Tumgik
#every night when I go to say goodnight to her she reminds me to pray and tells me to sleep with angels
lightpost · 9 months
Text
He's the only good morning, he's the only good night.
10 years, 7 months, 2 days. I'm back in my chair same hour same space, same place, nothing's and everything has changed,
he's still in my thoughts to this day, he's wrapped around my soul in made in every fiber of me I'm haunted and blessed, crushed, and something has got me fighting for life of me inside I can feel this battle let go hold on move on forget, run hide, face it, one more day he's in that car, he's the next man that walks in, he's that person in line turn around dam you reminded me of someone I am praying for.
Tears and sadness come so easily now like I'm used to pain and only second of happiness that memories even haunt and hurt even my happy is full of scars because the weight of him gone and being alone all the time while dealing with a closed of vein I'm ready for the blackhole to take me whole.
He told me to have a goodnight and my whole life I can't describe all by the sound, his voice was beautiful like nothing I will ever feel before and no mushroom or tea can compare to his voice that out of this world out of my body experience, that feeling is why I am alive I know it. I am anchored here because of him and I have to prove it to life itself.
What will I do if he's married and has kids? Than he's married and has kids, I'll probably find spot in the woods alone and scream/cry all this pain out than pick myself back up and find ways to be ready to rebuild a new way to love in life, sell everything go back to school, say fuck it go on a road trip and find a random place to start over? I'm not scared of the future cause my past was way scarier, he has no idea about me and 10 years yeah of course he's got a family he's happy the way I need him to be that's all that has mattered me to he has no pain no heartache no longing no missing piece when he's got a bride like her everyday a valentine with him and she knows that I hope
I got 11 years coming up of course I have to remind myself to inhale he's all I think about.
he's my what the fuck happened have a goodnight man that was the best night of my life working and I don't know what life is telling me what's the lesson? what's the guide? why do I still go on when there is no hope? I'm breadcrumbed and teased everywhere I go no matter what, his voice will bring me back to life that's all I need to hear to either let go and finally move on or keep holding on and finally knowing answers..
What's the logical thing to do? what to I do?
0 notes
dusty-22 · 2 years
Text
(Continued) pt2. We went to dinner after and had a great time! It took all the stress away to get to ride and hangout with some great people. With that being said they asked where she was and she probably would have came but she was sick from her Covid shot. So clearly she hasn’t told them. But with that being said I think she still wants me around because she wanted to watch me race last weekend (rained out) (family would have been there) and ride last night. She’s a little flirty but sometimes very vague. I can’t read her but I feel like she’s just being nice and letting me down easy. Maybe it’s for her or maybe it’s for me. I don’t think she’s told her friends that she done with me because one said she’s been trying to go out with us. I said we’re busy and left it at that. Maybe she’s not done but is keeping the option there. Probably a hood or bad thing idk. I’ve only told my close friends because I couldn’t keep it inside. They all said something different but they all know I’m waiting for her. Every sad country and rock song remind me of her. Idk what to do because I’m lost. I’m the best when I’m with her. She came out of nowhere. I wasn’t looking and she came into my life. I played hard to get until I let her have it. She says it made me an asshole but I was protecting my heart from the end result. Maybe if I didn’t make her mad that one day at the bonfire then it would have been right and worked perfectly. We didn’t talk for a few weeks and then she walked back into my life. I feel like I fucked up too many times and she didn’t want to deal with my issues. All I ask is that God gives her the strength to give me another chance. Idk if she was lying about everything she said but I do believe it all because what we had was love. But you don’t just give up on that. I just pray she finds that peace in her and wants to love me 100%. Maybe in a month or two I’ll see the full picture. It seems like time is healing her and I but idk. No good mornings no goodnights just feel odd. It’s just a continuous conversation and long replies. I feel like im showing her I’m still here and maybe that’s pushing her away because girls want what they can’t have but I don’t want to just walk away and make it seem like that. I don’t play games. I just would rather be straight up. Maybe I should have said it’s me now or me never but I didn’t because I couldn’t do that to her. Maybe I was just meant to be her friend and she fell in love on accident. Idk I just pray she doesn’t run back to the idiot she left twice before. I just pray I’ll find out what’s going on in the coming months. It’s hard to just not want to call and say I love you. I hope I can continue to be okay for now but I still have times where I just want to hold her and care for her. But I’m reality it’s me who needs to be held and cared for. I hope I wasn’t weak and that’s why she walked away. Not knowing what’s going on is killing me. The thing that keeps me going is knowing there’s still a chance. There might not be but I feel like there is. I don’t even want to talk to her because non of it feels like a real conversation. I don’t hear her voice and can’t see her so I’m just talking to a screen. It’s just not right. I still have stuff in my house from her and I think that’s the last straw of keeping the hope alive. Maybe not for her but for me. Who knows maybe soon I’ll know what’s up. A lot of this is random. All my thoughts I needed out so I didn’t talk to anyone about it. No one wants to her this shit. Even my best friends who I don’t even want to be around.
0 notes
Text
Quick guys I need a funny post for my Hetalia ask blog
#not actually#I just really wanted to chat with myself in my tags#by chat I mean talk about my grandma lmfao she’s the best I just wanna express it somewhere ya know?#it’s very nice#I like it a lot honestly but I haven’t been doing it a lot which makes me upset because as soon as I post it I think of things for the tags#sucks to be me then but still#my grandma and sister made bread today#and my grandma is always like ‘shush we’re making bread’ and I think I’ve mentioned it before but she’s very strong In her belief in that#so obviously we do too (we being me and my siblings lol)#she’s the best honestly#I love her so much man I could never fully express to her how much I love her with words because that would do it an injustice#did you know she had 11 siblings? I didn’t up until a week or two or three ago#she also used to live in Chicago! it’s very cool#she makes very good food which is delicious every time everybody I know likes my grandmas cooking mmm very good cooking#i like the soup she makes it’s very good#she’s very religious too#every night when I go to say goodnight to her she reminds me to pray and tells me to sleep with angels#which you could totally interpret as like a creative way to say ‘go die’ but no she doesn’t mean it like that#pfft I’m her favorite too ✋😌 she gave me a full starburst candy thing and my brother got so jealous#try being the favorite like me smh 🙄#she even says I’m her favorite lmfao#I’m just flexing at this point but still#in like a few months or later this year she’s going to move out of our house though#she’s going to move 4 hours away to where I was born and where my grandpa is buried#though I’d be sad about it it’s alright becuase I know she’d be happy because she’ll have her brother and sister there with her :DD#we used to visit there every like month but then we stopped because of Covid yk#it’s also kinda dangerous but Oh yeah I was gonna talk about my bed ok so#I took everything off it right? ok we put two blankets down then a giant pillow#then this one Chewbacca squishmellow I got then normal pillow on the side for my cat to lay on#then pillows at the side of my bed too (it’s a corner bed) and I put all of my stuffed animals right in the middle
12 notes · View notes
hajimeiwaswife · 3 years
Text
THE WAY I LOVED YOU
Tumblr media
Word count: 4,2K
Wanings: angst (but fluff, too)
Summary: You weren't over the love Childe provided you, even when you were engaged to Albedo years later.
A blue, pink and mauve sky garnished the surroundings of the Stormbearer Mountains. The summery breeze, warm as the light of the bright sun, comforted those who walked along the path of fallen leaves, wild flowers and the smell of mint. A beautiful landscape presented itself for sore eyes to see.
A certain Alchemist was working on his new masterpiece, relaxing under the few rays of light that came with dusk, painting the one he considered the most beautiful person to ever put a foot on Teyvat. Mixing the colours of nature, he portraited on the sketch book the view he had of his fiancée and the scenery, all of it worthy of a cheesy romance novel and a fantasy book.
"How much time do you need?" Y/N asked in a tired tone, trying not to shift her position, "I'm getting crumps on my face from smiling."
The man didn't answer at the moment, considering for a brief time her question and filling a space on the page that still needed his attention. At last, he looked at her and smiled at the image he had the honour of witnessing. The girl, dressed in a summer white and blue dress, was slightly pouting at the lack of talking from his part. Her hair danced with the wind and he thanked Barbatos for letting him see her golden locks fly around her face.
"Just a little more, my love," he answered, his attention shifting back to the drawing in front of him.
"You said that an hour ago," the girl sighed, putting a smile again on her face so she didn't disrupt her lover from painting her, "I thought you wanted to go see Sucrose before the sun came down. Oh! And also, you promised Klee you'd visit her."
He hummed, immersed in the way her features took a hardened expression when she tried to remember something that needed to be done. Brows furrowed and fore finger on her right cheek, she looked at him in search of a comment from the Alchemist.
"Albedo! Are you listening to me?"
"You're so beautiful." mumbled the man, lost in her and the blush that was forming on her visage.
Shameless and, at the same time, honest and shy. That was Albedo, the one she was engaged to. Such an honourable and good man, someone who loved her as much as the Sea loved its waves, as much as the birds loved the Wind, as much as a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire. He gave her his everything and from the bottom of his own person, and she was grateful for it.
"I'm sorry" he promptly said, coughing on his palm to hide the evident embarrassment he felt, "It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."
At that, she couldn't help but laugh. He was such a beautiful person, always searching her comfort and well-being before anyone else's, always taking care of her and looking for her. A pure soul, she would venture to affirm.
"Don't be silly, sweetheart," Y/N chuckled, positioning once again for him to portray her, "you know I love it when you compliment me. Now, c'mon, finish before the sun falls."
"As you wish."
One more hour of dirtying their hands in paint and observing the marvellous dusk that came upon them, they left to visit Sucrose, who was willing to tell Albedo about her advances in the research they both were working on.
"That's impressive, Sucrose," Albedo praised the girl, reading the documents and correcting those things he found could be improved.
Y/N turned off the conversation, not really interested in the depths of the Alchemy. She respected what the husband to be and her friend did for a life and she couldn't be prouder, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear the endless conversations about properties a flower could have.
After saying goodbye to the little Alchemist, they both headed to say hello to little Klee, who was mad at them for coming so late, it was already her time for bed and, as she said, 'We can't go bomb fishing!', followed by a 'Do you not love Klee?' Reassuring the little bomb crazy kid was more draining than she could imagine, but she did it for Albedo, nonetheless.
The afternoon turned into the late hours of the night, lilac sky was now dark and adorned with stars. The Alchemist had intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, sighing in content, allowing himself to relax at the warmth of her hand and the serenity reigning in Mondstadt.
"Maybe we should head home, you seem exhausted," commented Albedo after watching his fiancée yawn for the third time in ten minutes.
"That would be great, actually." Y/N yawned again, gaining a quiet chuckle from the man next to her.
No one talked again, everything already said until the moment to bid goodnight when they laid in bed. Albedo, being the reserved man he was, kept himself in his side of the bed, not too confident to spoon his girl still.
The silence was only accompanied by Albedo's soft snores. Darkness decorated the walls of the room in the AM. The sense of being trapped growing inside Y/N as she thought of the implications of her new life. She was engaged to an incredible man, who told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her every single day; who went with her on strolls and made her laugh; who could teach her more than she could ever imagine; who appreciated her as she was.
Still, she felt nothing. At all.
She liked Albedo, that was clear. Who wouldn't like Albedo? He was the perfect man. On more than one occasion, Y/N had Amber and Barbara drooling about how lucky she was to be with someone like him. She knew she was the luckiest girl in Teyvat, most women simped over Diluc or Albedo. But, at the same time, she only felt guilt for being with him without actually loving him.
Anxiety growing on her, she decided to stand up. She walked out of the room, being careful not to disrupt Albedo's sleep, and headed to the transport point, she needed to be away from any form of human activity, she felt like shouting and hitting the first thing she could see. Breathing becoming a very tedious task as she approached the device, opting to go to Mt. Aocang. If she was going to wake someone up, she preferred an Adeptus who wouldn't ask more than any nosy human.
The wind, colder than that afternoon, calmed her to the point her lungs could take the oxygen she had been trying to get for minutes. The orange leaves obscured by the night reminded her of the hair she used to love so much. The hair of that man she had once despised, then loved, and then lost.
He, who claimed to be brave enough to enter her heart, had been the one to take it and keep it even until those days. Y/N noticed how her breathing became irregular again, she was used to it, every time she thought about the Harbinger. That repulsive, irresponsible, dishonest, cunning, intelligent and breath-taking man she couldn't forget. How had she let it come so far?
Albedo gave her everything, yet her heart yearned Childe's love. How pathetic.
"Fuck you, Childe!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring for the Adepti, not caring for those who could hear her cursing the Harbinger Tartaglia at 2 a.m. a Thursday night. "You ruined me, you motherfucker!"
So many fights, so many make outs, so much love making, so many nights under the stars trying to comprehend their feelings for the other. All of that for nothing. Like the bitter cold of Snezhnaya they froze, their hearts on their sleeves, light that came from the satellite above turned off.
"You know, sometimes I feel like you don't like me that much." she remembered him saying, his characteristic smirk on his face, "It's true we had our... abrasions, but girlie, c'mon, don't be so stiff."
She could clearly see in her mind how his hands came to her waist, grabbing her in a gentle but at the same time rough grip. A shivered down her spine, in the present and in the pass, and she was sure she would feel it in the future, too.
"How am I supposed to trust you, Harbinger?" she had said, crossing her arms after pulling away from him.
"Easy, trusting me."
And she did. She felt like a fool for allowing him to be so near, to had felt love from him, for loving him.
"Are you feeling okay? You look pale, my love," Albedo commented, a hand of his on the forehead of his lover, a worried expression on his face.
"Yes, Albedo, don't worry, I didn't sleep too well last night," Y/N reassured him, smiling slightly at her fiancé.
The Alchemist hummed, nodding to himself and returning to his work. The girl had returned to their room after a couple of hours in Mt. Aocang, praying for Albedo to not had noticed her absence. Apparently, he didn't. Had he noticed he would had already asked about it, or so she thought.
"I was thinking about visiting Liyue today, there are some materials there I need for my research," Albedo said after some minutes, looking at her, "I was wondering if you'd like to come."
Y/N's heart dropped. She had to say yes, how could she say no to Albedo? He wanted to spend time with her while still working, an effort she really appreciated. But, going to Liyue? What if he was there? Strolling those streets the two of them had travelled a thousand times.
But his gaze was still on her, waiting patiently for a reply. Doubtfully, she considered all her options: not going and upsetting Albedo; going and crossing him; going and being unable to continue due to the memories. No option was good, she had to choose between her fiancé's well-being and hers. 'He's made so any sacrifices for me'.
"I would love to, love."
Merchants selling, people buying, contracts being signed. That was Liyue in all its glory. Red, green and blue being the most recurrent colour themes on the walls, roofs and gardens, a gift to anyone who wanted to visit a paradise.
Albedo was buying some materials while Y/N stood next to him, not looking at anyone's face in case Childe decided to make one of his classic appearances. She grabbed Albedo's sleeve as a way to comfort herself, reassuring one time and one time again that she didn't have that much of bad luck to cross him in such a huge city.
She turned her head to look around at last, brave to see the stores and Liyue's people. Many of them knew who she was, having helped most of them at least in one occasion, great people with beautiful and peaceful lives. She had that now, at Albedo's side. But why did she feel like it wasn't what she wanted?
The red mask in one of the stalls froze her in her place, it looked identical to Childe's. She knew it wasn't his, of course, he was too involved in the Fatui and too wealthy to pledge his mask, but it made her remember him and one of the many memories she had with him in Liyue, again.
"Girlie, don't be like that" Childe exclaimed, smiling at her with bravado, "You don't have to feign you don't want that bracelet."
"I don't want it," repeated her for the third time, growing irritated.
"I have enough money to buy it for you, darling," the Harbinger insisted, taking her left hand in one of his and kissing her knuckles.
"How charming," she murmured ironically, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand out of his grasp.
"I know," he smirked, going after her, "and I also know how much you love when I act like a gentleman."
"How would you know that if you've never acted like one?" she snorted, watching his expression turn into an offended one.
"I'm a gentleman, you just can't appreciate my efforts to woo you," he replied with a pout.
"Aw, little Childe can't take a no for an answer," Y/N continued to tease him, smiling slightly at his spoiled brat's act.
"Very well, little lady, you're not having that bracelet," he stamped and turn away from her, walking without a real direction.
"Not that I wanted it!" she shouted at the distance.
Needless to say, she found the bracelet in her purse that night with a cheesy note that claimed 'To my favourite and stubborn traveller, with love, Childe'.
She still had it in her wrist, accompanying her wherever she went, reminding her of the stupid man that gifted it to her. Golden with Snezhnaya patterns, orange jewelry decorating the surface of the material. Albedo never said anything about it, never asked, and she was grateful for it, he knew to respect her space.
Her fiancé had just finished purchasing what he needed, looking at her with a loving gaze. She felt nothing, only appreciation, and she felt awful for not returning his feelings at their best, he deserved to be loved and spoiled. However, she missed him, she missed what they had.
The grey sky announced the storm that was coming, thunder and lightning appearing to give a performance of nature power. She had fought, walked, ran and danced in rain. She had danced, kissed and loved. But nothing of it with Albedo.
"Now a step to the left" instructed Childe, grabbing her waist with his left hand and her hand with his right one, "and now turn around... That's it! Perfect! You're a natural."
"Stop lying," she laughed, following what he was saying and dancing with him in a forgotten valley in some old ruins, "I can't dance for the love of Barbatos."
"I think you're really good, almost seductive," he purred, kissing her jaw and going down her neck, "seeing you move your hips like that just" an animalistic growl came from the back of his throat.
"Okay, calm down big guy, we're not fucking here."
The sound of thunder interrupted his reply, confusing them both for a moment. Suddenly, rain poured and soaked them wet. Y/N looked for somewhere they could go to shelter from the storm, but Childe just laughed and started making her dance again.
"What the hell are you doing, pee-brain!" she exclaimed, desperate.
"Dancing with you under the rain. Isn't it romantic?" he asked, smug as always.
"Romantic until we catch a hypothermia."
He didn't budge. Swaying them both with the dark landscape behind them, leaves flying around, wind aggressive. But nothing mattered as they looked at each other; love, affection and lust hidden in their souls, wanting nothing more than to indulge to the other and become one. How can anyone love this much? How can feelings root that deep? Childe was the only answer to those questions.
With nothing but a soft caress to her cheek, he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her while the rain accentuated the wet sounds. Everything with him was wild, but so addictive she couldn't help but coming undone, indulging to everything he asked silently from her. A kiss in the rain never felt so good.
"I'll be right back, I just need to drop this at Mingxing Jewelry," Albedo said, giving her a peck before leaving.
She stood there for a few moments, wondering what she could do white she waited for her lover. The rain was nearing Liyue Harbor, Albedo had told her he needed to do a couple of things more before going to the transport point to return home. She felt like throwing up, not a single spot in the city did not remind her of the love of her life, including their ugliest moments as a couple.
"How could you!?" Y/N screamed, feeling completely devastated and deceived.
"I had to! I'm sorry, okay?"
"No! It's not okay!" his indifference was breaking her heart, looking at him with disappointment, "Again! You did it again!"
"I was ordered to!" he shouted, his voice the same tone as hers, wrath in his eyes, "I have a job and you knew about it when you decided to fuck me!"
"What the hell, Childe!" she cried, "First of all, you nearly destroy Liyue! Again! Not only once but twice!" she was tired, everything was going down in front of her and she didn't want to watch it come to ruins, "And fuck you? You mean love you?"
"Love, sex, everything's the same, isn't it?" he replied, calmer and returning to his indifferent tone.
"W-what do you mean?" the fuming storm stopped to bring an eye of the hurricane, waiting patiently to unleash the tsunami over them.
"What you heard; I don't find a difference between the two concepts."
"You're lying," she murmured, unbelieving. How could he say that when an hour ago he was looking at her with so much love? Was it all an act? No, you can't feign feelings so deep.
"You're just too fool to see it, girlie," his smirk appeared, making her shake in fear, fear of losing what she cared about, "confusing terms and assuming things without asking."
"You're lying." she repeated, more to herself than for him to hear. He sighed, as if he was done with her.
"Think what you want. Now, there are people waiting for me. Until next time, girlie."
The shattering of her heart served up as the soundtrack of his departure. The leaves that had been once so vibrant and full of colour now danced around her in muted tones, mocking her. That was it, the end of their love. The palace the resembled their union fell into pieces, she needed to let go of him. The words he said cut deeper than a knife, made her feel cold. But how could she let go if she still loved him?
"So now you're with the Alchemist," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, making her turn to the source of it.
There he was. Orange hair and piercing blue eyes. His smirk wasn't present in the portray he displayed of himself, walking as the noble man he said he was. Her heart raced for the first time in years, asking her for indulgence, for permission to feel.
"Yes," was the first thing she said after some minutes processing what was happening. Childe was there, in front of her, "yes, I'm with Albedo."
"I see," he commented, uninterested. She thought that was all the interaction they would have, that he would go away again and leave her live her life, but she had to know better, "even if you can't forget me, you allow yourself to be with someone else?"
"What is it to you?" Y/N felt offended, who did he think he was to reprimand her in such a dirty way? He couldn't know she wasn't over him, could he?
"It's unfair for both of you. You see, love shouldn't feel like you owe something to someone just because they love you." Childe said, his gaze falling at the bracelet for a couple of seconds before looking at the landscape, "You're fooling him and yourself."
"And what would you know about love?" the question came in a bitter tone. She was angry, how dare he talk about love when he did her so wrong? When he hurt her so much?
"Touché." Childe gave her a sincere smile that reached his eyes, it was breath-taking. Y/N felt her stomach twirl and her heart jump at the sight of such a beautiful scenario, "Glad to see you well, Y/N. See ya!"
And like that, he left the place as if he hadn't turned her world around again. She missed him, she admitted to herself that she missed him. She missed his wild nature, his odd conversations, the mystery wrapping around him. She couldn't forgive him, but she couldn't live without him, either. That's the way she loved him.
Once Albedo returned from his errands, they both went to the transport point to return to Mondstadt. The way back was silent, but not a comfortable one as they always had, there was some tension lingering in between them. She wanted to attribute it to the tension she had been carrying since her encounter with Childe, but deep down she knew there was something else.
When they entered their house, they both changed into their sleeping garments without sharing a word, waiting for the other to be the first one to break the silence. Y/N didn't have it in her to be the brave one in the situation at hand, so, finally, Albedo spoke.
"I know you're not over him," he said, calmly, but there was jealousy in his tone.
She was surprised to hear him say those words. She never mentioned Childe before, less being in a relationship with him. She wanted to feel fear, the same one she felt when her argument with Childe broke them apart, but she felt nothing at all. Why? Why couldn't she be in love with a man life him?
"What?"
"You know what I'm talking about, Y/N." Albedo sighed, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.
"B-but", she stuttered, searching for words, "H-how do you know...?"
"There were rumours... some years ago, about the 'traveller' being with one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. It was during your time at Liyue."
She nodded, understanding, but really not understanding anything, "Did you believe them?"
"I can't say yes, but I can't say no, either." Albedo looked at her, he didn't look angry, and that made her feel a little bit better. "I just couldn't know if it was true or not because I wasn't there."
"I see." another moment of silence followed. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes, "Why do you say that I'm not over him, though?"
"There are so many signs, you aren't the subtlest person, love." he chuckled, "The bracelet has Snezhnaya patterns and you haven't taken it out in all these years. I can only assume it was a present from Tartaglia."
Y/N nodded again, impressed with how observant Albedo was and with his deduction skills. She wished for the hundredth time that day that she would have fell in love with him and not with the Harbinger.
"I'm so sorry-" she began, but was quickly interrupted by her fiancé.
"Don't." he commanded, "That's not the only thing that gave you away."
"What do you mean?"
"Your late night trips."
'He knew' she thought, searching for any clues that could tell her when he had discovered it, but there were none. 'He has known all this time.'
"Why haven't you said anything?" she asked.
"I wanted to give you space," he began, "I must admit, however, that at first I thought you were cheating on me."
"I would never-" she was interrupted again, a kind gaze on his eyes.
"I know, I know. I realized when you came home smelling like grass and mint and not with the cologne of another man."
It was silent again, Y/N tried to find anything she could say to make him feel better, but she couldn't even understand himself. Why isn't she feeling her heart shattering? She knew why, but she didn't want to indulge in that feeling.
"I'm so sorry, Albedo. I really am."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not." those words sounded identical to the ones she had directed to Childe once upon a time.
"I am aware that you don't love me the way I love you."
"Albedo-"
"But it's okay, I can love both of us enough to fill that gap."
She was at a loss of words. Had she heard it right? What did he mean? Albedo was so calm, so ethereal, looking at her fondly even when he knew she didn't feel the same. He was going to marry a woman that didn't want him the same way she wanted her. And even though he was aware of that, he was smiling.
"Why?" she wondered out loud.
"Because that's how it works, that's the way I love you, until you can return my feelings."
The leaves that danced aggressively at the other side of the window stayed still, processing the scene going on in the room of the Alchemist and the Traveller. Their colour coming back to a vibrant one, giving her hope of being able to love again, to feel something.
Her love with Childe was like the Sun and the Moon, so in love they were crazy for each other, but impossible and unworkable. But, Albedo loved her like the Sea loved its waves, like the birds loved the Wind, like a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire, and she was going to return it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she would. And when she did, she would love him as much as the Leaves loved their trees, as much as the Lake loved the rain that floods it, as much as the Horizon loved dusk.
She bid goodbye to Childe that night, leaving the bracelet in the drawer in her nightstand. Adorning her hand only was the ring Albedo had gifted her.
"See you, Childe," she murmured at 2 a.m. before falling in her slumber.
88 notes · View notes
spider6oy · 4 years
Text
Details || JJ Maybank
Tumblr media
summary: Y/N has a crush on JJ, but he has no idea about it. Instead of confronting him and telling him, she has to suffer and listen to him brag about his hookups/watch him flirt with random tourons until she can’t anymore and ends up distancing herself from JJ. basically this is inspired by maisie peters’ song ‘details’, so i would recommend giving that a listen whilst you read this because that song would describe this better than i can.
warnings: swearing, under-age drinking, angst (if that’s even what you can call this)
word count: 2430
“Well, well, well. . . look at what the cat dragged in.” Kiara commented as she took a sip from her bottle of beer, catching the Pogues’ attention and turning it towards the blonde fast approaching the porch.
“JJ, what was the hold up, man? Didn’t we say to meet for ten?” Pope questioned, leaning against the railing.
You watched as JJ walked up the steps of The Chateau with a smirk tugging at his lips. You couldn’t help but catch glimpses of dark red bruises that started at the top of his neck and disappeared under the collar of his shirt, his blonde hair seemed shaggier than usual – as if someone had been running their fingers through it continuously and he was wearing the exact same clothes that he had been wearing the day before.
He had hooked up.
“Yeah, sorry guys, but I got a bit held up. . . if you know what I mean?” He sent the group a suggestive look that had Pope and John B hooting and hollering, congratulating the boy, but you were far from jovial.
You had been crushing on JJ since December of last year. You had always been close with him, ever since you were kids. You, JJ, and John B had been the core-3 until Pope and Kiara had joined the Pogues. But you had always been closer to JJ. You had put it down to the fact that you practically told each other everything; dreams, nightmares, future plans, current plans. There were no secrets between you two. That’s what had made the bond between you two so strong and unbreakable. Well, that was until your heart decided to latch itself onto JJ and never let go.
Ever since you had developed your crush on JJ, a rift had erupted between the two of you and you both could tell. You hung out with each other less; JJ was either with John B or some random Touron and you were either in your room (alone) or with Kie. You talked less; you couldn’t remember a time where you hadn’t had a goodnight or good morning message from JJ. Finally, you didn’t share your secrets. But, how could you? How could you tell JJ that you had a crush on him? How could you tell the boy you had known practically your whole life that you were in love with him? You couldn’t. You had decided that from the beginning.
You had gone over this conversation so many times in your head and you always came up with the same answers. One; No Pogue on Pogue macking. Two; It could (and would) potentially ruin the friendship. And three; He probably wouldn’t feel the same – that was the deal breaker. And it didn’t matter how many times Kiara would tell you that JJ felt the same, and that you should go for it, because in your mind he could never possibly feel the same way. If he did, why would he still be sleeping with other people?
“Oh my gosh, Bro, you should have seen her though. Like, when I tell you she was into some freaky shit—I mean, she was into some freaky shit. . .” You couldn’t listen anymore.
You turn towards Kie, who was sat next to you, and it seemed she already knew what you were thinking. She gives your arm a sympathetic squeeze and tells you that she would call you tomorrow, sending you a supportive smile. You try and smile back, but you know it probably looks forced.
As you stand from the bench, all eyes seem to land on your frame.
“Hey, are you leaving? We haven’t even gone fishing yet?” John B questioned, confused.
“Yeah, you can’t leave, I haven’t even gotten to the best part!” JJ added – which made you just want to burst into flames right there on the spot.
You tried to play it cool, rolling your eyes lightly and pushing the strap of your bag higher up onto your shoulder. “And I would so love to hear that, JJ, but I just remembered that I was meant to be helping my Dad with something today, and just completely forgot. I’m really sorry guys, but I promise I’ll make up for it.” You shot them all apologetic glances and quickly made your way down the steps of The Chateau, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and cry yourself to sleep.
-
It was a Friday night and the Pogues were throwing a kegger. You were currently sat on a log next to Kiara, laughing at something Pope had said, and were taking large sips from your cup of beer. “Okay, okay listen. Looking back on it now, being on the math team may have put me at a disadvantage in some perspectives--”
“Some? More like all, Pope.” Kiara argued, a laugh slipping from between her lips.
“Well, what if we had to suddenly solve an algebra equation?” Pope countered, gesturing with his hands, as if they could argue for him.
“Why would we need to suddenly solve an algebra problem? When would that ever happen?” Kiara bartered back.
You couldn’t help but giggle from your perspective of the conversation. The pair seemed to be becoming more engrossed in the argument as time went on and you couldn’t help but think that maybe they would make a cute couple – if they would stop arguing for 5 seconds. You continued to drink, laugh, and basically have a good time, until JJ showed up. With a girl.
“Hey guys, what’s going on?” JJ asked as he sat down on a log opposite from you, bringing the girl down to sit on his lap. The taste of the beer in your mouth quickly began to turn sour and you suddenly had the urge to throw up.
“Hey JJ, who’s your. . . friend?” Kie questioned, subtly shifting closer towards you as a sign of comfort. Your grip on the red plastic cup tightened, almost to the point of crushing it, as you watched JJ squeeze the girls’ side – who you learnt was called Jessica.
It hurt. It hurt like hell watching as JJ acted so affectionately towards this random Touron; who he would no doubt forget about by this time tomorrow. You watched as he whispered unheard words into her ear, eliciting small giggles and flirtatious smiles from Jessica. You watched as his hand seemed to rest on the bare skin of her thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles into the skin. You watched as he stared at the girl with hunger and lust filled eyes, probably wanting nothing more than to leave the party and take her back to The Chateau. You watched every single small movement and action, feeling like your heart was tearing apart bit by bit as you continued to witness their displays of affection. All you could think about was how much you wanted to be that girl sat on JJ’s lap, wanting him to be holding you protectively and whispering sweet nothings into your ears.
You finally tore your gaze away from the couple and turned towards Kie, tears already brimming in your eyes. “Hey, Kie, I gotta—I gotta go. I just. . . I can’t stay and watch, y’know?” Your voice was a whisper, but the painful tone you used was clear as day.
Kiara nodded and gave your hand a small squeeze, “Yeah, I understand Y/N. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” You sent Kiara one last pitiful smile before standing from your spot on the log.
“Wait Y/N, are you leaving already?” You stopped at the sound of JJ’s questioning tone. You nod at him, somehow not having the confidence in yourself to speak; unsure of how your voice would come out. You didn’t want to let everyone know that you were practically on the edge of a full-blown meltdown. “But the party has barely even started? You can’t be drunk already?” You roll your eyes (silently praying that a tear wouldn’t slip out) and stifle a laugh.
“Just feeling a bit off is all JJ, must have been a bad keg, or something.” You hoped that JJ didn’t notice the lie. He used to be able to tell whenever you were lying, it was easy as breathing to him. It was just another way that showed how close you two were. You couldn’t lie to each other. But recently your lies were not being questioned, instead being taken as the truth.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?” You didn’t stay to wait for a response. Instead, you turned on your heel and headed for the road that lead you away from The Chateau.
-
You wiped the stream of tears falling down your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. You had left The Chateau about 10 minutes ago and had done nothing but cried as you continued to walk home. Your sobs and sniffles seemed to echo in the quiet night, easily alerting anyone around you that you were crying. You were hopeful that no one was around. You had to continually remind yourself that everyone was down by The Chateau, and that no one would be able to hear your cries from here.
“Y/N? Hey, Y/N!”
Scratch that, one person could hear your cries. Possibly the last person you would want to catch you crying.
At the sound of JJ’s fast approaching footsteps; you quickly wiped at your face, trying to rid yourself of all your tears (and any possible hint that you had been crying). You turned around to see him jogging the last few steps – no Jessica in sight. You wiped your nose as JJ came to stand a few feet away from you, hands instantly going into the pockets of his shorts. “Hey, what was that back there?” You shrugged your shoulders and silently fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt.
“I thought I told you? I’m just feeling a bit off.” You answered, staring at the ground in front of you.
“Yeah, ‘off’ is one way of putting it.” JJ remarked, kicking a random stone with his boot.
You looked up from the floor and sent him a confused look, “What’s that supposed to mean, JJ?” He scoffed as he finally looked towards you.
You prayed that the lack of light camouflaged your red and puffy eyes.
“Are you seriously going to play dumb with me right now, Y/N? Me, of all people?” You could hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, even the slight wobble that clung to the ends of his words. You nervously bit at your lip, trying to drag your eyes away from his but you couldn’t. “We both know something has been off between us recently. I don’t know when it started, and frankly I don’t care. All I care about is the fact that my best friend is pulling away from me and I need to know why?” His voice was almost at a shout now, all of his emotions seeming to get the better of him. You stood there silent; knowing what to say but not wanting to say it. “Why, Y/N?!” JJ was shouting now.
“I don’t want to talk about, okay?” You retorted, tears beginning to fall once again.
JJ dragged a hand through his hair in frustration, taking a step towards you. “No, that’s not ‘okay’ Y/N. It’s completely not ‘okay’ with me! Why have you been pulling away from me?! Do you not want to be friends anymore, or something? Is that it?!” You could tell that he was unravelling now. His emotions were finally taking over. He was all over the place; voice wavering, arms flailing, tears streaming. You sobbed at the sight; wanting nothing more than to take the step forward and wrap your arms around him. But now wasn’t the right time. Right now, he was angry with you.
“No, No, that’s not it JJ! I promise, I do want to be friends with you—”
“Then tell me what the fuck’s going on, Y/N!” His voice cracked, “Just. . . please, Y/N.” He practically begged.
You looked up at him (the both of you subconsciously moving closer and closer together) watching as the tears spilled from his pain-filled eyes, his lips wobbling as he tried to hold in the sobs that clearly wanted to escape. You didn’t doubt the fact that your expression probably mirrored his. You stifled a sob as you held your shirt sleeve up to your mouth, trying to somehow silence your cries long enough for you to get your words out.
“I’m in love with you, JJ.”
His eyes widened and more tears seemed to escape. He blinked rapidly as he took a slight step back. Your heart clenched at the very sight and you felt as though all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the air.
“You—You’re in love with me? Y/N, wha--?” His words came out in mumbles. All of his emotions seemed to water down until he was left with one; confusion.
You protectively crossed your arms over your chest, your hands resting on your shoulders -- as if in some way this would protect your heart and keep it from breaking even more. “Listen JJ, I’m not expecting you to feel the same way. Honestly, I’m not. And—and that’s fine with me, it really is. But, I can’t. . . I can’t listen to you talk about your one-night stands, and I can’t sit and watch you flirt with Jessica, or Jennifer, or whoever else you plan on macking in the future. Because it just hurts too much, JJ.” You let out a shaky breath, wiping the remnants of your fallen tears.
“Y/N—”
“So, let’s not talk about it, let’s just. . . not talk about it JJ, alright? Let’s just, pretend like it never happened okay?” You nod at your own words, more as an attempt at convincing yourself than JJ. “I’ll just keep this all to myself and then, you’ll keep it all to yourself.” You let out a bated breath as you begin to take steps away from the blonde in front of you, trying to run away from the mess you had just created. “But, just spare me the details, JJ.” You look up at JJ one last time before turning on your heels and walking away from him. Leaving him all alone under the glow of a flickering street light with only one thing on his mind; he was in love with you too.
part 2
2K notes · View notes
marchtomydrums · 3 years
Text
In the beginning 15
Alex Cabot X Casey Novak X Reader
Rated M
Tumblr media
Your body is shaking You’re so angry. Did they really not tell you about this weekend? Does Casey actually know? You grab your things and head straight for the elevator before remembering you’re supposed to be riding home with Alex.
Walking back to the desk you have a range of emotions running through you. The pain in your side increased taking your breath away for a moment. It’s all too much, all of these feelings, and doubts. It’s just too much.
Alex chooses this time to walk out of the office.
“You ready to go?” She asked. You nod your head not trusting your voice. She gives you a small smile. As soon as you get in the car Alex leans over to grab your hand.
“Thank you for riding home with me. I know it’s been rocky but I’ve really missed our on on one time. “ you can only nod at her not trusting the tears to stay at bay. You look out the window while Alex drives. Her hand is still in yours holding it tightly all the way home. Reaching the penthouse Alex lets you enter first. “Casey will be home earlier than usual. We’re ordering take out so be thinking about what you want. She said she’ll be gone an hour tops.” You listen to Alex ramble on for a good minute before cutting her off kissing her. She’s taken back at the sudden contact it doesn’t last long though. She’s kissing you back with all she has.
“My love, I’ve missed this.” She moans into your mouth. You let her lead you onto the couch. Her body weight on top of yours kissing you, pulling your clothes off. You're trying hard to keep these emotions shut down but unfortunately, they come out with full force. Your eyes pouring tears as you kiss Alex. She pulls back slightly tasting the salty tears.
“My love I’m so sorry about everything. I’ve missed you so much. “ she cries kissing you again mistaking your tears for joy or relief. You start to cry harder when her hand makes its way into your panties. Alex pulls back again looking at you.
“My love? Are sure this is something you want? You’re dry.”
“It’s what you want right?” You mumbled. Pulling Alex back down.
“This is what you wanted right? You wanted it all to be okay? Well here I am so just fuck me. “ you cry looking up at Alex.
“What?” She says taken back by your words.
“I would never just fuck you and it’s about what we both want. I would never treat you like that. “ Alex says tears forming in her eyes as she moves off of you. You sigh pulling your knees up to your chest.
“Emma told me about this weekend. “ you say quietly not looking at Alex. Alex breaths out heavily.
“My love I promise you I was going to talk to you and Casey about it tonight. I didn’t pick Emma. Jack picked us I actually forgot all about it before she reminded me today.” Alex tells you looking over to see your facial expression.
“We will be in separate rooms and I’ll only have to be around her when we’re in meetings.” Alex continues which causes you to snort and roll your eyes.
“Alex, I couldn’t care less what you do. Emma’s not the problem you were right about that. I can’t control Emma or her thoughts, crushes, actions. However, I can talk to you about them and we as a couple can set boundaries. To do that though both parties have to be respectful of each other. You don’t respect me or my feelings. There’s no point in even arguing about it. You’ll do whatever you want to do anyway. So do you want to fuck me or not?” You ask her at the end of your speech. Alex sits there stunned for a moment. You roll your eyes walking off.
Alex’s POV:
An hour later Casey comes walking in happy as ever.
“Hi. Did you guys order already? Or what?” Casey asked me walking towards the couch where I’ve been sitting for the past hour. I look up at tears falling down my face.
“Oh baby what’s wrong?” She asked sitting beside me pulling me into her chest. I fill Casey in on everything that has happened including what happened here tonight. I can tell she’s upset but she doesn’t say much just letting me talk.
“Alex you know I love you. And I support you and your work. This trip wouldn’t be a big deal if all of this was handled the right way. Unfortunately, your words and your actions have caused you to lose y/n’s trust and only you can fix that. I can’t play mediator in this round. This is up to you to fix. I still have your back but I promise you if you make me look stupid again for taking up for you it will not be pleasant.”
“I love you Casey and I love y/n I wouldn’t do something to hurt the two of you like that,” I exclaimed to her.
“I do not doubt in my mind that you love us. But if you want this relationship to work with all three of us you have to try harder. No more lies, or half-truths, no more saying hurtful things because you pissed off and scared. But again this isn’t about us. This is about you and y/n. You need to fix it, Alex.”
I nod my head listening to every word coming out of Casey’s mouth. I want to make this right. I don’t want you to be angry with me anymore.
“When do you leave?” Casey asks.
“In the morning around 7 am. A car is picking me up and taking us to the airport. I’ll be back Monday morning. “
“Okay. Let’s go to bed.” I follow Casey up the stairs. Once we get into the bedroom we notice that you are already asleep in the middle.
“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” I ask Casey.
“I hope so Alex. I really do.” Casey says climbing into her side. I do the same climbing in on my side. I hover over you and gently kiss your temple. “Goodnight my love,” I whispered my voice cracking with emotion. Casey reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Goodnight honey.”
“Goodnight sweetheart.” I smile back at her sinking into the bed praying for sleep.
The next morning….
Casey and Alex wake you up at the ass crack of dawn moving around the room. You look up to see Alex packing and Casey is helping her. Groaning you drop back down on the bed covering your face with Alex’s pillow. You inhale deeply her shampoo still lingering on the fabric. Part of you feels guilty for the stunt you pulled on her last night. You feel guilty for being upset with her. But the other part of you is pissed off and hurt. You must have dozed off while your heart and your head were at war. Casey was leaning over you talking. You couldn’t make out her words just yet but it looked a little brighter outside so you must have fallen back asleep.
“Y/n baby, wake up. Alex leaves in 20 minutes. I know you’re mad but please come say goodbye.” Casey pleads to you. You get up making a quick stop in the bathroom before heading downstairs. Casey is kissing Alex goodbye. The two hold each other in their arms for a moment before breaking apart.
Alex sees you and smiles.
“Bye.” You tell her with little emotion. Her eyes drop.
“Bye. I’ll be back Monday. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Alex walks toward the door before turning back around. Tears welling up in her eyes “I know you’re angry with me. And you have every right to be. I just want you to know that I love you and I’ll miss you. “ she tells you her cries getting heavier with each word. You cast your eyes to the side praying no tears spill.
“Can I hug you? Please.” She asked. You nod. Slowly making your way over to her. Alex wraps her arms around you crying into your shoulder. It takes everything in you, not to break down.
“I love you. “ she whispered.
“I love you too,” you say softly. Alex chocks back a sob more than likely shocked that you responded. Pulling herself back from you she gives you a watery smile.
“Okay. I’ll see you two Monday. “ she says walking out the door.
Walking towards the window you watch Alex load her bags and get in the car. Casey comes up behind you wrapping her arms around you resting her chin on your shoulder. You break watching the car drive off crumbling into Casey's embrace sobbing.
27 notes · View notes
dulce-pjm · 3 years
Note
Hi! Could I request a Jin or namjoon arranged marriage! au with “One more kiss.” Thank you!!
of course!! let’s do it ;) took some creative liberties since i got multiple arranged marriage requests, hope that’s okay!! it's rather angsty
namjoon with au #1 - arranged marriage!au and prompt #6 - “One more kiss.”
make your own request here using these prompts!
Tumblr media
rainy day promise
namjoon x reader! ft. bestie!hoseok
word count: 2.4k (i’m honestly so proud of myself for not making this a borderline oneshot)
genre: fluff, angst, arranged marriage!au, (very very slight) historical!au and wartime!au
summary: when namjoon’s away, all you can do is worry. 
Tumblr media
The rain has always made you sleepy. 
It reminds you of quiet nights by the fire, curled against his chest as he reads to you. It makes you feel him kissing your temple softly and whispering “Good night, love,” when he sees your eyes flutter closed and your breaths become heavier. The rain and his memory are too comforting, too tempting to resist drifting off into dreamland. 
“You alright, Y/N?” The question has you jolting in your seat, eyes flying from the drops cascading down the window to the man next to you, a warm smile gracing his sharp features. 
The meal in front of you has long gone tasteless and your date has noticed, picking up at how you’ve gone from merely playing with your food to not touching it altogether. 
“‘M fine,” you murmur, shoveling a few potatoes into your mouth despite the nausea rising in your stomach. Your eyes go wide when he grabs your wine glass, taking no time at all to fill it. 
“You’ll be better if you drink a little.” You feign glare at him but his smile remains stern. 
“I’m really alright, Hoseok.” You take a swig of the wine anyhow, letting the drink warm your cheeks and sting at the back of your throat. 
“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” You don’t answer, suddenly finding your untouched peas very interesting. He’d be picking them off your plate if he was here. Hoseok places a gentle hand on top of yours. “Y/N, there’s no sense in getting all worked up. He’ll be okay, always is.”
There’s a clang on the opposite side of the table when your uncle’s silverware hits the table. 
“What are you two talking about over there?” You briefly cringe, summoning a sheepish smile you’ve worked to perfect over the years. 
You both brush it off. Hoseok, ever personable, is able to change the subject before you can blink, chatting with your aunt about some upcoming play he’s directing. 
Hoseok is wealthy, like his father and grandfather before him. He’s kind and funny and better with people than you’ve ever been. He could provide you with a comfortable life, away from the war. That’s why your aunt and uncle chose him for you, why they orchestrated this arrangement underneath your nose. 
You hadn’t rejected him, not exactly. You’ve never been in any position to reject the courtship or engagement. But both you and Hoseok know your heart lies elsewhere. 
Your aunt grabs your hand, but her gaze lies on the man to your left. “I mean, really, Kim Seokjin! When word gets out, there’ll be rioting on the streets just to get into the show, I’m sure of it.” Hoseok laughs awkwardly, giving you sparing glances to keep track of your worrying mind. 
“I was just as surprised as you when he auditioned. It’s been an honor to work with him. I actually hope to—”
The dining hall door slams open. You whip your head towards the door along with the rest of the guests. The messenger is drenched, looking haggard with disheveled hair and rain still dripping down her face. 
“I— I’m sorry, sir—” Her teeth are chattering. “The merchants returned. There was—”
“Slow down, Hana,” your aunt says, always maternal. “It’s alright. Take your time.” She nods, taking a deep breath as a puddle of rainwater forms around her feet. 
“There was an injury. The carriage flipped while they were passing through the valley, because of all this rain.”
You’re on feet before you can think twice, heavy dining chair scraping against the hardwood as you push it backward. Hoseok shoots you a warning look that you don’t catch. 
“Excuse me,” you mutter. “I’m not feeling well.”
Hoseok stands with you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll escort you.” 
Your uncle shakes his head, scolding, “No, stay with us, Hoseok. It wouldn’t be proper.” You could laugh. Neither of you has ever been particularly proper with each other. 
You bid your aunt and uncle goodnight, ignoring a concerned stare from Hoseok. As soon as you’re out of sight, you dash towards the basement, towards the closet you always meet him in when he returns. You pray you’ll see him there and not surrounded by medics. 
The closet is placed discreetly, the door hidden by old barrels and shelves, bare walls and damp floors making this corner of this house largely unused and untouched. 
You knock thrice on the door, pause, and knock a fourth time. When the door doesn’t open, you repeat the code. 
No answer. Your heart drops into stomach as you stumble backwards, breathing spiraling out of control. 
“Hey, love.” A soft hand lands on the small of your back and you gasp, spinning to face him. He’s all smiles, lips stretched into his dimpled cheeks as he resists the urge to kiss you right here. “Miss me?”
You throw your arms around his middle, pressing your face into his chest as he digs his nose into your hair. 
You know how self-conscious he is about his intimidating aura. His sharp glances and sharper words often have most of the staff avoiding him like the plague, but to you, he’s all soft embraces and blushing cheeks. 
--
“How was the trip?” The two of you are perched on worn stools that wobble when you lean too far one way, arms wrapped around each other to keep them from moving too much. Your head is pressed against his shoulder while he traces patterns on the back of your hand that's resting on his thigh. 
“It was... amazing. Honestly.” 
“I’m glad.” And you are. But you can’t help but always worry. These trips are dangerous and take much too long. When war and battle beckon at your door, every day without him in your sight is another day of anxiety.
Namjoon is a servant of your uncle’s house. He’s a cartographer, having studied at the same university as Hoseok and yourself, earning admission through his merit alone. The first times you saw him, he was bent over old maps and worn books, the weak candlelight illuminating the texts in front of him and his face poorly. Under the ruse of taking nighttime strolls, you’d found yourself sneaking peeks at him more often, smiling softly at the dark tufts of hair he’d run his fingers through until it stood up on his head. 
You remember when Hoseok introduced you to him officially, tired of hearing you gush about him, and the three of you became a unit, joint at the hip wherever you went. 
You hadn’t realized how good those days were, not when you had them. When you and Namjoon were giggly and sweet and bashful and it took Hoseok fighting tooth and nail for either of you to confess your true feelings. He’d been delighted when you finally gave up on hiding it, nearly shrieking in joy when he saw Namjoon sneak a peck on your cheek in the corner stairwell.
Those days were golden and joyful, full of laughs and long nights doing schoolwork and attending fancy university parties only to sneak away with half the buffet. 
The days were good. Until they weren’t. 
Until your uncle and aunt and Hoseok’s parents informed you of their longstanding agreement: that the two of you be married. 
It’d been nothing but an absolute shock, but the both of you knew better than to say no, knew better than to risk their wrath. Hoseok would have been fine, though his parents certainly would have been unhappy. But if you rejected your uncle's wishes, an orphan with nothing but gratitude for their kindness in taking care of you, you couldn't be too sure they wouldn’t just relieve you of your position here, sending you to the streets. And you and Namjoon had neither the means nor the connections to fend for yourselves in the city, not in times like these.
When Hoseok got on one knee the next week in your dining room with Namjoon watching from the corner, newly hired by your uncle at your own suggestion, you said yes. Neither of you wanted it, but Namjoon insisted Hoseok go through with it, too caught up in his worry for your safety to think of himself.
It'd been difficult keeping the ruse, especially once your university days were over and there were much fewer places tucked away from your aunt and uncle's eyes and ears. It'd have been much more difficult without Hoseok, but he's always been the charmer out of you three, easily diverting attention and prying eyes when need be.
"I actually got you something."
Your eyes light up in surprise as you shift to face him. "You did? But you said—"
"I lied," he replies with a small smirk. "We always planned to stop by a few cities. I just wanted to see your face when I surprised you."
You giggle softly, lightly slapping at his arm. "You still lied.”
“For a good cause,” he jokes, pecking at your cheek before drawing a small box from his pocket. His cheeks flush slightly as he hands it to you. It reminds you of those first times you spoke to him, when you were both sputtering messes that could barely hold eye contact for longer than a moment. 
It’s small but heavy in your hands, the size somewhat indicative of its contents. It fits just so in your palm, and when you open it, tears spring into your eyes at the small ring nestled into the velvet cushion. It isn’t shiny or decorated with diamonds or worth half your university tuition like the ring Hoseok gave you. It’s humble and wooden, deep brown and adorned with intricately carved with roses and other patterns you don’t recognize. Your thumb runs over the grooves almost instinctively, as if trying to memorize the feeling as quickly as possible. You can almost see his face when he spotted it in some market or shop, see that lit up expression on his features when it reminds him of you. 
“Oh, Namjoon...” You swipe at your eyes quickly, but when you meet his gaze, there’s already a few stray tears cascading down his face. 
“I’m sorry,” he blurts as you smile, lifting your hand to cup his face, thumb brushing away the tears on his cheeks. “I know it’s not much. But I thought you might like it. It’s discreet, so I figured you could wear it around, if you wanted to.”
You chuckle softly and wonder what you’d done to deserve him. “It’s perfect.” You remove Hoseok’s engagement ring from your finger and quickly replace it with Namjoon’s. You already know you’ll be running your fingers over it again often, treating it like a tether to him when he isn’t here. It won’t sit on your ring finger, of course, but for now, you leave it there, admiring its simplicity. 
Namjoon takes a deep breath, pulling your hands into his. “I know everything’s uncertain right now. And I know that might not change for a while.” He runs his thumb across the ring, looking at it intently before lifting your whole hand and kissing it gently, plush lips ever soft against your skin. “But this is a promise. That one day I’ll sweep you off your feet and we won’t look back.”
You laugh loudly this time, maybe a bit too loudly, but you don’t care. “If I don’t sweep you off your feet first.”
He doesn’t ask the question hanging in the air, but your response is enough of an answer as you pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. You can taste the saltwater from both of your tears, the moment both incredibly joyful and bittersweet.
When you pull away, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear while you run a thumb over his dimples, all affections. 
“It’s late,” he murmurs. “We should go.”
You sigh, hand dropping from his face. You wish you could drag him to your room, sweet talk him into playing with your hair or reading with you for a while, but you know he’s right. 
You rise with a nod, feet dragging behind you as you make for the closet door, listening outside for a moment on the off chance that someone’s up late and nearby. Namjoon stays in his seat, always leaving after you to decrease suspicion and allow you to get to bed first. When no sound meets you other than faint thunder, you crack open the door, stepping outside. 
But just as you start to close it behind you, Namjoon grabs the edge of the door with his hand, sticking his face out to meet your startled gaze. 
“Wait.”
“Is something wrong?” You search his face with concern, wondering if you should have said more earlier, if you’d hurt him somehow. 
“No, no.” He shakes his head fervently with a smile. “No, that’s not it.”
You furrow your brows at his antics, though you’ve always loved seeing his more silly side. “Then what do you want, Mister Kim?”
His eyes glint with mischief. “One more kiss, Mrs. Kim.” Your cheeks are flushed, but laugh as you grab his shoulders, pulling him close to you as you let him press his velvety lips onto yours, savoring the feeling until he’s with you again. 
“Love you,” you murmur, peppering a few more kisses on his chin and cheeks for good measure. 
“I love you too,” he whispers. “So much.” He starts to shut the door, but pauses, lips down turned slightly in a frown. “Oh— don’t forget to move the ring to a different finger.”
You nod. “I won’t.” It’s bittersweet as the door closes, a reminder that the bubble you two have created yourself only goes so far, that this isn’t quite as real as you want it to be. 
Namjoon saves the longer, more elegant speech and proposal for a future date, like its own unspoken promise. One day social status and money and survival won’t stop you. One day you’ll both be coming home from long days to love each other unabashedly, to embrace without fear or time constraints. 
You smile to yourself as the rain patters outside, your feet echoing behind you as you creep back to your room. 
You wish Namjoon were with you as you climb under the sheets, feeling a bit cold without him here. 
Yes, the rainfall makes you sleepy but as your head fills with thoughts of Namjoon and his promise, you grin stupidly to yourself, thinking you probably won’t get too much rest tonight. 
43 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Title: Serious Inquiries Only: PART 4
*FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE, FOR PART 2 CLICK HERE, FOR PART 3 CLICK HERE or SEE MASTERLIST*
Pairing: dom! yoongi x reader ft. Hobi
Warnings: Talk of sexual favors, flirting, crack, humor, Slight angst, Implied Solo Masturbation (M) (F), Daddy Kink, Hand Job (M) Receiving, Tit Job.
Rating: 18 and over
Hobi:
Hobi shuffles in his bed, rolling about to get comfortable. He rolls towards his bedroom door, eyeing his side table for the time. 5:15am. He sighs, happy that he has nothing planned for the day but sleep. “Hobi.” He hears a growl from inside his bedroom. His eyes pop open, blood going cold as he slowly raises his head from his pillow. “Hello?” He whispers, praying that nothing responds. He blinks a few times, looking about frantically, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in his room. Suddenly, a dark blurb comes towards him, “Ahh…” His scream cut off by a cold, ringed hand around his mouth. “Quiet!” Yoongi growls, finally coming into view. Hobi’s eyes roll back, relief washing over him. Yoongi releases him, sitting on the end of his bed. “You scared me. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. What are you still doing here?” Hobi whispers, sitting up now. Yoongi stares off in the dark, dropping his head into his hand, saying nothing. “Alright, you’re scaring me again. What’s going on?”
“I’m going to kill you Hobi.” Yoongi lifts his head and states matter of fact. Hobi swallows hard. “Um, why?” “For putting me in this situation where I have to lie to Y/N! She told me she’s seeing someone after we, I, whatever.” “You fucked?” “No, you idiot!” “Come on Hyung, no need for name calling. Clearly you know she isn’t seeing anyone. She must’ve said it because she got nervous.” Yoongi grumbles, running his hand over his face, turning towards Hobi. “Or, maybe, she means Gloss. Which means I have to tell her that I’m Gloss.” Hobi feels his blood drain from his face. “No, come on. You’re overreacting here. She will flip out if she finds out and she will kill us, you and I, leaving you and Gloss with nothing.” Hobi watches as Yoongi contemplates his words, releasing a sigh. “Fine. I won’t say anything…. YET!” He waves a finger at Hobi. “I think that’s best. Maybe interact with her more as Gloss.” Hobi suggests. “She only wants Gloss to feed her salacious cravings. It’s not intimate like with me.” “Hyung, Gloss is you; you are Gloss. Find a way to merge the two.” Hobi urges. Yoongi nods, considering Hobi’s words again. “Where are you going?” Hobi questions when Yoongi stands. “Home. Goodnight.” Yoongi exits and Hobi throws himself back on his bed. “Sleep? Now… never.” Hobi says aloud, tossing the covers off and heading to the bathroom for a shower.
Y/N:
Gloss,
I need more. I need you, to see you. We are coming up on the end of our first month and you mentioned it being a trial period. Well, I want to continue our arrangement. If you agree, you’d make me a happy girl. I miss you. Please send nudes.
XOXO,
WildGoddess
“Good morning.” Hobi emerges from his room looking exhausted. “Hung over?” You ask. “No, just didn’t get much sleep. How about you?” “I slept fine.” “No, I mean why do you look like shit?” Your eyes widen, “Uh, I let Yoongi eat me out last night.” You confess, crossing your legs to keep from feeling the intense need growing by just remembering it. Hobi’s brows slowly shoot up, his mouth hangs open for a moment before taking the shape of an ‘o’. “How was that?” He finally asks. You bite your lip, feeling your face flush. “Fucking amazing Hobi. I really like him.” “Wow! That’s great news!” “It's terrible!” You contradict. “Why?” He leans in closer to you. “Because I like Gloss and I know you’re going to say I’m dumb for liking a guy I’ve never seen or met but I can’t help it ok. There’s just something about him that I can’t shake.” “Look Y/N, I’m never going to judge you but what I will say is Yoongi is right here with you in this moment and he really likes you. Gloss, well, he’s there also but not as intimately as Yoongi. He’s not going to be hurt if you ghost him, whereas Yoongi will be.” You grunt in annoyance at the thought of Yoongi being hurt. “I totally kicked him out last night. I don’t know why but I felt like I was cheating. I’m so stupid Hobi.” You whine, tossing your body into his arms. He squeezes you tightly. “It’s ok to be confused. Relationships aren’t easy.” “You can say that again. So, what do I do? Drop Gloss? Keep spending time with Yoongi? See them both?” Hobi shrugs. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that one. Only you can really decide what’s best for you. Your online crush or your flesh and blood one?”
You nod, thinking it over. Hobi is right, this shouldn’t be hard at all. You’ve never met Gloss; you have no real attachment to him. Who cares if you ghost him? You should pick Yoongi, he’s right here with you and he likes you with all your craziness. Suddenly as you think you’ve come to a decision your phone buzzes.
WildGoddess,
Here’s my number xxx-xxx-xxxx. It’s time we spoke in real time. You want nudes? Text my phone, I won’t send them here. By the way, I love the way your cunt sounds for me. I bet she’s the sweetest tasting fruit on earth. Hurry up and text me Goddess, I’m eager to show you just how hard my cock gets at the sound of you. Waiting.
XXX,
Gloss
“You ok?” Hobi asks and you realize your breathing is heavy. “Yeah, just got a message I didn’t expect.” “Ok, well, I’m going to go for a run, wanna join?” “No thanks.” He nods, getting up to grab his gear. You head into your room, fumbling with your phone.
Me: Gloss?
Gloss: Goddess?
Me: Yes.
Gloss: Hi.
Me: Hi.
You don’t know what to say next instead lying back on your bed, bending your legs, and spreading them wide. You pull your sweater up to reveal your mound and grab it with your free hand, snapping a picture and sending it to Gloss. You wait for what feels like forever for him to respond. Moaning when you get back a picture of his unzipped pants, his shaft visible, but erect cock pressed tightly against the clothing.
Me: Tease.
Gloss: No Goddess, teasing would be me telling you that I’m stroking this fat cock right now to the sound of your sweet cunt.
Me: I wish I was there watching.
Gloss: Sucking me off?
Me: Yes.
Gloss: Naughty girl.
Me: So naughty. So wet.
Gloss: Show me.
You gasp, shedding your panties and spreading your legs again, angling the camera just right to capture your glistening core. Hitting send when satisfied.
Gloss: Fuck, so needy. I wish I was there.
Me: Licking my cunt?
Gloss: Stretching her out.
You moan, unable to take it any longer, rubbing your clit roughly. Your high building quickly until soon your orgasm hits you in waves, your back arching as you cry out Gloss’ name.
Me: I just came.
Gloss: Me too.
You bite your lip at the new picture you receive of white strands of his seed strewn across his black t-shirt.
Me: So. fucking. hot.
Gloss: Wish you were here?
Me: Yes, licking it up.
Gloss: Soon. Talk later naughty girl.
Yoongi:
Yoongi sits at his computer desk, set up to film a dual hand kink/ ASMR for his SIO page. He hits record on the camera that is angled at the desk and he places a golden bowl filled with honey beside a left sided ear mic. He chuckles softly into the right ear mic that is beside his mouth, licking his lips. He starts by dipping his left hand into the honey, allowing it to engulf his digits fully, the squelching sound captured by the mic. He closes his fist in the liquid, flexing so his veins pop out, then soon opens his hand, lifting it up and out of the bowl. He allows the honey to drip from the tips of his long slender fingers back into the bowl. As the honey continues to drip down, he moves his right hand under his left, letting the fluid cascade onto his dry hand, soon bringing his right hand into the bowl, capturing the same sound again. Once fully coated in honey, he brings his right hand up, allowing the honey to drip back into the bowl. He brings both of his sticky hands together and begins to rub the mixture around both his hands and through his fingers.
He soon brings his right hand up to his lips and takes his index finger into his mouth, slurping on his digit in the right ear mic. Flashes of his night with Y/N soon flood his mind and he begins to clean each finger slowly and languidly, slurping and moaning gently until each one of his fingers is clean. He rests his now clean right hand on the desk in view of the camera, bringing his left hand up to begin lapping up his mess. His senses soon become flooded with Y/N’s scent and he moans unabashedly into the mic, licking at his own palm wishing it was her cunt. Soon his hand is clean, and he is out of breath. He places his left hand down beside the right to show off his hard work. He chuckles into the mic, wishing his followers a goodnight, turning of the camera. He edits and uploads the video to his SIO page under the title ‘Midnight Snack’.
Before too long its morning and he is headed to the main building Iced Americano in hand, butterflies in his belly, awaiting the arrival of Y/N. He picks at the corner of his weekly assignment, looking at the door every time it opens. She’s never this late. Soon the door opens, and his face drops at the sight of Hobi walking in. “What are you doing here?” Hobi chuckles nervously. “Uh,” He sits next to Yoongi, “I have to drop off Y/N’s assignment before I head to class.” “Why? What’s wrong with her? Is she ok?” Hobi nods, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi. “Hobi.” Yoongi says sternly, causing his friend to look at him now. “She didn’t want to see you ok.” Yoongi huffs, standing quickly as the professor enters the classroom asking everyone to bring their assignments forward. “Don’t be upset ok. She’s still working through her feelings. Relationships are hard for her.” “Whatever. Remind her we have a team project together and she can’t avoid me forever.” “Ah, Hyung, don’t be upset.” “This is actually all your fault. Why did you even give her my code in the first place? I told you I wasn’t her type.” “We both know that’s not true.” “It is!” Yoongi shouts, his voice echoing through the hall, causing Hobi’s eyes to pop open in shock.
“She likes assholes like Trevor and Gloss! Not me.” Yoongi says defeated walking off in a huff. “Hyung!! Wait!!” Hobi runs up behind him, yanking his arm. “Please, look, I gave her your code because I knew she would open up to Gloss. Gloss is all the things she craves, but Yoongi, Yoongi is all the things she needs. The beauty of this is that it's all you. We aren’t talking about two different people here. Cheer up ok. This is all going to work itself out. Trust me.” Yoongi just shrugs, pulling his vibrating phone out.
Goddess: My god Gloss, your video today was insane. I don’t think I will ever get over the sound of you sucking on your fingers. You are so fucking hot.
Me: I was inspired, thinking of just how great you’d taste.
Goddess: I sent over your $1000. I figured you’d send me more than just your shaft.
Me: Naughty girl. Do you think you deserve it?
Goddess: I’ll do anything.
Me: I’ll keep that in mind. Talk later.
“Maybe I’ve been playing this all wrong Hobi. Gloss isn’t in control here, I am. I just need to shift gears.” Yoongi looks up from his phone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just be yourself, don’t change it up.” Hobi shakes his head while saying. “Maybe, we’ll see. Talk later.” Yoongi declares, patting Hobi in the arm with renewed confidence, walking off.
Y/N:
“Well? What did he say?” You ask Hobi as he arrives home. “He was unhappy for sure and said you guys have a team assignment and you can’t avoid him forever.” Hobi plops down on the couch beside you. “He’s right. I am being super childish. I should just talk to him. Explain the whole Gloss thing to him.” Hobi pops up from his leaned back position. “Woah, I wouldn’t do that. I mean just explain that you needed to clear your head. I mean this doesn’t have anything to do with Gloss really. It has to do with you and your crazy brain.” You nod, Hobi is right, no sense in making Yoongi jealous over a guy you’ve never met. “Why don’t you just call him?” Hobi suggests. “I don’t have his number, besides this is a conversation to be had face to face.” “I couldn’t agree more. This Friday is his birthday. I usually go over to his place with a cake, and we stuff our faces and get drunk. You should come.” “I don’t think he’s going to want to see me on his birthday.” Hobi shrugs. “Oh, come on. He will definitely want to see you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some special requests to fill. May I suggest headphones, I’m going to be loud.” “Ugh, gross!” You wince as Hobi laughs off to his room.
You head to your room and surf through Gloss’ SIO page, combing through older videos you have yet to watch when you come across the comments on his latest video. One in particular catching your eye.
Misty101: The heavenly sounds of a cunt eating GOD! :-*
Your eyes bulge open at the comment and you feel your face burn as jealousy hits you. You take to scrolling through older comments from other videos, seeing her pop up once again under his Leather or Lace video.
Misty101: That sound, brings back memories. ;-*
“She knows him.” You whisper to yourself. You try clicking on her name, but nothing happens. “Fuck!” You shout. “She knows him.” You repeat over and over, racing to Hobi’s room, busting through the door. “Ugh gross, Hobi, put that thing away!” You groan, shielding your eyes from Hobi’s reddened cock. “What the fuck Y/N? Can’t you knock. I’m filming.” He grumbles, fumbling with the camera, trying to cover himself up at the same time. “You can look now.” He declares.
“Does the name Misty101 mean anything to you?” You ask, wide eyed. “Uh, no, should it?” “I don’t know I guess not. She comments a lot on Gloss’ post.” “So, how many of his followers do that? Why does she matter?” “Because she comments like she knows him.” Hobi scoffs, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, no. Gloss has been anonymous since he started SIO. There is no one on that site that knows him personally. Well, besides me.” “Just tell me who he is Hobi.” You kneel beside your friend pleading at him with your eyes. “Get out Y/N, I’m working.” “Fuck you Hobi. You’re the worst friend ever!” “Yeah, yeah.” He groans.
Back in your room, you comb through social media looking for girls named Misty. After what feels like hours, you come across your friend Steph’s Instagram post with a busty blonde tagged under the username Misty101 and you feel as if you’ve seen her before. You scroll through Steph’s page and find multiple posts with Misty, squealing when you see they takes classes together and seemingly know each other well.
The following day, you head to the main building hoping to “bump” into Misty. As you walk through the halls aimlessly, your eyes pop open at the sight of Misty walking towards you. “Hi, uh, Misty is it?” “Yeah? Do I know you?” She asks with a side eye but keeps walking. “Uh, no but I’ve seen you around with Steph.” “Oh, yeah. How are you? What can I do for you?” “I had kind of a weird question.” She stops walking now and turns to face you. “Like what?” “Like, um, do you know Gloss?” You whisper. She gives you an annoyed look, crossing her arms. “I follow him on SIO, so what? What are you the fun police?” “Uh, no, I follow him too. I meant; do you know him like in person.” She laughs heartily in your face. “You like him huh? I get it. He’s fucking hot. All those sexy videos he puts up online, what a tease. To answer your question, yes, I know him in person and no I won’t tell you who he is. What I can tell you is that you’re violating SIO’s privacy policy by coming to me like this. How you even found me I don’t know but I imagine stalking was involved. Stay away from me psycho and I won’t tell Gloss you’re looking for him.” She turns and begins walking away, leaving your mouth hanging open. “Oh, and since I’m sure you’re curious. Yes, we have fucked, and he is AMAZING in bed.” She laughs again, this time leaving.
You swallow down the lump in your throat and pull out your phone. Texting furiously, tears burning your eyes.
Me: The deal is off. Keep this latest payment as a FUCK YOU!! You’re a liar. You said you’ve never done this with anyone before but that was a lie, wasn’t it? Don’t contact me again!
Gloss: I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you want your money back, you can have it, but I never lied.
You read Gloss’ message and feel the tears stream down your face.
Me: I’m blocking you now!
Yoongi:
“Alright guys, good job today! I’ll see you next week and I want to see that you’ve been practicing at home. Have a great weekend!” Yoongi waves off his students, plopping down at a piano and fiddling with the keys. He closes his eyes and begins to play a slow and melancholy tune, releasing the built-up tension from his text conversation with Y/N. He was growing tired of the back-and-forth game of playing himself and Gloss for her. He was ready to confess. “I forgot how talented you were.” He hears from the doorway, causing him to stop playing and open his eyes. He rolls his eyes at the sight of Misty standing before him. “Why are you here?” “We need to talk.” “Do we though?” “Yes, it’s important. You have a stalker.” She walks in, sitting at one of the other pianos. “Clearly.” He notes, closing the cover on the piano keys and standing. “Not me asshole. Some girl. She follows your SIO page and somehow found me and approached me on campus yesterday asking a lot of questions.”
Yoongi begins gathering his things, unbothered by this story, sure the girl was Y/N. “Let me guess. You told her we fucked.” Misty’s jaw drops before forming a pout. “Well, that was after I told her that I wouldn’t say a thing about you. I promised you I would protect your privacy and look I did. Aren’t you happy daddy?” She asks, sliding out of her seat and onto her knees before Yoongi. There was a time this would turn him on, he would happily grip her hair, fill her mouth with his cock and send her off but that time is no longer. Yoongi rolls his eyes again, “No Misty, happy isn’t the word I would use and please don’t call me daddy. I would’ve been happy to know that you had actually said nothing. Instead, you let jealousy get the best of you, didn’t you?” Yoongi moves forward, smirking when her eyes light up then drop as Yoongi walks past her, gathering his sheet music from just behind her.
She lets out a defeated moan. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. She intimidated me, I guess. She’s really pretty and I thought about you touching her the way you used to touch me.” Yoongi chuckles now, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Get up,” He commands, “and next time someone approaches you about Gloss, just tell them you don’t know him. Remember, you fucked me, Yoongi, not Gloss. Gloss came into play after you and I were together. I was the fool who thought I could trust you with that side of my life. It seems I was wrong.” “No! Please Dad… Yoongi. I... I’m sorry,” She stands, grabbing Yoongi’s hand, “I didn’t tell her a thing. She knows nothing. I mean, do you know her? Like her?” Yoongi yanks his hand away. “You don’t get to ask me questions Misty. We are far from friends. Now, you need to leave. Thank you for being honest with me but this could’ve been a phone call.” “Look, I know I hurt you back when we dated Yoongi, but I still care about you. I just don’t want you getting caught up on some SIO stalker. Just be careful, ok?” He nods but says nothing else, releasing a held in sigh once she departs. He opens his messages in his phone, reading Gloss’ texts with Y/N, a newfound understanding to her anger.
Yoongi emerges from the shower happy to be home and relaxing. He tries to send a text message to Y/N’s phone.
ME: Good Evening Goddess. I hope you aren’t still upset with me. I’d really love to talk. It’s important.
*It appears this caller has blocked you*
Yoongi grumbles, tossing his phone to the side. He brushes his fingers through his still damp hair, reaching for the remote, when a knock on his door leaves him rolling his head back in annoyance. He hops up to answer the door, yanking it open. “Happy birthday!!” He hears, closing his eyes before the popped confetti can blind him. He feels two people push past him and he stands in the doorway dusting the confetti from his bangs before turning around to face his welcome wagon. “I’ve already ordered burgers, tacos, and pizza.” Hobi explains but it’s Y/N that he can’t take his eyes off. She stands in his kitchen, pulling a cake out of a box, not looking up at him. Hobi is filling the fridge with beer before walking over and hugging Yoongi. “Happy birthday Hyung!” “Thanks. To what do I owe the pleasure.” Yoongi nods to Y/N. “Uh, I’m going to run to the liquor store and grab some whiskey. Be back.” Hobi smiles, tapping Yoongi’s arm and taking his leave. “Happy birthday Yoongi. I told Hobi it was terrible idea to just barge in with cake in hand, but he said he always does this.” Y/N declares, finally looking at him. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s a yearly tradition for Hobi but I am surprised you’re here, especially after what happened between us.” She nods. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Explain myself better.” Yoongi waves her towards the couch. “Please do.” She walks over and takes a seat, tapping the couch for Yoongi to join her.
Yoongi sits beside her, resting his arms on the back of the couch, waiting for her to speak. She turns a bit to face him. “First I want to say that you did nothing wrong. I had an amazing time. You were amazing honestly.” She looks down as Yoongi licks his lips. “But.” Yoongi says, amused by his effect on her. “But I was, shouldn’t, have done that with you without telling you that I was talking to someone. It’s not fair to you. So, I want to apologize for that.” Yoongi nods. “Are we referring to the guy whose name you don’t know?” “Please don’t do that that. I know his name I just, you wouldn’t understand. It’s a complicated situation.” Yoongi laughs. “You making up a boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to deal with me? Yeah, that is a bit complicated for sure Y/N. I do, however, get the concepts of one-night stands. We could’ve just fucked and ended it there but to lie about some guy is childish no?” “I’m not lying. I am or was rather, talking to someone.” “Oh, so you’re not now?” “Well, no, we are kind of having a fight.” Yoongi nods, rubbing his eyes. “Well, good luck with your mystery man Y/N. I don’t want to intrude.” “If the circumstances were different Yoongi…” “Don’t do that. I don’t like to play in what ifs. Either you want me, or you don’t because I know what I want.” He declares. She stares at him, her bottom lip tucked in her teeth and Yoongi burns with desire for her. He just wants to confess, tell her everything right there. Scoop her into his lap and ravage her. She wants it too, he can see it in her eyes, how badly she craves him. “So, do you know what you want?” He whispers. “I bought a case. I figure we could use it.” Hobi pants, dropping the case on the counter. “Saved by the liquor.” Y/N whispers to Yoongi, who can’t help but chuckle at her comment.  
Y/N:
“He’s pretty but like hot.” You slur to Hobi, who laughs at you stumbling across the kitchen, cake in hand. “I’m sitting right here you know.” Yoongi drawls, running his hands through his hair to get it out of his face. You feel your pulse accelerate just watching him. “How do you know I’m talking about you?” You smirk at him, placing the cake before Yoongi. “Cause Hobi may be hot but he’s definitely not pretty.” He says while sipping from his whiskey glass. “Hey, people think I’m pretty. Breutiful actually.” Hobi hiccups, his face flushed. Yoongi laughs repeating the word ‘Breutiful’ under his breath. “You’re the most breutiful man I know Hoseok.” You tease, squeezing his cheeks. “Alright, alright, let's do this. 1.2. 1. 2. 3. Happy Birthday to you...” Hobi begins while you light the candles on the Yoongi’s cake, singing along. It goes dead silent as Yoongi smirks at the lit candles, then at you, then back at the cake. You smile at him suspiciously. “Hurry up, make a wish before they all melt down.” You urge. Yoongi tilts his head slightly, closing his eyes, muttering to himself, popping his eyes open abruptly and blowing out the candles. “What did you wish for?” Hobi hiccups. “He can’t say or else it won’t come true.” You scold Hobi, handing Yoongi a knife to cut the cake. “I’m good.” He waves before taking the knife from you. “You have to have cake on your birthday.” You tell him, cutting into the cake yourself. You hand him a slice, cutting a piece for Hobi and yourself after.
“I bet I can guess your wish.” Hobi points his fork at Yoongi. “Bet you can’t.” Yoongi smirks. Hobi just cracks up, slapping his leg leaving you feeling out of the loop to an inside joke. You roll your eyes at them, slowly looking around Yoongi’s place, taking in the subtle details when you notice the closed door beside the bathroom. “So, tell me Yoongi why do you have a two bedroom when you live alone?” You spin around looking down the hall of his apartment. “His office of course. How do you think he gets his work done?” Hobi slurs, sitting up to point at the room. “Shut up Hobi.” Yoongi clips, seeming uneasy. Your eyes light up and you rise from your seat.
“What kind of work?” You tease, walking towards the room. “Don’t.” Yoongi calls out to you sarcastically, completely unbothered by you walking off. “Is it like a 50 Shades Red Room?” You giggle, turning the knob, only to find it locked. “Is that what you want it to be?” Yoongi asks, suddenly behind you, causing you to yelp. “You scared me.” You whine, shoving him. He smiles, moving closer to you, until your back is pressed against the door. You lick your lips, feeling your pussy throb. “I should get Hobi home.” You pant, hearing Hobi grumble groggily from the living room. “Or you guys can crash.” Yoongi offers. Your heart flips at the thought and you chuckle nervously, feeling Yoongi’s breath on your cheek. “Where exactly would we sleep?” “Hobi’s found his spot and as for us, I don’t intend on sleeping tonight. Do you?” You look up into his lustful eyes, your needy moan caught by Yoongi’s mouth as he takes you into a passionate kiss. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, his tongue gliding across your bottom lip as a means of access and you happily deliver. You part your lips for him, giving him full allowance to ravage your mouth. You mewl desperately into the kiss when he expertly swirls his tongue around yours, your need soaking through your panties. “Yoongi,” You whine, breaking away to catch your breath, “We shouldn’t.” He kisses along your jaw and down your neck, suckling at the soft flesh, driving you wild. “If you want me to stop, I will, but don’t give me a bullshit excuse about some guy whose name you don’t know. Just be honest and tell me what you really want.” He whispers into your flesh between kisses.
You stare at each other for what feels like forever, the air surrounding you both being pulled into a black hole of need and lust. “It's not you, really. It’s me. My head is all over the place.” You whisper. Yoongi swallows hard, nodding, and moving away from you. “Are you upset?” You ask him. “Never,” He smiles, running his thumb across your cheek, “I can take the couch with Hoseok. You take my bed.” “No, you sleep in your bed. I wouldn’t feel right taking your bed.” You protest. “Has chivalry died Y/N?” You giggle at your owns words being thrown back at you, shaking your head in response. He takes your hand leading you over to his bedroom, opening the door to reveal his quaint candle lit room. “Sheets are clean, I just changed them today.” He notes. You look over the black bedsheets and smirk. “Black is your color Yoongi.” He hums in response. “Get some rest beautiful. I’ll see you in the morning.” You nod, walking into the room, turning to watch Yoongi leave. Your heart drops in your chest and you feel an immediate loneliness.
You sit on the edge of his bed, looking about, smiling at the bookshelf headboard that surrounds his bed. You read the names of the various books he has stacked and wonder to yourself if he’s read them all. On another shelf he has an alarm clock, a mini globe that you can't help but spin, and a baby photo of himself with what you imagine is his mother. You run your fingers along the shelves, humming in wonder when you feel an uneven ridge in one boxed section. You press on the section, gasping when it clicks to reveal a hidden drawer. You look back at the door to be sure no one is there and pull the drawer open. Inside you find a box of tissues, condoms, fabric ties, and a small black bottle of personal lubricant. “Such a naughty boy Min Yoongi.” You whisper, taking out the lube to read the label. A soft knock on the door startles you and you slam the drawer shut quickly turning to face the person entering. Yoongi enters, “Sorry, wanted to grab a hoodie. It's kind of chilly in the living room. I don’t normally sleep out there.” He chuckles, walking towards his dresser. “You don’t have to apologize, it's your room.” You murmur nervously tucking the bottle of lube under your shirt.
Yoongi looks over at you, hoodie in hand, “What are up to over there?” “Nothing, why?” He tilts his head slightly, biting his bottom lip and pointing behind you. “Find anything you like?” You turn your head and notice the drawer slightly open still. You begin to stutter out an explanation but can't seem to manage one. Soon, Yoongi is hovering over you, pushing the drawer closed until you hear a soft click. “You know, it’s rude to snoop.” He whispers, running his slender fingers along your jaw, turning your face upward to face him. You swallow hard, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” “I know naughty girl but since you did, did you find anything you like?” He looks down into your lap, almost as if he has X-ray vision and can see you fiddling with the bottle in your hand. You nibble your bottom lip, looking down and exposing the black bottle. You hold it up and watch as a sly grin spreads across Yoongi’s face, the candlelight highlighting his full pout. “And just what were you looking to do with that?” He questions. “I was just reading it.” You whisper. “Mm hm and was it an interesting read?” He takes the bottle from you, examining it, and handing it back. “Not really.” You respond breathily, entranced by how he pouts down at you. “Well, if I recall correctly naughty girl, you were not in need of any assistance when it came to getting wet. So, that bottle is lost on you.” You shrug, rolling the bottle in your hand. “Well, I’ll leave you to it naughty girl. Get some rest.” He smiles, exiting the room.
You roll the bottle in your hand, pondering to yourself what it is you really want. You bite your lip, deciding to be brave and give in to your urges. This was Yoongi, not some faceless stranger online. Yoongi would understand, embrace you, make you feel good. You jumped up out of the bed, pulling off your pants and shirt, standing only in your underwear. You walk over to Yoongi’s dresser and grab a shirt from one of the drawers, throwing it over your body. You open the door to his room quietly, peaking out to find him sitting on the couch awake, the light from his phone illuminating his face. You look over and see Hobi still passed out, mouth open, drool hitting the pillow his head is resting on. You smirk to yourself, “Here goes nothing.” You make your way out of the room and towards Yoongi. He sits up immediately, “You ok?” You nod, raising the bottle of lube in your hand. “I was thinking that maybe this is lost on me, but it won't be lost on you. It is your birthday after all. I still owe you a gift.” You look down at him and smile giddily at his widened gaze.
“What happened to your head being all over the place?” He questions, sitting up straight and eyeing you suspiciously. You shrug, removing his shirt to reveal your sheer underwear underneath. “It is all over the place but right now I’m here, in this moment with you.” He shakes his head, his breath quickening at the sight of you half naked in front of him. “Y/N, you're killing me. What do you want? I can't keep up with this back and forth.” “Shh, just let me make you feel good.” You whisper, mounting him and catching his lips in a needy kiss. He growls into your mouth, gripping your hips tightly. You run your fingers up the back of his head, keeping him locked into the kiss, while pressing your chest into his. Soon his hesitation fades and he begins to ravage your mouth with his tongue, pressing his growing erection into your core. You moan loudly when he grinds up against your heat, trailing kisses along your neck. You begin to flick your hips to rub your core along his hard on, needing friction against your swollen bud, crying out when he nibbles on your collar bone. “Fuck, you feel so good pressed against me.” He moans into the flesh of your neck, licking and sucking his way down to your cleavage. “Please god tell me these nipple rings are real?” He groans, suckling on your erect nipple through your sheer bra. You gasp at the sensation that shoots down to your dripping cunt, calling out his name when he grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing tightly, then coming down on the flesh hard with his palm. The loud *SLAP* filling the room.
Hobi groans incoherently across from you both and neither of you can help but look in his direction, just to be sure he’s still passed out. Once you realize he is still fast asleep, you begin grinding into Yoongi’s lap again, the feel of his thick cock driving you crazy. “Maybe we should go to my bedroom.” Yoongi suggests. “No, the thought of getting caught turns me on.” You moan, pressing harder into Yoongi’s erection. He can't help but throw his head back, chuckling loudly, “You never fail to surprise me naughty girl.” “Can I touch your cock now daddy?” You moan, shoving Yoongi back into the couch. His eyes go dark with heated lust and he nods, running his hands down your arms as you reach for his waist band. You keep eye contact with him as you take his length in your grasp, squeezing it and a sweet moan from his throat before pulling it from his sweats. He sucks a breath in through his teeth at the feel of you pumping his cock. “Fuck, that feels good.” “Bet I can make it better.” You say, planting a kiss on his soft pout. You grab the black bottle of lube from beside you and flip the top open, playfully allowing a long spurt to drool down his tip. He groans at the sensation, gripping your hips once again when you grab him with both hands, gliding and twisting your fists up and down his length, spreading the cool liquid about.
“Shit.” He says under his breath, dropping a hand between your thighs to rub your clothed clit. You moan, bucking your hips at his touch. “Don't, its ok. This is about you.” You whisper to him, dropping your left hand into his sweats to cup his balls, kneading and tugging at them, whilst giving him long languid strokes with your right hand. He’s a panting mess of curses, his head lolling back and forth, unsure if he wants to look down and watch you work, or stare into your eyes. “You like the way I stroke your cock daddy? Am I doing it well?” You tease, knowing the answer from his uncontrollable moans and groans. “Don’t tease, just make me cum.” He growls through clench teeth. You lick your lips happily, using your sticky hands to pull his sweats down. He lifts his hips to assist you, smirking as you gaze upon his fat cock. “Better than Trevor?” He whispers, stroking himself while you stare in awe. You grab the bottle again this time squirting the lube onto your cleavage, moving your breast apart so the cool liquid slides between your mounds. “Oh, fuck.” Yoongi whimpers, watching you drop to your knees in front of him. “Tell me if you want me to stop daddy.” You whisper, taking Yoongi’s cock from him and giving it a few strokes before leading it under your bra and between your lathered breasts.
His head falls back as you begin to squeeze your tits together, rocking your upper body back and forth across his length. “God, shit, fuck.” He chants over and over, dropping his head down to watch the show. “You’re so fucking amazing. God, please don’t stop.” He moans, gripping the couch cushions beside him. “I’m gonna make you cum for me daddy, all over my tits, all over my face.” You tease, picking up your pace, squeezing your mounds around him tighter. His breath quickens with your pace and he leans forward to free your breast, switching between tugging on your nipples and rolling your piercings between his fingers. You moan at the amazing sensation, fucking him faster with your tits, focusing attention on his sensitive tip. His mouth hangs open and soon he covers your hands with his, kissing you hard, swirling his tongue around in your mouth. “I’m gonna cum all over these amazing tits naughty girl. You’re going to look so amazing covered in my cum.” He grunts, squeezing your tits around his cock harder, hitching his hips upwards now. “Cum for me daddy.” “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He growls, his hot seed shooting out rapidly onto your tits, neck, and soon your open mouth. He sucks in a breath at the feel of you suckle on his tip, cleaning the last bits of orgasm away. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He chuckles, tilting his head and swirling his cum around on your exposed tits. “Happy Birthday daddy.” You whisper, taking his now dirty hand into your mouth to clean his digits of his mess. “Best birthday ever Y/N.” You smile at him, covering your tits up with your bra again.
“You guys are a bunch of fucking freaks. I’m going to sleep in your room Hyung. Ugh, disgusting. Add this to the list of things I never needed to see.” Hobi grumbles, making his way to Yoongi’s room. You and Yoongi stare at Hobi as he walks away in shock before looking at one another and bursting into laughter. “Please God let him not remember this in the morning.” “I thought getting caught turned you on.” “I said the thought of getting caught, not actually getting caught!” You explain. “Well, come on naughty girl, lets take a shower. I’ll return the favor for an amazing birthday gift.” “Yoongi. That’s ok. I’ll just clean up on my own. I’m still kind of in my head you know. I really like you I just, I’m not ready to be serious with you, at least not till I break things off with the guy I’m talking to.” Yoongi looks at you with pure annoyance on his face. He shakes his head and stands quickly. “I’m gonna go sleep in my office. Feel free to enjoy the couch. Thanks again for the birthday gift or whatever.” He grumbles. “Yoongi please, don’t be upset.” “I’m not mad at you Y/N. I’m mad at myself. I fall for the same bullshit over and over because I actually like you and keep thinking that something will come of this but honestly, I don’t know why? You don’t like me the way I like you. Maybe I just need to take a step back. This is torture you know. For the both of us. It’s not just you though. It’s my fault too, so, I’m sorry. Have a goodnight.” “Yoongi, please.” You whimper. “It’s all good Y/N, don’t worry about it.” Yoongi heads to his office, pulling a chain from his neck and using the key that dangles from it to unlock the door. You stare at him until he disappears completely, dropping your head into your hands once he’s gone.
72 notes · View notes
gallickingun · 4 years
Text
welded hearts || b.k.
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: You and Bakugou have to try and pick up the pieces after the incident with Awase, but neither of you are doing a very good job. It leads to distance and lies, and you’re not sure if there’s any way to save the fragments that remain of your shattered relationship. Especially when you find out that Bakugou has been tracking your every move.
Follows the events of Ensnare, an Awase x Reader x Bakugou fic written by @lady-bakuhoe​.
PAIRING: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 11.7k+
LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag
AUTHOR’S NOTE: after reading Jo’s fic, I immediately rushed to her inbox to foam at the mouth about what kind of angst would follow when Bakugou and Reader attempt to put back together what is left of their relationship, with Bakugou really not feeling like a man, and reader feeling absolutely suffocated, and this little fic was born. Also, this is my first time not tagging any blogs, I just need to start fresh. I hope everyone understands!
if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!
  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉    ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉    ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉ 
The strange combination of distance and suffocation make your head spin.
Nightmares plague your mind at night, leaving the opportunity for visions to run rampant through your sleep-deprived brain during the day. You spend the daylight hours looking over your shoulder, your forehead broken out into a constant sweat, and you spend the evenings wondering if you might have imagined the whole thing.
You wake up alone most of the time, no matter what phase of the night you are suffering through. The first few times you would go searching the house for him, wondering where his overactive body could have taken him this time. Most nights you found him at the kitchen table going over suit designs and contracts for more hero patrols and brand deals.
You’d ask him when he was coming back to bed only for those familiar vermilion eyes to pass you a blank stare and his dry voice to echo out, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to bed.”
And each night you’d listen.
You curl up beneath the covers, tugging the fabric to your chin, and stare at the wall. You attempt breathing exercises and grounding techniques, but that does not stop the shadowy figures you see in the hallway or the closet. Your imagination gets the better of you as it hallucinates the image of the culprit himself stood in your bathroom doorway, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.
“So fucking pretty,” his mouth snarls around the words, dark hair shining despite the dark. His teeth are pearlescent even in the dim moonlight filtering through your window, “Whose going to stop me? You?”
A shudder shakes your shoulders and when you blink, he’s gone, like a phantom escaped in the night. You rip your hands through your hair and tears drip down from your lids into your lap, staining the fabric of your pajama pants. Your hands shake in front of you, fingertips showing double the harder you try to concentrate.
His presence is akin to smoke billowing within your belly. The tendrils of his black cloud wrap around your spine, traveling up your torso until it sits in the base of your throat, suffocating you endlessly. Every day you spend breathing is another day fighting for relief from this monstrous thing in your chest.
Bakugou turns to much different means of coping.
At first it was sweet – him checking in on you. He would offer to come pick you up from work if you’d ever decided to leave anytime after seven, and if he was stuck on patrol or in meetings, he’d arrange a car to bring you home. When you go on your afternoon runs, he’d volunteer to go with you even though he’d done rigorous amounts of training at work.
The simplest ways he would show his sense of pride in protecting you would be to hover closely, his body within an arm’s length so he could snag you out of any bad situation if there ever were one. Still, even with his insatiable hovering tendencies, he would keep his own personal touch at bay.
At times when he would usually hold your hand or brush up against you, he stays at least three feet away. It’s as if he’s chosen to self-quarantine himself from you, deeming your affections as either insufficient or insufferable, which neither are good options to choose from.
Once it becomes overwhelming, you find yourself in too deep, too bitter. You try to reach out to him in the form of affection – brushing your palm over his hips as you pass him in the kitchen, trying to grab his hand when you’re walking together, and reaching out to touch his shoulders when he faces away from you the few nights he does end up in bed.
To shout out now would be hypocritical, as you have had a part in pushing him further from you, isolating his affectionate touches even further. Yet, the longer he keeps himself from brushing even his clothed thigh against you when he passes you by in the kitchen or at the grocery store, you wonder who is actually suffering from the lack of physical affection and who is merely existing.
Eventually he grows more suffocating.
Bakugou will not let you be out of his sight for longer than a few minutes at a time despite sitting opposite from you on every surface he can find. You have started to hide in the bathroom, proclaiming cramps or bad pork before skittering off to the bathroom with your phone clutched in the grasp of your fingers, if only to find some peace from his prying eyes for a few moments at a time.
He has never been so clingy before, and you know that it is laced with the trauma as a result of the Awase situation. However, this doesn’t make it any easier to stomach his lurking. On the other hand, it adds a stinging sensation at the irony of it all.
Bakugou wants to be completely involved in every facet of your life without even kissing you good morning when he hands you your coffee.
You knew that what had happened with Awase all those weeks ago had to have affected him, coloring his outlook on life no matter how bleak it had been before. With each passing day he grows closer to you, hands metaphorically wrapped around your throat, squeezing every last pound of air from your tongue. But still, you never imagined that he would take t his far.
And so, you lie through your teeth.
Yaoyorozu was invited to the grand opening of a bar in the plaza sector of the city, and she invites you and the other girls for a night out. You know that if Bakugou heard about you going on about visiting a bar and intending to drink, he’d say some new form of the word ‘no’ and persuade you with his big, round, crimson eyes to stay home.
There were too many safety hazards, after all. Especially if you are going to be drinking. Your senses would be impaired, and you would be much easier to take advantage of once you are two shows into the wind. And then Bakugou would casually remind you that Momo normally finds a guy and ditches you, thus forcing you into taking a cab ride home, which creates an entirely new set of problems.
Which is why, when you tell him why you won’t be home tonight, you lie, “It’s just a sleepover, like back in high school! Momo and Ochako wanted to get back together and I think Mina might even be coming too!”
Bakugou nods, looking over the top of his combat training manual, “Just let me know if you need me to come pick you up, alright?”
You nod, not daring to reach forward and try to brush your hand against his forearm, afraid he might recoil or redirect you. Instead you force a smile, nodding your head as you open the door, “Momo is picking me up, and she said she’d be fine with driving me back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
His posture visibly relaxes at the sentiment. It is maddening how one simple shift of his composure makes you want to barrel into him, to forget your entire night and attempt to curl up with him on the couch. It has been so long since you last felt his touch, even in a casual sense. The bar counter top acts like a prison, barring him from you as he isolates himself.
“Have fun,” he manages, eyes falling away from you.
And you’re glad, too. At least when he’s not looking at you, he can’t read your face for lies. Bakugou is like a human lie detector, able to sense any unease in your usually relaxed posture.
Of course he has no reason to disbelieve you – why would you lie to him in the first place? You have preyed on that trust, a thing you feel so despicable for even considering, the fib scraping against your teeth like nails on a chalkboard. You wince at his tone, unbelievably naïve, but the door stays open regardless of your conviction.
The lie rolls around in your belly like a parasite, preying on the poor decisions and leeching on your inhibitions. You feel it suffocating your throat as you blow a kiss his direction, telling him not to wait up as you readjust your backpack full of overnight accessories and a change of clothes that is slung over your right shoulder.
Bakugou smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which only further feeds the parasitic being taken up a home in your stomach. It sits heavy on your tongue when you tell him goodnight, threatening to chew right through your cheek until it’s been bared to the whole world.
He nods, licking his lips as he watches you leave. You wave one last time as you shut the door, guilt eating you alive until you feel tears press against the backs of your eyelids. You swallow your conscience and head towards the car you recognize as Momo’s, the weight of your club clothes sitting heavy in your backpack. You cinch it closer to you, praying that Bakugou hasn’t somehow developed x-ray vision to be able to see through your bag.
And yet, a part of you wants him to come barreling down the stairwell to beg you to come back inside, back home. You want him to whisper your name like a prayer, his hands outstretched so you can reach forward to slot your knuckles between his.
At least in your hallucinations he still wants you.
--
Once you’re at the club bar, it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself in a drunken stupor.
“Listen,” you slur, pointing a finger into Momo’s ample chest, “I-I’m not sayin’ he’s gotta dick me down every night, b-but like-once?!”
You take a long drag of beer, swallowing the acidic liquid until it’s burning your throat. You slam your cup back down on the table top, pursing your lips as you take in a deep breath, “I mean it’s been months, guys. Months.”
“A-Are you serious?” Uraraka leans in closer to you, eyes widened, “N-Not since-”
“Nope,” you huff, slumping down in the booth seat. “I-I know that since the incident that things have been different, but it’s like he doesn’t even want me anymore.”
Momo reaches her arm around your shoulder, tucking you into her side, “I’m sure he just doesn’t know how to handle all of it, and he’s just trying to do his best.”
“Bakugou?” Mina laughs, bright eyes hidden behind her lids as she screws her face up into a giggle. She takes a sip of her beer, propping her feet on the nearest unoccupied table, and sighs, “Good luck with that one, babes. I don’t see things returning back to normal anytime soon, not with how damn stubborn he can be.”
The beginning of a fresh set of tears presses like a crater into the backs of your eyes, a pulsing headache drawing out a groan from your lips. You drop your forehead to the tabletop and relish at the cool surface opposing your heated flesh, “I-I know that normal isn’t exactly an option yet, but I would like to feel like I wasn’t so fucking alone in my own house, y’know? I mean, he’s right there and yet it’s like I’m there all by myself?”
Your phone buzzes from within your purse and there is a collective grouching that echoes from everyone at the table, sour expressions making it obvious the way they feel about your ringtone. Momo crosses her arms over her chest, “You do realize this is the seventeenth time he’s called you, right?”
You reach into your purse but her hand is on your wrist before you can snatch your phone. She shakes her head and Mina huffs through her nose, “Why can’t you just put that thing on silent? When is he going to stop bugging you?”
“Yeah?” Momo brushes her thumb against your forearm, “Didn’t you tell him you were coming out with us tonight?”
A bright red tinge sits hot on your cheeks, making your skin look flushed. Your friends understand your conflict then, sitting back from you in shame. Mina is the first to speak, “You lied?”
“I-well, I couldn’t just-” You rack your brain for the right words to say to defend yourself, sweat accumulating at the base of your back in droves. You want to run away, but there’s nowhere to go. If you head home now, Bakugou will most likely have a full rant ready for you as soon as you walk in the door.
“You can’t keep lying to him like this,” Momo presses her palm to your cheek, brushing away a tear before it can slip down your face, “You’re going to have to be honest with him eventually. He needs to back off, to let you live. There’s no reason he has to be attached to you like an umbilical cord all of the time.”
“His concern is kind of nice, though,” Jirou speaks up.
Your head snaps towards her and she shrugs, “All I’m saying is at least he’s trying to protect you. He’s not completely self-absorbed after all.”
Before you can try to refute her or defend him, your phone starts ringing once more. Your hand dives into your purse, pulling it from within and looking down at it like that might keep it from ringing any longer.
“I don’t understand!” You’re whining now, fresh saltine droplets settling in your lashes. You wipe at your face, “I-I don’t get why he won’t just leave me the hell alone. I told him exactly what I was doing tonight, exactly where I was going and who I was going to be with. I just-”
“Except you lied.”
You feel all of the heat leave your body, only frozen fingertips and an icy, rigid spine left behind.
You turn your head at the familiar baritone voice that cuts into you from behind, and your heart drops into your stomach. When you breathe, the parasitic thing living there begins to swallow your stomach whole, gnawing away at your most sensitive parts first.
You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to feel anger instead of shame, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What, pray tell, the fuck are you doing here?!” Bakugou snaps, eyes a conflagration of brassy tones, pupils dilated to prove his anger, as if it weren’t so evident from his tone.
Mina goes to speak up when she sees you flinch, but you’re already being dragged out from the safety of the booth seat. Bakugou’s blunt nails are digging into your bicep and forearm like little spears, snagging you so you can’t get away. He yanks you into the hallway, your back pressed into the wall as he further infringes on your space with his closeness.
“You fuckin’ lied to me?”
His voice is held together by rage, begging to be broken apart as he lets the feelings seep through the cracks of his resolve. Bakugou’s jaw quivers as he grinds his teeth together, heaving breaths making his chest expand to brush against your own. It’s the closest thing you’ve felt to intimacy since that night in the alley – since he decided to pretend that you and your needs didn’t exist.
You want to start bubbling out another fib, foaming at the mouth with lies so smooth he’d have to believe them. Your brain is stumbling in attempt to keep up with his fast paced thinking. Every phrase you could possibly say to make this go down like honey instead of vinegar passes through your mind, but you know that this will sting no matter how long you put off trying to swallow it.
The intentions you have now, to make everything easier on him and spare his emotions, have been tainted by your conniving words from before. You weren’t preparing for a confessional in the middle of this hole-in-the-wall bar, but not every night goes exactly how you plan it.
The both of you understand that sentiment rather intimately.
Bakugou’s eyes are ablaze, vermilion bleeding to amber nearest his pupils. His jawline is flexed, nostrils flaring, and you know that laced within his anger is something akin to fright, fearfulness. Every single feature he possesses is pinched tightly, as if his body were wound like a coil, and he is going to snap at any moment.
And then, when your mouth bobs open and shut, and you can’t find the right lie to squeeze between your teeth, you begin putting the whole situational puzzle back together. Anger replaces the acrid taste in your mouth, cinders of fury settling on your tongue the more it all starts to make sense.
Your eyes meet his and he feels the shift, his grip on your arm lessening at the sight of your furious irises honing in on him. The reality that he is not as innocent as you would like to believe seeps into your skin, settling like sticky acid, and you itch religiously to get it off of you.
“How did you know that I was here?” you ask, voice eerily calm as your vision begins to blur at the edges. You gnaw on your lower lip, tilting your head to consider every falter in his expression, “I told you I was going to be at Yaoyorozu’s. You had no idea that-”
You can’t help the choking sound that comes from your throat next, gagging on your words as pure fury overwhelms your body. Your shoulders shudder under the strain of these destructive emotions as realization settles in. Even the fear in his own irises cannot stop the tumultuous build of vehemence that seeps through you like molten lava, crawling upwards through your veins until all you can see is red – blinding red.
You’re repeating your question when it appears he won’t answer you to speak the truth; eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkled. Your jawline pulsates with muscle tremors as you grit your teeth down fervently, a high-pitched whining sound echoing within your own skull at the action, “What did you do, Katsuki?”
It’s not a question, though, not this time.
Bakugou’s throat bobs and before he can give you some shitty, half-thought out excuse, you’re poking your finger into his chest, directly between the taut line of his pectorals, “Where is it?”
“Wh-What?” he manages to cough out, tongue bitten between his teeth.
You take a step back with each question of the location, chin wobbling in denial, “My bag? My phone? My car? Did you put it in me, Katsuki?”
The sound of his given name dripping like toxic acid from your tongue makes his heart constrict within the confines of his chest. The organ beats at a thunderous pace, so hard that he’s sure there is an outlined bruise in the shape of it if you were to peel his shirt back and look. Still, he knows better than to argue with you – knows even better than to try and deny it. You are a human lie detector when it comes to him. You know his mannerisms so well that you’re able to spot a stuttering breath from a mile off, even the smallest of hints to his dastardly secret-keeping seeming like bright white lights to you.
He has backed himself into a corner in trying to keep you safe, so he admits with his head hung low, “Your phone.”
A shuddering breath makes your chest collapse, jaw fallen slack at the confession. Your spirit was praying that he might have just found out from a friend, maybe Kirishima discovered that you were out with Momo and Mina and told him. But no, now he’s admitted to the crime and he knows that he’ll have to face the punishment.
You want to root around in your purse until you’ve found the offending object, but it’s not the time, at least not right now. He can’t take advantage of using it while you’re both still in the same location. You’ll have to handle it later.
“How long?” you ask, voice small.
Bakugou does not answer immediately. His eyes are downcast, unable to meet yours as his lower lip quivers just enough for you to make it out in the dim light of the bar. Your heart thrums at the sight of him so distraught, but you lock your knees and force your body to straighten your spine and steel your resolve.
You repeat the question, digging your fingertip into his skin until you are sure that you’ve drawn blood underneath the fabric of his black tank top.
He snaps, the blood vessels in his neck thudding against the tanned skin there, “Since Awase, when the fuck else do you think?”
And just like that, your entire body is thrown back in time. You are that helpless woman in that alleyway, your body used for the lustful gratification of someone else, thrown to the side like a plaything when he was through. You feel hands, lips, skin, all over you, torturing your body even now when you are awake. The ghost of his crooked touch makes your eyes water, thick droplets sticking to your lashes.
The sound of that villain’s name makes your ears burn and your tongue turn to sandpaper. A chill runs down your spine despite the massive blanket of heat in the room from all the bodies burning with alcohol and movement. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes unable to focus as you attempt to come back to this version of reality.
A single tear drips down your cheek, but Bakugou knows better than to try and wipe it away like he might if it were any other time.
“I-I can’t believe this,” you murmur, withdrawing your finger from him to cover your mouth with both hands. You blink slowly, turning your gaze from him to the floor, taking it all in with stride, attempting to breathe as evenly as possible while still processing everything unfolding in front of you.
Bakugou reaches up to touch your elbow, just enough contact to try and bring you back down to earth. Your eyes snap upward, meeting his vermilion gaze with an expression opposing your fiery wit from earlier. He’s never seen your body waver in such a way that would leave him to believe you to be weak, but now all he wants is to hold you between his arms, piecing you back together bone-by-bone, vessel-by-vessel.
You’re lost in the simplistic touch of him, the first you’ve felt in what you know to be weeks, but believe to be eons. He has been so distant from you that you almost forget why you are angry when he’s this close to you, suffocating your body in the best of ways. You can smell the telltale sign of his quirk, an ashen sweetness that you are sure you’ve become addicted to throughout the entirety of your relationship.
A breath bites through your lungs and you sharply cut your teeth into the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself out of your dazed stupor brought on by isolation. As you open your eyes again, you steel yourself, stepping up with brazen confidence to slap away his hand from your arm.
The burning flames licking at your throat turn to white-hot rage, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Katsuki, but this controlling me shit has got to stop.”
His eyes refocus on yours again, pupils swallowing those pretty red globes whole, fear riddling every bone in his fragile body, “Wh-What are you talking about?”
Now it is you who has backed him into a corner, his backside and shoulder pushing against the wall. He tries to reach out to stop you, to beg for your forgiveness, but the stony expression in your irises tells him that he needs to be still an listen no matter how many biting insults and wanton words sit on his tongue.
“You’re breathing down my neck, Bakugou,” you inhale a shuddering breath at the sound of his surname being forced through your teeth. Tears lick at the corner of your eyes, your fists shaking by your sides, “I can’t take a shit without you wondering why I’m gone for longer than three minutes. You’ve been so fucking controlling that I can’t even go out with my friends without you needing to make it a momentous occasion!”
“You lied to me, for fucks sake!” Bakugou presses into you, snarling around his words. “You expect me to just forget that? What else have you been lying about?”
Your teeth clatter against one another, rattling around in your head, “I had to! You’ve been this glass case of emotion lately! And you won’t even let me walk home alone! I feel like I have a damn shadow everywhere I go!”
“I’m trying to-”
A thought hits you then, mulling you over so powerfully that you stumble backward, putting distance between the two of you. Your gaze falters from him to the wall, unable to look him in the eyes as you utter the next few syllables, “You don’t trust me?”
Bakugou is quick to refute you, stepping forward to take you out of your haze, “Hell no, baby! Of course, I trust you.”
“You put a goddamn tracker on my phone!” you snap, muscles quivering beneath your skin as your entire body tenses at the statement. Tears settle in your lids, dripping down over your cheek when you force him off of you. “What the hell am I supposed to think?”
He reaches out and wraps you up in his arms forcefully, despite your thrashing and shoving. You tear into him with your words and your touch, trying to punch him even though your range of motion is rather limited. Bakugou puts his chin on the top of your head, bottling you up like liquid rage, holding you together as you try to fall apart.
Bakugou has one hand against the back of your head, hands tucked into the tresses of your hair to cradle your head into the curve of his neck. His other palm rubs up and down the length of your arm as he tries to calm you down from your frenzied state, the loud music and pulsing bodies in the background of the bar doing little to deter your heightened temper.
You gulp as you feel his mouth bury into the crown of your head, kisses sprinkled into your hair like little flowers, petals of kind words tucked against your scalp. Bakugou wants to take you by the hand and drag you home, to curl up with you for the first time since that horrible night in the alleyway, and whisper promises into your skin until he goes hoarse.
You tilt your head upward, face shining bright with tears, nose bumping into his chin, “The-Then why do you-”
Katsuki nudges his nose over yours, a shuddering breath making his lip tremble against the bow of your mouth. A snarling growl rips his throat wide open as every feral, primal instinct buried deep within him is unleashed, “Are you really that dense, dumbass?”
The insult takes you by surprise, facial expression souring as you roll your tongue against your teeth, attempting to swallow the acidic retort sitting on the tip of the muscle in your mouth. Bakugou watches you with a careful eye, making sure that you aren’t going to speak up before he tries to rephrase himself.
“Listen, I just-I…” The words are caught in his throat, raking into his esophagus like shards of glass. Bakugou hates being vulnerable, especially with you. It makes him feel raw, torn open, and uncomfortable. He wants to be the pillar of strength you believe him to be, and how can he prove that he’s worthy of your trust when he feels so weak?
And yet, with you standing in front of him with expectant eyes and shaking hands, he finds it within himself to say what has been plaguing his mind for weeks.
“This shitstorm happened to me too, y’know?”
He sounds so heartbreakingly honest that it makes your skin prickle. A chill tightens like a coil around your spine, spreading shards of ice throughout your veins until your whole body is burning from the frigid feeling, fingertips numb.
Bakugou’s mouth bobs open and shut before he tears a hand through his hair, the other never leaving your body, frustrated at the fact that he can’t think of the right things to say. He looks up at the ceiling, a breath expanding his chest so he’s flush with you.
“Every fucking time I close my eyes, I see that shit all over again.” The veins in his body are prominent as he stresses himself out by trying to speak, “I see you, helpless, because I fucked up and lost focus. I-I couldn’t do anything and you needed me an-”
He can’t force the words out, can’t muster them up from the back of his throat no matter how many times he licks at the inside of his mouth, desperately searching his own skin for the answers. The reality of what might come to fruition when he says his truth out loud is too much to bear, no matter how much he knows he has to have this conversation with you. This is not something you both can just move on from, not without addressing it in all of its ugliness first. He wills the words to come out, closing his eyes and breathing deep. And even still, his mind will not cal.
Katsuki is a raging sea and you are the rickety lifeboat caught in his violent storm.
You swirl in his vortex for a moment longer before prodding him, hand pressed flat against his chest. You brush your thumb over his collarbone, “Katsuki, come on, talk to me. Please.”
Bakugou’s hand flinches by his side and you wonder if he wants to reach out to touch you with the pads of his fingers; to use you like an anchor, weighing him down in the right in the right way to bring him back to the current version of reality.
“I’m right here,” you whisper, pushing him further, knowing what he’s trying to tell you, but needing to hear it from his own tongue.
You step into his space and crowd him into the tight expanse of the hallway, and he can’t draw his eyes away from you despite the shame he feels from the tears currently clouding his vision. Every naysayer in his life comes to him in that very moment, telling him that he’s weak and spineless, completely useless if he can’t do the simplest of tasks. They scream at him, clawing at his heart until he’s bleeding out tears, hands shuddering in pain.
All he wants is to see you smiling again; a genuine, shining smile. He wants to watch as your eyes light up when he kisses you, or when he touches you here and there, casually in passing. Bakugou misses the old kindling the two of you had before that fateful night all those weeks ago. There was a familiarity that now feels lost in translation, wafting somewhere between the space separating the both of you.
You’re begging him in his ear now, words lodged like knives into his heart, a new syllable signifying a new blade, “Why are you doing this, Katsuki? Please, tell me!”
That is the last one – the proverbial blade that shoves its way through is spine to split him in two. He can’t help the way his voice shatters when he finally breaks, falling forward on weak knees, “To fucking protect you! Goddammit!”
You take a short step backward, shuffling away from him at his sudden furious outburst, the change in volume startling you. Goosebumps pebble on your skin and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you, settling in your stomach to eat away at your resolve, that same parasite from earlier flaring up all over again. You swallow the pent-up emotion in your throat, but Bakugou isn’t finished, not yet. Now that he’s finally been ripped open, he can’t stop the flow.
“Every night you’d get further and further away from me,” his hands are flexing at his sides, knuckles turning white, little crackling explosions lighting like a warning sign, “And I can’t fucking get over this shit, okay?!”
The familiar ashen sweetness lingers in the air at the bare minimum usage of his quirk, but it’s comforting in a way. You breathe it in and try to stave off any tears from stemming down your cheeks. It is his turn to crumble, to fall down at your feet and beg for you to help him repair the gaping wound in his chest.
As you watch him fall apart, it’s physically painful to witness the way his body quivers, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into use. His lower lip, full and pink, is wobbling while he tries to form coherent sentences. You’ve never wanted to reach out and touch him more, to calm him with a tender brush of your knuckles over his cheek, or a hand flattened onto the plane of his chest. But he is too far away from you now, distant in the worst way.
It’s like he’s a figurative bomb, building up and ready to detonate. Each passing moment only fills him with more gunpowder, stuffing his throat until he’s suffocating under the notion that he can’t save you. Has he ever been capable of keeping you from harm?
“I-I was weak,” his voice breaks and so does his façade, tears brimming in the ducts of his reddened lids, “I let that fucker get the best of me, and i-it cost you. You were hurt because I couldn’t protect you.”
Bakugou’s palms shudder at his sides, fingers curling around smoke. You want to step forward, to reassure him that he is the furthest thing from weak that you have ever seen, but he cowers from you when you get too close. He reminds you of a caged animal finally set free, unsure of where to step, how to breathe all of the fresh air at once. Almost as if he is withholding himself from you now that his confession has broken through the bars around his heart, echoed loud for you to hear.
“Throwing yourself into danger isn’t going to help,” you answer him, “and neither is suffocating me.”
The fire fueling your bones from earlier returns at the realization that he has been distancing himself from you on purpose. You assumed it had been a subconscious decision based on the trauma experienced from the encounter with Awase, but you never would have guessed he was actively choosing to ignore you, especially physically. And now, with his hands shaking at his sides, you are beginning to wonder if he feels the same pull that you do, the desire to let your palms search one another’s skin to find the answers to your innermost questions.
“The only thing I’m any good at is fighting!” Bakugou falls back against the wall, eyes downcast in defeat as his shoulders slump forward. He opens his palms in front of his body, flexing his fingers. “All I can do is work as hard as I possibly can to be the best. I have to be the best.”
He curls his fingers back to fists, fury coursing through his veins like fire, accumulating in his palms to a head, a bomb settled in the cracks and crevices of his skin. “All I can focus on right now is getting stronger, to be a hero that you can trust to keep you safe.”
When his eyes snap up to meet yours, there’s a flame burning deep in his vermilion irises that makes them look alight, the bright amber color in contrast to their usual hue. It frightens you slightly, sending a tremor down your spine until you are curling your toes.
Bakugou’s hands creak as he turns them to fists, knuckles turning white, “I’ll be the best, even if it kills me.”
The very permanent word involving mortality turns your knees to jelly, bones grinding against one another in a desperate attempt to keep yourself upright. Your throat closes, emotion billowing like smoke in your esophagus until it is pushing into every available space, effectively choking you where you stand.
“Y-You don’t have to be so, so,” you struggle to find the words, breath hard to come by as you gasp for air, “so-”
“So what?!” Bakugou’s voice is patronizing now as he grows defensive at your tone, taking a downward turn to the other side of kind. He grits his teeth and you allow yourself to see him for what he truly is in this moment – a frightened child, begging for a savior, or at least some solid ground. He grimaces, shaking his head, “I couldn’t protect you when I needed to. And if I can’t keep you safe, what else am I good for?”
Silence hangs between the two of you at the heaviness of his words, creating an even further distance as his words settle like embers on your heart.
You want to brush the cinders away, blowing the ash into the wind and along with it, the horrific memories from the past few weeks. His name sits on the tip of your tongue, scratching at the muscle and begging to be freed from the cage of your teeth. Your fingertips ache at your sides, keening towards him with the desire to find something to feel, some tactile version of reality to reaffirm that you have not lost everything. The heaviness in your feet keeps you from shuffling forward, tucking yourself into his body and promising him that you’ll never see him as anything short of incredible.
“See?” Bakugou’s voice shatters into another wave of jagged pieces with every longing look you give him, tossing his arms in the air to show his defeat, “And then you go and do shit like this, where you look at me like I put the fuckin’ sun in the sky every morning.”
He’s wheezing the words out now, manic movements jerking his arms and shoulders, praying that his palms might go off in the middle of this club so you both can get booted out and forced to go home. Maybe then he can break through the barrier of how he has been feeling to show you why he’s treated you like a child.
“How the hell am I supposed to live up to this pillar of greatness you’ve made me out to be? This perfect image of me you have in your mind is a lie,” Bakugou is begging you for an answer with his gestures. His hands reach towards you, never touching, eyebrows cocked upward as his eyes search your face for a secret message hidden beneath your skin. “You think that I can do no wrong, that I’ll always be your hero. And now that I’ve fucked that up, and you still look at me the same exact way, how am I supposed to live with that? With being a fraud?”
Bakugou blinks and two identical tear droplets seep over the corners of his lids, tracking down his cheeks as he gasps for air, “I-I can’t help it when you look at me like I have all the answers when I-I can’t even fuckin’ figure out how I-”
You cover him like sunlight, warm and safe. He feels your mouth against his, your hands on his face and chest and its like you’ve pulled him from where he was floating midair back down to the ground again. Bakugou’s body is flush between your torso and the wall, either side of him pressed into something. He is hot, too hot, like his body temperature has skyrocketed. Sweat trickles down his spine, sticking his shirt to his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you part from him.
Your nose brushes against his, the bow of your lips still touching when you speak, “I haven’t been very considerate of you. I was too wrapped up in the way I was feeling that I didn’t stop to consider how it has been affecting you.”
You palm at his face, fingertips fawning over his cheek bones and brows and temples. Bakugou’s jaw is quivering, hands still dormant by his sides, flexed until his palms are splotched red with effort. You run your hand up from his chest to his shoulder, kneading the heel into his muscles to try and relax his body.
“Katsuki,” you call to him. “Look at me.”
And he listens.
The trail of your fingertips on his forearm feels like gasoline, trickling down his skin slowly but surely, making its way to his palms where his skin will act like a detonator. Bakugou grinds his teeth together as he tries to stay focused in on your face, the effort from it all makes the vein on his forehead protrude, thudding profusely beneath his skin.
“Take me home.”
--
The walk up the stairs to your door is tense, quiet.
Bakugou turns the key into the lock, the door opening with a gentle click. The two of you step inside, your bags strewn on the countertop and your shoes kicked off near the mat. Your hands wring in front of you as he faces away, the only visible thing being his backside.
“I don’t deserve you.”
The words take you by surprise, shaking you to your core. You stumble backward, hand clutched over your heart when it starts to sting, “Wh-Why do you think-”
“Do you know what it’s like to have people’s lives put into your hands, and then to fuck it all up?” Bakugou turns to look at you, hands glowing with the threat of his quirk, “To put the one person you care about more than fucking breathing into danger?”
His jaw quivers, “You didn’t see the look in your eyes when he was putting you through that shit. You were looking to me for help and I was fucking welded to a goddamn wall!”
You reach out to press your fingertip into the center of his palm, diffusing the built-up nitroglycerin in the crevices of his skin. Bakugou’s shoulders shudder, his eyes widening at your touch. You force a smile, but it does not reach your eyes, and he notices.
“Hey,” you call to him, your other hand drifting up to cup his cheek, trying to turn him towards you. “Stop that. Look at me.”
Bakugou’s eyes stop flitting around and focus on you, connecting your gazes. He looks frightened again, like a scared child. All you want is to hold him tight and put him back together again until he feels whole.
You push yourself up onto your toes, nudging your nose over his cheek slowly. You’re taken aback when you feel his hesitant touch dredge over your hip, thumb just beneath your top. It’s the most intimate feeling you’ve received from him in weeks, and it sends every atom of you on high alert. Your spine tingles as you stutter-step forward until you’re pressed into him.
Your breath hitches at his closeness, fanning out over him in a wave of heat that makes him shiver. You feel your heart ready to explode from within the confines of your chest, begging to be let free as it tries to claw its way out of your ribcage. You can’t look away from him, it’s like he’s turned into a magnet for your body.
As you graze over his chest with your other hand, the one against his cheek brushes up into his hair to card through the blonde strands. Your thumb catches against the stubble of his undercut just behind his pierced ears and it makes you smile, remembering the conversation where you coerced him into getting the new haircut in the first place. And now he can’t go a couple weeks without getting it shaped back up.
“Kiss me,” you plead, your touch like that of a siren, calling him deeper into the water, “please, Katsuki.”
In spite of him suffocating you mentally and situationally, you know that he’s been distant physically. It wasn’t hard to realize the shift in affections, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to his wayward glances and casual touches. Once he started to withdraw from you, you began to worry but your own anxiety wound so tightly around your body that it drowned out any other inhibitions that might have drawn you closer to asking questions. Bakugou has never been one to bare his emotions anyway.
Every morsel of him wants to dive headfirst into your waters, to drink you in through his nose and mouth until it is only the essence of you that remains. And yet there is something holding him back, like strings attached to his shoulders, forcing him to stay still.
It is that very look in your eyes right now that keeps him at bay. The reality that you’ve not tainted your view of him makes his stomach churn. You should hate him for letting Awase take advantage of you. You should want to slap him across the face and punch him in the gut. You should want to rip your fingers into his chest and slay him where he stands, cutting a gaping hole where his heart once was, filling it with a black ooze that might represent your disdain and disappointment.
Anything other than this overwhelming prideful look gleaming in your eyes that tells him he could do no wrong.
The sight of it brings tears to his eyes and he has to look away, the weight of it all too stifling as he attempts to breathe again. Bakugou struggles with oxygen, feeling lightheaded as you stand so near to him.
“Look at me,” you beg of him, your own voice sounding raw. You swallow every possible reticence you might have in this moment and focus all of your energy on him, “I love you, okay? There’s nothing you could do to change that, Katsuki. Nothing, so-”
You’re cut off mid-sentence by the familiar feel of his lips, warm and full against your mouth. He has captured you entirely, his hands on your face as he steps in closer to you. You shudder with tears at the sensation of him kissing you for the first time in weeks. A wash of warmth seeps through your body, starting at your head and curling around your spin until it has reached your toes. You feel lightheaded at it all, so wrapped up in him that you can’t focus on anything else.
Bakugou’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his body squatted in front of you to push himself closer into every crevice of available skin. You dip your hands beneath his top, the pads of your fingers mapping out the contours of his muscular frame.
“Fuck,” he murmurs between your teeth, your tongue catching the word by lapping against his gums.
His hands find your backside, squeezing the supple skin like his life depends on it. You moan, rolling your hips forward. Your mind is foggy, your entire being in a haze, at the passionate way his hands obsess over your body.
When he taps your hips with his thumbs, you know what it means. You leap upward, his forearms catching your thighs to wrap you around his waistline. You don’t break away from kissing him. You’re not sure after this if he might retreat back into himself, so you full well intend on milking him for all that he’s worth in every aspect of the word.
The next thing you feel is the cool sheets beneath your steaming backside, sweat making your shirt cling to your body. Your hand sifts through Bakugou’s hair and he nips at your lower lip, relishing in the way the moans fall freely from your tongue.
He sits back on his thighs, tugging his shirt over his head, when he mumbles, “Shirt. Off. Now.”
The momentary burst of authority makes your cunt clench beneath the lace of your underwear. Your eyes go wide, but you do not hesitate to pull the offending fabric from your upper half. Bakugou has settled between your thighs when you can finally see him again. He makes quick work of your bra, flinging the garment across the room carelessly before swooping in to begin sucking at your chest.
He tweaks one piqued nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the other side of you preoccupied with his mouth. You whine, bucking your hips upward. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you can make out the impression of his bulging erection. The thought of getting to feel his dick again makes you keen, reaching up to thread your hand into his hair, the other palm digging fingernails into the thick, corded muscle of his shoulders.
“Damn, Princess,” he murmurs as he releases your nipple with a pop. “Such a good girl for me.”
Your breath shudders out of your lungs, fanning over his hair to make the strands shake in the darkness of your bedroom. You wrap your legs around his midsection to try and grind yourself up into his clothed length.
Bakugou slips his hand beneath your shorts, unbuttoning them swiftly as his middle finger finds your clit immediately. You can’t help it when your whole body goes rigid, the once lost sensation of his hands on your lower half returning in a blinding wave of white-hot pleasure.
“Please, Katsuki,” you force yourself to look him in the eyes even though you think you’re seeing stars, “I just want you, please. I want you in me.”
He’s hesitant when he looks down at you, eyes stuttering over which of your features to focus on first. The tip of his middle finger is brushed up against your slick folds, not delving in just yet. Your chest is heaving, eyes clouded with the threat of tears while you palm at him, desperate for every inch of his skin to be mapped out beneath your fingerprints.
“You have me,” he whispers, cracking voice barely audible. He nods, slipping his finger slowly between the walls of your cunt, “You have me, baby.”
As he starts to coil his finger within you, the squelching sound of his digit and your pussy echoing off the walls, he looks you directly in the eyes. His free hand is near your head but you wish he’d touch you with it, your body insatiably itching for his next pass. You lick your lips and go to beg for him again, unwilling to sit through the torture of his fingers, but he stops you with a kiss.
“Let me do this, let me make you feel good.”
You are speechless, left only with a gaping mouth that is claimed by his tongue. He licks at your teeth and cheeks, whining for you to reciprocate while his finger still pumps in and out of you, knuckle dragging in a tantalizing way against your smooth walls. You hold him as tightly as you can by the neck, keeping him anchored to you, the fear of him running away from you again settling like a lead anchor in your belly.
It doesn’t take long for him to push you to the edge of your first orgasm. You’ve been denied of him for so long that you’re sure you could come undone under any circumstance at this point. But still, his thick digits curled up in the heat of you, coaxing forth the first white-hot wave of pleasure makes your body shudder.
“Katsuki,” you pant, rolling your hips in time with his finger’s thrusts.
The coil within your stomach starts to bunch up, so you clench around his finger. You whine, throwing your head back, jaw hung slack. Bakugou kisses up the column of your neck, “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it for me, yeah? You’re so pretty when you come apart.”
His encouragement is what throws you over the edge. You’ve missed the sound of his timbre coaching you into orgasm after orgasm. You cry out, your voice breaking, and your hips fall slack against the mattress as the pleasure digs into you. The silvery strands of your slick coat his fingers, but he doesn’t part from you until he’s sure that he’s lured every last whimper from your lips, every last wash of arousal from your hips.
You have him by the neck, digging your fingers in to pull him back towards your mouth for another drawn out kiss. Your nose and teeth clash, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here and he’s got his hands on you. The way your body sings at his caress does not go unnoticed by him, or rather he relishes in it, basking in the sound of your wanton moans and the reaction of your begging limbs.
“Please, Katsuki,” you’re grabbing for him as he pulls away. Your fingers desperately cling to his skin, digging in and forcing half-moon prints into the tanned flesh, “I need you, please.”
The words throw him back to those moments in the alleyway when your eyes screamed the phrase you’re speaking now. He was powerless to help you then, but he can be the one to save you now.
Bakugou stands to his feet and shuffles out of his pants, his cock throbbing between his thighs when he pulls away his briefs. You try to tug down your shorts but your body is so weak and you can’t force your brain to communicate with your extremities, so you end up pouting, hot tears clouding your eyes in frustration.
“Hey,” he nudges his nose over your cheek before kissing you long enough for you to forget about your predicament. Your body molds to his intentions, hands finding his undercut to sift through the short hair there, his skin providing you with some sense of calm despite the raging emotions thudding like thunder in your brain.
He gently tugs down your shorts, peeling them from your ankles before depositing them on the floor. Bakugou runs his hand down his cock, using his bead of pre-come and what remains of your arousal on his hand to lubricate the skin. You’re salivating at the sight of him, inflamed red cockhead ready to split your cunt wide open. You’ve missed the familiarity of him inside of you, and your body notices because despite just having a spectacular orgasm that should have put you to bed for some time, your pussy flutters as a new wave of slick trickles down to the sheets.
The tip of his cock opens your pussy up enough that you’re keening forward, pleading to take more of him with the canting of your hips. You whimper out beseeching words, eyes searching his face as your hands try to find purchase on his shoulders. He shakes his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “Hush, baby. I promise I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”
The duality of his words is not lost on you.
Your jaw hangs open slightly, eyes wide as you look up at him. Bakugou grips the headboard with one hand, the other guiding his cock into your heat. If you look close enough, you can see the threat of glassy tears washing over his pretty red irises, making them look like little jewels in the moonlight filtering through your bedroom windows.
“Katsuki,” you whimper his name like a prayer as he slowly sheaths himself between your folds. He grunts when the base of his cock meets the lips of your pussy, eyelids fluttering somewhere between open and shut at the sensation.
He drops his head, gritting his teeth, “Fuck, I missed you.”
A relieved, broken laugh shakes your throat, the smile left behind making Bakugou see stars. You palm at his chest, “I missed you too, so much.”
The two of you have still been together every day, even sleeping in the same bed, and yet you’ve been so distant it was heartbreaking. You feel the shards of your shattered heart slowly piecing back together with each thrust he throttles into you, his hips slamming into your thighs.
It’s intense, but somehow graceful. Bakugou is not just ramming his cock into you for the sake of doing it, but he’s proving to you with every stroke of him that he’s never leaving your side again. He’s gripping the headboard so hard that his nails are leaving scratches, but you’re more focused with the tantalizing snap of his hips, the drag of his cock and those prominent veins as they stimulate your pussy even further.
His jaw quivers, hands white knuckling as he clutches the headboard even harder, picking up his pace to start building that starburst in your belly. He’s unwilling to let his hands go near you now that he’s got himself sheathed completely.
He doesn’t deserve every part of you, not yet.
Bakugou’s chest twists as he realizes he hasn’t earned his honor back; he hasn’t won the prize of feeling your skin under the sensitive pads of his fingertips while he’s fucking into you with his aching cock.
His breath stutters, heart clenching within the confine of his ribs, at the sight of you, your irises focused on only him. Your pupils are blown wider with each thrust, black swallowing the color of your irises as you reach that peak subservient headspace. His hips move slow but with purpose, his cock pulsing within your walls as you clamp down on him.
Snapping his hips up into you, the heat of it all starts to overwhelm him and he can’t breathe. The mix of your warm skin and the absolute adoration held for him in your eyes is too stimulating once you tighten your cunt around him, trapping his dick in your heat.
“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, stilling his hips as his nails screech against the headboard.
Your hands are on him in an instance, exploring his chest and shoulders. You lick your lips and force your ass to stay put on the bed, breathing heavy through your lips. You swallow and your throat bobs, only proving further to him how absolutely enamored with him you appear to be.
“Katsuki,” you whisper into the void, cheeks warming with a blush.
Bakugou shakes his head and with the ferocity that he’s gripping the headboard, he wonders if your nailbeds can bleed. He bites down harshly on his lower lip, listening to your pleading calls for a moment too long before responding, “I-I don’t-”
He can’t form coherent sentences, not when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and you’re gazing up at him like he’s just gotten back from hanging the moon. He squints hard, eyes filling up with tears, “I can’t, fuck.”
“Hey,” your breathless voice catches him in midair, anchoring him back from the dull hallucination that he could never find his way back to you. You reach up to gently press your palm onto his cheek, the cooling touch of your hands doing enough to dispel some of the heat on his cheeks. You push away the sweaty locks of blonde hair sticking to his forehead so you can see his eyes in their full clarity.
Katsuki’s chin wobbles as he looks down at you, forcing his eyes to stay trained in on your face no matter how much he wants to look away. He still doesn’t believe he deserves that look you hold for him within your gaze; the way you tell him that he’s nothing short of a pillar of strength in your mind with a simple look is absolutely baffling.
“Hey,” you call again, tender tone striking a chord in his heart.
Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes, the height of his cheekbones, and you smile at his fragility. Bakugou’s eyes flit around to everything but you, overactive and unable to focus on you when you’re looking at him like he’s painted the stars in the night sky.
His conscience berates him as he lays with his cock buried deep into your pussy, his hips flush with yours, the doubt kicking him in the ribs to remind him that he must be nothing short of a piece of shit – how could he let you fall into someone else’s hands? How could he be so careless? How could he-
“Katsuki,” you rub your hands over his face once more, patiently pulling him from the recesses of his toiling mind, “Come back to me.”
Bakugou’s pupils dilate but somehow you manage to bring his attention back around to your face, connecting your gazes once more. You are struggling to maintain your composure between his cock pulsing within you and the lack of his hands on your skin, your body stimulated but still wanting, but you whimper the words, “Will you kiss me?”
In that simple sentence, Bakugou realizes that he could never truly run from you.
Tears drip down from his cheeks onto your neck, pooling at the little cavity created by your collarbones. You smile up at him, brushing at the droplets as they drip down from his eyelids, cradling his face as he makes the decision to start running back to you instead of sprinting away.
“I love you,” he chokes out the words before claiming your lips with his searing hot kiss.
Your hands dip into the curves of his hips, prodding him to move forward while your lips sink deeper into his. Bakugou groans at the sensation, eyes rolling behind his closed lids, and slowly his palms find your body.
It’s almost like the first time he touched you, his fingertips searching every inch of available skin as if it were new to him. He rolls his thumbs over your ribs, counting each one under his breath as he fucks into you slowly. You whimper when he bites your lower lip, your jaw slack as he starts a biting path of kisses down from your chin to your earlobe.
“Katsuki,” your toes curl when he bottoms out within you, the tip of his cock brushing that delicate, spongy spot at the back of your core. Your nails drag salaciously down his shoulders, drawing little beads of blood in their wake.
“Fuck,” he groans, biting down harshly on your neck. He chokes on a sob before licking and kissing your collarbones, “I love you.”
Bakugou is fucking into you steadily now, his hips slamming into you at just the right angle that the vein running along the underside of his dick drags against your folds. You clamp down on his cock when you feel it begin to twitch again, his cockhead brushing your cervix. He’s sniffling, breath catching at the sound, “I love you so goddamn much. I don’t fucking deserve you.”
He’s overcome with emotion but it only spurs him forward faster. His hips slam mercilessly into you, every rut telling you what he cannot coherently say with words. And you accept his wordless confessions with the tightness of your core, the openness of your eyes.
You respond in fervor, your lips singing his praises as you feel the beginnings of another orgasm curling into a hot fire in the pit of you. It’s like lava has dripped down every vein in your body, lighting your skin on fire with its proverbial heat. You whine, your back arching in the perfect way for his mouth to latch onto your pert nipple.
“Katsu’, please, fill me up,” you whimper, palming at his injured back, finding scars and wounds alike, “I want your come, won’t you come in me?”
He’s nodding around your nipple, affirming you non-verbally, but the gentle tug of his teeth makes you whine again. You are completely distraught with the pounding of his cock into your tight, wet heat, the obscene sounds reverberating off of the walls only to bounce back at you like an echo.
“So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunts, hot tears mixing with the saliva that covers your breast, “such a good girl for me. Takin’ me so well. Gonna take this load?”
You can’t help the way you nod ferociously, pleading with him through both words and actions. You whine, a shuddering of your throat making the sound much more desperate than you intended, “Please, Katsuki. I just want you to stuff me full, I want to be full of you.”
The last time your cunt was full, it was with another man’s seed.
Thinking about it makes your tongue turn heavy and your stomach sour. You grit your teeth and the scent of ashen sweetness fills your nostrils, taking over every thought you’d had previously. You can’t linger your memories on the way something made you feel before, you will destroy your mind and your pride.
All you can focus on is scrubbing yourself clean with Katsuki.
He washes over you like a soothing balm, the heat of his body burning away any trace of anything else from any time before this moment now. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed by him – his body, his breath, his scent. You want to drown in him, only fulfilled through his means for the rest of your days, to dive headfirst into his pain and break through until it is only the two of you left.
You lick at him, the familiar taste of his skin settling on your tongue as you lap over flesh and bone. You beg for his hands to touch every inch of you with wanton moans falling from your lips, scrubbing away at the nightmares and replacing them with the fiery blonde with a quipping tongue to match his superpower. If you thought you might could handle it, you’d ask him to blast you with his quirk, to burn away what is left from before until there is only the now.
“I love you,” you whisper into the dark, “It’s only you, Katsuki. Always.”
Bakugou’s mouth is licking at your neck when you feel his hips still, the telltale sign of his release begging to be set free. You palm at his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes because you can’t hold it in anymore, the words making your chest swell until you think you might burst wide open, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He thrusts forward in time with your chanting, his lower lip quivering with desire as he pumps himself forward at a much faster pace. One of his thumbs reaches down to brush against your clit, stimulating you until you can’t speak in full sentences, let alone syllables. You grit your teeth together and beg for his load, “Fill me up, Katsuki.”
Your words mixed with the tone of your voice are what push him over the edge, the cusp of his release washing over the both of you. Bakugou’s hips stutter, sloppily fucking into you as he chases that blinding pleasure only you can provide him.
“Take it, Princess,” he murmurs into your lips as he claims you by painting your walls white, the final part of you that needed to be wiped clean.
Katsuki’s hands rest on either side of your head as he holds up his quivering body, spent from effort and emotion. You brush your thumb over the tear-stained parts of his face, clearing his skin of what remains from his vulnerable confessions, no evidence left behind. He can start anew, pretend that he never bared his soul to you only mere moments ago.
His eyes never leave you, drinking you in religiously as you blink slowly, irises soaking up every inch of your precious expression. Your pupils shrink enough for him to see the color of your irises clearly, tilting one of his hands upward so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your jaw. Your lids flutter closed at the tender sensation, losing yourself in the feel of his fingerprints.
When you blink your eyes open, you reach upward to tenderly cup his cheeks between the palms of your hands, “I need to tell you something.”
“Yeah?” he leans his head into your hand, nudging his nose over the swell of the heel. Your pulse thuds in his ears and he can tell that you’re nervous based on the pace.
Your voice is thick when you whisper the words that have always rang true in your heart, but you’ve never said aloud because they seemed so pointless. He hears them every day from citizens, begging him for autographs and screaming his name when they see him on patrol. You’ve been afraid that they would fall hollow on deaf ears, futile and empty. But your heart squeezes within your chest and you know that it doesn’t matter anymore. The two of you have learned how precious a few moments can be.
“You’re my hero, Katsuki.”
Your thumbs run back and forth over the skin of his cheeks, seeking out the heat and also providing him what you hope feels like comfort. His cock twitches within the walls of your aching cunt, mouth hung open slightly, just enough for you to see the pink of his tongue.
You nod, sniffling as tears press hot into the back of your eyelids, “You’ve always been my hero, no matter what. Nothing will change that.”
Bakugou kisses the inside of your palm before leaning forward to press his lips to yours. This kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he’s trying to communicate something between the volley of your tongues. You lean up and wrap your arm around his neck when he snakes his hands up the expanse of your back. He’s fully pressed into you now, your bodies flush with one another as he kisses you.
Secret words are passed back and forth from your throat to his, emotion swelling in your chest, begging to burst the longer he’s pressed into you. You curl your hand into his hair, anchoring him to you despite the growing heat billowing in the lack of space between your bodies. Bakugou licks at the seam of your lips and you let him in, you’ll always let him in, your hips rolling forward to meet him at every juncture of your bones.
And that’s how you fall asleep that night, entwined in such a way that neither of you can tell where one of you ends and the other begins.
  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉    ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉    ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉ 
a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed it! drop me an ask if you did!! 
605 notes · View notes
sunflowerspecter · 4 years
Text
any moment, any time (a.h.)
summary: being in love is hard, in your line of work. you only hope you can tell him all of your feelings before it’s too late. unrelated, his brother is your best friend. 
warnings: yep, this part is angsty too... but there’s so much more fluff, i promise. 
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (gender neutral) 
words: 2408
part: 2/2 part one
note: i forgot last part that if i italicize something on my doc, it won’t transfer onto tumblr. however, now that there are no italics last part, why start now? i’m sorry
Tumblr media
Everyone took shifts waiting, while the others went back to the hotel and rested and recharged. You almost didn’t, because you wanted to be there for Aaron for every last moment, but Emily practically forced you to (you only ended up being gone for an hour, and then you fell asleep in the chair beside his bed).  It was your third day of sitting and waiting. Except for the daily hour in which the team forcibly removed you and made you eat and rest, you sat beside him for three days. You did paperwork on your knees as you sat there, waiting for him. You tried playing a game on your phone after the paperwork had finished, to not seem quite as bothered as you were, but in the end, it was three days of sitting, holding his hand, and waiting for him to wake up. 
On the rare occasion you were alone with him, you whispered things to him. 
“Wake up,” you said. “Please, wake up. I’ll fight for you, I will, until the day I die, I swear. I’ll never turn away. Just wake up.” 
“I love you, and I didn’t tell you, and I’m so sorry.” 
“I’ll hold you every single night, all you have to do is get better.” 
It didn’t ease your soul to say such things, but you hoped it eased his. 
Other times, you would sit alone with JJ. She also didn’t want to leave Hotch’s side, but not in the same way you did. 
“You know, he’s going to wake up,” JJ said. She was sitting across the room, by the window, one knee pulled to her chest. 
“I know that,” you said. 
“You’re staring at him like you’re trying to force life into him with your mind.” 
You shook your head as Rossi walked in the room, handing a coffee to both you and JJ. 
“No movement?” he said, sitting by the door. 
“Nope,” JJ said. Your phone rang, then— it was Sean. 
You stepped out of the room, just far enough that your conversation couldn’t be heard, but close enough that you could watch Aaron through the door. 
“Hey,” you said. 
“Hi,” Sean said, “How is he?” 
“No change. How’s Jack?” 
“He misses his dad.” There was a shuffle on the other side of the phone. “He wants to talk to you, is that alright?” 
Tears brimmed your eyes (how were you supposed to talk to your comatose boss’s son?) and you turned away from the room, but you said, “Yeah, of course,” nonetheless. 
“Ms. Y/n?” the boy's voice said, shaking. 
“Hey, Jack, how are you doing?” 
“I am worried about my dad,” he said quietly, and your heart wanted to burst. 
“He’s going to be okay, I promise. He’s resting, right now, but he’s going to get better.” 
‘Hey, if there’s anyone up there listening, please ensure that I did not just lie to a child.’ 
“I trust you,” the quivering voice said, and you broke. Hot, heavy tears down your cheeks, as silently as possible because you cannot let Jack know that you’re upset. 
“Hey, bud, it’s kinda late, right? I think your dad would want you to get some rest, yeah?” 
The boy yawned loudly. “‘Kay.” 
Sean was back on the phone, then. “Can you keep the promises you made him?” 
“I don’t know, Sean,” you muttered. “How are you holding up? He is your brother.” 
“I mean,” he hesitated. “I don’t want to lose him. What about you? JJ told me you were a mess on the ride to the hospital.” 
“You were talking to JJ—no, wait, of course you were.” 
“Well, plus, I mean, you’re in love with him, so I figured.” 
“I’m what?” you said, too loudly. A few nurses looked over at you, and you could feel JJ’s eyes on the back of your head. 
Sean laughed. “Come on, you’re my best friend, Y/n, I know when you’re in love.” 
“Wait, so you aren’t upset?” 
“Why would I be upset?” 
You sighed. Of course he wasn’t upset, you felt silly for even thinking he would be. “I’m in love with my best friend’s brother. That’s like, a high school trope, isn’t it?” 
Another laugh (at least you were getting laughs out of him. That had to count for something). “I suppose, but I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, haven’t I?” 
“That you have, Sean Hotchner.” 
“I gotta go put my nephew in bed, but you should call me later, okay? Love you, bye!” 
You smiled as the phone clicked off. Leave it to Sean to make you feel better in the middle of a very serious situation. 
Speaking of which, there was a commotion of noise behind you (a heart rate monitor was beeping rapidly). You turned and Aaron was awake, looking rather discombobulated. 
(“Is the team okay? Is Y/n okay? Here? Where?”)  
“Hey,” you said, walking in the door. He looked at you and his eyes softened, and JJ and Rossi froze. 
“See, I told you Y/n was right outside,” JJ said to him, patting his shoulder lightly. To you, she said, “I’m going to go get the nurse.” 
You and Rossi sat on opposite sides of Aaron as he gathered himself. 
“Everything hurts,” he mumbled, and it made your heart ache, so you grabbed his hand in yours and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 
“I’m so sorry, love,” you said. “I’m so sorry.” 
“Is anyone else hurt?” he asked, looking between you and Rossi. 
“No, Aaron,” Rossi said. “We got the guy.” 
Aaron nodded, and JJ walked in with the nurse. “Let’s give the nurse some space, help me call the team?” JJ said, and you and Rossi nodded, standing. Aaron didn’t let go of your hand. 
“Stay?” he murmured, and you shook your head, kissing his forehead. 
In his ear, you whispered, “Tell me in the morning if you mean it.” 
And as you pulled away, he gave you puppy-eyes (he was very obviously very drugged up) and you blew him a kiss. 
JJ elbowed you as you stood in the waiting room. “So, you and the boss-man?” 
“You sound like Morgan,” you said. 
“I agree with JJ,” Rossi said, and you groaned. 
“Okay, but that’s how you’re supposed to act when people were just shot and are now really drugged up. Sensitive.” 
“Does sensitive include kissing him and calling him love?” JJ asked, smirking. 
Maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, you picked up your phone and dialed Reid. “Hotch is awake,” you said. 
“We’re still talking about this, later,” JJ said. 
~~~oOo~~~
He wanted to hold your hand. 
He was helpless in the eyes of the team, all surrounding him, but you could tell he wanted to hold your hand again. His palm was open toward the ceiling, right in front of where you sat. 
And, hell, you would have held his hand, if not for JJ, staring daggers (well, more appropriately, cupid’s arrows, because Garcia was fueling JJ’s matchmaking tendencies) into your soul.  
“When do we get out of here?” Aaron asked, clearly already restless after having been awake for less than an hour. 
“When the doctor says it’s okay,” Rossi said. “We’ll probably end up driving you back.” 
You could see the look of horror on Hotch’s face. “That’s like… a lot of time.” 
“About 28 hours, to be exact,” Reid said, and no one on the team said anything, they just smiled. 
“Well, sorry Hotch, but you’re on your own for that one,” Emily said, and you giggled, elbowing her knee. 
“I’ll drive with you,” you said, and he smiled dopely at you. JJ checked her watch. 
“It’s late, we should let Hotch rest,” she said. “He needs to get better so that hopefully he can fly back.” 
The team slowly said goodnight and filed out, save for you. 
“There goes me being in the field for a while,” he joked. You laughed halfheartedly, then sighed. 
“I thought I lost you,” you mumbled. “I was so worried, Hotch.” 
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. 
“It isn’t your fault, not at all, love.” You dropped your elbows onto your knees and then your head into your hands. “Sean’s taking care of Jack, by the way. I’ve been calling with him. Jack misses you.” 
He glanced up at you, then said, “Is it too late to tell you I love you?” 
“Hmm,” you mused, grinning (and trying to ignore the blush crawling up your neck). “No, I think it’s okay if you tell me now.” 
“Well,” he said, and you could see him almost shying out of it, “I… I love you.” 
“Good,” you said, “because I love you, too.” 
He smiled at you, a big goofy grin, and you stood halfway, kissing his cheek, and then pecking his lips. 
“Go to sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.” You made to leave the room, but he stopped you. 
“Please stay?” he asked. “Just until I fall asleep?” 
You nodded, sitting back in your chair. “But only because I love you.” 
He grinned and closed his eyes as you ran a hand through his hair. “That feels nice,” he said. 
“You know what else would feel nice? Sleeping.” He laughed, and you pressed your finger against his lips. “Go to sleep, my love.” 
“Do you promise to come back?” he said, opening his eyes. You practically melted under his gaze. 
“I promise.” 
You didn’t have to pray to know you would keep that promise. 
~~~oOo~~~
“Remind me again why we do this when we could spend the evening by ourselves,” he whispered, pressing soft and sweet kisses against your neck from behind you, his hands on your hips as you set the table. 
“Because neither of us can cook and Rossi offered?” you said, turning around in his arms, kissing him quickly. He smiled lazily down at you, hair in his face. “And also because we promised to let them see you everyone once in a while while you’re on leave? We’ve done this every other week for the past six months, Hotchner.” 
“You know, we probably have time before anyone gets here,” he said, right as the doorbell rang. “Damn,” he muttered, and you stepped away from him, giggling. 
“Hey Spence, hey Emily!” you said, ushering the pair inside. “Emily, it’s unlike you to be so punctual. I expect this behavior from Spencer, but—”
“Spencer offered to give me a lift,” Emily said, shaking her head. You were going to shut the door, but a car pulled up and you recognized JJ’s car. She and Will stepped out, Henry in her arms. She set the boy down and he ran to you, and you bent down to hug him. 
“Jack’s in his room, you know where it is,” you whispered to him, and he ran off. 
Soon, your kitchen was full, Garcia and Morgan having a heated debate with Reid about… something, you weren’t exactly sure, JJ and Emily bothering Rossi while he cooked, and Will and Aaron discussing… crime, probably. Or children. 
You smiled, throwing an arm over Garcia’s shoulders. “I’m just saying that it would probably be cheaper for us to fly commercial,” Reid said. 
“Yeah, that’s not a conversation I want to have,” you giggled, and Garcia poked your side. 
“So, I know you said we’re not allowed to ask in the office, but how’s Hotch?” Morgan asked. 
You shook your head. “You ask about Hotch all the time; he’s doing fine. Getting stronger.” 
“He means,” Garcia sighed, “how are you and Hotch.”
“We’re good,” you said sighing, realizing you would have to tell her sooner or later anyway. “We’re really good.” 
The group of you moved to sit at the table, and Aaron sat beside you as everyone settled into chairs, squeezing your shoulder. JJ came in with the kids, who sat next to each other at the far end of the table. 
“So, Hotch, when are you coming back?” Emily asked the inevitable question. 
He shrugged. “Soon, I hope. I’m becoming domestic.” The table giggled, and you shared a look with Reid. 
“We miss you,” he said, and Aaron smiled. 
“I miss all of you, too, but we’re here now, so,” he said, and the conversation took three million different turns, then. 
After dinner, the group moved to the living room, where you all were set to watch a kids movie (about so-and-so who wanted to do something or other and then met so-and-so who inspired them, according to Rossi). Jack sat on your lap and you leaned into Aaron’s side, and across from you, Will, JJ, and Henry practically mirrored you. Morgan and Prentiss were sitting practically on top of each other, and Garcia and Rossi were being respectable and sitting normally, and Reid was sitting between you and JJ, holding the hands of Jack and Henry. 
Family. 
The doorbell rang, and Aaron looked at you, raising an eyebrow (who could that be?). You grinned and put Jack in his arms, running to the door.
“Sean!” you said, throwing yourself into his arms. “God, it’s so good to see you.” 
He laughed, hugging you back. “Good to see you too, stranger.” You pulled him through the door and into the living room. 
“Sean Hotchner, everyone, everyone, Sean Hotchner!” you said loudly, glancing over to see Aaron. 
Jack ran to his uncle, getting a hug, and Sean looked at you. 
“You didn’t tell him,” Sean said through his teeth in your ear. 
“It was a surprise,” you said in a smile. 
But then Aaron smiled and embraced his brother (being exclusively domestic for so long had made him go a little soft, having not had to go into work-mode in so long, and you absolutely adored him like this). “Good to see you, Sean,” he said. 
“You too, Aaron,” he said. Then Sean turned to you, and said, “I feel like this speech goes for both of you, now, as my brother and my best friend, but if you hurt each other, I’m going to hurt both of you.” 
You threw your head back and laughed and Aaron pulled you into his arms, grinning at his brother. “Not a chance.” He kissed your temple, and Sean made a face, going to introduce himself to Garcia and Morgan. “Thank you,” Aaron whispered in your ear. 
“Forever and always, love,” you said. 
“Good, love.”
hotch taglist (lemme know if you want to be added or removed)- 
@quillvine​ @winterscaptain​ @genevievedarcygranger​ @word-scribbless​ @angelsbabey​ @agenthotchner​
237 notes · View notes
illegalcerebral · 3 years
Text
Fate and Fractured Hearts - Part Seven
Summary: An anti-soulmate fic with Spencer and an aroace Reader. The pronouns they/them are used throughout. Some people in the world are born with a timer on their skin, counting down to the moment they will meet their soulmate. You’ve always hated yours, wanting to be free to define your own relationships and to make matters more complicated your timer is counting down to your first day at the BAU.Spencer Reid has a complicated relationship with his own timer and you’ve only begun to scratch the surface of that when you’re thrown into a case that is darker and more dangerous than it first appears.
CW for heavy, world building stuff 😉
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // CM Multichapter Fics
Sleep came in short bursts interspersed with hours staring at the ceiling or pacing your hotel room. Your skin prickled with a mixture of fear and determination, every minute spent trying to sleep was another minute that the unsub was out there praying on people.
“He hates them,” Spencer said slowly, “he hates that they’ve rejected something he sees as sacred. That’s why he just shoots them execution style and dumps them in the same place. He’s efficient, methodical and probably full of rage. I’m guessing the stressor was traumatic, the fracturing of his own soulmate bond maybe? Or even the lack of a bond altogether. He could be driven by jealousy, anger at people he sees as squandering what he can’t have?”
He was targeting people like you. The realisation had swept over you as Spencer had spoken. Had he noticed? You weren’t sure whether you wanted that or not. On the one hand you really wanted someone to tell you that everything was going to be okay and on the other hand it felt so ridiculous. Of course everything wasn’t okay. You had fourteen dead women who had only wanted to live their lives. 
Sighing, you kicked off the sheets and headed out to the balcony. Maybe the cool night air would soothe you enough that you could sleep. The last thing you wanted was to be a zombie when you spoke to the victim’s husband the next day.
A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the trees out the back of the hotel. There was too much light pollution to see most of the stars but one or two winked down at you.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” You started at the sound of Spencer’s voice. You hadn’t realised he was in the room next to yours. He sat crossed legged on one of the rickety chairs, a thick blanket draped round his shoulders and a textbook on his lap.
“Nope,” you sighed, leaning against the railing. “He’s out there somewhere, the unsub, doing god knows knows what. I’ve never felt so aware of that before.”
“Have you ever worked a case where you’ve had such…” Spencer trailed off, frowning. He looked like he was struggling to find the words. It surprised you, from everything you had seen of him so far Spencer Reid didn’t seem the type to run out of things to say. “Have you ever worked a case where you’ve felt such a kinship to the victims?” he said slowly. You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the ground.
“No,” you said finally, looking up. Spencer visibly relaxed, perhaps he’s been worried about offending you. It was a sweet thought. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s draining.”
“But also motivating.” Spencer closed the book and rose from his seat to stand closer to the shared railing between the balconies. He hugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders and close up you could see him shiver slightly.
“About twelve years ago I worked a case where the unsub was a kid that reminded me of myself when I was his age,” Spencer explained, “he was just as much a victim as the people he killed. I…projected my own insecurities onto him, my own fears and my own traumatic experiences.”
“What happened?”
“I saved him. I lied to Hotch, our old Unit Chief, about what I thought he would do next so when he turned up at the Police Station I was able to block another agent from taking a shot at him and I got him to surrender peacefully.”
You let out a low whistle. That couldn’t have gone down well. You were amazed a stunt like that didn’t result in him getting kicked out of the Bureau let alone the BAU.
“Yeah Hotch was pissed,” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m still glad I did it though. I know it’s not the same thing. You see some of yourself in the victims not the unsub. That’s…better. I mean your superior might still question your judgement-“
“Is this a pep talk?” you laughed. Spencer shook his head, struggling to stop his mouth twisting into a smile. “Good ‘cause if it were it would be a bad one.”
“Hey! No it’s not a pep talk. I just thought you should know you aren’t alone in feeling this way.”
You smiled and he returned it and some of the anxiety that had been clawing at you eased.
“Do you?” you asked softly. “Identify with the victims here I mean?” Spencer tilted his head for a moment. The question didn’t seem to offend him. You supposed that if nothing else, his experiences at least meant that he was more open to the idea of rejecting the soulmate bond. You wondered who his first soulmate had been. Obviously they had died. That was the only way that a new bond could be formed. Some people gained their countdowns in later life, though it was rarer than being born with one. The only way to get a second soulmate though was for the first one to die. Death was the only thing that could break the bond.
“I guess I never thought of myself as someone who rejected the soulmate bond,” Spencer answered slowly. He stared off into the distance, squinting up at the few stars you could both see. “Actually growing up I always thought it was a wonderful thing. I was excited to meet my soulmate. My childhood and teenage years were…tough. The idea of there being someone out there who was going to love me in such a special way was the only thing that kept me going sometimes.”
So not like the victims at all you mused, not like you. For your whole life the numbers on your arm had felt like a punishment, something tying you up and stopping you from living life how you wanted.
“Was it always me?”” Spencer asked quietly. You nodded and for a moment neither of you said anything. It was too dark to make out Spencer’s expression and when he spoke you couldn’t read his tone either.
“That means my first two bonds…were never meant to last?”
“Not necessarily,” you said quickly. Cat Adams may have been a curse but something told you Spencer had loved his first soulmate deeply. “The bond could have been unreconciled if one of your bonds had…”
“Lasted.” After a pause Spencer turned back to you. “You know a lot about this stuff.”
“It’s…a passion of mine,” you confessed, “though I guess that’s a weird way of putting it. I felt like if I could learn as much as I could about the soulmate bond then maybe I could…find some way to deal with mine.” What you meant was find some way to break it but you didn’t want to say that, not to Spencer. He nodded again and for a little while the two of you just stood there, a heavy silence hanging over you.
Tiredness seeped into your vision. It was nearly 3am, you had a chance to catch a handful of hours of sleep before you headed back to the station. You bid Spencer a sleepy goodnight and headed back to your room, leaving him on the balcony.
***
Spencer downed his third coffee of the morning in about two gulps after you and he interviewed Dr Aden’s husband. He confirmed your suspicions. Fatima had divorced her soulmate husband to be with him. Apparently it had been an amicable split. They were still friends despite him moving across the world and had even sent gifts for their unborn baby.
“You didn’t find that odd?” Spencer had asked. Neil, a stocky man in his thirties, had shook his head, eyes brimming with tears.
“Fatima always said that the universe got it wrong. Her soulmate was her best friend but I was the person she wanted to spend her life with, have children with. She used to say that her heart told her that so how could it be wrong? It was how the universe chose to communicate.” He began to sob, body convulsing with tears. Spencer had to look away, the grief was palpable and he couldn’t bear it.
You had taken him to a quiet room elsewhere in the building as Spencer had added his testimony to the crime board. Tara had been doing some digging and the architect victim Melanie Charpentier ran the local chapter of a support group for those unhappy with their soulmate bonds.
“She was also part of a network that helped women leave their abusive partners,” Tara explained, eyeing the now empty coffee cup that Spencer tossed in the bin. “Her husband was a lawyer and apparently he specialised in securing divorces between soulmates.”
“That’s a tough line of work,” Spencer sighed, “So that just leaves the twins.”
“I have a theory about that,” you appeared in the doorway, “Neil Aden’s sister has picked him up.”
“How is he?” Tara asked.
“To put it mildly: a total wreck. His entire world has shattered. His sister mentioned that he’s being sleeping in the nursery he and Fatima built for their daughter.”
Spencer felt his eyes begin to sting. It was so unjust. He took a steadying breath, hoping (but not really believing) you and Tara hadn’t noticed.
“What’s your theory about the twins?”
“Unreconciled bond. It came to me when we were talking last night.”
Tara glanced between the two of you and for a moment Spencer steeled himself, expecting a probing question.
“Unreconciled bond? Those are pretty rare aren’t they?” she asked. Spencer relaxed. To Spencer you appeared to be in your element. He wondered briefly if this was how he looked before he launched into a complex explanation.
“They are. Broadly speaking an unreconciled bond is any soulmate bond that is disrupted in any way other than the death of one of the pair. It’s mostly commonly seen in blood relatives. A person’s countdown ends with the birth of a child or a sibling and they have a matching mark until suddenly one day the younger of the two develops a countdown.”
“Why the younger?” Tara asked.
“No idea, no one has ever discovered why it happens. There’s a theory that it’s something to do with being born with a mark. In very rare occasions, like twenty times in the US in the past century, it’s occurred between soulmates that aren’t related. Again, no one knows why but-“ you glanced at Spencer as you spoke, “it usually occurs when a person’s soulmate already has a pre-existing bond.”
“So why do you think that’s what happened with the twins?” Tara asked.
“In 72% of cases where siblings have unreconciled bonds they have been twins. Identical twins are more likely to experience this than non-identical twins. It’s what’s led some to believe that there’s a complex genetic element to the bond. Either way it could be why the twins hid themselves away from the world.”
“I’ll call Garcia,” said Tara, “and Matt. Between us I’m sure we can figure it out.”
“Is that what could have happened with us?” Spencer asked after Tara left, “You could have been an Error?"
“Error is not an accepted term,” you said sharply. “Unreconciled Bond is the accurate way of expressing it.” Your face softened a little. “But yes. If either of your previous bonds hadn’t been broken then my countdown would have either ceased or just rundown.”
Alarm rose in Spencer. It was a horrifying thought. At least if the countdown had ceased you would have never known but if it hadn’t  then your first day of work would have probably been more awkward than it had been.
I could have been with Maeve and then this other person showed up, all signs pointing to me being their soulmate but they wouldn’t be mine.
It made his stomach turn, it was unnatural. Although considering how you felt you might have been relived. There would be no chance of you working together though. All your hard work to join the BAU gone.
“It’s really not the disaster that people paint it out to be,” you said gently. “The hard part is dealing with people’s treatment of you.” Spencer looked at you quizzically and you gave a small shrug. “I have a couple of friends with unreconciled bonds. They live perfectly happy, fulfilled lives.”
Spencer opened his mouth to speak but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to challenge what you said or ask a question. He didn’t get the chance because Tara came rushing back in.
“Y/N got it 100%. The twins’ bond was Unreconciled. It’s official now, we have our unsub’s motive.”
“So the question is,” you turned to the board, “how does he find these people?”
53 notes · View notes