#Anything can be a slow burn if you're blind enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

confused-pyramid · 6 months

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I’d Like to Think That You Would Stick Around | s6

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 15.5k

warnings: SMUT, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, guns, drinking, angst, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 6x06, 6x08, 6x17, and 6x18.

a/n: Sorry for the long wait guys, school has been kicking my ass, but here's the next part! We're getting a lot of angst this chapter, but we're so so close to the good times ;) Hope you enjoy! Title is from Love Song by Lana Del Rey

series masterlist

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You are talking to Prentiss across the bullpen, laughing about something he can't hear, and he's freaking out. He shouldn't have left that night. He knows that. He just didn't know what else to do.

Never mind the fact that he has no idea how much you remember.

When you bumped into him on the way out of the elevator this morning, he swears you jumped back, but then you smiled at him, and he was able to convince himself that it was all fine. So why does it still feel like you are avoiding him?

He can still picture the dark expanse of your pupils as you leaned in closer after stumbling into him; he can still feel the rush of your breath as your gaze met his and his fingers tightened on your hip.

He walks into his office, before sitting at his desk and dropping his head into his hands. His blinds are just shut enough that no one from down in the bullpen can see into his office, and he welcomes the privacy as he rubs a hand over his face and forces his eyes away from the photograph of the two of you on his desk.

'Aaron...'

Your voice had sounded so soft, so hurt-

He shuts his eyes again and tries to think about anything else (maybe even the paperwork he's supposed to have been doing for an hour now) but every time he blinks, he sees your face again.

He has suspected the shift in your feelings for a little while now, but that night at the bar confirmed something he isn't sure he's ready to handle. He feels it too - of course he does - but he can't think about it. He can't.

He's floundering with Jack, with trying to be there for both him and the team, and he just lost Haley. God, he just lost Haley, and the idea of losing you too because he fucks it up just like he did with her is unimaginable. They were together for decades - they had a child together - and still he couldn't give her what she needed. Your friendship means everything to him, and if he does something to ruin your relationship too, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He glances out his window and sees you still talking to Emily, both of your heads now bent down to look at an open case file. She says something to you, and your face lights up as you grin at her. Something that feels like lava pools in his gut and he swallows thickly as he turns back to his paperwork.

***

You head back to your desk and drop the case file down as you resist the urge to glance up at his office window. He hasn't looked at you once today, and you can't help it as your mind goes to the worst case scenario of losing him forever because of one stupid moment.

You had considered pretending that you don't remember anything from the bar, but he just left you there. That isn't something you can forget so easily, and even as you're trying to ignore it, you don't want to avoid him. But it isn't that simple.

You're simultaneously hurt and embarrassed, but it isn't even your own feelings that are at the forefront of your mind. You haven't been to his place in over a week, and you miss Jack and you miss him. You haven't gone this long without talking to him in years.

Fuck.

***

Your quest to stay out of trouble results in you staying late at the office to get ahead on all of your work. Most nights you were staying even later than JJ and Aaron, but then JJ got sent to the DoD as a media liaison, and the work started piling up.

You did what you could to intercept some of the paperwork before it landed on his desk, especially since Jack was so close to starting preschool and you know Aaron wants to take any extra moment of face time he can get, but it wasn't a foolproof system.

That's why it's almost midnight after getting back from a case in Ohio, and Aaron's office light is still on. Knowing it's about time you broke the cone of silence you've been under, you walk up the stairs, giving yourself ample time to change your mind.

A minute later, you knock on his door, before pushing it open gently, waiting to see the look on his face.

"Oh, you're still here," he says, his eyes lingering on you for an extra moment before turning back to his work. "Come in."

You shut the door behind you and sit in the chair in front of his desk. It doesn't sink like it usually does, and it takes you a second to realize that he finally replaced it. After all this time...

"Are you heading home soon?" you ask, trying to feign nonchalance. You can't remember the last time you overthought every single thing you said to him.

Yes, you do, your brain mocks you. A film reel of your awkward senior year of high school starts playing in your mind and one lone thought sticks out among the cacophony of memories. You loved him.

"Yeah, I'm almost done," he says with a sigh, his eyes still trained on his paper.

You frown. "Really?"

"No."

That surprises a chuckle out of you and you lean forward in the chair. It's stiffer than you're used to, and it creaks as you slide in closer. "Want any help?"

He shakes his head. "You should head home. It's late."

You don't say anything and when he finally meets your eye, you shoot him a look.

He sighs, begrudgingly handing you a stack of files. "With JJ gone, it's been a little hectic. I have to go through the new cases coming in, as well as completing the post-case paperwork."

"Shit," you whisper, not knowing what else to say. Even as you tried to cut down his workload, it wasn't even scratching the surface. "I didn't realize that was all on you."

"Yeah, for the time being," he shrugs, raking a hand through his hair to push it back, even as it bounces right back into place. "But it'll be easier when they bring us someone new."

That stops you in your tracks. "How new? Because you know I really liked Jordan, but she was too green for the BAU."

"Newer," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "They're considering some Academy cadets who are finishing up their remedial training."

"Cadets?" you echo, your voice rising an octave. "They're babies."

"They're at least 25," he states, the corner of his lip twitching. "Besides, their remedial training would have been with the BAU, so they'll know what they're getting into."

They'll know what they're getting into.

It's not a dig, but the juvenile corner of your brain hangs onto his words, trying to make out some double meaning.

"That's some relief, I guess." You flip open the first file, trying to pay attention as you scan the brief, but it just reminds you of how much you miss JJ.

"She was so much better at this," you groan, flipping the page. "I'm not sure anyone can replace her."

"I'm definitely sure that no one can," Aaron says simply as he glances up at you, "but we'll take any help we can get at this point."

There's a layer of subtext behind his tone, and you don't know if you're equipped to decipher it right now, after being up for almost 24 hours. Nevertheless, you don't give in as he looks at you, refusing to break eye contact.

Please be okay, your mind begs as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Please say I didn't fuck this all up.

His eyebrows raise slightly, checking in on you for the first time in so so long, and another thought takes over your mind. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Blinking away the thought, you nod, but you can't stop yourself as you clarify, "It's just a temp assignment, right?"

He finishes the sentence he was writing before looking up. "Yes. It's only temporary."

***

"Daddy, don't look at me."

Jack's voice filters out from his bedroom and he looks at Jess with a small laugh as she pretends to lock her lips and toss away the key.

"I'm not looking," he calls out. "Are you almost ready?"

There's a small sound of affirmation from down the hall, so he stands up from the couch and reaches for the little jack-o-lantern bag that Jack wanted to use for trick-or-treating.

When he looks up, his son is emerging from his room, dressed incredibly unlike the comic book character he wanted to be for Halloween.

"Whoa," Aaron says, his voice a low rumble. "That is definitely not Spider-Man."

Jack just shrugs. "He's not a real superhero."

"He's not?" He looks at his son again, trying to discern which superhero wears a suit. "Okay. I give up. Who are you supposed to be?"

The answer is immediate. "I'm you, Daddy."

Jess nudges his shoulder with a laugh before she walks forward and swings Jack into the air. "You look just like him, bud!"

He opens his mouth to add onto that sentiment, but his throat thickens with emotion and he has to clear his throat to get a word out. "You tied my tie so well." It's the best he can do with his eyes burning. All he wanted was for his son to feel safe and loved. Maybe I'm doing something right.

"Alright, buddy," Jess smiles, setting him down. "Grab your coat and shoes and we'll head out."

Jack runs off and she smiles at him again, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're a great dad."

"Thank you," he says simply, his lips curving up into a smile. She says it a lot, but for the first time in a while, he's finally starting to believe it.

Jess opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses for an extra second, piquing his interest. "I haven't seen Y/N around here in a little bit."

There it is. He should've seen it coming. "Yeah, she's just busy."

His words don't sound convincing, even to his own ears, and Jess shoots him a look to match. "I happen to know you quite well, Aaron. So if you're overthinking something you shouldn't be, let me be the first to say, you're being an idiot."

He lets out a surprised snort. "Thanks, Jessica."

"I'm just saying," she shrugs, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "I see things...and I know both of you, so it's not hard to read into things."

He takes a deep breath, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "It's not like that."

He expects her to push back, but she just presses her lips together and shrugs her coat on. "Either way, Haley saw it too...and she seemed happy about it."

Before he has a chance to fully process her words, Jack rushes out, barreling into him. "I'm ready!"

"Alright, my little G-man," he grins, pushing her words out of his head for the night. "Let's go get some candy."

***

Things have been shifting at the office. Ever since JJ left, the team has felt smaller, and with your unintentional (okay, maybe a little intentional) avoidance of Aaron, the office hasn't felt the same in a long time.

Everyone has been taking on more than they're used to, and when Penelope had to fill in for JJ in a press conference during your last case, you couldn't help but notice how she turned to Aaron for support whenever she felt unprepared.

Your curiosity about their shared secret was eating at you all day, until you received a mass email from him to the whole team. Re: Garcia's play, Tolgate Theater, 8pm

You didn't have any plans tonight anyway, and after long days in a seemingly endless rotation of slacks and blazers, you welcome the chance to dress up a little bit. It's not like you go out often (or at all) unless it's with the team.

Pushing to the back of your closet, you rifle through the longer dresses and gowns you own, before landing on a light green, silk number. It has a halter neckline that drapes loosely around your neck, and you haven't worn it since before Jeff died, because it always felt like too much.

But Emily messaged you after getting home with a photo of her dress too, and even though it may be a lot for a little neighborhood theater, you're excited about something for the first time in a long while.

After putting on the dress and doing your makeup a bit darker than usual, you grab your keys and head out.

He got to the theater a bit earlier than the rest of the team, mostly to apologize to Garcia and warn her about the onslaught of support she was going to be getting, but he also wanted to get there before you did, so he could save a seat for you beside him.

From an outsider's perspective, he imagines there wouldn't seem to be anything different or wrong with your relationship, but he has been feeling the frustrating tension between the two of you since that night out.

Speaking with Jess on Halloween felt like a welcome reprieve from his cycle of self-loathing, and he finally feels more free than he has in ages.

Emily, Derek, and Spencer arrive a short while later, and he points them toward the seats he booked out, before heading back to the lobby, where family and friends of the performers are milling around.

When Dave arrives, he's also dressed in a suit. "We certainly clean up nicely."

He coughs out a laugh. "I haven't pulled this suit out in years."

"Well, aside from the cobwebs," Dave jokes, brushing an imaginary piece of dust from his shoulder, "you look classy."

"Thanks," he smiles, patting the older man's arm. "You should head inside. We're sitting about halfway up."

"You coming?" Dave asks as he steps around him.

Aaron shakes his head, glancing back at the door again. "I'm going to wait for...everyone to get here. I'll meet you inside."

He nods, before smacking his shoulder once and walking into the theater. When Dave's out of sight, he turns back around and pulls his phone out, trying to look busy.

He scrolls through a couple of his latest emails before tucking his phone away. The front door of the theater opens then, and when he looks up, all of the air leaves his lungs.

It feels like the world is moving in slow motion as you glide inside, your dress billowing down as the breeze from outside settles. You look incredible, and he feels like a teenager again, when he was so in love with you he couldn't breathe.

He watches you glance around, clearly searching for a familiar face, so he walks up, approaching you slowly to give you time to notice him.

"Oh, hi!" you say, your lips curving up into a smile as he tucks a hand into his pocket. "Am I late?"

"Not at all," he says, hating how strained his voice sounds. "The play starts at the top of the hour."

"Perfect," you smile, removing your shawl from your shoulders and folding it in your hands. "You clean up well, by the way."

There's a slight tinge of humor in your voice, and you're looking at him expectantly, likely waiting for him to lead you to the seats, but he can't move. He's terrified of what he's feeling, but you look amazing, and he's surrounded by people he doesn't know, so he doesn't overthink it as he reaches out and slips a hand onto your waist.

You clearly aren't expecting it as he pulls you in closer, his fingers sliding across the silkiness of your dress. You smell like flowers, and he can't help himself as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "You're beautiful."

Reality doesn't set in until he lets you go. Your cheeks are slightly flushed and he can't think straight, but the moment you step away from him and head to theater doors, the fog clears.

What is he doing?

The rational part of his brain takes over and he mumbles a curse under his breath before jogging forward to follow you inside. At least for the time being, he has the play to cover himself, but when morning comes, and brings with it the harsh light of day, he's fucked.

***

His skin is burning. The temperature in his office feels like it has been turned all the way up, but even as he undoes his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves back, the heat doesn't abate.

He is loosening his tie when his office door opens, revealing you in your rumpled button down and slacks. He opens his mouth to ask why you're still here, but before he can get a word out, you're shutting the door behind you and locking it.

"What are you doing?" he asks as you saunter over to him, stepping around his desk and pressing your hands to the armrests of his chair. "Y/N, it's late-"

"Shut up," you say firmly, twisting his chair toward you with a strong pull. He moves to get up, but you push his shoulder down to keep him in his chair.

He already doesn't know what to say, but every thought leaves his brain as you sink down to your knees before him.

"Don't move," you whisper, your eyes glinting up at him as you deftly undo the buckle of his belt and yank his pants open. "I'm in charge now."

He lets out a gasp as you tug his pants down in one go, and before he can do anything, your fingers are on him. Your lips curve into a smile as his breath hitches, and even with the thin fabric of his boxers between you two, the sensations coursing through him feel so magnified and new.

He is already hard as a rock, and you've barely even touched him. Teasingly slow, you pull his boxers down, watching as his cock springs free from the confines. Without wasting another second, you run your tongue up his length, and he grits his teeth to keep the groans in his throat from spilling out.

Your lips slowly close around his tip and the wet heat makes his head fall back as he tries to calm his breathing down. His chest is heaving like he just went for a run, but when you hollow your cheeks around him, he can't keep the moan inside. He loses control for a moment as he reaches forward to grasp onto your hair, but that only seems to spur you on, as you bob your head even faster.

The wet sounds of your mouth sliding over his cock fill the office, and he clutches his armrest with one hand and uses the other to guide your head.

He's already so close, and the soft grip of your hands on his thighs aren't helping as he tries to hold off, to prolong this feeling. At the last second, you swirl your tongue around the tip, and he chokes out a gasp, but then-

His eyes fly open to the lonely darkness of his bedroom. The room is warmer than it usually is, and his skin feels sticky with sweat under his covers. His mind, on the other hand...

He doesn't remember every moment of the dream, but the message was clear enough. His boxers are still tight from the memory, and he tries as hard as he can to think about anything else, but he keeps going back to the image of you, in front of him, kneeling-

Throwing the covers off, he sits up quickly and climbs out of bed, needing to clear his head in the only effective way he knows of. He shrugs his clothes off on the way to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on, making the water steaming hot, before stepping inside. The steam fogs up the glass around him, but he can still see the bare outline of his shame in the mirror across from the shower.

But now isn't the time, not with his skin burning and his cock pulsing in his hand. He pumps a few times as the hot water cascades over him, trying to set a rhythm, but it doesn't feel right. He keeps nearing the edge before the wave pulls back, and he lets out a soft groan in frustration as he presses his forehead to the glass.

Just once, he thinks as he grips himself again, his mind shifting back to his dream. Only this once.

His brain fills with the images from earlier: you on your knees, your mouth warm and wet over him, the pinpricks of sweat across the swells of your chest where your shirt was unbuttoned. He pictures your mouth as he ruts into his own hand, pretending, wishing, it was you instead.

It only takes a few more pumps before he finishes, spilling onto the white floor of his shower. The energy leaves him as he slumps against the wall, twisting the knob to a cooler setting, before shutting it off completely.

He still has a few more hours of sleep left before he has to get up for work, but he spends all night tossing and turning in the wide, empty expanse of his bed.

***

"What do you think he meant?"

"Maybe it's like a new manual, or guidebook."

"What are you two on about?" You walk up to your desk and slump down into the chair as Emily and Spencer look up with meek smiles.

Spencer is the first to crack. "We were discussing what Hotch might have meant by a 'different tactic' to solve this case in New Mexico."

You frown. "The gated community one? I thought Dave was just flying over ahead of us to get a head start."

"Nope," Emily shakes her head, before turning around. "He's in Hotch's office right now."

You look up just as Aaron and Dave exit the office and begin their descent down the stairs. Dave is ahead of him, with a big smile on his face, as he pushes past all of you.

It's only after you turn around that you realize who he's looking at. The woman he pulls into a hug is young - Academy cadet young - and she's pretty too.

"Ashley!" Rossi exclaims as he lets her go.

Hotch walks up behind them and shakes her hand. "Agent trainee Seaver is on loan to us from the Academy."

He introduces her to each of you, and you reach forward to shake her hand, a big smile on your face. After he told you that the bureau was considering someone new, you have had your guard up, but you don't want to make a bad impression in case she's here to stay.

"It's great to meet all of you," she says with a meek smile.

You pat her shoulder before walking past her to speak with Aaron about whether Seaver was the the new addition he was talking about. But when you lift your hand to get his attention, he turns away without looking at you, and leads Rossi out of the bullpen.

In the New Mexico gated community where three women have been murdered so far, Emily and Derek split off to check out the last crime scene, so you stay with the rest of the team and Seaver at one of the model homes to go through the evidence.

You can't help but notice how Spencer's eyes keep flitting over to the new girl, and a grin crosses your lips as you nudge his shoulder later.

"You totally have a thing for the new girl."

"Wha-what, no?!" he sputters, his face twisting into an unconvincing frown. "I don't even know her."

You just shrug. "You can still think she's pretty."

"That's irrelevant," he mutters, nudging you back and grabbing one of the files in front of him. "Do you think we can trust the local police?"

"I don't know," you sigh, letting him change the subject. "We definitely can't rule them out, especially in a community as clustered as this."

You glance across the room to Aaron and Dave, who are standing hunched over a laptop with the local detective. They're brows are all equally furrowed, and Aaron looks so focused you doubt he would hear you if you yelled his name right now.

Dropping the file onto the counter, you step around Reid and walk over to the trio, listening in as they start speaking.

"You interviewed every adult male in the community?"

The detective nods. "More than once. They're all digitized."

Aaron glances up as you approach, but when he realizes who it is, his eyes dart back to the screen. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds, and he sees a frown cross your face out of his periphery. Fuck. He has to be more careful. You're a fucking profiler, for god's sake.

"Were all the interviews confrontational like this?" you ask as you come up beside him. He can feel the warmth of your arm inches away from his, and he leans his weight to the other side, trying not to think about his dream while you're standing this close to him.

"Is that wrong?"

Rossi raises his eyebrow. "You didn't get much out of them, did you?"

The detective shakes his head before skipping to the next interview, and everyone leans in closer to get a better look. With four of you surrounding the screen, it's harder to see, and when you press your hand to his shoulder to balance yourself, he all but flinches back from your touch.

The movement is harsh enough that everyone but the detective notices. His eyes fly to you as shock and confusion cross your face, and before anyone can say anything, he mutters something that sounds like 'sorry' before rushing out of the model home.

You're chasing after him the moment he's out of sight. Dave reaches forward to catch your arm but you shake him off, rushing out of the house and onto the street, which has been cleared by the local police since you arrived.

"Aaron!" you call out as he walks ahead of you, his hand raking through his hair. To his credit, he comes to a stop the moment he hears your voice, and you catch up to him quickly, stopping just short of him on the sidewalk. "What is going on? I thought we were okay?"

His eyes close for a beat, before his face hardens into a steely calm. You can no longer pretend like everything's fine. It hasn't been for a long time - not since the bar, and maybe even before - but you've always been good at compartmentalizing what you don't want to feel. With your mom, and Jeff, and Haley, you could push down the hurt until it dissolved into your bloodstream, spreading everywhere. It wore you down and thinned you out, but at least it wasn't overwhelming.

Looking at him now - your best friend, the man you...love. Your breath catches in your throat and he shakes his head, not looking at you. "What do you mean, Y/N?"

You wish you could keep pretending, like he seems to be able to, but it's just not fair anymore. Not to him, and especially not to you. "No, don't do this. Don't act like I'm the only one who sees how wrong this has been for the last few months. I used to talk to you everyday, Aaron. We've barely spoken in weeks!"

His face cracks for a moment and you see the glimmer of pain in his eyes before the wall comes up again. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" you yell, your tone more forceful than you expect. "What are you sorry for, Aaron?"

He looks at you then, the facade falling away as your words sink in. The lines of pain and tension settle in and you're almost relieved that he's finally showing you the truth instead of hiding away what he's feeling. But then the despair returns as his lips thin into a line, unable to answer your question.

"What," you repeat, your words tinged with malice, "are you sorry for?"

He whispers your name softly, like it's an apology on it's own, before using his next words to tear you to pieces. "Don't make me say it."

A soft gasp leaves your mouth and you involuntarily take a step back, like he's slapped you in the face. He runs a hand over his neck and a sudden feverish anger rushes through you as you shake your head, blinking back tears. "Don't do that. I know it's not just me, Aaron. It's not-"

"Please," he whispers suddenly, cutting you off. "Please don't do this."

It's almost like he's begging you, and you jerk back, unable to look at him. Men have hurt you before, in so many ways, but nothing has ever cut deeper than this. You don't think your bullet wound hurt this much, and at least then you had him to support you. Now you're all alone.

The aching heartbreak hits you all at once and you brush a loose tear off your cheek before turning around and leaving him out on the sidewalk, watching you walk away.

***

"Something's up."

Penelope bumps Emily's shoulder to grab her attention. After a second, she looks up from her desk. "What was that?"

"Something," Penelope repeats, her eyes darting back and forth between you and Aaron, "is up. Y/N and Hotch haven't looked at each other in like four days. Earlier, she was talking to someone on the stairs and he literally walked out of his office and then back inside again."

Emily looks at her. "Are you sure you aren't reading into anything?"

Penelope shoots her a look that can only mean 'you're kidding, right?' "They're inseparable. Something must have happened in the last few weeks that we don't know about."

Before she can stop her, Penelope stands up and barrels over to you, with Emily on her heels like an owner who just dropped her dog's leash.

"Y/N!" Penelope calls out as she approaches you. You look up from your desk with a frown, before your face breaks into a forced smile that both of them can see through immediately. "We wanted to catch up."

You glance at Emily, who shrugs, earning a look of chagrin from the other agent.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, your forehead crinkling in a manner reminiscent of your boss.

Penelope pauses for a moment, like she's trying to think. "Uhh, I'm not sure. Maybe about...you and Hotch?"

"Subtle," Emily mutters under her breath as your face scrunches into a confused frown. "She just means that you two have seemed kind of off lately, and we were wondering if everything was okay."

You press your lips together, unsure of how to broach this topic, even with some of your closest friends. "It's nothing."

That pulls a frown from both of them, and you sigh, doubling down on your feigned nonchalance. "It's really nothing, guys. I just...can't see him right now."

You turn back to your work and Emily and Penelope share a look, twin realizations clicking in both of their minds. They rush back to Penelope's office, and Emily shuts the door behind them, before they both blurt out something that sounds like: "We all know what's going on here."

"We have to make him jealous," Emily agrees with a nod.

She pulls open her desk drawer and pulls out her address book. "I have just the thing."

***

"I messed up, Haley."

The ground is hard from the chilly December air, and he sits uncomfortably on the familiar granite bench before her grave. There is a bouquet of dried-up flowers leaning against her headstone, and he doesn't have to think too hard to figure out who they're from.

"I'm trying not to," he whispers, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to warm them up, "but I keep messing up."

A cool breeze wafts over him and the rustle of the nearby trees feels like an acknowledgement. Like she's really listening.

"She hates me," he sighs, his chin dropping to his chest as he shuts his eyes. The wind picks up slightly, and it's like he can hear Haley's voice in his head. She doesn't hate you. She's hurt.

"I know." He runs a gloved hand over his face, the cold sending a small shiver through his body. "It's my fault. I just don't know what to do or how to fix it."

Her reply in his mind is almost immediate.Yes you do.

He shakes his head, feeling like an idiot for talking to himself, even though it's helping him work through his emotions. "I don't. I really don't."

For a few moments, all he can hear is the rustle of tree branches and the low whistle of the wind blowing around the headstones. You have to tell her how you feel.

His chest tightens and he lifts his face, letting the cold air sting his skin, like some kind of penance. "Don't you think I want to? Every time I look at her, I'm terrified it's going to come out, but I can't say it." He takes a deep breath as the words start to flow out. He hasn't said them out loud to anyone, but right here feels like the safest place to let them out. "I love her."

Three simple words and it's like a weight lifts off of his chest. He still doesn't have the answers, but at least he can admit it to himself. "I'm in love with her, Hales. The only person in this world that I love more is Jack."

He can practically see her smile as he glances down at her name etched in stone. Then what's the problem.

"I'm gonna fuck it up. I always do." The words come out before he has a chance to think, almost like they've been sitting on the tip of his tongue for ages. He looks down at the ground again, imagining her sitting in front of him. "I did with you."

This time, his mind doesn't have the answer for him. He's finally in a good place with his son, and with the addition of Seaver to the team, his work load has been marginally cut back, so he doesn't really have an excuse anymore. It's just his fear of losing one of the only good things in his life that keeps holding him back.

But you're already losing her.

It's his own voice berating him this time, instead of Haley's.

You're trying so hard to hold her at arm's length that you haven't even noticed that she has stopped pushing her way in.

The wind rushes over him and he looks at the headstone again, his eyes tracing over Haley's name one more time, before he stands up and walks back down the hill.

***

Dave's annual new year's eve party has always been a fairly large spectacle, but when Aaron leads Jack up his driveway that evening, the sheer number of (expensive) cars lined up outside is nearly staggering.

He knew it wouldn't just be the team here tonight, but he wasn't expecting the sheer scale of the party, especially while his mind has been so pre-occupied with the prospect of seeing you outside of work for the first time in weeks.

The front door is unlocked when they reach the top of the porch, so he carefully pushes it open and leads Jack inside. He's only an hour late, but the hallways are already crowded with groups milling around, having loud conversations with a drink in their hand.

He doesn't recognize anyone until he gets to the kitchen, where he sees the rest of the team (minus Dave) chatting around a small snack table.

"Y/N!" Jack shrieks when he sees you, letting go of his hand immediately and running forward. You turn at the sound of his voice, and your face breaks out into a wide smile as the boy barrels over and throws his arms around you.

"Jack-o-lantern!" you gush, lifting him up and hugging him, your eyes falling shut as you squeeze the boy tightly.

Any onlooker can tell that his son loves you. For a while after Haley's death, Jack was closed off to every female figure in his life - even Jess - but he never shied away from you.

I love you, a voice in the back of his mind whispers as you set Jack down and press a kiss to the top of his head. I love you I love you I love you.

After Dave returned from the back patio and whisked away Aaron and Jack to meet some of his other friends, you loitered around the kitchen for a while, chatting with Derek and Spencer about their resolutions for the new year.

You're refilling your glass with some diluted punch when JJ and Emily sneak up behind you with matching mischievous expressions.

"What did you guys do?" you ask, gulping back some punch in preparation for whatever they're about to spring on you.

"There's someone we want you to meet," Emily grins as she reaches forward to loop her arm through yours.

"Oh, no way," you say, already shaking your head before they can elaborate. "You are not setting me up with some random bureau guy again."

"That was only one time," JJ pouts, before beckoning to the hallway across from the kitchen. You glance over her shoulder and spot Will standing with a man you've never seen before. "I had Will bring one of his single friends tonight. He's an architect, and he's super smart and super cute. Totally your type."

You raise an eyebrow as you inspect the man from across the room. He's definitely easy on the eyes, but he's also not your type. There's only one man who fits into that box.

"I don't know," you sigh, setting your glass down on the table behind you. "It's very sudden."

"C'mon," Emily urges, her eyes glinting with amusement. "It'll be good. Just talk and flirt a little, and if you're into it then you have a new year's kiss locked up!"

Kissing someone you just met in front of all of your colleagues sounds like nightmare fuel, but you can't think of another way to get your friends off your back. "Okay, fine, I'll meet him."

After leaving Jack with Henry and the other children, he heads back into the main section of the house, hoping to run into you. He doesn't know what he would say if he does, but anything is better than the avoidance game you've been playing.

He sees Penelope and JJ first, but you're not with them, so he continues forward, deftly stepping around throngs of people conversing in little pockets around the house.

"Hotch, over here!"

He whips around to find Derek, Will, and Dave waving him over to join them in the kitchen. He grabs a piece of cheese off a platter on his way over, and Derek pats him on the back when he reaches the three of them.

They return to their prior topic of conversation, and he tunes them out as his eyes dart around the room, still looking for you. He's about to give up when he spots the familiar hue of your hair down the hall. His lips curve up in a small smile as he watches you lean your head back with a big laugh that he swears he can hear even from all the way over here. He's about to excuse himself from the guys when a hand reaches out to gently touch your forearm, and you don't shake it off.

It's only then that he notices the man you're talking to, and how enamored he looks as you burst into another bout of laughter. Something that feels like ice settles in the pit of his stomach and he turns back to the guys just as they notice what he's been looking at.

"They seem to be hitting it off," Will grins, crossing his arms over his chest. "My friend's a good guy, and he mentioned wanting to meet her after they crossed paths at one of me and JJ's dinner parties."

He notices Dave glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but he can't bear to look at the older man, for fear that he'll give something away. Aaron feels the nauseating pit of jealousy in his stomach, but it's not fair. He pushed you away.

He turns away from you and tries to focus on literally anything else, but it's not long before he's unable to fight the urge to look at you from his spot in the kitchen. You can't see him watching you, and it gives him the obscurity he needs to observe you from afar, but it also makes it much more conspicuous to his friends.

You don't leave the company of Will's friend until much later in the night, and soon it's almost midnight. The countdown starts as everyone in the house lifts their glasses and latches onto their significant others.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

He's turning before he knows what he's doing. He can't help it, it's almost magnetic, the pull you have on him.

You're not looking at him, and he can only see your side profile as you glance up at the clock as it ticks down.

"Five, four, three, two..."

He turns away at the last second, unable to stomach the thought of you kissing someone else, but when the crowd erupts into cheers, he looks back to find that you're gone. His heart rates spikes and he pushes through people, ignoring the pats on his back as people wish him a "Happy new year".

He eventually spots you through the back windows, and he steps out into the frigid air to accompany you on the back porch steps. You're sitting on the top step, your bare arms wrapped around your body for some semblance of warmth, and for a moment, he can't move.

He can't decide if he should go to you or let you have the space you so clearly wanted, but then a voice in the back of his skull yells at him through all the noise. She's your best friend in the world. A few months ago, the answer would have been obvious.

A switch flips and he steps forward, sliding off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You let out a soft sigh as he sinks down next to you, and he watches as your eyes glisten in the lamplight.

You don't look at him as you press your elbows into your knees and rub a hand over your neck. "How did this get so fucked up?"

He sighs too, a heavy sound. "I don't know."

He's still looking at you, at the tears in your eyes, when you finally take a deep breath and turn to face him. A tear slips down your cheek and his brain fires off sparks again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He wants to say it so badly, but then the newest factor in all of his confusion jumps back into the forefront. The Pakistan assignment. He has been trying to push it off, but he's getting so much pressure from the brass, and that's just one more thing he's hiding from you.

He breaks your eye contact and you let out a slow breath, almost like you felt him lose his nerve in real time. Without another word, you wipe the tears from your face and stand up, leaving him out in the cold once again.

***

The bureau gives you a week off at the start of the new year, but you can't enjoy any of your alone time. Every second you let your mind wander, your thoughts are invaded by the look on his face as he turned away from you.

You had seen it in his eyes out there, in the freezing cold air as the clock struck midnight. At least a small part of him felt for you the same way you felt for him. But it's not enough.

You've been alone for so many years. When you married Jeff, you were done. You didn't think you'd have to ever feel this kind of heartbreak again, but now that you feel that kind of love again, you refuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. And what you deserve is someone who can show you how he feels.

Nevertheless, you can't control your subconscious.

That's why you're laying in bed at the end of the week, staring at your nightlight across the room and somehow managing to simultaneously miss him and hate him. It's well past midnight and you can't sleep, but you don't want to give in to the urge that's been tugging at your gut all night.

You're so angry with him, but he's also the only person you want to talk to when you're feeling anything you can't explain. It only takes another minute before you're giving in and snatching your phone off your bedside table.

It rings for a long time before he finally answers.

He whispers your name softly, his voice gravelly as though he just woke up. He sounds confused, but it has to mean something that he answered his phone at this hour.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks, his voice still a bit gruff from the tiredness. "What's wrong?"

I miss you, you want to say. Instead, you panic and ask the first question that pops into your head: "Why do you think The Beatles broke up?"

The line goes silent for a moment before he sighs quietly. "Everyone blames Yoko but you know I think they just stopped working well together creatively."

"It was probably Lennon deciding to leave the band," you say, unsure where you're going with this. "Yeah, that makes the most sense."

"Maybe," he says, his voice a low hum.

There's no tinge of impatience or irritation in his tone, but you still feel awful for waking him up in the early hours of the morning to chat about a band.

You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what you're about to say, but the breath catches in your throat as a small sob escapes. "I'm so mad at you."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, before Aaron exhales sharply. "I know."

Your resolve fades almost immediately and you sink back into your pillows. "I'm not mad at you." He quietly huffs out a laugh, but you can tell his heart isn't in it. "I'm hurt, and yeah, I'm kind of mad at you, but the only person I want to talk to is you."

You can hear his breath stutter over the speaker, and he rears up to say something, before thinking better of it. "It's late, Y/N. You should go to bed."

"Yeah," you say eventually, rubbing tears of frustration from your eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah."

"No," he says quickly, his voice hurried as though he's afraid you'll hang up. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you called."

Your heart flutters pathetically. "Okay."

"Why were you up anyway?" he asks after a moment.

You shrug, even though he can't see you, wiping away the last remnants of your tears. "Couldn't sleep."

Something that sounds like a quiet chuckle floats into your ears. "Try turning off that massive nightlight."

Your eyes widen and you inadvertently glance over at the beacon of light plugged in across the room. "What nightlight?"

He hums again. "Goodnight, Y/N." I love you.

"Goodnight, Aaron." I love you too.

***

It started when Emily arrived late to the briefing. She was never late, so that itself was enough to set off your alarms, but then you noticed her fingers. She's biting her nails again.

Aaron finishes briefing you all about the two families murdered in house fires in the DC area, before you disperse and head back to your desks to read up about the evidence.

When you drop your bag down and sink into your chair, you don't miss how Spencer visibly flinches in his seat, his eyes twitching with exhaustion.

"Sorry, Spence," you say earnestly, turning to him with an anxious look. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answers quickly, his eyes darting back down to the case file. "I'm... I'm...I'm sure these victims overlap somehow. Garcia pulled their phone numbers, but so far I can't find anything."

You've been working with him long enough to notice when he's deflecting, especially when he's doing such a bad job of it. "Spencer, you just jumped."

He takes a deep breath and you're suddenly grateful that his shorter haircut allows you to get a better view of his expression, even with his head down. "I've been having these really intense headaches lately." "Have you seen a doctor?" you ask, sliding your chair in to get a better look at him. "Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure it out." "I'm sorry," you say genuinely as guilt and shame flood your veins. You've been so preoccupied with your own drama that you haven't been paying any attention to your friends. First Emily, and now Spencer. "Does anyone know?"

His lips press into an adorable line. "You." "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, your eyebrows scrunching down. "I'm glad you're telling me now." "I know," he nods. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"I won't make a big deal out of it," you tell him, your lips curving up in a playful smile, "if that's what you were worried about."

"Thanks," he mutters, but you can tell his heart isn't really in it.

It's been so long since you sat down and caught up with your teammates, and given how weird Emily has been acting, you figure it's about time.

"Have you noticed anything off with Emily?"

It's Penelope who comes to you first about the change in your teammate's disposition. You had clocked the small jab Emily had thrown at her after the briefing, but didn't want to intrude in case it was personal. You're starting to realize it might be a lot more personal than you originally thought.

"I have," you say simply, glancing back at her across the bullpen. Her head is down and her shoulders are hunched forward as she quickly types something out on her phone.

She waits for another moment before jolting upright and standing up. Before either of you can get a chance to ask what's wrong, she is jetting off to the bathroom.

"I got this one," you tell Penelope before strutting off to follow her.

She's looking at her phone again when the bathroom door shuts behind you, and you approach her slowly so as not to spook her. "Hey, I just wanted to check up on you. You sped out of there."

"I'm fine," she says, trying to brush away your worry with a wave of her hand.

You frown, taking a step forward. "Are you sure? I noticed you've been biting your-"

"Don't profile me, Y/N," she snaps, her head turning to level you with a glare that would have scared the shit out of you if you didn't know her so well. It doesn't last long though, and before you can get another word out, she's already apologizing. "I'm sorry. I-I'm gonna be alright. I promise. I'm just having this nightmare."

She details her dream to you, and the profiler in you can't help but relate it to her own lack of trust, but then she looks at you with a genuine smile and you just have to smile back.

"Somehow, you.." she pauses for a beat. "You always make me feel better. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Her words feel so final, like she's saying goodbye, and a bolt of terror shoots through you before you decide you're being dramatic.

She's your friend. She's gonna be alright.

Emily's gone. She slipped out during Aaron's multi-agency task force briefing, and none of you noticed.

How could you not have noticed?

You're kicking yourself as Spencer pulls out a sheet of paper from one of Emily's contacts, with a list of undercover names all with the initials L.R.

"Prentiss is the last name on the list," Rossi deduces as you mentally check back into the conversation. Your eyes scan the board with the name 'Lauren Reynolds' written at the top. "That means she's on Doyle's list too."

"Guys," Aaron calls out from Emily's desk, holding up her things in his hands, "she left her badge and gun."

"Why would she do that?" Penelope asks, her voice small like a child's. "We're her family."

That's when you finally find your voice. "She ran to protect us." You turn to Aaron then, your eyes flashing over his like it's the first time you've ever really looked at him. "How do we find her?"

"We need to profile their behavior," he instructs, moving to the front board. "Doyle is our unsub and Prentiss is our victim. We treat it like any other case."

There's the small sound of a door opening and Aaron looks up, beckoning his chin to the back. "Because terrorism isn't an area we specialize in, I've reached out to an expert from the State Department...someone who can also shed light on Prentiss' past."

You whip around to the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair walking into the briefing room. The tension in your shoulders abates for a split second as gratitude cascades over you. God, you missed her.

JJ saunters forward and nods at each of you, her expression already rigid with concentration. "Let's get to work."

Profiling Emily takes you all to Boston, where the evidence from the previous victims adds up to the conclusion that Doyle is a family annihilator. When you also find out that he has a secret son, you and Derek lead the team to the warehouse where the son was last taken, in the hopes that Emily would have made the same connection.

The sound of a loud crash sends you running, but Derek is faster and he gets there before you. You enter the back room to find Emily bleeding out on the floor, a large wooden post stuck through her abdomen.

"I got her!" he yells into his comms before pressing his hands onto her wound. "Prentiss. It's me, I'm right here."

She mumbles something that sounds like his name and your chest floods with relief. You step out of the room to call for a medic, but when you get back, she isn't moving.

"Emily!" Derek yells as you sink to your knees beside him. Your pants are wet with her blood, and it feels like ice against your skin. How can there be so much blood in the human body?

"Come on," he pleads, tightening his grip on her hand. "Stay with me!"

"Emily, please," you whisper, your throat hoarse from the unshed tears. You press your fingers to her pulse. "Please."

The medics come eventually, and she is taken to the hospital, where the whole team is holed up in the waiting room. Spencer hasn't stopped pacing since she was taken into surgery and you can't seem to take your face out of your hands, even as people press comforting pats on your shoulders.

You don't notice anything going on around you until JJ comes back from speaking with the doctor with tears in her eyes. No, oh god no.

You barely register her words as she whispers, "She never made it off the table."

It's only then that you stand up. You're not sure what you're planning to do, but as soon as you try to move, your legs start shaking, like you're slipping in quicksand. Aaron steps towards you just as your body gives out and you collapse onto him, quiet sobs bubbling out of your throat.

"She was just here," you cry into his chest while you clutch his shirt as though your life depends on it. "How can she be gone?"

His hands rub comforting circles into your back as his arms tighten around you, keeping you upright, and you can't help but imagine that this picture looks vaguely reminiscent of his home last year when you held him up as he broke down.

Emily's gone.

You can't even remember why you were so angry with him before. Everything outside of this moment feels so trivial, like you've been wasting so much time. You need him now, and you're so thankful he's here to hold you up even though his pain is just as big as yours.

Aaron wraps himself tighter around you, fighting the tears that are rushing forward, because they just aren't fair. His whole team is falling apart in front of him, and he's one of two people here who knows the truth.

You choke out another sob and he tugs you upward, helping you stand again as you wipe the tears from your face. Out of the corner of his periphery, he sees JJ pull Spencer into a hug, and she meets his eye over the younger agent's shoulder. So much pain.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you ask suddenly, your voice so small he's sure he's the only person who can hear you. "How are we supposed to keep going?"

The familiar echoing emptiness of guilt swallows him whole and he sucks in a sharp breath in a futile effort to keep himself from drowning. Your glistening eyes are so wide with despair, and he pulls you back into his arms, mostly for comfort, but also because he can't stand to see you in pain for much longer. When he finally finds his voice, all that comes out is, "I don't know."

***

You can barely remember the funeral.

When you try to think about it, there are flashes of white gloves and red roses and rough, brown dirt, but the only thing that really sticks out is the pressure of Aaron's hand over yours as you stood in front of her casket while they lowered her into the ground.

So many funerals, so many gravestones. The eery familiarity that has made you numb to the loss, even as it threatens to tear you apart each time you let yourself think about her.

It has become a regular passage in the story of your life: meet someone new, learn to love again, and then lose them.

Tears prick your eyes as you settle into the stiff wooden chair in your kitchen. The team has been organizing impromptu get-togethers all month, mostly at the last minute and usually late at night. That's when the loneliness hits the hardest.

You figure you should be used to it by now. Deep down, you know it's not something anyone ever gets used to, but believing that the pain will abate is easier than realizing it'll always be there, buried in your bones.

The pain of your mother's death is still a phantom bruise under your skin, always there, but never at the forefront until you press hard enough. Losing Jeff was a whole other monster, hiding under your bed and within the confines of your mind, ready to pounce the moment you closed your eyes. Haley, on the other hand, was a fresh wound; sometimes, you still aren't sure that the gash has fully closed, but with time it has gotten easier to pretend that things aren't awful all the time.

You wipe a loose tear from your cheek as you check your phone messages and tidy up some of the plates from your table. Aaron came over last night, and you both sat in silence for a long time, until a photo of Emily on your computer brought you to tears again. He held you for hours as you shook in his arms, trying to keep yourself together, but ultimately failing.

The silver lining of his renewed presence in your life doesn't feel as sweet as it should, given the circumstances, but you'll take any win you can get. If nothing else, you missed the feel of his arms around you.

You flinch as the dishes clink together loudly when you set them in the sink, and you watch the water dribble from the faucet for a long time, pretending that all you see isn't her blood.

***

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to be there for you more than anything else in this world, but seeing you break down is like being stabbed all over again, only this time it's his own fault.

When you called last night, he couldn't stay away. He misses you like he's missing a limb, and even if he wanted to stop himself from seeing you, he knows he couldn't. Your grief has brought you back to him, but it feels wretched, even as he shoves aside his guilt for an evening to comfort you at this low.

He had lost count of the number of work-related things he had kept from Haley when they were married, but he always had the excuse that she didn't need to know. That her life would be better without the knowledge of all the horrors that circled them everyday.

He doesn't have the same excuse with you. You are well-acquainted with the tragedies that life brings, and if it was up to him, he would spill every secret he has ever hidden, because he loves you, and you're one of the last people in this world who still trusts him, and he's so scared that after this, he'll lose that too.

But he keeps his mouth shut. And when Garcia invites him to a get-together at your place, he politely declines, because if he knows you all have each other, then he can take one night off from the debilitating guilt he somehow still hasn't learned to shoulder after all these years.

***

"Come on in."

Spencer, Derek, and Penelope shuffle into your house, handing you bottles of wine and bags of assorted snacks, before plopping down on your couch and making themselves at home. They've been over so many times in the last few weeks that you figure it basically is their second home at this point, not that you mind.

None of you want to be alone, and that's why it works.

"What are we watching tonight?" Derek asks, his voice nonchalant, like it's just another movie night with your colleagues. He always starts the night acting like everything's fine, and it really irked you the first time he came over, until you realized it was a front that he just needed time to shed. "Didn't you say last time that you have the original Jaws DVD?"

"What if we watched The Empire Strike Back?" Spencer asks timidly from under a slew of blankets that Penelope has covered both of them with. His nightly ritual involves suggesting one of his favorite movies, even though it always gets immediately shot down.

Derek chuffs, snagging some of the blanket from off your lap. "Maybe another night, kid."

"I don't care what we watch," Penelope sighs as she pulls open a bag of popcorn and chucks a handful into her mouth, "as long as it isn't sad." That's her only request. Nothing sad, please. Your nightly ritual is like a practiced dance. Each of you playing your parts, reciting your lines the same way, keeping it familiar. Establishing a routine.

You stand up, taking your cue, and grab a random DVD from your cabinet. Ten minutes later, you're all watching The Empire Strikes Back, and Spencer cracks something that looks like a smile for the first time since before the funeral.

You watch the movie in silence, and when the credits roll, you watch the names scroll over the screen as you muster up the energy to find the remote. When you finally click the TV off, the silence feels suffocating, and you hear Penelope sniffle from next to you.

Throwing your arm around her shoulder, you all squish yourselves together, like the pressure will keep the emotions in.

After a long pause, Spencer is the first to speak. "It'll get better, right?"

"It has to," Derek sighs, his chin falling to his chest as he takes in a deep breath. You know him well enough to be able to translate his exasperation into anguish, even as he tries to hide it.

"It will get better." You glance around the couch at your friends - the people who have been here for you through all of it - and nod your head, choosing this moment to really believe it. "It will."

***

It doesn't.

A week later, you are storming into Aaron's apartment after he dropped Jack off to stay with Jess, your words already pouring out even before he can shut the door behind you.

"How could you take the assignment?"

Your tone is laced with malice, but he can still hear the hurt underneath.

"How could you leave us here after everything that happened?"

This time the pain is clearer. Your voice breaks at the end and he steps forward to do something, but you twist your body away.

His hands fall hopelessly back to his sides and he doesn't know how to explain this to you, when he can't even explain it to himself.

"Strauss left your brief in the conference room." Your words are stronger now, and he looks up, his eyes squinting with anticipation. "You've known about this since before the new year."

You're right. He's known about the prospect of this assignment for almost a year, and then after, when it became a real possibility, he still chose not to tell you. Maybe before, he had the excuse that you weren't speaking to him, but after Emily...he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?" you ask, the anguish coming forward in full force. "We need you here. Jack needs you. I need you."

He needs you too. But he also needs to stop hurting you. And he can't see that happening while he's still here.

"I'm sorry," he whispers softly. I love you, I'm sorry.

You let out a sigh and your shoulders fall, like you've lost all of the fight within you. You look so defeated, and it feels worse than when you were yelling at him.

You're right here, but you feel so far away, like he's looking at you through tinted glass.

"Fine," you say after a beat. "Call me when you're leaving."

Your shoulder brushes his as you whip past him, and he doesn't muster up the courage to speak again until you're already gone.

***

The call comes soon. Too soon.

You meet him at his apartment, and Jack immediately gives you a hug before latching himself back onto his father. You don't know what Aaron told him, given how you don't even know how long he's going to be gone, but you can't imagine it was helpful to a six year old boy who only understands that his father is leaving for a long time.

"I called Jess to pick him up," Aaron explains in a hushed whisper as Jack runs out to get his shoes, "but she's busy until the afternoon."

"That's okay," you say, crossing your arms in front of you. It's a defensive maneuver that's about all you can muster up right now. "I can drop him off at her house after we get you out of here."

You try to say it lightly, but your tone sharpens at the end, making him flinch. You sigh, an apology in itself, because you're trying so hard to be supportive. You know you're mad at him - no matter how hard you try not to be - but this isn't the time to show your anger.

Jack comes back into the living room, and you usher the young boy out the door as Aaron lugs his duffel bags behind you and out to the car. The drive is mostly silent, and Jack doesn't say a word until you help him out of his carseat and onto the tarmac at the base.

"I'm gonna miss you, Daddy," he whispers, his little hands reaching up to grab his father's hand. "Come home soon."

Aaron picks him up and squeezes him in a big hug, before setting him back down on the ground. He looks at you then and you shrug, pressing your lips together. "What he said."

"I don't know how long this is going to take," he says, mostly directing his words at Jack, even though he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Probably a few months though."

A few months. That shouldn't feel as long as it does.

"Bye buddy," he says then, kneeling down to hug his son again. "Go sit in Y/N's car so I can talk to her about some grown up stuff for a minute."

Jack bounces back to where your car is parked, and you watch him get in before turning back to look at Aaron. There's a resoluteness in his expression that shouldn't surprise you, given how driven he is by his sense of duty, but it still catches you off guard.

"You'll be okay there?" you ask, needing to get that out of the way before the rest of it.

He nods, before inching his hand forward to brush against yours. It's a small gesture, but you're not ready yet.

"I'm still angry," you whisper, pulling your hand back slightly. "I don't want to be, because you're leaving, and I want you to have a clear head out there, but I can't help it."

"It's okay," he says softly, his brow furrowing.

"No," you sigh, shaking your head. Your throat is thickening with the threat of tears and you don't want to cry in front of him now either, but there are too many emotions swirling around your brain to keep any of them straight. "I'm not really mad, okay. I know you're trying to do the right thing, but she's gone, and the team is not okay right now, and I need to find a way to handle it on my own."

I can't do it by myself, you want to say. I'm in love with you and you're making it seem so easy to leave me here to shoulder the burden of everyone's grief.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice softer this time.

You're so much better than me, he thinks as he watches you stand so stoically before him. I love you and I can't bear to see you in pain when I'm part of the reason why.

"It's okay," you repeat after a beat. Then you reach forward and take his hand, like he tried to do earlier. His hand is warm and calloused, and it feels rough against your palm, but it grounds you, tethering you to this moment. "I'll see you when you get back."

He nods, before pulling you forward gently into a hug. Your chin tilts up to sit on his shoulder and he squeezes you to him once before letting you go.

When he lifts his bags and walks toward the loading ramp, Jack leaps out of the car and grabs your hand as you both wave goodbye.

He flashes you both one last smile before waving back and disappearing into the plane.

***

The first month is the easiest. You let the futile anger take over; let yourself pretend that you don't actually miss him.

Seeing Jack and Jess makes it less painful, and you slowly find yourself spending more time with them than at home. Jess tries to spend time with Jack at Aaron's apartment to help him maintain a stable environment, but with his father gone, it doesn't help you notice the absence less.

"He's not eating as much," Jess mentions to you one night after she puts him to bed and joins you out in the living room. At first, being at his place without him felt intrusive, but you've gotten used to being there. "He was picking at his food all through dinner."

"I noticed that," you agree as you pat the spot beside you on the couch. "I'm sure it's just a picky eating phase. Once he settles back into a routine with you it should be fine."

"With us," she corrects with a small smile. "I need all the help I can get, and I really appreciate you being here so often."

"Oh, honey, of course." You give her forearm a squeeze before grabbing both of your empty glasses from the table and taking them to the sink. "I was worried I was becoming more of a burden on you by being here so much, but I'm glad it's welcome company."

"Always," she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. You set the glasses down and turn back to see her staring at the tiny picture frame of her and Haley on her counter. "She always made it look so easy."

You nod, not wanting to interrupt her moment. After a beat, Jess releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. "She was the perfect mother. If I can be half as good of a caretaker for Jack as she was, I'll know I'm doing something right."

You smile unconsciously, remembering a moment from years ago. "I swear Aaron said the exact same thing once. He was upset about leaving work late again when they first had Jack, and I had to assure him that he wouldn't miss every childhood milestone just because he had to work late once in a while."

He was so terrified of being anything like his father. You tried your best to show him how impossible that was, but those are the kinds of things people have to learn on their own.

Jess looks down, deep in thought, and your phone chimes then with a new message. It's from Derek: Hotch sat phone call, 15 mins

"Jess," you whisper, getting her attention again. "Aaron is scheduled to call us over the satellite phone in a little bit. I'm gonna go into the office to see if I can talk to him. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

She thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "Just that Jack and I are doing well. And we miss him."

You nod and press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing your coat and driving over to the field office. The sky is dark by the time you arrive, and it feels foreign to walk into an empty bullpen. The team has shrunk so much since he left, and lately it's just been you, Spencer, Derek, Rossi, and Penelope around here.

You knock on Aaron's office door once before stepping inside.

"Sounds good," Derek is saying as you shut the door behind you. "Yeah, keep us updated." He sees you then and beckons you closer before turning back to the phone. "Y/N's here. I'll hand it to her."

You take the phone from him and tentatively press it to your ear. There's a slight buzzing sound and when he says "Hello?", his voice sounds far away.

"Hi," you say softly, turning your back to Derek for some semblance of privacy, but he has already pulled out his phone and started typing something. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he says, sounding slightly distracted. "It's really busy over here. How are yo- you all doing? Jack and Jessica?"

"They're good," you tell him, hoping he can't hear the tightness in your voice over hearing his for the first time in weeks. "They really miss you. We all do."

"I miss you guys too."

You hear some muffled voices on the other end of the line, and you jump in with your questions before he gets called away. "Any updates I can ask about? Like when you'll be done."

"Not right now," he says with a sigh. "It's still need-to-know."

"Right," you whisper rigidly, even though it's not fair. He's trying his best, and he's doing what's right, but you keep punishing him. Because of your own feelings, your brain adds at the end.

"It's protocol," he says, even though you're both well aware of how this works.

"I know," you sigh, your fingers gripping the phone tightly. "I have to go back to Jess's."

"Y/N, wait-" he starts, but you are already handing the phone back to Derek.

He takes it uncertainly, but you just shake your head and exit the office.

***

"Did you watch the other movie I gave you?"

You whip your head around to look at Spencer, who is looking at you intently. You had been staring at Aaron's office door for the better part of the last hour.

You frown apologetically. "Not yet, Spence." He had loaned you his DVD of one of his favorite Star Wars movies, and each time you tried watching it, you were just reminded of the immediate aftermath of losing Emily. "I'll find time soon, though."

"That's okay," he shrugs as you inadvertently glance up at the door again. "I know it isn't everyone's thing. I just thought you seemed to enjoy the one we watched at the movie night."

"I did," you assure him, reaching out to pat his hand. "I promise I just haven't found time yet."

He smiles at you, and you return it before your eyes dart up to Aaron's office door at the sight of movement. A small, unrealistic part of you expects Aaron to emerge, but it's Derek instead. Derek took over his office a month after he left to Pakistan, because the secure line was already set up.

"He has a lot on his plate these days," Spencer says, drawing your attention back. He's watching Derek speak to someone at the top of the stairs, his forehead crinkled with stress.

"We're down quite a few hands," you nod, pursing your lips. "Maybe we can convince Derek to bring JJ back permanently."

Spencer lights up and you can't help but grin too. "We definitely should."

***

The cases start piling up, and you welcome the distraction as the passing months begin to weigh on you. The whole team has been under a lot of pressure from the brass, and Strauss has been hinting at a prolonged assignment in Pakistan that may take up even more of his time.

After a particularly grisly case, you invite Penelope over to unwind with some wine and chatting. It doesn't escape your notice that you're missing half of your usual girls' night attendees, but you keep the wine flowing, and soon you aren't focusing on anything other than the new guy Penelope met at her grocery store.

"He's so sweet," she gushes as she leans over the table to grab another chip. You're both sitting on the floor of your living room, and you reach out hastily to steady her glass as it gets precariously close to spilling over. "And I think it says a lot that he shops at such a high quality grocery store."

"Oh, absolutely," you nod, lifting your own glass in a mock salute. "You can tell a lot about a man by how he eats."

"Tell me about it," she sighs, her words starting to slur. Maybe opening the second bottle was too much. "I once dated a guy who only ate protein bars and steak."

Your face twists in disgust, and you set your glass down, feeling the rush of tipsiness hit you. "That's definitely not a balanced diet."

"I tried to tell him," Penelope says, before her face falls into a sad frown. "I really tried."

"Okay, okay," you say, trying to change the subject as her eyes fill with drunk tears. "Back to the grocery store man."

Her face breaks into a wide smile comically fast and you let out a high laugh. "He's so sweet. He really is just the sweetest guy."

"So I've heard," you grin, taking another sip of wine.

Turns out your last glass was one too many, because an hour later, after sending Penelope off in a cab and clearing away your dishes, you're still feeling the buzz from earlier.

Your face feels comfortably warm and you grab your phone from the counter, with the intention to call Emily, when you suddenly remember-

Your smile falls in an instant and tears are rushing forward before you can clearly form a coherent thought. You drop the phone and rush upstairs to take a hot shower to wind down and calm yourself, but even as the burning water washes over you, you still feel wound tight, like your emotions are trapped inside of you.

She was the first person you would always call after a tipsy night, and now she's gone.

Everybody's gone.

JJ, Emily, Aaron. Aaron.

A sob chokes out and you press your hand over your mouth, your body caving forward under the billowing steam fogging up the glass. You miss him so much, it's like you're not even yourself anymore.

You let out another soft sob as the water begins to calm you down, but you can still feel the echoing hollowness inside of you. You wish he was here, holding you, telling you it would all be okay. That you didn't ruin everything by pushing too hard, too fast. That you love him and he loves you, and it can all be perfect again.

"It'll be okay," his voice whispers from behind you, and suddenly he's there. Not really, but with your eyes closed and your mind still foggy, it almost feels real. "I'm sorry I left. I should've been here."

"You should be," you gasp out as his arms close around you from behind, holding you tightly under the soothing warmth of the water. "You left me."

"I know," he says, his breath tingling the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I'll never leave again. I promise."

"You promise," you whisper, mostly to yourself, as you turn around. His lips glide over your shoulder and up your neck, and suddenly his mouth is on yours.

You gasp as his hands slide down your body, his fingers gently caressing the sides of your breasts as he makes his way to your waist. His lips are so soft against yours and when his tongue runs along the seam of your mouth, you moan loudly, letting him swallow up the sounds.

He feels so real under your hands as you trace the jagged scars along his abdomen, and when his tongue glides down your-

You sit up with a gasp, your head pounding with the beginnings of an oncoming wine hangover. Your sheets are messily strewn around you, and your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can't bring yourself to get up. You take a large gulp of water from the glass on your nightstand and check the time: 3:02 AM.

Falling back with a huff, you run a hand over your face and fruitlessly try to sleep through the rest of the night.

***

Summer brings its own set of struggles.

The heat makes each case feel ten times longer than it already is, and with September fast approaching, Jack gets more and more antsy about starting school for the first time.

"He's been shut in his room all day," Jess sighs over the line as you make yourself coffee with your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. "I think he's sad that he's starting school without either of his parents here."

Your heart breaks as you imagine Jack alone in his room, waiting and wishing for his dad to come back in time for his first day of school. Then an idea pops into your head.

"I think I know what to do."

An hour later, you, Jess, and Jack are waiting in line, under the beating sun, to get into the Smithsonian's zoo. Even tho you can already feel the sweat starting to drip down your back, Jack looks downright giddy, so you take the win.

When you finally get inside, he makes a beeline for the monkey exhibits, and you and Jess meander along behind him, chatting about her new side gig.

"I'm starting the part-time job in the fall," she explains as you stop behind Jack at the front of the chimpanzee enclosure. "It works out with the start of the school year, in case Aaron is gone for a while longer."

"That sounds great," you smile, giving her a small side squeeze. "You deserve something to take your mind off of everything too."

She shrugs, ever the neutral party, before looking at you with a smirk. "I hear there are some changes happening at the BAU as well?"

"Right!" you grin, following Jack to the next exhibit. "JJ was helping out temporarily, but she's officially back on the team. She also mentioned to me that she might be considering enrolling in profiler training so she can be a full-time field agent."

"Good for her," Jess smiles. "Lord knows you guys could use some extra manpower right now."

It's right then that your phone chirps with a text from Derek saying that Aaron is calling in again this afternoon. The urge to speak to him for the first time in weeks tugs at your gut, but then you glance over at Jack, who looks happy for the first time in just as long, and before you know it, you're typing back your response: Not today. Busy with Jack.

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you don't have an excuse.

You're at work, scribbling out the last few lines of your latest case report, when Derek tries to call you into his office. You haven't spoken to him in over a month, and he's asked for you each time he called, but still you refuse.

"Y/N, come on," Derek chuffs, running a hand over his face. "You know he wants to talk to you. He's by himself over there."

That's what gets you. By himself. As though you aren't alone too. As though you hadn't been completely fucking alone when, over the weekend, you found a pair of socks Emily must have forgotten at your place months ago, and had a full body breakdown on the floor of our foyer.

Each time you're close to forgetting that he left you here to fend for yourself, it comes back in full force, and right now, you would rather do just about anything other than put on a neutral face and ask him how he's doing over there.

"Next time," you say, hoping the finality comes across in your tone. It must have worked, because although Derek shakes his head disappointedly, he doesn't ask again.

When you go to Aaron's place after work to see Jack, Jess pulls you aside, a worried look on her face.

"We spoke to Aaron yesterday," she explains, her arms crossed over her chest. The bureau set up a secure line for them so she and Jack could speak to him periodically. "He seemed to be doing well."

"That's great," you say with a nod, unsure of why she's updating you when she thinks you spoke to him today. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving away your concern. "I told him about Jack starting school in a few weeks, and about my new job. Then when I mentioned you - how you've been coming here a lot - he looked really happy that you were involved, but...he sounded off for the rest of the call."

Your shoulders tense up and you try to relax, so as not to give yourself away. "Damn Jess, they should make you a profiler."

She says your name sternly, and you can hear the Haley in her voice. "I'm serious. Have you guys not been speaking?"

"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "I just need some more time, but I'll talk to him soon."

She twists her lips into a sad frown and you sigh, not knowing what to say, but she beats you to it. "He misses you...and I can tell you miss him."

You don't have an answer that she will want to hear, so you stick with the usual. "I'll talk to him next time."

***

"Do I have to go?"

Jack's bottom lip juts out in a sad pout as you adjust the straps of his little backpack on his shoulders.

"It's your first day of school, bud!" Jess is trying to sound excited, but you can hear the sadness in her voice too, now that she won't have Jack all hours of the day anymore. "It's an exciting time!"

"You got this, baby," you smile, pressing a loud kiss to the top of his head. "Your dad is so proud of you."

"Your mom would be too," Jess adds with a sad smile. "Now go on in, Jack. I'll be right here waiting for you when the last bell rings."

He considers this for a moment, before nodding. Then he looks at you. "What about you?"

"I have to work," you say softly, matching his pout and making him let out a small giggle. "But you can tell me all about your first day when I see you this weekend, okay?"

"Okay," he nods, before grabbing the straps of his backpack and marching toward the front door.

"There he goes," Jess says wistfully, linking her arm through yours.

You let out a small sigh before shooting her a smile. You love him so much, and you're so glad you get to be here as he grows up, but you're so sad that Haley is gone and he's missing out on this moment. "They grow up so fast."

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you're talking to Dave in his office about his latest cabin trip. He is filling you in on the species of fish that live in the lake behind his place when Derek walks in with the notification that Aaron is on the other end of the line in his office.

Dave nods, saying he'll speak with him at the end, and Derek almost skips over you until you follow him out the door.

"You sure?" he asks as you follow him up the stairs.

You nod, bracing yourself for the guilt as you pick up the sat phone. "Hello?"

"Morgan?" Aaron asks, his voice confused over the line.

"No," you say, shaking your head even though he can't see you. "It's me."

There's a moment of silence before he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm glad you could come in."

You say something that sounds like "of course" and suddenly he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He hasn't heard from you in weeks, and even though he's probably coming home soon, he's so happy to hear your voice he could cry.

"Jess said you were there for Jack's first day," he says slowly, trying to find his voice. "Thank you for doing that. I know it's a lot before coming into work."

"It's not," you say genuinely, momentarily alleviating all of the anxiety he has been having around missing everything in his son's life. "He's the perfect kid. I'm lucky to be a part of his life."

He closes his eyes, wishing with every fiber of his being that he was there with you right now, and not thousands of miles away. "Thank you."

"Any time."

There's silence for a few moments before your breath stutters. "Do you know when you're coming back?"

His heart cracks at the soft sadness in your voice, but he still isn't allowed to share anything that is strictly need-to-know. "I don't."

Your breath catches in your throat and he hears the quiet sob as it breaks over the line. "I miss you, Aaron."

His fingers grip the phone so tightly he's afraid it may shatter in his hands, but there's nothing else tethering him to his life back home. This metal box is the one thing that is keeping him alive out here, and even though he left home so that he could stop lying to you, he's still doing it.

That's why he swallows thickly and says the one thing he knows isn't a lie: "I miss you too."

***

The team got called into the office for an emergency that no one has explained to any of you, and you take a seat in the briefing room as everyone else files in, matching looks of confusion all around you.

"Anyone know what we're doing here?" Dave asks as he leans back in his chair.

You're about to shrug when a figure walks into the room in a dark blue button down and an unfamiliar scruffy beard.

Your eyes widen and your breath leaves your body as you start to stand up, but then he motions for you all to take a seat, so you sink back down. He glances at everyone in the room before his eyes finally land on you. You can't believe he's here. That he knew he was coming back and still didn't tell you.

"What's going on?" Derek asks, breaking your eye contact with a jolt. "Everything all right?" Aaron ignores him. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

You don't know why he's bringing this up again but then he continues. "The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration."

Your heart falls. No, there's no way. "Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security." Your teammates break their silence at the same time.

"She's alive?"

"But we buried her..."

You're still unable to suck in a big enough breath to regain the ability to speak, but then another figure walks in and you suddenly understand what people mean when they say their heart skips a beat.

"Oh my god," Penelope whispers from behind you as your feet unconsciously carry you forward and toward her. Toward Emily.

You pull her into your arms, relishing the feeling of your friend hugging you back after you thought you would never see her again. Her arms squeeze you tightly and you suck in a shuddering breath, trying to calm down your heart rate.

She's alive. Emily's alive. Aaron's back and Emily's alive.

The thoughts ping pong around your brain, fighting for dominance, but another one buried deeper in your mind floats to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

He lied.

TAGLIST:@citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @chronicallybubbly, @shilphy87

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toxycodone · 3 months

Text

𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 !

𝘤𝘸. 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘰𝘴, 𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘶, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬

Laios:

I genuinely think Laios is attracted to the unconventional or stereotypically attractive. Anyone with unique features, personality quirks, etc. If you don't fit in, you're more willing to catch his eye.

He finds it difficult to really like? Gain an interest in someone who doesn't really "stick out". I think it's clear with the way he treats Kabru that like! People kinda are a blur to him! So! anything that makes someone stick out will catch his interest and he'd be more willing to remember them + actually continue to think about them.

MUST. Share his interest in monsters/animals. This is very important. Like there must be a shared interest there whether its just about anatomy, behavior, etc. I just think he needs to be accepted to talk about this and share fun facts. He likes it. Cooking or an interest in food would also be another plus.

Also just? He likes really easygoing people who aren't super judgemental. Laios is really unapologetically himself and he gets chewed out for it by his friends enough. He's very self aware when it comes to his own issues (esp by the end of the manga) so. Yeah. Just someone who he doesn't feel the need to mask around.

Honestly, maybe someone childish would fit his vibe too? I mean this in a more lighthearted sense. Like someone he could play tag with or goof around in the woods with. He missed out on being a kid for a while, and he's still kinda interested in stuff like that (bug collecting, cool rocks, etc.). Even in post manga he still wants this.

Also uhhhh beastkin/monsters/whatever of any kind get bonus points. Do they have to be this way? No. But. It would definitely do some favors to be feral/wild in some way like this.

Kabru:

Okay I am not saying this is healthy or anything, but Kabru is ridiculously attracted to fixer-uppers. The main character/savior/hero complex kicks in and he cannot help it.

This can either be super good for him if the person is like. not terrible and is actually okay with this. but uh. that isn't always the case. Bro is often setting himself up for some sort of situationship most of the time. He cannot catch a break.

But he totally needs to be confronted about this to have a relationship work out. Hope you can be at least a little assertive!

Oh and the people pleasing. It's going so far. Please, I-....

He needs to be stopped.

Ultimately. He's gonna go after the people who show the least interest in him and this SPECIFICALLY comes from his own insecurities as a person.

But in the end he's gonna truly fall for someone who can put their foot down and confront him about these issues. He's so insightful and perceptive when it comes to others and can easily point out and help you with you're own shortcomings. But he is super blind to his own faults. Legit does not. Even realize.

He honestly needs someone to help him grow, because in my eyes I can see him like even post manga being pretty stagnant here so . Yeah. You don't need to be like some badass assertive person either. As long as you can just sit down and have a serious conversation w him about this I think it'd go well.

And he'd fall for you because I think it's the first time he genuinely sees someone who recognizes things that are bad about him + still loves him despite that + wants him to grow as a person and assert his own wishes and needs more. Yeah. I just have a lot of feelings about that.

Chilchuck:

This goes two ways.

Non Toxic Route

He'd easily see himself falling for someone mature and responsible. It would start out as just a professional admiration but it would slowly become more intimate as Chilchuck starts to enjoy their more unique personality traits (and even ones he'd consider annoying) --like being feisty, or maybe they're picky, or they can be silly sometimes. That type of thing.

It's a total slow burn with him.

But he also likes people who are more lowkey. Chilchuck is not a "falls for you immediately/puppy love" kinda guy. He's jaded and has a past and has KIDS so. He needs to be treated gently and not rushed into things. Anyone who lets him come to them and start to be more affectionate without demanding it...yeah. Handle him with care PLEASE.

And speaking of this...he wants to keep up appearances since he does value his professional life and has kids and an ex-wife. So he wants someone that can blend into this life without causing drama or more headaches (his party gives him plenty. pls.)

"Toxic"/Not Gonna Last Route

Chilchuck is easily motivated by the more basic pleasures of life, so I can definitely see him having a bootycall that becomes some weird "what are we" type of vibe.

He's like...in the back of his mind the type to enjoy a "dirty little secret". Something he thinks only him and this person know about. But as time goes on he eventually gets emotionally involved with them and is like "we need to cut this off".

It is an extremely painful breakup on his end for sure and makes him more jaded when its literally! His own fault.

#playing around w shi #laios touden #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck tims #kabru of utaya #dungeon food #my writing #x reader #delicious in dungeon

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vagabond-umlaut · 6 months

Text

'til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours

then her eyes look at me, love breaks my bones and I laugh

gojo satoru x wife!reader; 18+ content so mdni; mostly tooth-rotting domestic fluff w mild smut; baby-making stuff [it's breeding, y'all- but not written in a very spicy way... i'm too shy; wht's my fault in tht]; satoru & you're a bit too much in love w each other; not toxic tho... js a teeny-tiny amt too much– haha; satoru calls you cookie and minx; too many kisses written to count [and 1 mention of the words 'cum' and 'cunt' each– i said right, i'm too shy :))]; loserboy loverboy 'toru; tw: talks on conceiving; 2.6k wc

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit satoru's character here to a tee ^_^

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

fic title from everywhere, everything by noah kahan // fic summary from a poem by charles bukowski // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

Gojo Satoru is in love with you. Entirely, utterly, whole-heartedly—

Simply put, the man adores you.

Reveres you even; your existence in both this world and his: one that has morphed to fit the shape and size of your form, your smiles, your frowns– Your husband believes he cannot be any more enchanted by you, any more ensnared by you than he already is...

Only to be proven wrong when you ask something of him.

The sweet croon of the music seems to dissipate away, as well as the quiet murmurs of the crowds, when Gojo sees you lift your head from where it lay on his chest. Eyes briefly flicking to where you both are in a gentle sway on the dance floor, amongst other couples; before they return to the shades on his face.

Growing an endearing quality of coyness as you gaze at him, features becoming suffused with warmth and hues before you repeat your ask to him; voice softening, trembling. Even more this time.

"'Toru," you say, fingers flexing from where they are looped around his neck, around his existence. Your smile is shaky, right at the corners of your mouth, before you take a deep breath to force them to stabilise– somehow, your husband realises.

He watches you draw in yet another deep breath, and ask, "You'll give me anything I want from you... won't you?"

He will.

Of course, he will.

Ask him to pluck the waxing gibbous from the night sky, to make you a pretty little pendant out of it— he will.

Ask him to burn this city to the ground, just so you've enough ash for your innumerable pots of cacti— he will.

Ask him to do anything and everything: whatever your heart desires– be it for a moment or for years— Gojo will do it for you, no matter the consequences he must face for it— for what bears any consequence to the sorcerer's life, if not your happiness and well-being??

He drags a hand from where it rested on your lower back, up the side, to your cheek, gently cupping the soft flesh there. Letting loose a tiny smile, fond, unguarded, true, when you lean into his touch.

"Ask away, cookie. Tell your 'Toru what you want."

"I..." you start. Voice soft and timid. Gaze darting away a second time, this time to the slowing pace of your and your husband's dance steps on the floor...

Before you raise your eyes, a mesmerising flurry of many feelings, to his concealed ones.

And Gojo swears, there's surely something different in you, making something different in him as well, when you look at him that way–

"I want to have your babies, 'Toru."

The first response you words elicit in him is a static— Noisy. Buzzing. Something that renders him dumb. Deaf and blind to everything and everyone except his wife, for a moment perhaps a tad too long...

The second response is him, very obviously, nearly dragging you off the dance floor, and having offered a bullshit explanation for leaving early to the party host, pulling you out into the toasty summer night.

Gojo teleports before the doors to the hall have been closed behind you both, not even for three whole seconds.

And bends down to smash his lips onto yours, the instant the familiar comforting feel of your home settles on his shoulders... seeps into his body, immediately setting him at ease... yet not at all at ease...

Especially because of these stupid fucking cockblocking trousers—

A loud pop! sounds through the living room, bouncing off its walls.

Soon followed by a mishmash of an aggrieved whine and an annoyed grunt from your husband, at the loss of contact with one of your best physical features to him—

it all melts away though when Gojo opens his eyes to find you looking at him with a slight sheen in your big round eyes and the tremor from before in your lips.

You push him away gently by the pads of your fingers— but the effort lasts only for a beat. Teeth biting down onto your lower lip, your small fingers let only a brief moment pass before twisting into the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. Almost as if they're scared he might turn into smoke, if their hold is loosened even a pinch.

Gojo thinks you sound terribly puny when you finally break the thick silence layering over the entire flat–

Much too puny than he would like to hear his precious little wife be.

"Do you really want kids with me, 'Toru? You're not doing this just for me– just 'cause I want a family with you— you aren't, are you?"

"Do you..." Gojo starts then pauses for a bit to curb the chuckle nearly spilling forth his mouth, before resuming. The amusement in his tone can be reduced only so much, though— despite, or maybe due to the worry marking your pretty features.

Very unnecessary worry marking your very, very pretty features.

"Do you really think I'm that selfless– that good-hearted– cookie?"

Your brows furrow for a beat— before flattening in a look of complete sincere honesty. "You always think of me before yourself, 'Toru– don't want to pressurise you into doing anything you don't want to, is all."

"Oh, is it so?" he hums, mouth curving into a leisurely grin as he trails his fingertips from where they're entangled in your hair, dancing over the side of your neck until they reach the base of your throat– A faint pressure on the flesh there.

The ensuing hitch in your breath makes his grin sharpen, his trousers tighten. He lets his voice fall to an unhurried husk of a whisper.

"So you think I don't wanna have a family with you, hm?"

"Ah, it's not that," Gojo notes you waste not one moment to breathe back. He pulls you flush to himself by the other hand clutching your lower back, fingers digging in when you stutter, "I-I was j-just–"

"What will you do if I say I don't want kids, cookie?" He interrupts, still maintaining the low cadence of his tone.

Your fingers let go of his coat, soon followed by the re-emergence of that damn shaky smile of yours. Your husband doesn't like it one bit, but says nothing to hear your answer instead...

Albeit he knows what it will be, knowing just how much of a fool you never fail to turn into when it comes to matters involving him– a fact he usually loves about you, his pride and ego adore about you; but in this specific moment... Not so much.

Your soft mumble disrupts his internal groan, "I will never bring this topic up ever again in that case, Satoru. I promise you, I won't."

"And what if I say I wanna knock you up nice and good?"

You'll short circuit, is what Gojo predicts before the last word is even out of his mouth— and he's proven right, amazingly so, in less than a beat, when you do:

Eyes enlarging. Cheeks warming. Mouth opening and closing: once, twice then thrice... As if you're an adorable fish gasping for air in the onslaught of his simple [yet cruel– he knows you deem him so right now– how can you be so cute...] inquiry.

Deciding to grant his poor wife some much-needed mercy, the man bends down to whisper into your ear, lightly grazing the earlobe with his teeth, "If saying it out loud is too much, why don't you show your 'Toru instead what you will do, hm? I'm sure that will be easier."

"I..." you hesitate, the word still a wisp of your breath, until your hands return to the front of his coat. And you lean back a smidgen, features lighting up as you ask. Slowly. Carefully. Hopefully.

A knot, your husband never knew existed, loosens in the middle of his chest at the sight of your strengthening smile.

"Can I take this as your 'yes' then?"

"You can."

And that's the only reply Gojo finds he has to give to have your lips on his... Not too soft yet so very tender in the way they move against his own... Almost as if you're scared of hurting him... Terrified of causing even a pinch of pain to him.

Something between a moan and a squeak rips itself from your throat when the sorcerer bullies his tongue into the warm welcoming space of your mouth, simultaneously hooking his arms under your thighs to lift you. Mouths never leaving each other, not even for one second, as he kicks his shoes off, hearing you do the same, heels hitting the floor with a sharp clack!— And he finally, fucking finally, takes a step into–

"Bedroom, 'Toru!" Pulling away, you exclaim hastily, breathlessly, "Not the sofa or the kitchen counter this time, please."

"Too demanding, aren't we?" Gojo coos, licking his lips then stealing a small taste of the angry swollen redness of your pretty lips– Choosing to concede when you pout up at him, "Alright, fine— Can't really deny my amazing wife anything, can I?"

"No!" You giggle back cheekily—

And you're correct.

Extremely correct, your husband reckons, smiling softly as he moves out of you; out of the embrace of your wet, warm, maddening walls— A sharp hiss escapes through between his teeth, brows scrunching in momentary discomfort whilst he faintly registers your weak whimper.

Wasting no time to scoop back the load of creamy white cum leaking out your sore cunt, Gojo lifts your hips to keep a pillow beneath them. And stuffs his fingers into his mouth— exaggeratedly moaning with a smirk when he catches your cute little face of mortification.

"You're horrible," you mutter visibly exasperated, what with that huge roll of eyes you do when the sorcerer groans out yet again around his fingers in appreciation, shifting to lie beside you.

He removes his fingers with a loud pop!. Grinning like a Cheshire Cat when your eyes stay on them a bit too long for someone who sees it as horrible... Before they skitter away to reach his face.

He wraps an arm round you, dragging you closer until your boobs are squished against his pecs. A shiver of thrill runs down his spine at the wonderful– no, absolutely heavenly feeling.

"I'm in love, cookie," he offers besides a noisy lovestruck sigh in reply.

You, as usual, as expected, take only one or two moments before the not-too-annoyed scowl on your face gives way to a tender smile.

Wrapping an arm around him in return, you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck. He feels your lips on his skin more than hears your words they shape. Whispered into the comfortable darkness of your shared bedroom.

"Love is a force to be reckoned with, huh?"

Just love? Maybe... Maybe not... Truth be told, Gojo has no idea. And he has never been too keen on forming an idea either.

But your love?

It surely is, your husband muses to himself with no small amounts of delight or adoration, It did change the trajectory of his life, did it not?

He is supposed to be by himself— The Strongest, yes, but one with a solitary existence. He is supposed to be in this bed, awake and quiet, staring up at the ceiling whilst his senses easily fall prey to the heavy weights of his past, his mistakes, his unpardonable sins— vanishing long after the first rays of the sun have broken through the curtains...

Yet... with the love you've so obstinately kept safe for him throughout the years... here he is now.

Still awake– a bit restless, in fact– but the farthest from being alone.

The love of his life, safe, sated and smiling in his careful hold. Whilst his senses tingle in smug joy and content as his eyes, all six of them, rove over the innumerable proofs of his insatiable hunger, boundless ardour for you.

Starting from your kiss-bitten lips; to the multiple splotches of purple dotting the expanse of your neck, your chest, your stomach, down to the delectable inner aspect of your thighs; to the angry red nip marks left nearly all over your body, wherever he could get access, wherever you wouldn't gently push his mouth away from with a whine—

To, of course, your belly: Flat now but won't remain so for a long time. Becoming swollen and round with your babies– his babies– A perfect mixture of you and him. A perfect result of your mutual feelings...

An impossibly anxious gasp disturbs his smooth stream of thoughts, as well as the steady downwards flow of his blood...

He looks down to find you wrenching yourself away from his arms to get hold of the long-forgotten pillow— Ah. It's the pillow.

"It's too easy to get you worried over the smallest of things, y'know?" Gojo tuts, still moves to help you stuff the pillow to elevate your hips on noticing your wince on shifting.

You throw him a cross glare, which soon changes into an upset pout.

"Shut up, Satoru. This is not a small thing, this is a huge thing! What will happen if my chances of conceiving fall because of this mistake, 'Toru?" you suddenly erupt into an anguished screech.

Gojo feels his heart threatening to burst at the seams, just from how utterly cute you look. He knocks his forehead lightly against yours.

"Wanna go for another round, cookie?"

"Huh!?!?" you exclaim, eyes growing round and cheeks flaring up yet once more— Your husband intervenes however, before you return to your struggling-to-breathe-fish form, "Don't be so embarrassed, you little minx; you were spouting all sorts of debauched stuff some time back–"

He pauses for a beat, thinking if he should quote everything you said. Then deciding against it, so as to not have you short circuit yet again, repeats, amusement lacing his tone, "Tell me, do you wanna?"

"I'm not a minx," you mumble back.

And the sorcerer almost believes you, mind being swayed by the light glimmer in your gorgeous eyes, the plush flesh of your lower lip jutted out just the right amount, the enticing manner your eyelashes appear to be batting themselves at him in the faint moonlight streaming into the room via the light curtains...

Only for the slowly, steadily enveloping bubble to be popped.

By the feel of something soft and warm– your foot– travelling up the skin of his calf; the same moment he watches your fingers trail over his chest and the planes of his stomach. Tongue peeking out for less than an instant when your gaze drops to his fingers– the very fingers he was sucking on not even five minutes back—

Pushing the pillow away, Gojo climbs back atop you. A knee wedged to part your thighs while he bends down, face angled to swallow that endearing surprised squeak of yours with his insistent, impatient lips.

You were right.

Love is, for real, a force to be reckoned with.

But Gojo Satoru— No, his cookie's 'Toru in love with her– And now, in love with the idea of having a huge happy family with her as well...

That's a force only you know how to put a leash on.

[Not that you will ever—

You're as hopeless a goner for him as he is for you!]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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personasintro · 1 year

Text

Mutual Help | #33

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

December rolls quickly, along with the first snow of the year coating buildings' roofs and the roads. As much as you were excited when you saw the first snowflakes dropping from the sky and melting right away, with your troublesome car it has become inconvenient. You pray every morning that your car's battery isn't dead or there won't be any other trouble waiting for you the second you sit into the car.

Snow has been one of the few things, your favorite things, you appreciate about winter. You don't like the cold that much, wearing too many layers of clothing that it becomes hard to move in, it never has appealed to you that much. Christmas, the family holiday that is approaching very closely, is a part of your favorite things in and about winter. Which reminds you you should buy presents sooner than two days before Christmas like you did last year.

You're planning to go back to your hometown, obviously spending a family holiday with none other than your own family. And even though you've in mind what to get to your parents, you've no idea what to get to Jungkook. You know him, knowing what he likes and does in his free time but fuck, it's so hard to buy him something. The man is successful enough to buy anything he likes, and he does enjoy expensive things. Things you probably can't afford with your bills and additional expenses for your car. The bar pays well, in three months or so, you'll be able to actually look around for a better car. And although you know if Jungkook heard your thoughts and struggles about his Christmas gift, he'd assure you not to buy him anything. But you can't exactly do that, can you?

Coincidentally, the mentioned man is right in front of you in his natural habitat and by that, you mean doing one of the things he loves most. Taking pictures. Apparently Junho has been so pleased with the outcome of Jungkook's pictures he provided for the company last month, that he has decided to call him over again. This time Jungkook prepared you for his presence, not forgetting to point out that Junho must like him since he called him personally and asked him to do today's photoshoot.

Poor women are in their bikinis, just a casual set of beige bikinis, nothing too sexy, probably freezing even though there are a set of heaters around them to keep them warm. Jungkook is making sure to work quickly, you notice the way he eyes the women with worried eyes when he sees one of them shiver slightly.

Although you've seen Jungkook taking pictures countless times, there's something different seeing him doing it while actually working. It's not for fun or his personal interest, he's working while being professional. You're not blind, seeing models eyeing the young photographer with tattoos on display while they suddenly don't mind the cold that much is somehow relatable. However, you're not freezing and you're behind the scenes of it all, but still having a perfect view of Jungkook's back. Even from the place you're standing, you can notice his arms flexing each time he pulls up the camera and takes a few shots. With each model he's done, doing solo but couple shots as well, he starts reviewing the pictures with a prominent and focused frown.

"Is it just me or it's suddenly hot in here?"

Glancing at your co-worker, you see him fan his face before he gives you an obvious mischievous smirk.

"The heaters do an amazing job." you comment, straightening yourself as you hand a fluffy robe to one of the models that walks to Jungkook, looking at the pictures he has taken of her.

You notice the way she stands right behind him, making sure her chest brushes against his shoulder but Jungkook being a total gentleman and too busy working, he apologizes softly and gives her more space by scooting a little. You suppress a snort that wants to get out but Yoongi is quicker, his own snort sounding beside you. The only difference is, his reaction isn't aimed at what you just saw but on your very own comment.

"I'd say your boyfriend does an amazing job." he muses, earning a glare from you because obviously, he's doing and saying it just to get on your nerves.

He knows he's not your boyfriend, he even knows he was never one in the first place. You're still not sure how he knows that, it feels like one second he was determined that you and Jungkook are a real thing and the other he already knew the truth. Of course, you realize you've told him when he kept being annoying but still... you can't believe he knows.

"Are you trying to get on my nerves, Min?" you murmur, clearing your throat while staring ahead at the staff preparing the studio for another photoshoot.

"I thought I already got on your nerves." he says innocently, feigning innocence of course. There's no way this man is innocent or is capable of anything like that.

You look at the watch that hugs your wrists, aware of Yoongi's eyes on you knowing he's waiting for your reaction. Surely, you could just ignore him but where's the fun in that?

"Just two more hours." Is all you say, sighing underneath your breath knowing very well he hears you.

Two more hours and then he won't be getting on your nerves. Somehow, you've slowly grown resistant to his remarks and they don't piss you off as much. However, that doesn't mean he doesn't piss you off at all. He does. A lot.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, grumpy."

Grumpy. Yes, somehow that became your nickname. You do have to admit, you're grumpy whenever Yoongi is around but that's completely not your fault. The person at fault is standing right beside you and calls you that stupid nickname. One thing you learned about Yoongi is, the less you react the more he lets you breathe.

"Two hours and then I'm out." you remind him of your actual working schedule but all he does is smirk in return.

"Hmm, we'll see about that." he hums, causing your brows to pinch in confusion and before you can question him, Sophia, one of your co-workers calls out for him to help her with something.

He grumbles but moves his legs across the room to help her with whatever she starts telling him. Junho calls out for a short break, reminding everyone that it's only a fifteen minute break and then everyone is going back to work.

The models wear their robes quickly, going to one of the dressing rooms to prepare for the next photoshoot while you reach for your already cold tea, slowly sipping on it. You notice Jungkook putting down his camera on the table, beside the laptop and a set of cables before he makes his way towards you.

There's a glint of amusement in his eyes which you recognize immediately. "I don't think I've ever seen you so annoyed like when you're next to that guy." he jokes, sitting on one of the stools in the back of the room as you join him, sitting beside him.

You follow his vision of eyes, noticing he's looking at Yoongi who sports the same frown as he grumbles something under his breath. "He likes to annoy me, that's why. I've to hold myself from punching him in the face, Junho would have me fired if I ever did such a thing." you grumble, causing Jungkook to glance at you as he tries to recognize if you're all serious or partly joking.

In this case you're partly joking. You're not a violent person, even when it comes to annoying a human being such as Yoongi. You wouldn't actually hurt him, but you do imagine punching him sometimes. It eases your mind whenever he has one of his famous remarks.

"Is he treating you badly?" Jungkook asks, frowning while he sends a glare to completely oblivious Yoongi across the room, ready to fight him if you tell on him.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Calm down, you hero. He's just annoying, that's all. He helped me to find a job at the bar, he's the one whose brother owns it. He is annoying but he's not a bad person. Fuck, I hope no one heard me right now." you mutter, jokingly looking at Jungkook as he snorts.

"Maybe he likes you." Jungkook shrugs after a moment while grinning at you teasingly, eyes glancing back at Yoongi.

You let out an ugly snort, looking around to see if someone heard you. Thank God, no one did, besides Jungkook but he's used to your weird and ugly noises.

"He probably likes you more than me." you state, earning a confused look from Jungkook.

Before another word can be uttered between you two, Junho comes rushing back into the studio, ushering everyone to get back to their places. Jungkook looks at his expensive watch, glancing at you with even bigger confusion than from your previous words.

"Five minutes only passed." he informs you while you almost snicker at the innocence of his features and the soft voice.

It's usual Junho gives everyone a break but shortens it himself when he feels like it. There's no explanation for that, just describing how big of an asshole he truly is.

"Welcome to my world." you chime, standing up from your seat while Jungkook pouts at the short break but follows you nevertheless.

Perhaps Yoongi is annoying co-worker, but Jungkook's presence does bring at least some kind of comfort even though he barely has the time to speak to you. However, whenever there is time he always makes sure to stop by and chat with you, ignoring the heart eyes from the literal young models just so he can talk to you.

Working in a bar has become essential to your daily life. Sure, you're working your ass off to be able to get yourself a better car and you wish your Saturdays and sometimes Sundays would be free, but you can't really complain about the job itself. You were a little worried at first, not knowing what to expect because the thought of you working in a bar full of horny and sweaty people didn't sound that appealing. It still doesn't. But everyone is so nice, Mark has been a huge help and a support, praising your work even in front of Yejun which is always nice since he's the boss.

Sometimes he'd help at the bar, making a small chat with you to question your contentment with the job. He's more around than you thought he'd be, considering he's owning this club and has employees for almost everything. Even just from the two months you're working here, you could notice how much this place means to him. Yeah, it's a club but it doesn't mean it's dirty business or something. According to Mark, his parents weren't too happy with Yejun investing all his money to make this club what it is today. He started from scratch, risking a lot if you must say.

Mark gives you a wave when he sees you entering the club, later than usual which you hope nobody will scold you for, and you quickly wave him back making your way to the dressing room. Good thing is you managed to take a nap before you came here, resulting in you sleeping longer than you were planning. In the middle of your deep slumber, you somehow managed to turn off the alarm that you reliably set on to make sure you don't sleep over. Of course, you did. Only for you to snap your eyes open when you suspiciously slept for a long time.

You nod at the bouncer sitting at a bar, waiting for the opening hours which starts in less than ten minutes before you barge into the dressing room.

For a moment you completely ignore another presence in the room, rushing yourself to get ready as soon as possible but knowing Mark and everyone else seems to be already getting things around the club ready, your eyes snap at the person shutting one of the lockers.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you gasp, eyes widening at the sight of smirking Yoongi wearing white shirt with club's logo (which everyone who works as a bartender here is wearing) with black jeans and some white sneakers. "What are you doing here?"

You're speechless, not understanding his sudden presence or the fact he's wearing the club's attire.

"I told you you're not gonna get rid of me that easily," he muses, obviously pleased with your reaction because he's that evil. "My brother is away and asked me to help out a bit."

You're slightly caught off guard hearing him explain his reason behind being here, you thought he would care less to give you an explanation. Nodding, you let the door shut behind you with a louder bang as you warily stare at him.

"What?" he barks. You're not surprised by his reaction at this point, expecting it. He's not the only one who gets on your nerves. You can do the same thing.

Opening your locker, you hide your grin behind it as you pull out your working attire. As you shut the locker, you look at him with a raised brow. "Do you mind? I've to change." you tell him sweetly, battling your eyelashes at him as he stares at you with a frown.

He doesn't look too shocked, but you know he's surprised by the sweetness of your voice. He expected you to bark back. Thus, that's why you haven't done it. Just when you think you got him, a pleased smirk about to curve on your lips, you watch his own lips to do the same before you can.

"Ah," he pouts, "You won't give me a show?" He even has the audacity to eye your body, mockingly chuckling at the sweatpants you're wearing.

In your defense, you've worn something comfortable knowing you'll change your clothes in the club anyway. And the sweatpants are nice and like you said, comfortable. Okay, maybe with the black winter jacket you're wearing you may look like you're about to take the trash out, but that's completely irrelevant.

"Get out." you mutter through gritted teeth, seeing him beam you with a pleased smile.

"Gladly." he sings out, waving you off as he leaves you in the dressing room alone.

When the door shut, you shake your head with a snicker escaping past your lips. You've no idea how you'll make it tonight without actually killing him. Being with him during the day is one thing but being with him after it is another.

Surprisingly, when the club opens and everyone starts working, Yoongi minds his own business and is actually doing an amazing job at managing the club and replacing his brother. Even everyone out of your co-workers seems to be thrilled that Yoongi is here.

"Mark, can you grab the kitchen wipes from the back?" Yoongi yells at Mark who's on the other side of the bar with two more barmen.

He looks at Yoongi immediately, nodding while a soft blush spreads on his cheeks. You can notice it even from the distance and in such lightning. He even smiles shyly in Yoongi's way before he scurries away to the storage room.

You're wiping the counter, stealing a glance at Yoongi who's already looking at you with a grin. "What?"

"What was that?" You don't beat around the bush, voicing out your curiosity as you can't help but smirk at remembering Mark's shy face. You've never seen him being so shy and Yoongi is obviously the reason why he reacted that way.

"We hooked up a few times." he shrugs, revealing the information freely to you as you choke up on your spit, eyes widening.

You stop wiping the counter, turning yourself to Yoongi who has an amused grin on his face. "You--you two hooked up?" You'd never guess it.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asks, pursing his lips in amusement as he takes the wipe that got neglected by you and starts wiping the rest of the counter.

"No, I... I'm just surprised. I'd have never guessed that you and Mark... are you dating?"

You wouldn't admit it out loud, but Yoongi seems like a mystery to you. You know him but you don't. Every little information about him is interesting and that's because you're so damn curious.

"No, I don't date." he chuckles, finishing wiping as he tosses the wipe into the bin.

"Isn't that what people usually say? And then they'll fall in love with someone and change their opinion about dating?" you muse amusingly, hearing him chuckle as he shakes his head.

"I'm not against dating. It's just not my thing but I don't rule it out." he answers, surprising you by the honesty in his voice.

There are times when the two of you are civil and can actually talk to each other without any bickering, or something that would cause the two of you to be irritated with each other.

You nod, sighing as you look at the busy crowd. You don't comment any further, you already got enough of an answer and your mind is preoccupied by the sight in front of you. The dance floor is filled with sweaty bodies and everybody humping each other, which isn't quite an unexpected view but you also don't let your eyes drift elsewhere like usual. You look at the young couple, dancing near the bar, in their own world as they look like they're five seconds from fucking. You can't see the guy's face clearly but you can tell he's well built and obviously knows how to move. The girl he's dancing with is pressed against his chest with her back, grinding her ass into him while he holds her tightly, lips brushing her ear.

You gulp, looking away with red cheeks when you realize you've been staring at them. You've never missed sex that much like you'd go crazy if you haven't had it, but you've already experienced what it feels like to be sexually frustrated. However, there was Jungkook who helped you with that at that time but he's not available to do that anymore. Unfortunately, your hands don't do much and even though the shower head can bring you at least some kind of orgasm, it's nothing mind blowing. Jungkook literally ruined your sexlife because even you are not enough to make yourself feel good.

He has shown you how good you can enjoy yourself and now there are times when you think about all the times he pounded you to the mattress. It's wrong to think this about your best friend, you two are no longer hooking up. You both act like it has never happened in the first place. You're glad you were able to go back to just being best friends who don't fuck each other. It hasn't been weird between you which you're thankful for. None of you do a big deal out of it and you've no idea when this sudden frustration is coming from. Okay, maybe it's not sudden. Jungkook isn't only attractive but brought the best orgasms to you. It would be a sin to forget what you experienced with him in bed (or anywhere else he has taken you).

"Is there someone you like?"

Your thoughts fade away as soon as you hear Yoongi, met with a cocky smirk. Fuck, of course he enjoyed you eyeing the couple.

You look back at the couple before you realize what you're doing, seeing the guy interweaving their fingers as he leads her out of the club. Great, at least someone is getting laid.

"No," you answer, looking at Yoongi who takes a gulp of his water bottle. "Not at all." you murmur, avoiding his grin that he's trying to cover with the bottle while he's drinking.

Ignoring the fact Yoongi has caught you staring at the couple, you hear him chuckle. "You can go home."

You raise your brows in surprise, glancing at the small clock to see you still have half an hour to work. "You sure?" you ask, head tilting towards the crowded dance floor.

It's half past eleven and your shift ends at midnight. One of the things you appreciate about working in this bar and Yejun as a boss, you both agreed you won't be working until closing time which is around two in the morning, if it's not completely necessary. This way you get to earn some money but still get enough sleep.

"Don't make me repeat it," he murmurs and rolls his eyes, before he stares at you with a grin. "Yeah, Tania is supposed to come in a few minutes,"

Tania, one of the other bartenders you still haven't met yet. You remember Yejun and Mark mentioning her once but that's it. She usually comes after midnight and helps around the bar until it's closing time.

As much as you wish to lay in your bed and rest your eardrums that shake from the loud music, you need the money and Saturdays are the only days you can work. You usually keep your Sundays free, considering you've got your job on Monday and even though you need money, you still need a rest too.

Yoongi notices your hesitation, probably knowing the reason behind it. "I won't tell anyone, you'll still get paid as if you stayed until midnight." he says, noticing the way your face lights up but then you look at him with a suspicious frown.

"This won't backfire at me, right?"

He laughs, actually laughs as his shoulders shake while he shakes his head at your absurdity. Well, he can't blame you for being suspicious about him being good and doing you a favor without you even asking for it.

"Believe it or not, I'm not that evil." he says, an amused grin spreads on his lips as you think it through.

Fuck it. You're tired and Yoongi is the boss now (not that you'd tell him that), it'd just boost his ego.

"Okay, thank you." you tell him, seeing him giving you a nod as he waves you before one of the customers is ready to order drinks, stealing his attention.

Freshly showered and wrapped in your soft sheets, you toss around for like a hundredth time causing you to groan in frustration. You've been yawning ever since you laid into bed but can't seem to sleep. Somehow, your mind doesn't let you and thinks it's better for you to stare at the dark ceiling or toss around. No matter how many times you do that, your body doesn't find the comfortable position to fall asleep in and your mind keeps drifting to the time when you didn't have to worry about not getting enough pleasure. Jungkook has always made sure your needs were taken care of. And fuck, it's so wrong for you to think about him or the time you got to spend together (time when he fucked you, so all that left your mouth were moans and hs name). But you can't help it, your mind keeps going back to him and you let the memories replay.

Memories of him touching you, tasting you and stretching you with his thick length. You remember tasting him for the first time, intimidated by his size before it all went away as soon as you tasted him. It was so hard to get him to let out a sound of pleasure, making you think you're not doing that great job at it. But then you let him fuck your throat, him being the first to have the privilege to do that and fuck, was he excited to. Or the time he spanked you and warned you when you forgot to count how many spanks he gave to your already red ass cheeks. You find yourself thinking about him letting his fingers slide into your heat while you were taking a shower, or all the explicit things he used to say to all the time. Jungkook is sex on legs, that much you're certain. He wouldn't even touch you between your thighs to get you aroused and all wet for him. His mouth and words coming out of it were just enough.

Yearning for someone else's touch (or specifically Jungkook's but you'd never admit that, not even to yourself) it's not that hard for you to get the wetness pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, wondering if this is the right time to touch yourself when you know your fingers aren't enough. Another idea pops in your head, your teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you think it through. You said to yourself you'd never do that, not alone because you insisted on not needing that. But the temptation and the wetness uncomfortably spreading over your pajama pants persuades you.

Groaning, you toss away the blanket and turn on your night lamp. Your legs move on their own and you're already getting out of bed, crouching in front of it to pull out the box you've hidden there. You stare at it, remembering when Jungkook handed it to you like it was yesterday.

You remember when Jungkook sneaked it into your travel bag once you've stayed over at his place. You didn't have to wonder what's in the box because how could you forget? His number was quickly speed dialed and you waited for him to pick up, barely letting him to greet you as you bombarded him with questions. He had the audacity to laugh and inform you he cleaned the toy since the last time you've used it, no... since the last time he has used it on you. You grumbled something along the lines he's stupid for thinking you'll use it.

If he could see you right now, crouching on your bedroom floor and opening the box, he'd certainly feel all too smug about being right.

The toy looks just like new, no trace of being used before. You're stupid. What else have you expected? Your cum dried on it? You cringe at your own thoughts, feeling slightly embarrassed as you take it into your hand and press on the button, jumping in shock when the toy comes to life. It keeps vibrating in your hands, the soft buzzing sound making the tip of your ears red. You turn it off, gulping at the sight of it because it's almost too identical to Jungkook's own dick.

"Fuck it," you whisper to yourself, hopping back on bed with the toy in your hand. You shimmy out of your pajamas, glad for the heating being turned on so you're not cold. It'll take a moment for your body to warm itself from the arousal.

Placing the toy beside you, you make yourself comfortable as you start by cupping your breasts. Your hands are small, way smaller than Jungkook's and the touch doesn't do much. Sighing, you don't let it discourage you as you trail your hand between your legs, while the other one pinches your nipple. Your fingers circle your clit, imagining they're not yours but it's not that easy. You're surprised how wet you already are, the months of absence from sex taking its tool on you and even though you're much more sensitive now, it doesn't do much. You retrieve your hands off your body, reaching for the toy. Nobody's got the time for this bullshit when you feel yourself not being that aroused from it. You bring the toy back to life, the buzzing still makes you slightly embarrassed which causes you to chuckle at your absurdity. People do this all the time. Why the fuck are you so weird about this? It's just Jungkook's stupid head and face popping up in your mind and the fact he ordered this for you. Best friend in the world for sure.

You let the toy press against your clit, a shivered breath leaving your mouth as you feel the first vibrations of the sextoy. You press it harder, circling it over the sensitive bud as you hear the wet sounds of your juices meeting the toy. Doing this for a couple of minutes, you quickly grow bored and not as aroused as at the beginning, so you decide to let the tip slide into you. It feels good but not what you expected. You don't give up and start pushing the toy deeper, barely halfway before you pull it away. It's not that bad. You repeat the process, pumping the pink vibrator while it vibrates against your walls.

Surprisingly, you even let out a couple of hushed moans while you try to roll your hips into the toy, but that's it. You try taking more of it or even quickening the pace, nor touching your breasts or clit helps that much. So, you shamefully think about the times Jungkook fucked you so hard he made you see stars. The sound of his body colliding with yours is almost distant, sounds so explicit that used to make you wet even more. Or you remember when the two of you fought and then had sex. He slowed down his usual feral and rushed pace, muttered with his deep and raspy voice how good you feel and how sorry he is. It was slow but intense just as much, full of emotions where you could feel how sorry he is without him even saying it, even though he made sure he said it. You do this for a few more minutes before you come to the conclusion you won't orgasm like this. It doesn't feel better, even worse as you feel yourself not being that aroused or wet. You're not Jungkook and he's not here. Pulling out the toy, you throw it onto bed frustratedly as you let out a groan.

"Fuck," you curse, rubbing your palms over your face. Just as arousal came, it leaves and leaves you disappointed all over again. "Fucking Jeon, what have you done to me?" you mutter, voice muffled by your palms.

He showed you there is possibly no one who could fuck you better. Not even yourself. That's what he has done to you.

Starting your Monday by being back to work and having to make constant phone calls has busied you enough to the point, you don't think about the Saturday failure of trying to make yourself orgasm. Probably your biggest fail this year, if not of your entire life and that speaks volume.

"That's a wrap for today, guys!" Junho claps his hands, showing one of his rare smiles while everyone seems more than revealed by the information. You can't blame them, the very few people from stuff that have decided to work overtime have been here since the early morning. You included, since one of the companies in Japan that holds a fashion show every year has asked for a collaboration with your company, wanting some of the models from the agency.

Junho had been more than eager to jump at the opportunity, nor you can blame him. Some of these people in this very room came all the way from Japan, just to make sure they're present and met everyone which could've been easily done through a video chat like you'd expect them to do. They pleasantly surprised you, proved to be professional and very kind like it's been said about them.

You listen to Junho voicing out his appreciation, which surely is just his tactic to kiss your new business partners' asses, thanking everyone while you're packing your stuff like the rest of the people in the room do, praying he'll shut up soon. You even notice some raised eyebrows coming from your co-workers at Junho's forced politeness and kindness which, to be honest, wants you to let out an amused snicker.

"Be careful everyone, the roads are crazy right now." he says at the end, which makes you look out of the window and notice the snow hasn't eased that much since this morning. It's noticeable even in the darkness of Monday's evening.

Whether his words are honest or not, it's still nice he pointed that out.

As much as you love snow and when it's snowing, you can't find much joy in removing the snow off your car. Once you finally get to your car, you're freezing your ass off while you pray your engine will start working. You haven't had that much problem with it, a few times Yoongi had to come to your rescue while he kept grumbling under his breath but nevertheless, he helped you. It wasn't for free, you're not that heartless to let him help you just like that. You made sure to bring him his Iced Americano a few times, even in December because apparently, he doesn't give a fuck and loves it even in this season. However, Yoongi is already back at home, or wherever he went after his shift ended. To say it this way, if you'll have trouble with the engine again, you would have to ask one of the people that are coming out of the company anyway and pray there'll be someone able to help you, or you'd have to call one of your friends to rescue you.

Luckily, the sound of your engine starting and working is probably one of the nicest things of today and you let out a relieved sigh. Setting up the radio, you put on your playlist called 'chill drive' which you created purposely for reasons when you're driving. You don't forget to turn the heating on, hoping it'll do its job before you can actually make it home, otherwise your ass will really freeze.

You drive out of the parking lot, listening to music while humming the soft and melodic tune as you drive onto the road. You're being careful, driving slower than usual which probably annoys the rest of drivers but you could care less. Other drivers probably don't care about their safety or the safety of others as they speed up through the roads while it keeps snowing, the snow practically pouring from the sky. You keep the speed steady, more comfortable once you make it out of the streets and drive through a long driveway with three lanes.

You're focused, your eyes on the road while you listen to a soft and melodic voice humming in the background. And you've no idea how it happens because one minute you're sure nothing could go wrong but then the car, that's been driving fast and is in front of you, suddenly stops at the red light. Your legs automatically press the brakes but your car weirdly shifts on the snowy road and you make a mistake by taking your leg off the brakes. The issue is that you panic, aware of the state your car has been lately and you feel the steering wheel turning under your fingers. You barely have any control of it, trying to hold it tightly while you press the breaks fast again. In a split second, your car is moving to the side and it spins, the side of your head harshly meeting the window.

And the other second you feel the impact of your head and glass colliding.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #personasintro

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dariaslookalike · 7 months

Text

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 10: Should you suck him or rub him?

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 11

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You jolt awake in the night; a chilly breeze through the window or an odd nightmare that was already fading from your memory. Whatever it was, you thrash against the blanket and suck in sharp breaths of air. You blearily gaze around the room when a shiver creeps up your spine and you find him sitting in the corner armchair.

“You’re a creep.” You croak out.

House raises his glass of bourbon in admission. You can only see the vague silhouette of him lit up by the light drifting in from the street; the glint of his glass, the dark shadows of his brow and cheekbones. You stay like that for a few minutes, gazing at each other. Your eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, and while he sips, you drink in the sight of him. The new stubble lining his face, the whites of his eyes, the curl of his lip.

You break the silence with a quiet question. “How was work?”

You realise it’s dumb as soon as you say it. So much had happened from work to here, where you lay, naked in his bed. You roll yourself over to your side, fully facing him.

House stares at you, and nothing is revealed on the stony plane of his face. “Cameron asked about you.”

You blink. Not like House to avoid the question, but you play into him. “What’d you say?”

His jaw clenches. “I didn’t know what to say.”

You hear his glass clink against the bedside table, and he groans. He shifts in his chair, and you can make out his hands being dragged down his face. His voice is muffled behind his palms, and you squint. “Huh?”

House just groans again, and you’re blinded when he reaches over swiftly and flicks on the lamp. You stop yourself from hissing, and just fling the blankets over your head. Only when you stop seeing white on the dark of your eyelids do you gradually lower it again.

House is staring at you, and while your eyes still sting from the brightness, you appreciate being able to see him. He grinds his teeth. “I said, do you know how annoying that is?”

You blink, stopping yourself from trying to memorise the detail of his neck, and draw your eyes back to his. “What, Cameron asking you a question? Scandalous, I know.”

House scoffs in disbelief, but it doesn’t hold the same bite it used to. It’s softer somehow, here in the pillowy, blanketed expanse of his bedroom. “Even now- Even now, when you’re running on a few hours of sleep and you’re not even fully awake yet, you’re a smart arse.” You clench your jaw as he throws his hands up softly, defeated. “No, no, not Cameron asking. It was not knowing what to say.”

You don’t say anything, and his eyes flick to yours. “I know a lot of things; more than every patient in the clinic combined, more than the snot nosed kids and helicopter parents. But I didn’t know what to say to Cameron.” He leans back in the chair, and scoffs at the ceiling. “I could’ve said your pimp raised your hours or that you were being treated next door by Wilson, and she could go shave her head with you, if she likes. And instead I stood there, and couldn’t think of anything.”

You don’t know how to reply, and he clenches his jaw, blinking away something in his eye, before he takes another sip of his drink.

“House.” Your voice is soft but it still sounds too loud in the sudden silence that envelops you both.

You don’t know how to say it, how to ask. You can feel the words lodging in your throat, trying to bubble out and instead being barricaded inside. So, you shift yourself back towards the edge of the mattress, and raise the blanket up with one arm as an invitation. You see his adam's apple bob and his eyes flick to yours. It’s one thing to fall asleep in the same bed after exhausting sex. It’s another to consciously make the decision to lay with each other- somehow, it felt more vulnerable, more raw, more intimate than what you two had done earlier.

It’s just sex. House’s words from earlier ring out and you can almost see them fluttering through his head right now.

Fine. It’s just sex. You start to lower your arm, rescinding your invitation. But House moves, staring into your eyes all the while, raising himself to his feet and you smile at him. Not a toothy, cocky smile, but a soft one that has your dimple showing.

House groans, his hand whipping to his leg. “Argh!” He’s unsteady on his feet and falls back with a ‘hrumph’ into his chair.

You don’t realise how hard you’re gripping the sheet until you sit yourself up and drag half the bedding with you. “Are you okay?”

House scoffs. “If you call missing muscle and cripple inducing pain okay, then yes, I’m okay.”

You roll your eyes, relaxing slightly. House sees your reaction, and sighs. “It’s just- it’s just a bad pain day. Trying to fuck the shit out of gorgeous women puts a bit of a strain on me.”

You gulp, slightly. “I’ll have to tell that woman off when I meet her.”

House’s breath is sharp and hissing through his nose, but he still manages to scoff. “Don’t do that.”

You can feel your pulse jumping in your neck. “Do what?”

“Don’t sit there and act like some insecure teenage girl who didn’t get asked to prom- you’re gorgeous, and if you pretend you’re not, it makes you look like a gorgeous idiot.”

You laugh, but still feel your cheeks flushing. “House, one time I walked into work, you asked me if a dog chewed me up and spit me back out.” You raise your hands in defence. “I’m not trying to fish for your compliments- I know I’m not the girl in magazines and I’m not like Cameron or Cuddy. I learnt that a long time ago and I’ve learnt to live with it.”

House looks repulsed. “You actually are an idiot then.” You roll your eyes, and he shakes his head in disbelief, still hissing in pain. “Yes, you’re not anorexic or bulimic or some giraffe looking model. And I can’t get enough of you. If you think that I’m not going to compliment you, and tell you truthfully that you’re beautiful, because you weigh more than some pubescent teenage girl beauty standard bullshit, you’re an idiot.”

He’s staring at you from beneath his brow, “Get me a bottle of vicodin from the cupboard, and I’ll show you what I really think about you.” You can practically see the dirty images across his mind. You, pinned beneath him, getting praised and worshipped and adored by House’s depraved self.

Your cheeks are definitely aflame now but you manage to force out a soft laugh. “I don’t know how you managed to say all that when you’re in that much pain.”

As if remembering his pain, House groans loudly, deep from the back of his throat, as his hand rubs over his leg. You try not to focus on the way that sounds make you throb, and you swing your feet over the side of the bed. You see House’s eyes cling to you, to the skin hidden by the bed sheets covering you. You smirk, and simply grab a discarded shirt from the floor, slipping your arms into it. The bedsheets drop, and you hear House inhale sharply at the sight of your bare chest, but then you poke your head through successfully and cover yourself again with the t-shirt.

House’s t-shirt. It’s got some sort of graphic across the front and you vaguely recall it from House’s so called ‘fashion week’ that occurred after Cuddy demanded he wear a doctor’s coat. You slide to your knees in the space between House and the bed, and he shifts his hips slightly towards you.

“Round two?” He asks, smirking down at you.

You laugh, and reach towards the bedside table. “How can you be that horny in that much pain?”

House’s blue eyes track your movements. “It’s one of my many talents.”

You grab the small tube and close the drawer, turning back to House. His eyes flick down to the Deep Heat tube, and trail down you, snagging on your bare thighs. His breath is uneven as he speaks. “How’d you know that I kept that there?”

You look up to him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll be honest- I’ve gone through your entire apartment by this point. I know where you keep your birth certificate, let alone some cream.”

He huffs. “‘Should have expected you to be a detective too.”

“As if you didn’t do the same thing at my place.”

House stares down at you for a moment before he speaks. “You’ve got me there. You found my birth certificate and I found your collection of raunchy pornography, so I guess we’re even.”

You unscrew the lid and squeeze some cream onto your hands. It warms near instantly. “Ha ha. I don’t keep porn, only a box of sex toys.”

Your eyes flick back up at his silence to see House’s hooded gaze as he stares at the apex of your thighs, seemingly entranced, and you shake your head. “Take your pants off, House.”

He blinks, shuddering in a breath. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He shimmies himself out of his pyjamas- some flannel pants that you might have called him an old man for another night. But tonight, when he shakes and his leg spasms as he finally strips his pants, you resist.

You don’t comment on his laboured breathing when he leans back against the chair, and you simply scooch closer until you’re enclosed by his knees. His hand reaches forward, threading into your tousled hair and pulling it, gently enough to drag your eyes up to his.

House stares down his nose at you, and you remain like that for a moment, staring at each other. You could stare at him forever, you think. Study the lines of his face and the blues of his eyes for your whole life, the same way a cartographer memorises the planes and the dips of a landscape or a crazed artist obsesses over the cool blue of the ocean. Memorise the notch in his brow or the lines under his eyes or the sharp slope of his cheekbone.

A smile tugs at his lips. “You are gorgeous.”

Your brow crinkles. “Now you’re only saying that because I’m on my knees.”

His hand tightens at the roots of your hair, and his grip is more sharp. “You’ll believe me. Eventually. It’ll take me fucking that insecurity out of you and maybe getting Wilson to join, but it’ll work.”

You laugh, cheeks aflame. “‘You sure you could handle that? Last I checked you hated the idea of me taking on Chase by myself, let alone your buddy.”

His jaw ticks, and you can’t tell if his sharp inhale is his pain or the mention of Chase. “That’s because Chase is a snot-nosed ‘yes-man’.”

You roll your eyes half-heartedly. “Stop with the squabbling and let me work.”

His hand loosens at your head, and you lean forward, gingerly smoothing the cream down his bare leg. House flinches at the touch, and you hear him grunt when your fingers trail over the silvery mass gouged out of his thigh. You work gently, and even softer when the grip on your hair tightens, stinging your scalp, and his breath racks through his chest, leaving him heaving. You massage the heated cream into his skin, working in circles and with both hands, pushing into the surrounding muscle and working it into the silvery scar. When it’s absorbed, and his thigh is warm to the touch, you continue working him with your hands, pushing down on the muscle and easing back in a soft massage.

House swallows above you. “I think this is better than the blowjob.”

You smile up at him, mockingly. “Really?”

His head falls back against the chair, and he groans. You clench your legs at the way the sound makes your core tighten, and focus on ensuring your hands continue to work. “Actually, we should do both to test it.”

You laugh at his hopeless attempt, and his head tilts back down as he looks at you. “How’d you learn this? I’ve had masseuses do much worse.”

You narrow your eyes in a faux-glare, applying more pressure to his thigh. “I thought you knew everything about me.”

His hands abandon your hair, and he runs them through his own hair, his adams apple bobbing as he does so. “There’s always things to learn. I didn’t know what you were like in bed, and now I know you’re a slutty little thing that loves to-”

“I got a certificate in massage therapy,” You cut him off. “While I was studying. It was easy enough and I thought it would come in useful if I ended up flunking out of being a doctor.”

“You? Flunking out? In your dreams- or nightmares, I suppose.”

You shrug softly. “It’s always good to have a back-up plan.”

He chuckles. “By that logic, what was your backup plan for your backup plan?”

“Get a sugar daddy.”

House’s eyes drop to yours immediately, searching for facetiousness. You simply smirk up towards him and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his thigh. Your staple, you suppose. You couldn’t argue against it. Kissing House’s thigh and getting that pupil-blown reaction was worth it. “Did that help at all?”

He blinks. “You can kiss it again and I’ll tell you. Or I have something else you can kiss.”

You ease your massage, now only working softly and lightly. “I meant the massage.”

His blue eyes are soft when he gazes down at you, staring at you appreciatively.. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to get you some vicodin too?”

He sighs fully. “I could kiss you, you addict-enabling goddess.”

You roll your eyes, easing yourself to your feet. House leans forward as if shocked by the separation of your hands from his thigh, and you stand between his legs, letting your hands rest on his cheeks. They must reek of the cream, but he makes no move to resist you as you rub your thumbs against his stubble and trace the edges of his face. His shirt falls past the apex of your thighs, but his hands reach forward, slinking under the material and grasping your arse. You gasp, and move closer to him, his face coming closer to your breasts.

He squeezes your cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He gazes up at you, drinking in your reaction and hiss when his hand slaps against your arse, leaving a stinging sensation and a light, blotchy mark. He does it again, and you nudge into him, gasping lightly. You squeeze your legs together. “That wasn’t a kiss.”

He smirks. “My mistake. I’ll remedy it.”

His hands shift to your hips, gripping them and tugging you down slightly. When you’re lower, one hand reaches up, wrapping around your neck and pulling you towards him. It’s a bit awkward at that angle, but you bring yourself closer, lower, until you’re level with him. He leans forward, placing his lips against yours, and your hands move from his face to run through his hair as he deepens the kiss. He licks against your teeth and you give into him, letting him explore your mouth as his hand threads into your hair, pinning you in place. He’s warm and he’s demanding and he’s House, and you feel your core tighten.

When you pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, sucking in air. “I’ll go get your pills.”

“Forget about ‘em.” He says, trying to drag you back to his lips. You laugh, and pull back, and he lets you step back, away from him.

When you return, and pass him two pills, to which he glares at you mockingly for not bringing him the whole container, you retreat back to bed. You feel his eyes on your bare legs, and especially on the rosy print on your arse. You tug the blankets up and gaze at House as he throws back the pills and groans. He thumbs his glass, finishing the dregs of his drink, and then he lifts his head and stares at you with his cool eyes.

You’re back to where you started. This time, you find the words.

“Come here, House.”

He furrows his brow. “And if I don’t? You’ll… what? Tie me up and make me?”

You roll your eyes in mirth. “Turn the lamp off and come to bed. Please.”

His cool gaze remains on you, and it’s almost calculating- weighing the pros and cons, the possibilities and the certainties of what your request entails. But maybe it’s the light yawn you let out, or the bleary blink of your eyes, or the not so subtle inhale of his shirt. Whatever it is, House’s gaze softens, and he reaches over, flicking off the lamp.

You can’t see anything as your eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, but you can hear him. He still winces when he raises himself to his feet, but the sound is soft and nowhere near his prior pained yelp. He hobbles the slight distance to the bed and there’s the sound of shuffling and twisting sheets and blankets as he gets into the bed.

And then he’s beside you. Here.

You listen to each others breathing, neither one of you saying a word. Your eyes adjust, and you see the shape of him, darkened and identified by the sharp cut of his cheeks and the whites of his eyes. He’s staring at you too, and you wonder how much he can make out in the dark. Does he see the faded scars on your face or the tilt of your lips? Or does he see further, into you, and see all the thoughts and desires and twisted wants filling your head as you stare at him?

House is the first to break the silence, and does so by scooching closer. “Get over here.”

You chuckle quietly at his demand, but obey, shuffling closer until your arm brushes his. “I never took you as a cuddler.”

Somehow, even in the dark you can tell he’s rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t resist your observation, and rather he slips his hand under you, clinging to your back and drawing you even closer. You swing your arm out, to make sure you don’t suffocate in his shoulder, but more importantly to wrap around him too. There’s more shuffling and twisting from the both of you, but eventually, you find a comfortable position. You’re tucked into his side and his other hand rests on your thigh, drawing you leg across his hip. You ask him if that’s alright, if it hurts his leg, if he’s fine, and he scoffs lightly. “My leg won’t ever stop me from having you this close.” As if to emphasise your position, he rolls his hips forward, dragging himself against your bare core. But even House, it seems, is tired, because he relaxes and takes it no further.

Both of your hands are wrapped around his waist, and you nuzzle your face into him, inhaling him and the smell of whiskey, detergent, and House. He laughs down at you, softly. “And you said I was the cuddler.”

“‘Shuddup.” You say, but the word is muffled in the fabric of his shirt. You twist your head, and kiss his bicep where his sleeve has risen up. He swallows, and you get the sense the rise and fall of his rib cage stutters.

You drift off like that, clinging to House. His breathing deepens, and as you fall asleep, you feel him shift slightly, before he kisses your head.

#house md x reader #house md fanfiction #house md #gregory house x reader #gregory house #greg house x f!reader #gregory house fic #gregory house smut

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rollinouttahere-writes · 4 months

Note

May I request A B I K L with Luffy?

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

I really hope that you aren't touch averse, because your personal space is also his now. Luffy is in a constant state of touching you in one way or another. He's always holding your hand, hugging you, hanging off of you, poking and prodding at you for attention, or carrying/dragging you around depending on your height. Luffy is the clingiest man you'll ever meet, and he's strong enough to make sure that you can't escape it.

He also likes doing stuff with you. His favorite part about going to a new island is bouncing around to all of the local food spots to try them with you. He lives for adventure and wants to experience those with you by his side.

Luffy goes hard with everything he does, and that applies to his love for you. While he is far from a romantic, everyone can tell that you're together in one way or another from watching how Luffy interacts with you. His love is intense and suffocating, and most of all, inescapable.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Luffy is the last person to care about making a mess. If he gets bloodied from beating a rival or threat to a pulp, so be it. He won't even notice until you're cringing away from him and begging for him to bathe first. He's the kind of person that will stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about, and of course that applies to you. You're never going to have to be afraid of anything or anyone besides him with Luffy around.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Another one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of a guy. He has his ultimate goal of being the pirate king and wants to celebrate that with you by his side, and likewise wants to be with you whenever you achieve your own goals, but outside of that he's just going to see where life takes the two of you. As long as you're with him, and have ideally fully accepted him and his love, he doesn't really care that much what happens.

He's a lot like Ace in the sense that marriage straight up never crosses his mind. He thinks it's kind of dumb and pointless. It's not like he's going to up and throw away his darling one day just because of the absence of a marriage certificate, so what's the point? He's the pirate king, and you're his pirate queen/king/royalty figure of sorts. Isn't that good enough?

I can see him wanting to have a family one day with his darling, but that would be really far down the line. He wouldn't even start thinking about it until he's in his thirties at least. And well, I hope you also want children because once his mind is set, that's it. It's going to happen.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

A lot of people mistake you two for being just friends with the way he acts. He's so carefree and goofy with you. It isn't that much different from how he acts around his nakama, just more excessive and he kisses you sometimes. He's very openly affectionate (see A for more detail on that) and isn't one to shy away from PDA.

If you're acting up and "being difficult", Luffy is prone to just ignoring it while keeping an iron-clad grip on you in hopes that you'll wear yourself out and drop it.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Luffy is never actively looking for love, so any relationship that does happen will be something of a slow burn friends to lovers type situation. More likely than not, you will be a part of his crew well before he starts to catch feelings for you. The love progresses so slowly and naturally, that when paired with his tendency to already go to the extreme for the people in his life, his darling might not catch on to the fact that he's even yandere for them.

Your relationship doesn't even get a label until someone else points it out, and by that point you're going to already be blinded by his friendly demeanor and probably have no objection to it.

#monkey d luffy #luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere #x reader #reader insert

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murderofravens · 9 months

Text

it doesn't matter now | y.i.

yuuji itadori x reader (any gender)

warnings: dubcon/noncon, blood, emotional and physical abuse, emotional manipulation and mention of death.

post shibuya yandere yuuji whose psyche is so fucked up that he begins using sukuna as an excuse to abuse you. maybe the two of you were in a healthy, loving relationship. you've been his rock through and through, but the aftermath of shibuya came with these slight differences in yuuji's personality and treatment towards you. he gets angry more frequently, he's colder, a little distant. sex with him is different too— he's rougher, degrades you more often, seeks his own pleasure and often leaves you hanging. his strength only ever increases, and sex with him is more hurtful than it is pleasurable.

his lack of control over his life results in him wanting to gain more control over you— which he expresses through a myriad of purple bruises in the shapes of his fingers and bleeding bites all over your body. and even though you only ever want to help— it is clear his treatment has a negative impact on you both physically and mentally. if you try to reject his advances, try to make an excuse; he only manages to emotionally manipulate you into believing that this is what he needs. one time, he choked you so hard you almost passed out. he slaps you into silence if you cry or tell him to slow down. he doesn't recognise his own strength, of maybe he does, he just doesn't care— so it often results with a dark, blossoming bruise the size of his hand on your cheek. those bruises on your neck are too dark to hide with concealer, and you try to be patient, to communicate about how hurtful this is to you, that he's changed, but it's always the same excuse. you want to be understanding— you've loved this boy with everything in you. he used to be a ray of sunshine, your light in the darkness, untainted by the horrors of the world. a smile so bright, it erased all problems in your life.

you want to be there for him, but he's changed. him not taking a no for an answer and his emotional unavailability eventually leads to you seeking an out from the relationship.

it doesn't sit well with him, of course. he lost everyone in his life— he can't lose you either. he tries to force you back into his life, and no matter how much you fight back, he's always stronger. he only tells you that he needs you— through a flurry of forceful kisses that feel more like bites and sharp thrusts that leave you breathless and wanting to throw up. he's made you bleed one too many times. when it gets too much— you scream at him to stop, claw at his arms, kick and thrash, but he doesn't. it only fuels the fire in his veins. it reminds him of mahito, a little, how he was thrashing and crying when he was below yuuji. it fills him with a burning sensation to take out the anger of his losses on you.

and when he's done, and you're a mess of bloody bruises and tears, refusing to meet his eyes— he showers you with kisses that only make your heart race with fear. your old yuuji would never do this. and he tells you that wasn't him. that it was sukuna's influence. that he loves you and he'd never do anything bad unless he was truly provoked. he tells you sukuna has been prompting him to do this, but you know all too well the difference between your once loving boyfriend and the demon that resides inside him. but there's no one you can go to help now— nanami is dead. he would have saved you. he was like a father to you, afterall. nobara is dead too. she would have helped you— she was strong. she would beat the common sense back into yuuji. and gojo is sealed. you're afraid megumi wouldn't believe you if you told him— he's too blinded by his belief in his best friend. yuuji wasn't always like this, afterall, and at the end of the day, it's not like yuuji will let you out of his sight long enough for you to ask for help.

it doesn't matter now. yuuji will do all he can so he doesn't lose you too, and if he has to take extreme measures to keep your life under his control, he'll do it. all you can do is sit back and take it, and hope your yuuji will return to you someday.

#this was a little self indulgent #and honestly #i dont know how i suddenly got inspired #anyways #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #my yuuji <3 #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yuji x reader

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Note

A very horny Monday to you!

On this fine day let's think, thirst and talk about... OVA with your tattoo artists 😏

And it only took me until Wet Wednesday to respond. Hehe.

O - Andy Barber

We know Andy is a bit of a grump. No one can really blame him after losing his son and divorcing Laurie. So when you burst into his life, all smiles and brightness, it's almost blinding. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of you when you left his shop.

He wonders if you'd smile when you drop to your knees for him. Or if you'd moan at the first touch of your tongue on his cock. Picturing those pretty eyes of your filled with tears because you're so full on him is almost enough for him to lose it as he strokes himself. But it isn't just your mouth he thinks about.

He wonders just how sweet you taste.

He sure as hell can't taste the sun, but he wants you to burn his tongue with your essence. He wants to feel your fingers twist through his hair as he has his fill. Wants his beard soaked with your release. After being along for so long, he's knows he's going to be a bit of a selfish lover and indulge. But he'll make it good for you.

Until you're begging for him to stop. *****

V - Steve Rogers

You were done for when you walked into the shop. If you weren't so afraid of getting your first tattoo, your panties would've been drenched from the smirk Steve gave you. He sensed it, too, since he ended up taking you home and having you as his own personal birthday present.

He isn't one to grab, but he's a big boy and knows he is. He takes pride in ruining your pretty pussy and he swore he never felt anything so warm, wet, and tight before you. He doesn't have to tell you that you're ruined, but you both know it. And the moans you let out as filthy praise falls from his lips as you take him is enough to make him wonder why you hadn't walked into his shop, and life, sooner.

He asks himself the same thing again in his mind when he fills you up.

You may be a sweet teacher by day, but you're his Rose now and a slut for his cock. But not just a slut. HIS slut. That's important to differentiate.

*****

A - Bucky Barnes

Bucky is a little possessive of Sugar. He can't help himself. It isn't like Richard though or any other asshole. Bucky respects and cares for you. He only wants the best for you.

He also wants to make you feel good.

You've never had your ass fucked. You didn't want that with Richard or, really, any other guy. But the thought of Hottie wrecking your holes though and claiming every single part of you? That's a different story.

And Bucky knows it's another display of your vulnerability and, fuck, is he going to make sure you remember how good it can feel. Another big boy, he's going to take his time stretching you and easing himself in when he knows you're ready for him. He'd take it slow and whisper how well you're doing for him as he plays with your clit, wanting you to know that he's going to put your pleasure first.

Practically sobbing as you tighten around him, he keeps his mouth against your skin as he talks you through it. That he's there. He's got you, Sugar. You're so good for him. And thanking you for trusting him to take care of you.

He always will.

*****

Love and thanks! ❤️

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anangelinthepit · 1 month

Text

Baby, you're the Right Kind of Wrong

Hey guys, sorry this story was put on the backburner. I got a new series coming, and I was focusing on BMB. Anya, I hope you all enjoy it and let me know if I should continue this series. I love you all

-Magenta 🌹

Small warning ⚠️ there is a sex scene, so please be advised.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Part 5

Y/N pov

My body, heart, and mind have been aching ever since I left my parents. Not because I missed them but because I put up with their bullshit for so long and was blinded by obedience. How could I be so brainwashed into thinking that was love? I wanna scream, but I'm just so tired, all I can do is lay here as the bruises from Papa’s belt form on my skin. Warm tears ran down my face onto the silk pillowcase, maybe taking a shower will ease some of this pain And help me forget. I don't wanna face anyone right now, not even Noah. Am I doing this? Running away with a boy that I just met and putting all my hopes into him? What the hell is wrong with me? That situation brought out the worst in him and part of me feels he might have developed some resentment against me. I met him a day ago and twisted his peaceful universe into a spiraling hell. I sighed and got up slowly trying to make my way to the door but my legs were killing me. I guess that all the adrenaline that was pumping through my body numbed the fact that I was burned, cut, and bruised. As I put my hand on the handle, it started to turn, meaning someone else was trying to come in. Noah beat me to it, and I'm gonna have to face him.

“How are you holding up, Angel? he asked.

“As good as I can be, I guess, I was just on my way to go take another shower,” I said, looking down, not being able to make eye contact with him. God, the guilt I felt.

“Do you need anything? You can borrow more of my clothes tonight if you want until we can get you some more,” he said, walking over to his dresser, digging through them once again

“That would be nice. My clothes smell like cigarette smoke, unfortunately.”

Noah handed me a pair of grey sweatpants with a t-shirt that had some character on it, holding what I presumed to be a whiskey bottle.

Man this guy's clothing choice is a bit strange

I smiled and said, "Thank you”. We shared an awkward silence once again, but this time, I had enough courage to break it.

“I'm sorry, Noah.”

“For what baby?”

Baby…

“For what? Noah, I turned your world upside down in one freaking day. You put yourself in harm's way and pulled out a gun all for what.”

“To protect the girl I fell in love with,” he said, crossing his arms.

This entire thing feels like a fucking dream that turns into a nightmare then back to a dream. How could he love me? I'm nobody. Unless it's just he loves the idea of me. Think about it, I'm a girl who has never been touched before and so clueless, I'm an easy target, and what Mama calls an “easy lay”. Now I'm starting second. I guess my decision.

Noah grabbed my arm and sat me down in front of him. I was worried that what I said offended him because the look he gave me was so cold.

“Y/N I know all this is a lot and I promise you we will take things slow but my priority was getting you away from that Hell house. Even if you didn't want to be with me, I still made you my responsibility.”

Responsibility? He makes it sound like I’m a chore

“The fact that other people could look at your arms and think what was going on was okay makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I couldn't sleep the night you left knowing all this. When you were staying over, I went downstairs and cornered Jolly and Ana. I know you were pissed at her for telling me and trust me she was reluctant to, but I didn't give her a choice. I had my theories, and they were confirmed that night. Even if you weren’t in trouble, I decided that you were coming back to a home where you had people who cared about you. A home where no one would dare lay a finger on you.”

“Noah I want to be with you, but it's just all strange to me that within one day you told me you loved me. You don't even know who I am as a person.”

“Is it strange because no one has told you that and meant it?”

Ouch, that hurt

“What are you insinuating?” I crossed my arms and stared at Noah, I'm not trying to defend my parents, but he also doesn't understand there is more to the story.

“Do you honestly think what your parents did to you was love”

“My parents do love me Noah they're just sick.”

“So that gives them a fucking right to beat on you? Y/N If you thought what had happened was okay and you loved your parents, you wouldn't have called Ana's phone begging her to save you.”

Noah started to slightly raise his voice and it made me shut down. I didn't want to make him angry, but he needed to see how odd this was from my point of view. Not wanting to make eye contact with him anymore, I just shook my head in silence. I hate arguing, and from what I'm seeing, there is no winning in this one.

“Y/N, look at me.”

I looked at Noah and saw that his demeanor had changed to his softer side

“Y/N. you beautiful, broken, naive angel, I fucking love you and I'm not going to hurt you. Not like them. Let me at least show you what real love is supposed to look like. Please.”

Hes lying. None of this is real. Mama always told us men only want one thing.

I threw my head into my hands, trying to prevent the tears from coming out and the voice to stop talking. He's not lying. No man would do this just for some sex. There's no way.

“Noah. I'm scared.” I said with tears now pouring down my bruised cheek. Noah gently grabbed my hand and caressed his face with it. Giving it a gentle kiss and looking into my eyes.

“The fear you carry is small compared to the love that I will give to you. It will always prevail Y/N. It's you and I from now on, got it? I got you, and I will never let you fall.”

Within that moment, Noah's lips clashed with mine, sending me back to cloud 9. I didn't want him to stop, but I wasn't ready to go any further. Noah pulled away and gently rubbed his thumb up against my cheek.

“Now go take a shower, I got something planned for us when you get back out,” he said with a smile.

I nodded and went about my way. Is this what love is? Unconditional? If so, I have it now, and I never want to lose it. I never want to lose him.

He'll get tired of you eventually. You're not worth it.

That thought made me grab my head and run into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and slid down to the floor. Even after all of Noah's reassurance, the voice keeps creeping in. God help me.

Noah’s POV

Gonna have to do a lot of damage control with her, but it'll all be worth it. I was getting ready to order food for the house and pick out which horror movie would be best. She was never allowed to watch movies, so I feel like a movie night would be the best way to welcome her home. I got a knock on the door, and it was Matt.

“What's up ?”

“How's she holding up?” Matt asked

“Brusied to the core and mentally fragile. I guess as good as a girl who's been through the worst can be.” I said, scrolling through my phone.

“Listen, man, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but… just be careful. Don't forget to take care of yourself too. Sometimes, people lose themselves trying to take care of others” Matt said while rubbing the back of his neck

I wanted to get mad at what he said, but he was right. After all, he is my friend and he cares about me. I looked up at him and shook my head in agreement.

“With that being said, I'm also glad you did what you did. God only knows what would have happened if you hadn't gone back for her.”

“Makes me wonder. If God already knew, why would he let it happen?”

Matt was about to say something when Y/N walked in. Even covered in bruises, she was still so ducking beautiful. Beautifully broken.

“Your clothes are so comfy. At this point, your wardrobe is mine now.”

I smiled at her, but she was still able to see something was up with both of us. Guess I wasn't good at hiding my thoughts.

“Is everything okay? You guys look like you've just got some bad news.”

“I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm starving, the food is on its way, and we’re all gonna pile downstairs for a movie night. “ Matt said, trying to change the subject

“Sounds like fun.”

We all made our way downstairs and ended the night with Thai food and scary movies.

“So which one are we doing, Y/N turns to pick. Don't let us down.” Matt asked, holding up options

“Well, this one looks good.”

“No way, Y/N, are you trying to have nightmares,” I said in shock

How does this chick know what the grudge is?

“You know, for someone who talks about dethroning god, you're a real pussy.” Y/N joked

“Woahhhh language missy. We got virgin ears around here ” Folio said, holding his own

“Damn Noah, I didn't know your girl had it in her,” Jolly said, patting my shoulder

“Im pussy huh? We’ll see who's the real one after the movie. And you can't hide in my lap either.” I joked

“Pfft, what good is hiding behind you when you're scared too.”

“Be quiet and put the movie in.”

We all shared some funny jokes and a few good laughs. Something in me started to feel almost full. Like I had everything I ever wanted. My friend, my home, and now my girl. Everything has finally fallen into place, and I got my life back to where it needs to be.

At least, that's what I thought until Matt had some news for the band

About two months had almost gone by, and everything was perfect. Y/N adjusted so well to her new life, and we were even planning on moving to California.

“Are we really going to LA,” Y/N asked

“Oh yes, we are. It's gonna be me, you, and the beautiful West Coast sunset.” I hugged Y/N from behind and kissed her neck,

“Noah stop you're making me blush.”

“That's the whole point angel.”

“I don't mean to break you two love birds up, but Noah, I gotta talk to you,” Matt said, walking into the kitchen. I could tell it was something serious, so I told him lets go out on the back patio."

I winked at Y/N and closed the doors behind me.

“Everything okay?” I asked

“Summerian just booked you guys for an 8-month tour across the states.”

“What! Matt, you gotta be kidding me. We just got off of tour and are trying to adjust. I can't make Y/N travel all over the place.”

I started pacing and wondering why in the hell we ever signed with this company, to begin with. It's been non-stop touring one day after another.

“That's the bad news, Y/N can't follow us on this one,” Matt said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously,

“Now I know you're fucking joking.”

“I'm sorry dude but it's gonna look really bad when you have a girl following you around. The fanbase is gonna drop tremendously. I'm sorry she just gonna have to sit this one out.

“This is fucking bullshit.”

I looked up and saw Y/N sitting on the island sipping away at her tea. Looking so peaceful and happy, she noticed I was staring at her and smiled at me. Can I go 8 months without touching her or kissing her? Of course, I can’t but we need the money. Realizing I don’t have any other option, I start to get up and make my way to the door.

“When do we leave?”

“This Saturday”

“Of fucking course.”

I walked back into the kitchen and kissed Y/N on the forehead.

“Everything okay?”

“We gotta talk angel.”

Y/N POV

“8 Months? Baby that's not too terrible.”

“You’re….You’re okay with it?”

“I mean I’m not excited about it, being away from you for so long does give me some anxiety but I trust you, my love. You’ve never given me a reason not to and you know I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.”

Noah seemed a little taken aback by my reaction to the news but I couldn’t help it. I’m trying to work on keeping myself together and not falling apart with every piece of bad news I receive. And even though it’s killing me deep down that he has to leave, I need to understand this is his line of work.

Noah got up and hugged me, I felt a few tears drop down onto my head. I looked up at Noah and caressed his face.

“Baby I’ll be here waiting for you. Okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise”

The rest of the band started to make their way to the house and go over the details for this. I never realized how much planning goes into a long tour but it does make sense. I stuck around for a bit and hung out with everyone. I wanted to enjoy the last two days with Noah before he had to leave but as the clock hit midnight it made me realize I only had one day left. The anxiety began to creep up on me and I felt it was best to go up to the room and try to sleep it off. I got up trying not to draw too much attention to myself but of course, Noah noticed.

I got up to the room and went to shut the door but a hand stopped it from closing completely. When I turned around I saw Noah in the doorway right behind waiting for an explanation.

“Baby?”

I tried to brush it off as nothing but he knew better

“Y/N please talk to me.”

Noah gently guided my hand making me move over to our bed. We sat down and just looked into each other’s eyes. At this point, I think both of us realized what needed to be said, especially since there were tears in mine. Pulling me close to him I no longer could hold in my feelings.

“Noah I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, crying into his chest.

“I know, baby, but it's something we have to do. These 8 months will go by quickly, and before you know it, it will be in California with our toes in the sand. That'll be the first thing we do.”

“Promise?”

“I promise”

The thought of our new life starting soon made me so happy. It's only 8 months we can do this. We both calmed down and started talking about all the things we should do before he left. Our favorite diner, the park where we took our first pictures together. We’re gonna do all of it tomorrow. Hopefully, it will help make the final departure from each other easier. I was stuck in my thoughts when Noah's voice brought me back to reality.

“Baby”

“Yea?”

“There's one thing I want us to do before I leave,” Noah said, sitting up

“What's that?”

Noah laid down on top of me and began kissing me passionately. Things were very heated between us and I could feel Noah's hand slowly make its way down my body. Lifting my shirt to reveal my breasts, Noah’s soft lips left mine and began kissing my nipples. I let out what I thought was an embarrassing moan, but it made him smile.

“Oh baby please don’t be shy, it’s just me and you. I need to know that what I do to you feels good. Let me hear you.”

As Noah said that, his hand slipped under my dress, fingertips caressing my inner thigh. My breath hitched, my heart racing as I felt him reach the apex of my thighs, panties damp. Pulling the material to the side, he swiped his fingers through my drenched folds, my slick gathering on his fingers to bring them up and around my swollen clit.

My hands shot to his forearm for purchase as my head fell back, jaw slack. There was a pause as two expertly long fingers pushed inside me, causing me to cry out, my walls clamping tight around him.

“That's right, baby, let it out.”

Noah's pace began to pick up, making me arch my back. An unfamiliar feeling began to fill my lower stomach, a feeling I didn't want to go away.

“N- Noah” I whimpered

“Cum for me baby.”

I covered my face and let out a cry. I could hear Noah giggling because he knew what he did to me. Crashing his lips into mine, I could feel his hard cock near my folds. I wanted him more than anything, but being a virgin made me so nervous, I wasn't experienced and had no clue what to do. I could feel my body tense up at the thought of this but Noah's reassuring words helped me relax

“We don't have to do this.”

“I'm not going 8 months without feeling you. I want this.”

“I'm not going to lie to you, my love. It's gonna sting, and you are going to bleed.

“I know.”

“Okay, just know, no matter what happens, it's okay. Alright?”

“Noah. Make love to me please”

Noah kissed me one last time before sliding his cock into me. God he wasn't kidding the sting was almost unbearable.

“Hold on to me, my love, I promise the pain will stop”

I dug my fingernails into his back, trying to distract myself from the pain. Each thrust felt like he went deeper and deeper. By the fourth thrust, the pain turned into tear-jerking pleasure. The sound of Noah moaning mixed with the pleasure that painted his face made this all the better. I could feel that now familiar sensation build up with each thrust

“Noah. Noah Baby, I'm so close”

“Me to my love, look at me”

Our eyes met as we both shared a soul-binding orgasm. Noah fell to the side and pulled me in for a hot and sweaty hug. Kissing me on my cheek, I could see that he was blushing.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course, my angel. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

We lay there for hours talking about us and how we knew we were in this for good. Our future, our dreams, and California. Everything will be better in Cali. The sun started to rise, telling us it was a new day. Also, letting us know that this was our last day together.

“I don't want this night to end,” I said, holding him close.

“Don’t worry, my love, this is the first of many,” he said, smiling while kissing my nose.

We got out and went to clean ourselves off. I would be lying if I said we didn't try to do it once more time in the shower. Well, let's just say soap and sex do not mix. Noah ended up slipping and fell out of the shower, taking down the curtain and me with him. Normally, in a situation where people would be mad, we were able to find the humor in it.

“Okay never again in the shower”

“Agreed,” I said, trying to get off of him.

We laughed and realized we probably woke the whole house up. Finishing up in the bathroom, we got dressed and went back to the room. Noah's alarm went off letting him know it was time for us to get ready. We were supposed to meet the band for breakfast. Noah shut his phone off and grabbed me.

“Come here, you”

“Noah quit it” I giggled

“Nope, you're mine now.”

“You know Matt gonna be pissed if we miss the meeting.”

“He’ll be alright,” Noah said, getting on top of me

“You know you're my everything, right?”

“Of course I do.”

Noah began kissing me when I felt something slide on my right ring finger. When I looked down, I saw it was a little diamond ring.

“Noah?”

“It's not a wedding ring, I know you're not ready for that. It's a promise ring.”

“What kind of promise?”

“A promise that I'm yours and only yours and I will dedicate my life to us. A promise that one day you will walk down that aisle to me and say I do.”

He's giving me a promise. I know he’ll keep it. Mama and Papa were wrong, This man is my angel.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Sorry guys, I didn't realize how long this one was. I hope you all enjoy 🩵 shouting out to @reyadawn for helping me 🩵🩵 love you bestie

@reyadawn @bloodylullaby @fadingintothegrey @chey-h @thisbicc @hurricanesfollowyou @supersquirrel1996 @dreamstyles

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noahsebastiancult #noah sebastian davis #beautiful man #i love him #love him #baby boi #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fanfiction

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crocwearingcryprid · 2 months

Text

I have no Idea how to name this au guy's....

Summary: Elias Bouchard knew a lot about Jonah, that's kinda what happens when you're stuck in the guy's subconscious for more than twenty years unable to move or say anything while the bastard uses your body, he couldn't even see all that great since the silvery bratty eyes in his skull weren't actually his.

Needless to say he was not a fan of Jonah, so when Melanie throws coffee in the guy's eyes making him temporarily subdued while blinded Elias takes the chance and removes Jonah the way he came from.

By carving out his eyes obviously.

What next you ask? Elias didn't think that far, but hey! He's rich now with a hot lonely sailor around in the area, sky daddy supplying him with weed and two of his employees' who need help with coming to terms with their fat gay crushes on each other and a whole institute to run wild.

Oh, and Jonah watching from the jar, maybe he'll add glitter to it, bet it would sting.

Chapter one:

Elias smirked, stirring the coffee just finishing his remark about poisons. Children these days knew nothing on how to kill people it seemed. Suddenly the cup was snatched back from him, spilling some of it onto his lap and desk. He hissed looking up at the woman ready to speak but just as he opened his mouth Melanie threw the coffee straight at his eyes and it was such a fast movement without conscious thought even beholding didn't predict it. Slaughter was like that, instant and burning. His eyes were burning, his eyes- Something in the back of his skull pressed forward and Elias let out a whine world going black.

Elias took a breath, snapped his head towards Melanie and pushed her away, walking forward grabbing the door handle in order the flee the scene as fast as he could… but before that he looked in her direction which was a blurry mess right now and said as loudly as he could;

"You're fired." Melanie gasped and Elias was gone.

He still had the tiny spoon clutched in his hand.

His fingers brushed against the tiled wall of the bathroom squeezing his eyelids tightly, only one thing spinning round in his mind.

Don't wake up, don't wake up, fucking please-

His hands gripped the sink and he turned on the water rinsing out the spoon. He opened one of Johna's eyes with his thumb and pointer finger keeping the eyelid as wide as it was possible, then he aligned the spoon against it taking a long breath.

Time to carve him out. He smiled in panic, feeling the man pressing against his temple from inside, not yet conscious, their vision was too fucked up for the Eye to have enough power to keep Jonah awake in this state. The eyes would soon heal though, they always did no matter how hard Elias tried. Not this time though.

He pressed the small spoon underneath the eyeball, biting his lip bloody, with a whimper he split it as far as he could and pulled.

The eyeball fell into the sink with a loud splat making his stomach recoil. Jonah screamed, he could feel his trying to pull himself back up front but he was too slow. Elias already dug the spoon into their second eye.

The world went black, his face flushed and sticky from blood.

His face, his face, his own again, his, his, his…

Elias started laughing because there was nothing to cry from anymore.

The eyeballs were moving, he could hear them splashing inside the sink like two little shrimps. Elias didn't know how long he sat there on the floor but he hadn't heard anyone approach the door which was good.

"Shut up Jonah." He muttered through the pain briefly, wondering If he could just flush his down the toilet, no, no Elias didn't want to give the guy any chances, the last thing he needed was a Beholding crocodile with very human eyes and vendetta against him. He needed a jar but there was no way he could go to the kitchen like this, would Rosie help without asking any questions? Elias wasn't sure.

Garbage bag for now it is. He extended his foot looking for one of the small trash cans, he hit one and took out the bag leaving the interior on the floor.

It was weird moving his body, for years he just watched but the vision was like looking through a wavy glass, they weren't his eyes after all, the only thing he could do was listen and listen… Maybe that's why the blindness came easier to him. It was still fucking terrifying but manageble.

Jonah wiggled, grabbing Elia's hand with the eye's exposed nerves trying to bury underneath his skin. Gross.

"I can still squash you with my shoe!" He shoved the eyeballs into the trash bag and took a breath. Time to come back to their office and find some sunglasses.

-¹-

"Wait, he really fired you?"

"You tried to poison him!?" Marin hissed in panic, his round eyes going even wider. He couldn't help but glance at the coffee staining Melanie's shirt.

"If all it takes is splashing Elias with a hot beverage- I can't believe I'm going to say this but Marin; make us some tea." Tim grinned. Jon winced not looking too convinced.

"Did you test it?" Jon asked as always the bringer of bad news. "Do you feel any… Different?"

"No, but- shit I just told you I got fired."

"Yes, but…"

"I'm fired!" Melanie screamed then smiled like a mad woman. "See? It worked I can fucking say it."

"I got fired." She continued. "And Elias can shove it up his twink tight ass!" She started gathering her things and putting them back inside her bag. "Sorry guys but I'm gonna go before he changes his mind or something… Would say see you later but I would rather not." She laughed again.

"Wait." Jon extended his hand looking Melanie up and down, his pupils did that twitchy thing they did when he was concentrating.

"Try to say the Q word." Jon continued. Martin let out a small sigh, getting tired of this conversation. Tim was far too close to Melanie looking at her like at a science experiment or Jesus reincarnate sent to save them all.

"My fucking God Jon."

"Just do it."

"I Qu-" She choked on the word. "I Qui-" Melanie's face went red and Marin decided to make tea before tables went flying. "This little fucking bitch-!"

"Way to get our hopes up." Tim looked like a kicked puppy, he muttered. Jon flinched a bit at her outburst which made Martin feel sad, it wasn't Jon's fault but everyone seemed to think It was for some reason.

"I'm going to kill him."

"Yeah, pick something better than drugged coffee next time." Tim waved a hand, then brightened. "Hey I'm sure If Martin brought him a poisoned tea bastard would actually fall for it.

"Tim…" Martin rolled his eyes. "No. Just no." He shook his head. "We can't kill our boss, have you all forgotten that? And even If we could, what the hell? Can't we do something like I don't know in ATLA take all his bad guy powers- Like, like they did with the fire lord!" Jon's face did something weird at the reference but Tim and Melanie seemed to get it even If they didn't approve.

"That's a kid's cartoon." Jon said after a while, everyone ignored him.

-²-

Elias didn't know how to go back home, there was no way he could work his phone, completely blinded and he couldn't get out and walk there in this condition either. He barely got to his office unnoticed.

Jonah was currently occupying a very fancy jar filled with water. Elias could hear the eyeballs clanking against the glass every now and then.

The adrenaline rush was starting to go down and it hurt so fucking much, still less then when Jonah inside Wright's body did it to him. A shiver ran down his spine.

Don't think about it.

He sat down on the floor next to his desk and started slowly undoing his shirt taking off all the layers. He pressed the soft material to his eyes to soak up the blood. How was he even going to clean it when he can't fucking see? Jesus that was going to be harder than Elias thought. He needed to go home and get high and maybe put Jonah's jar into the microwave.

His office door creaked. Fuck. Whoever it was didn't make a sound just stood there, he jerked his head up a little trying to think of something. If they weren't screaming or calling the ambulance it must be someone from the Archival crew, If it's Melanie again he's screwed. He could hear their breathing accessing the scene and… There was a faint smell of tea.

"... Yes, Martin?" Martin made a choked noise like he was swallowing down his own vomit. "Martin…" Elias got up on shaky legs clenching at the bloody spoon before pointing it at Martin.

"If you tell anyone about this i'm going to fuck your mom."

"W-what?"

-³-

#tma podcast #tma fanfic #the magnus institute #the magnus archives #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #original elias bouchard #fix it fic #jonah in a jar #tma ao3

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broken-glowsticks · 5 months

Text

What Once was Mine

Chapter 15 - Fraying Threads

Genre: Childhood friends, Eventual Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Love corner/love triangle, love rivals, Series.

Not all chapters will be proofread!!

Warnings: 18+, mdni, mentions of sex and alcohol consumption, additional warnings will be added to individual chapters as needed.

Previous • Main • Next

“I don't have any problem with you going to see him,” Changbin answered honestly, albeit tiredly, not even bothering to open his eyes as the morning sun streamed in through your blinds, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip.

“I don't have to go see him alone,” you offered, your face nuzzling into the dip where his shoulder and chest muscles met. Despite his clear statement, you still felt the need to give him as much space to be involved if he so chose, “You could come along and be in another room while we got into it, or… or something.” You felt stupid for how timidly you spoke, gently scratching patterns into Changbins chest as a way to semi distract yourself. You hated how nervous you felt talking about this.

“Bunny, it's okay, really.” Taking your chin between his fingers, Changbin tipped your face up to look at him, his eyes opening for the first time all morning. “I told you I trust you. If you're really worried about him, then go do what you have to do. I'll be here for you when you're done.”

Just like that, Changbins' steady gaze and gorgeous sunlit features dispelled any worry you were carrying. You couldn't do anything other than smile and kiss him silly, your fingers combing through those curls you were all too fond of. Changbin didn't protest, chuckling at your affection as his free hand rested on your ass - his favorite place for him to put it.

“When do you plan to go see him?” Changbin managed to ask between kisses, his hand on your rear drawing you in closer.

“Assuming he answers my call? As soon as possible,” you replied, noticing a familiar buzz start to hum under your skin again as wandering hands began trailing over your bare skin. “Again?”

“Yes, again. You can call him later,” Changbin said in a hungry tone, flipping you onto your back and trailing kisses down your neck. “Hell, go see him as soon as I leave for work for all I care.”

“Wait,” you cut off Changbins’ lowering kisses by propping yourself on your elbows, “you're still going to work today?”

Shit. Changbin bit at his lip, turning his gaze away from you.

“Yeah, I can't just leave the guys hanging. We're swamped.”

“Not even for a little bit?” You did nothing to hide the disappointment at the shake of Changbins' head. That's all you get? Sure, you said you'd take whatever he could give, but you were still hoping to get more than just a night with him to yourself. As hard as you tried, you still couldn't help but feel upset and disappointed.

You gave a little huff as you plopped back onto the bed. You wanted to whine, you wanted to pout, you wanted to make him stay. But you knew that wouldn't be fair. His torn despair was more than apparent on his face as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, as if the gesture could make up for him leaving you so soon.

“I'm sorry bun, I really am. I'm trying to give you as much of my time as I can, but the guys need me.”

“I know,” you said flatly, hugging him tightly, trying to press his warmth into your skin, wanting to neatly tuck this moment into your pocket to save for later. “Don't apologize, it's okay, I just wish we had more time.”

“I know, baby. Me too.”

Above being selfish, you wanted to be supportive. Changbin felt horrible, he knew he wasn't giving you enough time, that he wasn't giving you the attention you deserved, but he also couldn't just leave his friends hanging or expect them to pick up his slack. It was obvious, not only to you, but to everyone, that everytime poor Changbin spent time being there for his friends - at his job - that time with his girlfriend, who he liked so, so much, would suffer. If he spent time with you, he couldn't help but feel guilty that he was the only one getting a free pass to goof around and relax while his friends kept grinding away at the studio. No matter what, Changbin suffered a sense of guilt he just couldn't shake.

It's what made you swallow your disappointment and smother him in kisses instead. It's why Changbin tried to give you all his attention and treat you like a princess whenever the two of you were together. The both of you were doing everything you could to focus on making up for lost time, to fill every moment stuck to each other's side, instead of dwelling on the loneliness you both felt when you were apart. It wasn't sustainable, the both of you knew it, but it didn't have to be. This onslaught of demand couldn't last forever. All you had to do was wait. Things would calm down soon enough. Right?

○●☆♡☆●○

Lee Minho had known Hyunjin a grand total of two years, meeting the overdramatic man a meager two weeks before leaving his job at his little dance studio for a better offer.

Minho never wanted to admit this, but he liked Hyunjin immediately - although, if you were to ask him, he'd deny it. This is entirely the reason why the two kept in touch after Minho left the dance studio he and Hyunjin both worked at. Yeah, Hyunjin could really get on his nerves, but Minho could never deny the amount of care he had for the younger guy. They clicked too well. Despite any friction, they would always be there for each other - which is why Minho even bothered to say yes the day Hyunjin came to him, asking for help.

Every year, without fail, the dance studio Hyunjin worked for held a showcase during the spring. This showcase was pivotal in earning funding from investors and from the general public via donations and ticket sales. It also was the main way the studio drew in more students, as it was a way for people to not only see exactly how talented the staff were but also to see how far a student could progress.

This showcase was vital, which is why it was so detrimental that the studio was short on dancers this year. One had left, one got fired, and one was out on maternity leave. The studio wasn't big, not by any means, so while other studios could get by despite missing three bodies, this studio suffered.

The owner of this small company, Seungmin, was a good guy, and over the years, he and Hyunjin had fostered a pretty solid friendship. Hyunjin hated that his friend was in such a bind. That, paired with the fact that he still really loved his job and cared for his students, was all the drive Hyunjin needed to go above and beyond - it was also a much needed distraction for him.

Hyunjin did his best, giving as much of his time as he could to Seungmin, who was always there for him despite having little free time of his own. Not only was Hyunjin teaching his usual set of classes, but he was even covering the classes of the dancers who were gone, he was staying late to give extra help to anyone struggling, he was helping choreograph dances for the showcase, he was even looking for people to fill the open job vacancies.

It wasn't just him going above and beyond for Swungmin and his company, though. It was a group effort, everyone on the staff doing their part, pulling from their reserves, and giving as much extra time as they could. But it wasn't enough. They were coming up short. They were struggling to find dancers who had the necessary skill level they needed to perform the more complicated routines and who were also willing to double as dance instructors for daily classes.

It made sense why everyone in the company was having so many issues filling the three slots. The requirements were a pain to meet, and everyone was spread thin.

Eventually, Seungmin decided that for the sake of the showcase alone, he would outsource. He needed those spots filled as it was way too late to rechoreograph the whole show. The moment Seungmin announced this to the staff, Hyunjin immediately thought of Minho.

It took a bit of convincing, but that was mainly for show on Minho's part. He was a fast learner and often had evenings off - he only ever came home late from the studio because he wanted to refine his skills, never out of any sort of necessity. Hence, he saw no issue in taking that time to instead help his friend and former boss. It’s not like the choreography was hard either, not for Minho. The real trick was helping the other two temps get up to speed.

“Where did Seungmin find these guys? They suck,” Minho groaned, his hands rubbing roughly over his features to hopefully help ease the tension forming behind his eyes. It had already been a little over a week since Minho agreed to help, yet the two other people who were also brought on had yet to even memorize half of their routine.

“They were sent via a temp agency. They were the best we could come up with on such short notice,” Hyunjin replied through a mouthful of food. “It wasn’t anybody’s first choice, but nobody was picking up Seungmin’s ad.”

“Well, that explains it,” Minho said flatly, flopping back on the grass below him and taking in the nice spring breeze. It was the first week of the year that the weather had finally stabilized into consistent warmth and sun.

“Don’t sweat it, I’ll whip them into shape, even if I have to work with them all night to do it.”

“In other words, you’ll pour all your time and attention into a distraction so you don’t have to think about Y/N,” Minho replied in a deadpan, not taking his eyes off the clouds floating above.

“... No,” Hyunjin said petulantly, taking another bite of his sandwich and avoiding Minho’s pointed gaze that was now locked right onto him.

“Have you heard from her?” Hyunjin took a moment before bothering to respond.

“She called and even left me a few texts. I haven’t texted her back.”

“You can’t keep ignoring her forever, you know?”

“I'm not ignoring her! I've just been-!

“Don’t even start Hyunjin,” Minho said sternly, sitting up and leaning into Hyunjins face, staring the younger man dead in the eye. “When are you going to learn to stop avoiding all your problems, man?” A part of Minho knew better than to push Hyunjin, but with all the frustration from the past few days of working with absolute morons, Minho was a bit on edge and unfortunately not in the mood to pull punches with Hyunjin today.

“Every time things get uncomfortable or rough, you try to push your emotions down as far as you can. You never deal with things. It's why you’ve never confessed to Y/N even when you could've had her. It's why you didn't fight for her when some other guy came to take her away. Even now, you're burying yourself in work instead of facing those yucky feelings you felt when you saw her kissing someone who wasn't you. Hell, even now, you’re working so hard for Seungmin and this showcase because you're scared of how things will change if you can't find replacements for the staff you lost. Because all change scares you.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’ Jin, you don't have to be working yourself as hard as you are for Seungmin or the studio. They'll be fine. You know who won't be fine, though? You, if you don't stop running from your feelings and from Y/N.” With a huff Minho once again flopped back onto the soft, warm grass, his frustration glare pointed towards the sky. “No, I take that back. The only one who's not going to be okay is me if I have to correct those temps one more time on the same damn move! Aaauuhg!”

Hyunjin chuckled at Minho's frustrated scream but was quite otherwise. He didn't quite know what to say, he didn't know what to feel either at Minho's outburst, all he knew was that his phone alarm was going off.

“Back to it,” Hyunjin said simply, gathering his trash and making his way back inside with Minho in tow.

○●☆♡☆●○

The two of them acted like Minho's little speech outside didn't happen while rehearsals continued. Individually, both had decided it was more imperative that they focused on practice - specifically in helping the two temps who were struggling severely. It wasn't their fault, neither of these two guys specialized in dance, but after a few hours Hyunjin could see that Minho was getting frustrated having to repeat himself over and over again only for the temp he was partnered with to repeatedly make the exact same mistake.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Hyunjin suggested to the small group. It was only Hyunjin, Minho, and the two temps in one of the smaller practice rooms of the studio. Hyunjin had volunteered to teach the group of recruits but had more than enough experience to not need any assistance, and he memorized the steps quickly. This gave him plenty of space to act effectively as another mentor as the small group drilled the routine incessantly.

“Yes. A break, I need a break,” Minho huffed as he booked it to the door, trying to keep his frustration in check. His capacity to be understanding and forgiving only stretched so far.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to get the hang of this…” Minhos’ partner whined the second Minho left the room, a look of worry twisting the boy's features.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Minho just gets like that sometimes,” Hyunjin said reassuringly, a kind smile on his face. “How about we trade partners for a bit?” Hyunjin suggested, ignoring the obvious pout that the girl he was partnered with gave.

“Really? You don’t mind it?” The boy replied hopefully.

“Yeah, I'll let Minho know, rest up in the meantime.” The boy nodded enthusiastically at Hyunjins’ words, going off to the corner to warm down while the girl huffed and busied herself with reviewing the choreography.

“Hey,” Hyunjin called gently, first poking his head out of the practice room before fully stepping out once Minho bothered to make eye contact.

“Hey,” Minho replied flatly, turning his attention back to the water fountain. “Sorry, I just…”

“You don’t have to apologize, I get it. It can be hard teaching someone else.”

“Especially when you’re telling them exactly what to do, and they just won’t listen,” Minho groaned, once again rubbing at the points of tension on his face. “I don’t know how you do it all day, and you make it look so easy. When you explain something to someone, they listen, even if they don’t nail a move right away, they still improve.”

“Hey, it was hard when I first started too,” Hyunjin chuckled, pulling Minho to a nearby bench. “You figure out what works with time and, to be fair, you’re not really here to be a teacher. So don’t be too hard on yourself for getting frustrated, especially since these two seem to be having a particularly strong affinity for messing up their moves.”

“And stepping on my toes!” Minho quipped with a small grin.

The two boys shared a laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. It was nice for Hyunjin to hear Minho acknowledge how difficult it could be to be a teacher, it was even nicer that Minho was trying anyway - so Hyunjin didn’t have to do everything all on his own. Minho really was a good friend. He always looked out for Hyunjin, even if the two of them could bicker like there was no tomorrow, always there for him, ready to speak his mind or tell the truth even if Hyunjin didn't want to hear it. Especially when Hyunjin needed to hear it.

“... I hate to admit this. You were right,” Hyunjin said suddenly, staring off into space.

“I'm always right. You need to be more specific,” Minho replied instantly, doing the same. Hyunjin gave a rough sigh and a shake of his head but couldn't help his smile.

“About me and Y/N… mainly about me.” Minho turned his gaze to Hyunjin, giving the younger guy space to speak at his leisure while showing that he was paying attention. “I am avoiding her,” Hyunjin continued, “and I am avoiding my feelings… seems to be my main problem... I'm just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Like you said, of change, of losing her for good, of fucking things up so royally that I could never go back to any semblance of normalcy.”

“And you watching as she builds a life with someone else while you pine from a distance is ‘normal’?”

“Ouch…”

“I'm not wrong and you know it.”

“Yeah… I know…” Hyunjin sighed, leaning back and gently hitting his head against the wall behind them a few times. The two fell into silence once more.

“The way I see it,” Minho began gently, after the silence stretched a little too long for him, “you have two options. One - you tell her how you feel and hope she gives you a chance, or two - you move on.”

“How the hell am I supposed to even do that?”

“That… that you'd have to figure out for yourself. But you need to make a choice, the sooner the better, because how you're handling things now isn't healthy. And it's downright painful for me to watch.”

The words Minho used were cold and precise, but the way he spoke them conveyed his care. Of course, it was painful to watch. It was painful because Minho had to stand by and watch Hyunjin suffer, and he hated it. What he hated the most was not being able to really do anything to help. All he could do was speak his peace and hope Hyunjin would follow through. Little did he know exactly how heavily his words carried with the auburn haired man

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

You know, something nobody ever really talks about is how hard it is to name chapters! Jesus, why did I decide to do this to myself? I didn't have to 😭

In any case, I said we'd be seeing more of Hyunjin, and here he is! I hope y'all don't mind the perspective shift. It's going to last into the next chapter, and maybe the following one as well. It all depends on how long i want the next chapter to be, don't wanna ruin the flow of what I have drafted up. I'm really enjoying the Hyunjin/Minho dynamic I have (even though its hard to write) and I'd like to keep those moments together if I can.

Taglist: @groovygroovyhyunjin @hhwangsmoon @luvyblossom @doggezz @kayleefriedchicken @hyunjinhoexxx @zadkielr @bincxtesworld @jisunglyricist @kpop-kink @amarecerasus @its-kitten-now @antisocial-socialbutterfly

#stray kids fanfic #bang chan #han jisung #what once was mine #skz stay #changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #seo changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #lee felix #angst #lee minho #minho

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huskynotwolf · 8 months

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Tongues and Teeth

-song by the Crane Wives

-fanfic by The Crazy Husky

No. 2

(This is a project I made for Crane Wives x Life Series. Scott basically enjoys singing here and plans to do a project to sing every song by the Crane Wives. All lyrics belong to Crane Wives, and I own the fanfic.)

Pearl muttered unhappily as she hefted her guitar up. Scott was also grouching, apparently disagreeing with Grian as well, since he made them sing. He made both of them sing a song about him and Scar.

Scott could also see that Pearl was on the edge of breaking. She hated being forced to do stuff. Grian had overheard them singing, and it was as embarrassing as it sounds. Cleo also told Scar, so Pearl had beaten her up so hard she was sent to infirmary for three days.

Scott began thinking of anything to describe their relationship… the song Tongues and Teeth came to his mind, and he began furiously trying to remember the lyrics.

Recently, he and Pearl had listened to way more Crane Wives songs than they’re supposed to, but at least they’re both completely consent with that, although things get awkward afterwards. He could remember a few more song lyrics than before, so he was confident to hit Grian hard enough so he wouldn’t bother them anymore.

He tugged Pearl’s shoulder and whispered, “Tongues and Teeth. That one.” She thought of it for a moment, then nodded. Giggling, she tuned her guitar and readied, casting a final glance at me. I nodded, then we began.

She immediately began strumming the strings of the guitar, starting the song. He prepared himself for the first lyrics. “I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel, it's all that I can give to you, my dear.” He sung as she slowed down the speed of the music.

“And when you come in quick to steal a kiss, my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear.” Scott gave Pearl a tiny smile while Grian and Scar watched intently with extreme confusion. “And I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent,” Scott nudged Pearl with his shoulder, and she took the singing part while simultaneously playing the guitar. “I will only break your pretty things. I will only wring you dry of everything, but if you're fine with that, you can be mine like that,” She sung.

“~~~” She began playing the guitar with such intensity that he though it would basically just give up and break like Pearl’s first guitar (she smashed it, then smashed Scott’s). Grian looked at Scar, who shrugged back at him. “Dunno,” he muttered.

“Abandon all your stupid dreams About the girl I could have been, my dear. 'Cause in the night I know you burn with feelings I cannot return, my dear, oh, my dear,” she sung, then shot Scott a look to signal him to continue. “You gotta know that this won't last. Desperation will erase the fact I'm keeping all,” he raised his voice slightly.

“Of the answers in my cigarette box. Yeah, the answer's in the second before the other shoe drops. And if you're blind to that, I am fine with that,” As soon as he finished, Pearl launched into another series of intense guitar playing. “~~~”

“I think she means us,” Grian muttered to Scar. Scar glared at him, shocked, then said, “Nah, it’s probably just the song.” Grian slapped him then looked back at the two preforming pair. By then Cleo, Martyn, BigB, Impulse and Ren had came over to watch, but Scott and Pearl continued, ignoring them and focused on their original goal.

“Oh, I will ruin you,” Pearl sung, then passed it to Scott. “Oh, I will ruin you.” He sung without missing a beat. “It's a habit - I can't help it. I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent,” Pearl nodded slightly then they joined each other into the final verses.

“I will only break your pretty things. I will only wring you dry of everything, and if you're fine with that. If you're fine with that,” They sung, with Pearl continuing her part as the guy with the guitar. “I will poison all your happy thoughts,” Pearl’s shoulder muscles suddenly tensed. “I love you like the ashes in my cigarette box, and if you're fine with that,” Pearl gripped the guitar harder. “You can be mine.” She kept playing, though Scott could see her excitement vibrating from her body. “If you're fine with that, you can be mine~”

She then followed up with her amazing guitar skills, playing through the rest of the song like an expert. Scott sung to the tune, then they concluded by Scott whooping the final part and Pearl trailing off with her guitar.

Everyone began clapping, with only Scar and Grian feeling very flustered and was looking away from each other, nervous. As soon as the clapping ended, though, Pearl hefted the wooden guitar and smashed it on Scar’s head. It broke into splinters. “That’s for making me sing in public!” She screeched. Scar scowled back, brushing wood bits off his head.

Scott sighed. He’s gonna have to make an unbreakable guitar for Pearl next time. Either she’s gonna take it out on Scott or someone else is ending up in the infirmary.

#howling stars au #pearlescentmoon #scott smajor #trafficblr #life series #grian #goodtimeswithscar #crane wives #tongues and teeth #Spotify

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aurevell · 10 months

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❄won't mean a thing, dear (if you're not here with me) ❄ Steter | 34k | M

Stiles, who was just about to comment on the blinding glare from the Christmas lights, slowly shuts his mouth. Realization is dawning, and he feels like an idiot not to have seen it coming. “Surprise! Christmas isn’t your thing,” he guesses, resigned. Peter gives him a look like he’s insane to even bring it up. He probably is.

Peter and Stiles’s whole relationship is built on sarcasm and disdain for the world at large. No topic is safe from mockery. (Unfortunately, they may not be on the same page about the holiday season.)

Some days, Stiles is convinced Peter’s only dating him because the guy gets off on pushing buttons. That’s Peter’s main source of amusement. He knows Stiles is never more than a second away from some minor crime at any given moment, and he likes watching Stiles reconsider and bend his already flexible morals. Likes being the one to urge him on.

Some days, Stiles likes to let him.

Some days.

“Yeah, I dunno about this,” Stiles mutters dubiously, peering through the chain-link fence. When he grabs on, squinting for a closer look, the metal is icy against his skin. “It’s kind of a stretch, dude. Even for me.”

“What’s the harm?” Peter inquires, his tone even. Still, Stiles can hear the smirk without looking. “It’s just a peek. Sixty seconds.”

“Psh. Yeah, right. Sixty seconds now, until we actually get in there and look around.”

It’s late, maybe a little past one in the morning, and the two of them have been meandering a slow circuit through the neighborhood around Stiles’s apartment. Which, yeah, is kind of a weird or even suspicious thing to be doing at this hour, depending on who you ask. Dangerous, too, considering the area. But it’s safe enough when one of you is a literal creature of the night and the other knows his way around a curse book.

It’s also kind of a necessity. Late-night walks are sometimes the only thing that helps Stiles nod off when he’s got too many thoughts rattling around in his head. The rhythmic steps, or maybe the familiar neighborhood setting, always calms his nerves somehow. Or else it just burns off his restless energy. Stiles hasn’t psychoanalyzed himself or anything, but it does the trick.

As for Peter’s presence, that’s a semi-recent thing. He used to just pretend to get offended that the sex alone wasn’t enough to tick the right boxes and knock Stiles’s lights out. But it must have gotten boring sitting around indoors and waiting for him to come back, and the guy has never been one for pillow talk anyway, so he’s started tagging along. Plus, he likes fucking with evening joggers who don’t expect to find someone lurking around the corner in the dark. (See? He’s all about the amusement factor.)

Anyway. They’ve paused here by the fence because Stiles has been keeping an eye on this city block for months. Construction has rattled the ground and diverted local traffic forever. Gleaming in its wake is a new building, freshly raised: a mixed-use space, with apartments above and a couple shops at ground level. One of which, the signs promise, is a coffee shop. A coffee shop, and this cannot be emphasized enough, that is only one block away from where Stiles lives. It’s like some beneficent cosmic being decided Stiles Stilinski does deserve nice things, after all. Things like fresh coffee after an all-nighter. Wi-fi when his shitty router kicks out. Maybe even sandwiches and pastries and stuff—he’d sell his soul for decent bear claws within walking distance.

“You did say you wanted to see the inside,” Peter reminds him idly. The building’s been done for weeks, but the fence still blocks half the sidewalk, keeping pedestrians away from the new facade. Even to Stiles’s human nose, the whole area smells pleasantly of sawdust and fresh paint.

“Yeah, but c’mon. I meant when it was finally open. And anyway, can see it fine from here,” Stiles retorts, and it’s kind of true: with the glow of the streetlight behind them, he can make out the gleam of new machinery and the dark shadows of tables and chairs. “Hey. Look, they even have folding windows. For when it’s nice out.”

“Those are nice.” Peter observes. “Easy to break into.”

Stiles tries his best to fight back a grin, because you can’t encourage Peter at times like this. Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. “Ok, babe, just so we’re clear. We are not breaking—”

“—into your new favorite coffee shop, which you haven’t shut up about for more than five minutes at a time in weeks? I’d think twice about passing on the opportunity. Once they’ve set up their security system, it won’t be as easy.” He hums, as if a thought has just occurred to him. “You know, they probably have all kinds of decor in there. For your sign collection.”

There are a bunch of dark shapes spread out on the walls, some kind of decorations. A few large ones that are probably just menus or something, but smaller ones too. Could be signs, could be art. “I don’t have a—it’s not a collection.”

“It’s eleven signs. What’s that you always say? Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern? ‘Eleven’ is probably a collection.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stiles laughs.

The squeal of bending metal cuts through the quiet. Stiles drags his eyes away from the cafe windows to find Peter peeling up the bottom of the chain link fence, all casual, like it weighs no more than a sheet of paper.

Peter smirks. “It’d be a crime not to.”

“Peter,” Stiles replies, amused, “this is a crime. This is a literal crime.”

“I bet they have those deluxe espresso machines you get so hard for.”

Stiles heaves out a long-suffering sigh, taking in those dark shapes through the window, and pretends to still be thinking about it. He briefly glances around, like anyone else is crazy enough to be out in the cold this time of night, like Peter wouldn’t hear anyone within earshot anyway. Peter lifts the chain-link fence a little higher. An invitation. The same way some boyfriends might hold open a door.

“Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath. He ignores Peter’s triumphant smirk as he ducks beneath the fence. “Sixty seconds.”

A week and a half later, Cuppa Life Cafe opens to very little fanfare. It’s just a tiny cafe on a tiny street in a tiny town—who cares? But to Stiles, it’s revolutionary.

It’s a shiny new distraction to break up his days. When he’s doing research for his magical consulting clients, when he’s combing through digitized bestiaries for Scott, when he’s delving into police files he one hundred percent did not swipe from his dad, he’s got somewhere to go. No more is he confined to slogging away within the four walls of his cramped and arguably dim apartment (he likes the vibe of his scattered ritual candles, but they don’t always do the trick for him, focus-wise). When he needs a change of pace, he can head downstairs for a three-minute walk to sugar and caffeination and sunlight.

And then there’s Peter, who’s trekked here four times already for dark roast coffees he continually claims are beneath him. Either he’s full of it, or he knows Stiles is more likely to peel away from his work if Peter’s within easy walking distance as well.

Presently, Stiles’s phone chimes with a text from a contact listed as Big Bad Creeperwolf, a label he hasn’t changed since their first meeting. (Anyway, it’s still accurate.) When Stiles checks his messages, there’s a snapshot of the Cuppa Life menu and a text that just reads, Unfortunate.

Stiles stares, squinting and wondering what Peter’s point is, but he can’t work it out. He could text back, or he could grab his current working bestiary from the bed and go around the corner to figure it out.

The place really is cute. They’re clearly going for that modern chic look, with chalkboard menus, lighted glass cases full of Instagram-ready pastries, and graphic art peppered across warm, red-bricked walls. At a glance, you wouldn’t know anything’s missing at all. Stiles only feels a little guilty about nicking his latest sign, inasmuch as he ever feels guilty about nicking anything (and then, you know, returning to the scene of the crime afterward). Look, the display was probably a free one the coffee brand shipped to the cafe as an ad. And Stiles is a regular customer now, and he always tips well, so it’ll probably even out in the end.

Peter’s snagged a table toward the front, right where the late fall sunlight streams in. It’s just barely warm enough that all the windows are folded to the side—they really are a nice touch, even if Peter’s right that they’re easy to sneak through—and when he spots Stiles walking past outside, he glances up with a knowing smirk. Because of course Stiles was going to jump up to visit. Annoying, Stiles thinks, how that one look sends a coil of pleasure into his stomach every time.

“That wasn’t an invitation to drop by,” Peter drawls, typing into his laptop, when Stiles appears at his table.

“Then you shouldn’t have announced your location, babe,” Stiles counters, dumping his book. The pet name slips off his tongue without thought again: he started using it ironically a few weeks back, almost taunting, just to dig at Peter for his condescending little “sweethearts” all the time, and now…

Peter smirks at the face he’s making. “Can’t stop it, can you? Cute.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says without bite. He sinks into the opposite chair, his attention catching on the little cardboard table menu. It’s done up in red, with glittering holly leaves, to cheerily advertise the seasonal specials. “About time! Peppermint hot chocolate?”

“Didn’t you see my text? We’ve gone from pumpkin spice to peppermint season,” Peter informs him, voice dripping with disdain. “It’s all Laura’s been complaining about for days.”

“Is that why you sent it?” Stiles asks distractedly, flipping the menu to check the drinks on the back. “And—wait, what are you even talking about? Peppermint’s the best.”

It’s all the good stuff, he finds: butterscotch caramel coffees, peppermint mochas, gingerbread spice cold brews, s’mores lattes. Man, this place does not disappoint. Stiles must have accidentally done a good deed to deserve it, but hell if he knows what it was.

It’s not until he lowers the menu that he sees Peter’s dismay. Too late, he picks up on the haughty tone, which is Peter’s default whenever they parry insults or dogpile on something they mutually believe to be garbage.

“Is that a joke?” Peter demands. “Peppermint is nature’s mildest poison. Who wants to eat something whose primary flavor is ‘cold?’ The whole place reeks of it now—even you should be able to smell it with that chunk of marble you call a nose. We’re going to have to avoid every cafe in town for the next two months.”

Stiles shakes his head, amused. “Every now and then, I feel really grateful I don’t have all your wolf stuff going on. There are definite downsides to super sniffers. But you’re right about pumpkin spice, I guess—that stuff’s a travesty. RIP to Laura and all the pumpkin spice girls probably crying into their scarves as we speak.”

“You’re a witch, and fall's barely over. Are you even allowed to voice a dislike of pumpkin spice?”

“I’m a spark and you know this. And yeah, I guess they’ll probably revoke my card,” Stiles jokes.

With his stuff now scattered across the table, he heads off to the counter, deliberating over his drink choices. He ends up going with the peppermint mocha, partly because he does, in fact, really love peppermint and needs to carpe diem the fuck out of it while it’s still in season, and partly because he knows it’ll annoy Peter.

Once he grabs his order and gets back to his seat, he takes his first taste while making pointed eye contact with the werewolf. Unfortunately, Peter’s crinkled nose just makes Stiles snort into the drink, and he ends up choking on a puff of whipped cream for his trouble.

“Lovely that I’m only learning now that you enjoy drinking toothpaste,” Peter snarks. He looks almost disgusted, but he’s still wearing the delighted smirk that means he’s back in his element. “What other dealbreakers don’t I know about you?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Stiles coughs, still laughing a little. “Out of all the shit I’ve done, peppermint’s the dealbreaker?”

“I already know about the live theater thing. The—musicals.”

“What, that I’ve witnessed some without fleeing the theater?” Stiles asks, covering his grin with a sip of his drink. It really is good, with just enough peppermint to boost the chocolatey taste of the mocha without being overpowering. “I stand by Heathers, my dude. J.D. is hot. I won’t apologize for that.”

“Sickening. What else do I need to know? Do you put motivational quotes in your email signature? Do you unironically follow astrology? If you’re a secret cryptobro, you’d better tell me before this goes any further.”

Stiles snickers into his drink. “No to all of the above. But if either of us was gonna turn into some condescending asshole trying to peddle something skeevy, it’d probably be you.”

“Excuse you.”

“Speaking of dealbreakers. Met this cute guy earlier today.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Did you now.”

“You’d better watch out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Fat. Tan.”

“Tabby?”

“Maybe, but the fur was pretty long. I took pictures. Wanna see?”

He’s grinning: it’s a bluff, of course, and they both know it. Peter just grunts. There are few things the werewolf finds more boring than pictures of small animals. He’s insane that way. Like he would honestly rather pry his own eyes out than witness a cute cat displaying its belly for scratches. Stiles doesn’t even know what to do with him sometimes.

“Keep your beaus to yourself,” Peter replies, returning to his book.

“Your loss.” Stiles pulls his laptop to him, booting it up. “By the way, did I tell you Pudding’s rash is gone? Saw her this morning.”

“If I have to hear another word about cats,” Peter sighs, “and especially a cat’s skin condition, I’ll swear to god I’ll find a way to get you banned from this cafe.”

Stiles mimes zipping his lips and gets back to work, though Peter looks at him with distrust for a full minute before he resumes reading. But while Stiles does sometimes get a perverse sense of enjoyment from Peter’s poor attempts to feign interest in his interests, he’s got shit to do today. Peter’s off the hook. For now.

Harassment has always been one of Stiles’s love languages. At least when it comes to Peter.

The feeling is clearly mutual, though. And Stiles knows Peter well enough to tell he isn’t the type of guy who’d stick around if he were actually offended.

They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, the first formal introduction of their respective packs. Back then, they were all circling each other warily, a prospective alliance built on contract negotiations and polite adherence to ceremony.

Everyone except for Peter. Peter was an immensely egotistical shit the entire time—not that he did or said anything outright insulting, anything to make the McCall pack cut their losses and back out, just things that were right on the cusp. Snarky insinuations. Snubs. He clearly thought them an insignificant pack of amateur shifters, and bitten wolves at that, a term he used with this pitying tone that suggested he wanted to turn up his nose but wouldn’t for propriety’s sake. It rubbed Scott and Isaac the wrong way right off the bat, and even Kira got sour about it. And Kira believes in peace and forgiveness and pixie dust for literally everyone.

Maybe Stiles only found it so funny because he knew how wildly wrong Peter was about them. The McCall pack, after all, is a bad enemy to underestimate and a good ally to have in your back pocket.

And then, somewhere amidst the getting-to-know-yous and the haughty diplomacy, it became clear that sure, Peter may have been sneering and abrasive, but he backed a lot of the same things Stiles championed: an aggressive defense, strong tendencies toward revenge where appropriate, doling out the harshest possible punishments against offending packs. His mean streak, in fact, aligned very neatly with Stiles’s.

For half the alliance negotiations, Stiles found himself arguing beside Peter, who looked delighted at the unexpected support, especially when it was just the two of them against ultra-forgiving alphas who indulged their reasoning but came down firmly on the side of living and letting go and other bullshit.

“Fine,” Peter had said when it was all done. All pleasant and smirking, of course, because he’s always refused to show weakness after a loss. “Well, I’m sure none of us will ever regret this.”

Talia just rolled her eyes with the exasperation of someone who’d borne this kind of barbed statement all her life. And Peter turned and gave Stiles this meaningful look, the first of many designed to invite his judgment as well, as if to say Can you believe this? You and I are the only ones who truly understand.

Stiles was a little bit in love. Even then.

After they all dispersed for friendlier conversation, Stiles sidled up to him, phone held out imperiously. “Give me your number.” At Peter’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Don’t tell me you don’t want the backup. My alpha wasn’t the only one who said the words ‘minor territory breach’ like it’s not an oxymoron.”

It was hard to disagree. And Stiles wasn’t misreading the exasperation: by the time Peter finished entering his contact info, the werewolf had already begun to complain of all the extra work he often put in just for his own peace of mind given Talia’s relaxed policies. There were no known hunters or magical threats in the area—a feat only accomplished because of strict border enforcement, thanks very much—and the Hales were diligent about maintaining alliances with several nearby packs. But you never really knew. The Hale library, Peter added, was brimming with insights on defenses and known threats for that very reason.

Stiles perked up at the magic word. “A private library, huh? So…we’re officially allies now, right? When do I see it?”

Peter’s grin turned sly.

The attraction was clear as day. Even Stiles could read it, and most people’s flirtations went right over his head. Regardless, both of them were reluctant to make a move right away, both of them aware how disastrous the fallout could get for their respective packs if things went south between them. Or at least Stiles was aware of it, and Peter—perennial schemer that he is—must have at least considered it.

But maybe it was inevitable.

On a totally normal day, Stiles showed up uninvited at Peter’s, just to annoy him into loaning out a bestiary, and then they were just—on top of each other. It was the first and only time Stiles understood what people meant when they said they had sex by accident, a phrase he used to think was a stupid excuse people used for not bothering to control their own impulses, but holy shit, it was like someone just flipped a switch: one second they were staring, and the next second Peter’s tongue was down Stiles’s throat and Stiles was so fucking turned on that he was trying to climb him like a tree about it. He could not stop, could not stop for anything, like the only way out was forward, and forward meant tasting every inch of Peter’s skin.

The sex was amazing. Stiles was fucking wrecked. And of course when they came down, they said they should probably not do it again, absolutely never, because of pack reasons. And that they probably should not even mention it to anyone.

But those turned out to be more impulses they couldn’t rein in.

They became a thing. Somehow.

God knows they still rub each other the wrong way: Stiles is and always will be an annoying little shit, and Peter keeps making condescending offers to help broaden the tiny McCall pack—the implication being, again, that they aren’t perfectly fine as they are.

But somewhere along the way, Stiles has realized that all Peter’s stupid negging and random hints about his current location might be construed—if you looked at them through your dealing-with-a-manipulative-prick lens—as indirect attempts to coax Stiles into spending time with him. They’re the efforts of someone who has never bothered to invite anyone anywhere, and isn’t any good at it, and doesn’t even know how to do it without trying to manipulate the person in question into wanting it.

And now? Well. Peter’s never been one for grand, romantic gestures—he’s allergic—but it’s turned out okay. Do they have a relationship the average onlooker would describe as “normal” or “tender” or even “level-headed”? Hell no. But Stiles feels more comfortable with Peter than he does with just about anyone, and it’s clear Peter feels the same, and that’s enough.

Even now, the silence stretching between them is warm and companionable, with Stiles’s books and notes covering more than his fair share of the little table, and one of Peter’s legs stretched out beneath it to lean against Stiles’s, and the occasional question swapped between them to punctuate the calm.

A while later, after Stiles finishes the peppermint mocha and finds his limbs stiff, he stretches and returns to the front counter. When he comes back, he’s got a plain black coffee to replace Peter’s empty cup and, because he sometimes decides to be a just and merciful boyfriend, one of the gingerbread cold brews for himself instead of the peppermint.

That’s the kind of thing you end up doing when you get a little too invested. Not that Stiles would say it aloud.

Read the rest on AO3

#steter #steter fic #warning in advance that i will be having a little too much fun with this one #this is probably where i will be outing myself as a Christmas Freak #mine

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