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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

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Hiii :33 i literally read all ur works in one sitting omg ur amazing pookieee AND IT GOT ME THINKING-

What if reader and the JJK men had their bodies switched due to a curse??? Like- For example- Nanami Kentos body but readers mind/conscious and stuff like ykwim??? (same with readers body) Also i love how u write sukuna its so BEIFNSKFHKDD ARF👹👹 if u could add some smut and crack in it too pls🥹 tyty

(W/ nanamin toji sukuna n geto pls) ☺️☺️😚😚

JJK Men: Body Swap!!

Summary: Body swapping with your boyfriend? What could go wrong? 😃

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Sorcerer AU), Geto Suguru, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, a little crack, body swapping, creampies, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Word Count: 7,174

A/N: Hi Pookie!! hajsjjdjdthank-you so so much! I lo ove too! Modern Sukuna is one of my favorite boys to write for! I love him so much. (even though I know its OOC). Anyways thanks for being so patient with me. this last month has been insanely busy and I'm just now finding my creativity again!

Fushiguro Toji:

It was supposed to be a simple mission to take out a sorcerer. What you both didn’t know was that this sorcerer had a lot of curses to spirits protecting them. So when you both took him out, one of the spirits attacked you. And you weren't sure what happened. One second, you were standing back to back with your boyfriend. The next second, you were lying flat on your back, staring up at the sky.

While your head was spinning and you felt sick to your stomach, that meant you were alive and well, which was a success in your books. Sitting up, you grumbled out a groan as you blinked several spots away.

“Son of a fuckin’ bitch.” You said, but it wasn't you that said it? When your vision finally cleared, your eyes widened as you stared down at yourself. “I’m telling Shiu we need double the pay for that shit.” A string of vulgar words escaped your lips as you watched your body sit up.

“T-Toji?” You asked, finding your voice several octaves lower.

“Yeah, you good?” your head turned towards you, and that’s when your boyfriend finally seemed to notice something was wrong. Toji, I’ve been told you you were never good at hiding your facial reactions, and seeing a pure panic that crossed your features let you know he was right. “Oh, what the fuck?!”

“I-It’s me! I-I just—uhm—what the fuck happened?!”

After thoroughly researching the files you both refused to read, you discovered that this was one of the side effects of one of the curses you had taken out. It allowed the souls of its victims to switch with each other. The technique was only meant to last a few hours to a few days, which was a blessing, but your boyfriend didn’t seem to see it that way.

Although you both insisted that you could handle a few more jobs, Shiu couldn’t stand the way you were smiling sweetly at him with Toji’s face, and your face was glaring daggers at him from the rearview mirror. So he did the only logical thing he could think of. You were taking your asses back home until this side effect wore off.

Which was something you found yourself longing for. Because you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle being in the small confining space of the apartment with your boyfriend who is currently stuck in your body. You were trying to preoccupy your time, attempting to fix dinner with Toji’s sausage fingers, when you could hear your voice and make the most pitiful sounds in the living room.

“My fucking back hurts!” Toji yelled out, stretching his back out.

“Yeah?” you asked, “I told you I wasn’t fucking joking with you. Having breasts can weigh you down sometimes. Why the fuck do you think I ask for a back massage all the time?”

“Because you want my dick.”

“Hardy har asshole, now you know when I ask for a massage and being serious seventy-five percent of the time.”

You tried to focus on cutting onions but found it extremely difficult with the wines emanating from the living room. “Oww, babe, come give me a back massage. Your beautiful tits that I love are causing me immense pain.” Ignore him, you told yourself as you went back to cutting onions. If you just ignored his whining, everything would be okay. “Babe!” Your voice at you from across the apartment. “Baby!” Your fingers tightened around the handle of the knife you were holding, fighting the urge to use your newfound strength not to throw it at yourself. For just a moment, the tiniest millisecond, you thought maybe he had given up on calling you forward, allowing you to go back to cooking until you heard yourself cry out a wine that would make any toddler turn their head towards you.

“Oh my god!” You snapped, tossing the knife into the sink. “What?! What do you want me to do for you, Your Highness?!”

“Rub my back,” Toji grumbled as he shoved your face into the couch. “It hurts, and I know how good I am with my hands.”

With a sigh, you plopped down on the ground behind your body, using your boyfriend's hands to rub circles at the knots always in your back gently. Almost instantly, Toji let out a moan that was porn worthy. You could see him sink further into the couch; your fingers dug into the cushions as you continued to use Toji’s thumbs to rub circles into the sore muscles. Toji continued to whimper, squirming under your touch, pressing your thighs together as you worked your hands lower and lower.

And while it seemed like he was finding some relief in your touch, you found his pants a little too tight for comfort sounds that were resonating from your mouth.

“Fuuuck, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, babe, Fuuck.”

The sound of your moans seems to affect your boyfriend’s body. Allowing you to move on impulse, allowing his body to take the lead. “I bet I can make you feel better.” You whisper against the nape of your neck, relishing how your boyfriend recoiled back.

“Oh yeah~? And how do you plan on making me feel even better?”

Your way was fast and hard, much like the way Toji always gave it to you. You wasted no time, ripping your clothes off of your own body, slamming your lips against the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin as his hands reached around, groping your breasts, just the way you liked it. Despite being in different bodies, neither of you were at all clumsy. As soon as you started ripping your clothes off, he told you he was tugging his shirt off his own body, turning to face, allowing you to pin him below you.

The kisses you shared were messy teeth clashing against each other as you both worked at your bottoms. Toji pulled your shorts and your underwear to the side. While you yanked his cock out of his sweats. Even though you were in different bodies, sex wasn’t any different. Toji just needed to feel you against him despite being inside your body, and the same for you.

You spit into your hand, rubbing it over your boyfriend's cock before you press it against your entrance. Never once did you break that kiss, the kiss that was full of raw need as if you both were high on an aphrodisiac when, in reality, you were high off of each other. Toji moaned against your lips as you pushed yourself inside of the tight, wet heat. Your breathing hitched at the strange new sensations washing over both of you.

“Oh my fuck,” you grumbled, pressing your lips against Toji’s. “I-It’s so tight and wet, oh, fuck.”

Toji wanted to laugh to make some crude comment about making sure you didn’t come too fast, but that was hard when he was being split open by his cock. “I-I feel s-so full.” He whispered nearly breathlessly against your lips.

“Does it hurt? Do you need a second?”

“No, I’m okay. Keep going, it feels good.”

Not needing to be told twice, you found yourself pulling out slowly before pushing back inside of your tight, wet walls. You both cried out, your head falling forward while Toji arched his back off the ground. You aren’t sure how long you could last like this. Hell, you weren’t even sure how Toji lasted as long as he did when he was inside of you. The man who was like a crazed sex god going for hours upon hours. While your boyfriend was wondering how the fuck you were able to take his cock like this every other night.

The pace you both set was messy and entirely out of rhythm. But despite not having any rhythm you were used to, it didn’t mean it didn’t feel good. Being able to lose control and lose yourself in the passion and sensations of just feeling good was hot. It was so hot that it had you both biting and sucking and clawing at each other. Your fingers dug into your hips while his nails scratched down your back as you both lost yourselves in the sensation of being with each other in a way you had never experienced before.

Being with each other in such a raw, more personal way allows you both, in a sense, to know how it feels for the other to know what to do, how to kiss, how to touch, and how to move against each other. This might come in handy for future sexual sessions for you. You knew that when you dug his nails into your upper back, your body trembled with pleasure. And Toji realized that when you angle your hips, a sure way to brush over your g-spot and cervix made your walls clench down so hard. He was afraid he was going to squirt all over you. Neither of you had ever expected it to happen, but both of you were excited that it had. Even if it meant neither of you was going to last very long.

“Oph fuck!” Toji cried out in your voice, his back arching. “B-Baby, I feel weird, like I need to pee!” Your boyfriend stared up at his face, which smirked sinisterly down at him.

“Yeah~? You gonna cum on my cock?” You asked, your voice deep and ragged. “Be good and cum for me.” You growled against his neck, smirking as you released your grip on his hip, rubbing circles over the swollen, sensitive clit.

“Ah! Fuck! Oooh fuck yes, gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, Toji~ come on!”

Toji screamed as he came so hard he squirted all over you, his legs shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm. As he screamed and squirmed underneath you, you lost yourself in the way your walls tightened around your boyfriend‘s cock. Hugging him, milking him, trying to get him to come inside. Which, fortunately, was far too easy to do. You collapsed forward, fingers digging into your hips so hard you were pretty sure you were going to leave bruises much, much darker than your boyfriend ever left on you. It was just too much, tightening the screaming, the pleasure. There was no way you could’ve stopped yourself.

“C-Cumming! Ooh fuck!”

“Yeah~! Give it to me!”

You thrust fast and hard, pumping your pussy full of your boyfriend's cum. Not stopping until the head of his cock was oversensitive, and you weren’t sure if you could hold yourself up any longer. You grumbled, somehow collapsing onto your side as your boyfriend giggled, curling up against you.

“Fuck, I understand why you don’t like pulling out now.”

Toji, your nails down his chest. “Yeah, it feels really good, doesn’t it?” You hummed, wrapping your boyfriend's arms around your more petite frame, not entirely used to the size difference. “God, I gotta give it to ya’ you take my dick like a fucking champ. Don’t know how you do it.”

You smirked, pressing a quick kiss against his forehead. “I’m lucky enough to have a boyfriend to make sure I’m more than ready for his monster of a cock.” He snickered, pulling back to look at me. “And I know I already failed at foreplay, but I couldn’t help myself when you’re making such pretty sounds. I needed to hear more.”

“Yeah, remember that the next time you bitch that I don’t prep you enough after giving you a massage.”

“Toji, I fully understand what you mean, and it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Good, now— are you ready for round two?”

“Round two? Already?”

Toji swang your body over his hips, rocking gently over your oversensitive cock. “Oh yeah, I thought you were fucking with me, but your sex drive is insatiable; hurry up, I’m ready to go.” Maybe this whole body swap thing did have its downsides.

Nanami Kento:

It took five seconds for Nanami to turn away from the curse you were fighting. The curse shot out a green goop that coated you and Nanami in that span. It took five more seconds for your husband to act, blinking away the goop before jumping back into action. It was only when he went to swing his blunt blade that he realized something was wrong. Instead of swinging his typical weapon, he tossed a talisman paper instead.

In that momentary confusion, you and Kento took out the curse before looking at each other. Imagine his surprise when he didn’t find your pretty face looking up at him but his own, looking down at him. The initial shock turned into panic as he watched a look of pure terror and confusion cross his face.

“My love, it’s all right.” The calm manner of speaking sounded so strange coming out of your mouth. “We have to remain calm.”

“Oh my God, oh my God!” Nanami sighed, running a hand down your face. “What are we gonna do? This is terrible.”

Your husband wasn’t sure if you consider this terrible. Both of you were safe, so that’s all that truly mattered. However, he also found himself strangely intrigued by the predicament. He found yourself then. Seeing the expressions on his face, the cute little corpse you had, like picking at your nails, nipping up your bottom, lip, or weighing, looked strange to him, but it also left him longing to see what other reactions he could drop out from you.

Unaware of your husband’s intentions, you try to remain calm. You continued gently rubbing your hands together as Shoko and Nanami looked over your body he was in.

“Any pain or discomfort?” You watched in horny silence as Nanami moved your shoulder again.

“A little pain in my, well, my wife’s shoulder.”

“Let’s get that taken care of.”

You slipped your top over your head alone, you to see your body. The blue lace bra you wore was on display as Shoko's eyes flowed through her hands over your shoulder. Staring at your skin shouldn’t have any effect on you. It was your body. You had seen yourself naked one million times, but Nanami’s body reacted differently. Its bare skin and breasts had his pants feeling much too tight.

“How’s that?” Shoko asked as she stepped away, watching Nanami rotate your shoulder with a sigh of approval.

“Much better, thank you, Shoko.”

“And you?”

When Shoko turned her attention to you, your hands immediately went to cover your crotch. An action that seem to go unnoticed by your best friend but was clearly noticed by your husband. Nanami hummed cocking an eyebrow in your direction, his eyes focusing on his crotch, seeing how the fabric of his cream-colored suit pants with straining.

You cleared your throat, looking away, “I-I’m fine! Totally fine, just eager to get home and wait this out!” You wanted to get away from her and her praying eyes because how embarrassing would that be for you to be popping a boner in your boyfriend’s body at the sight of your tits?

“Alright, sounds good to me. If you need me, I’m just a call away; go home and rest.”

You have never been more happy to hear the words go home and get some rest in your entire life. You held your boyfriend’s hands in front of his crotch before taking his suit jacket to keep it over the prominent tent in his pants. This was perfect. You would be able to get home without anyone noticing. There, you could take a cold shower and sleep this off.

But your boyfriend had another plan.

Before you both could make it down the hall, Nanami grabbed your wrist, tugging you into one of the spare classrooms. “Kento?” You asked, the unsure tone of your husband’s voice sounded foreign. “What are you—nngh!” Your body jolted forward as he slipped his hand down, rubbing at the throbbing erection straining in his pants.

“Shh, let’s make this quick. I can’t have you walking around with an erection like some teenage boy.”

“W-Wait h-here?! If we get caught, that would be worse! At least I can hide a boner with your jacket!?”

At that moment, your husband was undoing the zipper of his pants, allowing you to see the hunger in your own eyes. It was a look that spoke volumes, and you suddenly realized why your husband had told you several times in the past to control your facial reactions. It was a look you only gave him when you were unbearably horny.

“Oh my god, that’s it. That’s the look you always talk about.”

“Mhm,”

“You’re horny?!”

Instead of answering your question with words, he took your hand and slowly slipped it under the waistband of your pants. There, you could feel the wet slick that you were familiar with. Not skipping a beat, your muscle memory kicked in as your fingers began to trace circles over your clit, knowing just how you like to be touched.

“I saw how hard you were and couldn’t help myself. Your body is screaming you need me. I’m so wet, and I’m throbbing; I need you.”

Hearing those words leave your mouth made you realize how your husband felt when he was in your position. When you talk like that in public, it is hard to control yourself at that moment. You had no clue how Nanami managed to do it because you lost your composure the second he opened his mouth.

You slammed your lips against his as you lifted him, pinning him against the wall, his hands worked at the button of his trousers while you slid your panties to the side. Luckily, both of you were so aroused that there was no need for foreplay. Lips moved against each other as you pressed the head of your husband’s cock against your entrance, pushing inside without a second thought. You couldn’t care less if the door wasn’t locked, and you seriously doubted anyone would enter from the moans resonating from both of you.

All that mattered was fucking each other's brains out. Whether it was a factor from the curse or your undying love for each other, you allow yourselves to lose sight of your control. You needed him just as bad as he needed you. And you gave it to him. It’s hard and fast as he gave it to you after he had been pent up from work all day.

Nanami screamed, head rocking back against the wall as you thrust forward, slamming the head of his cock against your cervix over and over, making sure to go as deep as you possibly could. You wanted him to know how good he always left you feeling after a rough session. Your fingers dug into the fat of your hips as you nipped and sucked at your neck, drawing out more moans from him.

You were giving it, your all fucking your husband as hard as he did; Nanami was gripping onto his biceps, staring into your eyes as he took it all in. Every thrust that led to immense pleasure, every kiss, he took in everything you were doing to him. Because the second he was back in his own body, he would make sure he made you feel as good as you made him feel.

And that was a promise he intended to keep.

“Oh, my fuck—” You cried out softly, feeling your orgasm already approaching you. “You feel too good—”

“Yeah, I know that’s how you make me feel every time. But it’s—nngh! It’s—haaah!”

“Hard to not cum?” You answered for him, feeling your walls tightening around your husband’s cock. “Fuck—oooh fuck.”

“C-Cummi—oh m-my god!”

There was no warning, no further words expressed. All that you managed to do was lose yourselves in your orgasms. Nanami cried out tears, picking your eyes as your walls constricted and convulsed around his cock, drawing out your orgasm. You roared a moan loudly into Nanami’s ear as you came inside, fucking his come further inside of you, doing exactly what he did to you every night.

The classroom felt stuffy and hot and reeked of sex. But neither of you cared as you slowly slid to the ground, holding Nanami flush against your chest. You kissed each other deeply, only breaking apart to take a deep breath as all the air escaped your lungs.

“I didn’t think it was possible—” Nanami whispered in your voice, “but I fell deeper in love with you right now.”

“Ken—I love you so much.”

You never made it home that night. Instead, you went to one of the spare dorms and ravished each other all night. Both of you took notes on how exactly your body reacted to certain touches and kisses because the second you were back in your own bodies, you planned on using this newfound information to spice up your marriage even more.

Ryomen Sukuna (JJK Sorcerer AU):

“I hate this!” Sukuna barked out, pacing the floor back and forth. “Ugh!”

“Calm down.” You said from the couch, rubbing your hands down your face. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”

When Sukuna turned to give you the dirtiest look in the world, you weren’t met with his tattooed face, but your own instead. “Have you stopped to look at what happened? I am in your body.” That was true. Your boyfriend was in your body, and you were currently inhabiting his body.

“So it’s not like you’ve never been inside me.” You waggled your eyebrows at him, only to win it go to hell look in return. “Okay, shit, sorry for joking, but you heard Shoko. The effects of this curse will only last a few hours.”

“A few hours too many.”

You weren’t sure if it was the testosterone right now feeling in your blood or the very common annoyance you had with your arrogant boyfriend at times. But for some ungodly reason, watching him, he back-and-forth with a scale on your face was irritating, ever-loving fuck out of you. He was acting like a brat over something neither of you could control.

It wasn’t even just the whole situation itself. Shit like this happened when you were a sorcerer. You got hit with different curses, injured, and usually were expected to live not that long of a life. You knew there was always a chance you wouldn’t come home from a mission. You both were hit by a curse, and you manage walked away with minor injuries and a mild side effect. That was something he should be happy about. But for some damn reason, this whole situation only made him angrier than usual.

“This is bullshit; if only my reverse technique worked shit like this.”

“Kuna! Seriously, what is your problem?”

He growled at you, which would usually put you back in your place when you’re back talking to him, but it seems that growl wasn’t as effective when it came from your body. Meaning you were pretty much unaffected by his tactic of intimidating you.

“I feel weak, okay?!”

“Weak?” You asked with a scoff. “You’re seriously calling me weak?”

“N-No! Fuck I mean, I don’t feel as strong as I normally do.” The more he tried to defend himself, the deeper the hole he dug. “I don’t have the power or technique I have mastered through the years. Instead, I am unfamiliar with your technique, and all I have to defend myself with are these stupid papers.” He scoffed, digging into one of the pouches attached to your belt and pulling out one of your talisman papers. “I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this fold origami?”

“You could shove it up your ass when you get back in your own body, and I hope you get a papercut when doing so.”

“No, I—you know how I see you.” He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’re strong, and you’ve mastered your technique. But I don’t know how to do anything you do. I feel useless, and I’m not saying that you can’t hold your own in a fight you kick ass. I feel weak because I’m unaware of how to use your technique.”

There was a paying of understanding deep inside your chest. You knew what he meant because you felt the same way. There was an immense amount of power coursing through your veins, which could easily be used for evil instead of good. Having such a plethora of cursed energy made you feel as though you were a ticking time bomb, like if you were to sneeze, you would blow up a building.

So, instead of lecturing or giving him even more of a hard time, you draped a tattooed arm over your shoulder, pulling your boyfriend close to your side. “I get it, I guess.” You whispered, tilting your head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Being in your body makes me feel as though I’m destined to destroy things.” Sukuna snickered, turning to look up at you. “But just because I don’t have the same amount of cursed energy doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’m still strong in my ways.”

“Yeah? In what ways?”

“When I’m riding your cock. I feel all-powerful like nothing can stop me. Especially when you’re groaning, grabbing my hips, encouraging me to move faster.”

At that moment, you regretted the words that came from your mouth. Because all you heard was your boyfriend's understanding hum. A hum that led to his hands working at your pants.

“W-whoa, easy there, Kuna. What are you doing?”

“Taking control, to see just how powerful I’ll feel.”

There was no room for protest; once your boyfriend set his mind to something, he made sure to get it done. Even if that means stripping down, straddling your hips, and lowering himself awkwardly on his cock. Watching his wish contort with pleasure left you feeling as though you might be able to take the reins on this. It wasn’t as though your boyfriend would be able to take control, to ride cock like a pro.

But you seem to forget that this was your boyfriend, one of the strongest sorcerers of the modern age, just as strong as Gojo, if not more robust. The man was smart, and despite the facial tattoos and the muscles, he knew how to get shit done.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as he slammed himself down onto his cock with a satisfied growl. “K-Kuna baby! P-Please slow down!”

His hand clamped firmly over your mouth, silencing your protests. “Shut up, I’m in control.” your voice sounded so dark and sultry, god it was so hot! “Just be good and sit still for me; let me use you.” you couldn’t argue with that, and with the way he slowly lifted himself off his cock, before slamming your body back down onto it, leaving you feeling pussy drunk.

“Fuck!”

You cried out, shaking as Sukuna rode you like there was no fucking tomorrow. “Oh fuck, fuuuuck!”

“Yeah~ I suddenly see why you like to be on top of a lot.” he dug your manicured nails into his shoulders, dragging them down over his chest. “From this position, I can do whatever I want to.” You couldn’t even ask what he planned on doing to you before his hips were rolling in circles and you were seeing stars. “Are You paying attention? This is how I want you to ride my cock from now on.”

“K-Kuna—Kuna!”

“I feel so powerful; seeing that pitiful look on my face should piss me off. But instead, it’s making me wanna draw out more.”

It was a combination of everything that was going on that sent you coming first. It was the way Sukuna was purring in your ear, so how he rolled your hips around his shaft, to the stinging burn left of your nails over his skin. It happens so fast, and your boyfriend's cock twitched inside of your walls as you came first. And it was unusual. Usually, you were the first to finish, but it never happened like this before. Your boyfriend being the first to fill you up rather than you soaking him with your release.

Sukuna wasn’t even upset about it. He swelled with a certain sense of pride at getting you off first and with a body he was unfamiliar with. That left him feeling so satisfied he could feel his ego swelling. Before he could brag over the fact that he was better than you, his head began to pound as his vision blurred. His grip on his own shoulders tightened. Sukuna thought he might black out for a moment before he was blinking the black spots out of his vision. When it cleared, he was no longer towering above you but underneath you.

Much to his relief, he looked up at your beautiful face instead of down at his own.

You barely had a second to process what was going on and how it happened before Sukuna’s strong hands and your hips were holding them tightly. Open your mouth to speak, but before any words had the chance to leave your mouth, your boyfriend was pulling you up the link of his cock before slamming you back down on him. You nearly came again just from that action in itself.

“N-Nngh! K-Kuna w-wa—ahh!”

He holds you up and back back down on his cock again and again and again. “I thought I told you to pay attention while riding you.” His hips thrust up into your dripping wet pussy. “I want you to do exactly what I did. Don’t keep me waiting; show me how strong you are, Kitten.”

Geto Suguru:

“So let me get this straight?” Satoru questioned while sitting across from you and your boyfriend. “You both took out the special-grade curse?”

“Yep.”

“Suguru turned it into a ball and gulped it down as he does.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then everything went black, and you both woke up like this?”

He motioned towards the bodies of his two friends, lifting his blindfold to watch as you knotted your head, which was your boyfriend’s head. Satoru got the story right; it was a simple mission, simple enough for both of you to handle. You could take out the curse with no issues, but when Suguru absorbed it, everything took a turn. Everything went dark, and the next second, you were sitting up in your boyfriend’s body with the most unpleasant taste in your mouth after swallowing the curse.

It was a shock initially, but weird things happened whenever your boyfriend absorbed a curse. That just came with the territory of a curse manipulator. Cursed spirits sometimes had different effects on his body and sometimes the body of those near him. Fortunately, you had been near him on this mission. Geto would have hated to be in Gojo’s body, so this was a win-win scenario.

“Yep, for the time being, we’re stuck like this.”

Gojo sat back in his chair, wincing at the situation, you both found yourselves in. “Shit, sorry about that, guys.” Suguru shook his head, stretching your arms above you.

“Eh, it could have been a lot worse.”

“ that’s true, but are you guys gonna—ya’ know?” Satoru jester to the two of you with his hands. “Use the opportunity to your advantage?”

Suguru and you looked at the white-haired man, blinking in confusion. “Advantage? Satoru, what are you even talking about?” you asked, running your fingers through your boyfriend's black hair.

“You know, I’ll get down and dirty?”

“What?!”

“Satoru~” Your voice purred out as Suegro shook her head. “Is sex the only thing on your mind?”

“Hey, it’s a genuine question. I’m just curious.”

Your boyfriend, who was irritated from the throbbing vein in your forehead. Having sex like this in his body hadn’t crossed your mind. When it initially happened, neither of you had been more concerned with making sure both you and Suguru were okay than about what happened. Besides that, sex wasn’t the only thing on your mind! The thought of doing it like this even occurred to you, and it wouldn’t have even crossed your mind, but thanks to manifest. It was out in the open, sticking out like a sore thumb.

You shifted, trying to listen to your boyfriend bickering back and forth with his best friend. Suddenly, you were aware of the throbbing inside your boyfriend, thankfully baggy pants. And you had the sudden urge to go home because the only thing you bring could focus on was how your boyfriend‘s dick was swelling. The last thing you wanted to do was pop a Boner in front of your mutual friend after he had just suggested hooking up with each other while in the opposite body.

If he found out how you felt, you wouldn't hear the end of his arrogant comments and encouragement.

Yeah, it was best to keep him out of your bedroom life. Especially when you weren’t sure if you wanted to take it that far. There was a burning desire deep in your stomach, one that had you itching to touch your body, to kiss your boyfriend, to succumb to the lust that was burning like a fire deep down inside of you. Was this how Suguru felt around you all the time? Or was it just part of the curse?

“Hey,” you looked up from the bed, watching as Suguru brushed your damp hair. “I think I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

Suguru stopped turning his focus on you. “Why would you do that?” What could you even say? You were hard as a rock and wouldn't be able to control yourself? That you wanted him, but you didn't want to gross him out or make things even weirder?

“Well—I uhm—I—have a bit of a situation.”

“I know. You’re hard; you've been hard since we left campus.”

Your hands almost instinctively died towards the crotch, trying to cover the erection that was still throbbing angrily within the confines of the boxers. “H-How did you know?” Your boyfriend let out a giggle that sounded so strange coming out of your mouth.

“My pants may be baggy, but they aren’t that baggy.”

You felt yourself turn fifty shades of red as you groaned, covering your face in your hands. “Oh my god, you could tell?! Why didn't you say anything?” Another sweet laugh came across the room as you resisted the urge to summon Rainbow Dragon to eat you.

“I didn't want to embarrass you.”

“Yeah, well, I think I'm more embarrassed now. Can I manipulate your curses to eat me? To put me out of this misery?”

“Oh, stop, you're fine. I was only able to notice because I know my body.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better.”

“Well, it should be because you looked so fucking hot. Seeing you fight against those primal urges has your body reacting just as strongly.”

You perked up, watching as Suguru swayed your hips as he slowly approached you. “Is that so?” Suguru nodded, pulling your sleep shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

“Even though we're in different bodies, my soul is crying to be near yours.” He slipped your shorts down next, kicking them off to the side.

You slowly ran a hand down your boyfriend's stomach, grabbing his hard cock through his pants. "Fuck guess I got caught. But can you blame me? This is weird." Your hands slowly stoked his hard cock. "But also strangely arousing at the same time."

Seeing your hand stroking his cock had Geto’s eyes widening as he looked over his body before he was overtaken with the sudden urge to shove you down on the bed, immediately straddling his hips. "Don't mind if I do~"

You moaned, blushing up at Geto as he hummed softly. "O-Oh, holy fuck." You said, grabbing his hips. "Fuck is this what I look like to you?" you were in awe of your body. The curves, softness of your skin, and fuck, the fact your pussy was nearly touching his cock. Making it even harder, which seemed impossible.

“Mhm~” Suguru nodded; he rolled your bare hips as he ran his fingers over your hair. "It's really hot, isn't it?"

"Fuck yes, fuck look at my boobs." You said, reaching up and squeezing them. "The way they bounce, it’s so hypnotic."

Your boyfriend giggled, rocking your hips harder before reaching behind him, pulling his own cock from his pants with a moan. "Holy shit.”

"I know it's really hard," You whispered. "I-I holy fucking shit." His cock was so hard Suguru knew it had to be painful.

"I knew I was big, but Fuuck, this put it in a different perspective. Fuck, I'm going to put it inside of your pussy, Princess.” He hummed as he rolled your hips up and down your cock like you had done countless times before.

"Oh, you are?" You asked, licking your lips. "Nah, I don't think so; it’s time I give you a taste of your own medicine.” You growled out while flipping him over onto his side. "I'm going to put it in your pussy." You ground your hips against drenched folds with a snarl.

Suguru gasped, moaning as he felt the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy. Being the one to do it felt much different than being on the receiving end. But it still felt good regardless. He suddenly knew why you begged so pretty; he longed for more than teasing touches. He was about to start praying for more when his whole body seized up as you pressed the head against the tight ring of muscles of the entrance, fighting the need to shove it all in.

“Baby, please—!”

“Oooh, who's a needy slut?”

"Fuck, I am! I want you to fucking destroy me, please.” Suguru moaned, his head slowly rolling back against the pillows.

You smirked, running your tongue over your bottom lip. "Oooh, begging for me already, that’s so cute.” You slammed inside Suguru’s tight pussy. "Fuck—you're so tight~!!"

Suguru gasped before screaming out a moan while you thrust in and out. "F-Fuck yeah!! Just like that, oh god!!~ Princess!!” Hearing such pretty sounds only filled your desire, making you eager to move, to make him feel as good as he did for you.

"Fuck yeah~ what are you always saying? ‘You like me fucking your cunt slut?’”

“Yeah, I see why, fuck you feel so fucking good!!" Suguru cried out, his eyes rolling back. "Fuck! Princess!! Fuck, I'm your slut, god I want your cum so bad!!"

"Cum for me then~!" You commanded, reaching around and rubbing your clit in fast circles just as you knew your body liked it. "Cum all over my cock." Your thrusts were becoming erratic as you felt your balls tighten.

Suguru cried out, his head thrown back as he clenched hard on your cock. "Yesyes-Yes! Fuck, Princess!! Fuckfuckfuck-!!"

You followed immediately behind Suguru; your hips stuttered as you came hard, cum filling your pussy with thick white cum. "O-Oh fuck~!"

"H-Holy shit!!”

"Fuck, oh fuck." You panted roughly, looking down at Suguru, who was still trapped in your body. "That felt s-ao good."

"Holy hell, the cum feels so fucking good—"

“Yeah~ it makes you feel all nice and warm afterward.”

Your boyfriend moaned softly. "You know what feels even better? Fucking you with my cum~ I promise it feels fucking amazing give it a try."

You perked up at that, turning red, but you couldn't just take his word for it. You needed to feel it for yourself. So you slowly started thrusting back inside, moaning loudly.

"Oh god, you're fucking right, feels good.”

“I N-Nngh told you!”

You kissed Suguru eagerly, thrusting faster. Your boyfriend smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands, kissing you deeply as he moaned into your mouth. You kissed back just as eagerly, stroking Suguru’s cheek. Your nails dug into his hips as you moved faster than you could think.

"F-Fuck, can't stop—! God, you feel too fucking good!"

Suguru moaned softly, smiling up at you. "F-Fuck~ I love you too, Princess, so cum in me again!”

You groaned, sucking his neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. "I will." You growled, nipping her earlobe. "I'm gonna keep cumming inside your pussy." your hip bucked, slamming against her cervix as spurts of hot cum filled Suguru, the sensation enough to throw him over the edge with you.

“Y-Yeah! Oooh fuck!” He cried out a moan, clawing at your back as he felt himself cum around your cock when you slammed deep into him. "C-Cumming!! Cumming Princess!!"

You gritted your teeth as you came inside your boyfriend again. That’s how you both were. You were just in sync with each other. Despite the fact, you were in each other’s bodies. You knew how to make the other field good; you wanted to keep going because you weren’t sure how long this side effect would last. But your lack of experience having a dick and poor stamina said otherwise.

"M’ sorry baby, I-I do-don't think I can go anymore. I can’t take it.” You feebly cried out before collapsing on top of your own body, winning a satisfied sigh from Suguru, who was underneath you.

“Honestly, I’m okay with that,” he said as he gulped air. “Fuck you’re probably gonna be sore in the morning. And I don’t wanna hear you complaining about it because this was your own doing.”

Your mind felt fuzzy as you just nodded your head nuzzling your boyfriend‘s face into the crook of your neck because you took in the afterglow and the rash of being near him in such an intimate way. Suguru hummed happily, running his fingers through your hair. He was honestly surprised you were able to go two rounds.

“Sleepy?” he asked softly, only receiving a hum in return. “Ooh—my sweet girl. Lay down for a minute, and let's cuddle before we take a shower.”

“Okay.” you finally could form coherent words as you lay down on your side, cupping your boyfriend's cheek. “Can I—”

“Yes, you can be the little spoon.” You weren’t sure how long the curse's effect would last, but as long as you were with each other, it didn’t matter. All that you cared about was coming home safely with Suguru and sleeping soundly in his arms, which made your dangerous job worth it.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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literaila · 1 month

Note

kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

As requested, just a little back story for how you and Bucky got together after this fic (Steve cheating on you with Sharon). You could read this as a standalone. Turns out the backstory is longer than the OG fic but I hope you like it! <3

Warnings: Cheating, angst, smut, flufff, comforting, protective Bucky falling in love with you

"It's-it's not what it looks like"

It was pathetic even for him.

What else could it possibly look like.

Steve scrambled up to cover himself as if he wasn't balls deep in someone else while Sharon squeaked, pulling the sheets over herself. You didn't move from where you were standing, still blinking at the flushed captain while he struggled to pull his boxers on, nearly tripping as he ran over to you.

"Sweets, it's not-

"Please don't" You whispered shaking your head, tears you didn't notice streaming down your face, still looking at Sharon's fucked out form, the deep blush on her cheeks and messy hair enough to let you know they had already been at it for a while.

"Let me explain-Wait, y/n!!"

You walked as fast as you could in desperate need of air, hoping you wouldn't run into anyone as you dashed down the hall, your eyes trained on the floor. You nearly bit through your lip, throat closing in on itself painfully tight, not noticing Bucky as you dashed by.

"Y/n?" Bucky was on his way for a run when he saw you leave Steve's room, surprised to hear a sniffle as you ran off with your head down. It wasn't his business to pry into the relationship but seeing you upset made him worry, now also concerned for his best friend.

He made his way over to Steve's room instead of chasing after you, his blood turning ice cold finding a half dressed Sharon along with Steve still in nothing but his briefs.

"What the hell"

"I-" Steve froze, stuttering when Bucky's eyes flicked between him and the other blonde with disgust, stepping outside again till they were both fully dressed.

"What the fuck Steve" Bucky's fists were balled at his sides trying not punch his best friend square in the face, giving him a chance to explain himself first. Not that it mattered.

"It wasn't supposed to happen"

"Which part, you cheating or y/n finding out" Bucky stared at the Captain while he sat down on the edge of his bed in defeat.

"Relax, Barnes, it's not like she was your girl-

"You shut the fuck up" Bucky growled when Sharon tried to speak up, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to collect himself.

"Leave. Just leave" Steve turned to her, ignoring the annoyed huffs she made as she collected her things, slamming the door shut behind her.

"It was just the one time. We never did anything else before th-this" Steve's voice cracked on the last word before breaking into a sob, running his hands through his hair while Bucky made his way over to sit beside him.

"Is that supposed to change anything punk?" Bucky shook his head in disappointment, now worried for you instead. "Why would you do that to her"

Silence followed Bucky's question while Steve wracked his brain for the answer.

Why.

Why the fuck would he do that.

You were nothing short of perfect for him. Beautiful on the inside and out. When Steve first met you, he had the same feeling in his stomach as the day he'd met Peggy. His heart started to beat a little bit faster. Cheeks a bit warmer. He mustered up all the courage he could to ask you out on a date and the second you said yes, it became the happiest day of his life. He felt so strongly for you, it almost hurt.

However along with his passion came an equal amount impulsiveness and carelessness. It showed during brave, heroic acts where he threw himself out of buildings or on top of grenades. Now it was showing during his less gracious moments where he gave into a moment of temptation, not thinking about anything else when he took the blonde to his room, falling for the batting of her lashes and soft touches.

"It was just the one time sweets, I promise. I've never done anything else"

Steve's desperate voice made your heart hurt, his red rimmed eyes and puffy face were full of regret. You chewed your lip to keep it from quivering, the both of you sitting on the edge of your bed.

"What was the reason?"

"I-I don't have one" His head was hung in shame, unable to meet your eyes while he fidgeted with his hands. No answer would dignify what he did and you certainly deserved better than any pathetic excuse he'd come up with. He couldn't hold himself back when he heard you sniffle, pulling you into his lap and cradling your head to his chest, hugging you tightly as you shook in his arms.

"I'm so sorry sweets, I'm so sorry" His voice cracked again, tears dampening your hair as he cried with you, rocking you gently, "I know you deserve better, I shouldn't have- m'so sorry baby"

You sobs died down to sniffles, eventually calming down to shaky breaths, the room falling silent again. The wounds were too fresh, exhaustion taking over stronger with all your emotions in turmoil. The scent that always brought you comfort and love now stung when you inhaled, still hiding away in the crook of his neck.

Old habits die hard and you found yourself falling asleep moments later, still tucked in his arms while he continued to whisper apologies, begging for forgiveness, hoping for one more chance he knew he didn't deserve.

"Can you give me another chance? Just one" Steve whispered when your eyes cracked open, your body till drained and head throbbing. "Just one darling, you don't have to tell me right now, I just- "

"I'll think about it"

Steve nodded, leaving your room to give you some space while you thought it over. You tried to take a hot bath to ease the heartache but it did nothing. You hated how quickly you had melted into him the second he comforted you. You hated how much you wanted to forgive him easily because you loved him so much. He had just slept with someone else and you went and fell asleep in his arms.

Pathetic.

You eventually made your way downstairs for a snack, unable to fall asleep, embarrassment crawling up your cheeks when you saw Bucky nursing a cup of coffee, seeing your disheveled form. Before you could do or say anything, he pulled out a chair for you, having you sit down and pecking the tiniest kiss on top of your head.

"I'll make it for you" Bucky smiled, pulling out your favorite mug with kittens on it and putting the kettle on. He knew your go to was chamomile tea during late nights, grabbing a box of chocolate chip cookies to snack on.

"He wants another chance" you mumbled between sips, "and it's pathetic that I'm considering it"

"That's not true y/n" Bucky sighed, giving your hand a comforting squeeze, the cool metal easing your nerves. "It's not pathetic. You really loved him, that doesn't just disappear over night"

"I'm supposed to be stronger than this" You shrugged but Bucky wasn't having any of it, scooting closer to you.

"You are strong. Its hard because you loved him. And you still do"

"I wasn't good enough, was I" If it wasn't for his super hearing Bucky would've missed the whisper of your voice, his eyes growing wide at what you said.

"Don't. Doll, in the most respectful way possible, you're beautiful. On the inside and out. Anyone can see it. I don't feel comfortable around others the way I do with you. You're one of the wonderful people I've ever met and I've been alive for 103 years. The prettiest doll too. If you were mine-"

Bucky blinked as soon as the words left his mouth, no. There is no if you were mine Barnes, that's the girl your best friend loves-

"Sorry" He caught himself, cutting himself off, not wanting to overstep, "What I'm saying is you were not the problem here. Not in the slightest. There's no way the sweetest angel I've ever met is not good enough"

"Well, I was clearly lacking something, there's just me and he's the great Captain America" You scoffed.

"To the world" Bucky nodded, shaking his head thinking about the person that he knew from all those years ago. Steve Rogers, a skinny kid who got beat up in back alley ways. "But he's also that punk from Brooklyn who got all excited when some blonde kissed him for his bravery while also being in love with Peggy Carter. Melted into her arms and then tailed after Peggy like a kicked puppy seconds later when he realized he fucked up. He's not always the brightest bulb in the box even if he is the bravest. Sometimes"

"I don't know what to do"

"You don't have to know right now" Was all Bucky said, not wanting to persuade you to do anything when you were already struggling emotionally. He made you another cup of tea before walking you to your room and giving you a tight hug, letting you know he was always there if you wanted to talk before bidding you good night.

It had been a few weeks. You tried. You tried with all your heart to appreciate the efforts Steve made to mend the relationship but your mind would always flash to what you walked in on that day.

Their clothes on the floor.

Warm, flushed skin.

Sounds of pleasure.

Whenever he kissed your cheek, you thought of the way he probably did the same to her. You weren't ready to be intimate with him and you weren't sure you'd ever be able to again. In the mean time, you spent more and more time with Bucky. It helped having someone to talk to who also understood the person you had been in love with.

With every conversation you had with him, you started to feel confused. The fluttery feeling you used to have with Steve started to happen with Bucky instead. But maybe that was because he was the one person you knew you were able to turn to. Maybe.

But then you started hanging out with him even when you weren't sad. When it was just the two of you left back at the compound, you'd enjoy walks around the city, visiting art galleries, movie marathons and late night drives. Sometimes you'd both end up falling asleep together, waking up wrapped up in each others arms, only to pull away without saying a word once the sun rose again.

Your friendship was purely platonic is what you kept telling yourself when you found yourself trying to find nicer outfits to see Bucky, adding a touch of extra makeup and finding excuses to cancel on Steve just to relax at home with the team his bestfriend instead.

You slipped on some comfy clothes, ready to go to sleep when there was a knock at your door. You knew exactly who it was considering it was just the both of you once again, your facing feeling warm as you made your way to the door.

"Let's go for a ride?" Bucky gave you his signature cheeky smile that stuck with him from the 40's, his eyes sparkling when you took the other helmet from his hand, playfully rolling your eyes

"Alright Sergeant, let's go"

Bucky happily led you to the garage, ignoring the way his heart flipped when you wrapped your arms around his waist, tightly holding onto him when the engine roared to life. He had no reason to ask you to go on a ride with him. You were doing perfectly fine. You were trying to work things out with Steve and that alone had its issues but you were doing much better than before.

You didn't need to use him as a distraction.

You didn't need him at all.

But he was starting to feel like he needed you...

He couldn't think of you like that...

He shook those rogue thoughts away, zipping through the near empty streets, the cool wind making you shiver, snuggling closer to him. Bucky found himself placing his hand above yours often whenever he was at a stop light, neither of you saying anything every time your fingers intertwined instead. Once he parked back at the compound, neither of you said anything, letting the thick tension between you two linger as he walked you to your room.

Then he said good night.

Kissed your cheek.

Stayed rooted in place when he should've walked back to his room instead.

That night Bucky made love to you for the first time. It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't planned. Your underwear didn't match. He didn't have protection.

But none of that mattered.

It was different.

You knew Steve loved you and constantly told you how beautiful you were but a part of you still always felt insecure whenever you were intimate with him. Like you'd never be perfect in his eyes though he never said such a thing.

But not with Bucky.

You let his eyes roam your body, kissing every bit of your skin he could touch. You didn't doubt for a second that he found you beautiful everywhere. His hands roamed the soft skin of your tummy and you didn't tense your stomach. You kissed his shoulder where mental met flesh and he didn't flinch, feeling just as safe around you.

He was inside you and it still didn't feel close enough. You were wrapped up in each other with your arms and legs tangled together, soft moans filling the room as if you were still trying to keep what was happening a secret. It wasn't right, it should've have happened but it did and neither of you wanted to stop.

"Angel, I-I love you" He whispered, desperation and shame clouding his mind because he knew Steve was trying but you deserved so much more loving. "I know I shouldn't but I do. Fuck, I love you so much" His voice was muffled against your neck while he continued to rock his hips, hitching a knee up to push himself deeper.

"I love you too" You surprised yourself with how easily the words followed, feeling guilty from how true they were. You did love him. It wasn't in the moment. You had loved him from before. You loved him more even now.

"M'gonna treat you right princess, I promise. Swear on my life, whenever you're ready, if you'd have me" He pulled away from your neck, his wide innocent puppy eyes pleading with you to believe him, that he'd take care of you with his whole heart, "I won't break your heart precious girl"

"I'll be yours" You moaned as he moved faster, desperately chasing both of your climaxes. You clung into him tightly as he started to fill you up without a second guess. "One day, I'll be yours"

That started it. Neither of you said anything, not acknowledging what it was. After all, you were technically still Steve's girl. But it didn't stop Bucky from sneaking into your room in the middle of the night. It didn't stop you from sneakily holding his hand under the blanket during movie nights.

Maybe you were not ready to tell Steve yet but you were more certain about what real love felt like now than ever before.

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dumbslvtforethan · 3 months

Note

hear me out alright. Ethan is hanging out at reader apartment and reader is on Ethan’s lap taking pictures in-front of a mirror etc etc to send to the group, plot twist off camera reader is actually sitting on Ethan lap w his you know in her and it leds to smut in-front of the mirror.

⁴⁴⁴ DIRTY LITTLE SECRET ethan landry

-- summary: After a heated argument with Ethan, you find yourselves alone and finally drop the pretense of animosity to enjoy some private time together.

warnings: smut, dom!ethan, sub!reader, p in v, mirror sex, lmk if i missed anything 750 words

navigate

𐙚 mdni!! ↓↓ 𐙚༘⋆ೀೀ

"ENOUGH!" MINDY SIGHED, ending the long argument you and Ethan were having for the tenth time that week. It was common knowledge that you and Ethan despised each other. However, between the two of you, there was no hatred just pure passion. you two had been hooking up for a few weeks by now after discovering that all that hate was just a horny feeling acumulated, You both also chose to remain silent to the friend group, continuing to act as enemies in public, part of the reason of that decision was because of the extra fire in the bedroom at night.

"were gonna go grab some pizza in the meantime you two better be somewhat at ease with eachothers presence" she continued. you groaned, trying to hide your excitement of having some alone time with him "and what are we supposed to do?" ethan got up "I don't know. Maybe try not to kill each other for the next hour?" tara closed the door giving you a smirk, you rolled your eyes Once you were alone, the tension in the room shifted. Ethan stepped closer, his voice softening. "You think they suspect anything?" ou shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Not a clue." "Good. Because I don't think I can keep up this act much longer." Ethan's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. "Then let's make the most of this time," he whispered, his voice low and husky. You entered your bedroom with Ethan following closely behind and shut the door, locking it. "Finally," he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

The tension from the earlier argument seemed to evaporate as you both reveled in the rare moment of privacy. You looked up at him, your heart racing. "We have to be careful. If anyone finds out..." "I know," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. "But right now, it's just us." he smirked. he sat down on the bed motioning you to sit on his lap as you sat down you started to move desperate for friction "wait i got an idea"he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his dick. he slid your shorts and panties to the side revealing a glistening sight to him, you sunk down and moaned loudly. "You have your phone?" he breathed heavily. "Yeah," you replied, grabbing your phone from your pocket and opening it to the friend group chat, 'Core Four and a Couple Others.' Ethan took the phone from your hand, opened the camera, and snapped a picture of the two of you together. With a mischievous grin, he captioned it, "Bonding," and hit send.

"Are you crazy?" you whispered, wide-eyed. He chuckled softly. "Relax. They'll just think we're trying to follow Tara's orders." You couldn't help but smile, shaking your head. "You're playing a dangerous game." He pulled you closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But it's worth it, don't you think?" You nodded, feeling the excitement of your secret intensify. "Absolutely." you started to bounce up and down until he stopped you and pulled your shorts down "look at that pretty pussy" he said motioning you to look in the mirror in front of you both, he started to rub your clit in circular motions "dont fucking look away" he said when your head fell backwards you did as he said "good girl" he praised, "your so fucking hot you know that?" you started to bounce up and down on him "taking my dick so good", "my pretty slut" your moans got louder and louder until he mufled them by inserting two fingers into your mouth "suck on my fingers pretty girl" you groaned, his dirty words being too much making you hornier when you thought you couldn't be more horny.

"your clenching around me so good, sucking me in" that was your breaking point, you finally came leaving a loud groan. you grabbed his face kissing him heatedly on the lips "your my dirty little secret" he whispered in your ear, you giggled. you two got dressed and left your room with fingers interlocked Your eyes practically bulged out of your head when they landed on the group Chad, mindy, Tara, and Quinn lounging in the living room" "wait" was all you could get out "yep" tara said giving you a humbling smile "when you sent that pic we rushed here" chad confirmed "i guess we know about your 'dirty little secret' now"

@jchampionsgf on tumblr

a/n: i think i kinda went overboard with this but whatever

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #horror #scream #scream iv #loren campbell #ethan landry smut non con #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry x reader #ghostface ethan #jack champion #scream 6 #scream vi #scream franchise #ghostface #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x y/n

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astermath · 1 year

Note

Hii 🤭 can I request a Dave Lizewski x reader fluffy smut? Maybe something like dave and the reader are studying for a test but he gets distracted or something

omg yes ofc!! I haven't written for dave in a bit but he's still one of my main pookies so YES, YES I WILL ANON. so sorry this took so long btw!!

pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend is too distracted during your study session, so you decide to help him out.

word count: 1.5K

tags: dave and reader are in college, protected sex, established relationship, kind of sub dave? a little proofread, minors dni! normal font below!

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further dave lizewski related content!

Dave tutoring you was a regular part of your weekly routine. Not only was he a great boyfriend, but he was also an expert at anything math related. Which came in handy for you, because despite being a major in social studies, your course required you to take a class in statistics. So, with exams coming up, the two of you had been spending more and more time preparing together.

The sound of pens clicking and papers being shuffled around filled the room along with your groans. You were desperately trying to find the formula key you’d written down earlier, that had now conveniently disappeared.

Dave watched you, eyes peeking above his glasses as he bit his bottom lip. He wouldn’t tell you, he was pretty sure you’d gotten even more frustrated, but you looked so cute when you were agitated. Not that he liked having you in that mood, not at all. But it was just— the pout of your soft lips, the scrunch of your cute nose, the little huff you’d make when things didn’t go your way… Boy, he was obsessed with you.

"But I swear I-- are you even listening to me?"

Dave snaps out of his daydreaming when you snap your fingers in front of his face, a blush creeping up his face. "I-I was, I promise!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Sure you were." You leaned back into your chair, crossing your legs. "Aren't you supposed to be helping me? I'm gonna be so mad if I have to retake this course."

He gulps, the last thing he wanted was for you to waste your precious time on doing this all again. Especially because that meant you'd have less time for him as well.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just... I'm so--"

"Distracted?" you interrupt his stammering. To Dave's surprise, you're no longer looking all that frustrated. Your frown is replaced by a cheeky grin, one he knows all too well.

“N-No, I mean— yeah, a little, but it’s not that I don’t wanna help—“ he starts rambling, his words dying off when he hears you giggle. "Wh--What?"

"You're so cute, Dave," you got up, closing the distance so that you were now standing in between his legs, "but I really can't have you being all distracted while we're supposed to study."

He suddenly felt a lot guiltier about his staring. He promised to help you and here he was gawking at how pretty you were, getting all kinds of thoughts. He felt like a pervert.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I'm just getting in the wa-- what are you doing?"

You took his hands and pulled him off the chair, guiding him over to the bed and giving him a push so he landed with his back flat onto the mattress. He looked a little disheveled, curls all messy and his glasses a little crooked. God, you could just eat him up.

"I can't have you being distracted, so," you took your shirt off in one swift motion, "let's fix that."

He watched you with wide blue eyes, face flushed pink with his mouth hanging open. You were no stranger to taking the upper hand with him, but he hadn't expected your study session to get steamy so quickly.

That's how you ended up on top of him, hips grinding down on him through his boxers and your panties. He swore he was about to cum just from you rubbing yourself over him, it took everything in him not to give into that feeling.

"Is this what you were thinking about, baby?" Your voice is dripping with honey. There's something teasing, almost mocking in it. You were well aware of how horny your boyfriend gets, the dirty thoughts he gets, even from before the two of you were a thing. But he never just admits them, no, he's a sweetheart like that.

He wants to answer, so bad, but with every movement of your hips a whimper spills from his lips, whether he wants it to or not. He's not too sure what to do with his hands, keeping them loosely on your thighs, not guiding, simply touching. Almost to ground himself a little.

"Hm, or maybe... You were thinking about this?" You reach down to move your panties to the side, and he takes the hint to start shoving his boxers down, just low enough to free his cock. You feel it tap against your ass as it finally springs free, already dripping with precum.

The vulgar sound of your juices spreading over his cock drives him mad. He barely gets the time to roll a condom on before your rubbing his head through your folds again, his hands grabbing the fat of your thighs a little harder. He's whining softly, silently pleading for you to let him fuck you already.

"What's that baby?" you reach out and grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you. "Use your words hun, I'm not a mind reader."

He just stares at you for a moment, cock twitching at your commanding words. He swallows, struggling to get anything out like the horny mess he is.

"I-I want you to--"

"Speak up."

"I want to be inside you," His voice cracks a little when he repeats himself, louder this time, "Please." he adds.

You smile, a thumb rubbing gently across his cheek. Poor boy looked like he was about to cry if he didn't get to fuck you, cock painfully aching with a need for you, and you alone.

"Well," you lined him up with your entrance, "only because you asked so nicely."

You took him inside with one swift movement of your hips, dropping down onto his lap with an audible clap of skin against skin. You moaned in unison, eyes finding each other, always wanting to watch the other's face when you finally connected like this again.

You wasted no time, already moving your hips again, the sensation of his cock dragging over your slicked walls sending you into a state of euphoria already. Dave's a big guy, and that counts for every other part of him too. You didn't care if stretch was a little painful, or that it took you a while to get used to the size of him at first, you loved it.

"B-Baby, please-- oh my god, you feel s'good, holy shit..." He blabbered on, his words slurring over the sounds of his moans. You grinned, he was already so pussy drunk, it was adorable.

You leaned over, hand splayed over his toned chest, nails dragging over his fair skin and leaving red trails in their wake. He looked so pretty, all marked up, letting everybody know that he was yours. Not that they didn't know already, he loved letting them know, always mentioning his pretty girlfriend whenever he could.

Your thighs started burning a little from the exertion, but you couldn't stop, not when you felt your orgasm slowly approaching. You started moving faster, bouncing on his cock, grin faltering as your expression grew more desperate.

"Dave, I-- fuck!" you cried out when he shifted his hips, the head of his cock hitting a particular spot inside you that made you see stars. "Keep doing that, holy shit, m'gonna cum baby..."

He took your command, as always, following your rhythm with his own movements. His thrusts become more erratic and sloppy by the second, letting you know he was getting close himself. Not that the continuous repeating of your name wasn't already alerting you of that.

"J-Just like that baby, just like that," your orgasm caught up to you soon, walls fluttering around him as you tilted your head back and moaned his name. The two of you were always loud, but now you were sure the whole floor heard you.

He followed right after, thrusting up into you and filling the condom with his hot cum. Your body went limp for a moment, collapsing on top of him with your full weight. His strong arms enveloped you, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, panting, trying to catch your breath.

After a moment to come down from the high of your orgasms, you moved your head to press soft kisses to his cheek. He sighed dreamily, an adorable boyish smile appearing on his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you. Sometimes, it just felt like a dream. Luckily you were there to kiss him back to reality.

"D'you wanna go back to studying?" he asked softly, his hand tracing gently over your spine.

You whined, pressing a few kisses to his lips. "Hm... No..."

"But," kiss, "what about," kiss, "the exam?"

"Fuck the exam." You moved your head back to rest on his shoulder.

He doesn't reply, instead smiling to himself. Just being glad he's not the only one distracted now.

tag list <3

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme @stilloverthinking @erodastylinson @reneehillary69 @durag-tanaka @earth-elemental18 @caxddce @777iii @a-simp-for-broken-people

#aster writes kickass #dave lizewski x fem!reader #dave lizewski fic #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski kickass #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x y/n #kickass fan fiction #kickass smut #kickass fic #kickass 2 #kickass #davemath #kickass x reader #kickass x fem!reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former.

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence.

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked.

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him.

Her mouth closed.

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left.

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass.

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing."

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up."

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again.

He didn’t have that.

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land.

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy.

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected.

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf.

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail.

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer.

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even.

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals.

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit.

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite.

He did now.

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes.

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade.

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck.

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated.

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year

Text

something wretched about this, something so precious about this

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Word Count: 3k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), PIV sex, language kink, parseltongue kink

Summary: request: "mc finds herself absolutely taken with Ominis and his parselmouth." aka mc is absolutely taken with ominis' mouth in every sense of the word

“But you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” he counters, curious. “N-no,” you whine. « I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, sweetheart? » he hisses. « You’re a troublesome little thing, you hardly listen to me when you can understand. »

The first time you heard Ominis speak Parseltongue, you’d found it to be almost antithetical. It had sounded so bizarre coming out of his mouth, so different from the gentlemanly manner in which he most often spoke. Yet the strength of his snakelike voice sounded somehow familiar, and the way his sighing, hissing words wrapped around you felt like sinking into a warm bath.

“It worked!” you’d exclaimed, hoping your voice wasn’t trembling. “Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed.”

Minutes later you’d writhed on the floor in unimaginable pain and all thoughts of Ominis’ potentially disreputable talent had flown from your mind. In fact, you’d been so rattled from being on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse that it took several days for you to recall that you were no longer the sole member of your little trio with a rare gift.

A month later you’d asked Sebastian about it while you were studying for Charms, lazily levitating stacks of books while he had been pouring over Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook.

“What does being a Parselmouth mean?” you asked him curiously.

“Means you can talk to snakes,” he replied, half listening. “Understand them, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that, thanks.”

Sebastian looked up from his book with a skeptical expression on his face. “Then what exactly are you asking?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know, I just… Ominis made it sound like it was a bad thing, to be known as a Parselmouth. Like it’s given him a bad reputation. Why is that?”

Carefully closing his spellbook, Sebastian sits back and considers his words carefully before continuing.

“Well, the answer to that is right in front of you,” he says, gesturing to the tattered book on the table before him. “As Ominis said, most Parselmouths are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and whether it’s warranted or not, he’s a controversial figure.”

“Sure,” you agree. “But… does Ominis speak Parseltongue much? How would anyone even know?”

“I think most people just assume,” Sebastian replies with a shrug. “His brothers spoke it, and he’s told me that they speak it more regularly at his home. Many Gaunts have chosen to keep a snake rather than an owl or any sort of conventional animal.”

You nod slowly. “Have you heard him speak it before that night in the Scriptorium?”

“A handful of times,” he admits. “Sometimes he’ll slip up if he’s especially angry or frustrated. I’ve also heard him speaking it in his sleep on occasion.”

Eventually, the conversation shifts to the spellbook and you once again forget about Ominis’ rare skill – this time for nearly two years.

By your seventh year, Ominis has learned about your ancient magic abilities, and your friendship has grown from one of rueful kinship to genuine affection. Nevertheless, he still seems to keep so much of himself guarded, even as you’ve shared so many of your worries and insecurities as you’ve grown into your role as the only living Keeper of your ability.

(It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen achingly in love with him along the way.)

These days you spend most nights studying with him and Sebastian. Usually, you’re eager to soak up the years of knowledge they’d accrued before you’d started school at Hogwarts, but tonight you find yourself distracted.

“Are you listening to me?” Ominis suddenly snaps, and you glance up from where you’d been reading the same paragraph over and over.

Ominis looks annoyed, and to his point, you certainly hadn’t been listening. You’ve both been sprawled out on the floor of the Undercroft for hours now revising for Potions. Sebastian had called it a night shortly before dinner, leaving the two of you to continue pouring over theory textbooks in preparation for Professor Sharp’s famously lethal end-of-term exams.

“Y-yes, sorry,” you stutter. “What were you saying?”

In your defense, winter has arrived in the Highlands and the stone floor of Ominis’ hideaway has cooled you to the bone. The weak flame flickering beneath your shared cauldron isn’t enough to pull you out of your daydreams about a nice warm bed, some cozy blankets, and perhaps someone to share it with…

(Someone who can whisper secret serpentine words against your skin, chasing your goosebumps lower and lower beneath the covers…)

“Again?” Ominis asks, more disappointed than angry this time. “You can’t focus on my words for a full minute before slipping into some reverie?”

Merlin, if only he knew that focusing on his words wasn’t the problem at all.

“I’m sorry, Ominis,” you whine. “But it’s getting late, it’s freezing down here, and we missed dinner…”

“You said you’d help me,” he reminds you, perhaps a bit vulnerably. “The exam is tomorrow afternoon, and my Draught of Living Death is still curdling.”

You groan pathetically and rub your eyes. “Ominis, you’re a dear friend, and I simply adore you, but you’re bloody rubbish at Potions. Perhaps we should take a break for the night.”

Ominis’ jaw clenches while he stirs his (admittedly lumpy-looking) brew.

“Ominis?” you ask hesitantly. “...I apologize if I was harsh, but–”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “Just… stop talking. Clearly, you’re no longer interested in helping me, so you might as well go back to your common room for the night.”

Sighing, you shift closer to where he sits cross-legged on the stone floor and gently rest a hand on top of his knee. You know how challenging Potions has been for him, especially lately; N.E.W.T.-level draughts are challenging enough when one can confirm that the brew they’ve already spent hours preparing has progressed to the appropriate color.

“I think you need to take a break,” you say softly. “You’re making yourself too frustrated, Ominis.”

You watch as a bit of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seeps away as his head hangs gently. As his fingers nervously twitch in his lap, he takes a slow, measured breath and lets his eyes fall closed.

« I need to do this correctly, even just once, » he says. « Then I’ll be able to sleep. »

You suspect he doesn’t even realize he hadn’t spoken English until you sharply pull your hand back with a gasp.

“Wh-what… did I, um,” he stammers. “I didn’t… say that the proper way, did I?”

“Well, er – you hissed it,” you say carefully. “That… that was Parseltongue again, wasn’t it?”

Ominis carefully nods. Your stomach clenches when you notice him hunch in on himself as if he’s ashamed of what he’s done.

“It’s okay!” you quickly tell him. “I, um. I haven’t heard you speak Parseltongue since fifth year, and – and I don’t understand it, obviously, b-but it’s alright if you want to use it.”

You trail off lamely and try to rest your hand on his knee once more, but he nudges it away.

“I apologize,” he says hollowly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A wave of nausea rolls over you as you watch him duck his face and turn away from you – not so that he can’t see you, mind, but that you won’t see him.

“Omins,” you sigh. “Please, you – you haven’t scared me, I promise you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he counters in a deceptively soft voice. “I can tell, you know. Your heart is racing, you’ve gone warm all over… You want to run away. It’s only natural, when one is frightened. I would know.”

You swallow audibly and once more attempt to rest your hand on his thigh, and this time he allows you.

“I’m not scared,” you insist, and as true as your words are, you almost wish you were lying to him.

You think it’s probably less shameful than the truth, which is that Ominis’ brief Parseltongue outburst has your heart racing with desire, not fear.

“Then why…?” he asks before eventually trailing off.

“I find it fascinating,” you tell him softly as you trace your fingertips along the seam of his trousers. “It’s… compelling, Ominis. Perhaps a bit enticing.”

“Enticing?” he repeats softly. “You feel, er.. compelled by my Parseltongue?”

You shyly shrug before remembering a non-verbal answer won’t suffice. “I suppose I do.”

The both of you are silent for several long moments. The only sound that can be heard in the Undercroft is Ominis’ sickly bubbling potion, until he finally asks you, “May I kiss you?”

You hesitate for merely a beat, just to let your mind catch up, but before you can answer Ominis repeats himself in Parseltongue: « May I kiss you? »

This time, your non-verbal answer of crawling astride his lap and kissing him yourself is entirely sufficient.

Ominis moans into your mouth while you grab the lapels of his uniform shirt, brazenly rocking against his lap like one of those wanton witches in Sebastian’s rather foul romance novels. His hands settle on your hips and he helps you grind down onto him until you can feel for yourself where he’s grown hard.

“Wh-what are we doing?” he asks against your lips.

He doesn’t sound scandalized, or even hesitant – rather, he sounds like he’s asking how much you’re going to let him get away with.

“Whatever we want,” you answer him breathlessly. “Ominis, I – I’ve wanted this for so long, we’ll do whatever you want.”

« Whatever I want? » he hisses, and you shiver in his lap. « What I want is to get you on your back for me, sweet girl. »

Carefully, Ominis tips you from his lap back onto the freezing tile, but just as quickly he gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re sprawled out on some abandoned Potions notes. Your skirt falls halfway up your legs and Ominis traces his fingertips along your skin until he finds the hem.

« Spread your legs for me, my love, » he hisses, sliding his hands up the insides of your thighs. « Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you here? »

His unseeing eyes flutter closed as his fingertips brush against the hem of your undergarments. You’re wet – you have been since he’d first slipped into those low, hissing tones of his – but now he knows it. He can feel it.

“Gods,” he groans. “You.. you really like to hear my Parseltongue this much?”

“It’s your voice,” you whimper, grinding your hips toward his teasing fingertips. “You… you sound different.”

“Tell me,” he demands. “How do I sound?”

Realizing that he likely sounds the same to his own ears even when speaking the ancient snake language, you bite your lip and force yourself to focus.

“You – you sound powerful,” you admit. “Like your voice is stronger, or… it’s like I can hear it in my whole body, not just my ears.”

Ominis wordlessly rewards you by firmly dragging his thumb down the length of your core through your panties. You melt into his touch; your skin feels as if it’s on fire now, and the very same icy stone floors you’d complained about not long ago now feel like a soothing balm against your skin.

“But you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” he counters, curious.

“N-no,” you whine.

« I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, sweetheart? » he hisses. « You’re a troublesome little thing, you hardly listen to me when you can understand. »

You whimper and arch your back. “I m-might not understand Parseltongue, but I can tell when you’re teasing me.”

“Darling, I’ve barely begun to tease you,” he murmurs before leaning down and licking up the length of your body from your navel to the dip between your collarbones.

“Please, Ominis,” you beg.

« You’ve been distracting me all evening, » he continues. « I fully intend to have just as much fun playing with you, since you seem to enjoy driving me mad. »

While he kisses what’s sure to be an impressive bruise onto the side of your neck, Ominis slides your panties down your legs.

“I want you inside me,” you confess.

« You want the first time I take you to be on this dirty stone floor? » he asks lazily. « Are you that desperate to be fucked, sweetheart, or have I made you wait too long and driven you mad? »

You groan frustratedly as he starts to kiss his way down your body, pointedly ignoring your canting hips. “Ominis, I’m begging, please say you’ll touch me.”

Ominis presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against your hipbone. « Don’t fret, my love. How could I refuse such a tempting offer from such a beautiful, albeit slightly mad woman? »

By the time he traces the tip of his tongue along the crease of your hip, you realize where he’s headed. An irreverent array of babble spills from your lips while you attempt to grind impossibly closer to his face, but he places his hands over your hips and keeps you firmly planted against the stone floor before he presses his tongue flat against your cunt.

If he were still speaking Parseltongue into your skin, you’d never know. Any words of praise or kindly teasing that spilled from his lips were drowned out by a litany of curses you’d never utter in front of a man like Ominis in any other setting.

“That’s it, my lovely girl,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh. « Your cunt is so wet for my tongue, and it’s even sweeter than you are. »

He’s switching between English and Parseltongue so easily that you can’t be sure he’s even doing it on purpose anymore, and you couldn’t possibly say which you prefer more. Being fully aware of every filthy word he says is a dream, but is it as delicious as not knowing what he’s saying as he utters secret confessions inches from your skin?

You don’t bother spending much time considering it while you lie back and let him lick you open. All you can think about is his tongue on your skin, pushing inside you, savoring every inch of your body while he learns you by touch and by taste.

That’s what he’s doing, after all – learning you. He’ll get you off, of course he will, but that’s not why he’s bent over between your legs with your calves thrown over his shoulder.

“Ominis,” you groan. “I need you in me, I… I need you.”

He presses a deceptively sweet kiss to your sensitive clit before he asks, “Is that so? I thought you liked my Tongue, and now it’s not enough for you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you plead. “I know you want me just as badly.”

While Ominis had been coming up for air between burying his face between his thighs, you’d been able to see just how affected he is – you aren’t alone in your eagerness, you can be sure of it.

« Right as always, you are, » he hisses. « Perhaps you don’t understand my words, but you can sense my desire, can’t you? »

He grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh to punctuate his words and you whine pathetically.

“Take me, take me, take me,” you chant while he sits back to undo his trousers and push them down just enough to free himself. You realize he intends to stay fully clothed while he takes you apart, and you shiver against the cold floor.

When he finally sinks inside, you fall helplessly silent.

Every ounce of focus you have is spent on relaxing your body, opening up for him as he buries himself inside you. He’s almost ruthless in his endeavor to fully seat himself in you despite his intimidating length. Save a few breathless not-quite-whines, you’re quiet beneath him.

« Nothing to say, darling? » he hisses at first, and then in a softer voice he asks, “Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

“N-no, it’s good,” you moan. “Please… keep talking to me.”

“You want me to talk to you, hm?” he asks, grinding in until the flat part of his pelvis brushes against yours. « Do you need a distraction? You’re taking me so well, my angel. »

He starts to fuck you in earnest with a slow, careful rhythm to keep your bare skin from catching along the worn stones beneath your back. As he thrusts inside you, he keeps talking in that low, hissing tone. Soon you realize even his words match the rhythm of his body, rising and falling with his motions.

« Feels so good… Waited so long… I can’t stop, please don’t ask me to stop… »

His back feels feverishly warm to the touch while you drag your hands down from his shoulder blades to the back of his hips. In the years since you’d first heard the snakeline sound of Parseltongue fall from his lips, he’s grown taller and his musculature has changed into that of a lithe, well-built man. Now the strength of that voice suits the body from which it emanates, and both have combined to keep you firmly pinned to the floor beneath their might.

You cling to him as he fucks you harder. You feel so close already, tumbling toward the edge of pleasure beneath him as his serpentine words glide across your skin.

When you come around him, you hear him whisper your name in Parseltongue – it’s the same, you think, but softer, and sweeter.

« When I come inside you, » he hisses just above a whisper. « I want you to keep every last drop inside for me. Will you, my darling? »

“Ominis!” you wail.

“Fuck – fuck,” he gasps, and seconds later you feel the mess he's made inside you threaten to spill out with every slow, greedy thrust in his post-orgasmic haze.

“N-no, stop,” you whimper, and he immediately goes still.

“What is it?” he asks, his English crisp and clear.

You shift shyly beneath him and whisper, “Don’t… don’t keep going. I want to keep it inside for now, and – and when you move, it, um…”

Merlin, you don’t have the words to say you’re just as greedy as he is – you want to stay full of him, just as he’d asked in that ancient, indecipherable tongue.

Ominis presses soothing kisses to your face while you wrap your legs around his waist to hold him in place. His lips brush across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the curve of your jaw.

“Of course, darling,” he whispers. “I’ll stay right here.”

Then, with his lips pressed to yours, he hisses, « I’ll stay right here as long as you like. »

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy smut fic #parseltongue #parseltongue kink

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cherriegyuu · 8 months

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midnight rain | lsm

pairing: seokmin x f!reader genre: angst, smut, a little bit of fluff word count: 17k summary: after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, oral, swearing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this) a/n: this is part of 1k event, it was requested the dearest @ressonancee. but also, it's part of svt ans songs from midnights. i just wrote two in one and something that was supposed to be short became this monster. i hope i wrote seokmin in a way you'll like it. prompt: “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do." Seokmin ➝ Midnight Rain He was sunshine, I was midnight rain ↳ it was the oldest story in the world, the bright boy fell for the grumpy girl.

Letter #1

Seokmin,

You know, I've always been very proud of not being a very attached person. I've always been proud that I can put myself first and second, because I know I need to do it, because I know that no one else will do it for me. So, when I came here and dropped everything I had, I thought it would be a lot easier than it actually is.

When I turn around in bed at night, after days of trying to get used to the time zone and weeks to the weather and the people here — which are both bad and for completely different reasons, nothing is like in the movies — I always hope to find you there by my side and being able to snuggle up to you like I always did. I wake up in the morning and make enough coffee for two people and take two mugs out of the cupboard, and only then do I realize I'm alone here. I don't need two mugs and I made too much coffee. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I find myself typing your number, which I have memorized despite the fact that no one remembers phone numbers, because phones exist for a reason.

You have no idea how much I miss you and what I would do to be able to hear your voice again. I would do anything, I swear I could. But I know I no longer have that right. I know that what I did is unforgivable and although I want your forgiveness, I hope you never forget what I did to you.

You were still good to me on the last day. You took me to the airport, you said goodbye to me, you hugged me tight like you know I like it and you did your best not to shed a tear in front of me.

Every now and then I catch myself thinking that I messed up. I could have done my master's where we graduated, I didn't need to move to the other side of the world and leave the life I knew behind. But at the same time, I accept it. Coming here was my dream, it was always what I dreamed of even when you were by my side as well. And maybe that's why I never told you about the application, about being approved. Maybe I waited until the end, until the very last second to tell you because I knew you were the only one capable of changing my mind.

When I was by your side, I started to dream of a different life, a life that had you at all times and in all aspects. But, as you may have already noticed, I chose my first dream.

I know I won't regret it. I can't afford to regret it. You’ll become who you always wanted to be and I’ll be there to give you a standing ovation. Not there, next to you, but from afar.

“That was Sunday Morning, by Hong Joshua. Ah, whenever I hear this song I remember my college days. I've said this here a few times, and I think I sound like a broken record by this point, but Joshua and I went to the same college and he was always singing this song in the hallways. Any small gathering between friends he would pull out the guitar and sing. So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to listen to this song at least once a week for the next year. Or until he releases the next one.”

Seokmin looked at the monitor to his right as a pre-recorded commercial for the next show started. The comments were going up too quickly, which made reading them an almost impossible mission.

On the other side of the glass, Chan made a sign indicating that the commercial was over. Seokmin looked at his friend as he lowered one finger after another and finally pointed at him. Chan placed a sheet of paper, which was always used, against the glass, which said “last, chat”. Indicating that he still had one more question to answer.

“We have time for one more question” Seokmin said, opening the internal chat he used with the other radio employees and read the question that Chan had sent “I ended a relationship of almost four years a few months ago, but I still can't understand what happened. I haven't even returned his things yet. How do I get in touch saying I want to return it?”

Seokmin swallowed. He knew that Chan hadn't done it on purpose, that he had no way of knowing everything that had happened between him and you, but he hated how much the question resonated in his head. It was a feeling he shared and for him it had been a little worse because you lived together during your last year of college. So when he entered the house and saw all the furniture, the decorations, your clothes still in the closet, it was like entering a time machine. In that 30 square meter space, for a few minutes, you still hadn't left.

He took a deep breath, away from the microphone so the sound wouldn't be picked, and leaned forward.

“It's a difficult question, really. If it's been a few months and he still hasn't picked his things up, it's because he doesn't need them, so I don't think you should bother contacting him. Hmmm”

He bit his lip and rested his elbows on the table, thinking if he should continue talking or if it would be better to stop there. Seokmin always thought it was better not to let personal feelings show on the radio, but he had moments when he couldn't follow his own rules.

“I can tell you from experience that sometimes silence is better. Because if you know the truth, it could hurt you even more. When I was in a similar situation, after a while I simply discarded the person's belongings. At first, it will be difficult, because you’ll see that shirt you gave as a gift, that letter you wrote and remember what it meant, the moment you gave those things to him. But little by little you will achieve it. Don't feel obligated to just move on when you're not ready. People will always tell you that it's about time, that it's been so many weeks or months. You’re the one who knows about your feelings.”

Chan knocked on the glass again, almost desperate because Seokmin's answer had been too long. It wasn't the first time he had gotten lost in what he was saying and maybe had been talking in circles. It always happened that he remembered you when he answered a question.

And in that specific question he was being a hypocrite because he knew that if he opened his closet, deep inside it, he would find at least two boxes full of your things hidden. He rarely went near those boxes, he liked to pretend they didn't exist and most days he managed to achieve that thought. But there were other days…

“So we come to the end of another Cupid's Corner with Minnie. See you again next week. Cupid’s Corner with Minnie: Unveiling Love’s Melody, One Relationship at a Time!”

Seokmin removed his headphones, stood up, and waved at the cameras he knew were pointed at him. He grabbed his phone and the bottle of water he always carried with him. The red light above the door finally went out and Seokmin left the studio.

Immediately, Chan appeared beside him. He had just gone blond, and it strangely suited him.

He knew the youngest was desperate, not that he was doing a good job of hiding it. The disheveled hair, pointing in all directions, also helped a lot.

“You’re going to have a heart attack if you continue like this” Seokmin said laughing.

Chan was the newest employee, handpicked by Seokmin a few months before. Seokmin needed someone to help him organize the broadcasts after his previous assistant quit because she had gotten a job in the field she had studied. Seokmin even talked to her and offered a higher salary that would come out of his own pocket, but nothing seemed to help. Not that he blamed her, in her place he would have done the same thing. But in the position he was in, changes made him uncomfortable so he did what he could to make sure everything stayed the same.

Maybe it was trauma.

“It’s because they yell at me, not you.”

One of the reasons Seokmin chose Chan as his new assistant was his sincerity. In the middle of the interview he “I think there are things in your program that need to change” and started listing things that he thought were dated or ideas that had been used too much and therefore didn't have the same effect on listeners. The others had found him presumptuous as if he wanted to know more than those who worked at the radio. Seokmin disagreed and that's how Chan got the job.

“They yell at you because you’re the new guy, no one yelled at Jiah”

Chan made a sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.

“That's because everyone was afraid of her” Seokmin rolled his eyes and reached for the folder Chan was carrying “Oh, right. Tomorrow is your lecture for the communication classes, but they said it is possible that students from other courses will also be there, because it’llll be in the auditorium”

Seokmin nodded, reading the guidelines Chan had made. He needed to admit that he was organized and had absolute control over everything he did. He was sure that if he asked about Wonwoo's program, Chan would know how to answer as if he worked directly with him.

“You know how it is, I have fans” Chan pretended to vomit “If you go tomorrow, we’ll go out to dinner later, I’ll pay”

"Deal"

Seokmin always found it strange to be called to give lectures at the college where he studied. He wasn't a teacher and he didn't think he had done enough to be someone who could give advice to someone. In fact, Seokmin was sure he hadn't done anything big. His life, to put it very simply, was flat. At least, almost all of his life.

Seokmin has always been the type of guy who makes plans and follows through on those plans. When he was sixteen he got it into his head that he wanted to work in radio. It wasn't without reasons, of course. He joined the school radio and despite doing very little, because the school director had to know everything that would be done, even the nouns he would use in the sentence, he fell in love with the idea. That's why he decided he should study journalism in college, that way even if his radio career didn't work out, he would still have a profession.

But his dream was to work on a radio, to have his own program. So that's what he did.

He entered college as planned, sunk into student debt, and graduated exactly as he had planned. In his last semester, he got an internship at the biggest radio station in the country. He was on cloud nine. It was as if he had received the green light in life and everything was on the right track.

At least that's what he thought. At least that was what he had forced himself to believe. The internship became a permanent position and one day he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That's why he never felt prepared to give anyone advice. Despite having decided on the career he wanted to pursue, he knew that he also needed to count on a little luck and help. The only words he could offer were “you work hard, study, make contacts, and throw the rest into luck’s hands”. It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to hear when he was a student looking forward to the future, so he certainly wouldn't say it to anyone.

However, Chan convinced him that it would be a good idea to give the talk.

“You’re going to tell me how you got here, that’s all. An unknown face who quickly went on air to cover someone for one of the most beloved radio broadcasters in the country. I'm sure if you say that shit fell on your head, they'll like it” Chan had said laughing.

Overall the lecture went very well. Better than expected. He answered the questions as honestly as possible and used his best smile to get rid of the more awkward questions.

Despite the good day, he knew he didn't want to repeat the dose anytime soon.

“They want to know if you would be willing to do one of these a semester” Chan whispered because he knew the answer Seokmin would give, so it was better for the students not to hear.

“No” was all Seokmin said “But I’ll still buy you dinner”

Chan punched the air in celebration, catching the eyes of those around him, but he seemed to care very little.

"I just…"

What Seokmin was about to say, an announcement that he needed to go to the bathroom, died in his throat as he looked straight ahead.

Letter #2

Seokmin,

I thought I would be able to adapt faster here. It was very hard in the beginning with transport, getting around in general was very difficult. So I chose a weekend and went walking around the neighborhood where I live. I don't know how long I'll stay here, but I thought I should check it out. Besides, I can wake up in the middle of the night and decide that I want to eat something that I don't have at home, so it's good to know if there are any stores or markets that open in the middle of the night (in this neighborhood there aren't any, maybe that's why I won’t stay here).

I discovered that going out there, although productive, wasn't such a good idea. Nothing wrong happened, I didn't get hit on or someone was rude to me. Quite the contrary, most people pretended they weren't even seeing me. The problem was that everything made me think about you.

I walked by the store that sold a lot of random old things and decided to go in. You know I love filling the house with trinkets. I didn't find anything there that I liked, but I saw that they were selling camera films. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and all I could think was, I think Seokmin is running out of film, I need to buy more because he will only realize when he doesn't have any left.

I bought it and brought it to the apartment. I opened the door and called your name. It was only later, when I noticed where I was, that it wasn't our apartment, that I realized what I had done.

Even without meaning to, even when I try not to, I find myself looking for you. Everywhere. I go to a restaurant and think about what you would like to eat, I see a dog on the street and I imagine you bending down to pet it. It's not on purpose, I just can't help it. I try, but it's in vain.

I wonder if it will pass. Will this feeling that I succeeded in my career but ruined my personal life disappear or will I feel like this forever — or at least for a good few years?

yn.

It was as if all the air had been ripped from your lungs and there was no way in the world to get you to breathe.

Somehow, some way, Seokmin was standing in front of you, in the middle of the college hallway.

For a moment it was as if you had been transported back in time, to when you were still 22 years old. In another moment you would have simply run up to him and thrown yourself into his arms as if you hadn't spent the whole night clinging to him, as if you hadn't seen each other before classes, as if you hadn't shared the smallest space in the world on the subway for 20 minutes. And your body seemed to remember all of this, like some kind of muscle memory, because you felt like you were being projected forward. Towards him.

You thought Seokmin would talk to you, you were sure he would. But you saw the way his gaze changed, the way it went from complete surprise to a hard look, completely different from anything you had ever seen from him.

In your memory, Seokmin was always brilliant and was always willing to welcome everyone with open arms, even when he felt more shy. You didn’t understand, that look he gave you was completely different from what you imagined could happen.

When you made the decision to return, you knew that there was a possibility of meeting Seokmin, no matter how small it was. You didn't know if he was still friends with the same people, if he still kept in touch with them. You certainly hadn't kept in touch with anyone - except for the two times you talked to Joshua. The possibility existed, but being realistic you knew it was as big as winning the lottery.

Of all the places you thought you could find Seokmin, college was the last one and maybe that was even why you accepted the job. When you were taking the last tests, the ones that would say whether you would graduate at the end of the semester or not, Seokmin was categorical in saying that he would never set foot inside college again. So you thought it was a place he would never go, but there he was. And in your first week, when you needed everything to go well. Not to show that you were ready and that you could do the job, but to reassure yourself that you had made the right choice in accepting the job.

You didn't have time to decide whether to talk to him or not. Seokmin made the decision for both of you. He continued walking as if you weren't there, talking to the boy next to him, laughing. The only indication that he knew who you were was silent once and one that only you could distinguish.

He turned around and left as if nothing had happened.

Was it possible that only you had felt that way? That just your heart had decided it didn't know how to beat, as if a storm was raging inside your body?

You didn't have time to analyze what had just happened. You just forced yourself to take a deep breath and also keep walking as if those brief seconds weren't enough to make your entire world turn completely upside down.

Seokmin dragged his feet into the room, tripping over the rug at the foot of the bed. A curse came out of his mouth, followed by a burp. When he invited Chan to dinner he had no intention of ending the night drunk, being carried home like someone who had just had his first drink.

It had been years since he had gotten that bad and it was comical that the previous occasion was also connected to you.

The memory of leaving you at the airport, on a flight in the middle of the night, was still vivid in Seokmin's mind. Worse than that memory, was the one of you telling him that you had gotten a place in a master's degree on the other side of the world, 18 hours before leaving the country.

“I need to tell you something” you said as he pulled his coat over his head and patted his pockets, making sure he had grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. He needed to leave as quickly as possible, he was already late.

Seokmin had plans to ask you to marry him. He had rented a house where you could spend the weekend, where it would be possible to see the stars. He had prepared himself, but he needed to leave right that second so he would have enough time to go to the house, get everything ready and come back to get you. The owner of the house would help him, since Seokmin decided that he wouldn't tell any of his friends because they might just ruin the surprise.

“I'm already late” he said, quickly looking at his watch. "Did something happen?"

He asked, noticing your already somewhat desperate look. He knew that whatever had happened couldn't be good.

To be honest, he had noticed that something was wrong a few weeks before, and for a while, he decided it would be better not to get into it too much. He knew you well enough to know that you would offer the information when you felt ready to do so. But thinking back on everything, he wished he had asked before, he wished he hadn't given you space, he wished he had forced you to talk to him sooner.

“I passed my master’s degree abroad”

Seokmin’s first reaction was to be happy for you. He knew how much you wanted that, that it was your dream. So he did what any boyfriend would do, he hugged you and congratulated you, told you that you had tried so hard and that they would be idiots not to accept you. The feeling was true and his smile was genuine. He was happy for you.

Knowing what he knew, every now and then Seokmin wondered if he would have done anything differently if he knew what the next words would be out of your mouth. He could have made a fuss, he could have begged you to stay, he could have offered to go with you. But at the time he didn't do any of that.

“I’m leaving today, I need to be at the airport at 11 pm”

Seokmin's ears rang deafeningly. It was as if he had been punched and needed to brace himself against something. The sofa was the closest piece of furniture.

He thought he heard it wrong, he wished he was dreaming, but all he had to do was look at you. It was true. It was as if a puzzle was being completed in Seokmin's mind. The way you had suddenly become distant, how every time he entered the room you hurried to change or close whatever you were looking at on the computer. He didn't even know you signed up. He imagined that you must have done some kind of test, some interview and he didn't even know anything about it.

He had no idea.

Had he been a bad boyfriend, someone who was so focused on making the long-awaited proposal that he had ignored everything else? Or had you hidden it so well that he hadn't noticed?

"What? You’re leaving today?"

It was like the world was spinning too fast and he was trying to keep up with what was happening. It was like being on a roller coaster that kept on falling. He remembered well how the little box with the ring he had carefully chosen weighed in his pocket.

“I didn’t even know you had applied for a position” he whispered, almost just to himself “You didn’t tell me”

And it was at that exact moment, when he looked at you, that Seokmin realized that your relationship was over. You avoided looking at him, your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, which was his. He saw your eyes fill with tears, you swallow hard, and remain silent.

It was unlike you, to stay quiet when you had too many things going through your head. He desperately wanted you to talk to him, to tell him what had been going through your head. He just wanted to understand. Did you believe he would somehow stop you from going? If there was one thing he knew about you, it was the fact that you always put your education first. It wasn't a secret and you didn't want it to be. He just didn't expect things to happen that way.

Seokmin sat in front of the closet, on the floor, and with difficulty opened the doors. Deep in the back, behind several shoe boxes, were two old boxes that he hadn't moved in years. Part of him wished the things inside the boxes were ruined, that they had mold and anything else that could ruin its content. But he had been careful, kept everything in order, taken all necessary precautions, and cleaned the closet periodically.

He ignored the first box and pulled the smaller one towards him, placing it on his bent legs. Seokmin wasn't one to revisit those memories, he liked to keep them as far away from him as possible, but on nights like those, it was impossible.

Seokmin knew what he would find and was sure how he would feel, but he still took the lid off the box, but he didn't dare take out any of the items inside it.

He knew he had reached his lowest point when he was holding on to memories he had of you and not focusing on what was actually happening in his life.

Letter #3

Seokmin,

I talked to Joshua today. Talk is a bit too strong of a word. We exchanged a few words on Instagram. He posted a photo and I liked it, he sent me a DM asking if I was ok and how things were going. I lied, of course. He said everything was fine and he was happy. He didn't talk about you and I didn't ask.

It was very hard to contain myself. I want to know how you are. The more selfish part of my brain wants you to be just as bad as I feel. You know that little demon that sits on our shoulder? He assures me you're even worse. And I hate to think that's the case, but at the same time, I'm sure you're not okay. I know you, we dated for four years, we lived together for almost two years

You were always the more emotional one of the two of us. You were never afraid to show your feelings, not for me or anyone else. You always loved so openly, without any fear. I admit that at first, it scared me a little.

I was an 18-year-old girl who came from a family that had no idea how to show affection, so I was always more reserved in that aspect. And there you were with your beautiful, bright smile, with open arms, affectionate with anyone who came along. I thought you were a crazy person who didn't have the slightest notion of the world. It took a while for me to realize that your world was brighter than mine in ways I couldn't understand.

You were always so untethered, free, showing yourself to anyone who had eyes. When I was closed and more reclusive, you were open and expansive. When I was very shy or reserved, you were more charming and brighter than usual. Not even my worst mood, which seemed endless at times, was a problem for you.

One day you just showed up and decided that you would stay by my side, no matter what. Believe me when I say, I tried to push you away. But with each passing day you were further under my skin.

A kiss at a random party turned into a date at every party, parties became meetings at the college library, which led to coffee dates. One day you decided at the end of each date you had to take me back to the dorms and you kissed me for a long time on the side of the building where no one could see — or at least I made myself believe no one did. Then that alone wasn't enough and you were always with your fingers intertwined with mine, or your arm around my waist. And kisses were no longer reserved for empty streets, of course not. You kissed me anywhere, anytime, no matter who was watching.

You were sneaky, Seokmin.

When I realized it, I was in love with you. Your arms were my refuge. You were my safe space. My home.

yn.

You hated that Seokmin’s reaction, or lack thereof, had gotten to you so much. It was like being punched, and then one more, soon the punch became a beating and to finish with a flourish, it was as if a truck had run over you.

You had plans to go out at the weekend, though alone. Everything was so different, the places you knew no longer existed and friends from the past no longer spoke to you. You would have to rediscover the city without anyone's help. Despite your plans, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the house.

When you decided to return, you knew there would be no way to escape Seokmin. He had become successful not only in his career as a broadcaster but also as a celebrity of sorts. You never imagined you would see his face in magazines or on billboards selling fried chicken. You didn't expect that when you turned on the TV you would see his face in different programs.

In fact, you knew all of that was happening, but somehow you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't have to see any of it. You managed to make yourself believe that you would not be haunted by his images and voice.

When you were away, you always listened to his programs, more than once each one, but it was almost like a relationship between fan and celebrity. You could separate very well what was him and what was you. But being there, in the same country, in the same city, it was much more difficult to make that separation.

Because once you were back, Seokmin was no longer just the radio host with a show about relationships. Far from it. Seokmin was your college sweetheart, the guy whose heart you broke but who, even after seven years, was still in love with.

That was the reality. you were still in love with him. There was no relationship in the world, no man in the world, that would have made you forget about Seokmin. Sometimes it worked, sometimes you managed to forget about him for a few months and that feeling of loss, of emptiness, that had settled deep inside your heart became smaller and smaller. And then it would come back full on as if it had never left.

Maybe that was your curse, your punishment for leaving behind someone you could have spent the rest of your life with. And somehow you knew you would have been happy. Or at least a different kind of happiness.

After spending the weekend holed up inside your apartment, after convincing yourself that you needed to prepare for teaching classes and unpacking the move, she decided that on Tuesday night she would explore the city.

Exploring wasn't the right word. You had discovered that one of your favorite restaurants still existed, it had just changed location. And, despite being on the other side of the city and being completely aware that you would have to pay a fortune for a taxi or risk taking the subway alone almost at closing time, you decided to go anyway.

You needed to feel like one thing hadn't changed, or at least still be recognizable.

You heard your name being called a few minutes after sitting down. You raised your head, recognizing the voice, but couldn't tell who it belonged to. Directly in front of you was a woman, with short hair, in her fifties.

“It’s really you!”

You stood up and a second later you were being hugged. Maybe you had gone there for that reason, knowing that there would be someone there who would recognize you. Or at least you hoped there was. And when you were welcomed with open arms by her owner, Niah, you wanted to cry for the first time in a long time.

“Hi” was all you could offer, your voice weak.

You quickly turned your face away, trying to be discreet as you wiped away your tears. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of someone else. Tears were reserved for dark moments in the silence of your apartment, they weren't meant to be seen by people you didn't even know in a crowded restaurant.

“Look how beautiful you look. You haven't been around for so long. Seokmin told us that you had gone abroad to study, but I thought you would come back sooner.”

You just managed to smile, even though it was embarrassing. It was strange to hear his name coming out of someone else's mouth so easily. For years, his name was just an echo in your own mind, almost as if it were a fantasy of yours.

There were days when you managed to convince yourself of this, that Seokmin was nothing more than a dream.

“Are you just visiting or are you back to stay?”

“I'm staying” you said after a second, when you managed to find your voice again “I got a job here, I have nowhere to run”

Niah laughed and hugged you once again, tighter this time.

"Great, that makes me happy. We always miss you” Niah smiled and ran her fingers down your cheeks, brushing away some tears that were stubborn to fall “What do you want to eat? Today it's on the house. Consider it a welcome gift.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat and the remaining tears.

"What do you recommend?"

The amazing thing about meeting Niah again was that she still acted exactly the same way. She didn't see you as someone who had simply packed a suitcase of clothes and left the country overnight. To Niah you were still that same person from 7 years ago who ate whatever she put in front of. You and Seokmin were always guinea pigs for all the new recipes.

The food was still wonderful, if anything it had just gotten better.

You had a fork halfway to your mouth when you heard the door open, the sound of the bell indicating the entry of a new customer. You almost instinctively turned to look. You choked on your own saliva when your eyes met Seokmin's.

It was as if you were back in the hallway that day. Your heart simply stopped, and the world fell into suspension. For a moment, it was as if you had been transported to the past. You were almost certain that if you looked at the table you would see books open next to the cutlery; you knew that if you looked at Seokmin for another second or two his face would break into the most beautiful smile, he would wave and call your name.

But your illusion shattered into small pieces as his neutral expression contorted into a frown. With the same foot he entered he turned to leave.

“Seokmin!” you called him, getting up from your chair.

Part of you thought he was going to continue out the door, but he stopped. Half of his body was outside the restaurant, the other inside.

“Hurry up and close that door!” Niah said leaving the kitchen “You’re letting out all the heat”

Even with Niah's voice calling him, Seokmin remained standing at the door. You sat back down, but without taking your eyes off him. He didn't know what he expected of him, but he felt an indescribable relief when Niah pulled him by the sleeve of his coat and forced him to sit in front of you.

“The restaurant is packed, so you will have to share a table” she said as she turned her back.

Seokmin shook his head, clearly against sitting there, staying in the restaurant, but he still took off his coat and hung it on the chair before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

It was clear he was working out, his shoulders had gotten broader and his arms bigger since you last saw each other. You almost laughed at the pose, remembering all the times you had seen him in a similar situation. But this wasn't the time to laugh when everything else was screaming that he was uncomfortable with the situation, that he didn't want to be there.

It didn't take a genius to know that Seokmin wanted nothing to do with you. His reaction to seeing you in the hallway the week before and the way he was looking at you in that moment were enough answers.

You felt like the walls were closing in around you and there wasn't enough air in the room.

What were you thinking when you called his name? What were you thinking when you silently watched Niah pull him inside? Why were you still sitting there?

A waiter who worked with Niah passed by your table and you called him discreetly, not wanting to attract the attention of the restaurant owner.

“Can you wrap everything to go, please?” you turned to Seokmin “You can have the table. I was already leaving”

It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Seokmin laughed lowly, scornfully, his sideways smile making the hair on your arms stand on end. In general, Seokmin has always been the type of guy who didn’t lose his cool easily, who would always rather let things go than have any kind of confrontation. But when he really got stressed out or nervous, it took a while for him to calm down again.

You had seen that storm in his eyes very few times in the years you spent together. The last one was when he went to the airport to say goodbye to you. That day the storm was just confusion and pain, you knew you had done that to him. But he sat there in the restaurant, in front of you, in silence while the people around him chatted animatedly, completely oblivious to what was happening between the two of you.

"What it was?" you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, nothing” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “It’s just like you to do that”

You narrowed your eyes at the same time you felt your cheeks get hot.

"Do what?"

"Runaway"

Letter #4

Seokmin,

It took me almost a year to convince myself that it was okay for me to look at social media. I convinced myself that every woman does this, that every now and then we look at our ex-boyfriend's Instagram, just to find out if his new girlfriend is ugly. I've told you this several times, but every female experience is universal.

I wish you were one of those low profile people, who post a picture every 6 months and it's a cut mango on a pretty plate. I wish you hadn't posted so many pictures. But more than anything, I wish I hadn't spent hours and hours looking at the photos. I wish I hadn't been analyzing every photo of you, I wish I hadn't thought “that's a new mole” and wondered which others had appeared since the last time we saw each other.

I had memorized every mole of yours. On your face, on your arms, on your back. On the worst days, when I missed you in a way that almost made me give up everything and go home, I kept remembering each one of them. I tried to remember the sound of your laugh, your voice, how you stroked my hair until I fell asleep when it wasn't a good day.

I keep wondering if one day this feeling will just go away.

It's been a year since I left. I went out with other guys, and I almost dated one of them, but you're always there in the back of my mind, almost comically because even against my will I can't help but compare them to you. I can't help but think that only you know how I like my coffee, how only you know that if I'm in my worst mood, there's no joke in the world that can make me laugh.

I know it's not fair to them. I gave you the chance to get to know me, I allowed you to get closer. I wanted you to come closer to me. Now I wonder if you're doing this for someone other than me.

I like to imagine that you also compare other women to me, that even now that you're dating I stay there, in the back of your mind, making fun of you.

Unfortunately, she's not ugly, but your smile was brighter when I was next to you.

yn.

To say that Seokmin had spent the rest of the week in an envious mood was an understatement. He was stressed and everyone around him soon noticed the change. He really tried not to let his personal life get in the way of his work. It was something he never struggled with. Work was work, what happened when the lights went out and he left the radio should never cross paths with each other. That week, however, it was impossible.

Meeting you at the restaurant caught him off guard. That day in the college hallway had been difficult, but he managed to just keep walking as if nothing had happened. He liked to pretend like he hadn't gone out with Chan right after and drank like there was no tomorrow, like he hadn't opened the boxes he had kept for years and cried while looking at the photos of the two of you together.

He had gone to the restaurant that day because he needed some form of comfort and didn't want to call any of his friends because he knew he would end up telling them everything that happened and would receive advice and words he would rather not hear. The restaurant was the best idea he had. Or maybe the worst possible one.

Maybe he had done it consciously, because he wanted to see you one more time, and wanted to make sure he hadn't imagined you. It wouldn't have been the first time.

In the first few months after you left, Seokmin got into the habit of visiting places he went with you, or places you liked to go alone. It was probably a form of torture, but he liked to imagine it was a way to forget and overcome the breakup. On several of those days, he believed he saw you. He realistically knew it wasn't you, he clearly remembered seeing you get on the plane and waited until it took off to leave the airport.

The worst thing that could have happened to him was you calling for him. Seokmin couldn't help but wonder if he had always reacted that way to you, if your presence was always so great that before he even saw you he knew you were nearby. That day, as soon as he opened the door, before he even saw you sitting there with your eyes wide open, he knew. He knew you were there.

The last thing he expected from you was you saying his name, as if asking him to sit with you, that Niah, knowing how the relationship had ended, would have made him sit in front of you.

Seokmin noticed your discomfort, the way your spine had become a little straighter, the way your eyes were hard and cautious at the same time. Your reaction made him angry. What right did you have to behave that way, as if you were hurt when all the decisions regarding a relationship both of you were in had been made by you?

You were the one who signed up for a master's degree abroad. It was you who never told him about your decision. It was you who kept everything secret, making him believe that the two of you were on the same page and that despite your different goals, you would be able to pursue them together.

Turns out he was wrong, those dreams were just his and didn't include him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chan asked for the thousandth time.

For the first time in a long time, Seokmin was having a hard time hiding how he really felt. That polished, carefully carved mask had fallen. It was a completely atypical day and everyone was able to notice his sudden change in mood. Even Chan, who normally did a great job of ignoring all the problems around him and focusing solely on his work, seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s really obvious, isn’t it?” Seokmin asked in a low voice and Chan just nodded "And if I pretend it's because of the new segment, will anyone believe it?"

Again, Chan nodded. Since he had started the program, 3 years before, Seokmin would receive calls and speak directly to listeners. Although there were always interactions, those were always done through live chat and email when he received questions or stories from people who were not listening to the program when it was airing.

Seokmin wasn't nervous about the idea, he was actually excited. Chan knew this and knew that whatever the problem was, it was still the same as the day of the lecture. He didn't want to ask, and he didn't want to seem invasive, but he still wanted to make sure Seokmin was okay — or at least, well enough to do the program.

“I think everyone is already thinking that” was a lie and even Seokmin knew it, but he was grateful.

“You may already know this, but today we will start a new segment. We'll call it the heart to heart helpline, at least until we find a better name at least” Seokmin's voice and laugh resonated through the taxi “We'll take your calls and some of you will be able to talk to me and ask your questions live, instead of by chat. Each person will have a maximum of 2 minutes and we will answer 6 calls today”

You had left the house completely willing to avoid anything related to Seokmin. Realistically, you knew you couldn't do anything about the billboards and his face at bus stops, but you could very well avoid his radio show. And for a few weeks you had managed to do just that.

That day at the restaurant had almost been a cathartic moment. Somehow, it was as if something had clicked and fallen into place. The Seokmin you left behind no longer existed. It had been a naive thought to think so. You didn't expect that he would still be exactly the same person, of course not. Seven years had passed and Seokmin, like you, was approaching his thirties. Obviously, many things had changed, but you still expected to see traces of that 22-year-old boy you had known and loved.

You didn't spend more than five minutes with him at that table. And it was much more than enough. He had accused you of running away, of continuing to do this for years. Of course, that could be his view on everything, but it was never your intention. The only problem was that you hadn't been able to tell him those things. You had been so lost and so completely helpless in front of him that you had forgotten that you knew how to speak and form sentences.

You had spent years of your life writing letters to him, letters that he would never read, but that was beside the point. You wrote letters as a way to appease the emptiness you felt in your heart. You never, not for a second, thought you were running away. You never wanted to run away, but Seokmin seemed to believe you did.

In a sudden burst of anger, you took your phone out of your bag and dialed the number Seokmin spoke on the radio. You didn't expect your call to go through. In fact, you didn't even know what you expected.

“Please wait a minute, we will connect your call” a non-robotic voice said as you paid for the taxi.

Seokmin was still chatting animatedly with a listener who didn't have a real question, but who “just wanted to say that I really liked your show and that I’m a fan.” It was impossible not to roll your eyes. If she, and everyone else, knew how much of a complete asshole he could be just because he had the opportunity, they would never want to see his face again.

Or maybe they would team up against you in favor of the immaculate Seokmin. God knew how easily a man could turn public opinion in his favor with a beautiful smile. And God was also a witness that Seokmin's smile was simply wonderful, one that took your breath away, one that made you smile along because it was contagious.

“Welcome to the heart to heart helpline” Seokmin’s voice sounded in your ear “What’s your question?”

You didn't really think that your call would get through to Seokmin, you didn't think the signal would be good enough inside the elevator, but none of that seemed to be a problem.

“Hello, can you hear me?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You knew you were going really crazy, but you decided to throw caution out the window and be the crazy person everyone used to believe you were.

“Yes, I’m here” you could have sworn, that even over the phone, you felt Seokmin tense up “It’s a question about an old relationship, we broke up years ago, if that’s okay”

You struggled with your keys, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. You needed to get to your computer or tablet, whichever was closer. It was almost a physical necessity to see Seokmin's reaction to your voice, your question.

You always knew how to tell if he was truly calm or if he was masking what he was feeling. You wanted to know if you still had any other sort of effect on him. Whatever it was, it was better than angry disdain.

“Old relationships should stay in the past, don’t you think?” he finally said.

You nodded as you ran into your room. You knew you would find the tablet under your pillow — you were sure that if your mother saw it she would say that your brain would explode due to the radiation from the device. With a few taps, you opened the stream of Seokmin's program.

“I think so. But the problem is that we keep seeing each other. I don’t think it’s something either of us want, but it seems inevitable.”

You turned the sound off, you just wanted to focus on his reactions. Seokmin swallowed hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixed on the microphone in front of him. To anyone, it just seemed like he was concentrating on the call, on what the person on the other end of the line had to say, but you knew very well that it was to hide his reactions.

"Your question?"

“Well, he called me selfish and said I ran away when we broke up, but that's not exactly what happened. I wanted to talk to him, but I don’t think he wants to listen to me.”

Seokmin took a deep breath and seemed to think about what to say next, his eyes no longer on the microphone, but on the ceiling.

“And why does he think that about you? You probably gave him reasons, don't you think? I don’t think anyone would think that about someone without anything having happened.”

“I always dreamed of studying abroad, so when the opportunity came, I went. I…"

“Did you tell him you were going?” Seokmin clenched his fists on the desk, his fingers gripped the pen in his hand tightly until his knuckles were white. “Did you give him a chance to say something or did you just walk away?”

You were speechless, eyes focused only on Seokmin. The way his hair perfectly framed his face, his sculpted thin nose. He was still exactly like he was seven years ago, just somehow different. He was the same, but he also wasn't.

You hadn't given him the chance to say anything, you had just walked away, but because you believed it was the best thing to do. You would have stayed if he had asked, I would have aborted all of your plans for him,

“Long distance relationships don’t work” you said finally, your voice lower “especially when there’s an ocean separating people”

“I'm going to guess and say that you were together for a while because I don't think anyone would care that much about a quick relationship” his voice became more sober, completely in control of his emotions, the opposite of what you felt, like you were enclosed every second that passed “I agree with you, long-distance relationships don’t work. Different cities are already complicated, I can't imagine what it would be like to be with someone who lives in another country. You didn't give many details, but I believe he had reasons to feel that way, just as you had your reasons for leaving without warning. I think the best thing for both of you is to let it fall into oblivion. It makes no sense for either of you to dwell on these feelings. Maybe your desire to talk exists because you think you've left things open with him, but he may think that what's in the past shouldn't be remembered. Maybe you're just a bad relationship he wants to forget.”

Letter #5

Seokmin

I found out by chance that you now have your own radio show. One day it was an empty slot in the schedule and the next it was your voice. To my joy and delight, it was one of those programs that also had video streaming. I say joy and delight in a very ironic way.

But I'm not lying when I say I'm happy for you. You always said it was your dream and in a way, here we are, achieving our dreams. It would have been better if we could have lived through this together, I think. Maybe if that were the case I wouldn't have this empty feeling inside my chest.

But I discovered a long time ago that I can't keep crying over spilled milk. I left and you moved on with your life. They were conscious choices, I knew what I was doing. I knew that making this choice would have hurt both of us, but I also knew that we could overcome it. It's just taking longer than expected. I honestly thought that by this point, so many years later, we would have been able to live as if the past were just that, the past.

But it's not like that for me or for you.

I may be completely crazy, but your show is about love advice and how to deal with heartbreak. Sometimes, when I hear you talk, I'm sure you've already dealt with all your feelings, after all, you've had other girlfriends. But there are other moments, when you answer a question or when you read one of the pre-written texts when I'm sure that what you said applies directly to what we both had.

I'm going crazy, aren't I?

It's been four years since I left. I already finished my master's degree and started my PhD, exactly as planned. I have a date tonight with a guy who seems genuinely nice, but here I am, writing yet another letter that will never be sent to the guy I was in love with.

What am I still doing?

Seokmin had always believed that for a relationship to truly end there must be no trace of it anywhere. When he told his listeners that they should get rid of items, it was not a lie. He was just terrible at following his own advice. The old story of do as I say, not as I do.

Finally, he decided it was time to take his own advice. With a little pain and resentment added to the mix, of course. At this point, he wondered if he could already be considered a masochist or if he still had a few boxes to tick to get the title.

Getting your address had been easier than expected. All he had to do was ask Niah, who offered the information without any resistance.

“Being thirty didn't make either of you any smarter,” she said as she leaned across the table and wrote the address on the napkin.

“Almost thirty” he felt the need to correct her, but decided he would ignore the hidden message in her words.

Seokmin never stopped going to Niah's restaurant. It was there that he had cried his sorrows over the cheapest drinks possible, he didn't have the money to pay for the good ones, while Joshua tried to console him. He had never seen Niah so stressed and angry. She hadn't said anything, but you could clearly hear the sound of her cutting the vegetables more aggressively than necessary.

Little by little she became calmer about the situation and started talking about you with the same affection as before. Seokmin always thought she had somehow kept in touch with you, or at least found a way to get your number or a way to contact you. At first, he had been angry, but somehow he believed he didn't have that right. It was only after a year that Seokmin decided to ask and the answer he received was “if I still had contact with her, I would have already screamed at her about disappearing without telling anyone”.

Asking Niah for your address was the only option he had. He refused to go to college, where you worked. He didn't know what would happen, whether you would be friendly with each other or the conversation would end in a shouting match just because. Because after years of no contact and considering the way things ended, it was pretty obvious that resentment could resurface — at least Seokmin had resentment up to his neck and knew that not releasing them all at once required almost inhuman self-control.

He looked at the building one more time before getting out of the car. It was one of those without a doorman. Seokmin knew that if he rang and asked to be let in, the probability of being sent to hell was very high. So he pulled up his cap down and covered as much of his face as he could while he balanced the boxes on his arms.

He stood there like a madman for almost twenty minutes until someone finally left the building. Seokmin felt like he was committing a crime when he slipped through the door before it closed. Even though the feeling was strange he made himself believe it was the only option he had and he really didn't have any bad intentions. He just wanted to return your things and, hopefully, arrange that if you ever met again, you’d simply pretend you don't know each other, instead of talking nonsense to each other.

Seokmin took a deep breath once before knocking on the door. He heard footsteps and a second later the door opened.

When you imagined what your Wednesday night would be like, the only option that crossed your mind was to order a pizza and watch a movie — the random option of Netflix seemed like your best friend and the only possible option because you weren't even able to choose what to watch by yourself.

Not even in your wildest daydreams could you have imagined that Seokmin would show up at your door with two boxes in his hand.

You were partially tempted to close the door on his face, but you knew that doing so would only make the whole situation worse. If Seokmin, who clearly didn't have any good feelings about you, was standing there at your door it was because he had something to say. Or more precisely to hand it over to you, considering the boxes in his arms.

Silently you stepped aside so he had enough room to enter. You wanted to slap yourself for the complete war zone that your living room was in. You were still unpacking the moving boxes, not that you had taken much with you. It was too expensive to send things from one country to another, especially furniture. You had only focused on your clothes and books and a few things you wanted to keep, and that alone was more than you were willing to spend. In addition to the boxes, you had all the things you still had to buy, but you still didn't have the mind to do it.

You had so much going through your head that cleaning the apartment was just another task you wanted to avoid. But it was one that could be left for later. In the few minutes that Seokmin spent there, you wished you had tidied it up, that he hadn't seen how that room represented your life at that moment: a complete mess.

"What are you doing here?" you finally asked when you managed to get your vocal cords to work properly.

Seokmin didn't seem to care about the mess but paid attention to everything else around him.

He placed the boxes on the counter and took off his cap, pressing the brims with his fingertips looking for what to say next. He had rehearsed an almost poetic speech in the car, something about being adults and how your relationship had ended a long time ago, so neither of you should have any regrets left. But the moment you opened the door and looked at him it was as if all the words had simply evaporated from his mind, as if he had never learned to speak in the first place.

It had always been that way with you. Sometimes when he looked at you, even when you were still together, he got lost. He was like a man adrift who had finally found solid land. It was as if he heard a click and the world started to move once again.

One of his favorite things, when you were dating and living together, was being able to come home after an exhausting day and see you sitting on the sofa in the living room, your computer on your lap, while you studied, occasionally shouting profanities at the computer. On those days, Seokmin would simply push the computer away and lay his head on your lap.

“Just five minutes” he used to say with his eyes closed.

You’d laugh, fingers immediately running through his hair, as if it was the most natural movement in the world.

“Who do you want me to insult today? You know my vocabulary is very colorful.”

How many times had he slept in that position, without meaning to, and you had to drag him to bed because “it's comfortable for you, but my legs are numb and you have to take a shower, you won't sleep dirty next to me, sir”.

It was impossible not to wonder where it all went wrong.

“I came to return your things” he pointed at the boxes.

You suppressed the urge to bend down and rummage through the boxes. You wanted to know what he had kept, what he considered important enough to keep for so many years. You knew he no longer lived in the apartment you shared. When you were looking for apartments you saw that that one was up for rent. It was necessary to restrain yourself from choosing it. It wasn't a good apartment, at least not at the time — the photos on the website said the property had undergone renovations two years earlier and had no tenants since. It wasn't big, it barely fit one person, but it was what your extremely limited budget could afford at the time. Somehow you and Seokmin turned that small space into a home full of life. Of love.

In the places where you lived, you bought all kinds of trinkets to fill the space, furniture you didn't need and never used, hoping to imitate, for even a second, the feeling you had in that little 35 square meter apartment.

You never quite managed to do that.

“Thank you” you said sincerely “I thought all my things had gone in the trash”

You laughed and Seokmin squeezed the back of his head and pointed at the boxes.

“I sold what I could, I didn't want to put it in storage because I really thought we would never see each other again. The money is in an envelope”

“Why did you keep all this?” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself “You should have thrown it away or, since you sold it, you should have spent the money”

Seokmin had asked himself that question several times before, sober or not, and he never had an answer. After a while, he simply stopped questioning and accepted it as something he had to do, to have some kind of sanity. It didn’t. Knowing that those boxes were inside his wardrobe, having to go through them the two times he moved, only brought back memories that he would like to forget.

Ever since you had seen each other again for the first time, memories that Seokmin had struggled to bury came to the surface as if they had just happened. He started to dream about you, dreams that range from memories to things that never actually happened, he started to wonder if it would be okay to talk with someone. His brain always screamed NO, so he was stuck just dreaming.

“I don’t have a good enough reason. It is what it is, I guess,” he said.

The last time Seokmin felt so embarrassed around you was right when you met and even then it only lasted a few minutes. The 18 year old Seokmin was much braver than the 29 year old man in front of him.

That boy, without any guilt or remorse, would have asked every question that could cross his mind. You’d say “your mind is beautiful, it even echoes sometimes”. Seokmin wanted to still have some of that boy's strength. Maybe that was the only way to know what he wanted. He wouldn't ask and he knew you wouldn't offer the information to him without being pressured.

“I think in the end, we both got what we wanted.”

You realized you said the wrong thing when you looked at Seokmin’s hands. A second before he was clutching his cap until his knuckles turned white, the next his long fingers were still. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You knew what you’d find. You messed up, but couldn’t take back what you said.

“You got what you wanted” Seokmin corrected you, his voice firm, his tone hard.

“You always wanted to have a radio show”

“No, I wanted you. I could adapt to everything else if it meant I would have you.”

You shook your head. You knew it wasn't true. Hell, even Seokmin knew it wasn’t true. The first time you talked, Seokmin mentioned how much he wanted to be a radio host and have his own show, of any kind. I don't have a preference, I know I can give anything my own colors. You felt envious of his certainty, of the way he knew he could do it.

“The show has always been your dream” you tried again, despite knowing it was in vain to argue with him.

“My dream was to have a life by your side. You never, not once, told me that you signed up to study abroad, you never even mentioned it. When it was time to go you just got on a plane and disappeared. You never even gave me the chance to follow you. I could have been a journalist anywhere in the world”

Seokmin hated the direction of that conversation, hated being so exposed in front of you after so many years. In the past, it wasn't a problem. Before he wanted to be exposed in front of you, he wanted to share everything he was, every aspect of himself with you. No more. The problem was that he couldn't just stop. A gate was opened and there was no way to close it.

“So, what? Would we both be living based on our dreams? Because this is a dream, and you know it very well.”

You clung to the top rail of the chair, your head lolling forward in an almost futile attempt to stop him from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. You knew you couldn't hold them.

You weren't the type of person who cried often, you did what you could to avoid it, but when the tears came it was impossible to simply stop them from falling.

“Yeah, maybe I was really dreaming, because I believed that you loved me in the same proportion, but it’s quite obvious that you didn’t”

Seven years of pent-up frustration couldn't just disappear, he should have known. He should have imagined that going there would be a problem, that being in the same space as you without any kind of interference was a mistake. But he was still there and there was no way to escape. It was better to end everything quickly than to keep those feelings for another seven years in the hopes of one day being able to say something.

Seokmin watched as you went to one of the boxes in the corner of the room and opened it forcefully, tearing the cardboard, and causing some of the contents to slide across the floor. He felt his body freeze as a roll of film stopped at his feet.

“So explain to me, why do I buy a roll of film every time I pass by a store?” you put both hands inside the box and took out several rolls of film, of different brands and models. “Explain to me, why have I followed your career all this time and never missed a damn show in the last 3 years? Why would I wake up in the middle of the night to watch the broadcast and then listen to the show again while going to work because I just wanted to hear your voice?”

You walked to another box, but you opened this one a little more carefully as if wanting to protect the contents.

“Why did I spend 7 years writing letters that would never be read to a guy I never loved?”

You threw several envelopes at Seokmin’s chest. Your face and body shook out of anger or another feeling he couldn't quite tell.

Seokmin bent down to pick up one of the envelopes from the floor. His name was written in your careful handwriting. He didn't need to look at all the other ones to know that they were also addressed to him. He didn't know how many letters were scattered on the floor, or if there were any left in the box. The only thing he was sure of was that he had no idea how to proceed.

“If that doesn’t say I loved you, if that doesn’t say I still love you, I don’t know what the fuck does.”

Seokmin saw the first tear run down your face and fell silent. He knew he should turn his back, he knew he should walk away, just like you did seven years before. Instead, he took four steps in your direction, his eyes never left your heaving chest and the tears that ran freely over your cheeks.

At that moment he knew that he only had two options: he could turn around and leave, he gave you back your things that alone made his plan a success; or he could kiss you like he had been wanting to since the moment he saw you again.

To hell with his plan.

Seokmin held your face in his hands and pulled you to him, crashing his lips on yours. It was an all too new feeling but also familiar, almost like coming to a remodeled home. It was him and it was you, if only it was just that simple.

You sighed into him, your arms wrapping around his slim waist while your hand balled a fist full of his shirt. There were so many moments where you wished you could be right in that spot, again in his arms. Dreams and daydreams, wishful thinking, whatever you could call it. Thoughts of Seokmin had always been a constant in your mind. It was impossible not to compare other people you went out with to him.

Your longest relationship had been one of almost a full year. Although the beginning had been good and easy, with you somehow managing to avoid any and all Seokmin related dreams and thoughts, it turned sour the second he crossed your mind.

“Seokmin, I…”

He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes so intense that it was difficult to keep looking at him.

“Let’s not overthink it, okay?” was all he said.

You held his face for a couple, searching for something in his features, anything at all, that could indicate that the moment wasn’t for that. But all you saw in him was the same emotions you felt, the same need and desire.

You pulled Seokmin to you again, this time hungrier, your chest pressed to his. Your mind was loud telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t be doing that, why having him so close to you was truly the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in. But all of those voices, all of those words and thoughts were silenced the moment he kissed you again.

His lips were hungry, demanding all of you. And it was so easy to just give in to him, to his hands roaming on your body, down your back until he reached your ass. He gave it a light squeeze and ran his hand back up again, this time under your shirt. You moaned softly at the contact of his skin on yours, as he kissed your neck, bitting on the exact same spot he found years before.

He smiled over your skin.

“At least this hasn’t changed”

It was all too much but not nearly enough. Just having him that close to you was dizzying enough but him touching you and enjoying the fact that you were just as weak for him at twenty nine made you never want to let go of him again.

“Where’s your room?”

You took Seokmin by the hand, guiding him through the narrow corridor.

Your room was barely a room to begin with. You had no furniture except for the mattress lying on the floor, your clothes were either on the suitcase or on the chair on the side.

“This is unlike you” Seokmin said, his chest pressed to your back while he nibbled on the skin of your neck.

“I… hm… I” you sturred a little when he bit into a particularly sensitive spot, making him chuckle “I’m waiting on delivery”

Seokmin turned you around in his arms while lightly pushing you down on the mattress. His eyes never left yours as he ran his hand under your shirt, moving the fabric up until your chest was exposed.

It had been so long since you had been with anyone, it was almost like a reflex to want to pull your shirt back down. Since him, it had been hard to just let yourself be exposed to someone like that. You had become awfully aware of your body and things you never cared for or paid attention to before suddenly became worries. You didn't like that insecure version of yourself but when Seokmin cupped your breast in his hand his touch was almost solemn.

It was probably the worst timing in the world when you felt tears burn on the back of your eyes. You pulled his face to yours again, trying to hide your tears from him once again.

Suddenly, his touch was tender when he pushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers careful.

Seokmin moved down on your body. When you saw his fingers on the waistband of shorts you lifted your hips off of the mattress to help him move the fabric down quicker.

He kissed your hips and inner thigh. You moaned in anticipation, your hand taking a fist full of his soft hair. When his lips finally found your clit it was like fireworks erupted behind your closed eyelids.

Seokmin was impossibly hard in his pants, embarrassingly so like he was a teenager having his first time.

He never thought that he would have you in his arms again and yet there you were in front of him, no reservations. Just for him. And for a moment it was like his brain was in short circuit, the small electric waves running all over his body, down to his toes.

He licked a path from your cunt to your clit. He went down on you almost in desperation, his nose brushing on your clit every now and then.

"Seokmin..." his name was barely a whisper in your lips, but it was also a chant.

Your orgasm hits you quickly, leaving you short of air and with shaky legs. You were spiraling in the most enticing way possible. It didn't stop Seokmin though as he kept sucking you frantically.

You tugged on his hair, pulling him up and to you again.

I love you, the words almost fell out of your lips. It would have been so easy to just say them, to be open about your feelings just this once.

Deep down you knew that that moment would be a one time kind of thing. It was just the kind of moment people sometimes needed to just completely let go of everything. Or in this case, nothing. It was to let go of seven years of complete nothingness and silence.

You opened the button of his jeans and pushed it down, his boxers following along. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him a couple of times. Realization suddenly came over you. You never expected Seokmin to show up to your place, much less that it would lead to that moment, and there wasn't anyone else in your life, so you weren't ready for it.

"I don't have a condom" you said breathlessly.

Seokmin looked lost for a second, his brain going to his wallet, questioning whether or not he had one in him.

"I can pull out," he said "if that's okay"

All you did was nod and Seokmin aligned himself with your hole. He pushed in slowly, savoring each moment when your pussy pulled him in until there was no space between the two of you.

Seokmin kissed you again to give himself time to adjust to you squeezing him. You held his face close to yours, in your eyes a mix of emotions he didn't want to understand. Not in that moment at least.

"I don't want anyone else," you said looking into his eyes, your thumb running over his bottom lip "No one else can make me feel the way you do"

To hell with care and self-preservation. You let go of those the moment you opened the door for him, the moment you let him into your home, the moment you didn't push him away when he kissed you.

Seokmin fucks you slowly, his pace torturous as you beg and beg for more. He intertwined his fingers with yours and held one of your hands above your head while the other one held your hips in place.

"Seokmin... harder"

And it's like a switch has gone off inside his brain. His once slow pace becomes shallow. The sound of your breaths and his skin slapping against yours were the only ones heard, echoing through the empty room.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, catching you so off guard you scream because it's too much.

You pushed Seokmin away and watched in ecstasy as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand working fast as your name left his lips when his release fell on the sheet by your side.

Seokmin dropped his body over yours again, his forehead on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and ran your hand over his hair.

"I love you" you allowed yourself to say, even if it meant nothing to him.

Letter #6

Seokmin,

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm coming home. Or the closest thing I still have to a home. Needless to say, my mother is happy with the news. She's been tormenting me for years, asking me to come back, but since I set foot here I decided I wasn't going back.

I wanted to, but I wouldn't go back.

Every time I thought about going back, the first thing that came into my head was the last image I had of you. Your teary eyes wishing me a safe flight, saying I love you and hope you accomplish everything you want. I regretted it the moment I gave my things away and handed my passport into the hand of the airline girl. I should have come back, I should have given up, but I couldn't. That old story of putting myself first and second, you know how it goes. In this case, my entire top 10 was just different versions of me.

I think I actually felt scared because as time went by, little by little without me realizing it right away, you became a very big part of my life. A part that could change everything. I felt like I depended on you too much. It wasn't fair to you or me.

We were only 22, Seokmin. When we were so young, we thought that life was conquered and today I know that is not the case. Far from it. At 22 I had a degree and worked part-time at a cafe to pay the bills, just like you.

You might think I'm selfish, I'm sure you do based on the things you say on your show. I was selfish and on some level, I don't regret it. I did what I always planned to do, what I always wanted to do. And now I'm coming home.

Part of me wants to run and find you, explain why I made the decisions I did, why I never told you. But I know you won't want to listen to me. I wouldn't want to listen to me either. Why would I listen to someone who left just like that? It really wouldn't make sense.

But another part, this one a little more rational, says that I shouldn't throw salt into the wound after so many years have gone by. I have the scar here, hidden enough for no one to see, but prominent enough for me to remember what I did every single day.

I think that's what I'm going to do. I think that's what I have to do. It wouldn't be fair to just show up in front of you and say “hi, I'm back” after seven years.

You have become a big “what if” for me. What if I had stayed? Would we have stayed together or would our relationship have ended years ago? What if I had told you what I was doing while I was doing it? Would you have asked me to stay? What if I had given the possibility of a long-distance relationship? Would we have worked out or would you start to resent me for leaving and end up hurting each other anyway?

The most absurd thing is that I still like you, I'm still in love with you. I've always heard that distance makes love end or something like that. I haven't seen you in seven years, I don't know what's going on in your life — you're really good at hiding everything being a celebrity now — so it doesn't make any sense that my feelings haven't changed even after all this time. This guy I see online might not be the Seokmin I fell in love with, just like I'm not the same person you remember.

Every time I hear your voice I still feel butterflies in my stomach. I sleep and dream about you. When I wake up I think about you and I wonder if you think about me too. It is not normal. It's not healthy. Life went on and I think it is our obligation to move forward together. We are not a museum to only feed on the past.

Let's continue as we are now, what do you think? We will once again be in the same country, in the same city, but I think it's best for both of us to pretend that nothing will change. It's a huge city, what are the chances of us meeting?

Before you even opened your eyes, you already knew what you would find. Or who you wouldn't find. You knew the space next to you on the mattress would be empty. You had noticed the exact moment Seokmin had gotten up, but you forced yourself to believe that he had just gone to the bathroom. You had kept your eyes closed and had somehow gone back to sleep.

You had been naive to think that the night had changed something, that the way everything seemed like it would be fine was an indication that things had finally gotten back on track. If any, the train simply ended up derailing.

When Seokmin kissed you it was magical, no matter how cliché and teenage it may sound. It was as if the world had fallen into place again, as if you had finally returned home after being away for so long. You couldn't help but wonder if that was why you'd taken the job, in the foolish, unconscious hope that there might be a chance, however slight, of being with him again.

You forced yourself to sit up and pulled the sheet up to cover your naked body. The shirt and shorts you wore the night before were next to you on the floor, but you refused to wear those clothes, opting to rummage through the boxes in the corner of the room looking for clean ones.

You didn't want to go to the living room, didn't want to be mocked by the two boxes that Seokmin had left on the counter, but you couldn't help it. It was as if your feet had a life of their own. When you realized it, you were already sitting on the living room floor with the two boxes in front of you.

You momentarily decided to ignore the smaller black box and pulled the large one closer. The first thing you saw was the envelope Seokmin mentioned the night before. Money, especially the one in the envelope, wasn't something you were going to worry about. You didn't care about it, you didn't lie when you told him that he should have spent it. That money would remain untouched.

There were also a few books you read and made annotations on, two stuffed animals, and all the picture frames you had left behind.

One of the things you regretted the most was not taking with you when you left were photos of you and Seokmin. You had only taken one, which was folded inside your wallet. It was already so old and worn out that it had almost turned to dust, but you would never get it out. It was you and Seokmin at Niah's old restaurant, he was smiling at the camera while you looked at him. It was your favorite picture.

At the bottom of the box was the camera you had given Seokmin as a birthday present a few months before you left. You had saved whatever money you could for months to buy him the camera he wanted, one that he always talked about and whenever you passed by a store you stood outside looking at it, almost as if it would magically appear in his hands.

You understood his reasons for leaving the camera there — or, at least, the reasons you could imagine—but you wished he had kept using it. Not because it was a gift from you, but because it was something he wanted. His smile was so big when you gave it to him, the tip of his nose slightly pointed down because of it.

Carefully you put everything back inside and put it aside.

The smaller box, for some reason, was scary. It was light and black, and you could hear its contents moving as you held it in your hands. You took one last deep breath and removed the lid.

Inside were photos you had never seen before. Photos of you alone, Seokmin wasn't in any of them. In none of them were you posing or smiling directly at the camera.

Most of them had been taken from a distance, without you noticing. In some you were inside the cafe where you worked, smiling at customers and serving tables, in others you were simply walking down the street, looking through window shops and pointing at something. Seokmin had taken countless photos of you without you even realizing it.

It was strange to see yourself through his eyes, even if it was a version of you that no longer existed. A much younger and more optimistic version. Did I smile that much? you couldn't help but ask. You never saw yourself as particularly optimistic or constantly smiling. You were happy, that's undeniable, but you didn't know that's how people saw you.

There were so many photos, from completely different moments, both from the beginning of your relationship with Seokmin, and from all the phases you went through together.

Behind the pictures were the post-its that you left around the apartment, reminding Seokmin of somewhere you had together or simply saying that you loved him. So many had a simple “I love you” written on them, others said “have a good day today!”.

You had no idea he had kept them. You always thought that once read, they were discarded, but there they were, intact as if you had just written them.

The very first one you had ever written, when you had just started dating, was also there. At the time, unlike Seokmin who never had a hard time expressing how he felt, it was almost impossible for you to be openly honest. So you wrote it on a post-it and stuck it inside one of his notebooks. He had shown up at the dorm a few hours after you left the library.

“Say it again, but this time looking at me”

You frowned, pretending you didn't understand.

“Your nose is beautiful”

You laughed when Seokmin wrapped his arms around you, squeezing a little, trapping your arms close to your body. His face was very close to yours.

“What you wrote in the note” he said softly, his cheek pressed against yours “Say it again, please”

The truth was that you had loved Seokmin, in a way you didn't believe was possible and maybe that was why you spent the last seven years writing letters to him.

Seokmin never left your mind, not truly. There was always a desire, even if veiled, to return home, to find out how he was, to just say “I know I messed up, I’m sorry”.

It was that desire that made your entire body go cold as you took one last item out of the box. A smaller box that fit in the palm of your hand. You knew what it was before you even opened it and opening it was the worst choice at that moment. Your heart, which was already broken, somehow managed to break even more, into a billion, shiny, new pieces.

Seokmin would have proposed if you hadn't left.

When the first sob echoed through the living room, you didn't try to hold it back, you just accepted the feeling of being absolutely lost and heartbroken.

The weather outside the building seemed to mimic the way you had felt in the last few weeks, torrential rain that had no end in sight. You watched the news hoping for an improvement, hoping that the rain would stop for at least a few hours, but it seemed like a distant dream.

All your students were already gone and there was nothing left for you to do. The handed in assignments were graded and the tests were ready to be applied the following week. You had never hated yourself so much for simply doing your job. You wanted to be, at least for that day, like other teachers who left corrections until the last possible second and left students desperate for their grades.

The hallway was in complete silence, a clear sign that everyone had left already. And you had already waited hours for the rain to stop, until the sky was completely dark, and if anything the rain had only gotten worse.

You sighed and picked up your bag from the chair. You wouldn't risk taking any books, papers, or documents home, the possibility of everything getting ruined was too big. Besides, you needed a rest, at that point it was well deserved.

Ever since you had opened the boxes Seokmin left behind, you had immersed yourself in work in every way possible. You had accepted all of the dean's requests and even offered to teach extra classes whenever there was a missing professor.

And even so, even though you had more work than you wanted, you still found time to look at all of his social media. You still listened to all his programs, even listened to the old ones before going to sleep.

It was almost like a form of elaborate torture done solely and exclusively with you in mind. And worst of all, it was self-inflicted. It was as if your brain liked it, begged for it.

The box with the engagement ring was next to your pseudo bed. It was the last thing you saw before going to sleep and the first thing you saw when you woke up. Instead of spending hours on your phone, you sat there, staring at the small box.

You hadn't dared to open it again. You had never felt so lost as you did that day, looking at that ring.

You wouldn't be a hypocrite to say that you had never imagined your life if you had married Seokmin, but before it was nothing more than a daydream. The ring made that dream an attainable reality. It had been in your hands and you just walked away.

A curse left your lips when you noticed that the umbrella you had used that morning was missing from the umbrella holder next to the door.

“Great, that’s exactly what I needed” you muttered, slamming the door shut behind you.

You were tired, exhausted to tell the truth. All you wanted was to get home, take a shower, and watch some relationship reality show, to escape the tragedy that was your own love life.

You closed your eyes and sighed as you reached the entrance. The next bus stop or subway station was at least a 15 minute walk away. That was a problem that existed when you went to school there, everything was far away. One would think that they would do something to improve that, but one would be wrong.

You thought about taking shelter in the nearest coffee shop, but you knew it was almost closing time. You wouldn't be the person who forces employees to stay late, not when you had worked at that exact coffee shop years ago.

Even with your heavy coat covering most of your body, the rain was cold on your back and it was hard to see anything ahead, even if it was just a few steps away. Even the sound of cars was muffled by the rain.

“yn?” a car was on your left, and it was moving at the same speed as you. The face of whoever was behind the wheel was blurred by the rain, but you would have recognized that voice anywhere in the world.

“Let me give you a ride”

You shook your head. The last thing you should do was get in the car with him. It was too dangerous, you were sure that if you looked at him for more than a second you’d start crying. Just by hearing his voice your eyes were burning and a lump was forming in your throat.

“It’s fine, the bus stop is right there”

“There was an accident back there, the bus won’t be here anytime soon”

You grumbled. Of course, there was an accident, of course, there wouldn't be a bus and with your luck, the subway would probably be closed too.

"If your car went through the accident, a taxi will too”

You quickened your pace, not because of the rain, but because you wanted to get away from him. You needed to get away from him.

“Jesus, yn, just get in the car. You’re going to get sick”

You pretended you didn't hear what he said and kept walking, face down – trying to escape both the rain and him. The first tear fell from your eyes. For the first time in days, you were grateful for the rain, because you could pretend it was just water and not a visual representation of your broken heart on your cheeks.

Seokmin stopped the car right there, in the middle of the street. He didn't care if someone was standing behind him honking like crazy — something that was bound to happen.

When he left your apartment that day he felt like he was 22 again, but this time he was the one leaving.

Hearing that you loved him was everything he had wanted, but the timing was strangely right and wrong, both at the same time.

Both of you screamed, shouted, and said what you wanted to say — or at least part of what you wanted to say. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, at the same time a new one was placed on it.

After you fell asleep in his arms, the only thing Seokmin could think about were the letters scattered across the living room floor. There were so many. He couldn't believe you had spent all those years writing letters to him.

He needed to read them all. He would have done it in the living room, but he didn't know what awaited him, so he collected them all from the floor and a few more that had been left in the box and left.

He read the first one in the car, he couldn't wait until he got home.

Seokmin cried right there, the same way he cried when you left. Inconsolable. His heart broke and healed in equal measure with every word of yours he read.

Seokmin always believed that you left like that, without a single word, because you didn't like him that much, because you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Not that he thought the entire relationship had been a lie, but he thought that somehow the love had ended. It happened to everyone, the probability of it happening to him was also high.

The truth could not be different. There wasn't a letter in which you didn't say you loved him, not always in those words, but he knew you well enough to know that was what you said.

After reading all the letters, Seokmin called Joshua. He cried on the phone with his friend and then once again when he showed up at his place with bad beer and takeout food. “Since we’re going to talk about our college days, I think we should do the same thing we did back then” was all he said.

Seokmin was on his way to you when he saw you walking without an umbrella. He wanted to talk to you, to know if even after so long you still wanted to try with him one more time. It was better to try than to always wonder what could have been.

“I read your letters!” he shouted louder than the rain.

His words were enough to make you stop walking, but you still didn't turn to face him. It was too hard to breathe. Your chest rose and fell irregularly each time you tried to pull the air in.

You knew Seokmin had taken the letters. Part of you knew he would read them, but the last thing you expected was for him to want to talk about them.

“I know” you said when he approached “I saw they were gone, and you were the only person who came by”

“Do you know why I accepted to host a love advice show? Besides it being something I've always wanted, of course” he didn't give you time to answer “Because a part of me wanted you to listen, to know that I was okay, even if it was a lie. I thought that if I talked about it on a show that had used the nickname you gave me, you’d regret it. I thought that I should make you regret it because it was the only way I could still think about you without looking like a fool after so long. I thought you didn’t care, that you had left because you didn’t like me anymore, so making you regret your decision was the only option I had”

You shook your head. It wasn't true, not by a long shot.

“I'm sorry” you said softly “I should have told you what I was doing, that I had applied for the and got in. I thought it was my only option. It was so stupid. I was so stupid”

Seokmin laughed a little, fingers running under your eyes. A second later he pressed his lips over yours.

“I know, I read your letters”

Seokmin,

It's been a good few years since I wrote you a letter. After a while, I didn't think I needed it anymore because I started saying everything I wanted, everything I felt, looking at you. Of course, this new arrangement has its demerits, as the paper and pen don't look at me like a lost puppy. But paper and pen don't kiss me either, so it has its bonus.

I thought when I came home four years ago, I would never see you again. I thought you would just be the guy who has a radio show that I would listen to every now and then. I didn't expect to see you my first week back and again and, well, again.

As you probably know, I've never been a big fan of rainy days. I always preferred sunny days because those were the days I woke up ready to face the world. I felt better overall. But also because they reminded me of you. You know, when the sun appears after gray days? For me, you were always like that. Grand and brilliant.

But after that day, I started to like rainy days too because they started to be full of the two of us. Rain was no longer synonymous of an unproductive day, but rather of the memory of our fresh start.

You know this, we've talked about it a few times, but I spent a few months waiting for it to sink in. Sort of expecting that one day I would wake up and it would all be a dream. It was hard for both of us, I know. It was seven years of hurt and resentment and we had to navigate this uncertain sea without a map. Nobody teaches you how to do this, believe me, I looked. I found countless books on how to start dating, how to save a relationship, and how to get over a relationship. The problem is that none of them teach you how to rekindle a relationship after seven years apart, but during those seven years one of the parties wrote letters and the other had a program just to mourn the sorrows of the relationship.

I've read several, so you can trust what I say on this.

It really wasn't easy, but I think we came out better, stronger, in some way.

I love you and I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Our forever begins today, in a little while. So stop crying, put ice on your eyes to help the swelling go down, and go to the aisle because I miss you already.

I love you.

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @mayashu, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @slut4donghyuck, @shuabby1994, @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan, @plumings, @shuasdrafts, @aaasia111, @bouclesdefeu

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

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blue-sadie · 10 months

Note

can I request avatar with a reader who is hard of seeing and needs a seeing the animal and they all freak out because reader somehow managed to find with a rather large group of viperwolves?

I hope this is what you were looking for, I made it platonic to make it more cute but I'll do a romantic one if this isn't what you were looking for.

The Blurriness

Sully family x blind Reader

Summary: the baby of the family is always protected

Warning: kinda yandere?

Yn/3rd person pov

You were the baby the little princess everyone adored even though you weren't the youngest, neytiri knew something was different when she was pregnant with you, she felt it.

They didn't figure it out straight away, neytiri was scared at first not knowing what is wrong with her child so she did everything in her power to figure it out, even your siblings knew something was wrong so they did everything to protect you but still include you in everything they did.

Norman was the first one to ask them because he watched as you would have your hands on everything and feeling along as you moved, when someone called you you would twist and turn looking for them intill they came closer to you.

Jake and neytiri refused at first but as they watched you more they saw it to and then their feelings of protectiveness increased they would tell your siblings not to take you to the cliffs or on trees because they were scared you'd get hurt, they'd also forbid you going off by yourself because they don't think you'd find your way back.

I listened to my mom hum as she prepared food I could feel her gaze on me every so often from my perch on a few of the boxes that layed around our home "is something the matter" she asked I could see her blurry form move around the small fire the shadow of it darkening my vision.

"Nothing everything is fine" I murmured closing my eyes and leaned my head back against the woven wall "are you excited for your outing with neteyam today" she said and I could hear her footsteps getting closer "yeah I am" I smiled it's been a few weeks since I've been down in the forest.

"Where's my baby sister" I cringed as I heard neteyam call me my nickname "logically tuk is the baby" I mumbled as mom grabbed my hand helping me to my feet "you'll always be a baby to me" he teased and took my hand from mom and slowly lead me out the tent.

He helped me onto his ikran and flew the both of us down to the ground "so how's trainings" I inquired as I slid off his ikran with him right behind me "it's.... challenging" he sighed taking my hand and leading me off into the forest the blurry colors of purple, blue and orange filling my gaze it made me smile.

"Oh I'm sorry" I whispered lightly squeezing his hand in a comforting manner "I'm here for you if you need me" I added making him chuckle "I know you are it's what siblings are for" I could hear the smile as he talked, we fell into a calm silence the ambiance of the forest taking over.

He took us to our normal spot which was by the glowing waterfalls, he sat me on the ground just far enough for my feet to reach the water "I just need to get some stuff for mom stay here and don't move" his voice became a bit stern as he spoke he always said this when we were out.

"Where am I supposed to go" I teased gesturing my hands around me "I can't see anything" he laughed at my words "you know what I mean" he called out as he walked away, I started to hum to myself enjoying the forest air as I waited, neteyam usually took about 3 to 6 minutes but if longer he would come check on me every now and then.

"Neteyam" I called out after hearing a few twigs creak but I knew I was wrong when I heard the chitering of the viper wolf's, I looked around furiously seeing a view black sploges move across my vision my breathing hitching as I felt the wind of one of them moving behind me.

My stomach dropped as I waited for an attack or anything but nothing came I could still hear them moving around me but they weren't attacking my eyebrows frowned in confusion what's wrong with them, I jerked as I felt their cold skin brush against mine as they walked past, my body sat frozen and the only noise I made was my soft breathes I need to stay calm.

They circled around a few times "yeah" neteyam yelled charging from the woods, I could hear the viper wolf's scatter as he ran toward me their chitering fading as they ran into the woods "what the hell was that" he asked breathlessly and I just shrugged, he quickly pulled me to my feet and back to his ikran "I'm gonna get killed" he muttered climbing on.

"What happened" my dad asked as neteyam told him and mom the story I could feel their protectiveness radiating off of them "oh my poor baby" mom cooed as she came to sit at my side pulling my body into her and kissing my forehead.

"I'm not letting you outside again"

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar pandora #avatar way of water #avatar x reader fluff #avatar fluff #sully family #sully family x reader #sully family platonic #sully family x reader fluff #sully family x sibling reader #sully family x sibling reader fluff

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luxaofhesperides · 7 months

Note

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time.

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash.

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes.

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful.

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on.

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay.

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue.

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases.

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud.

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him. He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it.

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast.

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows.

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest.

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled.

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice.

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk.

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human.

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave.

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep.

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety.

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny.

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist.

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow.

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest.

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep.

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy.

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him.

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

#ghostlights #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #prompt fill #my writing #i thought up a whole backstory to the duke/dash kiss (accidental. embarrassing for both parties) but it didnt fit w the rest of the fic so #its not included. i can include it in a rb if u want tho!!#my sleepy boys..... they go thru so much but at the end of the day they always feel at home with each other #childhood friends duke/danny is so important to me #also couldnt think of a coded phrase sorry. now we just have dash walking up to duke like HEY. HELP DANNY. and duke went with it #thanks for the prompt!!

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carmenized-onions · 4 months

Text

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug. They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x female reader #carmen berzatto x oc #carmy the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear x reader #the bear

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strawhbrrries · 1 year

Text

Dirty, Greedy, Girl.

pairing: dbf!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: you need a place to stay and you find comfort in Frank’s bed (underneath him).

warnings: implied age gap, pet names, light tapping (he taps her once in the cheek before soothing it) mutual masturbation (diff rooms), blowjob, unprotected p in v, spit, cum eating, porn with plot basically, no use of y/n, not proofread

word count: 2560 words

author’s note: this was supposed to be inspired by granite by sleep token but i accidentally lost sight of that like halfway through, stream take me back to eden anyway! as always, i hope this lives up to standards and you enjoy it. mwah!

Frank laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about you. The girl laying two rooms away. You’d consumed his thoughts, his being, and you didn’t even know it. You just needed a place to stay while yours was being renovated, he’d offered in an attempt to be nice and not leave you with a sleazebag you didn’t know. You’d called him early one morning, not giving him another option.

“Frank..” Your voice was quiet and shaky.

“Yeah? What’s up?” His voice was rough, it was evident you had just woken him up. Your phone said it was three am.

“My apartment has a gas leak, I got evacuated..”

“Call your dad.” He groaned in response, ready to roll over and go back to sleep, annoyance evident.

“I can’t, he’s at work or busy or something. Please, Frank..” You pleaded, standing in the cold outside your building in nothing but a ridiculously oversized shirt. It reached the top of your thighs, of course tonight of all nights you wouldn’t wear shorts to bed, the wind threatening to expose you to your neighbors every time it blew.

Frank mumbled something about being on his way and left you standing there, praying to the heavens he’d show up soon. He did. His breath hitching slightly when he laid eyes on you. Messy hair from sleeping, shirt short enough if he leaned over a bit he was sure he’d see your panties, mismatched socks. Your face lit up when you saw him walking over, instantly turning red when he took off the leather jacket he was wearing and handed it to you.

“C’mon little lady, lets get going before any of these fucking weirdos oogle at you anymore.” He looked around at the men who supposedly live in the same building as you, the stares they gave you were borderline degrading. It annoyed him, as if he hadn’t done the same thing before walking over to you. He was different, he knew you.

“Thanks, Frank.” You spoke quietly, walking in the direction of his truck, giving him a small smile as you put the jacket on. It was warm. Smelled like him.

Frank had shown you his guest bedroom, showed you had to turn the shower on and where extra towels were, and left you to go back to bed. So he thought. The second his head hit the pillow he heard the sound of the shower turning on. His thoughts soon filled you as he laid there, listening to the water run through the pipes, staring at the ceiling. Thought of the water rolling down your soft supple skin. Thoughts of you lathering yourself with soap. Thoughts of how’d you smell like him when you got out. Thoughts of you.

You turned on the shower just as he showed you, temporarily forgetting as you were just staring at his hands the entire time he demonstrated how to do it. He’d lent you one of his shirts to change into, not that you had asked but you appreciated. It was longer than the one you had on. While you waited on the water to warm up you thought of Frank, of what he was doing. Did he go back to sleep? Was he thinking of you? You stepped out of your clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the sink, and into the shower as steam filled the room. The warm water running over your body, chasing away the cold chills brought by the wind.

He was doing everything to try and get you off his mind, to get his cock to go down. He was harder than ever before. Red from the lack of attention, the tip leaking precum and creating a small circular stain on his boxers. For a brief moment he contemplated joining you in the shower, thought of all the ways you’d respond to him barging in. Ultimately, he decided against it. He wanted you to come to him, to cross the invisible line you both knew was there. He needed you to come to him first, confess that you needed him more than he needed you. That you’d thought of him in the same dirty ways he was thinking of you.

You thought of Frank, thought of how kind he was to let you stay here and how you could ever repay him. Thought of his rugged features as your hand traveled south, a single finger sliding between your folds. Relieving some of the tension that had built up at the sound of his half-awake voice over the phone, only building up more when he’d shown up and ordered you around in the leather jacket before handing it to you. You let the finger slide inside you, the size nowhere near how big you imagined Frank’s to be, thrusting it slowly as you brought your other hand to rub rhythmic circles on your clit. Your eyes squeezed closed, imagining it was his hand instead of yours. Imagining that he was right behind you, asking you how exactly you needed it.

Frank had given in to his thoughts, pulled his cock out of his boxers and wrapped his fist around it. He ran his thumb over the slit, spreading his precum around the head. Groaning he leaned his head back further into the pillows, stroking slowly as your pretty face came to his mind. His mind thinking of painting your face with his cum. He imagined his big rough calloused hand was your smaller soft one. Thought about your lips and how pretty they were, how much prettier they’d be wrapped around his cock. Thought of how your tongue would feel as it licked a stripe up the shaft, giving kitten licks to his tip before taking his cock as deep as you could. He came over his hand, groaning lowly as it dripped down the side.

You came quietly around your fingers, the sound of the showering muffling any noises that slipped past your lips. The dirtiness of masturbating in his bathroom making it all that much better. You finished up your shower, exiting the bathroom at the same time that Frak was making his way back to his room.

“The shower was really nice, thank you.” You whispered, unable to make eye contact with the man you just orgasmed to. Your cheeks flushing red at his lack of shirt, his chest defined, you wanted to rub your hands all over the skin, trace his scars.

“You don’t have to stare, you can touch.” He softly took one of your hands and placed it on your chest, waiting for a reaction. For anything.

His skin was soft, the muscle underneath rock hard. Just like his cock was about to be if you continued to act so innocently about touching him.

“Say something, don’t act like you weren’t in there touching your pretty pussy to the thought of me. What’s got you so quiet now, huh?” His voice was low, and rough, and right in your ear.

“How did you know…I was quiet..” You questioned, looking up at him, confusion written all over your pretty face.

“You wouldn’t look at me and you’re not as quiet as you think, pretty girl.” He titled your head up further with his pointer finger, running his thumb over your bottom lip before dipping it inside your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. A chuckle coming out at the spit that pooled around his thumb. “The water only muffles so much.”

“I want you.” You spoke confidently around his thumb, your words coming out slightly slurred.

“You want me? I’m not what you need.” He responded with another chuckle, removing his thumb from your mouth and rubbing the extra spit on your cheek. “Dirty dirty girl.”

“Wants and needs are different. I know what I want.” You moved closer to him, the hallway seeming much smaller than before. “I want to be beneath you. Treat me like a dirty girl.”

“Did you call me to come get you just so you could get in my bed? Get underneath me? Huh?” He closed any remaining distance between the two of you, gripping your cheeks with one hand and squishing them just slightly. “If you needed to be treated dirty, you coulda said that over the phone, baby doll.”

You whimpered at his words, rubbing your thighs together as the warmth flooded your core.

“Knees.”

You fell to your knees, just as he ordered. He looked down at you, giving a light tap to your cheek before soothing it with his hand, the corners of his mouth turning into some sort of smile. His thumb found its way back into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and releasing the pressure multiple times. He was just playing with your tongue as he gathered enough spit in his mouth to spit into yours, he tapped your cheek twice before letting the spit fall. It landed mostly in your mouth, impressive given the distance between his mouth and yours.

“You wanna suck my cock, dirty girl?” He asked, not satisfied with your head shaking yes as an answer. “Beg for it, use your words.”

“Please, Frank. Wanna suck your cock, want it in my mouth.” You begged, seemingly enough to satisfy him.

He, once again, pulled his cock out of his boxers and tapped it against your cheek. Letting the precum that had built up again slide across your cheek, in some dirty claim on you. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, so large and ready to be sucked.

“Open.”

And you did just that. You opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, it was a lewd sight and Frank wished he could take a picture of you like this. Mouth open, kneeling on the ground, begging for his cock. He tapped it against your tongue a few times, rubbing it in the spit you just seemed to be collecting in there.

“Such a dirty girl, kneelin’ on my floor beggin’ for my cock.” He teased, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth and pulling it back out. “Gonna let me use you?”

You shook your head yes as best as you could. The pain in your knees from the hardwood already becoming a problem, you didn’t mind as long as he kept putting his cock in your mouth and talking to you like that.

“Wish you could see how pretty you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He commented, sliding his cock as far into your throat as he could without pushing on your head.

He did this a few times, pushed in and pulled back out, only going far enough for you to gag once or twice. Letting out a groan from the back of his throat every time he did. He watched the drool sliding out of your mouth as he fucked it, chuckling at how little he had used your mouth but how much you were enjoying it.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, okay? Tap me twice if it’s too much.” He warned, making sure you acknowledged his words before putting his entire cock into your mouth.

He stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying the warmth and the tightness of it all, it was also giving you a chance to breathe and prepare yourself. Frank slowly started to thrust in and out of you mouth, putting one of his hands on the back of your head and bobbing it on his cock. He wrapped your hair in a makeshift ponytail around his hand, giving him better leverage to use you. He gave a few hard thrusts and used you just like he said, fast and rough. Dirty, just how you wanted it. More of your drool escaping your mouth, a puddle was probably slowly forming on the floor.

“So dirty, lettin’ an old man like me fuck your mouth.” You both moaned at his words, your moan vibrating around him. “Oh fuck.”

And with that he came down your throat, stabilizing himself against the wall as he came, with his head thrown back. He smiled down at you as he came to, tucking himself back in his boxers and helping you up off the floor. Without exchanging any words he led you into his room, laying you down on his bed and lifting up the shirt he gave you with one finger, groaning softly at your lack of underwear.

He swiped a finger between your folds, just as you had done to yourself earlier, swirling it around your entrance before bringing his finger to his mouth and licking it clean. He lifted the shirt enough to see your boobs, bringing one to his mouth and swirling his tongue around your nipple. He nipped at it slightly, smiling when you whined in response.

“Frank please, need you inside of me.” You whined again, pouting up at him in a desperate plea to get him to hurry up and stop teasing you.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, removed his boxers and threw them somewhere else. He dragged the tip up your folds, gathering the wetness before slowly pushing inside of you. A strangled moan left your throat as he did so, the stretch of his cock hurting so good. He was so big, you weren’t sure how it all fit in your mouth and you definitely didn’t know how it was all fitting up inside you. With one hard thrust he bottomed out, giving you just a few seconds to adjust before he started fucking you.

His thrusts were hard and deep, slow when he pulled out so he could admire the mess you were making on his cock. The sounds you were making on spurring him on, he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through. That asshole.

“Faster, please..”

“Need it faster? Is this not enough for your greedy cunt? Greedy girl.” He punctuated his sentence with an exceptionally hard thrust, you whimpered in response.

You wrapped a hand around his bicep, whimpering once again at how big it is, holding onto him as he sped up his thrusts. Your orgasm was building slowly, between his thrusts and the grunts he was letting go in your ear you were a goner. He kept the pace that seemed to satisfy you, rolling one of your nipples between his fingers, smiling as he did so. The warmth in your belly was building much more rapidly, Frank could sense it too. Your eyes had glossed over, mouth hung open and the sounds coming out much more airy than before.

“C’mon greedy girl, let it go. Let me see you fall apart.” He whispered into your ear, bringing the fingers that were previously on your nipple to your clit and rubbing circles in perfect time with his thrusts.

It was all too much, his fingers, his words, his smell. You fell apart on his cock, writhing underneath him like you begged to do earlier. He fucked you all the way through your orgasm, slowing down slightly as he approached his. With one last low groan in your ear he pulled out and came on your stomach, swirling it around a bit with one finger before bringing it to your mouth and watching you lick it clean.

“God, you’re gonna make me hard again.”

#maddies fics #dbf frank castle #frank castle #jon bernthal #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #dads best friend #dads best friend frank castle #jon bernthal smut #daredevil smut #punisher smut #the punisher #daredevil

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doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months

Text

Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

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You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you.

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted.

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you.

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother.

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar.

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.”

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned.

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes.

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned.

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

You went silent again.

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with.

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups?

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him.

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you.

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean.

“Come on!” Dean urged you.

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered.

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked.

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?”

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you.

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man.

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture.

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed.

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh.

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!”

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention.

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up.

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s.

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly.

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently.

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her.

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded.

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it.

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.”

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates.

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered.

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow.

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse.

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body.

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body.

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it.

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again.

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison.

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door.

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case.

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said.

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling.

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply.

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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whiskeyghoul · 3 months

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Hi can you please write a Hotchner x reader

Reader and Hotchner are married and reader is extremely pregnant. It’s kinda like season 1 episode 22 where hotch sends Elle home but instead it's the reader. And similar events take place, except the reader is kidnapped instead of shot. And it’s a quest to find and save her.

Stay safe, be smart || [Aaron Hotchner x Pregnant!Reader]

A/N: Thank you for the request! This will be a little break between the new sbmws update, since it is taking a bit longer to flesh out. It sounded super interesting and high stakes to me so I hope you enjoy it. It was interesting to write something a lot more case based than what I am used to writing. So if anyone has any more requests please let me know!

WC: 3.3K

Tags: Angst, violence, pregnancy, aaron x reader, pregnant reader, 18+ case mentions, implied violence, death and murder, fluff at the end I suppose.

Warnings: Case details, violence against pregnant women (no real violence described but implied), death, murder, general criminal minds content.

Aaron’s pov

The sun was beating down on the team as Aaron stepped out of the SUV. It was sweltering in the Phoenix heat. He opened the passenger door, helping you out of the vehicle. Married just a year, you were now pregnant and nearing your maternity leave date. “Thank you.” Your voice was honey sweet to him. Your hand in his before you took it to rest on your belly. He’d felt protective over you for weeks now. Afraid something would happen to you, or the precious little being growing inside of you. He’d asked you every week to take early leave, yet you, stubborn as ever, never agreed. Now he just tried to keep you safe in the field, and when he could put you on office duties.

This case was going to be a hard one.

Greeted by the local police, they led the team to the site where the last body was found. Opening the door of the shed made a wall of smell slam into his face. The crime scene was anything but pretty, with the weather the decomposition had set on quickly, leaving the non air conditioned shed they walked into one of the worst smelling scenes they had been to in a while. He knew it was bad when he had seen the picture, it was even worse in real life. When he heard you enter behind him it was only a moment before you bolted back out the door. “I’ll be right back.” Aaron said to the team before following you outside.

He knew what he would find, but still it pulled at his heart to see you hunched over, emptying your breakfast in a bush just a few feet away from the scene. Your nose had been extremely sensitive the past few weeks, he’d felt bad every time you mentioned just feeling nauseous from the smell of certain things. Jack’s soccer shoes for one, had been banished to the garage. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked, walking over to gently rub your back as you heaved a sigh. Standing back up to full height once you felt confident enough that there wouldn’t be any more upchucking. “The smell, Aaron, it’s horrible.” You wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “I know.” he offered an apologetic smile as he pulled you into a side hug. Pressing his lips chastely against your temple. “There’s a bottle of water in the SUV, I think you might need to sit this one out.” He tried to make his voice soothing, placating. He didn’t want you to protest against it.

“I can sit in the SUV, wait until we get back to the precinct and then work from there?” You said it like a question. Though it was clear you would rather be in the field, that was your place. Aaron nodded his head yes, “That sounds like a smart plan. We’ll get back as soon as possible.” He fished the keys to the SUV out of his pocket, handing them to you with a small, comforting smile. You took them, lips pressed in a thin line, nodding your head before taking off. Aaron walked back to the shed, ready to face the crime scene and finish up as quickly as possible.

The body was that of a woman, the third one in three weeks. Exactly a week apart, the unsub was consistent to say the least. The previous bodies had been thoroughly inspected, Aaron had no doubt they would find similar evidence on this woman. The previous bodies had been raped, but there was no semen left behind. The wounds were a near exact match, in the type, deep slashes on the limbs. Worst of all was the deep, surgical cut mirroring that of a C section. Each victim had been pregnant, the infants bodies were found close to the mother. He knew it was a tough case, emotionally it was going to be worse with you close. The idea of sending you home nestling in the back of his mind. Just in case. To be safe. But he also knew you would never agree. Which was still hard to accept. When they got to the precinct Aaron put you on geographical profile duty together with Spencer. There you would be alright.

“Can’t I go help interview the family?” You spoke up, the rest of the team looked at you. Usually you had just accepted the task handed to you. Aaron looked up from the papers he had just gone to reorganize. “Are you not satisfied with your task, Y/N?” he quirked a brow, looking at you he noticed the shift in your body language. Something in you was determined to get out of the precinct and ‘be more useful’ as you would put it. “I just think that Reid does not need my help on the geographical profile. He’s perfectly capable of doing it himself. Like he has done the cases before.” You crossed your arms. Resting them on the protruding belly, with an arched brow that conveyed an air of annoyance. Aaron sighed, he didn’t want to let up, but you did have a point. Reid had managed fine on his own for the last few cases. “Fine, you can go with JJ to interview the families. But only for the interviews. Stay safe.” He gave in. His lips pressed into a thin line. He really didn’t want to play favorites. Yet he relented so easily at times like these. Your small triumphant smile was barely there but he got a glimpse of it before you turned to the door, leaving him alone to ponder why he even said yes.

“I thought I told you only the interviews!” Aaron had to take a deep breath, calm down, but his blood was rushing in his veins. If something happened to you, well, he wouldn’t forgive himself. You sat in the back of an ambulance, getting your wounds tended to. He had gotten to the scene as quickly as possible, racing from the precinct to the home of the family. “Thanks to me we have a suspect in custody.” You retorted, wincing as you moved your arms. There was a deep cut that looked to be made with glass, scrapes on your knees that tore straight through the pants. “You could have ruined the entire case. We don’t know if this is the unsub. We didn’t even have a profile yet.” he continued to scold. When he heard you had attacked a man, who was lingering around the house of the family, he knew he had made the wrong choice in letting you go. “He was stalking them! Clearly a sign of a killer checking up on the devastation he has caused.” you raised your voice. A certain mix of anger and panic mingling in the sound of it.

Aaron sighed, pinching his furrowed brow, you had gotten hurt. “Go to the hotel. You are off the case.” his voice sounded cold to him. It must have sounded even colder to you. “W-what?” You stumbled over the word. He looked back at you, to see your jaw slack, eyes wide in confusion. “You are off the case. I can’t have an agent running around and attacking anyone with no probable cause. We need evidence, not intuition.” He explained. You closed your mouth. A deep swallow as you nodded your head. He could see your jaw tick, holding back from saying anything. “I’m sorry… I’ll see you for dinner.” He whispered but you looked away, eyes cast to the ground as though looking at him would hurt. He felt a tug at his heart. It was for the best. You would be safe in the hotel. He made a mental note to bring your favorite food to make it up to you.

Your pov.

Aaron was right. You had been reckless, even more so than usual. Now you were just reaping what you sowed. The wound on your arm stung, so did your knees. Everything had been cleaned with alcohol and bandaged up nicely by the medics on scene. JJ had stayed with you and drove you back down to the hotel, but you didn’t feel like going inside just yet. Being stuck in a stuffy room with just your thoughts didn’t sound that appealing. And you probably wouldn’t be able to nap. The little one in your belly was using your lungs as their own personal punching bag.

There was a park nearby the hotel, and a stroll in the slowly cooling late afternoon sounded nice. So you had changed into a flowy skirt, since you wouldn’t be doing any running after unsubs anymore. The pants you were wearing were delegated to the trashcan in your hotel room. The afternoon air was still incredibly hot but more bearable compared to earlier in the day. The park was spacious, you walked towards the playground where laughter sounded out from the multiple young children running around. Soon you’d have one of your own children begging you to play tag, going down the slide with them. You smiled to yourself, placing your hand on your belly again, absentmindedly stroking it in a comforting motion.

You watched for a while, though an unsettling feeling crept up the back of your spine. The hairs on your neck began to stand on end. Having a look around to see if anything suspicious was happening. Maybe you were over reacting. Overly sensitive due to hormones and the entire proceedings of the day. This is what got you kicked off the case. Scolding yourself internally for letting this feeling take over. You left the park, maybe it would be better to stay at the hotel. At Least you won’t get the impending feeling of dread there.

“‘scuse me miss.” A voice said, you looked up to see a man approaching you. Your guard immediately went up. “Can I help you?” You asked, trying to quell the thoughts of mistrust. “Just wanted to ask if you knew the way to the art museum.” He seemed innocent enough. Dark black hair, a clean shave, nice white blouse with no stains. No clear markers that would need you to be on guard. “I’m sorry, I am just here for the week. I don’t know.” You said honestly, though internally cursing yourself for revealing you were not native to the area. A stupid mistake, though it wouldn’t matter if there was nothing to fear. “Ah alright, thanks anyways.” He flashed a charming smile before taking a few steps to walk past.

You let out a soft sigh. See. No reason to be so nervous. You scolded yourself internally. Taking a few steps back in the direction of the hotel before you felt a pinch in your neck, a hand clasped over your mouth and everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes it was still dark, slowly adjusting to the surroundings. Your hands were tied down to a bed, along with our legs and straps around your torso. Neck incredibly stiff from whatever happened. Lights turned on, blinding you, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden influx of bright, white light. “You’re probably wondering where you are right now.” A voice called out from over speakers. Training kicked in, knowing it wasn’t smart to engage the unsub in any way like this. They want a reaction, something that allows them to relish in the fear they have created. Biting your tongue you stayed quiet.

“Well, it doesn’t matter where you are. Because you won’t leave.”

Aaron’s pov

When Aaron entered the hotel room the lights were off. He noticed just how silent it was. Usually you would be tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable when taking a nap. But it was still early. He walked in quietly, trying to not disturb you if you had finally managed to get some well deserved rest. He felt horrible for kicking you off the case, but it was the smartest thing for him to do. The bag of take out rustled in his hand when he put it on the small desk pressed against the wall. Turning to look at the bed, it was still pristinely made, no sign of you. The only sign that you had been there was the pair of pants that laid in the garbage can.

His blood ran cold. There could be a simple explanation. You went out for a walk. Or down to the lobby for some tea. He quickly took his phone out of his pocket. Hoping that you wouldn’t be too angry to pick up. Dialing your contact, it rang once before immediately heading to voicemail. Your chipper voice saying your name on the other end of the line did nothing to calm his increasingly quickly beating heart. He called again. Same thing. His hands began to feel just a little clammy. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Please text me.’ ‘Are you okay?’ All his text messages arrived but weren’t opened.

He dialed JJ’s number. Who picked up almost instantly. “You went to the hotel with y/n, right?” He asked, his voice strained. “Yes, I watched her walk inside.” JJ sounded a little confused, he could almost hear the frown in her voice. “She’s not here. I can’t reach her, and she never turns off her phone.” He sighed. “I’ll meet you in the lobby. I’ll try and call her.” She suggested it before hanging up the phone. Aaron left the room, leaving the take out behind to grow cold in favor of looking for you.

When he reached the lobby not only was JJ there, she had apparently informed the rest of the team. All sitting in the leather chairs around a short table. “I can’t reach her either.” JJ spoke up as soon as she saw him. “We’ve all been trying.” Spencer chimed in. His eyes held a certain fear. It was the least comforting feeling knowing that no one on the team could reach you. “She is the unsub’s type. We have to assume that they got her, and we need to be quick.” Aaron’s voice didn’t sound like his own to him. Having to take a certain distance away from the personal part of what was happening. He didn’t want to assume the worst, but he knew he had to. They had a profile and a geographical one too, atleast. A male, who likely lost his wife or girlfriend during childbirth, along with the child. Looking for a replacement, and when the baby doesn’t look like the one he lost, he gets rid of it. A harrowing thought.

“Alright, I will call Garcia to trace her phone. Maybe we can see where it last pinged.” Derek voiced. A smart idea. Aaron couldn’t really think, his mind reeling with things that could have happened to you. “Thank you.” He said and nodded his head. “Prentiss, Rossi, could you canvas the area of overlap in the geographical profile? Take Reid if you must. We know they take the victims to a secondary location, look for something isolated, something that won’t be noticed.” He added, looking at the three agents. “JJ, could you talk with the precinct? Get the police out on the street, looking for signs of y/n or foul play.” JJ nodded her head in return. “Alright, any information you call me, let's go.” Aaron nodded his own head, trying to instill some form of confidence in himself. It was hard.

Aaron kept tabs on everything as minutes ticked by, they seemed like hours. Penelope called with the last ping of your phone, apparently when he had first called it still pinged before it was turned off. Perhaps the unsub scrambling after making a mistake. You did keep your phone in an unusual place just in case. He remembered when he first saw you put your phone in the side of your boot, a strange habit he quickly began to find endearing. Derek, JJ, and himself got into one of the SUV’s as they got the information. JJ went to call Emily to meet them at the last ping place. An ambulance was called for backup, along with some of the agents from the precinct.

As they raced down a dusty road out of the city, the fear began to take over again. With what happened with Hailey, he couldn’t lose anyone else. He didn’t think that he would be able to bear that. His mind reeled with the idea of having to tell Jack what happened. Losing another mother figure, he didn’t know what damage that would do to him. And his unborn sibling. It would be his worst nightmare. His jaw set, trying not to think the dark thoughts, wanting to remove them from his mind. You were going to be okay. They were going to find you alive and well.

When they spotted a dilapidated white van in the distance, next to a small barn he knew they were in the right spot. “Stop the car, we can’t let him know we’re here.” Aaron instructed, Derek slowed down, parking the car about 20 feet away, hoping the engines didn’t give them away. The second black SUV pulled up next to them. “First, the van, we need to check that no one is inside, then we go to the barn.” He instructed the agents. All geared up in their vests and checking their sidearms. They moved together to the van, no one seemed to be in the driver's seat. The back doors were unlocked and when they opened them Aaron’s stomach dropped. Screens lined one wall, with a computer set up rivaling that of their tech analyst. 2 screens, still lit up with a live camera feed. Two different angles that showed you, tied to a bed, a gag in your mouth. A figure standing over you, dressed in surgical gowns. This was all being recorded.

He stormed out the van, taking the gun from his holster and getting it ready. He walked over to the barn door, the unsub was stupid enough to not lock anything. Maybe it was arrogance. But it made his work a lot easier. He nodded towards Derek, who kicked the door in. “Hands up, drop the knife.” Aaron called as he raised his gun, walking into the barn. The man looked up from you, having a big knife in hand he froze. Looking down for a quick second in contemplation. “Whatever you are thinking of doing, don’t. You are surrounded, either step away from her and put the knife down or face the consequences.” He could feel the blood rushing through his ears, anger and fear colliding inside of him. What he wanted to do was shoot him, punish him for hurting you. But he knew that wouldn’t be the intelligent thing to do. The man stepped away, reluctantly, and from a few feet away he dropped the knife.

Aaron walked over to you, quick strides as he holstered his gun. His hands were shaking as he reached you. Looking at the small cuts on your arms. The wound from earlier that day reopened. He ungagged you, watching as tears started to spill from your eyes, hearing repeated apologies fall from your lips. “Shh… no, I’m sorry. I was so worried. I’m sorry.” He shushed, petting your hair, letting the soft locks slip between his fingers. He quickly worked to unbuckle your limbs and body from the bed. As soon as he could he picked you up, holding you close. As if he could still lose you if he didn’t. “I shouldn’t have sent you away. I’m sorry. I got you now.” He mumbled, his hands holding you tightly as he felt your unregulated breathing against his neck. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should have just thought.” You apologized and he shook his head.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re safe.” He picked you up, taking you to the ambulance and not leaving your side again.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #request #fic request #18+ fic #violence warning #criminal minds type violence #case mentions

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