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dyaz-stories · 5 months

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JUJUTSU BOYS + PDA

how the jjk boys are when you're in public with them

including: gojo, nanami, choso, yuuji, megumi, maki

word count: 3.6k (500-600 words for one character)

cw: intended as canon compliant, established relationships, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, public demonstrations of affection, can't think of anything else tbh

a/n: been reading some fics in this format so wanted to try my hand at it again. it's been years since I wrote short pieces like that, so I hope you'll enjoy them!

GOJO

Gojo has no concept of personal space, and that is something you had to get used to since you started dating — if anything, since before you started dating. Even when the two of you were at a more flirtatious stage, he’d always be leaning towards you to talk to you, face inches away from yours, hands on your hips if he needed to move past you, arm casually around you if you were sitting next to each other. It was all the better if it flustered you.

None of this has changed, except that he’s much more extra about it now. Holding your hand while walking? Nah, that’s boring. He’ll have his arm around your shoulders, even if it’s not convenient given the height difference. He’ll also try to put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, pout if you tell him not to do it. If you’re waiting in line with him, he has both of his arms around you, is resting his chin on top of your head, and wants nothing more than for you to lean back into his chest, relaxing into his embrace. You can both be doing totally unrelated things — you’re reading and he’s checking his phone — but you’re slotted against each other, and that’s how it is ideally for you.

You’re waiting for him to show up to your date when you feel yourself surrounded by familiar arms, and then his cheek is pressing against yours as he surveys the book you’re holding in your hands.

“Whatch’ya reading?” he asks, breath warm against your cheek.

“Just doing some research on emerging curses,” you say with a shrug as you close it and put it in your bag. “So, did you want to check out that new bakery?”

He hums in reply, and you wait for him to move so you can start walking.

He doesn’t.

“…do you plan on letting go of me?” you ask after a while, turning your head to look at him.

He pouts at you, inches away from your face.

“I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet…”

“We’re in public, Satoru,” you say, feeling your face heating up.

“So? Let ‘em stare. They might as well, if you ask me.”

You want to roll your eyes — one day, you’ll have to talk about that exhibitionist streak of his — but in the meantime, you just have to crane your neck a little to peck his lips. They’re soft, as always, and he follows greedily when you pull away, his hand coming up to tilt your chin up gently as he presses more kisses on the corner of your lips, then on your cheek.

“You’re impossible,” you say, badly hiding your laughter. “Let’s go, or we won’t make it to closing time. You’re late, by the way.”

He lets out a heartbroken sigh, but finally frees you, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you start walking towards the bakery. He keeps his strides short, so you don’t have to run to keep up with him, instead allowing you to keep a comfortable pace.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m just too good at my job, they can never get enough of me.”

“Aw, poor darling,” you say. You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and bring it to your lips to press a kiss on the back.

He lets out a cough that doesn’t do much to disguise the fact that he’s getting flustered, and you grin, satisfied. Two can play that game.

Fortunately, neither Satoru nor you have any intention of forfeiting any time soon.

NANAMI

Nanami is a private man. There is no reason for the whole world to know his business, and he doesn’t feel the need to put his relationship on display for everyone to see. His softness for you is still plain to see in how gentle his voice gets when he speaks to you, in how carefully he chooses his words, in how fond his eyes are when he listens to you tell him about your day. He knows you like him holding your hand, though, so he’ll indulge you, especially when you’re walking by his side through crowded streets.

That is for practical reasons, of course. First, it just wouldn’t do to lose sight of you. Second, people tend to steer clear of him, his serious expression and his broad frame, and that means they realize quickly to steer clear of you. It has nothing to do with how soft your hand is in his, or how the way you use your thumb to stroke his skin sends shivers down his back.

“That’s a lovely restaurant,” you comment, eyes drinking in the elegant decor while Nanami is examining the menu.

“It had excellent reviews,” he answers, not going into details as to the great lengths he’d gone to in order to ensure that this date was as perfect as humanly possible.

“I’ve been in the neighborhood so many times, and I had no idea this was here,” you say. The place is very small, only a handful of tables, all of them now filled. You’re sharing an alcove with Nanami, creating some distance with other customers.

“There aren’t many tables available, so they don’t advertise much,” he explains as he sets the menu down. “But they’re known for their excellent cuisine.”

You give him a smile, then lean closer to him to kiss him on the cheek. Your lips linger just a little too long, and then you move them close to his ear, which is already turning quite red.

“Thank you for planning all that,” you say sweetly. “It looks wonderful.”

He clears his throat when you pull away, avoiding your eyes.

“Of course,” he answers, voice wavering imperceptibly. “Anything for you.”

And you know he means it, too.

Under the table, his hand finds your leg, large palm easily covering your knee while calloused fingers carefully rub your calf. You bite your lip, welcome the warmth that spreads in your body. You know Kento well enough to be sure that that’s as far as he’ll go, that he wouldn’t dare to do anything more in such a public setting, and that makes you enjoy the intimacy of the gesture all the more.

Later that night, while the two of you are walking out, his jacket is around your shoulder at his insistence — “It’s cold outside” — and he’s getting ready to call a taxi.

“Kento?”

He lowers the phone to look at you, and you push yourself on your tiptoe, hand closing around his tie to pull him down towards you.

It’s late at night, he tells himself. There’s no one around, he tells himself. That’s why he closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the kiss, regretting it when you pull away too soon and catching himself before he grabs you by the hips to get you closer to him.

“I had a great evening,” you say. “Should we take this to somewhere more private?”

How much more merciless can you get?

“Certainly,” he says. “Just give me a second.”

There is nothing he can deny you.

CHOSO

Choso cannot wrap his head around what he can and cannot do around you. The rules for what is proper, what is acceptable, have shifted so much since he was last around, and he would die before he embarrassed you — or worse, before he did something that would make you push him away. He knows that you wouldn’t, and yet the fear is like a weight that tugs on his heart every time he thinks about it. He walks by your side, glancing at your hand that’s freely hanging between the two of you, and though he brushes his knuckles against yours, he just cannot bring himself to do it. It’s to the point where it’s the only thing he’s thinking about — and he just can’t do it.

Then you see something that catches your eye and you grab his hand and pull him with you in that direction, and he thinks his heart could just fall out of his chest. You make it look so easy, so natural, being with him coming as easy to you as breathing, and he couldn’t possibly ask for more. It takes him many other tries, many other dates, before he can take your hand in his. When he does, you glance down in surprise, then grin at him, and kiss his knuckles softly — and he’s so happy he could die.

“So,” you say, sitting on the park bench, knee pressed against his while you’re leaning into him to show him your phone, your hair tickling his neck, “that’s the movies they have on tonight. Think we should call Yuuji to ask him what to watch?”

“Hm,” Choso says, not really focusing on anything you’re talking about, not when you’re this close to him, “isn’t— isn’t that the one franchise he’s always talking about?”

You burst out laughing, then rest your head on his shoulder.

“No offense, babe, but there is no one in the world I’d go see a Human Earthworm movie for. Even if this one is supposed to have romance in it,” you shudder at the thought, “I’d like to go see something actually. You know. Watchable.”

Choso’s mind is going in overdrive. You’re so close, and he knows he should have gotten used to this by now. He isn’t usually like this, but some passers-by are looking — not necessarily being judgmental, though there was an old lady earlier who scoffed and shook her head, but… looking.

“Then I don’t know if Yuuji is going to be much help,” he manages to say as you keep scrolling on the cinema’s website.

“That’s fair,” you sigh, standing up from the bench, and even if he can now think again, he misses your warmth and your smell right away. “Well, maybe we drop the movie and just go get something to eat, what do you say?

“Sounds good,” he answers, standing up after you.

Hesitantly, almost clumsily, he reaches for your hand, fingertips brushing against your thigh as he does, then tightens his grip around your palm, ensuring that it wouldn’t slip away from you. You give him a fond smile, then take a step to get closer to him, and kiss him gently. His breath hitches, and his eyes dart around the mostly empty park.

“T-there’s people around,” he says quietly, and he hates that you step back to look around.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

He takes your hand to pull you with him, and you follow him through the grass as he finds a more secluded spot, behind a tree.

“There,” he says, and you chuckle at how satisfied with himself he sounds.

“Oh Choso,” you coo, leaning against the tree while you grab his shirt to pull him down towards you. His mouth is warm, eager, and his cheeks remain a fierce shade of red as he kisses you back insistently.

You would have missed the beginning of the movie anyway.

YUUJI

The thing about Yuuji is that any type of public demonstration of affection feels so natural coming from him. It’s almost never meant to be suggestive, it’s not something he thinks through, it’s just something he does. You’ll be sitting with Nobara when he appears, and he just puts his arm around you while talking to her, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You’re walking with him when he lifts his head up like he’s forgotten something, and what he forgot was to hold your hand, silly him.

If you walk by him while he’s sitting, he’ll grab your hips to pull you in his laps, fingers rubbing circles on the skin of your arms, absent-mindedly playing with your fingers as he holds your hand. After all, why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t even realize that it flusters you, and it just feels so natural for him to show his affection like that. He’ll look at you with stars in his eyes while you speak, not seeming to realize that his face is so close to him while you’re sitting in his lap.

No one pays attention to it anymore. You arrive just as Nobara is starting the movie — she’s putting on an action movie, thank you very much, even if Gojo just bought the collector edition of Human Earthworm 4 for Yuuji, with the director’s cut — and with all the students crammed in the room, including Panda, who’s taking most of the space on the couch, there’s nowhere left for you to sit.

“Come here,” Yuuji says cheerfully, waving you towards the armchair where he’s found his spot, “it’s about to start.”

You glance around the room for a reaction, but no one is paying you any mind. You walk over to him, perching yourself on one of the arms, legs over his. He doesn’t seem puzzled by it, just puts an arm around your waist casually.

Of course, you end up still sitting in his lap eventually, just slipping in it at some point in the movie. Can you be blamed? He’s warm and comfortable, and he wraps both arms around you so he can tuck his chin in the crook of your shoulder, nose brushing against your cheek when he turns his head. Not that he seems to notice how it makes your pulse quickens, eyes focused on the movie.

“What are the themes even supposed to be,” he mutters under his breath, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance.

“’Military good’?” you suggest quietly as a guy gets blown up on screen.

“The first half of the movie was about military bad,” he protests. “They can’t just act like that never existed.”

“Would you two shut up,” Nobara shouts from her spot, “or Maki will come beat you up!”

The two of you pipe down, knowing the threat is very serious and not one to take lightly.

When the movie ends, everyone gets up, stretching, but you’ve gotten comfortable against Yuuji’s chest, and you don’t feel like doing that just yet.

“That was terrible,” Yuuji comments, and you let out a brief laugh. Gojo has somehow made a cinephile out of him, and you love how worked up he gets over that stuff.

“Yeah, we should have been watching Human Earthworm 4 instead,” you say.

“Exact— oh, you’re making fun of him.”

You giggle, then tilt your head to kiss him. For a second, he freezes, eyes going wide. Kissing is the one thing he rarely initiates — but when you do, you get to see his gaze soften, before his whole body goes soft. His hold on your waist tightens — and then a pillow thrown with impressive precision hits him, and only him, on the ear.

“Not in public,” Maki shouts from all the way into the kitchen.

“Hey,” your boyfriend protests, “I’m not the one who—”

“You’re such a traitor,” you gasp, struggling to pull yourself free from his arms — but it’s no use against his strength, and he refuses to let go.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Now, where were we?”

You might have been at fault for the first pillow, but that second one is all on him, as far as you’re concerned.

MEGUMI

Megumi is a private guy. He can be affectionate in public, but there is a side of him that he only wants you to see. He especially doesn’t want any of your nosy friends, or worse, his adoptive dad to see how he can be around you. They would never stop teasing him after, and he doesn’t think he could live with that.

Or that they could live with that. Because he’d kill them.

It does annoy him that he’s supposed to deny himself because of them. If it was up to him, he’d spend most of his time alone with you, preferably in a small house in the middle of a forest with no one around, no curses, no sorcerers, no nothing. That, sadly, isn’t an option though, so he has to find his own way to do things.

“Don’t move,” he says sternly. “You have something on your face.”

You roll your eyes, but tilt your head up towards him, as he carefully runs his thumb under your eye, then over your cheek, blowing on it once it’s done.

“What was it?” you ask.

“Just an eyelash,” he says with a shrug. “You’re good now.”

You study him, waiting for him to give something away, but he doesn’t, just staring at you with the same expression he always wears.

“Should we get going?” he asks. “I thought we were supposed to catch a movie.”

“Sure,” you relent. “We should get moving.”

The streets are quite full at this time of the day, and you have to step aside frequently to let people pass, sometimes losing sight of Megumi. Eventually, with a sigh, he grabs your hand, pulling you with him as he walks, sending murderous glares to anyone who stays in his path.

“You’re going to get lost at this rate,” he mutters as he pulls you with him.

“I mean, worst case scenario we meet back at the theater,” you say, and you grin at the offended look he gives you. He notices it, but doesn’t answer, a light pink dusting his cheek as he glances away.

He hates the idea of being away from you on a day that’s supposed to be about the two of you — but since he refuses to say the quiet part out loud, you get to tease him all you want.

To be fair to him, having Megumi as your scary guard dog does make it much easier and much faster to reach the theater. He gives you a pointed look when you get there, and, to your regret, lets go of your hand quickly, though his touch lingers there a second longer than necessary.

“Should we get a couple seat?” you ask innocently as you approach the register.

Megumi glares at you once more while you give him a sweet smile.

“It’s better that way, right?” he says, clearing his throat. “Otherwise strangers might have to share one.”

“Sure,” you nod, not even bothering to hide your grin. “It’s just more practical, right?”

“Right,” he says stiffly.

Even once you are in the couple seat, he keeps a thoroughly appropriate distance from you, one that you might find a little hurtful if, at the end of the commercials, he didn’t fake a yawn to put his arm around you, in the least smooth way known to man.

“You know you can just do it,” you say quietly as the lights turn off, resting your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go through all that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.

Reaching for his face, you tilt his head towards you, and push yourself to meet his lips for a sweet, soft kiss. For the first time since you’ve stepped foot outside, his whole body relaxes into yours, and he stops trying to pretend.

“You had something on your lips,” you whisper when you pull away.

He snorts, then quickly goes back in to steal one more kiss from you before the movie starts.

“Liar,” he says.

As if he’s one to talk.

MAKI

Maki isn’t a demonstrative person as a general rule. She does compliment you without hesitation, words falling from her mouth so genuinely that it never fails to fluster you, but physical demonstrations of affection don’t come easy to her, maybe because she received so little of it as a kid. She does it sporadically, and she does very much enjoy teasing you, loves knowing that she can get those reactions out of you.

It’s the more spontaneous gestures that get to you though. She’ll kiss your forehead after a battle that left you bruised, a way of comforting you. She’ll pat your head after you managed to pull an impressive move during training. On one occasion, when you got injured, she carried you in your arms to Shoko, demanding that you be taken care of right this instant. She’d been the one to get flustered after that, hiding her face in her hand in embarrassment when it was brought up later on.

It might not come easy to her, but she does love it when you do it — when you show her your love in that way.

“You’re late,” she scolds you when you reach her for one of your dates, needing to take a second to catch your breath because you’ve been running since getting out of the subway.

“Sorry,” you say between deep breaths, “there was an emergency.”

Worry flashes on her face immediately.

“A curse? Were you hurt?”

She reaches for you, tilting your face towards her as she examines it, then study your body to make sure you weren’t injured. You let her, surprised at first, then endeared.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she frowns once she realizes how soft your gaze has become.

You grin, then push yourself closer to kiss her. You don’t care that you’re in public, and though it wouldn’t have occurred to her to do it, neither does she. The kiss is sweet, gentle. I’m alive, you’re alive, it says. No need for more.

“See?” you ask cheerfully. “All good. Now, I’m pretty sure you were going to buy me dinner…”

She clicks her tongue, but she’s grinning. It’s nice to see her so at ease, so relaxed. It’s a side of her you’d never see within the walls of Jujutsu High, nor on a mission. You’re the only one that can bring it out of her, and man do you love it.

“I’m buying? Again?”

“I did almost just die.”

“Nice try, but you told me you were fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you insist, “but…”

“Well, I was disowned by my family, so I don’t have money. You’re buying.”

The two of you keep bickering, but, as you walk, you reach for her hand. She pulls away at first, years and years of reflexes kicking in instinctively, and once she realizes what you were doing, she’s the one who takes your hand in hers. She holds it delicately, careful not to break it — to be fair, her strength would probably allow her that.

It’s so sweet and light, being out there with you like that. So normal. She hopes it never ends.

You squeeze her hand, and she lets you guide her across the street, content with just following, knowing that she can trust you to fill in her shortcomings in the relationship, like she does it for yours.

The sky is grey, the forecast said it might run later tonight — Maki’s planned an umbrella, she’s sure you didn’t think of it — but as far as she’s concerned, the day is as beautiful as it could possibly be.

this is my first time writing for... pretty much everyone here except gojo lol. i hope you enjoyed it and that the characterization wasn't too off, but any feedback is welcome! if you want to support me and my writing, please reblog/leave a comment or send me an ask, i'd love to chat! i'll see you later for some more jjk writing ^-^

you can find my gojo x reader work here

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prettyflyforawhitelie · 7 months

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Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff)

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcasts their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower…

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better.

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises.

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep.

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges.

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you.

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you.

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible.

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel.

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams.

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment.

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it.

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him.

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you.

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick.

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

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soulofapatrick · 8 months

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Wheels up in thirty - Aaron Hotchner x Female reader

Summary: You and Hotch finally get physical and its so much better than you had ever thought it could be

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: smut; p in v; somewhat rough; dom/sub; kinda porn with no plot; plot if you squint

Notes: I need to be stopped, Hotch needs more fiction

Y/N's POV

I’m not sure how I ended up here again, straddling Hotch’s waist in just my panties and him in just his boxers. His hands are gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises as he guides me along the length of his clothes crotch. The tip has escaped his waistband, red and angry and dripping precum that I want to lick up but I can’t move.

“H-Hotch.” I choke out in frustration when his phone starts ringing, mine buzzing across the room in my to go bag that was thrown haphazardly across the room somewhere.

He surprises me by ignoring it, instead choosing to make me rise to my knees to he can shimmy out of those black boxers, dick springing up and I think I almost come right then and there at the sheer size and girth of him. His left hand goes back to my hips, slotting in the dip as if my body was made just for him. His right pushes my panties aside so grip the base of his girth, lining myself up before slowly beginning to sink down. The stretch burns but it’s oh so beautiful, this being the first time we’ve gotten this far.

I still remember Hotch admitting his feelings for me one night after a particularly stressful case, both of us sat in his office on the sofa. Everyone else had gone home but I had nothing to go home to so I sat there with Hotch, the heat of his skin searing as he turned and kissed me.

“Hotchner.” My head flies down to see Hotch has finally answered his phone, his hand on my hip not haltering its gentle push and pull. It has my jaw falling open at the pure scandal of what Hotch is currently doing when he says, “JJ, we’ll be there as soon as.” He swallows hard when he realises he said ‘we’ “Yes. Alright see you soon.”

His head falls back into the pillow when I rock my hips gently, hanging up and throwing his phone in the top drawer of his bedside table, cognac eyes fluttering open to meet mine, darkening so much they’re almost black. He sounds so wrecked already, a light sheen of sweat over his skin, his dark hair pressed against his forehead and the sight of him alone has me rocking my hips even more slowly, grinding into him.

A surprised sound leaves my throat when one of his hands tangles in my hair ad tugs as he’s suddenly flipping us over. My nails are digging into his biceps until he moves one hand between us to rub circles into my clit to distract me from the new angle that has him buried to the hilt. I swear I can feel every bump and ridge of him against my fluttering walls as I find his now damp messy hair and tugging almost harshly but he just moans, loud and dirty, “C-Can I?” He sounds like he’s choking, trying to keep his hips as still as he can as to give me time to adjust to the new angle.

I don’t reply, just wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back and he gets the hint. He pulls out until just the tip is in before slamming back to the hilt, dragging such loud moans from both of us, his lips move down my chest until they’re enclosing around one of my nipples, one hand finding my hand and intertwining our fingers while the other hand digs into my hips to stop me shifting up the bed as he sets an almost brutal pace. It adds to the almost overwhelming pleasure and I don’t think I’m going to last long with how I’m already clamping around him and my thighs are shaking and Hotch can tell as there’s a smile etches into my skin as he moves his lips back to the soft spot just below my jaw.

“Come for me princess.” His thumb rubs along my bottom lip and I’m sucking it into my mouth, tasting the saltiness on it and without warning my back is arching, yanking him into a bruising kiss as my body writhes and tries to move away from him as he continues to pound me into the bed, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, “That’s it darling, I’ve got you.” Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as I come down from my high almost too quickly, body trying to wriggle away from him but his hands are flying to hold me in place as he continues to whisper lovingly into my skin, “One more princess, just one more.”

“Aaron,” I choke out, “P-phone-“ His phone is buzzing frantically in the bed side table but he ignores it so I do too, wanting everything Hotch has to offer me. My nails are raking down his back as another builds so quickly, my legs trembling and he’s picking up the pace, hips slamming into mine hard enough to bruise but it just adds to my heightened overstimulation. His every touch is like fire against my skin and his kisses are messy with lips crushing and teeth clashing but it’s perfect. I get lost in the heat of his body flush against mine, the smell of arousal and sweat heavy in the air and the salty taste as I reciprocate the hickeys all over his neck to try and stave off my second orgasm knowing I’m not going to last, knowing I’ll have to worry about the hickeys covering both of us later.

Apparently it’s too much for Hotch as his hand that was holding my hand moves to lightly grip my throat, his breath hot against my shoulder as his thrusts get sloppy. He’s hitting that spongy spot every time and suddenly, without warning his hips are slamming into mine once more and I can feel him shoot thick rope after thick rope against my walls, filling me up. The feeling mixed with the pressure on my neck has my vision whiting out and I think I can hear myself almost screaming Hotch’s name as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me and I think I pass out fro a moment or two.

My eyes are fluttering open to Hotch stroking my hair, “There you are sweet girl,” he’s cooing, lips pressing sweet and gentle kisses to my skin, “I’ve got you, come back to me princess.” He’s gentle with every movement as he slowly pulls out, both of us wincing a little and I try to raise myself to my elbows but they give way almost immediately and he feels it as he’s chuckling, “Stay right there, let me grab our clothes. You can rest in the car.”

Oh god, the case. I must look just as much of a mess as Aaron looks as he climbs off the bed. I can feel his seed leaking down my thighs and staining the sheets but I’m too spend and sated to care, groaning weakly when Hotch's hands are back on me, the fabric of a damp cloth wiping away as much of the mess as he can before his hands are guiding my legs into my panties and jeans. He’s then pulling me to my feet. Bad move as my legs are shaking so much they give way and he’s catching me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buttons my jeans up with one hand. A sweet kiss is pressed to my neck as he sits me back onto the bed, in the spot that isn’t soiled before he’s fumbling around the room again then my bra is being put in place and clasped with ease.

“I’m so proud of you princess.” Hotch praises, a soft sound leaving him when my thighs clench together involuntarily at the praise despite my body not being able to take another orgasm, wanting to snuggle into his strong and safe arms and sleep. But his famous Hotch jumper is being pulled over my head and I’m weakly pulling my arms through the sleeves as he cleans himself up and gets into a fresh pair of boxers and suit trousers.

My jaw drops when take a proper look at Hotch as he reaches into his bedside table to answer his phone that is buzzing again. He’s standing there, phone to ear, listening to who I’m guessing is Emily telling him off for not answering their frantic calls. I currently don’t care, unable to take my eyes off the hickeys of varying sizes and colours all over his neck and chest and the raised and raw scratch marks going down his back, some of them speckled with blood. It’s a mixture of embarrassment and pride that fills me, knowing that we’ve left physical marks on each other.

“Yes Emily, I have Y/N. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. We’ll meet you at the jet.” With that Hotch hangs up, cognac eyes landing on me again and darkening slightly as he takes me in, my legs still shaking a little before he has to shake his head and find a suit shirt and jacket.

We make it to the runway with three minutes to spare and the hickeys and marks still very visible as it was cover them and miss the jet or make it and ignore everyone’s comments.

As we step into the cabin, the atmosphere shifts. Eyes dart towards me and Hotch, lingering on the conspicuous mark adorning both our necks and the fact I’m wearing Hotch’s jumper. Whispers flutter through the air like wayward butterflies, tinged with curiosity and amusement, as the team members look at the scene before them.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he exchanges knowing glances at Emily who sighs and hands him some money as JJ attempts to stifle a giggle behind her hand across from them. Garcia, ever the theatrical, widens her eyes in exaggerated shock, her hand flying to her mouth in an ever so theatrical gesture of astonishment.

Rossi, ever the observant one, arches one eyebrow in amusement, his lips quirking into a sly smile as he takes in the sight of us. His gaze holding a mixture of amusement and approval, silently acknowledging the feelings finally accepted between me and Hotch even if it was done in a very unprofessional way.

The comments come in a flurry, a blend of teasing remarks and playful backer, laced with the underlying affection shared among the members of the team. Despite the teasing, there is an unmistakable sense of camaraderie, a bond forged through countless missions and shared experiences, that holds everyone together even in the most unconventional of moments.

Hotch presses a gentle kiss to the side of my head, moving his hand from the small of my back as I smack Morgan’s arm lightly, passing them all to fall into the seat next to my best friend - Spencer - who hasn’t said a word. I rest my head on his shoulder and smack his leg as I feel his shoulders moving with silent laughter, everyone going back to teasing me and Hotch as the case can wait until we get there.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

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chewingcyanide · 7 months

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𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secretly pining over someone is never fun—even less so when they’re your childhood best friend, and dating someone else.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 —all the angst, jealousy, thoughts of inferiority, cursing, big sadness from reader over here, not proofread i got better things to do

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x fem!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — my valentine’s day jhughes special (albeit a day late ☹️), as promised! sorry it took me so long. couldn’t figure out how to end it. this is unapologetically self-indulgent. also not a wip, but i HAD to do it to em. i’m sorry if your name is brooke or bianca. i love you. promise. maybe we’ll make a part two, if yall like it enough!

₊⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — @dancerbailey3, @bellstwd, @kashee-h, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @brucewaynegfreal, @love4dlr, @jackhughesily, @leavethemonsteralive, @loveforaugust, @43hughes, @nathandoe, @choppedlamphandscowboy, @bunting58, @angelayse, @ru-kru, @sleepretreat, @nonsensical-nonsence, @maih23 (if your name is white, i couldn’t tag you!)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Everyone knows the saying you never know what you have until you lose it. Truth was, you knew exactly what you had—you’d just never imagined you’d lose it.

You never imagined you’d lose him.

A shared childhood and mothers’ who found friendship with each other had brought you and Jack Hughes together, kept you glued even as skin stretched and futures diverged—where he’d gone on to be a star hockey player, you’d quietly came into adulthood, trekking through the difficulties of college.

In your younger years, Jack had always been there. Life of the party, a mirrorball everyone gravitated to for its decadent shine—you, contrastingly, felt like a sore thumb at parties, attending them only to see the smile on Jack’s face. Differing personalities and life routes aside, Jack was your person. The first person you called whenever you were sad, or happy, or bored. The one who knew all of your test scores first, who took hours long flights just to visit you during breaks in the season.

Distance nor time had left a lasting mark on your friendship, kept together by constant phone calls and texts. Whilst you remained imbedded in the hustle of Toronto, Jack was trapped in New Jersey—a gap that you closed every summer, when mutual desire to see one another (as well as his brothers) brought you and him to Michigan for a few months.

From childhood, to high school, to now—it had always been you two. Jokes passed in the years, swirling around with assumptions of the two of you ending up together, finally realizing it after years of proclaimed friendship. For Jack, it’d never been romantic. Loving and caring, a relationship he’d never trade for the world, but the intimacy ended there. Memories of him outwardly flirting with girls in front of you at bars or parties flashed in your mind any time you figured maybe; he’d never given any indicator that you were or would ever be more to him than his best friend.

For you? It was an embarrassingly different story.

College had stolen much of your time—left none for a love life. But truthfully, that didn’t much phase you.

Hookups, flings, boyfriends—all of them paled in comparison to Jack. A childhood crush perpetuated by maturation without loss of contact, Jack had just… always been there. Always a best friend, never a lover; the hanging axe of rejection was too dire a outcome for you to ever consider telling him. Killing a friendship you’d grown with would kill you. And maybe he felt the same way, maybe the kisses he reserved for the crown of your head and the guiding hand he kept on the small of your back meant something, but you couldn’t continue existing if they didn’t.

So, a dutiful friend, you kept quiet, spared the connection and suffered in unrequited love.

And it hadn’t really changed until Jack had gotten a girlfriend. In all your years of knowing him, he’d had a few—though they rarely lasted more than a handful of months, and a selfish and bitter part of you liked that. Sometimes they overstepped, viewed themselves above you in the ranking of Jack’s life; he made painfully clear they never would be.

And it felt good, to be that cherished. But then you remembered he didn’t actually love you and it felt a whole lot less impactful.

Not Brooke.

Brooke, a box-dye blonde with a less-than-stellar reaction to your friendship with her boyfriend, was unarguably beautiful—unapproachably so, someone you’d picture whenever thinking of the girl Jack would end up with. You knew it would never be you, but you hated that it was her, hated that it was finally cemented, the coffin wheeled out.

A friendship you’d cherished for years had been weathered down by the abrasive actions of his girlfriend. It left a bitter taste in your mouth; Jack never seemed privy to Brooke’s nonverbal dislike of you, and you never made comment of it. If Jack was happy, what did it matter? If you said anything, all you’d appear to be was a child throwing a tantrum, the attention torn from them. You refused to jeopardize Jack’s happiness, even if it meant shredding your own.

Brooke tolerated you; that was the best word you could think of. There was surely no excess of love, but you didn’t think she flat out despised you, either. Passive aggressive to the point of just being aggressive, snide looks whenever she didn’t think you could see, intentionally separating you from Jack whenever the two of you were talking—it all made you hate being around her, and by extension, him.

So when he’d invited you to dinner with him—and some of his teammates, a monthly ritual at his house—the knee jerk reaction had been to decline, lie, run while you were still free from the piercing glare of Brooke; because you knew she’d be there, clung to his side, as if you had any intention of taking him away.

… Well, you’d did have the intention. Never the will, so then again maybe she was right to hate you. Feelings you’d never act on, words you’d never say—none of it mattered. She had him. Not you. Never you.

You should’ve said no.

Pouting eyes and pleading lips caved you. As soon as you’d agreed, you’d regretted it—knew in your bones it would only serve to wedge the knife in your heart deeper, solidify the loss of a what you thought would be a lifelong partnership. Your platonic soulmate, twin flame pinched out by hateful fingers.

Getting ready for the dinner felt like preparing for a cage fight, where all night you’d have do endure blow after blow—them kissing, them touching, him loving her in a way you wished he’d love you.

Night blanketed the sky by the time you’d arrived to Jack’s home, shadows slipping by the window, shapes of people telling you that you were likely late—the stone in your stomach had slowed you monumentally. The torture was self-inflicted, you knew. There would be no pity when your heart finally gave out.

She did this to herself, they’d say. Hearts can only endure so much before they break.

Voices coalesced into one as you pushed open the door, welcomed by the familiar atmosphere of friendship and loud laughter. You’d completely forgotten to text Jack that you’d gotten here—and for some reason, as you crossed the threshold into the gaping space of his living room, you felt like an outsider. Sudden eyes landed on you like bullets, and all you saw was Jack—his side taken dutifully by Brooke, always beautiful, striking in a way you didn’t think you’d ever been.

Looking at her, it made sense why she was the one Jack chose. Why you hadn’t been. A best friend. Childhood acquaintance. Faded t-shirt he’d strung along for too many years, even as the design weathered away and the fabric weakened. He’d gotten a shiny new one, the novelty still in tact, yet he hadn’t let you go.

Some part of you, deep in the caves of your wounded heart, wished Brooke would ban him from your presence. Maybe then your hurt would lessen. You knew you’d never be able to let go on your own.

Jack’s eyes caught you, stood awkwardly in the mouth of the hallway. He attempted to stand, only for Brooke to tug him down by his t-shirt—the shirt you’d bought him for his birthday last year, impressed with two hearts holding hands. She said something to him, something low and hissed between clenched teeth. Before you could see his reaction, Nico was invading your space, arms winding around you.

“There she is!” he announced, the ground leaving your feet as he lifted you playfully. “We were waiting on you to eat. Sure do like to take your time.”

Residual bitterness faded at Nico’s words—Jack may have been your best friend, but years of being attached to him introduced you to his teammates; they were always kind, if a little overbearing. A big brother that toed the line of overprotective and well-wishing.

Grateful for the attention distractor, you allowed your shoulders to relax and lungs to decompress. The first cut at seeing Jack, still happily in love with Brooke, was already dealt; you just needed to get through the dinner, and not look like a hostage while doing so.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, shoving Nico’s shoulder as he brought you towards where the others were gathered in the living room. “Make fun of me for driving like a grandma all you want, at least I’m safe.”

Not looking at Jack took more self control than you’d care to admit. Blurring in your peripheral, a mess of colors stacked atop one another, you knew if you glanced—saw the claim Brooke was staking for all to see—it would only make you want to leave. So you didn’t.

Luke was next to greet you, offering a pity-imbued smile. Despite never mentioning your affections for his older brother, you knew he knew; saw it in the way he would look at you, the frowns offered. In times when Brooke inadvertently talked you down, it was Luke who told her off, put balm on the wound.

A side hug and a soft smile—you barely were able to muster one yourself. “How have classes been?”

You graced Luke with an exasperated groan. “Terrible, thanks for reminding me. Economics is kicking my ass.”

Luke sat. You remained standing. A loose thread peeking from your sweatshirt seemed far more intriguing than eyes you were trying desperately not to meet.

“Tough luck,” remarked Luke, conversations reviving after the novelty of your arrival wore off. You recognized a couple of faces around you—Dawson, Jesper, Alexander, and John. Faces you’d become acquainted with in your years of being Jack’s friend.

The title felt a bitter reminder of your ceiling, never surpassing Jack’s best friend. Loved and cherished, a desired presence, just not how you wanted. Who were you to complain? It was better to be his friend than nothing at all; to have a little piece of him, proof that at one point, you’d mattered enough to get it.

You just weren’t sure if you did anymore.

Where once Jack’s name was a regular occurrence, flashing on your phone screen—texts, calls, FaceTimes, they all faded once Brooke came into his life. Movie nights on his couch, reruns of old films that you could quote down to the last line, stopped. You knew Jack cared enough to extend invites, but at this point, you figured it was more out of pity and shame than actual want of your company.

Beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Eventually, everyone made their way into the dining room. Chairs lined a large wooden table, one chosen and haphazardly assembled by you and Jack when he’d first bought this house. Scratches imbedded in the finish sent flashes of dropped hammers and clumsy feet into your mind, memories that felt too far to touch.

Mind far afield, you sat down—somewhere between Luke and Nico, far enough from Jack to be inconspicuous but close enough to feel the sharp burn of his eyes. It was petty, you knew, to have still not greeted him. Not that Brooke would’ve likely even let you. A sadistic part of you wanted him to feel even a modicum of the agony that rattled you whenever you were forced to watch him and Brooke, wanted to wonder and question why you were so cold.

Then again, maybe he didn’t care.

Body detached from your mind, the last thing you expected was to be spoken to—least of all by Brooke. But there her grating voice was, verging on overuse, but you knew that was just how she talked. Chafing and annoying and awful—

“Still no boyfriend?” A venomous smile curled her lips; friendly to the untrained eye. You knew better.

Your fingers twitched. The food in front of you spoiled, appetite evaporated. Of course she asked that—both a jab and a reassurance; if you had a boyfriend, her relationship with Jack would be safe. Not that it wasn’t, regardless.

You wished you could scream at her, leap across the table and force her to hear your words: you’d never have Jack. Want him, yes. Spend years pining over a boy who looked to you like the sister he never had, absolutely. But actually have him, feel his love in every touch and kiss? No. That wasn’t on the cards for you; you’d folded long ago.

“Nope,” you drawled. The pressure of Jack’s stare caved you—you caught his eyes, eyebrows creased, the wrinkle of his forehead that made itself prominent whenever he was annoyed.

What did he possibly have to be annoyed about?

Catching Luke’s gaze only irked you further, alit the urge to push out of your chair and flee Jack’s home. Pity swelled in his eyes, the beginnings of a frown quirking down his lips. You didn’t want pity; didn’t want to feel like the entire world was in on some inside joke you’d never understand. Everyone saw it, your love for Jack. Saw the lovestruck comedy that was your life—girl loves boy, boy isn’t even aware of it, hilarity ensues.

Everyone but Jack. And honestly, that was for the best.

You didn’t think you’d be able to handle the frown when he found out. Jack Hughes, always kind, never malignant, searching for a way to politely turn down his best friend without taking an axe to the connection. Really, there would be no bloodless way to let it die—so you lived in moments between, where nothing felt impactful or important or real.

When Jack was without Brooke, you could almost imagine he was your Jack—the one who turned down every girl so that he’d be free to go to prom with you, the one who got banned from a restaurant for life for pouring a drink over your cheating ex-boyfriend’s head. The Jack who always protected you, always cared, even when all of his friends couldn’t understand it.

That Jack who currently hand his arm around the back of Brooke’s chair, shoulders touching—a casual thing, something you’d done with countless strangers, yet it felt impactful enough to make bile swim in your throat.

“Probably for the best,” Luke interjected after the conversation—if it even was that—between you and Brooke came to an awkward stalemate. “Guys are dicks.”

A tension somehow always existed whenever you were in a room with Brooke. One you never wanted, never fed into. Like a shadow, the morning mist, it hung thick as smog. Choking you, nearly forcing you from the room.

“You’re a guy,” you laughed weakly, offering Luke a pointed look.

“No one at college, then?” Nico piped up. You felt bad for not looking at him, but he was too close to Jack and Brooke—you didn’t want to see them.

Cozy, warm in a way you thought only you’d ever be with Jack. Familiar, united. Their relationship didn’t seem as superficial as his past ones had, woven together under the pretense of good sex and no real connection. Watching Jack love his new, perfect girlfriend made you physically ill; and maybe that was dramatic, maybe it made you a backwards person with failing morals—you couldn’t care anymore.

Years of hiding your love, months of watching his own be poured into a girl that wanted you out of his life—it wore you down to your bones, dangerously close to burning to ash.

“Most of them are… strange, to say the least,” you responded with a wince. And that was true; your major seemed to just attract men whose one quality was making women uncomfortable. “Plus, having a boyfriend would just distract me. Finals are coming up and I’m already worried about how I’m going to do on them.”

Luke scoffed. “Hookups exist.”

A wince followed Luke’s words. Eyes fell to where Jessica was rubbing her hand—Jack apologized, albeit half-heartedly. Confusion overcame you; had he squeezed her hand too tightly?

In the past, you’d had boyfriends. Not that they lasted very long. Somehow, there was always something wrong with them—something only Jack could see; he’d endlessly nitpick, nag, explain why your newest boyfriend wasn’t good enough for you.

They were too old, too uptight, not nice enough. Always something. And without fail, Jack was right—scarcely did they make it past the first date before some measly excuse fell from their lips. But maybe it wasn’t them; maybe it was you. So, with an aching heart refusing to connect with any other but Jack’s, you gave up. Delved headfirst into college work and stayed below the waves, even as they began to drown you.

All you offered in response to Luke was a shrug.

Conversation picked up then, thankfully fell away from you. Limelight sufficiently dimmed, you allowed yourself to watch Jack; a habit you’d never quite shaken, even in the embarrassing moments when he caught your peering gaze.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen in love with Jack—just that you had, and now you couldn’t touch the bottom of him. Water filled your lungs, suffocated you, but if drowning meant being near him, you’d happily do it. Dying in his platonic embrace seemed better than dying all alone.

Ruffled brown hair, the sort of charm that every boy-next-door seemed to possess, and clear blue eyes that shone every emotion like a transparent window to his soul—all of it made Jack Jack, the boy you loved, would admire even in moments he didn’t think he deserved reverence.

You’d seen it all: the self-deprecation after his failure of a rookie year, dwindling confidence, tears imbued with hurt and disappointment, frustration of someone who knew they were better. It was you who’d been by his side, proved an anchor to a person you couldn’t live without.

Yet he’d still chosen Brooke.

For most people, that would be the last step off the cliff, boneless body breaking against the canyon. Not you—so full of hope and dreams, undeterred by every sign the universe gave you. You weren’t his only, but at least you were one.

Jack’s lips parted into a smile, one you could tell was real—his kissed Brooke’s temple, pinched her on the side. An intimate moment in a crowded room. You felt almost as if you were trespassing, a stranger watching two people in love. Part of you didn’t even associate that boy as Jack, because you couldn’t understand how he could love someone so averse to you, so… mean. But then again, it wasn’t about you.

It was about him. Accommodations had been made for years—leaving parties early because you were uncomfortable, blowing off his guy friends to comfort you after a bad date, scrapping his wants and his plans because of something to do with you.

He was probably sick of it. Sick of you, dictating what he could and couldn’t do. Who he could and couldn’t date. Because who cared if Brooke hated you; Jack loved her, despite it all. And that was what made dread swirl into a storm in your heart, ribs nearly cracking under the rate it was thundering at.

Abruptly, you stood. Felt the chair nearly topple. Eyes came to you—Jack’s friends. Yours, yes, but Jack’s foremost. You were just intruding, butting into a life that no longer fit you. Time had passed, the wishful minds of children grown into adulthood. He didn’t owe you anything anymore, especially when all you were was a storm cloud over his parade.

Just as soon as you had, Jack stood, concern clear in his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Your tongue felt like lead. “Nothing—nothing, sorry. I’m—I need to use the restroom.”

You didn’t wait much longer before leaving the room.

Air felt scarce, lungs punctured and deflating quicker than you could patch the holes. Clumsily, you pushed open the door to the bathroom, steadied your shaking hands on the edge of the sink. Looking at yourself, reflection marred by the onset of tears, all you could do was compare—compare to Brooke, to every girl Jack had ever wanted, ever liked, ever loved.

Was it their features, doughy lips that worshipped him in a way you didn’t? Was it their bodies, womanly and free in a way you didn’t like to be? Or was it deeper, were their souls crafted from the same light, in a way you’d always thought your own had been with Jack’s?

Idiot, fool, dreamer—you were all of it. Like a lap dog, bird in its teeth, you always returned, remained dutifully at Jack’s side for the moment he might open the screen door and finally let you in.

Brooke had every right to hate you. Perceptive in a way Jack wasn’t, she saw what everyone else did—the lovesick eyes, foolish faith chaining you to him, an unrealized desire that would never be acted on. Had you been in Brooke’s place, you would’ve hated yourself as well.

Water poured from the faucet, gathered in your cupped palms. Attempting to desecrate any evidence of tears, you gently splashed the water in your face—went to dry it when you heard the sound of the front door creaking open.

“Oh, thank God you’re here, Bee.”

Cold crept up your spine. Eavesdropping was wrong—you knew that, yet still found yourself leaning against the bathroom door to catch Brooke’s words.

“What’s going on?” came the response, likely the voice of Bianca, Brooke’s best friend. You’d met her once at a game (met was a loose word; she’d given you a snide look and taken to ignoring you the entire time).

Brooke’s voice lowered to the point where you were forced to strain to hear her speak. “You know Jack’s little pet?”

A lapse. Your heart seized, taken by some concoction of shame and surprise.

“No.”

“Yes!” responded Brooke. “She’s fucking everywhere. I asked Jack not to invite her tonight, and lo and behold—”

“Wait, I thought you talked to Jack?”

“I did.” Vexation laced every letter. “I told him it made me uncomfortable how close they were, how she was always around, blah blah. He got defensive, but he said he’d talk to her.”

“Clearly not,” Bianca muttered. “Look, I wouldn’t worry about it. They’re childhood friends, yeah? He probably feels like he has to stay her friend, or something. I mean, Jack’s a good guy, he wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone; if he dropped her, he’d look like a douche. I’m sure she’ll get the hint eventually.”

Footsteps began, voices fading along with them. “I fucking hope. It’s honestly pathetic.”

Blood roared in your ears, drowned out the sound of your beating heart—if it was even beating anymore. Something bitter and hot invaded your airways, lashed like whips against your flesh. It was no secret Brooke disliked you, disliked the closeness of you and Jack, but to hear it, the vicious way it fell from her lips—it made your gut twist and constrict, pushing bile towards your throat.

Pathetic. They thought you were pathetic, hopelessly waiting, like a dead plant praying for flowers that would never come. Lovelorn, seeking affection that only came by way of friendship and never more; they were right, and it became evident with a strike of lightning to your body.

Is that truly how Jack felt? Was he waiting for you to give up, so to spare you the hurt of being let down? Had you become baggage? Chained to him, the memory of childhood the only thing keeping you relevant, when times were less impactful and his life didn’t center around being a professional athlete. The stain of youth, remaining only for its joyful memory; that’s all you were now—a memory.

Just like your love, it seemed everyone saw Jack’s hints but you. Rose-colored lenses blurred everything but what you wished to see; of course you missed them, ignored them so your narrative remained intact.

God, you were an idiot. A fucking idiot.

Head pounding, the squeeze of an oncoming migraine rattling your brain, you opened the bathroom door. Felt like a trapped bird all the way back to the table—you just had to get through dinner, only an hour or two, so as to not raise any suspicion, and then you could fade from Jack’s life.

Not that he’d notice. He hadn’t even spoken to you tonight, though no fault of his own; Brooke kept her claws deep, and it was clear he didn’t want to risk an argument. Not that you could blame him—she was his girlfriend. Her. Not you. He didn’t owe you anything.

Conversations filled your ears, ostracized you—every time you had opened your mouth before, it had felt wrong, the scratch on a vinyl everyone skipped over. You saw him first—noticeably tense, chair a bit further away from Brooke that it had been earlier. Tensed forehead, hands balled on the table; you longed to ask what was wrong, as you were used to doing. But you imagined talking to him, and it somehow felt wrong, a peasant addressing a king.

Then, your eyes fell to your seat.

No longer empty, occupied now by Bianca, who was talking casually with Brooke, as if her actions hadn’t changed your entire perception of the situation. There were no more seats. No more room. The metaphor wasn’t lost on you, hit with the same sting of antiseptic on a wound—there wasn’t any more room for you at the table, just as there was no room for you in Jack’s life.

Maybe this was always meant to happen. Childhood didn’t remain forever, and it seemed, neither was your friendship. You’d always wondered why Jack had chosen you, someone so dissimilar to himself and his friends. Eventually, you made peace with it. His friendship was a balm to everything negative. Now… here you were again, more ostracized than ever.

What were you supposed to do? The long haul wasn’t meant to have an end.

Everyone was looking at you now. Stage fright, you lost your speech, thousands of eyes from a crowd looking at you, spotlight centered on your face, and you couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t—

Blue eyes found you, stood stonily at the entrance of the dining room. Jack’s eyebrows knitted, confused as to why you were still stood. When he saw Bianca, his lip curled. Frustration sparked, bemusement painted over. Once more that protective streak flared, something you were so used to—it had once felt the greatest trophy, proof that the Jack Hughes cared enough to stand up for you. It felt a sore consolation now, a reminder that, as always, you’d be the meek girl from his childhood he was forced to drag along, defend, shield from his new life that he fit into perfectly, that you spilled out from.

“Get up.”

Then, the attention went to him.

Brooke glanced at her boyfriend, annoyance flashing on her face. Their conversation paused. “What?”

Jack nodded towards Bianca. “She took her seat,” he explained in a clipped voice. “Get up.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Jack, it’s not a big—”

“It is,” he interrupted. Tension sparked in the air like a misfired firework. “She needs to sit and Bianca took her place, so—”

“It’s fine!” The words spilled out before you could second guess them. They came out raw and pained and everything you didn’t want to appear as; pity pooled from everyone, that sort of second-hand pity you saw on strangers faces when you’d lose your footing and fall.

It was too much. Pins dug into your skin, all of a sudden too tight. You needed to leave. Now, before your bones crumbled and heart gave out and finally everything burst.

“I—um, I should probably get going, anyway,” you said, nodding as if trying to be convincing. “With finals comin’ up I should get in as much studying as I can.”

Determination was something you’d always admired about Jack; it only irked you now. He stood, shrugged off Brooke’s outstretched hand and came to stand before you, and God—it was a disservice to not admire him, even as annoyance creased his eyes and drew inwards his lips. Beauty, in such a raw form, it startled you. Growing up, he’d always been the center of everyones attention. The hockey prodigy, the first overall draft pick, the franchise player for the Devils.

You? You’d been nothing special. Yet he’d still chosen you. And here he was, apparently doing it again—but why? Why when he had a beautiful girlfriend and a perfect life and fun friends did he always come back, when clearly you were no more than a burden?

You tried not to seem spiteful. You did. But it was so hard to hide your wounds and ignore their pain. He may not have seen them, but they were unfortunately still there. And it seemed they always would be.

“You can’t,” he said, searched your gaze—he’d always been able to see straight through you, with such simplicity it frightened you. You tried to shuttered your expression, hide your pain. It wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. “Dinner’s just started—”

“Really, J, it’s fine.” Heat bored into your face where you knew Brooke was staring, daring you to express any deeper connection with Jack past the sheltered friendliness you were currently forcing.

You weren’t going to budge. Jack saw that, and so he sighed and glanced out the window. “I’ll drive you home.”

Oh, God. Nothing was ever easy. Pushing and pushing and pushing until you weren’t sure you even wanted to get up anymore, to even try. Every time you did, right back down you went, encapsulated by everything Jack.

Freedom felt a forgotten thing. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t love Jack, when he wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, main star of the play.

And honestly, you were tired. Tired of wishing for something that would never happen. Tired of being viewed as the shackle around Jack’s wrist. Just tired.

“No need,” you muttered noncommittally, saw the way Jack’s face twisted with concern and confusion and everything you didn’t want to see. “It’s your dinner, J. With my grandma driving, I’ll get home safe.”

The attempt at a joke didn’t land. Smile didn’t even begin to twitch his lips. “It’s dark outside,” he stated, an obvious fact that held no weight for anyone but you and him. “I always drive you when it’s dark.”

That was true enough; your inability to see properly at night meant Jack became your chauffeur, not that he ever complained—even still, it was another thing he did for you, time sacrificed to accommodate you. Prepared to leave his own dinner, his own girlfriend, just to make sure you didn’t have to do something you were uncomfortable with. Conceptually, it was sweet, a sort of gesture that would’ve normally made your heart soar. Now? It made you feel like a burden, an incapable little girl still hiding in the shadow of her protector, afraid of the sting of daylight.

No more.

“I’m going to be fine,” you reassured. Jack didn’t appear convinced—he never was satisfied when it came to you, to your safety, unless he was directly involved. “Stay and have fun.”

“What if—”

“Let her go, babe.”

Brooke’s voice proved the nail in the coffin; a part of you heard the undertone of excitement shot through her words, the possibility of your leave alleviating any annoyance your presence had brought. Without you, Jack’s attention would be fully on her. Without you, he wouldn’t have to concern himself on whether you were having fun and if you were okay.

You. You. You.

You’d considered yourself Jack’s anchor, the grounding of his mind—unfortunately, you’d forgotten an anchor also keeps a thing in place, forcing inactivity.

Let her go.

It rang like a death knell, struck sharp as a poisoned dart, invisible but so unmistakably fatal.

Gathering what remained of your dignity, you grabbed your purse off of your—Bianca’s—chair, caught the commiseration shining in Luke’s eyes like a tarnished trophy. It only stung, reminded you that you needed pity.

Before you could flee the room like a scolded dog, Jack caught your wrist. Heat bloomed, a fever rushing to your head—his simple touch made you sick with want and need and something deeper that would never be realized or fostered. Something you had to let die.

“Text me when you’re home,” he said softly. Fingers gently squeezed your wrist. Where once you’d feel comforted, you just felt trapped. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, all you did was nod.

Honestly, you’d expected some dark cloud to cover you when finally you decided to move on. A procession of funeral goers flocking like crows, unable to understand why you’d abandoned a years-long friendship over something insignificant. Over words spewed from hateful lips.

But it wasn’t what you’d overheard. Deeper, a more sharp knowledge that even if Jack loved you, held you closer than anyone in his circle of friends, he’d never want you in the way you desired. And for a while, that was okay. Because he existed separate of everything—and then came Brooke, and it all crumbled.

You could handle him not loving you. You couldn’t, however, handle him loving someone else so openly.

Street lights blurred behind tears, a mess of streaky lights like a watercolor canvas. Flashes of nights when Jack would drive you home, insisting on taking the wheel so that you didn’t have to toe out of your comfort zone, they haunted you like a inescapable film reel on repeat in your mind. Memories fogged by lost youth, angry words from Jack’s lips as he’d stand up for you—never a party person, denounced for draining the fun. Jack never let those insults slip lip before he was barking at whoever said it.

A responsibility. A burden. The lines had become blurred in recent years.

The latter seemed more fitting.

Through a barrier of tears, you were able to send Jack a text as your car rolled to a stop in the parking lot.

at my dorm

j :)

ok good. u ok? u seemed off @ dinner

Fingers hovered over your screen. Make movements to draft a text. Nothing seemed sufficient.

You let the text stale. Sit stagnant on your phone. Jack would likely worry, eventually call—you just wanted to fall into a void and never return. Not after the mess you’d made of dinner.

The mess you’d made of your life.

Making a ghost of yourself was far more difficult than you’d thought it would be.

Incessantly, Jack had texted you, called you—you didn’t answer any of them. Silence felt a balm to your shame. Selfish, you knew, to just ghost Jack without offering any explanation, but nothing would be sufficient, not without souring the connection you were hoping would die without pain.

Cowardice, craven, pathetic—you knew you were all of it. To you, you were giving Jack a chance to pull back, to fizzle the friendship of his own accord. Maybe then it would’ve stung less, if the desire of its end was reciprocated, mutual. As it were, it was not.

Even with your withdrawal, Jack still tried. Shot texts, called and punctuated them with voicemails, sent you TikToks and Snaps and everything he would normally do if everything was fine; but it wasn’t. And you knew he knew, could sense the urgency in his attempts at communication.

You felt dirty, filthy with shame and guilt.

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t appear as unaffected as you hoped. While your insides were shredding themselves, you tried valiantly to paint over your visage with the normal happy-go-lucky smile you always wore. Most people, if they noticed, didn’t comment on it.

Unfortunately, Kaylen did notice.

Since your freshman year of college, Kaylen had been your roommate—low maintenance, intelligent to the point of making you stupid without even trying. As such, she was far more perceptive than you gave her credit for.

There’d been times you confided in her about your feeling for Jack, sought out advice that never seemed good enough. Because no one but yourself could fix the valley that had split between Jack and you. You could seek outward help all you wanted, but nothing would change unless you did something—and, really, you weren’t sure that was even a good idea anymore.

Two days of moping resulted in Kaylen’s intervention.

“Get up.”

Sunlight bled through your shut eyes, forced a wince. Hands rolled you onto your back, the somewhat stiff mattress of your bed providing a measly cushion. Sleep intruded on, your hands extended, attempted to push away the figure you knew what trying to rile you.

“Go away,” you grunted, throat thickened by sleep and other terrible emotions.

“No,” Kaylen hissed. When finally you opened your eyes, her squinted expression invaded your vision. “Look, I’ve let you be miserable for two days, but it’s getting ridiculous. What the hell happened with you and loverboy?”

A jolt nearly paused your heart mid-beat. Thinking about Jack stung in a way you didn’t like to admit, mainly due to the fact that it was painfully embarrassing that he had such a control over you.

“Don’t call him that,” you muttered, bit your tongue to stop anything else from spilling out.

Kaylen’s eyebrows quirked. “So it is about him?”

Nails scraped your lungs. “No—yes—fuck,” you moaned, sitting up and balancing your forehead on bent knees. “It’s… all fucked up, K. I don’t know what to do.”

A sigh left her lips. You felt the bed dip as she climbed beside you. “I can help if you tell me.”

And so you did, started at the beginning of dinner to the end, as you left like a dog defeating in a cage match, heart crying blood. Comforting circles were rubbed into your thigh, but all they did was remind you how Jack used to trace shapes onto your leg, or arm, or back—how he touched you, just to know you were there, with him. He said it placated him.

It was shameful, how bile teased your throat even imagining it.

Rationally, you knew everything was your doing. Loving Jack, torturing yourself by being in his presence whilst he focused his attention on his girlfriend. Expecting any semblance of affection or intimacy even as another held his heart, branded her name over your own. It was always going to happen—knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

When finally you finished, the conclusion of your mournful, self-pitying tale followed by the sting of unwanted tears, Kaylen’s thoughtful silence waned. Her lips pursed, fingers twitching. You expected her to berate you; what had you expected, stupid girl? He has a girlfriend!

Instead, Kaylen hugged you. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry,” she murmured, pulled back with that pitiful smile you’d seen one too many times—one you’d be fine with if you never saw again. “He cares about you—”

“Not how I care about him, though,” you finished, and Kaylen gave a weak nod.

“I mean, if you told him what Brooke and her little bitch of a friend said, I’m sure he’d leave her. He’s done more for less.” That much was true. Regardless of whose lips it came from, Jack didn’t tolerate disrespect towards you—cut long time friends off for assuming they had any authority to speak poorly of you.

And you knew—knew with the same certainty that you knew your own name—that Jack would break up with Brooke if he knew how she’d spoken of you.

That should’ve made you giddy. Bursted bright light in your chest at the prospect of having Jack to yourself once more. Instead, it made you feel heavy, sand packed into your bones. Who were you to invade his happiness? If he’d chosen Brooke, so be it.

Sure, she’d disparaged you, but Jack’s life wasn’t yours to dictate anymore. If he wanted Brooke, he’d have her, until he decided to leave—not because you decided for him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Eyelids heavy, the residue of late-night tears remaining on the skin, you felt the fight leave you. Kaylen frowned. “I just want it all to be over.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Seriously? You’re giving up on an eight year friendship because of something some dickface said about you? I thought Jack meant more to you than that.”

Kaylen’s words stung. Made you defensive, because she was right—you were giving up and you did care about Jack, but the pain had become too much. “It’s not—it’s harder to explain than that. He’s outgrown me, K. Everyone can see it but him. I’m an obligation, a burden, and yeah, maybe he loves me as a friend and maybe he wants me around, but his friends never have—his fucking girlfriend doesn’t. And at this point, I just want it to end, I want him to be happy without the conditions of making me happy.”

Silence followed. Contemplation showed clear on Kaylen’s face. You could tell, even without her words, that she didn’t agree—but, she didn’t comment on that. Rather, she placed a hand on your leg and squeezed.

Just like Jack always did.

“It’s your life, babe,” she conceded. “And if you want to do this, I’m not going to stop you—but you have to be content with it.” She gestured to you, the nest of blankets and red-rimmed eyes. “Because this? This isn’t happiness over a good choice. You’re miserable without him, and it’s been barely two days. Think about what you’re doing before it’s irreversible.”

With that, Kaylen got up and went to her own bed, and neither of you made comment of it for the rest of the day.

Her words came again and again like a fractured turntable. Of course you were miserable—Jack had been a constant in your life for eight years, consistently preserving your peace, including you when you’d never felt more like an outsider. Happiness was synonymous with Jack, his smile, his presence, him.

Did you regret your decision? Yes, and no. You regretted the way you’d gone about it. The petty silence, ignoring a person who’d made your younger years bearable. Your friendship deserved a better death than that, a reason rather than just… fading from existence, as if it never mattered in the first place.

That wasn’t the message you wanted conveyed, and so with fingers unsteadied by aftershocks, you texted Jack.

You weren’t sure how you’d explain, if you could tiptoe around the actual reason. Maybe you couldn’t, and maybe that was okay.

i’m so sorry for everything. i’ll explain in person. can we meet up?

Your response came half a second later. As if he were waiting. That selfish part of you prayed he had been.

j :)

ofc. my place tn?

yeah. that’s good. brooke won’t be upset?

Asking after her made you want to puke, but you knew it was necessary—she didn’t like Jack even breathing near you, having an entire sit down conversation with him was certainly out of the question.

Thrice, the little text bubble appeared and disappeared on your phone screen. You could sense the apprehension without any background knowledge.

j :)

not a problem. we broke up.

It was shameful, the backwards type of pleasure that brought you.

Maybe you were a terrible person. A terrible friend. You tried to reason that it wasn’t wrong to love someone, to wish they were yours.

shit j. i’m sorry

j :)

i’m not. i’ll see u tn. 7:30 work? have dinner w the guys.

yeah, that’s fine. see you soon, j.

j :)

be safe. i’ll text you when i’m home.

The hard part wasn’t even over, and your heart was already breaking in two.

Sweat beaded at your palms, the cold claws of apprehension raking down your spine. Countless times you’d been stood here, facing the lifeless beige of Jack’s apartment door. This time, however, you stood here knowing it was the last time. A silent farewell to familiarity, the ties finally cut. Jack would fight, you would cry, and maybe he’d be able to change your mind—it seemed such an unlikely outcome that it calcified every inhale in your throat.

Shaking hands rapped the wooden door, where behind would come the execution of a friendship you’d held like a crutch for years upon years. Your childhood had died, and maybe it would’ve been better had it been left there as well, so as to spare you this heart-rending pain.

Even still, you wouldn’t have traded those years for the world—everything they taught you, through pain and happiness. It made you who you were, brought you to his doorstep with melancholy eyes and a failing heart.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, urgent in a way that picked up your heart rate. The next moments you imagined with brutal clarity—Jack’s hopeful gaze, blue in a way no one else’s ever had been, the soft slope of his nose you teased him for, scrunched whenever he was particularly concerned. How he’d usher you in, hear your words, plead for a moment to explain, and then admit his love for you.

That was how you dreamt it. Unsurprisingly, it was not how it went.

Instead of the door opening to reveal the man you’d love for a lifetime, the squealing hinges were followed by a face that nearly knocked you backwards. Previous indifference smeared into flat-out disdain as Brooke’s eyes caught your figure, engulfed in one of Jack’s faded hoodies and likely disheveled in a way she’d never experienced herself.

Arrows punctured your lungs, sole your breath and defaulted your barely beating heart. Brooke was here. At Jack’s apartment. After they’d supposedly broken up. Had he lied? Was he tricking you, making you the fool? He never would, you knew that, but your wounded mind spun falsities to perpetuate your pain, as if punishment for trusting him in the first place.

“What do you want?” Brooke grunted, leant against the doorframe. Lips twitched into a smirk, the smile of the victorious.

You’d never considered yourself a violent person, but the urge to punch her in the teeth itched your fists. “Is Jack here?”

Her face fell. Something dark flashed in her face—she hesitated a moment, tossed a look over her shoulder. “Yes.”

The curt response was better than nothing, you supposed. “Right, well, can you tell—”

Brooke ran a hand through her hair. Adjusted the clasp of her necklace. “We were kind of in the middle of something. Come back later?”

The axe struck down.

Gravel filled your throat. Suffocated you. If Brooke knew the affect of her words, for once it didn’t show on her face. Years of life had taught you many things, drug you through agonies you wouldn’t relive for anything, yet somehow, this was the worst pain.

To be betrayed, trust snapped by a single action, it stung. Wormed venom in your veins and contaminated your bloodstream, poisoning your heart. Realistically, Jack hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He was allowed to hook up with other girls, to love them—he had, for years.

That wasn’t the issue.

No, it was the fact that he’d set a time, invited you over, and somehow forgot? Or had he set it all up, just to rub it in your face, get his lick-back for your prolonged silence towards him? Either way, it hurt, hurt like a bitch.

Made stone, all you did for a moment was blink at Brooke before a voice called from the background, “Who is it?”

Jack.

Fright found you then, broke away your shell of stone. You couldn’t let him see you, the dog wishing once more to come in from the cold. If he’d planned it, and saw you, he knew he’d won. If he hadn’t planned it, then he realized that—irrecoverably—he fucked up. Both choices felt like a criminal trial you didn’t want any part of.

“I—um—have a good night,” you rushed out, feet stumbling over themselves as you practically ran away from Jack’s door.

So much for closure.

So much for being broken up.

Maybe this was your sign. The one you needed to finally pull away.

Because Jack Hughes didn’t love you. Not past platonic soulmates—a relationship stained with past memories, ones that made both of you incapable of letting go, even as you outgrew it.

You were done being second best. Done trying to squeeze into a place you didn’t fit anymore.

If Brooke was Jack’s choice, so be it. You didn’t want any part of it anymore.

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kikyoupdates · 16 days

Text

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟷

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“...you can do what now?”

“Hire someone to date you,” your friend, Ava, repeats. She chuckles and waves you off dismissively. “Come on, [Name]. It’s the modern age. People are always coming up with new things these days. I’m willing to bet there’s an app or website out there for practically anything.”

You blink in disbelief. Granted, there is all kinds of crazy shit going on in the world, and you’ve heard of companionship services before—like escorts or sugar baby arrangements—but to hear that something like this is trending nowadays is still undeniably a shock.

“Here, look,” Ava gestures, pulling out her phone. “I was curious, so I downloaded the app the other day just to check out.”

“Uh, don’t you already have a boyfriend?”

“He knows I was just browsing. I showed him too, and we scrolled through some stuff together. A lot of the profiles on here are wild,” she laughs. “It’s crazy what people advertise they’re willing to do. Get a load of this guy. He says he’s down to meet your family and make a total ass out of himself just so that he lowers your parents’ standards and the next real boyfriend you get will look way better by comparison.”

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. “I can’t tell if this is actually real, or just some new meme template.”

“Of course it’s real! I think you’re underestimating how lonely people these days are. There’s definitely a lot of money to be made in this industry. Just look at how much people are willing to blow on their favorite streamer, even though they’ve never met them a day in their life. Dating’s gotten a lot more complicated lately, so I guess some people just want to skip past the troublesome parts and experience what it’s like to be with someone.”

You furrow your brows. The whole thing sounds incredibly sad when you think of it that way. People would rather pay for a fabricated relationship than put in the time and effort towards building something real? Loneliness is starting to sound like an actual epidemic nowadays.

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t judge people without understanding where they’re coming from,” you acknowledge. “It’s not like I know what they’ve been through. Times are changing and all. It sounds like this is actually starting to become pretty mainstream.”

Ava nods chipperly. “Yep! I mean, I love my boyfriend, so I’m definitely not the target audience, but maybe it’s what some people need to gain a little boost of confidence and get back into the dating scene. I doubt everyone uses it in a romantic sense too. There are people out there that just want a bit of company every now and then. Isn’t it nice that they have someone to spend time with this way?”

“Yeah… I guess that’s true.”

Honestly, you’re still struggling to fully wrap your head around this. You understand the premise well enough, but you can’t really get past the part about accepting payment just to provide someone with a fabricated experience. Then again, you suppose that’s the case for most things nowadays. People are willing to spend the brunt of their earnings on in-game purchases for video games and other things that aren’t tangible in the real world, because even though they aren’t necessarily organic, it still provides them with some satisfaction.

Long story short, it’s not up to you to decide what does or doesn’t make someone else happy, and you suppose as long as it’s executed in a professional manner, there’s nothing wrong with meeting new people this way.

“Hey, I’ve got a great idea,” Ava suddenly perks up. “You should join this app! You’re super pretty, smart, and nice. I bet you’d have loads of guys lining up to hire you as their girlfriend!”

“Me?” You blink repeatedly, shuffling backwards the closer she leans in. “I mean, I just don’t think I’m the right person for the job. If it makes people happy, then I support it, but deep down, I worry I’d feel like I’m exploiting someone’s feelings just for a few extra bucks. Morally speaking, I’m not so sure I like the idea…”

“It’s not exploitation,” she insists. “People know what they’re signing up for. At the end of the day, it’s a buyer-seller relationship. Someone pays for the service being advertised, and they receive it. As long as you’re not ambiguous about what you’re willing to do for the amount that you’re charging, people know what to expect. Of course, I’m sure there might be the occasional asshole here and there, but if they do anything inappropriate or violate the terms, you can report them through the app and they’ll be banned from using it.”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that. Some extra money would be nice. You’re a university student with all sorts of loans, so it’s not like you’ve got excess cash lying around. And it’s also true that you’ve been looking to apply for a new job lately, since your old manager was a total ass and you ended up quitting.

Still. A girlfriend-for-hire? Someone like you? It’s just really difficult to imagine.

“I actually think it’d be a good experience,” Ava goes on. “You’ve never really put yourself out there before. I know everyone dates at their own pace and stuff, but you shouldn’t have to be afraid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet some cool people and want to date them for real. And even if you don’t end up going for them, you still make some money, so either way, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

You chuckle weakly. “Yeah, I just don’t know. I feel like I’m better suited for traditional jobs. But thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m glad you think people would actually be willing to pay to date me.”

“Girl, you seriously need to believe in yourself more,” Ava sighs. “I’m telling you, you’re a catch. But at the end of the day, it’s your call. You shouldn’t force yourself into anything if you feel uncomfortable.”

You smile and nod in agreement, and sensing your discomfort, Ava decides to change the topic.

But for some reason, you feel a twinge in your chest, and it’s hard to keep your mind from wandering.

Later that same day, you’re lounging on the couch, mouth agape, having just downloaded the app on your own phone.

“What the hell am I doing…?”

You tell yourself that it’s just simple curiosity. Yeah. That’s all it is. Ava piqued your interest earlier, and now you just want to scroll through in more detail to get a better sense of what kind of people use this platform.

The app is called ‘Partner For Hire’. The name isn’t particularly inspired, you have to admit, but you suppose it communicates its point rather effectively and leaves no room for ambiguity. Ultimately, this is a transactional relationship, and it’s probably for the best that clients know what to expect.

You can use the app as either a buyer or seller. Meaning that you can create your profile and advertise your services, or simply list yourself as a prospective client and what your hobbies and interests are. In that sense, it’s kind of similar to most dating apps, since you have to take a flattering photo to go along with whatever blurb you’re providing. Of course, just because you try to solicit someone’s services doesn’t mean there’s any guarantee they’ll accept. This is an app where you can run everything yourself, and of course the company takes a cut of your profits, rather than an agency that matches you with a client regardless of whether you want to accept the job or not.

There’s definitely a lot of flexibility, and you can easily choose who you want to pretend to date. If someone is interested in hiring you, they submit a request to be able to contact you, and once you accept, you can message them directly and establish the terms of the dating contract, such as the length and what particular services will be provided.

You scroll through the list of boyfriends/girlfriends being advertised on the app, and honestly, it seems like there’s a decent amount of money to be made. Of course, a lot of that comes with building a good reputation and improving your ratings and visibility so more people will want to hire you, but it actually seems like a decent amount of people are able to make a living off this sort of thing.

You bite down on your lower lip. Should you really go ahead and just do it? Like Ava said, there’s probably not much to lose. All the transactions are managed on the app, so you can easily report people who try to skip out on paying. Clients have to link their banking and personal info, so they’d be taking on a big risk by trying to scam people. You’re sure it might happen from time to time, but based on the reviews you’ve read, the company is really good at enforcing their policies and making sure everyone gets paid.

The money seems good, and it would definitely help take some pressure off your student loans, but ultimately, the biggest thing you’re struggling with is your moral compass.

People are willing to spend money for this kind of thing, and that’s entirely their choice to make, so it’s not like you’re extorting them or anything. Still… you wonder if it’s actually okay to profit off of someone else’s loneliness. You’ve never worked the kind of job that requires you to cater directly to another person’s emotions, and it kind of freaks you out.

But maybe Ava is right. There are all sorts of people in this world. Maybe some of them are just curious to try the app out. Maybe others just want to get their families off their back by pretending like they’re dating someone for a little while. There’s no way to discern everyone’s motivations, so perhaps there’s really no point in thinking about it at all.

Most importantly, this could be a good thing for you. Life has been stagnant recently, and it’s true that you usually hesitate to put yourself out there. You’ll never learn what you do or don’t like if you keep on avoiding everything. This could be a chance to learn a lot about other people, but also, to learn more about yourself.

Yeah. It’s time to stop overthinking for a change and just try something new.

Thus, feeling unusually determined, you spend the rest of the day setting up your profile (finding nice selfies was the longest part of the whole ordeal), and with a resolved huff, you post it and officially go live on the app.

You’re not really sure what you were expecting, but needless to say, there isn’t any immediate feedback. It probably takes a while for people to stumble across your profile, and even then, there’s no guarantee they’ll want to go out with you.

I guess I was getting worked up for no reason. Certain people might find success with this kind of thing, but it’s probably not as easy as it looks.

You scratch your cheek, suddenly sheepish over how needlessly excited you got earlier. You’re not used to stepping out of your comfort zone, so you must have gotten a bit carried away.

For the rest of the evening, you set your phone aside and come back to reality. You get some homework done, make dinner, and by the time you’re ready for bed, you’ve pretty much forgotten about the whole thing altogether.

That is, until you check and see that you’ve missed a notification.

“Huh? Someone viewed my profile and wants to message me?”

You’re undeniably taken aback. Not just because it’s happening a lot sooner than you expected, but also because it means that contrary to what you first thought, people are interested in you.

Having minimal experience when it comes to dating and romance in general, you have to admit, the thought of being viewed as desirable is immensely flattering.

Curious to see who wants to hire your services, you click on the user’s profile.

His name is Isaac, and he’s twenty-one years old, set to complete his undergraduate studies at the end of the year. He goes to a different university than yours, thankfully, because you can’t help but feel like it would be incredibly awkward to bump into him on campus after pretending to be his girlfriend. He’s studying to become a doctor, which means he’s still got a lot of school ahead of him, but you’ve always had a lot of admiration for people who are willing to commit to their goals and work hard.

Also, even though you don’t want to sound shallow or anything… he’s really, really attractive.

You frown. Granted, there’s more to a person than their appearance, but based on how he comes across in his profile and what his future career is, he doesn’t strike you as the type of person who would struggle to date someone.

But again, you can never know what’s going on in a stranger’s life. And there’s no real way to find out why he decided to join the app.

Apart from speaking to him directly, of course.

[𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬?]

>>[𝐘𝐄𝐒]

After a momentary delay, the screen loads into a messaging interface, allowing you to see what Isaac sent you and respond to him directly.

You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like he’s not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you can’t blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your life—even now, as an adult—so you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times.

All of a sudden, you don’t feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesn’t feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, you’d be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling.

More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now.

[𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞]:

You’re admittedly a bit nervous, especially since you want to do a good job and avoid letting him down, but mostly, you’re feeling excited. All of this is uncharted territory for you, after all. Never in a million years would you have imagined taking on a job like this.

And you really shouldn’t have.

You don’t know it yet, but this will be the cause of many, many regrets.

Shit. I’m starting to have second thoughts.

Even now, you still can’t believe you’re really going through with this. After talking to Isaac and ironing out the finer details, you agreed to join him for a family gathering and pose as his girlfriend. You expected for him to have quite a few requests, but luckily, he seems pretty laid back about the whole thing. The better portion of your conversation was spent on getting your stories straight so as not to incur any suspicion, and since you’ve always been a good student and a hard worker, you promptly memorized everything there was to know.

And now, it’s finally time to put this plan in motion.

“Hey,” Isaac greets. “[Name], right?”

It’s the evening, since his parents are hosting a dinner party. The event is supposed to be pretty casual, but you still dressed up semi-formal in the hopes of making a good impression. He never explicitly mentioned how strict his parents are, but since they’ve been on his case about getting a girlfriend, it never hurts to go the extra mile.

"Hi, Isaac,” you smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” he nods. He’s considerably taller than you, and every bit as handsome as his picture suggested. Unless his personality is god-awful (which you probably would’ve picked up on after messaging him for so long), you’ve got a good feeling that most girls would be interested in him.

Still, everyone is different. He might have really high standards, or maybe he wants to focus on his studies, or perhaps it’s just a case of having never met the right person. Whatever the reason may be, his parents shouldn’t be pressuring him to date someone, and if you have the means to help him out, you’ll happily do it.

“You look really nice,” Isaac says. He tilts his head to the side. “I hope you didn’t feel like you had to dress up to impress anyone. The most important part is that they believe I’m seeing someone so that they finally ease up a bit.”

“Oh, I just did this for my own peace of mind,” you reassure. “I made sure to memorize everything you told me in advance, so I’m confident I can convince them that we’re the real deal. Even though this is technically my first day on the job… I promise not to let you down.”

You blush, feeling rather flustered. The idea of being someone’s hired girlfriend is still a lot to wrap your head around, and you certainly don’t want to make empty promises, but you have every intention of giving it your best shot. Isaac is in a stressful situation, and you’re resolved to do whatever you can to fix it.

“Can’t wait to get this over with,” Isaac sighs. He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to step inside the car. “Don’t worry. I know you might be feeling a bit uneasy, but I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I won’t hold it against you if you have 911 ready on speed dial until we get to my parents’ house.”

“I trust you,” you insist. “I’ve heard good things about this app, and it sounds like they take safety seriously. They’ve got your information in their system, after all. Plus, I can tell that you’re a nice guy. It’s just a gut feeling.”

“I appreciate it,” he smiles. “Anyways… I guess I’ve stalled for long enough. You can probably tell that I really don’t feel like going. But the sooner I get them off my back, the better.”

“I’ll be the best girlfriend you can ask for,” you beam.

It’s a promise to him, but also to yourself. You are committed to taking this new job seriously, and for the rest of the evening, you will do whatever it takes to blend into the role that’s been thrust upon you. There’s no reason to get worked up. At the end of the day, all of this is pretend. It won’t be anywhere near as complicated as a real relationship.

Right?

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tunafruitt · 8 months

Text

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader, slight crack, reader gets called a test subject and is implied to be used as one [Dottore’s part] OOC w/ Dottore..? Idk I haven’t finished sumeru yet </3

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): DOTTORE, XIAO

-> [ DOTTORE ]

“The Doctor is the Creator’s suitor? As in… the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Are you sure that’s him? You are? Oh.. is— Is Your Grace feeling okay? I don’t see why anyone would be willingly involved with the Fatui Harbingers. What?! No! I’m not saying that’s not okay. Your Grace can do whatever they want! Hmph..”

The people of Teyvat felt conflicted to say the least. They weren’t judging your ability to make choices! They really weren’t… they just thought that there were better choices out there for Their Grace!! Yeah, everyone knew you liked the harbingers even before you descended, but couldn’t you have chosen a less deranged harbinger? For example… uhm... none of them.

Dottore could really care less what everyone else thought of his relationship with you though. He got the full package! His lover was the All Mighty Creator, and now he has a new “test subject”! (he says it affectionately.) Dottore knows people hate him even more than before, but who’s the one with the Creator’s arms wrapped around them, head over heels? This benefits him in so many ways. Wether it be research, obtaining materials, or just being able to have something more to use against the rest of the harbingers.

No one would ever dare voice the opinions they have of him while you’re in the vicinity. They’ll listen to you talk about a “date” you had with Dottore, which was really just you and him in his lab…. and he’s using you to help with his research. Hearing this, the rest of the allogene’s eyes are twitching, their fists are clenched, they’re FURIOUS. Not at you! Never. They’re mad at Dottore. How dare he use you as a test subject?! (you volunteered) How dare he use you to try to make another god?! (you thought that sounded fun) How dare he be IN LOVE with the All Mighty Creator?! (you fell first.)

When the two of you are seen in public, the streets go QUIET. Dottore carries this eerie aura with him, everyone knows who he is. And adding to the fact he’s a harbinger, he is also now recognized as the Creator’s suitor. Everyone besides you feels the silence and the stares, including Dottore, but if his lover is happy does it really matter? <3

In conclusion, everyone hopes Dottore dies. It’s not that they don’t want to see you happy. In fact, the entirety of Teyvat is glad you’re experiencing love and joy, just not with HIM.

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

You spend a lot of days in Dottore’s lab. Today was one of those days.

You were conversing with one of Dottore’s younger clones. The clones, while being segments of Dottore, have their own distinct personalities. The one thing they hold in common is the love they have for you.

You love talking to the clones and giving them breaks from whatever days-long tasks Dottore gives them, but you miss the Dottore who’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep and after you wake up. You haven’t seen him since yesterday! Is this really how your boyfriend treats his lover…. who also happens to be the Creator???

And so you decide to go look for him. Who would’ve guessed he was sitting where he always was; his desk. Once you’ve spotted him, as payback for leaving you alone, you decide to sneak up on him. You try your hardest to silence your steps as much as possible in this hollow and echoey office of his.

“I can hear you, Y/N.”

“No you can’t... C’mon Dottore! Cut me some slack. I haven’t seen you since yesterday… and you didn’t even come to say good morning to me today!”

“Good morning.”

“It’s 4:00 PM, love. Take a break. It’s not like I’ll die anytime soon… can I even die..? Uhm.. that’s besides the point. You can conduct your experiments on me and do you research later. Come entertain me, please?”

“Are you asking because I have a choice?”

Your silence gives him an answer. You pull him up from his chair by grabbing his hands and pull him into a hug. You lean in closer to peck his cheek. He leans into you and grabs you by the waist to pull you closer—

“Doctor, the segments have finished—“

“Oh.”

-> [ XIAO ]

“Oh! One of the adepti? THE VIGILANT YAKSHA?! S-sorry that caught me by surprise… So the Yaksha is dating the Creator, huh. His tales have been documented for millennia’s, yet he’s rarely seen in public… I guess even someone like that can’t help but fall for Our Grace.”

So that must be why you always cooked Almond Tofu… Well, since Xiao IS the Conqueror of Demons, I can see the people of Liyue being quite happy. Jealous? Yes. But who’s even more jealous? Mondstadt. Why couldn’t it be one of the Knights of Favonious or something? But they guess you’re happy and that’s enough… (Though it could’ve been with them.)

Xiao is seen a little more often with you now that it’s confirmed you two are dating. Not too often, but if you want to go try out a restaurant in the city of Liyue, he’ll never say no. He may not speak much, but according to rumors is Liyue… “his eyes are always on you, listening to anything and everything the Creator has to say. It’s clear he’s fallen completely in love!” (Said by Chef Mao, probably.)

Being Xiao’s partner may seem awkward from an outsiders perspective, but he’s surprisingly sweet! He still won’t talk much, but he’ll reply to any questions you have, no matter how stupid or obvious they are with full genuity. Him being the Conqueror of Demons and you being the Creator, you both live busy lives…. so his eyes literally light up when you two are both able to finally see each other after a long time. <3 (he’s head over heels guys help.)

The adepti would be so PROUD. They probably already knew you and Xiao had a little something going on even before it was announced because of the way Xiao seemed slightly more happy. This lead to then being suspicious and eventually seeing him and you together… doing the most intimate thing ever…..

…. HOLDING HANDS. UNDER THE MOONLIGHT. But they kept quiet so don’t worry!

─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

“Xiao! I found you.”

As per usual, Xiao was sitting on the roof of Wangshu Inn. Today was one of the days where both of you were busy. You had a meeting to attend, and he was doing his job as The Conqueror of Demons. It was night by the time you were able to see each other.

“You should’ve called my name, Your Grace. It would’ve been easier for me to find you.”

“Yeah but I like looking for you. I always know where you are since you’re in the same spots anyway. And besides, I like how Wangshu Inn looks at night!”

You always thought Xiao looked pretty, but he looked especially pretty under the moonlight. His face seemed to glow more than usual today. Maybe it was the warm colored light radiating from inside of Wangshu Inn, or the light reflected by the moon shining down on him. Maybe it was the fact he had missed you so much that seeing your face again brought him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Your Grace?”

“Oh, sorry Xiao, I lost my train of thought. Let’s go eat! I’m feeling hungry… today’s meeting was waaayy too long… C’mon, I’ll buy you something!”

“No need. I’ll be okay with just accompanying Your Grace.”

“Agh, stop calling me that. Y/N? Can you say Y/N? Please Xiao?”

“… Y-Y/N..”

“See? Not too hard right? Ok let’s go eat! I’ll make you Almond Tofu how you like it.”

FINALLY DONE OOHMYGODDD sorry this took so long. Idk what I should do next so feel free to request anything… ANYWAYS THE FIRST PART OF THIS GOT ALMOST 700 NOTES??? omg stop guys I’m giggling and blushing aughshsgghh. But seriously thank you so much I’m bawling

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin xiao #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #dottore #genshin harbingers #genshin #gender neutral reader #yayyy #tunafruitt #xiao x reader #dottore x reader #genshin sagau

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after-witch · 8 months

Text

Two in the Hand [Yandere Sukuna x reader]

Title: Two in the Hand [Yandere Sukuna x reader]

Synopsis: Sukuna wants to eat you.

Word count: 1000ish

Notes: yandere, threats of cannibalism, mentions of sexual conquests

Inspired by the interaction prompt: Sukuna says he wants to eat you. Reader replies: "Ah, I'm flattered, but I'm saving myself for marriage!"

The dual reactions on Yuji’s--but not entirely Yuji’s--face play out swiftly. Yuji’s cheeks flush a pinker hue at your words, while the mouth currently planted in the center of one cheek curls downward… and then upward.

It’s almost dizzying, the way you’re trying to pay attention to both of them at once. Yuji, your friend; Sukuna, the curse currently lodged inside him, of which you can only see a mouth that has shifted location three times during Sukuna’s diatribe about consuming you.

He means it literally. You realized this early on. Or rather, he admitted it directly without so much as a metaphor when he discussed the best cuts of human meat, the best ways to consume it to ensure best flavor, and the way that he wonders if modern humans taste better or worse than their predecessors.

“You would let your spouse consume your flesh?” Sukuna asks, and Yuji slaps his hand over the demonic lips on his face to silence them.

”Just--” Yuji begins, but he cringes--

The lips reappear on the top of Yuji’s hand, unbothered.

“Answer me, human. Or I’ll eat you right now.”

You almost want to ask him how he plans to eat you when he’s currently a pair of lips, but if Sukuna can make the lips on Yuji’s body speak, perhaps it’s not far off to assume they might be able to tear at your flesh.

So you start to think, and think quickly. You keep your posture meek and you even give a little bow.

"Of-of course, Sukuna." You pause. Should you call him something more deferential? It might help. You've gained the strongest sense that he sees himself as vastly superior to everyone else in the world, human and curse alike. "I mean, of course, lord Sukuna. I'd be happy to offer an explanation."

If only you could think of a proper one, beyond your initial excuse, stammered out because you didn’t know what else to say to such an awful, violent, disturbing threat aimed at you from a demonic pair of lips.

There's a moment of silence. Two, three or four. And the lips on Yuji's hand--still there, despite Yuji attempting to literally shake them off--begin frown again. They’re starting to twist, perhaps to threaten you again, when you perk up.

“It’s just that…” You lower your head in deference again. Yuji quirks his head, but you can see from the corner of your eye that the lips have ceased to curl downward. “Being devoured is the ultimate act of intimacy. And if I’m going to be one with someone forever, my lord, it’s only proper that it’s my spouse.”

You fiddle with the edge of your shirt. “I certainly couldn’t imagine some stranger consuming me, keeping me with them forever like that. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be proper.”

You swallow against spit and the faintest hint of bile, before daring to glance up. Yuji’s gaze goes between you and his hand, until--

Laughter comes from the lips embedded into his skin, low and mean. You can imagine, if Sukuna were in front of you, that he would throw his head back in mockery.

And then, Sukuna says something. It’s not a word that makes any sense, really. But Yuji throws his head back and suddenly, he’s not Yuji at all.

He’s Sukuna.

With black markings on his face and a look in his eyes that makes you want to run. Only then, a thought comes to mind, something your father told you when you were little, and hiking in the woods:

Never run from a predator. It only makes them chase you.

“You’re most entertaining,” he says, while you stand there, open-mouth, trembling like a cold wind has blown through the air.

“Entertaining?” You parrot. You take a step back, and he matches it forward.

“Most humans are too frightened to do anything but beg for their lives, if they even get that far, when I threaten to eat them.”

You force your hands into fists and will them to stop shaking. They don’t.

“I suppose,” you begin, looking downward, partially out of the fear of not showing respect and partially out of the way you hate to look at him. “That most people are concerned with dying when they hear you say that.”

Sukuna’s smile widens into a grin.

“And you aren’t concerned with dying, little lamb?”

This conversation might as well take place on a butcher’s block, you think.And you’re the cut of meat trying to convince the butcher to put you back in the freezer.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to die.” You stare down at the ground. He’s taken another step forward, and his shoes--no, Yuji’s shoes--are in your line of vision. “But that is where the question of… spousal intimacy comes in, you see. With a stranger…” You shake your head, feigning distaste. “It’s simply not proper. But with my spouse, well, I would become one with them in a manner far beyond simple matrimony.” You manage a smile, feeble, but hopefully not too fake.

There’s silence, for a moment.

And then there’s a finger on your chin and it feels like cold steel as it tilts your chin up, and you’re forced to look at him, though you keep your eyes averted.

“Aren’t you prim and proper?” He says, low, teasing. “You know,” he says, taking your chin between two fingers, “it was always the prim and proper ones who came the most undone in the past. They were raised to be so uptight…”

He leans in closer. There’s something awful that seems to come with his closeness, a darkness and heaviness that threatens to pull you down to the ground.

He’s going to kiss me, you think. He’s going to kiss me and then rip open my mouth and chew the flesh and--

But he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he lets go of your chin and takes a step back.

You look at him with what must be the loudest confusion in the world on your face. He laughs, and tilts his head back.

“If we’re to be spouses, I intend a traditional courtship first. Kissing comes later. Wouldn’t that be proper?”

There’s hardly any relief to be felt when it’s Yuji, not Sukuna, looking at you.

“Huh?”

#yandere sukuna #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #afterwitch writes

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sunflowerwinds · 2 months

Text

stick ‘n poke | e.w

summary: it’s the first day of the campers arriving and you have a discussion with ellie about tattoos. during the supervised session of the campers doing arts & crafts, she mentions that she knows how to stick ‘n poke and you take her up on the offer. late night tattooing and exposing questions ensue.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: even more flirty!ellie, oblivious!reader, needles and slight bleeding so tw for that, steve being a himbo ally.

word count: 3.6K

a/n: maybe i love this series. comments & reblogs are much much appreciated lovelies <33

under the summer stars masterlist

The first day of the children arriving was more than hectic. More of the staff came the day after everyone else had arrived like the chefs and security for the grounds. Now, the seven camp counselors, including you, stood in a row outside of the main office on the opposite side waiting for the children to come out one by one to sign in with their parents. You recognized a few familiar parents and children but there were always new faces which you loved to see.

Ellie stood on your left while Steve was on your right. The group wore white baseball short-sleeve shirts in blue, green, and red blocking with block letters reading ‘STAFF’ on the back those coordinating colors. You thought they were insanely cute compared to the years before; it was strictly neon but Dina and you begged for something less bright and more flattering.

Thankfully, Tommy, Joel’s brother, and owner of the campgrounds, heard the complaints and had the dress code changed. You forgot every year how exhausting it was trying to reassure sketchy or overprotective parents that their children are safe and are never going to be alone. Etc. You could never blame them considering what people hear a lot about summer camps: specifically slasher-type movies based around the isolation of camps.

There were a lot of kids you recognized from the summers prior, making sure to let them know it, especially the ones that recognized you first.

Once the early crowd came by and huddled into your cafeteria for a complimentary lunch before the parents headed off home, you finally were able to take a breath, turning to the auburn-haired girl with a smile.

“Jesus, I always forget how overstimulating that is. How many parents asked if I was thoroughly CPR trained?” You exasperated to which Ellie threw her arm over your clothed shoulders, tugging you in for a moment.

“Trust me, I get it. Almost every parent asks if I’m even allowed to work here because of my tattoos.” Ellie rolled her eyes and held her arm up to you, turning her wrist from side to side to show you the tattoo. “Like do they think I’m gonna just grab their kid and shove a needle into them?”

You simply chuckle, resting your head on hers. Her thumb rubbed at your shoulder through the fabric causing you to slowly close your eyes with a hum. Every touch from her felt like a stress relief.

“Definitely. They saw tattoos and thought ‘she can definitely do a stick and poke on my child.’” You hum.

“You don’t have any tattoos right?” Ellie questions as her hand moves from your shoulder to your upper back.

You shake your head with a disapproving sigh, trying not to think about how her thumb was now massaging into your tense upper muscles. What the hell was she doing? Trying to send you into a coma?

“I do want some though. They’re just expensive as hell,” you lowered your voice which Ellie hummed in agreement.

“Well, I’m sure when you do you’ll look even better than you already do,” Elise raised her eyebrows at you with a cheeky smirk.

You shrugged her arm off your shoulder and shook your head.

“Shut up,” was the only argument you could come up with as you felt flustered at her comment.

Ellie merely chuckled and held her hands out in defense. “What? You want me to lie and say you’ll look like shit?”

“I didn’t say that, Els,” you look around as she openly cusses without thinking, hoping none of the helicopter parents heard her.

Before Ellie could retort something back, the two of you heard Joel calling the whole group of counselors over. You give her a pointed look before she playfully pushes you along as you walk, making you giggle like an idiot. When you get to where Joel is standing, Ellie’s hand lingers on the middle of your back as he speaks to the entire group.

You couldn’t believe how touchy she was being. Not that you were complaining but you swore years prior she had never been as lingering with her touches with you.

“After everyone is done in the cafeteria, gather your groups so that y’all can go to the cabins and help them unpack. After that, take them to the arts cabin to make their name tags for their bunks and tie-dye their shirts for next Wednesday for the field trip to the Botanical Garden,” Joel reads off his see-through red clipboard.

The group nods as they agree to the set schedule for the day. Once every single parent had said tearful ‘goodbyes’ and ‘love you’s’, your friends began to round up their troopers for their cabin. This was arguably one of your favorite parts of camp; getting to know these adorable children.

One by one, each of the counselors called the names of all 12 of the campers for their assigned cabins. You introduced yourself to the children, smiling at them kindly in hopes they would become comfortable with you. Some of them were more shy than others but that’s usually the case.

“Okay guys, you’re just going to follow me to the cabin where everyone will put your bags down before we head on over to the art cabin. If you have any questions, any at all, do not be afraid to ask me, okay?” You look at the wide-eyed and curious faces before they all agree to your statement.

You reluctantly had to walk away from Ellie and made your way to the cabin, checking to make sure every child was accounted for once you arrived. After about half an hour passed where you explained the basic rules for camp to all the kids, you gathered them to make their way over to the art cabin.

You felt more at ease when you entered the much larger cabin to see the rest of your friend group already having the kids make the name tags. Your campers dispersed once you gave them the ‘okay’ to go and color.

Ellie gradually made her way over to where you were standing, watching over the kids to make sure they weren’t drawing anything inappropriate on their name tags. Her shoulder bumped your own, a brazen grin on her face. Your brows set in a furrow at her fidgety manner.

“What’s up, Els?” You question, turning to her.

“I may or may not have gotten stuff to do stick and pokes,” she lowered her voice, making eye contact with you.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at her words. The children were thankfully distracted by the rest of your friends to even listen to what you two were talking about.

“Where the hell did you get the materials for a stick and poke?” You asked in disbelief.

“Gave Tommy 50 bucks to go and get everything from the grocery store down the street.” Ellie shrugged nonchalantly.

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I could give you one, you know. Free of charge, of course, since it’s your first one.” Ellie added on which really spiked your attention.

The offer was tempting if you were being completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t as if Ellie was a terrible artist; she actually had a bit of talent in that department. She was pretty much the only person here you would trust to do such a thing. On the more selfish side, you could be alone with Ellie.

“Miss Ellie! I need help!” A young boy shouted from across the room.

“Alright, buddy. I’ll be right there,” she called back before turning to you to point a finger in your direction. “Think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly. “I will.”

Content with your response, Ellie jogged over to the boy who had gotten the glue on his face. You internally freak out as your eyes dart around the room. All of your campers were doodling away, chatting amongst each other while you were having a crisis.

You had zoned out so bad, that you didn’t even realize that Steve was now standing next to you.

“Oh, Steve, hi.” You greeted him with a small smile.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back, “I don’t want to seem nosy but is there something going on between you and Ellie?”

You snap your neck before shaking your head furiously, a weird chuckle leaving your lips.

“No! No, absolutely not.” You persisted.

“Okay,” Steve trailed off, “you… like her, though, right?”

You looked at Ellie who was leaning over all of the kids' drawings, commenting on how all of them were ‘sick’ or ‘cool’. It was undeniable.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brows at him.

“Damn. I owe Robs 20 bucks.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. You mouth ‘what?’ to yourself before Steve continued with: “She thought you just liked her and hadn’t told her yet and I thought you two were screwing in secret.”

“And you placed a 20-dollar bet on that?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve said ashamedly. “Robin went on and on about how ‘not everyone is hooking up just because I do’ and how ‘it’s different because it’s two girls’. I understand that but it doesn't mean, you know, two consenting adult women can’t be hooking up too.”

You blink at the flawless-haired man, listening to him ramble. Robin and he had very valid points.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyways because I’m never going to tell her,” you added, shrugging your shoulders as you scanned over the area to see if any of your campers needed help.

This time Steve whipped his head to stare at you.

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I could humiliate myself and lose her as a friend. I know our relationship wouldn’t be the same if I did,” you explained with a long sigh. “She’s not making it any easier either. She asked me if I wanted her to give me a stick and poke tonight.”

Steve whistled playfully before you bumped his shoulder. He scoffed at your annoyed expression before putting his hand up in defense.

“I’m just saying if I know flirting,” he leaned down to mutter to you, “and I think I do, she wants you just as badly as you want her. My personal opinion is to go for it.”

You shake your head at his words but don’t necessarily push the thought away. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Robin and Abby whispering amongst each other. Robin glanced over to where you and Steve were standing before nudging the taller woman.

“You know what’s going on over there?” You lean into Steve with furrowed brows.

“No clue but I think I gotta go. One of my kids just shoved a googly eye up his nose.” Steve patted a hand on your shoulder before speed-walking over to this table full of campers.

To your surprise, none of your children had spoken up once. You jinxed yourself almost immediately as a little girl with dark coily hair pulled into two ponytails raised her hand and waved it around to get your attention.

You make your way over to her, leaning over to lean over her small shoulder.

“Hi, Vanessa. What did you need help on, sweetheart?” You tilt your head and look at her name tag.

“Oh. No, I didn’t need any help. I have a question though,” Vanessa turned in her chair, looking up at you.

“What is it?”

“Are you and Mr. Steve boyfriend-girlfriend?” She pointed her little finger in the direction of Steve tilting the child’s head back to see if he could get the googly eye out.

You awkwardly laughed at her question, scratching underneath your jaw. Kids, from what you’ve learned working at this summer camp, are extremely nosy and have zero filter with their questions. You remember just last summer when a little boy asked you what were the dots on your face: you were breaking out the first week. He was talking about your acne.

“Uh, no. Mr.Steve and I are good friends.” You said slowly. “Boys and girls can be just friends, you know?”

“Oh, well, he’s super cute,” she giggled as she covered her mouth like it was a secret.

The girl had taste but you just didn’t swing that way. You didn’t know what else to say but thankfully, Abby shouted over the conversations to turn in your name tags to their designated counselors so that they could get started on the tie-dye shirts.

You retrieve the hard stock paper from all twelve of your campers before tucking them underneath your clipboard.

“When your group is called, carefully walk up to the front table to grab a white shirt. If you need help picking out a size, ask for help from any of the counselors.” Abby grinned before making her way over to you.

You turn to her with a small smile, nodding your head over to her group of children.

“You doing okay with your kids?” You question, tilting your head up at her.

“Yeah, they’re not too bad but I give it a few days before they start pulling pranks on us.” Abby sighs with a shrug.

You nod sadly, knowing how truly creative these children can get when it comes to pranking. You still can’t stand the smell of a bubble bath.

“Well, you promised to help me prank Ellie so you’re really one to talk,” you raised your brows at her with a soft chuckle.

Abby couldn’t even say anything to you as you were right.

“I meant that, too. I got a few ideas for her.”

A part of you tried to ignore the quite obvious disliking Abby held for Ellie. Her tone triggered you from the first day and their little tense bicker.

“I will, Abs.”

Abby simply smiled before patting your shoulder with her own clipboard. You rolled your eyes playfully as she walked away from you. You catch Robin’s eye and she avoids your gaze almost immediately.

Weird.

“You sure this is safe?” You question for probably the tenth time that night as Ellie dipped the needle into the little plastic cup of ink.

Ellie let out a soft chuckle at your antsiness, reaching over to place a hand on your fidgeting one. You, after a lot of second-guessing, made your way to the cabin next door, making sure to only knock on the counselors’ side to not wake up the children. Every single voice in your head was telling you that you were betraying your one goal you had for this summer but your heart was telling you to spend as much time alone with her as possible.

Your mental and emotional state often collided with one another.

Now here you were in your oversized gray tee and a pair of green pajama shorts that had white shamrocks on them, sitting on her springy mattress as she dipped the disinfected needle into the tattoo ink. Ellie had on her signature black wife pleaser and a pair of boxer-briefs, one singular black glove on her right hand. The dim yellow of the lamp on the small desk was the only source of light in the small room.

“It’ll be okay. Now, it will sting a little bit because, well, it’s ink going into your skin but let me know if you need a break.” Ellie gave you a heads up, scooting in closer to you on her swivel barstool. “You said you just wanted a sun with a swirl in the middle?”

You nod as you watch her place a hand on your knee to steady your shakiness. You were nervous but excited for doing something like this. Outside of the camp, you weren’t someone who left their house often unless it was to eat, for school or when one of your three friends invited you out which you declined most of the time.

“Can we talk about something so that I don’t move a lot and fuck it up?” You nervously chuckle.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath as she began to poke the needle into your skin, causing you to scrunch up your nose at the pain.

“How about you tell me about life back at home? Just tell me everything, you know.” Ellie looked up for a second to give you a reassuring smile.

You mutter a soft ‘okay’ as you close your eyes, gripping onto the thin sheets on the bed.

“I don’t really do much. It’s not that I don’t get opportunities to. I just never have the courage to do a lot in my life so that gives me a lot of free time to read romances even though they make me feel extremely lonely. It’s annoying but I guess I kind of did that to myself,” you sucked in a deep breath when the pressure grew stronger on your upper thigh.

“You’re doing good,” Ellie whispered as she dipped the needle back into the ink cup. Her thumb was gently rubbing underneath the skin where she was placing the tattoo.

Great. Now you’re getting aroused and you’re in pain. A dangerous combination.

“Um, oh, I tried dragon fruit and kiwi for the first time last week. It was in a really big fruit bowl with melon, strawberry, mango, green grapes and pineapple.” You blurt out as you remember how delicious the refreshing bowl was.

“Very summer-y,” Ellie hummed with a cheeky smile as she was finishing up the spiral in the middle.

“I thought so,” you hum, sucking in a deep breath as she wiped a disinfectant wipe over the finished swirl portion to clean up some of the dots of ink and blood resting on your skin.

Ellie sat upright to stretch out her hunched over position, looking at you with a gentle smile. You weakly smiled back as you looked at the swirl, tempted to ask her to just finish there but that would mean going back to your cabin which you really didn’t want to do.

“How’s it looking?” Ellie cleared her throat, twiddling the makeshift ink pen around her fingers.

“It’s so clean. How did you do that?” You ask in genuine shock.

Ellie sheepishly shrugged her shoulders as she scratched at the space behind her ear. You let yourself take a few breaths as you brace yourself for the last bit of the tattoo.

“Okay, I’m good now,” you grin as your hand finds itself gripping onto the sheets once again.

Ellie nodded at your ‘okay’ but her eyes locked on your tight-knuckled hand. She clears her throat before motioning to her knee that was pressing into the metal bed frame.

“You can… put your hand on my knee. Just so you don’t screw up my sheets,” she teases as her eyes flicker to her exposed knee.

You hesitantly release the nylon sheets before carefully placing your hand down on her protruding bone. You held back every urge to rub your thumb on her pale skin just as she had been doing to you this entire time. You did, however, feel the little pricks of hairs that Ellie missed on her knee. You weren’t going to judge her, of course. It was comforting knowing how human she was.

“Is there anyone special back home?” Ellie hummed as she dotted the sunbeams.

Your eyes bulged out of your head. How fucking ironic the girl you had been head over heels for is asking you this question.

“Uh, no, not back home,” you shake your head at her question.

You weren’t technically lying. There was nothing waiting for you at home other than your dads.

“So you don’t have feelings for… anyone at all?” Ellie sounded almost nervous asking you the question.

Suddenly your palm grew hot and sweaty at the on-the-nose question. You could lie and say ‘no’ but your lack of immediate response captured Ellie’s attention. Ellie’s eyes flickered up to you with a shit-eating grin on her pink lips.

“I-I don’t.” You accidentally stutter, making you want to wring your neck right then and there.

“You’re a shit liar,” Ellie scoffed as she wiped off the excess blood and ink. “Who is it?”

“No one. Seriously don’t start,” you let out a strained chuckle.

“Why did you get so tense all of a sudden then?” Ellie quipped.

Well part of it has to do with the fact that I would give anything to have your tongue down my throat, you thought to yourself.

“Nothing. It’s no one and nothing, Els.” You shake your head before motioning to your tattoo. “Aren’t you supposed to be tattooing not being nosy?”

Ellie shook her head with a raise of her eyebrows. “So it is someone?”

You mutter an ‘oh my god’ to yourself before she continues to speak. “If it was really no one, you wouldn’t have called me nosy. I’m just saying.”

God, her sarcastic tone both irritated and comforted you.

“I don’t know. Abby is pretty… cool and sweet.” You blubber out, your word vomit causing your head to ache.

Ellie’s features dropped for a moment at the name. You even felt a nerve in her knee twitch. Why did you say Abby of all people? She pursed her lips before going back to the task at hand.

“Abby?” Ellie hummed. “Really?”

No.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with Abby?” You question the freckled girl, eyes flickering to her furrowed brows.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. You wanted to scoff at her reaction but you simply kept your hand on her knee, allowing her to finish what she started.

“What about…you?” You carefully ask.

“What about me?” Ellie raised her brows.

You sigh. “Do you have anyone special?”

Ellie’s soft green eyes followed up your body to your lips before shaking her head, dismissive of your question.

“No one you know of.”

This needle is digging into your skin and your blood is seeping to the surface but Ellie’s words hurt the most tonight.

tag-list: @abbyshands @ih8chickentenders @elliesprettygirl @justhereforinspopics @be3flow3r @hearts4joongie @plutolovesyou @bready101 @joanvisitsrome @elliewilliamssrealgf @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @shady-lemur @melanie-watermelon @elliescoolerwife @ucannotcompare @sakiigami @shalalala-sana @joordynn @ummlover @thisiscarlatrying

#cherry’s fics!#wlw #sapphic #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x female reader

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catiuskaa · 10 months

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sway with me —bf!minho thoughts.

A/N: the bf!thoughts series is finished! I’m so happy I could finish it. I had so much fun coming up with these lil scenarios. Feel free to check them all out, they’re all linked in my masterlist!

(because everyone loved chan's edition so much and it's really easy to get ot8 brainrot for headcanons and because i love my little bunny boy minho~!)

(this ended up being longer than expected lol)

minho, who’s been training all afternoon inside the company’s practice room. He feels sweaty as he pants, laying on the floor.

minho, who’s so comfortable resting on the wooden floor that doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when the door creaks open, a known silhouette entering with small steps.

minho, who can’t stop a small smile that creeps from the deepest parts of his body when he hears your soft tone of voice call his name, almost in a whisper. “Minho, baby? Are you awake?” For a moment, he pretends to be asleep, and relaxes his body, feeling you move closer to him.

minho, who snickers before lauching his body over yours, rolling on the floor with your body pressed tightly against his, and then stops, smiling from all your giggling when he pins you down.

minho, who gently lowers his head and stays right above yours, almost tempting you to move when he boops your nose with his, then tenderly leaves a shy kiss on your forehead.

minho, who gets too shy after that display of affection that he grins slyly, abruptly letting all his weight on you.

minho, who teasingly refuses to move from on top of you, a childish mockery that you cherish because of how sappy and cute he looks when he wiggles his eyebrows and raises his tone of voice, just like a toddler.

minho, who blushes furiously after you enticingly start peppering his face with kisses, unconciously leaning for more, but then, he reminded himself where you both were.

minho, who quickly rushes back to his feet as you cackle, still on the floor. “Yeah. Reeeeeeally funny.” He mumbles, not being able to cover his red-tinted cheeks or his flustered smile.

minho, who says he has to finish his training. “just one more time, jagi.” He claims, lying through his teeth.

minho, who only wants to dance again because he loves to feel your stare on him as his body moves to the music, smirking at you through the mirror when your cheeks turn slightly pink.

minho, who grins like a fool when you recognize the song and stand up from the sofa, cheeky as you laugh and state that you know this dance better than he does.

minho, who lets you have the spotlight as you laugh, making up moves as you dance, letting the rythm and the melody guide your way.

minnho, who loves to see you dancing anytime, not only because of how good your skills may or may not be, but because how cheerful you look.

minho, who finishes practice and gets home with you with a big smile on his face despite how draining training can get sometimes.

minho, who thinks the best part of the day is when he comes out of the shower and you smile at him, moving your paperwork somewhere else as you start heating up dinner for both of you.

minho, who backhugs you and moves his hand from your waist to underneath your shirt, a move not overly sexual coming from him, but rather one that makes your heart flutter.

minho, who slowly sways your body as he humms, happy that you like dancing and cooking with him, but even happier that you are here with him.

(aish it got so fluffy i almost cried abkdbakdjakd so cute i love minho ajdjajdjkadka —more incomprehensible sounds from cuteness overload—)

#just look at him #HE LOOKS SO GOOD WITH GLASSES #i want to nomnom #HIS SMILE #i cant even #brb swooning #simping #stray kids #stray kids x reader #soft hours #lee minho fluff #stray kids fluff #minho headcanons #lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know headcanons #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines

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casin0table · 2 months

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soo like you guys do realize that a big point in SABM is that, unlike how Ocean has been treating him Ricky is a LOT more than the “disabled boy” who needs to be sheltered 24/7,

the vulgar or sexual ideas and themes that encompass that song aren’t just for comedy nor are they just for shock value, they’re—in my opinion—supposed to highlight Ricky’s capability as a person, from his incredibly elaborate fantasy world, to his ability to grasp and tackle mature themes (both in sex and in war), and his capability to be wise, to see past everything so horrible and love.

Even if his ideas aren’t super perfect or realistic, they are still his work, they are still proof that he isn’t stupid, just like everyone else this song is meant to show that he is so much more than what people see.

In my opinion, it’s really shitty that people tend to dunk on him, infantilize him, or diss him for the nature of his song just because it holds provocative themes in contexts that differ from norm.

Quite literally the opposite of what the song was about, and in a sense what Ride The Cyclone encompasses as a lesson!

Again, yes. RTC is flawed, and I’m willing to admit that. Of course I have bones to pick with it as anyone might. But I’m not gonna keep sitting here listen to anyone say “OHH RICKY IS SO DISGUSTING!” or continue to make him less than what he is, or what he’s supposed to be. Grow up, be better, learn.

#ride the cyclone #ricky potts #rtc #number one Ricky Potts defender mannn

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cheesiedomino · 7 months

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RentABoyfriend.com ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: you’re tired of being single so you to take an unusual route in helping with that— but what happens when you start catching real romantic feelings for your rental boyfriend?

genre: seo changbin x fem!reader | fake relationship/dating au wc: 5.1k tags/warnings: fluff, v minor angst, mild cursing, (kinda) nerdy changbin, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol usage, just overall very cute story dw <33

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“I have a date tomorrow guys.”

Everyone’s head instantly lifts up from their phones at this sudden announcement, collectively drawing their attention at you. You weren’t expecting all of them to gasp and swap such looks of genuine confusion. It’s starting to make you think maybe this situation was a lot more serious than you’ve bargained it out to be.

You couldn’t fathom it either honestly, the realization of you going out with someone probably won’t settle in until you’re physically on the date. Based on their initial responses though, you might regret everything you’re about to say, but it’s far too late to retract any of your statements now.

“No way.. with who??” Danielle is the first out of everyone to ask.

Taehyung chimes in as well, “Yeah, who’s the lucky person? They’ve gotta be something seriously special to be talking to you.”

Well, you suppose you could put it that way.

You already have a preconceived notion of what they’re going to think of this “idea”. Mentally preparing yourself to receive a flood of questions and critique from your close friends.

“Actually… I rented him. For the week.”

Now they’re all looking at you like you’ve officially lost it. The room got scarily quiet, no one wanted to be the first to speak. You should’ve anticipated on their reactions being like this, it isn’t everyday someone just openly admits to buying a partner online. Nowadays there’s a lucrative market for just about anything, when you stumbled upon an ad for this service called ‘RentABoyfriend.com’ you didn’t think much of it. You laughed the concept off at first, thinking how lonely people must be to buy someone else’s time.

But the ads kept popping up, they wouldn’t stop showing in almost every YouTube video you were watching— even one of your favorite YouTubers promoted them before! So one day you finally decided to check this website out, you wanted to see what the hype’s all about so you signed up just for shits and giggles. You weren’t expecting to actually be somewhat interested in trying this thing out, but after going through a couple different profiles and reading hundreds of positive reviews you were practically sold.

“You rented out a boyfriend..? Seriously ___? I mean, I’m not judging but you’re a gorgeous girl you can easily get a boyfriend without paying for someone’s companionship, I don’t see why you need to rent one.” Mark bluntly expressed his opinion, he was probably the most outspoken out of all of you guys.

Taehyung and Danielle both agreed in unison, it’s practically 3 against 1 at this point. You knew you should’ve waited to tell them but you weren’t anticipating on them being this judgmental about it. You were hoping for a little more support, as they’re all way more experienced than you in the dating scene and could lend some helpful advice about your first date, ever.

See, the thing is you’ve never tried dating before so you wouldn’t know the first thing about it or what to expect from your future partner. You’ve never had a boyfriend, let alone held hands or kissed someone of the opposite sex. Being in your twenties it’s kind of embarrassing to say you’ve never done those things, but you thought what better way to try it out than renting a full-on experience that can give you just that? Well minus the kissing part, but you can make it work.

You were skeptical of doing this whole ‘rent-a-boyfriend’ thing at first because you didn’t think there’d be anyone you’d find suitable enough. A big part of the reason that you’re still single is because you’re extremely picky, you want to date a guy who’s so perfect that he must’ve came straight out of an indie romance film. Your friends would tease you for having such unrealistic standards when it came to dating but you were the all-or-nothing type, you’ll be single with fifty cats before you settle for less. Renting a boyfriend is definitely an unconventional idea of easing into dating but you thought it might be worth a try anyway.

What’s the worse that could happen?

( 1 day earlier )

Hovering your cursor over the bold red text of the website, you read over the main rules before going on to select the person you want for your date.

‘The rules are simple:

You are allowed to see only ONE person at a time, if you want to switch boyfriends you’ll have to pay a $50 fee.

MUST be over 18 to rent a boyfriend, we have implemented an age verification system before the date as we do not tolerate anyone under this age to use our services.

NO kissing, or sexual intimacy allowed. If this is found out later on by our agency we will terminate your contract and ban you from using our services in the future.

Remember to have fun !! ^_^ Our services are great for people who are new to dating or have never been in a relationship. We provide the ~ultimate~ boyfriend experience to all our clients. Customer satisfaction is 100% guaranteed ! (NO REFUNDS)’

Well jeez… they seemed a bit strict but you can deal with those rules and restrictions for the most part.

After hours of skimming through hundreds of profiles, you have a hard time choosing which you like most. Did you want an artsy, shy kind of guy? The tattooed, bad boy aesthetic type? You really couldn’t pick one until you stumble upon a particular profile that catches your eye almost immediately.

SEO CHANGBIN | 168 CM | PART-TIME LIFEGUARD | 24 | *POPULAR ↝

5 Facts About Me: I’ve traveled to over 50+ different countries and counting (ask me which my favorites are), I can speak 4 languages (working on my fifth), love to sing and used to have a rap trio with my buddies from college, I can & will easily lift you up ;) also have a secret talent for cooking, there’s nothing I can’t do!

Why Choose Me? First of all, why not choose me? I’m the best candidate for whatever kind of date you need, something casual, social gatherings, weddings, you name it! I’m very social and can make most people laugh (unless they’re the literal Grinch reincarnated), I’m able to get along well with anyone and just love to have a good time. I hope we can get to know each other and make great memories in the future :)

Going through his pictures you couldn’t believe someone was capable of being this humanely attractive. Don’t even get started on those impeccable muscles either… He really had to sport them in every other one of his photos, wearing the tightest shirts to show the outline of his insanely sculpted frame. You might have just been mesmerized from his godlike visuals alone. They even had a Valentine’s Day deluxe package that comes with seven dates in total for half the price, which they specified was for a limited time only.

$600 later you’ve got a full week of dates lined up with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in all your years of living. You should’ve definitely went shopping before considering all this because now you actually have a reason to get dolled up for someone.

You were so nervous about going on this date you almost cancelled last minute out of fear. Typing out several different elaborate paragraphs to Changbin on why you couldn’t make it. You didn’t have his real phone number, it was all through an app facilitated by the rental company that was included in the package. Even though you were feeling overwhelmed and practically shaking with anxiety about meeting up with a guy, you still forced yourself to go anyway. You didn’t just dish out all that money just to not show up and waste his time on top of all that.

Your rental boyfriend texted you the location to meet at, it was near a train station so you both could see each other out in a public open space. The outfit you wore was fairly simple, a black mini skirt with warm tights underneath and a cropped turtleneck sweater. You accessorized the look with some dainty jewelry, a thin scarf, and knee high boots to pull everything together. It wasn’t something you usually wore but you had certain clothes you saved for a special occasion like this.

Upon your arrival, you notice him standing near a vending machine and waves over at you with the biggest smile plastered on his face. You awkwardly wave back, giving a soft smile as you slowly walk up to him. He looks even better in person, you don’t even feel adequate enough to be in such a gorgeous man’s presence. No wonder he’s so popular on the site, he’s practically unreal.

“Hi, you must be ___. It’s so nice to finally meet you, might I add you look really beautiful today, I think you’re making my heart race just by looking at you. Happy Valentine’s Day!” Changbin introduces himself, buttering you up with some sweet compliments before handing you the most insane bouquet of roses you’ve ever seen.

You take the flowers and almost stumble backwards from how heavy they were, “Wow, thank you!” Changbin prevents you from falling, quickly coming up behind you to get your balance back.

“Careful honey, can’t have you injured on our first date!” He voices with concern, “I hope you love the idea I came up with, I’ve only been to this place once before but I’m sure it’s still as fun as I remember it, let’s go!” Eagerly grabbing your hand to begin the journey, he turns around again to examine your body language.

“You seem a little tense babe? Do you need a massage?” He asks in a concerned tone again, this is all really beginning to freak you out. You know this is what you signed up for but this was all starting to feel a bit too personal, all the nicknames and sweet talk he’s giving is just something you aren’t used to.

“Uh, no! It’s o-okay.” You shook your head, denying anything suspicious going on. Truth be told you were barely able to contain your composure right now.

Changbin keeps on insisting, “The massage is included in the package so you don’t have to worry about getting charged extra.”

“N-no it’s okay, really. I’m just nervous that’s all, sorry I just don’t meet up with guys…” you shyly admit, finding it hard to look him in the eye.

He nods in understanding, “No need to be nervous with me sweetheart. I’m here to make you feel as comfortable as possible.” The smile he flashes at you instantly makes you warm on the inside, he seems like a genuine, caring person. You think things might go well for you after all.

The rest of the night was full of only good vibes and laughter by the end of it all. Changbin took you to an adult arcade that had old video games like Pac-Man, Super Mario, and Space Invaders, the other side was a bar where people could sit, drink, and socialize. He bought all your drinks that night, let you use up most of his tokens and overall had the most fun you could’ve ever had with someone. He was so easygoing but also knew when to act super caring and would be all lovey dovey with you. He was gentle, nurturing, and could have conversations about anything. You loved that he’d randomly drop some interesting fact you never knew about, or talked about a certain niche topic that he’d go on multiple rants over. It didn’t feel like you were renting someone out to date you, it felt natural— like you’ve known him for longer than a couple hours. Changbin walked you home and held your hand the entire time, along with the flowers he provided a teddy bear and a heart shaped box of chocolates. If that didn’t scream boyfriend goals then you don’t know what does.

The next day you wake up to Changbin blowing your phone up this morning. You had over 26 messages from him, which was pretty excessive in your humble opinion. The first thing he said was good morning then he goes on to express how fun yesterday was and he can’t wait to do it again. He even sent a couple mirror selfies of him at the gym, ‘conceited much?’ You thought. But then again, if you were Seo Changbin you’d probably be full of yourself too.

For today’s date you wore a pretty red sundress that made your skin glow in the sunlight. It’ll definitely get him to compliment you even more— which you secretly love when he does. Changbin calls you before he heads out to the date, letting you know how excited he is to see you again. You couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot on the train as you made your way to the destination, thinking about what he’s planned for you two next. This time you’ll be meeting up at a park but you still have no clue what you’re doing.

Changbin texts you where exactly he is in the park, it was pretty huge so it took you a while to get to him. As you get closer you see him sitting on a large blanket by the lake, on top of it were a bunch of different foods and snacks scattered all around that came out of a huge picnic basket. You were speed walking at this point trying to get to him. His arms opened out for a hug and you lean right into him, what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly stand up and lift you in his arms to swing around you like a doll.

“Put me down I’m scared of heights!” You squeal out in fear of being too high up in the air. Maybe you really should’ve taken the bio on his profile more seriously when he mentioned certain things.

Finally putting you down after minutes go by of you protesting, Changbin sits you back onto the blanket. He brought an assortment of breads, cheese, fruits, lemonade that he made himself and a couple seltzers. You’ve never seen anyone put such time and effort into a date before, even being here with him is like living in a daydream. He was definitely succeeding in making you feel comfortable, which is something you never thought was possible with men. He actually took his time getting to know you and didn’t sound arrogant whenever he talked about himself, Changbin was so different than other guys who’ve tried hitting on you in the past. He was actually respectful, intelligent, and could easily carry a conversation without long, awkward pauses.

He was literally everything you’re looking for in a guy. But you’ll be seeing him for this week only then it’s bye bye forever. That revelation makes you a little upset, but you try pushing those thoughts in the back of your mind. It’s irrelevant and unnecessary to think about. Yet you can’t help but wonder about certain things though, wanting to know more about his job and what it’s like on a daily basis for him.

“Can I ask you something? I need you to answer it honestly.” You say out of nowhere, hoping that didn’t come out as weird as you thought.

Changbin nods, “of course, shoot.”

“How many clients do you usually get?”

This question definitely catches him off guard, he’s never really been asked this before and he’s debating on if he should as it might be a breach of privacy.

“I don’t think I can answer that, sorry.” He responds in the nicest way possible, but deep down he wants to know why you’d want to know how many other people he sees a day.

You were going to push him a bit more to try and get an answer but you decide to let it go and just enjoy the rest of the picnic. You didn’t want to bring the mood down with your odd questions and/or end up making him feel so uncomfortable that he won’t want to see you anymore. It was definitely something you shouldn’t have asked but you were curious to know anyway. Overall besides that small incident, you had another wonderful time with Changbin and couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come any faster.

Changbin had a foolproof way of getting you to blush like a giddy high school teen whenever he texted you. He’d always refer to you as ‘pretty girl’ or ‘princess’ which gave you insane amount of butterflies. You loved how clingy he could get and would double text when you don’t reply fast enough, always needing constant attention from you which you never minded giving.

He texted you at around three in the afternoon, proposing his next plan for today’s date.

‘Let’s go out for drinks tonight, it’s all on me ;)’

You liked his message, replying that you’ll be there and put a series of hearts at the end. Speaking of hearts, yours is fluttering at high altitudes from the way you can’t stop thinking about your “boyfriend” Changbin. This has been better than anything you could’ve expected, you never want this week to come to an end. It’s only been three days but you’ve begun to grow feelings for him, they weren’t too strong just yet but they were most definitely there. You couldn’t let that halt you from having a good time tonight, you’ll have to accept it soon enough he’s not your actual boyfriend. He’s doing this because you paid him to, if it wasn’t for your money he wouldn’t be here right now.

‘This relationship is purely transactional’ you unfortunately keep reminding yourself of the reality you’re in. Psyching yourself out of this sudden somber mood that’s consuming you, distracting your pessimism by raiding your closet for some cute clothes to wear tonight’s date. After what seemed like hours of tearing your entire room apart, you decide to settle on this sparkly black mini tube dress, pairing it with a leather jacket and more platform shoes because you’re obsessed with feeling tall. Once it’s 7 PM you head out to the bar you’re seeing Changbin at, he was already waiting for you inside the place. Eyes instantly lighting up when he sees you coming towards him, just like he always does he motions for a hug, pulling you in tightly like he hasn’t seen you in years.

His hugs felt so cozy, like sitting in front of the fireplace on a crisp, snowy winter’s evening. You never wanted to escape the warmth of his arms, it was one of those forms of physical touch that felt so overly personal to you. The thought of him hugging someone the same way he hugs you slightly enrages something in your spirit but again, it isn’t your place to get genuinely upset over him doing his job. You’re not entitled to him exclusively, but you feel like if you keep this up feelings will only continue to develop. This wasn’t something you considered when going into this and now you feel like you’ve just made a huge mistake.

“You okay babe?” Changbin notices you acting a bit strange, choosing not to pursue it after telling him you’re fine. He knows something’s wrong but doesn’t want to mess up the flow of the date, instead he orders a drink for the both of you and switches on to a lighter subject. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow at that new centre that just opened last week. I need to buy some new AirPods, I accidentally lost one of them in a taxi..”

“Sure,” you nod at his suggestion, in desperate need of some new clothes anyway. “Sorry about your AirPods, that sucks!”

He takes a sip of his bubbly drink that’s now on the table, “Eh, it’s okay this is probably the fourth time this has happened so far.” This has pretty much become a regular occurrence for him by now.

As the date progresses, things continue getting better. You’re both laughing, engaging in much deeper conversation than ever before. You definitely had more than enough alcohol in your system by now, feeling congested and claustrophobic as more people came into the bar. Changbin takes note of your discomfort and asks if you want to get some fresh air outside, you wasted absolutely no time to agree.

While you two were outside continuing your chat about some wild conspiracy he read about online, Changbin’s attention was soon drawn to a different building nearby. Gazing up in confusion at his sudden outburst of excitement, you wonder where he could be leading you next.

“Noraebang!” He shouts loud enough anyone miles away could’ve heard that, he’s now grabbing your hand to frantically drag you along with him.

You were never one to carry a tune but Changbin was actually very good at karaoke and singing in general, he had such a lovely voice. You could seriously listen to him sing all night— which you basically did since you kept begging for an encore until it hit 4 am. That’s when you both decided to finally call it a night, you wanted to pay for the Uber since he’s paid for all the drinks and every other expenses for today. You felt bad because you were the one renting him to be your boyfriend yet he’s constantly shelling out money left and right. He still insisted on paying and ultimately won the whole debacle, making you swallow your pride and get into the Uber with him. Changbin’s definitely not just someone you’re going to forget about after this week is over. You dread the day this all comes to an end, wishing there was a way to relive these moments again and again.

“I’m a little under the weather today, sorry I can’t make it Binnie.” Your voice is hoarse from coughing and unbearable throat pain. You’ve already consumed half a bag of cough drops, throat lozenges, and random cold medicine you’ve found in your cabinets.

He sounds mildly disappointed, but springs back up with a new proposal, “I can come over and bring some soup if you’d like!”

You appreciate his gesture but still refuse, you know he’s only saying all this because he has to, not because he wants to. “N-no you don’t have to, I’m sure you can go see other clients today. One less person to worry about right?”

The call went silent for a minute, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a deprecating comment.

“I don’t want to see other clients, I want to see you ___.” He sighs, unwilling to give up so easily, “I’ll be at your place soon, m’kay?” He hangs up before you could even respond or say no again.

You had no choice but to wait for Changbin to show up now. Before you got sick, the last two dates you went on were debatably the best so far. You had gone out shopping together, accidentally wearing almost the same kind of outfit. Changbin was wearing a white graphic tee with blue baggy jeans and you wore something practically identical. The two of you looked like a real, official couple and people would stare as you walked hand in hand, it really did seem like the perfect relationship on the outside.

You got even closer when he came over the following day, resulting in you two cuddling while watching movies and baking cookies. He’s expressed that he’s never been to another client’s home before but it wasn’t “technically” against any rules. The more you kept hanging out together, the harder it was coming to terms with the fact you’re actually falling for Changbin. He made every experience with you more exciting than the last, which he did exactly that night. When the cookies were done you fed a piece to him, making little airplane sounds as you do it, he eagerly takes a bite of the chewy treat and compliments both your efforts.

“These taste way better than I thought, oh my god they literally melt in your mouth. Try it!” He takes another cookie from the tray and feeds it to you this time.

There was something so overly domestic about that moment you couldn’t shake the feelings of wanting to kiss him right then and there. But you can’t. If you did such a thing you’d never be allowed to see him again, plus you don’t want to be known as that one creepy client who just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. As you were cuddling on the couch though, things may have taken a turn for the better… or worse?

Changbin would “yawn” at the movie and subtly wrap his arm around you, he’d subconsciously pull you in closer and it didn’t make it any better that you were under the same blanket. You weren’t complaining at any of this though, you were pretty much in heaven. It took everything in you not to look up and stare, gluing your eyes to the movie that was displayed on the TV. But as the night progressed you were practically snuggling up with him like he was your real boyfriend. The way he’d run his fingers gently down your back, soothing you in a way that could lull you asleep. His touch was the most relaxing thing ever, you were so calm with him and loved how he brought a side of you that’s never been shown. After this encounter you can no longer deny the way you feel— you are officially falling deeply in love your rental boyfriend, Seo Changbin.

The sound of your doorbell ringing alarms you of a new visitor, who was none other than your “boyfriend” waiting patiently outside the door for you. You feel and look like death itself, coming downstairs to answer the door still in your PJ’s and hair a disheveled mess. Every five seconds was interrupted with you coughing your lungs out, barely able to speak above a whisper. Changbin looks thrilled as ever to see you, even when you clearly don’t look your best he’s still coming up to hug you tightly. His hugs are always blocking off your airways from the way his muscles squeeze you, it’s even worse when you’re sick— practically gasping for air.

“Sorry babyy, I just missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day and soon as you said you’re sick I dropped everything to go make you this soup. It’s a specialty I make whenever my friends are sick, the perfect remedy to cure my princess.” He goes into your kitchen to heat up the soup in your microwave, making you wait patiently on the couch as you’re wrapped up in multiple blankets.

Your body feels like it’s -2 degrees, you were freezing. The crazy thing is your thermostat was set to 80 degrees, it was definitely you that was the problem. He propped your feet up on the table, rested a tray in your lap and set the bowl of soup on top. Brushing a couple strands of hair out your face he looks at you intently, examining your symptoms as if he’s a doctor.

“It’ll be okay soon love, I’m here to nurse you back to health again. Can’t see my pretty baby sick like this, makes me all sad.” He pouts, giving you a soft head pat like you’re a delicate kitten.

He takes a spoonful of the hot soup, slightly blowing on it before telling you to open up so you can eat. You don’t know what’s gotten into you but you feel like he’s gone too far with all this. It’s not fair for you to continue on if it’s just become torture now. He’s practically dangling in your face that you’ll never have a partner as perfect as him in your life.

“I- I can’t do this anymore Changbin..” you say lowly, refusing to eat the soup he made.

“What do you mean? I’m just feeding you soup, it’s my duty as your boyfriend to-”

“This isn’t real… none of it is. I’m stupid for even doing this but I was lonely.. I’m sorry but I’d prefer something that isn’t temporary.” You cut him off to express your pent up frustrations, ready to be let down and rejected by him as gently as possible.

“Then let’s make it real,” he proposes without any hesitation, “honestly I stopped faking it around our third date, it was all me after that. I never said anything because well… this is my job and I’ve never fallen for a client before so this is still all very new to me..”

You’d be screaming right now if you weren’t sick, instead you’re internally freaking out at this confession, it feels like your hearts doing cartwheels and somersaults.

“Seriously?” Eyes widening as you look at him, suddenly your body heat rises and you know it’s not because of the soup or the layers of blankets that’s covering you.

He nods, “I thought it was kinda obvious when we kissed yesterday..”

Oh yeah… you forgot that did happen. You thought it was another fever dream you might’ve just made up in your head. You shared your first kiss with someone you deemed so special and important to you, someone you never would’ve guessed could come into your life and shift the entirety of your world like magic. There was no one else in existence you wanted more than Changbin.

“Doesn’t that mean you’ll have to quit your job? I don’t want to be the reason you stop making such good income.. I’ll feel so bad.” You knew deep down you didn’t feel that badly about him quitting to date you instead. It was just the thought of him leaving something he’s been doing for years behind all for some girl he’s known for simply a week.

He shrugs at your comment, “I’ll be just fine, I was planning on finding a new job soon anyway. It gets kinda old after a while, I felt like I was on autopilot most of the time. You were able to get me to open up and show my true self, I could never thank you enough for that ___.” Changbin couldn’t resist the urge to plant a kiss to your forehead.

After everything that’s been said and done. What you’ve come to understand is that love is learned, a development that takes time to grow and blossom into something extraordinary. Just like learning a new language or a musical instrument, we learn love from society and cultures we’re raised in, it’s a beautiful thing once we know how to cherish it. Your newfound romance with Changbin is something you’ll learn to cherish forever and ever.

[End <3].

#skz fluff #skz x reader #changbin fluff #seo changbin fluff #stray kids imagines #skz drabbles #changbin x reader #changbin skz #changbin x female reader #seo changbin x reader #stray kids fluff #changbin scenarios #changbin drabbles #changbin imagines #skz au #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines

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avis-writeshq · 11 months

Text

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make.

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases.

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt.

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice.

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum.

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone.

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm.

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?”

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

***

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions.

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you.

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back.

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

***

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground.

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity.

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes.

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer.

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up.

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing.

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby.

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat.

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought.

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch.

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling.

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here.

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin.

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain.

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

***

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring.

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful.

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line.

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up.

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