for. He blinked at Jesse, not quite understanding the proposition in front of him.

“I’ll play this game we play as long as you like, as long as it’s what you want,” Jesse tried again. “But I’d like somethin’ more permanent, if you’re willin’. But you call the shots.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?” Hanzo’s voice still threatened to break under the weight of the decision and his anxiety.

“Then it don’t work out,” Jesse shrugged. “But I’d really like it if it would, and I’d really like to try.”

There was a long silence. Hanzo flexed the fingers of his right hand out of habit, the bow hanging loose in his other.

“Very well.”

Jesse hadn’t realized his heart had been beating loudly in his ears until it picked up its pace, and the beat turned into a dull roar.

“Yeah?”

Hanzo chuckled, taking a step forward. “You look pleased.”

“As punch,” Jesse grinned happily, taking a step forward as well to wrap his arms around Hanzo’s waist. “I think I quite like bein’ at your mercy.”

“Ridiculous,” Hanzo snorted, but they had been doing this long enough for Jesse to know there was no real bite to his words. “I am not without mercy. What would you suggest we do?”

“First? I’d request that snug lil’ room you have for yourself, because I am freezing and they wouldn’t give me a room with heat.”

Hanzo laughed and allowed himself to be drawn even closer.

“But after that?” Jesse leaned in, eyes darting down towards Hanzo’s lips and then back up again, as though asking permission. “Anything you want.”

Jesse had a feeling, given the way in which Hanzo’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the way in which he was drawn quickly in for that kiss he looked forward to every time, that he knew exactly what it was Hanzo wanted, and that they were on exactly the same page.

[waitinginthedarke]

It Consumes Me

A BTS/Kim Namjoon Fanfiction

Summary: The minute he laid eyes on her he knew she was the one. But love is a battle of the mind and the heart, and when the voices in your head start winning, how can your heart possibly compete with a choice that consumed you before the very start…

Type: Angst/Love

Disclaimer: This story contains strong themes. Should a chapter be potentially triggering, it will be stated beforehand. (This chapter contains more direct reference to triggering subjects, most prominently EDs)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

It was always mesmerizing to you, when you could circle the little brown spots on your arms, smiling weakly at the way they’d disappear when you pressed them like a button, before reappearing when you moved your fingers aside. It was like when your tummy grumbled and you would press on it hard, and like magic it would stop, leaving you with quiet; peace.

You were too busy pushing on the spots to notice when he arrived, tilting your head curiously as you distracted yourself from the cold with your new interest, a quiet voice in the back of your mind regretting your choice of clothes; thin, long sleeved, over-sized,  black sweater over a thin tea dress with your regular converse. You’d forgotten a coat as you’d rushed out the door, having only brought your pre-packed bag with you which lay at your feet, and a stomach full of nerves.

‘Am I going to have to start bringing two coats with me everywhere I go, just so that I have one for you?’

His voice has your head snapping up in surprise, grin growing slowly on your face when you see him, and you hurriedly pull down your sleeve as you do so, so that you can stand up to greet him. Without pause you’re threading your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight as you draw the scent of him into your lungs, feeling your muscles weaken with the light-headedness that came with the action and thanking the powers that be that his automatic reaction was to do the same back to you.

He was so warm.

‘I missed you, beautiful.’

The night peeking out from behind his arm seemed to lighten with those words, tinges of white seeping into your vision in your delirious happiness, and you cant help but turn your head up to look at him so that you can catch his gaze, smiling before flickering your sights to his mouth and eagerly stretching up to touch a kiss to his lips.

It was like a movie the way you end up bent backwards, still secure in Namjoon’s arms whilst yours lay delicate against him, your lips barely grazing in the taste of a kiss, before he pulls away, the dreamlike scene scattering delicately with the minute frown that appears between his brows.

‘Are you okay?’

His voice is filled with concern, and the muscles in his shoulders bulge with tension beneath his coat, but the butterflies in your stomach were battering away too loudly for you to really cotton onto his meaning.

‘I’ve never been better.’

The answer seems to at least partially satisfy him as he lifts you back onto your feet with a smile, eyes darting behind you and tightening before he replaces his face mask back onto his face and proceeds to remove his coat.

‘Put this on before you catch a cold.’

You do as you’re told, having not stopped smiling at him since he’d found you, and feeling your cheeks hurt when instead of picking your bag up to return it to you after watching you put his coat on, he slings the pastel coloured beaten backpack onto his shoulder, before sliding his hand into yours and beginning to pull you away down the street.

Being surrounded by the smell and warmth of him had you distracted for all of 30 seconds, before you registered the feel of his stare on you, and you turn to see him smirking at you, pausing momentarily, before quickly pulling his facemask down and swooping down to plant a soft kiss to your lips, the taste of him being cola and cherries.

‘Now that I have your attention after you ignored my question five times in favour of staring at my coat that you’re wearing- with an adorable smile on your face, might i add…Have you eaten yet?’

The whole way through him talking you could feel your cheeks burning with heat where he’d caught you out for not paying attention to him, yet when he reaches his actual question, you feel the heat dissipate rapidly as you turn the words over in your mind in search of an appropriate answer.

But as it turns out, your body decided to answer him instead; your stomach rumbling loudly enough for him to hear it over the street noise.

‘Well, that’s one way to answer.’ He chuckles, seemingly paying no attention to the unsure look on your face as he switches your bag onto the opposite arm so that he could slip his arm around your waist, the move distracting you from the conversation as he proceeds to continue down the road with you, his warmth surrounding you the whole way back to his.

He’d asked you all about your day on the walk back, and even though you’d been actively responding for the most part and getting lost in his little tangents he’d take every now and again as he’d share an anecdote from his life- which you’d noticed he’d been much more open about since you found out about his occupation the other day- the moment he’d announced you were almost there, your senses had become acutely tuned into your surroundings, your mind wanting to process every tiny detail about the place he called home.

In fact, it wasn’t until you were stood before a large dark wood door within a building that appeared on the outside just as ordinary (if not a little cleaner) than all the rest, that the nerves of the situation you were about to find yourself in, and the reason you were stood there in that moment, really sinks in.

‘Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.’ He suddenly comments, turning to you just before he goes to knock on the door, instead lowering his hand slowly to allow his palm to cup your cheek, gently lifting your gaze to meet his.

‘Im fine.’ You hurriedly murmur, offering a fragile smile, before letting it go and sighing shakily, ‘I’m just nervous about meeting the rest of your friends. I know you’ve said they’ll love me, but I’m still worried that they might not. I mean, im awkward, and shy, and nerdy, and-‘

‘And you’re funny, and brilliant, and beautiful beyond comparison, y/n. Believe me, …they’re going to adore you.’ He cuts you off, his face looming closer and closer to yours as he bends down slightly until his ungodly beauty is the only thing that your brain can process as your eyes lock with his.

‘I wouldn’t let you meet them if I didn’t think they’d love you; hell, I wouldn’t be stood here with you now if I didn’t think that I’d still find myself stood by your side in well over ten years’ time…and they know that, y/n. And when they know im serious about something, they make sure that they at least try to understand why.’ He says, smiling softly at you, before dropping a quick kiss to your forehead.

‘So,…yes, they might be a little inquisitive and imposing tonight, but I can promise you, its just because they want to understand why you mean so much to me.’

As much as you could appreciate that this sentiment was meant to relax you, the idea that you’d be on a podium for the entire evening as his friends examined you only proved to cause your anxiety to raise, your poor job at concealing your worry being easily signaled to Namjoon and leading you to suddenly have all thoughts vanish from your mind,  finding yourself becoming over taken by the feel of his mouth caressing yours roughly and his hands clasping at your back as his torso presses desperately against yours. Your hands raise up to cradle his neck, a bubble of need surging up through your chest as the taste of him drowns out the noise of your thoughts, the excitement the feel of him beneath your fingertips caused leading you to want more as your lips begin to work harsher against his, all shyness being left behind as you forget all hesitation caused by your surroundings, shivering repeatedly with the feel of his hands caressing your body.

‘God, you’re intoxicating.’ He murmurs against your mouth, a breath of space following his words before he suddenly pulls back and looks quickly around you both, relaxing visibly when the only person within reaching distance was an old couple outside of their shop across the alley road, both shooting you disapproving looks before returning to peeling their vegetables.

‘Come on, if you’re going to be playing me like that, we should really be somewhere more private.’ He says, winking at you when you look up at him to object, before you realize you still had your arms tied around him and you hurriedly pull them back down to your sides, pulling his coat tightly around you when you notice that your dress underneath had ridden up to expose the tops of your legs.

‘I was just joking, y/n.’ he says quietly when you look back up at him, voice filled with concern, and you quickly plaster a smile on your face before gently tiptoeing to kiss his cheek, grinning when his face tinges pink in response.

‘I know, pabo. I’m just nervous…and also slightly dizzy after that kiss.’ You tease him, biting lightly on your bottom lip where you find you really were slightly tense at the evening to follow and noticing his gaze lock in on the move, his chest expanding suddenly as he draws in a deep breath, before he snaps his eyes back to yours.

‘You make me nervous.’ Is all he mutters under his breath before knocking on the door before he could hesitate again, his comment causing you to smile to yourself, becoming lost in your thoughts at its sentiment, this being the way you stay until the latch unlocks on the door and light from within suddenly spills out onto you.

‘Hyung, what took so long? Jimin has been waiting for ages- he keeps annoying me because he’s so excited.’

The sight of an irritated Jungkook relaxes you minutely, the casual look he was sporting making you smile until his eyes snap to you and he hurriedly bops his head in greeting.

‘Oh, sorry y/n noona.’

You grin at him in greeting, putting him at ease as he hurriedly scurries back inside, Namjoon guiding you in with a gentle arm around your waist and helping you remove his coat-although you put up a tiny fight where you wanted to keep it on just for the fact that it smelt like him- before he slips his hand easily into your own, and with one last reassuring smile, begins to pull you into the house.

First appearances show that it was all decorated and accentuated with the same dark mahogany, the expected smell of men not really being apparent with how neatly they kept the space- with the exception of the front porch area, which seemed filled with more shoes than a shoe store. Upon emerging into the living space your eyes immediately drink in the sight of the floor to ceiling windows that line the far side of the room, the scene beyond of the han river at night, twinkling with the lights of peoples lives in their own homes, the reflection of them upon the river mesmerizing you past the point of noticing the new body that enters the room just as Namjoon goes to pull you over to the corner sofa.

‘Ah, Jin-hyung. Just in time, I’d like to introduce you to someone.’

Namjoon’s voice pulls you back to the present as you turn in the direction of his attention, hurriedly bowing in greeting as your brain simultaneously registers Namjoon’s use of honorifics, offering a timid smile when you look back up at him, and feeling the blood drain to your toes when you see the man before you staring at you with a look of confusion and slight skepticisim.

‘Aish, Namjoon-ah, is this the lady you were on about?’

The man’s sudden change from intimidating confusion to relaxed joker almost feels like it causes you whiplash, but before you can let the feeling sink in, you’re focusing on Namjoon’s reaction to him, attempting to gage the appropriate response to him.

‘Yah, you didn’t forget what I told you yesterday did you, hyung? I made sure everyone was okay with her coming over for the evening- we had a debate about it for almost two hours!’ Namjoon insists, the disbelieving smile on his face signalling that you could relax with the humour-filled banter passing between the two of them: - that was until their attentions were turned back to you.

‘So…you must be y/n.’ the man Namjoon had called ‘Jin’ says, offering you a welcoming smile as he approaches you in polite greeting, looking between Namjoon and yourself and letting out a short, quiet chuckle.

‘I’m Jin. I don’t know who out of the others you’ve met yet, but you can refer to me as the friendly older brother- as well as the comedian of the group.’ He offers, winking at you, and the action makes you laugh in relief, despite the way your fingers were twisting together with your nerves. The feeling of Namjoon’s palm suddenly sitting warmly at the base of your spine has your attention drawing back to him, and you notice the slight tension in his jaw which wasn’t there before, the sight causing you to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

‘Its nice to meet you, Jin-sshi.’ You offer, turning back to the older man and seeing him nod his head at you, before he draws in a deep breath and looks awkwardly back to the corridor from where he’d came as though he’d become just as nervous as you and was seeking comfort in the nearest opportunity.

‘Well, I was just about to run to the store, so…I guess I’ll see you in a few.’ He explains, raising his hand as a farewell, before hurrying down the short corridor towards the door, out of sight.

‘See, that wasn’t as bad as you thought was it?’

You narrow your eyes at Namjoon’s playfully condescending tone, turning away from him as you make yourself comfortable on the sofa, and smiling cryptically as something enters your mind, and you watch him follow your lead, leaving only the slimmest gap between your bodies as he settles beside you.

‘And on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the easiest person to meet and 10 being the most unsociable, how would you rate him?’ you ask, turning your head to look at him inquisitively, having to look up a little cause he was still so much taller than you even when you were sat down.

‘Uhhh…maybe…a 3? Perhaps even a 2?’ he offers sheepishly, chuckling when you hum in tense anticipation of what he would pose as a 9/10, but becomingly easily distracted by the feeling of his hand reaching over to find your own to offer comfort, the way he pulls it into his lap to gently trail his fingertips over every knuckle and line pulling a warm smile from you as you watch his inspection.

‘Are you nervous with me here?’ you ask quietly, drinking in the features of his face as his eyes narrow with the smile that pulls at his lips, ears reaching back into his hair line and his adams apple bobbing lightly as he draws in a breath; every movement he makes being mesmerizing to you.

‘I can’t help but be- you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, ever had the pleasure of calling mine, and I’ve brought you into an apartment with 6 other men, all of whom have their own charms, and undoubtedly they will have their own ways of making you smile, and yet for some reason I want to be the only one who makes you smile. I have this rage of irrational jealousy burning in my chest…all because I cant bear the thought of seeing you with anyone else. The human mind baffles…’

You watch him intently as he explains, subconsciously intertwining your fingers with his when he mentions wanting to be the only one who made you smile, not noticing the smile that creeps onto your own face…or the way you end up sneaking closer to him until your arms brushed and you practically had your chin sat on his shoulder.

‘I love your mind.’

The quiet mutter from you has him turning his head slightly so that he could make eye contact with you from the corner of his eye where he’d been too shy to look at you during his confession of jealousy, his mouth curling up at the edge in a smile causing the butterflies in your chest to riot before you find yourself stretching up to touch your lips timidly to his, not being able to resist the temptation presented before you, and biting your lip sheepishly when your brain catches up with the action and you pull back suddenly.

‘You’re such a tease.’ He whispers, the fire in his eyes that had been ignited by the kiss being accentuated through his grip tightening on your fingers.

However its just as he leans closer to you, holding your hand in place so that you couldn’t escape (not that you ever wanted to), that the two of you are interrupted by a cacophony of noise coming from the direction of the front door, causing you to pull back from him a little, being stopped from going too far by his grip on your hand, and you look up at him worriedly, fear twinging through your veins momentarily, before you see the sultry look in his eyes and your heart reverts from panic mode, turning your automatic reaction into a shakyily shy smile- but not before you’d already watched his expression flicker from sultry to surprised, before finally settling on confusion with the hint of resolution.

‘Hey Namjoon-ah! Jin said your friend was here already, can we meet-‘

Upon hearing the voice you’d already started to your feet, being stood ready for inspection by the time the owner of the voice emerged into the room and watching him trail off when his sights land on you.

As you inspect the first guy, two others trail in behind him, all of their eyes immediately locking onto you and you cant help but smile awkwardly as you all become caught in a bubble of hesitation, the pause giving you a moment to suss out what you could from their visuals.

The first guy who’d entered the room was a bit shorter than Namjoon, but you guessed older by his lack of honorifics, his warm brown hair being brushed back under his cap, the shade of which accentuated his cheekbones which in turn drew your attention to the strong line of his jaw and the statue like build of his eyes and lips, immeasurably precise compared to the proportions of his face. He was wearing simple clothing; a white shirt under a dark denim jacket paired with plain basketball style shorts, as though he’d just come back from sports practise- or in this case you’d guess ‘dance rehearsal’.

That was still gonna take some getting used to.

The first guy who emerges from behind him has a similarly lanky build, the two not much different in height, although you already found yourself mesmerized by the angelic softness of his face, his inquisitive puppy-like eyes as they dance over you and the child-like tilt of his head as calculations about you begin to dance behind his gaze. The way his fringe frames his face brings your attention to the bright blonde of his hair and the cuttingly sharp angle of his jaw, before your eyes wander to the impeccably white shirt he was wearing that he’d paired with black slacks, almost as though he’d just come from a business meeting; the look completely contradicting the first man’s outfit.

It wasn’t until you’re about to turn your attention to the final guy who enters the room a few seconds after the first two that Namjoon stands from where he’d been apparently bracing himself on the sofa, angling himself minutely in front of you as he addresses his friends, before slowly sliding an arm around to lay his palm on your lower back in comfort and to demonstrate a certain level of possession of you to the other men.

‘Hoseok-hyung, Taehyungie, Yoongi-hyung, This is y/n; this is the girl I’ve told you about-‘

‘You mean the girl you haven’t stopped telling us about for the past 24 hours since you broke it to us that she was coming to stay for the night?’ The first guy cuts him off, smirking playfully at the man beside you, before he approaches you with ease and offers you a tiny bow in greeting.

‘It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I hope you don’t mind the mess, its Namjoon’s fault.’ He comments, the tiny quip making you chuckle as your eyes dart to the pile of books in the corner next to the bookcase (note: not ON the bookcase, despite there being space), and remembering the few shoes in disarray out in the hall.

Its only then, as the two begin to joke around- a few shoves being given and received- and the conversation beginning to go off on a tangent, that your gaze moves to the final person who had arrived with the little entourage…

…and you find him looking right back at you, with an unreadably dark expression.

So this would be the 10.

(T.B.C)

[moeyywrites-blog]

We Meet Again, Part 5

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1,502

Warnings: canon-like description of crime scene, mention of murder and strangulation, angst?

Master List

You turned over to a cold, empty spot beside you. You figured that Spencer wouldn’t be there when you woke up. But, you couldn’t help but hold onto that tiny piece of hope. But, it would have looked suspicious for Spencer to have left yourroom as everyone headed to their duties. You weren’t dumb. This whole thing was still fragile.

But, that wasn’t your main concern. Your mind was swimming with the photos of those children, those young students who were planning for their future. But, instead, they had their entire life taken from them. And the fucker behind it wasn’t going to get away with it.

You quickly dressed, grabbing your slacks from your go bag, and your blouse from the floor. You sighed in relief at the fact that you hadn’t actually packed two skirts, and that your blouse wasn’t badly wrinkled. The less time you took getting ready, the quicker you could catch this asshole. So, you grabbed your toiletries, and headed for the bathroom for a shower.

Once you were dressed and ready to take on the long day that loomed, you slipped out the door. In the hotel lobby was Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. You approached them with a friendly smile that was returned by each of them.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Hotch greeted you with firm handshake. “Once the other two are down here, we’ll make a game plan.”

“Before heading to the station?” you asked, still getting used to the why they did things.

“Yes. I was actually thinking you, Reid, and Morgan could head to the crime scene. There was another body discovered this morning, a female. Authorities are holding off until we can get there. I want the three of you on the scene first. The local authorities are eager to ID her, but sometimes small town authorities don’t investigate crime scenes with much, well, finesse.” Hotch’s deep eyes pierce through your as he maintained intense eye contact, making you slightly uncomfortable. “I trust the three of you will analyze every detail. I now it’s not really your area of expertise. But, maybe you’ll find something that the others missed before.”

You nodded, then turned to the two last members of the team exited the elevator. Morgan always looked like he was ready to take on the world and then some. He smiled and nodded towards you, before taking the empty place at Hotch’s right side. Spencer followed him, clutching his brown leather messenger bag. His hair sat in the neatest mess you had ever seen. His gaze lifted, locking on you, sending shivers down your spine. His presence was electrifying, and his devilish smirk wasn’t making it any better.

“Morgan, Reid, you two and Y/N are going to head to the crime scene. They found another body. JJ, Prentiss, and I will head down to the station and see what we can work with there. All of the families of the missing students are down there.” Hotch turned to JJ and started instructing her about what to say to the media, but you weren’t listening. You just wanted to get into that scene and get to the bottom of this.

A few minutes later, you all turned towards the front doors of the lobby. You followed closely behind Morgan as he led the way to the cars. A hand on your shoulder startled you.

“Y/N,” Hotch’s gentle hand slowed you down so that you were walking alongside him. “I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything, anything at all, you can always call me. I know this case is heavy, and with you being so new to all of this, it may be a lot to swallow.” He smiled sweetly. Man, you felt like this man had smiled more in the last two days than he must have his entire life. “I-We are here for you.”

“Thanks, Hotch. I’ll let you know if I need anything,” your body stiffened at how awkward and almost forced his friendliness felt. Sure, he was a decent guy, but the man felt more like a guard dog than the buddy-type. He nodded, then followed JJ towards the already waiting black SUV, while Morgan and Reid piled into the one behind it.

**

The local CSI team was already on the scene, but they held back under direct orders of the police chief and local sheriff. The only thing they managed to do was tape off most of the scene. Morgan, Reid, and you all approached the area, thanking the heavens that none of the media had gotten wind of this yet.

The body of the most recent victim was laying in the very center of the taped off section, almost delicately placed. The area was behind the vacant auditorium this time, away from most of the students and faculty. It had been a campus security guard who had discovered her.

Her.

You approached the body, taking a good look at the alabaster complexion. “It’s Faith Hammond,” you muttered to the two men. Both of them turned to you. “I recognize her from the photo.”

“Darren Cowen was found six days after he was abducted, right? And Faith went missing two days after that? That only makes this day five for her.” Morgan stood on the other side of the body, peering down at the relatively peaceful girl.

“He changed his M.O. He’s a day early,” Spencer replied in a whisper.

You folded your arms over your chest. “Do you think he knows we’re here? Maybe we spooked him?”

“Or there was something different about her. Maybe something happened with her, and he needed to get rid of her early?” Derek sounded just as confused as you felt. This whole thing just wasn’t adding up.

“Guys, look at her neck.” Spencer pointed out, squatting down beside the young girl. “Something’s missing.”

You squatted down beside him, trying to get a good look. And, he was right. “There are no marks on her neck like Darren had. She doesn’t appear to have been strangled.”

“Man, this shit just isn’t adding up.” Morgan frowned as he peered around the scene.

“Well, let’s get a look at everything else. Was her student ID on her?” You spotted her backpack close by, neatly placed a few yards away from her, just like Darren’s. You strapped on a pair of gloves, then opened the smallest compartment, where you had kept your wallet while you were in school. You opened the wallet and sifted through the few cards and cash inside. “Her driver’s license, money, and debit card are still in here. But, her student ID is gone.”

“What the hell?” Morgan asked, standing just feet to your right.

“Maybe we should get the CSI team in now. We are going to need all the evidence we can get.”

**

Morgan stood beside Reid, the two of them watching as the CSI team packed up the poor student into a body bag. Y/N was watching them intently, several yards away, her brilliant Y/E/C eyes scanning every inch of the scene for clues. Spencer couldn’t help but stare as he watched her brain tick behind her gaze.

Morgan’s phone rang loudly, startling Reid from his daydream. He answered it. “Hey Hotch.” Morgan lowered his head. “Yeah, it’s Faith Hammond. We looked over the scene, and now the CSI team is combing it over.” He paused to listen. “Yeah, we did. Apparently, she wasn’t strangled. There isn’t any bruising around her neck, or almost anywhere else.” Pause. “Yeah, I guess we’ll just have to wait for the M.E. to look her over.” He paused for a little longer this time. “Y/N? She’s fine. Why?” He chuckled softly. “Hey, man. I wouldn’t ask her how she is again until tomorrow, at least. She might actually start to think you care.” Morgan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be there in twenty.”

Reid furrowed his brow at the odd conversation. “What did Hotch want?”

Morgan scoffed. “Just checking in. Dude, I think Hotch has the hots for Y/N. He won’t stop asking about her, and did you see the way he looked at her back at the hotel this morning?” He laughed as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “I haven’t seen him like this in a long time.”

“Maybe he’s just worried she might leave the team.” Reid’s stomach began to churn, but he kept his composure. “Her expertise is something we could really use on difficult cases like this.”

“Nah, man. He likes her. I can just tell. But, good for him, you know? She would give him a run for his money.” Morgan shook his head. “Anyway, we need to get back to the station and try to make a profile.” Morgan walked off, back towards the SUV. Reid just stood there, stunned. How the hell was he going to keep his blossoming relationship with Y/N a secret? Especially when his bossmight be interested in her too?

**

Feedback is appreciated! <3

We Meet Again Tags: @coffee-and-stories @captainreid @thepartthatsalwayshidden @venus-saturn-jupiter @simplyrellamy @peace--i--mind @adraisms @i-olive-world @stunudo @rinji-senju

[artificialqueens]

When the Sun Comes Up (Trixya) Ch. 4 - Imogen

“I know I fucked things up last year and I know we didn’t really talk about it.” 

Moving to his bedroom, Trixie pauses at that. 

“No, we didn’t.”

AN: I might be the most inconsistent updater on this blog but… hear me out… I am trying to be better. On the runway this chapter I’m wearing sadness and when I pull it off in a show-stopping reveal I’m wearing regret. So. Ya into it?

Sitting on the kitchen bench, Trixie looks out at the empty street with his phone pressed to his ear. There’s a reckless dread thumping through him. Just ask her about it. The dial tone feels endless, each ring making Trixie feel more nervous. Just fucking confront the issue, Firkus.

  “Hello?” Katya says, his voice thick with sleep.

  The fight slips out of him like a breath.

  “Trixie?”

  Digging his nails into the fleshy part of his palm Trixie takes a deep breath in, trying to muster something up.

  “Filming something? Really?” He asks and his voice sounds more uncertain than accusing, “I thought that after everything last year- that things were okay. The past few months… I thought we were okay.” It’s not what he was planning.

  Katya breathes out slowly, evenly. He doesn’t sound surprised that Trixie’s called to say it when he replies, just tired. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

  Trixie’s eyes well with tears, the lights outside blur with them, and Trixie is suddenly very, very tired.

  “This is embarrassing. I can’t even leave you alone when you want me to.” He says with a sniff.

  “Do you want me to come over? I’ll come over.” Katya says urgently. There’s a rustling of sheets in the background affirming that the offer is genuine.

  Trixie shakes his head quicky before realising he’s alone.

  “No. No, don’t.”

  “If you need me to I’ll come over. Calling you late at night is kind of my gig, you do realise?” There’s a hint of a smile now beneath the worry. Katya trying to lighten the mood. Trixie laughs and a tear splashes down onto his cheek that he swipes at.

  “Don’t come over, Kathy. I haven’t cleaned the house for guests.” Trixie replies. He slides off the bench.

  “I didn’t want to upset you.” Katya hesitates, swinging the topic back. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Okay.” He says, flicking the light off and plunging the house into murky darkness.

  “I know I fucked things up last year and I know we didn’t really talk about it.”

Moving to his bedroom, Trixie pauses at that.

“No, we didn’t.”

“I think about it all the time.”

The words punch him in the stomach. He’s had this conversation so many times over in his head and now he can’t even say anything.

Trixie crawls into bed, fumbles with the phone to put it on speaker and lets his eyes close as he tries to calm his breathing.

“I think about it too.” He manages after a while.

“I know things are different for you now. I don’t want to ruin that.” Katya murmurs.

Nothing is different. Not really. Trixie’s eyes brim with tears again at the realisation. He turns his face into the pillow.

“I don’t know.” He chokes, muffled.

He can hear the telltale signs of Katya smoking. He feels guilty for waking him up, for stressing him out, for letting the boundaries blur again, for-

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” Katya breaks into his thoughts. “You said that before. I don’t want that.”

“Good.” Trixie whispers, heart wrenching. “I can’t.”

“I should have called you, when I was away.”

“I wish you would have.”

“I was scared.”

“Me too.”

-

Trixie is tipsy, climbing the stairs and clinging to the wall. He’s also late but Shea had had her set pushed back and, truthfully, he wasn’t in a rush to get there. It had been easy to send a ‘sorry, I’ll be late’ text and to let excited boys buy him drinks. He didn’t feel like he could handle the night sober and he only regrets it now, stumbling and tired and with a blanket sense of having done something wrong.

He has a key, entrusted to him after an unfortunate ‘locked keys inside the apartment when the housemate was away overnight’ situation. When he opens the door Katya jolts awake on the couch.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” Trixie winces.

He walks in, softly as he can, closing the door behind him. Katya’s face transforms with a smile but an almost imperceptible furrow remains between his brows. He’s curled up on the couch, a sweater draped over his lap that it looks like he’s been using as a blanket. A suitcase sits zipped up in front of the coffee table. Trixie tries not to look at it.

“You interrupted my beauty sleep.” Katya says with a yawn and readjusts himself into a more upright position.

Trixie smiles and sits cross-legged opposite him with his back resting on the arm of the couch.

“Isn’t this more of a ‘fell asleep waiting for my teenager to get home from the party’ situation?”

When Katya laughs their knees touch. Trixie scoots forward, just a little, to keep the contact.

“I don’t like being called Mom anymore.” He smirks.  

Trixie rolls his eyes and shuffles down on the couch so that his head rests on the arm. He stretches his legs out across Katya’s lap.

“You have a good night?” Katya asks with his fingers ambling aimlessly up over Trixie’s legs.

He was supposed to be there hours ago. Supposed to help Katya pack before he left for three months on tour. It’s a physical ache more than a sadness. Katya’s leaving and everything already feels so fragile.

“Kept getting bought drinks.” Trixie replies.

The suitcase is still there as much as he wills it not to be so he looks up with shaky vision at Katya instead. That crinkle of a frown still hasn’t gone away. Trixie closes his eyes and tries to quash a desire to smooth a thumb over it.

“I’m sorry that I-” He starts.

“No, no. I get it.” Katya waves a hand, it comes to rest back warm on his knee.

“In the vein of apologies,” Katya says. His hands have stilled. “The other day-”

Trixie squeezes his eyes shut again and tries to block out the image of Katya in his kitchen, turning away, the taste of him still lingering.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” He whispers.

“Trixie, Trixie, Trixie.” His thighs are being gripped with urgency. “It wasn’t because I- It wasn’t what you thought.”

He manages a nod. Everything is confusing and dizzying behind his eyes and he really, really doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

“Can we go to bed?” He asks after a while of heavy quiet, opens his eyes to catch Katya giving a curt nod.

It’s become familiar, this routine.

Lights off, window half open and Trixie pulls on the sweatpants he keeps here and a washed-soft Katya shirt from four years ago. Some clattering is coming from the bathroom down the hall. He lays back on the bed, feet resting on the ground, and lets out a deep breath. He imagines that he can hear crickets, though it’s probably distant helicopters.

Footsteps pad to the room after a while and Trixie props himself up on his elbows. The sheets press divots into his skin. Trixie considers his words as Katya hesitates in the doorway after flicking the hall light off. The air feels heavy, thick like syrup with tension.

“What time do you need to be up tomorrow?” He asks lamely, like he’s asking what some friend of his sisters does for a living at a barbecue.

Katya frowns and cocks his head to the side slightly and then he’s laughing. Trixie stares. Peals of it ring out, shaking his frame. He might have finally lost his mind.

“This-” Katya sighs as his laughter dies out, “this is stupid. I don’t want to go away from you, Trixie.” He takes a step toward the bed. “Physically or, or, any type of way and I don’t want tonight to be all-”

Katya won’t break eye contact, is walking purposefully and slowly toward him. Trixie’s heart is suddenly thundering, a roar in his ears as he leans back against the mattress.

“It just felt. The other day it just felt-” He says as he comes to a stop, legs against the bed either side of Trixies and hovering over him, “too much.”

Katya reaches a hand out to him but hesitates. It hangs in the air like a question mark.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about how much-” Katya murmurs with a shake of his head.

Trixie is holding his breath when he intertwines their fingers together and tugs Katya forward.

Katya straddles him, then. Cradles his face and kisses him with a bruising intensity. Trixie melts into it, lips parting for him with a shaky heart and then Katya is everywhere.

“Katya.” Trixie breathes and digs his fingers into his biceps, needing to hold onto something. They kiss and kiss and no one pulls away and no one watches it happen when he nips at Katya’s bottom lip and smiles at the noise it elicits.

“Katya.” He lets out again against his lips. He bucks up, already getting hard, and scratches his nails lightly down Katya’s forearms.

Everywhere Katya touches feels like it’s been set ablaze. They grind into each other, Katya purring against his lips and then a palm is pressed between them against his dick through his pants. Katya cups him like that for a few moments and it’s agonising.

Trixie whines, seeking friction, and earns a soft laugh. He growls and reaches down to grab Katya’s ass, pulling him in harder against him.  

“Fuck, Trixie.” Katya hisses and then his hand is working down Trixie’s pants and around him, hot and gripping him just right.

Katya’s kissing his jaw, now, their bodies pressed flush together and it’s hot breath and it’s electric and entirely too much. Trixie moans all ragged and Katya grinds down against his thigh, jerking his hand faster.

“You” He groans, teeth scraping against skin, “scare the hell” he’s breathing it against Trixie’s ear now, “out of me.”

Trixie pulls him closer, somehow they get closer, and then Katya squeezes with a few stokes and he’s bucking into it and reaching a hand up to twine into Katya’s hair and he’s cumming with a broken sound against his neck. His head flops down against the mattress as he breathes for a second, warmth radiating through his body.

“God.” Katya says throatily, watching him with a wide, awed expression on his face.

Trixie laughs shakily and edges Katya’s pants down around his thighs, wraps a hand around him and tugs. Katya swears, his fingers pressing hard at the nape of his neck, the other hand still bracing him up.

“Trix-” He pleads.

“I know.” Trixie whispers. “I know.”

He works him messily and quickly and Katya looks so beautiful in the dim light, his eyelids fluttering. Swollen, wet lips parted as almost silent whimpers seep through them.

When he moves down to kiss him again Trixie could cry for the feeling, the way he realises he’d already been missing it.

He flicks his wrist faster, demanding. Katya’s moans vibrate and rumble in his mouth as he cums warm over his fingers.

Katya kind of collapses into him, then. Head buried into his neck and pressing his lips to the skin there lazily. Trixie’s arms are around his back and fingers soothe circles under his shirt where it’s ridden up. His head is both empty and rushing at the same time but the night is purple and sacred and Katya is still there- at least until the sun comes up.

-

  A horn blasts through the thin window pane from the street outside. It feels like someone smashing into his ear drums.

  Trixie groans, reaching around wildly for his phone to check the time. It’s underneath a pillow, out of battery. They must have fallen asleep on the call. He plugs it in, stomach flipping, and pads his way to the bathroom.

  The environmental good he’s done by being a vegetarian must have earned him at least three long pity showers per year. Katya would say that nothing was real and any proverbial good you accrued was meaningless but, then, he always over-tipped and remembered his reusable coffee cup and tried to make babies laugh. Which was… admirable. Good for the sake of good was admirable but Trixie needs those showers.

  He dresses and slips into shoes and heads down the street to his coffee shop.

  The girl behind the counter has vivid green hair and Trixie hasn’t seen her before. She barely covers an eye roll when he orders a soy caramel latte.

  “Thanks.” Trixie says, putting on the sunny disposition from his retail days.

  “Sure.”

  He perches on a stool by the window and pulls out his phone while he waits.

  From: Ben 12:09am

  I’m drunj pick up

  From: Kim 8:23am

  Have you sorted your life out yet?

  From: Jen 8:35am

  Got you a lunch meeting for EP 2 tomorrow. Call me!

  Trixie taps his fingers against his leg. A heavy blanket of dread falls over him.

  To: Kim 9:03am

  How do you break up with someone (you’re not technically in a relationship with) in a way that’s kind and says “I should never have done this to you” but also “it’s too soon for either of us to feel REALLY bad about it”?

  From: Kim 9:03am

  Girl. How the fuck would I know?

What happened to “things might work out with Ben”?

🇷🇺 😈 ❓

  To: Kim 9:04am

  You’re a shitty life coach and a shitty friend.

  “Brian!” The barista calls.

  Trixie snaps his focus from his phone. He takes his coffee with a grateful smile and heads back out to the street.

  The sun is pounding down already but a cool breeze makes the morning bearable. Trixie walks the short few blocks home sipping his coffee and trying not to look too hungover when people pass him. He feels sensitive and achy, guilty and sick but there’s a jittering thrum of giddiness beneath his ribs that he can’t ignore. Plus, the coffee is great. People with bad attitudes always make the best coffee.

- 

The girl on stage is someone he hasn’t seen before. 

Crazy in Love is booming over the sound system and she’s high kicking and death dropping like some kind of 15 years younger Kennedy Davenport who’s going to make them all irrelevant in the next 18 months. It could be kind of nice, actually.

The guy behind the bar waves him away when he tries to pay for a water bottle. When he moves off to serve someone else Trixie leaves some money on the bar for him and ducks into the crowd, head down, making a beeline for the side door to get backstage.

He bumps into a few shoulders but gets there unscathed and, apparently, unsighted.

The hallway is cramped, and the music is thumping dully through the walls as he walks toward the dressing room. The number finishes to roaring applause and then the host is back on the mic, singing praises. Probably. He can’t really make it out.

Trixie ducks his head into the room and scans it quickly.

He keeps walking.

The back door is heavy and the handle is mildly sticky. Trixie crinkles his nose as he pushes it open.

“Hey, could I get a picture?” Trixie says.

Katya is crouched, smoking in the alley and Courtney leans against the brick wall in full drag. It looks like he’s interrupted a serious conversation by the way they both look up at him like they’ve been caught out.

“Fuck. You idiot.” Courtney laughs.

Trixie can feel Katya’s eyes on him but only glances to him briefly. A snapshot of stubble and sharp cheekbone. 

“God. I hate you. You know that?” Trixie says, gesturing to Courtney’s dress that’s glinting silver and clinging to her.

“That’s a woman.” Katya agrees.

Courtney laughs.

“Did you see who was on?”

“Some acrobatic, young nightmare.” Trixie says.

“Shit, I think I’m after her.” Courtney says with a gasp. She’s never been good with subtlety. Trixie’s not going to call her out on it though. He just smiles at his shoes as Courtney taps him lightly on the cheek and heads inside, the door closing with a thud and sealing most of the sound in.

Katya stands and puts his cigarette out under his foot. He’s all golden in the street light. 

“Anything interesting happen in your life lately?” Katya quips with an air of disinterest.

“Not really.” Trixie deadpans. 

“Want to pretend we don’t have any obstacles? Just for a while?” Katya looks at him sadly, hopefully.

Trixie nods. 

[yappacadaver]

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[yappacadaver]

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