#learn from my mistakes do not lean on your elbow when doing tasks you get lost in for hours. and use proper form when playing instruments

[wrackofflesh]

unreal levels of stupid as fuck that i suffered for years going through all sorts of different treatments and seeing all sorts of doctors about the pain in my arms being told all sorts of scary life ruining things like how i might need surgery or i probably have fibromyalgia which ruined my life for a good moment there i thought my life was over id never draw or play guitar again or id never be able to work, and it turns out i just have an extremely easy to treat pain disorder. ive been getting injections in my worse arm for a couple months so far and its crazy how much its improved. im just so pissed off at the medical system i feel like i was just being milked for money and they never looked deeper into what else could cause these problems they went from muscle strain to carpal tunnel to fibromyalgia. very awesome. anyways atleast my current doctor has been really nice and has helped me alot so lol

[docrobinavitch]

say goodbye like you mean it | pt. one

dr. robby x f!charge nurse!oc content: 18+ mdni, swearing, vague age gap (oc mid to late thirties) words: 4.5k PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR synopsis: dana is serious about leaving, at least for a while. her replacement is bright eyed, bushy tailed, and determined to impress robby and robby is less than thrilled... but can't help but be impressed. as well as a little infatuated. a/n: this is my first fic for the pitt! idk how many parts this will be yet, but pls let me know your thoughts

“And there’s nothing I can do to convince you that this is a mistake?” Dr. Robby was looking at Dana with the softest, pleading eyes he could muster.

But Dana only smiled and shook her head, “Would you give the kid a chance first? It’s only a trial and I’ll be here the first few days and train her, alright? I vetted her myself. She was charge nurse in her own ER in Manhattan. During Covid.” She added for emphasis.

“Huh, no shit.” Robby rubbed at his beard, “How old is she?”

Dana shrugged, “I’m not sure, somewhere in her thirties?” 

Just then, the doors of the ER opened and the new charge nurse walked in, securing her hair with a claw clip as she walked toward the hub.

“Here she comes,” Dana said and elbowed Robby in the side, “Be nice, please.”

“Sweetheart!” Dana said as she approached and a smile lit up her face. “Welcome, thank you for coming in.”

“Of course,” She said, looking around the already chaotic ER, “I’m eager to get my hands dirty.”

“There will be no shortage of that, I can assure you.” Robby interjected.

Finally, her eyes fell on him and her smile widened, “You must be Dr. Robby. Dana told me all about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name,” She held out a hand, “Gwen Keating.”

He took her outstretched hand in his, “Good to meet you too. Though, I don’t envy you, you have big shoes to fill,” He dropped her hand, “I’m still trying to convince Dana to stay.”

Dana glared at Robby, “I told you to behave.”

“Gwen” Robby continued, ignoring Dana, “Dana tells me you were charge nurse at a hospital in Manhattan during the pandemic. Which one?”

Her face falls marginally, “New York Presbyterian.” She says softly.

The words hit him in the chest, “My God,” He shakes his head, “You guys were basically ground zero. We learned how to use one ventilator to treat two patients from you.”

Gwen looks down at her hands which he notices are now pulling at cuticles around her nail bed, “Yeah.” She says eventually, “It was a fucking nightmare and we adapted as quickly as we could.” Then she winces, “Sorry. Shouldn’t curse on my first day.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Dana said, putting an arm around her shoulders, “The pandemic was a motherfucker for all of us.”

She gives Dana a sad smile and leans into her embrace. 

Robby hates that Dana is leaving. Hates it so much, in fact, he had thought about putting in his two weeks several times. But each time he had faltered. And now Gwen was here, by all accounts looking like a goddamn angel, and he thought maybe everything would be okay after all.

Robby and Dana give her the grand tour, introducing her to everyone. She’s quick to learn names and she takes diligent notes. Though she’s a trained nurse and not a doctor, Robby learns quickly that being charge nurse during covid had many doctors giving her a lot of leeway. 

“We were constantly short staffed with doctors and nurses getting sick,” She shrugged, “It wasn’t uncommon for a doctor to be on speaker phone, sick at home, walking me through an intubation or a chest tube. But don’t worry,” Gwen said quickly at the look of alarm on Robby’s face, “That part of my life is over. Thankfully.”

Before he can comment, a lower abdominal GSW is rolling in and the three of them are immediately gloving up, following the gurney into trauma three.

Robby calls for Collins and Whitaker who trailed behind.

Giving the case to Collins, his eyes focus on Gwen as she reads vitals, jumps in when needed, and delegates tasks to other nurses with ease as things get more tricky. She has tools and meds ready before Collins can even ask, already anticipating how she would want to treat.

When the patient is stable and headed to an OR, Gwen degloves and walkd back over to Robby, looking a bit smug.

“So, did I pass?” She asks. Dana is grinning at Robby from behind her back.

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

She smirks, “So you weren’t evaluating me?”

“The person you should be trying to impress is Dana, not me.”

She scoffs, “Please. Dana is already impressed. I know it’s your approval I need to work here.”

He turns his attention from Collins to Gwen, eyes rolling carefully over her face. He is impressed. Thoroughly. But he doesn’t want her to know that yet.

“Have you ever thought about going to med school?”

“Oh, bite your tongue!” Dana snaps, “We need more nurses, not doctors.”

She laughs, and turns back to Robby, “I did, yeah. Before covid.” Again, he notices the way her face falls just slightly at the recollection of the pandemic, “But I decided I like it better in the background. As charge nurse, especially, I like all the admin work. I love working with patients, but I love taking care of my nurses and doctors more, I think. Is that awful?”

Robby’s shaking his head, “No. That’s exactly what we need from a charge nurse. A mother hen, right Dana?”

Dana had her arms around Gwen’s shoulders again as she laughed, “Isn’t she just the best?”

Robby rolled his eyes and began to walk away, “You haven’t passed yet.” He called over his shoulder.

“What?”

“We’ll see if you survive to the end of the shift.”

She laughed, “I do love a challenge.”

“Good,” Robby called back, “Because I’m very difficult to impress.”

Mateo was standing next to Dana at the hub, both of them intently watching Gwen and Robby, “I gotta hand it to you, Dana,” Mateo said as he took a bite of a sandwich from the patient bin, “You’re good. Not only have you given Robby a perfect replacement, you’re also getting him laid.”

Mateo offered Dana a fist, which Dana bumped while smiling, “Robby should be kissing my feet in thanks.”

The rest of the shift flew by with little incident. Things ran smoothly with Gwen behind the wheel. She had questions for Dana every now and then, but she was a fast learner and by the fourth hour, Dana hardly needed to do anything. She had Dana’s respect, and so she had the nurses’ respect as well. The doctors? Well, they looked to Robby first and he hadn’t yet decided how he felt about her. Though, it was clear the two of them worked well together almost immediately. And it was very clear that they had become a team when the reports of ICE being in the area started rolling in.

“What are you hearing?” Robby walked up to the hub, a bunch of nurses were around the desk, around Gwen, their phones out and scrolling.

“Reports of ICE vans in the area,” She said, looking at her own phone, “Rumors they plan to stop here.”

Robby nodded, “What do you want to do?”

Both Gwen and Dana’s eyes snapped to Robby in surprise, “You’re asking me?” She said slowly.

“Yeah. Surely you went through this sort of thing in New York. What’s the protocol?”

She stared at him for only a moment before she jumped into action, “Nurses, everyone is on a patient until I say otherwise. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure ICE does not get in here, but if they do, being in a hospital means these people are protected by the law. If it comes to it, make sure the patients know that. They do not have to speak to the officers without a lawyer. They do not have to leave with ICE unless they have a warrant signed by a judge. If that is the case, I will confirm the legitimacy of the warrant. 

We do not leave a single patient unattended until we’re sure no one is coming. I know there are more patients than there are nurses, assign yourselves no more than three patients that you can cycle through every thirty seconds. No one unattended more than thirty seconds, unless a medical emergency dictates otherwise. I trust you all to make sure every patient is covered, make sure you’re communicating with each other. Doctors, if you notice a patient doesn’t have a nurse, let me know and I will assign them one. You can explain to the patients why you’re there if you like, but do not pressure anyone to reveal their citizenship status to you. It’s better we don’t know anyway. Is Ahmad around?”

“Present.” Ahmad strolls up to the hub, hands on his belt.

“Can security make sure every entrance to the ER has at least one man watching it? If ICE shows up, do not let them in, call me. I will come out to meet them.”

Ahmad looked to Robby who nodded, and then looked back to Gwen, “Roger,” he said and headed for the ambulance bay.

“Any questions?” She asked the medical professionals that encircled her, but she’s met with only silence.

“Alright everyone, you’ve got your marching orders,” Robby said, “Back to work.”

While a nurse caught Gwen in conversation, Robby watched her and Dana sidled up to him, “You know, the sky won’t fall if you admit you like her.”

Robby just glared at her before heading in the direction of Whitaker, who was flagging him down to a patient’s bed.

It was true, he was really starting to warm to Gwen. Sure, it had only been half a shift, but things in the ED moved quickly and everyone worked in close quarters which meant he didn’t need long at all to get a sense of someone. And she was the real deal, that much was clear.

It was only thirty minutes before Ahmad was paging Gwen that ICE was in the ambulance bay.

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

She spun to see Robby just behind her. She had gotten used to his proximity in the first half of the shift, in fact, she was beginning to find his constant presence comforting.

“Only if you want to,” She said slowly, “Well… Yes, actually, if you don’t mind. I find they respond better to male authority figures.”

“Okay,” He started following her towards the exit, “But you take lead?”

She nods, “Of course. Thank you.”

“Officers, I’m the charge nurse here, this is Dr. Robinavitch, our senior physician. How can we help you?”

There were three men in street clothes, the tallest one in front stepped forward, “We have a warrant for a patient here, we need to be allowed inside to take them.”

“Okay, I need to see some ID and the warrant before I can let you inside.”

“We have a warrant. Let us inside now and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I cannot let you inside without seeing the warrant myself first as well as some ID.”

The man made a big show of huffing and puffing before retrieving a warrant from his pocket. Gwen was conscious of Robby just behind her, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She let her shoulders drop remembering he was there. She had just met him, but felt already that she could trust him to have her back. It had been a long time since she had had that sort of rapport with a colleague, let alone a superior.

He handed the paper over and before she had time to read it, was already trying to shove past her.

“Excuse me—!” She scoffed and tried to shove him back, “Ahmad?”

Ahmad was immediately there, shoving the man back. “I gave you the warrant, let’s go!” The man snarled.

Gwen glared and took her time unfolding the piece of paper he gave her and scanning it. It took her only a moment to recognize it wasn’t a proper warrant, “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in with this. Please come back when you have a warrant signed by a judge.”

She turned to leave, ignoring the man’s calls behind her. She doesn’t see what happens next, but very quickly, Robby has put himself between her and the ICE officer.

“You touch my nurse.” He said lowly, dangerously, “And we’re going to have bigger issues. If you want access to our department, you need a warrant signed by a judge, that is the law. Not a piece of paper signed by one of your own. Until then, get off the property or we call the police.”

“Hey man,” The officer backed off almost immediately, “We don’t want any trouble.”

Gwen rolls her eyes and walks away, thoroughly annoyed, “Asshole.” She mumbles under her breath.

Soon, Robby is jogging to her side, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She says, “Did he lunge at me?”

He hesitates, “Yes, but Ahmad and I wouldn’t have let him touch you.”

She almost smirks, “Are you worried I’m going to get scared and bolt?”

“What?” He says quickly, too quickly, “No. No.” He said firmly, “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“Well, Dr. Robby, it’ll take a lot more than a disgruntled ICE officer to get me out of your ER.”

He smiles at her, for the first time, and it sends a flutter to her chest. He had such kind, warm eyes.

“I’ll just have to try harder then, I guess.”

She smirked as they both walked back into central, “Come on, don’t you know a lost cause when you see one?”

He smiles, but grows serious again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks quietly, “If you need a break or anything, I would encourage you to do so.”

Gwen shakes her head, “I’m sure you know the rate of assault on nurses?” He nodded, looking down at the ground, “Believe me when I say I’ve had much worse than an attempted hair pull. But I appreciate your concern, truly. It’s… not common in my experience for doctors to treat their nurses with the attention and care you do. To treat the nurses as equals. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” She squeezed his arm and headed back to the hub, announcing to everyone to resume care as normal.

“So,” Robby didn’t hear Collins until she was already next to him, “The new Dana’s pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Collins smirked and followed after Robby when he tried to walk away, “Come on, Robby. We’ve all been watching you flirt all shift. Just admit that you like her.”

He sits at his workspace and puts his glasses on, “Did Dana put you up to this?”

“She didn’t have to. It’s more and more obvious by the second.”

Robby sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “Don’t you have patients?”

Collins rolled her eyes, but walked away without another word. In her absence, Robby’s eyes seemed naturally drawn to Gwen. The phone was pressed to her ear, but with the chaos of the ER, he couldn’t hear who she was talking to or what she was saying. While on the phone, she directed some nurses and respiratory therapists looking for patients and supplies. It was uncanny to him how fast she came up to speed, but he supposed spending years in Manhattan would do that. Maybe his ER was a cake walk to her.

Beyond his fascination with Gwen’s professional capabilities, he would be lying if he said he didn’t find her unnervingly attractive. He knew Abbott would be egging him on if he were here, practically begging him to ask her out. If you don’t, I will. He could hear him say. And he couldn’t allow that. He would ask her out for a beer later, he decided. It wasn’t like him to move this fast, to acknowledge his feelings so quickly. More than likely she had someone waiting at home for her anyway. She would let him down gently, professionally, and then he could put this ridiculous pining behind him before it had a chance to really take root. It was genius, really.

Just three hours of the shift left before he could put it to rest.

***

7:17 PM

“Well.” Gwen was standing in front of Robby as he was finishing up charting, hands clasped behind her back and rocking on her heels like a little kid. He had been watching her, so he knew she had already done her rounds with the night shift charge nurse. She had sent Dana home an hour early, insisting she could handle it solo. Dana had given Robby the I told you so look before leaving.

“Well, what?” He asked, not looking up from his chart. 

“Are you impressed? Did I pass?”

He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. She was flushed and sweating a little from the exertion of the shift. Strands of hair had freed themselves from her claw clip and either stuck to her face or hung loosely around it. Robby thought he might be more attracted to her now than he was a few hours ago.

“You did good, but it’s a long way before I’m impressed.”

She shrugged, “That’s fine, I’m very patient.”

He smiled and rubbed at his beard, “Would you… want to grab a beer with me?”

She blinked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Here we go, Robby thought to himself and braced himself for the rejection.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

He frowned, “I never said that.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes him and he feels himself beginning to sweat under the weight of her gaze. He wanted her to get it over with, to rip the bandaid, to say no so he could go home and drink alone in front of the TV.

But she didn’t do that.

“Yeah, okay.” She said finally.

“Y-Yeah?” He asked, mostly to confirm that he had heard correctly, “No… significant other or family waiting for you at home?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “Nope. You?”

He couldn’t believe it. How was it that she was all alone? “Not a soul.”

“Ok, well, I’ll meet you in the ambulance bay in five?”

He nodded, still feeling a bit in shock, “Yeah, sure.” 

When she walked away, he watched her hips sway and knew he was in deep shit. 

There was a familiar whistle and then a hand on his shoulder, “Nobody told me Dana’s replacement was hot.”

Robby shrugged off Dr. Abbott’s hand, “Have some respect, brother. She worked the ER during the pandemic in Manhattan.”

“The early days?” Robby nodded and Abbott let out another low whistle, “No shit?”

Robby sighed, beginning to log out of the computer after finishing his final chart, “That’s what I said. But her work today proves it, for sure. She’s a pro.”

“Why come work at the Pitt, then? She could probably have her pick of any hospital with the nurse shortage.”

“No idea. Hoping to find out now, I’m taking her out for a drink.”

“No shit!” Abbott said again, clapping him on the back, “Don’t let me keep you then, go get her Robby.”

***

The bar two blocks away from the hospital was quiet. It was a Tuesday, after all. The lighting was warm and soft and Gwen and Robby had sought shelter in a corner booth in the back.

They were sitting close enough that just a small movement would have their legs pushed together. Gwen tried not to notice, but over the 12 hour shift, she was beginning to wonder how anyone in the ER stopped themselves from having a huge massive crush on the grumpy attending with the kind eyes. She, certainly, was failing miserably.

“So, Dr. Robby, how long have you been at the Pitt?” She asked as she sipped her beer.

He sighed heavily, “I’ve lost track. probably about a decade, at least.”

“And you love it?”

His eyebrows furrow and he gives her a strange look, “That’s an odd question. Do any of us really love it?”

She laughs, “Probably the interns or med students. The way I see it, it’s like an addiction. When you’re fresh and new, nothing can beat the high of an ER shift. And then as the years pass, you keep coming back looking for that same high. And there are good moments. You save someone’s kid, or parent, or friend, or partner. But it never hits quite the same as it did the first time.” She takes a long swig of her beer, “But we still come back each shift, hoping it’ll be the shift that makes us feel the same way it did in the beginning.”

She turns her head back to Robby, “Is it like that for you, too?”

He nods slowly, watching her with awe, “Something like that, yeah.”

Silence falls between the two of them for a few moments, but it’s a comfortable one. Gwen doesn’t notice how Robby has moved marginally closer to her. They’re still not touching, but there’s only a hairsbreadth of space between them.

“Why’d you leave New York?” Robby asked finally.

Gwen chews on the inside of her cheek, peeling at the label on her beer bottle. The glass is cold and wet and the glue from the label comes off with ease.

“Um,” She said finally, “It was hard to be in the same place as I was during covid. The memories, the flashbacks. I needed a change, is all.”

Robby nods, but he thinks she’s not telling him the whole truth, “There was an almost two year gap on your resume, from 2023 to now.”

Her head snaps to him and now he knows for certain she’s definitely hiding something, “I didn’t know you saw my resume.”

“I asked Dana for it halfway through the shift, out of curiosity.”

She turns back to her beer bottle, “Does the gap concern you?”

He shook his head, “No. You obviously know what you’re doing in an ER. I just wonder why someone as talented as you would want a job at the Pitt.”

Gwen’s quiet for a few moments, “I’m from Pittsburgh. My parents live nearby, I wanted to be closer to them.”

It’s a half truth, and they both know it.

“And the gap?” 

She sighs, “Look, it’s not… It’s not something that affects my work, I’m just not comfortable talking about it right now. If that’s okay?”

Robby wants to know everything there is to know about her. But he understands the hesitancy. Who was he to push her to divulge personal information when he has trouble opening up to people he’d known for years? But he would get it out of her eventually.

“Yeah,” He says after a moment, “I understand.”

They talked for a while after about anything and everything. Her parents, his parents. Jake. What types of music she listened to (she loved 90s indie rock, like the Cranberries and Smashing Pumpkins) to how their families celebrated the holidays when they were young. They even delved into religion, discovering that though they both had been raised in organized religion (her, Catholicism; him, Judaism) neither of them believed in God anymore.

“It’s funny, though.” Gwen said, after she finished off her second beer, “During the pandemic I was so desperate for guidance I once found myself wandering into a church after a shift. I sat in a pew and cried for over an hour, repeating prayers I knew under my breath.”

“Did it help?”

She shrugged, “I felt better for a couple of days after. But nothing really changed.”

He nodded, “I do something similar, even now. When I feel at the end of my rope. I think it is… meditative in a way.”

Gwen nods, “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

They stared at each other, the mutual understanding intoxicating. 

But there was still so much they didn’t know.

Gwen cleared her throat, breaking eye contact first, “I should probably be getting home.”

“Sure,” Robby said, trying to hide his disappointment, “Me too.”

They walked in step until the cool night air hit them. Gwen was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the uneven sidewalk until her sneaker caught it and she went flying.

Luckily, Robby’s reflexes were sharp and he reached out immediately to catch her, pulling her to his chest, “Woah,” He laughed, “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”

“Shit,” Gwen swore, her hands flat against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

She started to move away, but his arms were solid, keeping her secured against him, “No need.” Their eyes locked again and he felt that pull to her that had been nagging at him all day, “Am I crazy,” He said softly, “if I tell you how badly I want to kiss you right now?”

Gwen’s eyes darted down to his mouth and she swallowed, “No.”

Robby lowered his head slowly, painfully slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring her off. Gwen had said earlier that she was patient, but not that patient. She rose on her toes until their lips met. She felt his gasp of surprise, but then he was reacting. One hand on her waist, another cupping her neck as he kissed her hard and slow.

Gwen hadn’t been kissed in something like two years, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had been kissed like this, if she ever had. Robby kissed like there was no one else in the world, but them. He kissed as if he wasn’t quite sure that the sun would rise the next morning. He kissed as if the ocean threatened to swallow them whole. It was all consuming and it made her head spin.

The kiss became hungrier and Robby sucked her lower lip into his mouth, biting the flesh gently. She sighed into his mouth, but the longer the kiss went on, the louder the alarm bells in her head began to ring. 

She broke the kiss, gently pulling away, “Sorry,” She said breathlessly, a hand on his chest, “I, um, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Robby frowned at her, “If you’re worried about the job, don’t. You don’t report to me, you report to the Nursing Director—“

“It’s not that.” She said quickly, “And it’s not you, either. I…” She trails off and then meets his eyes again, “I haven’t dated or done something like this in a long time. I’m not sure that I’m ready. I’m… I’m sorry, I thought I was, but—“

“It’s okay.” He said quickly, putting his hands over hers that were still against his chest, “You don’t have to explain. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Gwen wanted to stay here. She had the overwhelming feeling that once she stopped touching him, she wouldn’t be able to touch him again. But he was stepping away already, dropping her arms and allowing them distance. 

She nodded, “Yes. Tomorrow.”

His eyes roved down to her mouth and then back up to her eyes, “Goodnight, Gwen.” 

And then he was walking away. She watched his figure as he walked down the road, never turning back, until he turned right and disappeared behind a building.

She closed her eyes and sighed, “Fuck me.”

PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader 

Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.

A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.

“Where do we start?”

The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.

“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”

“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”

You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”

“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”

“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”

And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.

“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”

You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.

“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”

“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.

“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.

Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”

And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”

“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”

“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”

“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”

Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”

“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”

“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.

“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”

“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”

You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”

“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”

“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.

“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'

Oh, how wonderful.

You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.

He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.

"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.

“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”

And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”

And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.

“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.

And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.

“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”

“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.

“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”

At the sound of the what—

And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”

Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.

And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”

You glance from him to his hand.

Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.

“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”

“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”

“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I’m just—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”

“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”

“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”

You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.

The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.

After all, money was money in their eyes.

You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”

“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”

“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.

And that was what scared you the most.

The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”

“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”

“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.

He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”

You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.

So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”

And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.

You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”

His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.

You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.

And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.

Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—

And then the lock clicks open.

He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.

And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.

You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).

But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.

Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”

“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.

“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”

“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”

“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”

“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,

He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”

“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”

“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.

And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”

His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”

And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.

Shit.

Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”

And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”

An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.

And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."

He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.

“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.

The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”

You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.

Probably fucking not.

~~~

Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.

Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.

The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.

By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.

Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.

“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.

“Is something going on?”

And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.

“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”

He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”

“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”

Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.

“If you want to sleep—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”

And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.

His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.

It felt so nice.

Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —

Because it was you.

And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.

[sunwoohu]

Practice room

Genre: smut with slight fluff in the begining

Pairing: Sunwoo&fem reader

Sinopsis: You come to visit The Boyz as they practice but things between you and Sunwoo escalated quickly

Warning: english is not my first language so I apologise for mistakes. This is an super old fanfic and it's kinda bad... I still like the storyline so I wanted to post it anyways. I promise I write better now♥️

--------------------------------------------------

The Boyz were working their asses off all the time and today was no exception. You wanted to see your boyfriend so you decided to come and visit them while they were busy learning their new choreography. You didn't want to bother them too much but you missed them all, especially Sunwoo. That's why you decided to bring them some snacks.

The security let you in and you entered the building. You were caring 4 bags of food cause let's be real feeding 11 people isn't easy. As you got closer to the door you could hear the music and their voices. That itself made you happy cause you haven't seen them in such a long time.

You tryed to knock on the door but due to the loud music, they didn't hear you. A sigh of frustration left your lips as you realized that you will have to open them all by yourself.  But with all those bags this simple task seemed impossible. You leaned on the door and tryed to open them with your elbow but suddenly they opened and you fell into someone's arms. Before you could realize what happened, you heard everyone yelling your name. As you managed to get back on your feet, you were greeted with the smile you wanted to see the most.

"Hi y/n nice to see you." Sunwoo said as he pulled you into a hug. You wanted to hug him back but once again those bags interrupted your plans. "Okay okay, Sunwoo can you let her come in? She didn't come just to see you. We exist too you know" Eric said while collapsing on the floor, trying to catch his breath. As soon as Sunwoo let you go Haknyeon was already by your side, taking the bags from you."I smell food!" He exclaimed

"Yes, I brought you food. I know you guys work hard so I thought you might need a little break and a snack" As you finally stepped inside, Sunwoo went to close the door while all of them sat on the floor next to Eric. "Long time no see y/n! How are you, we missed you." Jacob asked and flashed you a smile. "I'm much better now that I'm here. I have been pretty busy with my studies, that's why we couldn't hang out more" With Sunwoo sitting down next to you, you finally started eating the food you brought.

"You are the best!  Sunwoo you have a keeper right here." Sangyeon said and looked at you first, then at Sunwoo. "I know I do and I will never let her go." He put his hand on top of yours squeezing it slightly. You looked at him shyly as he greeted you with the sweetest smile. Every time you locked your eyes with him you'd get lost in his, feeling like you were the only people in the world. All you could do was smile back at him but suddenly you felt his face coming closer to yours.

"Oh come on guys get a room" Kevin's words brought you back to reality and you looked at the floor feeling your cheeks burning. "We will" before you could process anything, Sunwoo was already up, dragging you outside the practice room. He was practically running through the hallway, trying to get to the studio room as quickly as possible. He opened the door and pushed you in.

"Sunwoo what was that" you heard the door closing and when you turned around Sunwoo was already only inches away from you. He cupped your cheeks in his palms and smiled. "I just want to spend some time alone with my girlfriend... Oh, and I want to do this" he said and kissed you.

It was a light peck but his soft lips made a 1-second kiss feels like magic. He pulled away but kept his hands on your face. You looked him in the eyes for a brief second before your gaze fell onto his lips.

Sunwoo chuckled and kissed you again. This time it was a longer kiss. You put your hands on his waist to keep him closer to you. Your lips slowly moved together. He pulled away but tugged your bottom lip on his way away. The kiss wasn't intense but it still left you breathless. He had his eyes closed and pressed his forehead onto yours gently.

"I love you. I really love you" his words made you smile. "I love you to Sunwoo" you wanted to stay like this forever; just him and you. Holding each other. "Sunwoo, Y/N! Sorry to interrupt but we should continue our practice. Sunwoo we need you there" Changmin's voice came from the other side of the door followed by a knock.

"Okay, I'm coming" you were sad that this moment had to end but you understood. Sunwoo took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers. "Will you stay and watch? We shouldn't stay much longer. And then later we can grab a drink." he asked while opening the door for you. "Yes of course." you two walked out of the room and headed to the practice room. When you entered it the rest of the boys were already in their positions. Sunwoo ran to them and you just sat down on the floor trying to see if there is any food left.

They continued their practice and let's be real they all are amazing performers but you just couldn't take your eyes of Sunwoo. He was so focused on getting the move right and you loved it. You have seen him practice a lot of times but today something was hitting differently. The way his hair got all wet cause of the sweat... The way his shirt got glued to his body and revealed his muscles... The way his heavy breathing sounded... It just made you think the most inappropriate things. He was so hot.

You started feeling all kinds of feelings in your stomach and to be honest, it was painful to watch him at this point. You just imagined all the things you wanted to do to him. But you knew you couldn't do anything for a couple more hours. That practice was a torture for you. "Okay, guys that is it for today. Yall did well. See you tomorrow" Sangyeons words sounded like heaven to you.

"Okay y/n I will be with you in a second and we can go wherever you want. I just need to change and fresh up a little" The sight made you smirk. He took his shirt off and he was drying his face with a towel. You stood up and went to lock the door since all the other members already left the room.

You came closer to him. He didn't see you at first but as he lovered the towel he saw your face in the mirror. "Hey, I will be done in a minute just wait a little" his sweet smile was back. "But I don't want to wait another second." you were looking at him through the mirror and came closer to him.

He quickly turned around to face you with confusion on his face. You put your hands on his shoulders. "I need you now, here" the lust came into his eyes as soon as you said that. "Here? You don't want to wait until we come home? I am shu...." 

"NO, I can't wait that long. This whole practice was a real torture." You smashed your lips together. The kiss was sloppy and full of need. He put his hands on your waist and pressed your bodies together. You both turned around so that your back was pressed against the mirror. He put his hands on your butt and you jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist.

You broke the kiss to catch breath and Sunwoo went to attack your neck. "And why exactly was the practice such a torture, what did I do?" you felt the smirk on his lips as he placed kisses on your neck and collar bone. You tilted your head back to give him more access and your fingers were buried into his hair. "Your heavy breathing reminded me of some things I would love to do to you" your breath got heavier with every word you said. "Do it then" His lips left your neck and his smirk was bigger than ever.

You jumped down and got on your knees, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to pull him out. Your eyes meet again and you put him in your mouth. Sunwoo groaned at the contact and put one of his hands on your head. As you started to bop your head up and down you felt him getting harder and harder. Sunwoo's moans started to roll off his tongue.

"S...stop... I won't last much longer if you continue" but you just looked at him through the mirror ignoring what he just said. He had his eyes closed and his lip trapped between his teeth. Suddenly you felt his grip on your hair tighten and you were pulled up. "You never listen, don't you? Well then I could not listen to you and just go home now and make you suffer"

"No no no no I'm sorry I rea...." your words got replaced with a groan as Sunwoo put his hand in your pants and started rubbing you. You pulled him in a kiss but as you felt him push a finger inside, you couldn't help and moan into the kiss. Your fingers were pulling his hair at the nape of his neck as he added another finger in.

"Sunwoo... Please... I need you" he looked at you dead serious, pulled his hand out, and licked his fingers. Just the sight itself almost made you cum. He went to his bag and pulled out a condom. "So you just walk around with condoms in your bag?" "Well when you have such a hot and needy girlfriend you don't have much of a choice"

"Me? Needy?" it came out more like a moan than a normal sentence cause at that moment he looked at you and pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek while slowly walking back to you. Even though you were trying to deny it, both of you know he was right. You were needy and right now you were fighting the urge to just jump on him and fuck him already. He pulled down your pants and underwear and turned you around so that you were facing the mirror. You put your hands on it and Sunwoo grabbed your hips.

"And the needy girl always gets what she wants," he said as he entered you. Soon the room was filled with yours and Sunwoos moans. Now and then you would search for Sunwoos reflection in the mirror. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, his veins on his arms popped up cause he was holding you so tight you were sure he will leave some marks.

He was thrusting at a fast pace until his eyes meet yours. He slowed down and pressed himself onto your body. One of his hands traveled under your shirt to your breasts. He kissed your neck and got to your ear. His teeth gently bit your earlobe and he whispered: "Turn around sweetheart" You did as he said and faced him.

He placed one of your legs on his hip and started to thrust again. His other hand went to your clit rubbed it. You were holding onto his body so tight. "I love you y/n" he kissed you. It was a passionate kiss. Even though at this point you were a moaning mess you managed to keep it all in and not break the kiss. "I love you too Sunwoo" it didn't take you long to cum and Sunwoo followed you shortly after. You both were out of breath.

Sunwoo pulled his sweatpants back up and handed you yours. You quickly got dressed. "You know you should visit me here more often" his shirt was back on and he packed his bag. "I should but don't expect this to happen every time I visit" He grabbed your hand and headed to the door. "Well... We'll see about that" he said and winked at you.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

tell me why i can see the fang gang doing this and getting really into it

They’d get so competitive about it, especially Y/N and Niall. Harry is Y/N’s partner, and Xander is Niall’s, and they both insist on being the ones on the ground because they don’t want to risk losing as a result of their respective pair’s possible incompetence. When they’re playing, it starts off civil enough, but it’s only a matter of time before they’re elbowing and smothering each other to try and win, screaming and laughing as they get dragged back and forth across the ground.

“You’re cheating!” Y/N gives a harsh shove at Niall’s shoulder as she wildly scoops up colorful balls, yanking her bowl towards her chest to protect it from him. “Stop trying to smack me!”

Her rough motion causes a few of his balls to fly out of his basket, and he curses loudly in Gaelic as he tries to stabilize himself in order to keep the rest of his hoard from dispersing. “You punched me first!”

“That wasn’t a punch, Niall. That was a love tap, at most.”

“And when I love tap you right in the throat? What then?”

“I’ll sick my guard dog on you.”

“You don’t have a guard dog.”

“What do you think Harry is? Decoration?”

Harry’s disembodied voice chimes up from behind them. “Guard dog, present and accounted for. Even if I feel like that title severely undermines my value.”

“Sorry, my mistake. Guard dog, eye candy, and sentient dildo.”

“Little better. Not by much, but better.”

Niall and Xander end up winning, only because Harry eventually gets bored and winds up wasting time ogling Y/N’s ass instead of putting actual effort into the game.

“We lost because of you.” Y/N huffs begrudgingly, dusting off the front of her shirt as she glares at him through her lashes. “I’m partnering with Adam next time.”

“We lost because of the way your ass looks in those jeans.” Harry corrects, a smug grin twitching the edges of his lips as he helps tame her messy hair by sleeking it down with his large palms. His hands coast from her locks to her face, cupping her jaw delicately as he leans forward and plants a dainty peck to the tip of her warm nose. “Maybe you should wear sweats next time so I can actually concentrate on the task.”

“Maybe you should learn to control your hormones and force your brain to mature past the age of fourteen.”

“Too much work. Just wear different pants.”

[labomi]

selfish | two (18+)

Summary: You’re a former coworker of Kento Nanami back when he was just an office worker. You accidentally run into him at a bakery many years later which gives you a second chance at getting to know the man who had always caught your eye.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Words: 8.6k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), vaginal sex, creampie, explicit language, alcohol

Notes: I’m so happy to get this out finally ajsfdsld thank you for all the lovely comments on the first part! I’m so glad people enjoyed it enough to convince me to write more! This will definitely be the last part for this fic, but I do have plans for more Nanami things in the future. Thanks for reading! It’s also up on my ao3 if you prefer to read it there!

Index: [Part One] [Part Two]

You were moving boxes in the storage room when you heard the chime of the front door opening. With a sudden jolt, you realized you had forgotten to change the sign from “open” to “closed” before cleaning up. Cursing at yourself for the careless mistake, you hoped the customer wouldn’t be too upset that the shop was actually shut down for the night.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” you politely explained, emerging from the back room. But one look at the tall figure by the door caused you to stop in your tracks. A large smile grew on your face when you saw exactly who had entered the shop.

Nanami was still in his normal work attire, but he had left behind his signature blazer and sunglasses. The top few buttons of his blue dress shirt were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You unconsciously licked your lips.

“I can make an exception for you though,” you teased with a wink before walking around the counter to greet your boyfriend.

As you waltzed into his open arms, Nanami leaned down to give you a sweet kiss as a greeting. You sighed happily against his lips. It felt so good to be with him after a long, tiring day. His presence always made you feel safe and warm. Like nothing could ever possibly go wrong as long as you were in his embrace.

Nanami’s hands latched onto your waist as he tried to deepen the kiss, but you reluctantly pulled away with a groan of frustration.

“As much as I’d like to continue, I have to finish closing up shop,” you complained with a pout.

Nanami kissed the top of your head before releasing you. “It’s alright. I’ll wait.”

You changed the sign on the door to “closed” to prevent any unwanted guests from entering the shop. You then wiped down all the counters and properly stored the leftover ingredients. Once finished with all your tasks, you took off your apron and shoved it in your bag. 

“I’m ready!” you called out to Nanami as you started to shut off all the lights. The two of you exited the now dark shop before you locked the front door.

Whenever you had a closing shift, Nanami always came to walk you home. You found it absolutely endearing. Even though you didn’t particularly mind traveling alone at night, the walk to your apartment was always more pleasant when the sorcerer was by your side.

It was almost midnight. The normally busy streets were now devoid of both cars and other pedestrians. You loved sharing these quiet moments with Nanami. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s presence with no one else around. Nanami preferred it this way too, especially because he wasn’t a particular fan of PDA.

You were holding onto Nanami’s hand as he quietly walked beside you. “How was work today?” you asked.

Nanami was a little sensitive about discussing his job as a sorcerer with you. He always refused to share the details of his missions, but he begrudgingly answered your general questions about his workday with vague responses.

“It was fine.” He squeezed your hand lightly. “I was able to get off early.”

“Lucky you! I wish I could have finished earlier,” you complained with a huff. “Closing shift is the worst.”

“Did you eat dinner at least?”

You nodded. “I got some takeout during my break.”

“Good.” He knew you had a bad habit of skipping dinner while you were working. You found it more convenient to just eat a granola bar, especially when it was busy. But Nanami always lightly chastised you when you did this, so you had been making more of an effort to eat better.

The two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Once inside, you immediately emptied out of your bag and threw your apron into the laundry hamper. Luckily, you were off of work for the next two days.

“Kento, you’re staying the night, right?” The sorcerer was still standing in your living room.

“I have to report to work early tomorrow. I don’t want to wake you.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a sigh. Nanami was too considerate of you sometimes. “You never wake me up. Plus, I have my 9 am class tomorrow, so I have to be up early anyway.”

Nanami knew you were right. Unlike him, you slept like the dead. Frankly, he was a little jealous. The sorcerer had always been a sensitive sleeper, but he found it much easier to relax in your presence. Since the two of you had started dating, the quality of his sleep remarkably improved.

“I’ll stay.” You grinned smugly. It didn’t take much to convince him to sleep over.

“Good. I’m going to shower.”

The two of you rarely spent the night apart from one another, alternating between each other’s apartments based on the convenience for the night. Nanami had his own toiletries, pajamas, and spare clothes in your apartment, and you had your own set of things at his place as well.

As you took your shower, Nanami changed into his sleepwear and sat on your couch, reading one of many books he left at your place. Once you announced you were done using the bathroom, the sorcerer placed a bookmark and set the book back down on your coffee table. You were already in the bedroom, changing into your pajamas and packing your bag for class tomorrow, knowing you would forget something if you waited until the morning.

You looked up as Nanami entered the room after washing up. You still found it relatively amusing to see him in such casual clothes: a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thin white t-shirt. But you were glad that only you got to see him like this. The man was the perfect example of prim and proper in public, but at home, he found it more appropriate to dress comfortably. And you thought he looked absolutely adorable. Especially with his unstyled hair.

After the lights were turned off, the two you snuggled in bed together and kissed each other goodnight. Within seconds, you were already fast asleep, exhausted from the long day. Nanami listened to the sound of your deep, even breathing. He felt completely at ease with you safely pressed against him. It wasn’t long before he followed you into a deep sleep.

---

Nanami’s life was simple before he met you at that bakery.

He went to work, came back home, read a book, had a glass of scotch, and made some dinner. The cycle repeated nearly every day, but Nanami didn’t particularly mind. He liked having a simple, predictable routine.

Once you reentered his life, things were a bit different. A bit more exciting. He wasn’t complaining.

Instead of only buying groceries for himself, he made sure to also buy your favorite snacks. Instead of making a reservation for one at a restaurant, he asked for a table for two. Instead of placing one set of utensils on his dining table, he always put down two.

Jujutsu sorcerers were a lonely group of people. They often felt isolated from the general population, born with unique abilities that allowed them to see things that most other people could not. 

It was a difficult path. Sorcerers faced a life full of constant battle and death. And the only people who could relate to their hardships were the same people dying by their sides. 

For this reason, sorcerers rarely interacted with people outside the jujutsu community. They saw themselves as an outsider to the rest of society. A society that was blissfully unaware of the existence of curses.

But it was different with you.

When Nanami was with you, he didn’t feel like an outsider or a jujutsu sorcerer.

He felt like a normal man.

The activities that Nanami once did alone were now the same activities he enjoyed doing together with you. He took you to his favorite bakery to pick out fresh bread every week. He escorted you to well-reviewed restaurants he had been meaning to visit. He even brought you to his beloved local bookstore, the one place he had been visiting for years as a regular customer.

The first time he took you into the shop, the owner couldn’t help but notice the way your hands were intertwined with one another. As you browsed through the shelves on your own, the old woman suggestively waggled her eyebrows at Nanami. 

“So you got a lady now?” she asked curiously.

Nanami thought it was a little odd that she was somehow keeping tabs on his relationship status, but he nodded anyway. 

“Ah! She’s a pretty one!”

You suddenly reappeared with a tall stack of secondhand books in your arms. “Kento! This place is amazing! I’m going to buy all of these!”

“Oh, definitely a keeper too,” the owner commented.

Nanami found himself agreeing. 

He didn’t know if you could be any more perfect.

Nanami had always enjoyed cooking. He loved the process of selecting a recipe, buying fresh ingredients, and turning them into a delicious, home-cooked meal. But he learned that enjoyed cooking even more when it was for you.

The sorcerer was appalled to hear that you hardly ever cooked for yourself. He had surveyed the state of your freezer in utter disgust. It was crammed full of boxes of microwavable meals and several pints of ice cream. You defended yourself vehemently, claiming that you were too busy to cook between classes, work, and study sessions. The microwave was the easiest and quickest appliance to use after all. And sometimes you just wanted ice cream for dinner.

Nanami took it upon himself to make sure you were eating proper, nutritious meals. In his eyes, it was less of a chore and more of a hobby. He enjoyed learning what you liked. He looked forward to hearing your thoughts about a recipe. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever he presented a new dish. The sorcerer had even subscribed to food magazines and bought some international cookbooks just to try out with you.

Every morning, Nanami packed you a healthy lunch to ensure you wouldn’t just eat a granola bar for the entire day. And whenever the two of you both had a free night, you always ate dinner together.

In particular, Friday nights had become a weekly tradition between the two of you. Nanami would prepare a special dinner with some fancy wine. The two of you would even dress up a little to celebrate the start of the weekend.

You knocked on Nanami’s door one Friday night, wearing a simple yet elegant dress with just a hint of makeup on your face. The door opened and you were instantly greeted by the mouth-watering smell of whatever the man was cooking in the kitchen. But the sight of Nanami was even more distracting. He was wearing an apron over a tight black button-up shirt with gray slacks. You bit your lip softly, eyeing him appreciatively.

While you enjoyed going out to eat in a restaurant, there was something more intimate about Nanami cooking dinner at home just for the two of you. Plus, the atmosphere was always lovely. His apartment was clean, spacious, and well-decorated. Whatever jujutsu sorcerers got paid, it was clearly more than enough.

“It smells good,” you hummed. “What are you making tonight?”

The sorcerer never revealed dinner to you in advance. For some reason, he always wanted to keep it a surprise.

“Homemade linguine with shrimp. I also got some fresh bread to go along with it.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Oooh, sounds delicious! I didn’t know you knew how to make pasta from scratch.”

Everything that Nanami prepared was always amazing. There was never a meal he made that you didn’t enjoy. The first time he cooked you dinner, you almost wanted to propose to him right then and there. A man with those looks and proper culinary skills? You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

You always offered to help Nanami while he was cooking but he would gently shoo you out of the kitchen every time. You weren’t sure if it was because he wanted you to sit back and relax or if it was because he thought you would mess things up. 

It was probably the latter. 

(Most definitely the latter.)

Due to your clear lack of culinary expertise, you were in charge of cleaning all the pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. You couldn’t complain.

Your post-dinner activities were always the same. The two of you would play a movie and then immediately proceed to ignore it for the rest of the night.

Tonight was no different. 

You moaned loudly, writhing about on the couch. “Kento, fuck.”

Your dress was hiked up around your hips, underwear already discarded with Nanami’s face in between your legs. You were already shuddering through your second orgasm of the night with Nanami eagerly lapping up your fluids. His strong arms locked your thrashing legs into place as you gripped the edges of the couch, riding out the last few waves of intense pleasure.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes as he pulled back, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Ready?” he asked in a deep voice. His pupils were blown open in lust. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. The man gathered you in his arms and headed to the bedroom.

He carefully set you down on unsteady legs as he pulled the zipper down your dress until the garment fell and landed in a heap on the ground. To his pleasant surprise, you were already braless. You turned around and started to slowly unbutton Nanami’s dress shirt, taking your sweet time. His gaze raked over your entire figure, causing your fingers to fumble as you flushed from the intensity of his stare. Eventually, Nanami had enough. He threw you on the bed and quickly shed the rest of his clothes on his own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, climbing on the bed and hovering over you. His large, calloused hands roamed all over your bare skin while his mouth focused on sucking at the sensitive spots on your neck.

You relished the feel of Nanami’s touch all over you, but one glance at his painfully hard cock had your cunt begging to be filled.

“Kento,” you whined. “I can’t wait. Fuck me, please. I need you inside me, right now.”

Nanami sheathed his entire length inside you with just one sharp thrust. He proceeded to fuck you hard and fast, just the way you liked. Each snap of his hips left you a complete mess underneath him, moaning his name over and over again. It was just barely audible over the lewd, wet sounds of your desperate cunt squeezing around him.

Nanami grabbed one of your hands and interlocked his fingers with yours. A sweet gesture as he roughly pounded you into the bed. The two of you were so worked up that it didn’t take long for the both of you to quickly become undone. You arched your back and tightly gripped Nanami’s hand as uncontrollable pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. Nanami groaned your name as he sloppily thrust into you several more times before flooding your cunt with his cum. 

When he finally pulled out, Nanami was satisfied to see his seed trickling out of you.

“Kento,” you called his name, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

The man adjusted his position so he was now laying next to you. He kissed you sweetly and whispered praises of you as you giggled breathlessly.

“Hmm, I don’t want to get out of bed and clean up yet.”

“Then don’t,” Nanami said with a devious look in his eyes. 

It was then that you felt his length hardening once again against your thigh. He suddenly pulled you on top of him as he laid on his back. The movement caused your sensitive folds to inadvertently rub against his dick as you straddled his hips. You gasped at the feeling, clutching at his chest to prop you up. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled.

---

It was a slow afternoon when a man entered the boba shop. He wore an all-black outfit and a matching beanie. Tufts of his disheveled brown hair stuck out from underneath.

“Hello!” You greeted him inside as his eyes flickered around the place nervously before walking up to the cash register. 

“What would you like to order?”

Instead of browsing the menu, the man’s gaze was focused elsewhere. Specifically, your chest. You stood there uncomfortably, wondering if you should say something or just ignore him. But then you realized the man wasn’t being a creep. He was reading your name tag.

The man said your name out loud hesitantly.

“Yes? That’s me.” You tilted your head slightly, trying to figure out if you knew this man. Nothing about his appearance rang a bell. You then started to worry about whether or not you were supposed to recognize him. Was he a current classmate? A former coworker?

The man’s eyes instantly lit up. “You’re Nanami’s girlfriend, right?”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

Kento? He knows Kento?

“Oh, um, yes I am.” The question had taken you off guard. You weren’t expecting a random customer to mention your boyfriend’s name.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” The man smiled brightly at you, looking extremely excited. “Gojo always mentions how pretty and kind you are, so I couldn’t resist visiting when he told me you worked here.”

Gojo?

If this man knew both Nanami and Gojo, did this mean he was also a sorcerer? 

The stranger had piqued your curiosity, and you just couldn’t give up the opportunity to sit down and chat with him. Luckily, it was a slow day and you convinced your coworker to allow you to take your break early. After preparing two drinks, you slipped into a booth in the back of the shop with the man taking a seat across from you.

“I’m Ino Takuma.” The man introduced himself to you.

“So, if you know Gojo and Kento, does that mean you’re a sorcerer?” You kept your voice hushed while asking, just in case your nosy coworkers were trying to listen in on your conversation.

Ino nodded. “Yep, I am.”

You couldn’t help but feel excited to meet another one of Nanami’s colleagues. He purposely tried to shield you from the jujutsu world, but it only made you more curious. Plus, you wanted to know more about what Nanami was like as a sorcerer. He was always so gentle and sweet with you. Well, except for in bed. But it was sometimes hard to imagine that he exorcised curses for a living.

“Do you know Kento well?” you asked curiously.

Ino nodded eagerly. “Yes! I worked with him on a mission once and since then, I’ve really respected him.” He blushed a little, rubbing the back of his head. “Nanami is my role model. I don’t see myself as a particularly smart guy, so whenever I don’t know what to do, I always ask myself what would Nanami do?”

Ino’s words were full of sincerity. In some ways, he reminded you of Itadori. Both of the boys seemed to admire Nanami in a way you would never understand as a non-sorcerer. But it made your heart full knowing that Nanami was a trusted mentor in his workplace.

“Does that mean Kento is strong?” You were a little hesitant to ask the question. As an outsider to the jujutsu world, you didn’t know what made a sorcerer strong. But if another sorcerer told you that Nanami was indeed powerful, you would feel comforted. You knew his job was dangerous, so you obviously worried about his safety, but you tried your best not to show it around him.

“Nanami is super strong!” Ino exclaimed, arms flailing around to emphasize his point. “He’s a Grade 1 sorcerer! That’s practically the best you can be!”

You bit back a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know. Thank you, Ino.”

The two of you continued to chat for the rest of your break, getting to know each other better. Ino even successfully squeezed out of you Nanami’s favorite bakery and favorite bookstore. He claimed he wanted to surprise the man with a gift he would actually appreciate. You encouraged him with a warm smile.

“Thank you for the tea and the conversation,” Ino said, sliding out of the booth. He hovered around you with a light blush dusting his cheeks again. “Um, next time you see Nanami, can you maybe ask him about my recommendation to a Grade 1 sorcerer? If you don’t mind that is!”

“Sure! Will do. It was great meeting you. Thank you for helping to keep Kento safe!”

Ino’s eyes widened at your words. He puffed out his chest proudly. “Of course!”

You waved at him as he exited the shop with a loud farewell.

After your shift, you had returned to your apartment to change and grab some things to spend the night at Nanami’s apartment. When you arrived at his place, the man was already setting the table for dinner. You hugged him from behind with a happy hum as finished his task. Nanami gently removed your arms from around him before turning around and greeting you with a kiss.

“Welcome home.”

“Dinner smells good,” you commented happily. “I’m starving!”

Nanami chuckled lightly. He pulled out a chair for you. “Sit down and I’ll serve you.”

The two of you sat at the table together, plates filled with delicious curry rice.

“How was your day today?” Nanami asked once you both started eating.

“Oh!” You swallowed your bite. “I actually met a coworker of yours. He came to the shop.”

“Who?” Nanami looked rather unhappy, gripping the spoon in his hand forcefully.

“Ino Takuma.”

Nanami sighed, rubbing his forehead in irritation. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to tell him to stay away from you. I have no idea how he found your workplace in the first place.”

“Huh? What? No, it’s fine! Ino was very kind and sweet. I enjoyed chatting with him. Also, don’t be too mad at him, Gojo was the one who told him about me.”

Nanami clenched his fist. The next time he saw that white-haired idiot, he was going to kill him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Kento, why are you so against me meeting other jujutsu sorcerers? These people are important to you, no? I want to meet them.”

Nanami refused to meet your gaze. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of you interacting with the jujutsu world, sorcerers included. “I’m just trying to prote—”

“Protect me, I know.” You let out a deep sigh. “But I don’t want you to hide your life as a sorcerer from me. It’s a big part of your identity, and I want to learn more about jujutsu so I can understand you, Gojo, Itadori, and everyone better.” You lowered your voice slightly. “I care about you all, you know.”

Nanami reached out across to the table to gently hold your hand. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.” He knew that shielding you from the jujutsu world as much as possible wasn’t doing you or him any favors. But Nanami didn’t know what else to do. He never imagined he would be dating someone while working as a sorcerer. And he especially never imagined he would be dating a non-sorcerer. 

Relationships between sorcerers and non-sorcerers rarely worked out, so Nanami tried to restrict your access to the jujutsu world as much as possible. He refused to talk about his missions with you. He tried to limit the presence of other sorcerers around you. He did this to protect you, but maybe he was doing it to protect himself instead. He didn’t want to lose you or scare you away.

“I do want to share my life as a sorcerer with you.” Nanami was struggling to find the right words. “But it’s difficult for me.” He had always envisioned his personal life and his work life as two separate spheres, but you were beginning to blur those lines. “I promise I’ll do better.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his efforts. “Well, we can take it slow.”

“Thank you.”

You were cleaning the dishes in the sink when Nanami wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face in your neck. Both of you felt so much lighter after the discussion during dinner.

“Oh!” A sudden realization popped into your mind. “I forgot to mention. Ino asked me to tell you not to forget his Grade 1 sorcerer recommendation.”

Nanami groaned in the crook of your neck. “Of course he did, that impatient kid.”

“What’s a recommendation? Are you not going to do it?”

He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Kento,” you whined.

“Alright. I’ll explain it to you after you’re done.”

---

You had just finished class when a text popped up on your phone. It was from Gojo.

Gojo: Hey! Do you want to go to dinner with me, Yuji, and Nanami tonight????

Dinner? You felt a tinge of excitement.

You: Sure! I’m free!

You didn’t know what the occasion was for, but you were grateful for the invite. Gojo often stopped by at your workplace, occasionally accompanied by Itadori, to greet you and grab a sweet drink. But you unfortunately never had the time to properly sit down with him and catch up. 

Out of all sorcerers you had met so far, Gojo was the most mysterious. After all, what sort of man wore a blindfold in public? And now that you thought about it, how did he always seem to know when you were working? Especially since your work schedule differed from week to week...

Weird.

Gojo: Great! I’ll send you the time and place later~

You: Thanks! See you then!

You were about to text Nanami and tell him you were looking forward to dinner when one of your classmates called your name.

“Yes?” you asked, looking away from your phone.

“Want to join our study group? We’re heading to the library right now!”

“Yeah, sure! Coming!”

It was only after you left the library several hours later that you realized you had forgotten to text Nanami. But you figured it wasn’t a big deal since you would soon see him at dinner. 

Nanami looked at his watch impatiently. It was already past 5 pm. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in his apartment, prepping dinner for you. “What are we doing here, Gojo? I need to get home.”

The white-haired calmly rested his arms behind his head with a suspicious smirk on his face. “Relax, Nanami. We’re waiting for a surprise.”

Itadori perked up beside him, looking up at his sensei with wide eyes. “A surprise?! What kind of surprise?”

Gojo chuckled. “The best kind.”

Nanami let out an exasperated sigh. He removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. The three sorcerers were standing around in the middle of a busy street filled with pedestrians. “I don’t have time for such frivolities, Gojo. Excuse me, but I’m leavi—”

“Wait!” Gojo exclaimed. He waved at someone in the crowd. “She’s here!”

“She?” Nanami repeated, trying to follow Gojo’s line of sight.

It was easy to spot Gojo, even amongst the giant, moving crowd. The tall man towered over everyone else and his bright, white hair easily stood out in the background. You could see him waving his hand at you, so you waved back.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you joined up with the three sorcerers with an excited grin. “Hi!”

“Say hello to the surprise,” Gojo announced, waltzing over to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Itadori looked thrilled to see you, but as your eyes shifted to Nanami, you immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Gojo, you did tell Kento you invited me, right?” you asked cautiously, looking up at the tall man.

The sorcerer hummed to himself for several seconds before responding. “Nope!”

You blanched. Uh oh. You should have texted him.

Nanami didn’t look too visibly upset, but he was pinching the bridge of his nose with a frown. When would that idiot stop meddling with his personal life behind his back?

“Na-na-mi,” Gojo said in a singsong voice. “Are you excited to see your stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be thanking me for bringing her here?” The white-haired sorcerer pulled you even closer to him. He didn’t miss the way Nanami’s eyes instantly narrowed at him.

Nanami grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of Gojo’s grasp until you were comfortably nestled against his side. He couldn’t stand seeing that man's hands on you. “Don’t let him touch you. His idiocy is contagious.”

You giggled at the comment. Gojo let out a satisfied hum, watching the two of you together. “Alright, lovebirds!” He clapped his hands together. “It’s time for dinner!”

“Dinner?!” Itadori gasped. He started salivating at the thought of food. “Gojo-sensei, what are we eating?”

The tall sorcerer patted the top of Itadori’s head affectionately. “To celebrate Yuji’s last night as a dead man, we’re going to a steakhouse!”

The kid loudly cheered as you looked to Nanami for clarification.

“Itadori is being introduced back to the school tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see.” Gojo had told you before that the Itadori was supposed to be dead and not to mention his existence to anyone. You didn’t understand why and you didn’t ask, but you kept your promise. The young sorcerer bounced around excitedly before hugging Gojo. You couldn’t help but smile at the adorable interaction.

“Let’s hurry up, so we’re not late for our reservation.” Gojo started walking quickly through the crowd with Itadori right by his side. You and Nanami were a little ways behind them as you found it hard to keep up with Gojo’s brisk pace. He pressed a warm hand against your lower back, guiding you through the large crowd.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Gojo invited me,” you apologized. Even though Nanami said he would be more open about the jujutsu world, you knew he was still sensitive about you spending too much time around other sorcerers. “I was going to text you but then some classmates asked me if I wanted to study with them, and I said yes because you know I need all the help I can get, and then I completely forgot to message you and by the time I left the library and actually remembered I didn’t text you, I thought it wasn’t worth it since I was going to be seeing you at dinner soon, and I, uh, yeah.” You winced, realizing you were rambling yet again.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured you. “That idiot always has something up this sleeve.”

“You’re not upset, right?”

He rubbed his hand up and down your back. It sent a tingle up your spine. “I'm not upset," Nanami replied honestly. "I’m glad you’re here.”

You slid into the booth at the steakhouse. Itadori was already seated across from you. Gojo was about to take the open seat next to you, but Nanami grabbed the back of the man’s uniform and shoved him away. 

“Hey!” the sorcerer loudly complained.

Nanami sat down next to you, completely unbothered. “Sit with your student, Gojo.” You tried to stifle your laughter, looking at the two men in complete amusement. 

Gojo slid into the booth next to Itadori with a carefree grin. Teasing Nanami was too easy when you were around.

The four of you had a pleasant dinner together. Your only complaint was the way Nanami rubbed your thigh with his left hand the entire time while waiting for the food to arrive. You were wearing a rather short dress which rode up as you sat down, giving him perfect access to your bare skin. It was incredibly distracting. 

You were a little surprised that Nanami was doing something like this in public, even though it was mostly hidden from sight. Part of you wondered if it was because Gojo was present. Nanami always acted a little differently with you when the other sorcerer was around.

For some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that Gojo knew exactly what was happening underneath the table. Even with his blindfold on, you could tell that the sorcerer was looking right at you with a knowing smile on his face. You felt a little flustered, but Nanami seemed completely unperturbed. Perhaps it was just your imagination.

After dinner, you followed Itadori out the front door of the restaurant.

“Ah! I’m so stuffed!” he commented with a satisfied hum, rubbing his belly.

“I hope you still have room for some dessert.”

The two of you turned back to look at Gojo. Nanami was only a couple of steps behind him.

“Oh! Dessert? Don’t worry, Sensei. I always got room for that!” He gave Gojo a thumbs up.

“Great! I happen to know an amazing ice cream shop around the corner!” You blinked in surprise as the white-haired sorcerer wrapped a long arm around your shoulder again and started ushering you towards the destination. “Let’s get going!”

What you didn’t see was the way Gojo turned his head back to send a smug look to his dear friend. Nanami glared at the sorcerer but didn’t intervene. The walk to the shop was short, and you didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, happily chatting away with Itadori about the best and worst ice cream flavors.

It wasn’t until you all arrived at the shop that you pulled away from Gojo and latched onto his arm instead. “What are you going to get?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. What do you want?” he asked.

You looked at the menu, eyes squinting in concentration. “I’m stuck between Peanut Butter Cup and Mint Chocolate Chip.”

“Pick one and I’ll get the other. We can share.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You don’t have to.” 

Nanami smiled softly at that adorable look on your face. He gently tucked a hair away from your face. “I like both of those flavors anyway.”

Itadori and Gojo silently exchanged looks with one another. They were both internally squealing at the cute exchange they just witnessed between the two of you. It was rare to see such a soft side of Nanami in public. 

“Nanami,” Gojo cooed, a little jealous. “Do you want to share some ice cream with me too?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Huh? Why not?” the sorcerer whined.

“Because you’ll get the most sickening ice cream flavor of them all.”

Nanami was absolutely correct.

Gojo ordered a large cone of triple chocolate ice cream with chunks of brownies, cookie dough, and fudge mixed with swirls of caramel and marshmallow. 

It was a complete abomination.

The four of you sat outside, enjoying the nice weather while indulging in ice cream. You thought it was cute how Itadori’s strawberry cone almost matched the color of his hair. Once everyone finished their dessert, the group finally split up. You waved goodbye at Gojo and Itadori. “Good luck tomorrow, Itadori!” He had shared with you earlier about how excited (and a little nervous) he was to see his classmates again. You hoped the reunion went well.

It was a quiet walk home with Nanami. The two you held hands, enjoying the calm atmosphere now that Gojo and Itadori were both gone. 

As soon as you entered Nanami’s apartment, you took off your shoes as Nanami removed his blazer. “I had a good time tonight,” you mused. “Itadori is such a sweetie, and Gojo—”

Your words were cut off with a gasp as Nanami roughly pushed you against the wall. He put a knee in between your legs, and one of his hands began to crawl up your exposed thigh. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, shivering as you felt the pleasant tingle of his touch. He gave you such a heated look that it left you swallowing nervously.

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name out of your mouth tonight,” he growled in your ear.

You looked back at him, both half-amused and half-aroused. “I’m only yours, Kento.”

“Good.”

Nanami whisked you away to the bedroom as you laughed breathily in his arms.

---

Nanami surveyed the numerous body bags in the morgue of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

“Three Grade 2 sorcerers. One Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer. Five Auxiliary Managers. Two storage attendants,” Ijichi listed off the number of casualties. 

Nanami clenched his fists. “This is the same curse that Itadori and I fought together, correct?”

“Yes,” the manager replied, pushing up his glasses. “Shoko confirmed that the bodies were all disfigured in the same manner.”

The sorcerer grit his teeth in frustration. He blamed himself. If he had been able to exorcise the curse back then, these innocent lives might have been spared. After all, it was his fault that Mahito had escaped. He hadn’t been quick enough.

“Gojo, can I have a private word with you?”

The white-haired sorcerer had been leaning against the wall the entire time, quiet for once.

“I’ll take my leave,” Ijichi announced, exiting the room. 

Nanami broke the silence first.

“If anything happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Gojo didn’t respond right away. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked in an unusually serious tone.

“Mahito is still around. My attacks are not effective against him. He seems to have a special interest in me, so there is a high probability we will run into each other again. And I may not be lucky enough to have Itadori by my side then.”

“No.”

“What?!” Nanami whipped around to face the sorcerer. The fury in his eyes was hidden by his sunglasses, but Gojo could sense the anger all the same.

“No, I won’t promise to take care of her.”

“Gojo, you—”

“Stop acting like you’re trying to die.” Nanami stiffened. “Take care of her yourself. You’re strong.”

A tense silence hung in the air. 

Nanami let out a deep breath.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

---

The next day, Nanami had just finished a mission when the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event ended. He came back to campus to see all the students in baseball uniforms. Wasn’t the second day dedicated to individual battles?

“Oh, Nanami!” Gojo called out, jogging over to him. He had forgone his blindfold for a pair of sunglasses and wore a simple button-up shirt and pants instead of his normal uniform. “Too bad you missed the game! We won!”

“The game?”

Gojo nodded with a devious look on his face. “Yup! This year, the Goodwill Event winner was determined by a baseball game!” He laughed victoriously. 

Nanami shook his head. Only Gojo could successfully pull off a stunt like this in front of both school principals.

“By the way, we’re going out for some drinks tonight. Even Utahime and Mei Mei said they would join. You should come. And bring your girlfriend too.”

“Absolutely not.” There was potentially a traitor among the group, and Gojo thought it was a good idea to bring you into the mix? There was no way he was going to let that happen.

“Too bad. I already invited her.”

“You what?! ” Nanami fumed.

“You mad or something?”

Nanami thought about trying to strangle the white-haired sorcerer when his phone chimed. It was a message from you.

You: Gojo invited me out with you guys tonight. Is that ok?

“Is that her?” Gojo asked, trying to peek at Nanami’s phone screen.

“None of your business.”

He began typing his response.

“I know you won’t say no to her,” Gojo hummed. The other sorcerer ignored him.

Nanami: Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together?

You: I have to stay a lil late at work :( someone called out sick so I’ll just meet you all there

Nanami: You sure? I don’t mind waiting for you.

You: Yup it’s fine! See you tonight!

Nanami locked his phone and put it away.

“So?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“She’s coming,” Nanami grumbled.

The white-haired sorcerer clapped his hands together excitedly like he hadn’t planned for this to happen from the start. “Great! I’m looking forward to tonight!”

Nanami glared at him in response.

“What? You still mad?”

Nanami tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the table. You still hadn’t arrived yet. Utahime was somehow already drunk, loudly laughing at something Shoko said. Gojo was bothering Ijichi who was sputtering nervously, and Mei Mei was silently sipping on a cocktail she forced Gojo to buy for her. Nanami bit back a sigh. He missed you.

“I heard from a little birdie that you have a girlfriend now, Nanami. And a non-sorcerer one at that,” Mei Mei commented with a sly smile. 

Nanami looked at Gojo, knowing exactly who this “little birdie” was, but the white-haired sorcerer turned away with a whistle.

“A girlfriend?!” Utahime gasped. She grabbed Shoko’s shoulders and violently shook her. “Shoko, did you know about this?”

The doctor was completely unfazed. “Yeah. We’ve all met her before except you and Mei Mei.”

Utahime covered her face and made dramatic sobbing noises. “Out of all of us, it’s Nanami who’s dating first?!”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. What was that supposed to mean?

“Shoko!” Utahime whined. “Will you marry me if I’m still single at 40?”

“I’ll do it!” Gojo quipped. 

The Kyoto sorcerer made a disgusted gagging noise. “Like hell I would ever agree to that!”

“I’ll do it for money. How much would you pay me?” Mei Mei asked.

“You guys are all terrible!” Utahime exclaimed. She latched onto Shoko. “Only Shoko is nice to me!”

“But I never said I would marry you,” the doctor pointed out calmly.

The entire table burst into laughter. Nanami quietly sipped on his beer. 

“Sorry, I’m late!” Your bright voice finally caught the man’s attention. You waved at the group, heading over. Nanami got up to greet you but a certain white-haired man beat him to it.

Gojo called your name happily, wrapping you into an unexpected bear hug.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nanami commanded, immediately dragging the sorcerer off of you and kicking him back into his seat. 

You chuckled lightly before hugging Nanami too. Hesitating for a little bit, you decided to kiss the man on the cheek. You knew he didn’t like PDA, but you still wanted to greet him affectionately.

“I think you missed,” Gojo pointed out. 

Flushing in embarrassment at Gojo's comment, you were about to pull away and take a seat, but Nanami suddenly leaned down and kissed you on the lips deeply. It was so unexpected that you couldn’t suppress the noise of surprise that left your throat. You could vaguely hear the cheering and wolf whistles from the table which only made you blush more. Nanami finally pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Now that’s more like it,” Gojo commented with a slow clap.

Ijichi covered his face with his hands, unable to believe he witnessed Nanami in such a manner. Utahime’s jaw dropped open in complete shock. Shoko was busy rummaging through her purse for a cigarette. Mei Mei raised her eyebrows, impressed at Nanami’s boldness.

Gojo gestured to you. “Well, say hi to Nanami’s girlfriend, everyone!”

You shyly waved at them. “Hi,” you squeaked, still embarrassed.

Even though you had the day off tomorrow, you hadn’t planned on drinking a lot during the night. But Utahime challenged all the girls to a drink-off and you couldn’t resist participating to get to know the other women better. Mei Mei only agreed to partake once Gojo confirmed he would cover everyone’s tabs.

It turned out that both Shoko and Mei Mei had incredibly high tolerances. You and Utahime on the other hand, not so much.

You groaned, struggling to climb the steps up to Nanami’s apartment. After watching your pitiful attempt, the sorcerer lifted you in his arms and carried you the rest of the way.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You felt bad that Nanami had to take care of you, especially because you had not intended to get this drunk.

“Don’t apologize.” He carefully set you down on your feet as he opened his apartment door. Nanami helped you wash up and get changed before joining you in bed once he was done with his own nightly routine.

You were practically laying on top of Nanami while rubbing a hand down his firm chest. When your hand started to wander lower, he gently took it and brought it up to his face to kiss it. “We should go to sleep.”

You pouted a little but mumbled in agreement, rolling off the man and nestling into his side instead. “Good night, Kento. Love you.”

Nanami stiffened, suddenly wide awake after hearing your words. He was filled with such an indescribable emotion that it left him completely speechless. Nanami was worried you would be upset that he hadn’t responded right away, but he was instead greeted by the familiar sound of your slow, deep breaths. You were asleep.

He let out a sigh. Nanami wondered if you would remember your confession in the morning, but he doubted it. Your memory was always spotty when you got this drunk.

Nanami kissed your head, stroking your hair gently. 

“I love you too.”

---

“Is something wrong?”

Nanami didn’t even look up from the newspaper he was reading to address the white-haired sorcerer. “Everything is fine. Why are you asking?”

Gojo hummed, tapping a finger on his chin in thought. His sharp eyes took in his friend’s appearance. “You seem a bit tense. You didn’t have a fight with the girlfriend, did you?”

“Nothing of that sort happened. And even if it did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“So you did have a fight!” Gojo exclaimed.

Nanami turned the page. “No, we did not. And just to stop your incessant bothering, I will tell you that she has a very important exam today, so I have not seen her in several days to allow her to focus on studying.”

“Ahh, I see!” It made perfect sense to Gojo now. “You look so tense because you’re sexually frustrated!”

Nanami crumbled the edges of the newspaper in his hands. “I refuse to talk about such things with you.”

“Oh, but you’re not denying it,” Gojo pointed you. “Nanami, there is absolutely no shame in talking about our sex lives. We should be more open about sex to destigmatize it. For example, last week I—”

“I’m leaving,” Nanami suddenly announced. He folded up his newspaper and exited the lounge. He’d rather fight four Grade One curses single-handedly than hear about that man’s sex life.

---

Nanami couldn’t keep his hands off of you. As soon as you walked through his apartment door, cheering that you were finally done with your exam, he immediately pulled you into his arms and kissed you wantonly.

Your absence in the past few days was so striking. He had trouble sleeping and didn’t even feel like cooking without your familiar presence around him. It was so good to have you back again.

You giggled at his eagerness, looking up at him with a knowing smile. “Did you miss me?”

Nanami was already ushering you towards his bedroom.

“Let me show you just how much I missed you.”

The next morning, you stumbled out of Nanami’s bedroom with a loud yawn. You had no class or work for the day, so you were looking forward to lounging around Nanami’s apartment as a reward for suffering through your exam yesterday.

You perked up when you smelled something good in the air. Popping your head in the kitchen, you saw Nanami flipping pancakes.

“Good morning!” You eyed the pancakes with a hungry look.

“Good morning. Breakfast will be ready in a few,” Nanami replied, adding more batter into the pan.

“Okay!” You left to quickly get dressed for the day.

By the time you returned, Nanami was setting down a plate on the table piled high with fluffy blueberry pancakes.

“Thank you for breakfast!” you said with a wide grin, snatching two pancakes and putting them on your own plate.

After eating, Nanami looked at this watch with a small frown. “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean everything up.” You headed over to the door where Nanami was slipping into his shoes and putting on his blazer. Before he opened the door, you stepped in to fix his tie that was just slightly askew.

“I’ll see you tonight, handsome?”

“Of course.”

For you, Nanami would do everything in his power to make sure he finished work on time and returned home as soon as possible. He used to look forward to the end of the workday because he hated working. But now he looked forward to the end of the workday because he got to see you.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, Nanami knew he couldn’t take anything for granted. Any amount of time spent with you was absolutely precious to him. So he wanted to make sure to maximize that amount of time as much as possible.

Nanami leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You blinked.

Huh?

Did he say…?

Wait, did you say....?

Your eyes widened in realization as you covered your mouth in shock.

Nanami said he loved you.

And you immediately said you loved him back.

The words had slipped right out of your mouth without you even realizing it.

“Enjoy your day off,” Nanami said nonchalantly before exiting the apartment. The door gently closed shut behind him.

When Nanami arrived at work, a certain white-haired sorcerer knew something was different about his friend.

“What happened with her?”

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

Gojo grabbed his phone and dialed a number quickly. “You owe me money, Mei Mei! I won the bet! I told you they would confess their love to each other before the end of the month.”

Nanami clenched his jaw.

Bet?

The sorcerer menacingly stood over Gojo, sword withdrawn and cursed energy swirling around him angrily. “What bet?”

Gojo removed the phone from his ear. Mei Mei could be heard angrily yelling from the device, clearly upset about losing a large sum of money. “Now, now, Nanami. You’re only this angry at me because I’m correct, right? You two finally confessed to each other?”

Nanami took his tie off and wrapped it around his hand.

The white-haired sorcerer threw his head back with a howl of laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes! But before you try to kill me, just know that a) it’s impossible and b) I only agreed to this bet to prove Mei Mei wrong. She didn’t think you had it in you to confess so soon! But I always had faith in you because I’m such a good friend!”

Nanami took a menacing step forward towards Gojo, but the sound of his phone chiming stopped his advance. Gojo took that as a sign to escape with his loud laughter still echoing in the hallways.

With a sigh, Nanami unlocked his phone to read the text from you.

You: Wanted to say I love you ♡

You: Just in case you didn’t hear earlier

You: But I’m pretty sure you did...

You: I just want to be sure

You: Anyways I’ll see you later :) 

You: Miss you already

You: I'll try not to destroy your apartment

You: Ok sorry I'll stop bothering you now

He couldn’t wait to come home to you tonight.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

~~

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s 2020 Birthday R&S

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

[ CHAPTER ONE - Birthday ]

“Ding ling ling...”

Hearing the phone ring, Gavin, in the middle of drying the sheets, hops off the small bench and runs towards the telephone.

“Hello? Is this Little Gav?” Wardia’s gentle voice comes from the receiver.

“Mom!” Gavin grips the phone, eyes squinting into a smile. “How’s Grandma? When are you coming back?”

On the other end of the line, Wardia sighs. “Little Gav, I’m sorry.”

“Even though Grandma’s condition is much better, the doctor says more observation is needed. Which is why Mom may not be able to come back today.”

The light shining in Gavin’s eyes dims. After a while, he blinks, his little hands pinching the telephone cord tightly. He speaks into the transmitter in a serious voice.

“It’s all right.”

This time, it’s the gentle voice which grows quiet. 

“Mom will definitely be back soon and make up for Little Gav’s birthday, okay?”

“Mm.”

“That’s good... hold on, grandma wants to say a few words to you.”

After a short silence, Gavin hears his grandmother’s slightly weak yet kindly voice. She wishes him a happy birthday, and even sings him a stanza of the birthday song.

“Little Gav...”

Hearing his mother’s voice again, Gavin unconsciously leans into the receiver.

“Our Little Gav is really sensible and is a very obedient child.”

“...mm.” Gavin thinks for a moment, but is unable to hold himself back. He adds on a sentence. “Mom, once Grandma is well, you must definitely come back quickly.”

“All right. Mom promises you. I’ll come back quickly.”

After the phone call ends, Gavin hears the “du- du-” of the dial tone coming from the receiver. A long time passes before Gavin remembers that he has yet to complete something.

He returns to the balcony, pulling on the sheets to dry. The sheets are crooked and twisted - it doesn’t look the same as how his mother does it. Considering how he didn’t just spread them on the ground, he considers it a task completed smoothly.

Gavin sits at the one-person dining table. He opens the takeaway box and tries a bite of the cake.

The cake is a little too sweet. It isn’t as delicious as the one his mother bakes by hand.

The candles have been thrown into the drawer by Gavin. The cake, which he only had one bite of, is stuffed into the refrigerator.

At night, he plays games for a little longer than usual. He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then crawls into bed to sleep.

🎐

[ CHAPTER TWO - Interlude ]

The weather forecast is very accurate. There is a light rain in the afternoon, and it seems to be getting heavier. 

Right after school dismissal, Gavin trots while holding an umbrella, hoping to reach home before the rain enters the balcony and drenches the sheets.

As soon as he enters the cluster of buildings, he sees a few older boys not far off, surrounding a little child. 

“Hand it over quickly. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

“Just look at who our Brother Qian is. Quit dawdling.”

"Hurry and hand over the newest game console!”

Sentences and noises enter Gavin’s ears. After thinking about it, he turns around the corner and strides over.

Mom has said it before - be willing to help others. 

Seeing Gavin, the leader of the boys gives him a look of disdain and waves his hand. “Small child, this has nothing to do with you. Go away!”

Gavin ignores him, pulling the crying boy to his feet. 

“Hey. What are you doing?” the leader of the boys, who is bigger sized than Gavin, presses him onto the ground.

Unexpectedly, Gavin follows the flow of the movement and rolls on the ground, breaking free. He takes a few steps back and stares at them coldly.

“You!”

“Wait... wait wait, Brother Qian, this guy seems to be Gavin...”

“Gav...” hearing this, the expression of the person called “Brother Qian” changes in an instant.

“He’s the one who beat up dozens of people! He’s incredibly strong - a monster no one can stop!” 

Even though his voice is lowered, every word from the small gangster floats into Gavin’s ears.

Hearing the unpleasant title, Gavin furrows his eyebrows.

“What did you say?”

“I... I have some urgent things to settle, so I’ll let you off! T-there won’t be a next time!” 

Reluctant to admit their mistake, the domineering kids run away in a hurry.

Gavin looks at the escaping children, and lets out a small “tch”. Picking up the game console they left behind in their haste, he stuffs it into the little boy’s hand.

“Hey, this is for you.”

The little boy, who has been sobbing quietly all this time, finally wails in a loud voice.

The noise hurts Gavin’s ears, so he turns around to leave. Thinking about how the little boy doesn’t have an umbrella, Gavin folds his own and places it beside the boy. 

🎐

[ CHAPTER THREE - Excuses ] 

Staring at the crying boy, Gavin wonders where the sheer volume of tears even comes from, and how he can howl so loudly. After a moment of hesitation, Gavin tries to comfort the boy.

“They’re gone. You should go home soon.”

“Little dear, what’s the matter with you? Which family do you belong to?” an auntie comes over in the middle of her run after hearing the crying sounds.

“Oh, aren’t you the one who beat up a kid last time? Why are you bullying people again?” Seeing Gavin, the aunt immediately pulls the squatting boy behind her.

Gavin looks at her, baffled. 

“He... ooo... game console... knocked down!! Oo...! I’m scared...oo!”

The little boy cries loudly, his words incoherent. Even though he tries his best to explain, his excuses only lead to the aunt deciding that Gavin was bullying him.

At this point, more adults have gathered. The father of the little boy hurriedly rushes over, and holds the boy in his arms.

“This bad kid beat someone up again!” the aunt self-righteously tells the boy’s father, with a stern look.

“I did not.”

The man has a slightly unhappy expression on his face. He picks up the boy and looks at Gavin persuasively. “Just apologise, and turn over a new leaf. You’re still young, so it’s okay if you make mistakes. The important thing is to admit your wrongs and change.”

“I did not bully him,” Gavin repeats himself, increasing his volume.

A busybody in the crowd pipes up, “It’s because his father is busy at work, and is away most of the year.”

Gavin freezes. 

Seeing that Gavin is quiet, the other party continues coldly, “It’s understandable if your mother can’t teach you well since she’s alone. Because of you, my children were...”

“You’re not allowed to say that!”

Red-faced, Gavin clenches his fists, and even his body starts trembling slightly.

“I did not beat anyone! I didn’t do anything wrong. Someone was bullying him, and those people already ran away!”

The person didn’t expect such a fierce reaction from Gavin. While he originally wanted to share more preachy advice, he meets Gavin’s dark eyes, which are now lit with anger. 

He’s left stunned, the words he prepared lodged in his throat, not knowing why he feels sudden guilt. In the end, he says a few more words and leaves.

The rain continues to patter.

The people who were gathered gradually leave, and only a drenched Gavin remains, along with a red umbrella at the side. 

🎐

[ CHAPTER FOUR - Bandages ]

Gavin picks up the umbrella and shakes off the water. He happens to see Wardia stepping through the entrance of the cluster of building, coincidentally meeting the father of the little boy from just now.

“Are you Gavin’s mother? Well, you don’t know it yet, but something happened today...”

The man’s voice continuously enters Gavin’s ears, and Wardia has a shocked expression.

“...I’m not saying that the child is bad, but...”

Gavin only feels a stuffiness in his chest, as though his heart has been gripped by an invisible hand, squeezing it tightly.

He takes a few steps towards his home, but unconsciously pauses. He doesn’t feel like going home that much.

Gavin wanders aimlessly among the cluster of buildings for a while, and finally chooses to sit down in a small, secluded corner.

Because of the earlier fight and the push, his elbows and knees have sustained slight injuries, and are now starting to sting fiercely.

He skilfully retrieves band-aids and cotton swabs from his schoolbag, and cleans his wounds carelessly before sticking band-aids on.

Now that he has bandaged himself, what should he do next? 

Gavin thinks for a bit. Logically speaking, he should be waiting for his mother to come home, tell her that he has been doing fine over the past few days, then show concern for his grandmother’s condition. However, he has no idea how to talk to his mother now, nor how to face her.

Gavin is afraid that his mother would be worried when she sees his new injuries. He’s even more afraid that she would really think of him as a bad child.

Gavin remembers that he hasn’t brought in the sheets yet. 

A few days ago, he was the one who patted his chest and decided that since his mother usually does the housework and is likely tired, he would help her wash the sheets. By now, they would have been completely drenched by the rain. 

With this thought in mind, hot tears fill his eyes, and his vision starts to blur.

He grits his teeth, hurriedly wiping his face, wanting to take back the tears. Unfortunately, the results aren’t very good.

He learns to do what his mother would do when he’s upset. He raises his hand to pat his own head.

“Everything will be resolved.”

He learns to do what the textbook says, and speaks to himself softly.

“Little Gav?”

Hearing this sound, Gavin lifts his head sharply. His mother is slightly breathless when she appears before him. Perhaps she had been running.

“Mom, I...”

Without waiting for Gavin to finish, Wardia squats down, reaching out to hug Gavin in her arms tightly.

The tender touch descends on his head, which is damp from the rain.

“Mom knows that Gavin didn’t do anything wrong.”

She says this confidently.

🎐

[ CHAPTER FIVE - Warm wind ]

Wardia rubs Gavin’s head gently, her tone filled with resoluteness and love. “Everything has been clarified. The boy you helped explained everything to us after he calmed down.”

“His father also wants to convey an apology to you. They were too anxious, and misunderstood you.”

“Does Mom believe that I’m not a bad child?”

Gavin asks in a low and muffled voice, burying his head into Wardia’s shoulder.

“Silly child,” Wardia pulls away slightly. Looking into his eyes, she speaks in a serious and solemn voice. “I don’t just believe it.”

“Mom has always known that my Little Gav has a strong sense of justice, a sense of responsibility, and is a very kind child.”

“Even if other people don’t understand you, how could Mom not understand you?”

Gavin feels his eyes welling up in hot tears again, and a sour sensation surfaces in his nose. He turns his head away, not wanting Wardia to see his wet eyes. 

“Mm.” After a while, he nods.

“Come, let’s go home. We’re going to make up for your birthday today.”

Wardia stands up, holds Gavin under her umbrella, and walks in the direction of their home together.

By the time Gavin changes into a fresh set of clothes and is shaking off water from his head as he steps out, the weather has cleared up.

Sunlight passes through the wind chimes near the windowsill, casting beautiful colours into the living room. 

Wardia has tidied up the dried sheets, and is sitting on a soft cushion. Seeing that Gavin’s hair is still wet, she waves a hand towards him.

Although Gavin is stunned for a while, he quickly understands his mother’s intentions.

“My hair will dry by itself soon. I’m not a small child...” Gavin feels like running away while he says this, but his mother catches him and pulls him over.

“It’s not good if you don’t blow it dry properly. You're going to have a basketball match soon.” While Wardia says this, a breeze rises from her palm, warming Gavin’s surroundings and blowing away the water.

On this clear late afternoon after the rain, sunlight streams lazily into the living room, in which every crevice is filled with warmth.

Even though he feels slightly embarrassed to be in his mother’s arms, Gavin has always liked his mother’s wind.

Gentle, warm, making him feel as though he can float along with the wind.

“What does Little Gav want to eat tonight? Mom will cook it for you.”

He considers it carefully, holding up his fingers to count a few homely dishes.

The sheets on the balcony flutter, and the wind chimes ring. In the oven, the cake baked by his mother releases a sweet aroma. 

Being held by his mother, Gavin feels a peace of mind. 

It’s as if this moment is the happiest moment of his life. 

🎐

[ CHAPTER SIX - Blessings ]

“Little Gav, happy birthday!”

After Gavin blows the candles out in one breath, Wardia smiles and hands him an exquisitely-wrapped gift.

“Open it and have a look?

Gavin’s eyes shift back and forth from the cake to the present for a long while. In the end, he excitedly chooses to accept the present and tears it open.

“You like playing outdoors and basketball. These can protect you from injuries.” Wardia looks at Gavin, her eyes filled with pride and a smile. 

It’s a pair of hand-stitched knee pads.

Gavin holds up the knee pads, flipping them over to study them carefully. The colour of the knee pads is simple, and suits Gavin’s tastes. His name and a small plane are embroidered along the edge.

“I’ll wear this to the next basketball competition, and will definitely win!”

Wardia looks at the boy, whose eyes are full of light. She smiles and uses her chopsticks to clip vegetables into his bowl.

“In that case, you have to eat more to grow even taller. Grandma specially let me bring back these dandelions. Do you remember the dandelions in grandma’s courtyard?”

Gavin nods. He remembers that grandma’s house has a large patch of dandelions. Mom can create a small gust of wind and carry the fluffy dandelions to a faraway place. 

“Once you’re on vacation, we can visit grandma again. She misses you.”

Gavin grins widely and nods.

Before going to bed at night, Gavin shifts his thick astronomy encyclopaedias away. He pulls out the small items that have been stuffed into his cabinet, and retrieves a small box that has been carefully kept. 

Inside, there are pinballs, a small plane, and all sorts of things that he considers treasures.

He places the knee pads inside, closes the lid tightly, and returns it to its original spot.

The quilt and sheets were just collected, and he seems to be able to smell the warmth from the sun.

While he drifts in and out of sleep, he thinks about the wish he made, and thinks about everything that happened today. 

He vaguely knows that someone will definitely believe him, and will stand on his side. 

Sharing a birthday cake together, seeing the dandelions together, and listening to the wind chimes together.

🎐

Gavin’s Birthday Collection:

Old Haunt Date

Moments and Texts

Phone call

Video call

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

Little Moments

A/N: Hey everyone!! So this is a little drabble type thing that I was inspired to write based on this post by @crxstalcas​, and I really, really like it, so I hope that you guys do as well! This is also kind of in honor of Cas’ birthday because he’s the absolute best. 😌 This is my first ever SPN writing as well, so I’m happy about it, tbh. Lemme know what y’all think!!

Pairing: None

Summary: Just a small, sweet Winchester family moment.

Tags: None, really, this is kinda just all fluff, tbh

Word Count: 1,035

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

Dean had been complaining about his hair for about a week now. He was getting used to the longer style, but it was always getting in his face and it was such a pain while he was cooking. Sam kept telling him to just cut his hair, but he kind of didn't want to, if he was being honest. And so that's how he ended up in his current predicament. Jack thought he had the perfect solution.

"I wasn't really sure which color you would want, so I got all of them. And now you can even have a rainbow if you'd like to." Jack beamed at Dean, looking hopeful and seeming proud of himself for fixing Dean's problem as he held up the rainbow array of hairpins.

Dean sighed softly as he tried not to smile at the kid's problem-solving. He really wanted to say no, but he looked so happy at the thought that he did something to help Dean and Dean just couldn't bear the thought of the kid looking any less than how he did right now.

"Thank you, Jack, I really appreciate you thinkin' of me like that. How about you decide what color I should use?" Dean said to him. Jack's eyes lit up at Dean's words and he looked down at the hairpins he was holding, a small, thoughtful smile on his face.

He looks back up at Dean after a moment, an excited glint in his eyes. "Can I put in all of them? We could make rainbows on each side!" It was then that Dean remembered how young Jack truly was. He could be so mature and adult-like when it was needed, but at the same time, he still had so much development to go through, so much to learn about. Dean chuckled softly, he couldn't help himself. Ah, the love he had for this kid. Even if he never said it outloud much.

"Sure, kid, that's fine if that's what you wanna do. C'mon on." He patted Jack's shoulder and gestured to the kitchen table. He went and sat down, facing the table, and Jack stood beside him, taking the first hairpin out.

"Just be careful, alright? Don't want these gettin' all tangled up and makin' me have to cut 'em out." Dean grumbled slightly.

Jack smiled again and nodded. "Okay, Dean. I'll be careful." Then he got to work putting the hairpins in Dean's hair, one at a time.

And that's how Sam and Cas found them half an hour later, Dean hunched over the kitchen table and Jack leaning down over his hair, concentrating on getting the hairpins lined up exactly right. It had been taking a lot longer than Dean expected and he was almost starting to regret telling Jack yes. The kid was so specific about it, said he had to get it exactly right even when Dean told him that it would be fine either way.

Sam cleared his throat purposely to get their attention and Dean startled, turning around in his seat right as Jack finished clipping the last one in place.

"Oh, uh, hey, guys. You're back a bit early." Dean states, trying to ignore the red trying to creep onto his cheeks. This was definitely not exactly what he would call an ideal situation. He had been hoping he could finish cooking and get these out of his hair before Sam and Cas got back to the bunker, but it seems that was not what the world had planned for him today.

Cas takes in the colorful hairpins in Dean's hair, his head tilting to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing. Like he's trying to figure out what the point of it was. Sam was currently trying not laugh and failing miserably as a few chuckles escape while he sets grocery bags down on the counter.

Jack takes a step to the side away from Dean and holds his arm out, like he's presenting his masterpiece. "I helped Dean keep his hair out of his face so that he can cook." Jack explained to Sam and Cas happily.

Cas nodded slowly. "Well I guess you can stop complaining about it now, at least. Right, Dean?" He said as he followed Sam around the kitchen to help put groceries away.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked at Cas. Was that...teasing in his voice? "Yeah, that's right." Dean said skeptically. He stood up, going to help put things away, silently telling Jack to do the same.

"What were you even going to make, Dean? We barely have anything." Sam stated.

Dean looked at him. "What do you mean? We still got eggs, we got bacon, we got bread. Bam, breakfast for dinner." Dean explained like it was the smartest thing in the world.

Sam sighed softly and shook his head. "Yeah, you just wanted an excuse to add more salt to your diet." Sam said matter-of-factly.

Dean rolled his eyes at him as Jack spoke up from over by the fridge, taking a container of tomatoes from Cas. "I like breakfast for dinner. It's fun." He said cheerfully.

Dean grinned at Sam. "See?" He gestured to Jack. "The kid gets it."

Then Cas speaks up. "Well, either way, we have more food now, so you can have breakfast for dinner or you can just have dinner...for dinner." He seemed more unsure of his sentence the more he spoke and Dean snorted, looking at Cas.

"Yes, thank you, Cas, I'll definitely keep that in mind." Dean says, amused, placing his hand on Cas' shoulder for a moment. Him and Cas stare at each other for a little too long and Dean finally looks away when Sam discreetly nudges his side with his elbow.

Dean clears his throat gently and goes back to the task at hand, the rest of their chore being finished up silently except for Jack quietly humming to himself.

Once everything's put away, Dean claps his hands and looks at the three of them. He tries his best to ignore quietly laughing at him as he seemingly remembers the pins in Dean's hair as he speaks. "Alright, so, breakfast for dinner still okay with everyone?"

A/N: How was it, guys?? Let me know!! All feedback is very much appreciated, please tell me what you think of it!! Thank you guys for reading, if you did!! 💜

[cyhyr]

Whumpas In July: Secret

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~5910

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Sleep deprivation, dissociation, it-happens-in-a-dream domestic violence, blow jobs, hallucinations, stalking, night terrors, nightmares, therapy, mental health issues, lying, secrets, open ending, TBC

A/N: It's a day late, but it happened! I may have missed a tag or two, please let me know if you catch something I'm posting this and I'm very tired :(

A sequel to “Support”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

Sitting against his new headboard, in his new bed, alone in his new house, Iruka tips his head back to the ceiling and sighs heavily through his nose. It’s late, and he has classes to teach in the morning, but gods he can’t sleep. He wants desperately to blame this bout of minor insomnia on Kakashi’s absence; his partner left a week and a half ago on a mission above Iruka's clearance, which can only mean S-rank. And yes, of course he’s worried, but Kakashi’s also still within the clocking estimate for the mission parameters, so he’s not… he’s not that worried. Kakashi’s the best for a reason. He was assigned to the mission for a reason.

That’s not why Iruka can’t sleep.

His hands rest on his thighs, lower back aching. He’s been sitting here, in this position, for hours. First he was reading, then he was meditating; now he’s… shit, he’s not sure, but he’s definitely keeping himself awake deliberately at this point.

Because every time he falls asleep, he sees Mizuki hovering over him again. And he can’t. He can’t sleep, knowing that that’s waiting for him in his dreams.

~

It started ten days ago—the same day Kakashi left for his mission, oddly enough—when he brought the mail in. He wasn’t expecting much; junk, new utility set-up, perhaps a polite correspondence from the principal mentioning his move. What he hadn’t expected was a letter from the Konoha prison.

At first he thought it was for the previous tenant, that they had failed to file the paperwork required to forward their mail in time and so the post office sent Iruka the wrong mail. A perfectly normal mistake. But. The letter was addressed to him. Umino Iruka. It even had the new address written out, not his old one; so it hadn’t been forwarded.

That was what made Iruka pause and his heart throb and his breath stutter. He hadn’t yet filled out the mail-forwarding paperwork either, a task he meant to do that night and file in the morning. No one besides the utilities and the Academy had his new address listed as official. The prison certainly didn’t.

He went inside and put his back against the door, locked it and set the wards, and only when he felt safe did he open the letter.

DID YOU REALLY THINK LEAVING WOULD RID YOU OF ME

Iruka dropped the paper and slid down the door. He blacked out.

~

“How is the new house?”

“I’m adjusting,” Iruka says. “It’s a lot more space. It’ll be better when Naruto comes home.”

“I understand Hatake-san is out of the village.”

Iruka nods.

“I also understand that you have the clearance to know the clocking estimate, but not the mission details.” Rikona holds up her hand to stop his question. “I don’t know about it either. You know more than I do, actually. Having once had Sandaime’s ear has put you in quite a unique position, hasn’t it?”

Iruka settles. “It does. Tsunade-sama also trusts me with a considerable amount of information well above my rank.”

“Do you feel that this is a source of anxiety for you?”

“No. I would worry more if I didn’t know.” Iruka scratches his scar with one finger. “I worry anyway, especially if the shinobi out on mission are former students of mine. But I think it would be worse if I didn’t have the clearance to check what they were going into.”

“Some of your students will be of age soon to be tapped for ANBU service,” Rikona prompts.

“I try not to think about that.”

“Your file says here you also were considered for service, should you advance in rank,” she leans her head into a propped hand, elbow balanced on the edge of her desk. “You could have met Hatake-san much earlier.”

“I’m not a good fit for ANBU, Rikona-sensei, and we both know that,” Iruka grins. “I’m… too soft.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that’s true. I think, maybe, you’re too human.”

“Too—?”

“ANBU, being the Hokage’s sharpest tools, have to separate themselves from their own humanity.” She smiles. “We’ve only been doing these sessions for about two months, but in my professional opinion, that separation would be particularly difficult for you.”

Iruka nods hesitantly. “I understand. I… I can, should a mission require it, but…”

“But that separation doesn’t come easy enough.” Rikona makes a note—a scribble, really—in the notes on her desk. “In our world, that weakness is pretty significant. But for your own profession, as a teacher of young people, that humanity is essential. Keep holding onto it.”

“Thank you,” Iruka nods. “I’ll certainly try.”

“We have five minutes left. Is there anything else you want to discuss quickly before we part for the week?”

Iruka thinks, briefly, about the letter in his genkan. He hasn’t been able to move it. It’s stuck under the edge of the table against the wall, one placed specifically for dropping keys and gloves and mail and hitai-ate onto when he gets home. The very edge of it laughs at him every time he leaves or enters his house.

“No. Nothing else comes to mind.”

Rikona nods. “Then I’ll see you next week, same time.”

“Thank you, Rikona-sensei.” He stands and bows, and then sees himself out.

~

He turns his face with the force of the slap—they learned that punches left bruises, but slaps only left red marks that faded by morning. His back meets the wall, the bookshelf, a picture frame; something crashes.

“Do you like making me mad Iruka?”

He’s pulled up by his shirt and slammed back into the wall again, this time the back of his head hits hard and he stands dazed for a moment. Mizuki cups his cheek, red and hot from the slap just a minute ago, and kisses him.

“I hate hurting you, but it seems like it’s the only way to make you listen.”

The kiss turns into a bite, Mizuki gnawing at his throat. He gasps, sobs, tries so hard to be quiet; they’re not in the bedroom yet why is Mizuki doing this they’re not in the bedroom yet—

“I give you all you could want, and you can’t even spare one evening for us to be alone?”

Mizuki won’t punch him in the face anymore; that doesn’t mean he won’t punch him elsewhere. His fist digs into Iruka’s stomach; he leans over, hugging his middle. He starts to slide down the wall at his back, the fabric of his shirt riding up as it scratches against the texture of old paint.

Mizuki halts him with a hand in his hair. He lets out an involuntary, soft cry.

“You only have me. Stop trying to replace me, so I won’t have to remind you who you belong to.”

Mizuki softens his voice, but tightens his hold on his hair.

“I don’t like hurting you, Iruka. But you make me so mad I can’t stand it. I’m the only one who can love you, okay?”

“Mizu—”

“I’ll be in the bedroom. Don’t make me wait too long.”

Then he lets go of his hair and Iruka slumps the rest of the way to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his head in his arms. Gods what did he do to anger Mizuki so?

…

Iruka wakes with tears stuck to his cheeks and eyelashes, his mouth dry as his own attempts at baked goods, and a deep-set chill which no amount of tea and blankets will stave off.

He really hopes Kakashi comes home soon. This sleeping alone thing is bullshit.

~

Iruka doesn’t sleep for the rest of the weekend. On Sunday evening he fills out a request for a substitute and leaves it on the principal’s office door, and then heads back home. It’s the sloppiest form he’s ever filled out, but he needs to try and sleep. He’s hoping he’s exhausted enough, being awake for over forty hours with the aid of food pills and meditation, that he’ll sleep dreamlessly tonight and tomorrow.

And then he goes to unlock his door and a pair of arms encircle him, and a soft voice rumbles in his ear, “Hello, Love,” and fuck he’s glad his reflexes are shit right now because his instinct screams danger! but his heart cries Kakashi—

He slumps back into Kakashi’s arms, sighing. “Welcome home,” he murmurs.

“Iruka?”

“Hmm. Really tired.”

“Me too. Bed?”

“Just to sleep.”

“Of course.”

Kakashi walks them inside and sets the wards while Iruka drops his keys and vest and takes off his sandals. The letter glares up at him from under the table; he subtly toes it further underneath, so Kakashi doesn’t see it.

The man already has it out for Mizuki. This would just push him over the edge. Better not.

Warm hands slip his hitai-ate off his head and gently untie his hair. He hums, and leans into Kakashi’s chest beside him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” Iruka says. “Just having an… adjustment period. With the new place. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Ah. I understand.”

He takes Iruka’s hands and kisses his wrists. Just about a month and a half ago, they’d been torn up with rope burn from the three days he’d spent in captivity. Now, there are just a few pale scars there. Kakashi kisses them every chance he gets.

He pulls Iruka along to the bedroom. “Do you need to eat first?” Iruka asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. “I had a ration bar on the way home. I’ll be alright until morning.”

Iruka opens the door and leads the way in, turning to face Kakashi once the door is shut behind them. He brushes his fingers along his partner’s mask, asking, “Is this—?”

“Take it, Love.”

He wets his lips and pulls the fabric down, and gently thumbs at pale cheekbones, lips, the mark at the corner of Kakashi’s mouth. More than anything else, getting to bare Kakashi’s face feels so intimate, so charged. He kisses him softly, chastely; Kakashi holds him around his waist and walks them back to the bed.

They strip each other quickly, touches and kisses growing heated. “I thought we were just going to sleep?” Kakashi chuckles.

“I missed you,” Iruka murmurs, moving to trail kisses down his jaw and throat, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. He follows, dropping slowly to his knees and dragging kisses across the expanse of Kakashi’s pale chest. “Maybe I missed you too much,” he presses into Kakashi’s skin.

“Gods, Iruka, you—you don’t have to—oh, please,” Kakashi leans back on his palms, breath starting to come heavier. Iruka swirls his tongue around one nipple, bracing a hand on Kakashi’s lower back.

“I know I don’t have to,” Iruka sighs, licks his way to the other nipple and sucks harshly to pull a strangled gasp from his partner. “But I definitely want to, if it’s alright?”

“Yes. Yes, please, absolutely alright.”

He dips his head lower, nosing at Kakashi’s stomach and letting the man fall back onto the bed; first, to his elbows, then all the way flat on his back. He mouths around the base of Kakashi’s cock, breathing him in, feeling the lithe muscles of his thighs under his palms.

He’s still exhausted. But this. This he can stay awake for.

Iruka asks, lips against Kakashi’s reddened cock, “Can I put you in my mouth?”

“Please. Please, yes, yes, Ah—fuck, oh-oh shit—”

Normally, Iruka would simply slide Kakashi into his throat and hold him there, comfortably in his mouth, until Kakashi needs to come. Tonight, though… tonight he tries—more. He slides his lips down, down, down until they meet wiry curls, until the head of Kakashi’s cock, indeed, slips down his throat. And then. Then, he moves.

~

“Ah, yes, so nice. Perfect, Iruka; love you, love you, love—oh, oh shit, love what are you—OH GODS—”

Kakashi throws his fist into his mouth and bites down to keep from screaming as Iruka starts fucking his mouth on his cock, gliding up and down with spit-slicked lips and such warm, open, wet heat—it’s… it’s…

And then Iruka starts to speed up. He braces himself on Kakashi’s hips and bobs his head just out of Kakashi’s range of view—he could open the sharingan and see it perfectly but gods that would be cheating and he has no doubt in his mind that knowing he’s not being watched is actively helping Iruka avoid an episode so he won’t, he can’t. But oh, he wants.

“More. More, please. Whatever you can give me, please love,” Kakashi whines. “Fuck, Iruka.”

Iruka hums, tongues at him more, and pulls him into his throat to hold him for a moment. Breathes, in, out, in—out, and his mouth slides back up the shaft to the head. He stays there for a while, sucking and lapping at his slit and Kakashi pants heavily, reaching down with one hand blindly to touch Iruka’s hair. As Iruka begins to bob slowly again, Kakashi reaches even further to thumb at the corner of Iruka’s mouth, stretched around his cock. Iruka tips his head just slightly to the side, to lean into the touch.

“Can I—” Kakashi licks his lips, his breath hitching, “Can I use the g-word tonight?”

Iruka taps his hip… and then taps it again.

Kakashi nods. “Okay. Okay, Gods, but. Just. Oh. Fuck. Amazing. Literally Breathtaking, Iruka fu-uck.”

Iruka hums along his length; it sounds almost like a laugh.

“I’m. I need to. Love, please, I—”

He picks up his rhythm, faster now. His hand comes into play, touching his thighs and cupping his balls and fuck; his other hand holds the base of his cock and together with his mouth, Iruka—“Iruka, oh just-just like that please.” He’s not going to last. Fuck, he never lasts long with Iruka but this… this is turning out to be embarrassingly short.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna. Please. Iruka, Love, I know you don’t like—oh-oh-aah—like to swallow, but-but can I come in your mouth? Please, please don’t stop, please,” Kakashi knows he’s practically sobbing, but it’s staggering how wonderful this is, and he wants to come so bad but he’ll hold back until he has Iruka’s permission.

One tap on his hip. He waits. And waits. No… no second tap.

One tap means yes.

One tap means yes.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, oh yes, Iruka—!”

~

The flood of come in his mouth, while he is prepared for it, is still extremely unpleasant. He holds Kakashi’s dick as it pulses, until his mouth is full, and then he quickly pulls off and continues getting him off with his hand. He turns his head aside, pulls close a box of tissues from under his nightstand, grabs a handful, and spits. Once his mouth is clear, he pulls another few tissues from the box and starts cleaning Kakashi up.

He made quite the mess. Iruka smiles. His chest is heaving through his glow, both eyes gently closed. Iruka wipes away come from his groin and off his softening cock, also sopping up a bit that landed on his stomach. He bends over and presses a kiss to Kakashi’s navel, and says, “Be right back.”

Kakashi hums in response.

Iruka chuckles, and leaves for the bathroom. Tissues are fine to get rid of much of the mess, but it won’t clean up the residue. Plus, even if he didn’t just have come in his mouth, he’d have to brush his teeth.

He brushes quickly, washes his face, and as he lifts his head to look in the mirror—his heart stops.

“Sucking someone else off doesn’t mean I don’t still own you.”

Iruka turns, arm tight in a fist and aimed for the throat. But—all he hits is air.

All he hits…

Oh.

Iruka sags back against the vanity. He’s gone so long without sleep he’s hallucinating. He thought he saw—Mizuki—

A hand shoves the bathroom door open, Kakashi there with sharingan open and a kunai in hand. He takes in the room quickly, and then steps in and stands in front of Iruka. “I felt killing intent,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Iruka, through a rapidly drying mouth, mutters, “Just. I think I really need to get some sleep. Sorry. Thanks for coming and checking on me.”

Kakashi slowly crosses the bathroom to him, and presses a kiss to his forehead; he says, “If you’re sure,” and then leads them out.

Iruka fights the chill that runs down his spine as he turns off the light. He lays down, rests his head on Kakashi’s shoulder, and breathes in his partner’s comforting scent. All the while, he accepts being bundled in lithe arms and a thin blanket.

“Sure I can’t reciprocate?” Kakashi asks, voice hopeful.

“Not tonight,” Iruka mutters, pressing a kiss to Kakashi’s collarbone.

Maybe, if I can get some sleep… soon

He closes his eyes and lets his breath even out.

~

Kakashi wakes to someone flaring their chakra—he’s instantly alert and hovering protectively over Iruka, reaching for the same kunai he had grabbed earlier, kept at the edge of the mattress. He takes in the room quickly, searching for the threat… and finding none.

Below him, Iruka whimpers in his sleep, and his chakra flares. Kakashi sets the kunai down and eases himself back to Iruka’s side. A glance at the alarm clock shows that they’d barely been asleep for an hour. There are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes; Kakashi carefully brushes them away.

“I’m here, love,” he murmurs. “It’s just a dream.”

He lays an arm over Iruka’s waist to draw him closer—

Iruka, still asleep, pushes back. He thrashes, grits his teeth and nearly screams; Kakashi takes his wrists to keep Iruka from hitting him.

“Iruka, dear, wake up,” he tries again. Iruka, now on his back with Kakashi hovering over him again, his wrists pinned by his head, tosses his head side to side, crying in his sleep. It makes Kakashi’s chest hurt to see his partner so scared, so pained. “Love, please; it’s just a dream, shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you—”

Iruka’s chakra flares dangerously, like it does when he’s about to activate a seal. But there’s no…

That’s never stopped him before.

Kakashi flickers away from Iruka, across the room, landing in front of the closet in a crouch. Just in time, it seems—the modified barrier seal pops into place where he had just been. The seal hangs, empty, like a bubble, for two or three seconds; and then flickers away once it registers the lack of a captured chakra signature.

Iruka’s breath stutters from the bed and the crying quiets; Kakashi approaches carefully. His hands are covering his face, and he’s turned onto his side, curled gently in Kakashi’s direction.

“Iruka?”

He sniffles, curls tighter. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Are you awake?”

Iruka nods. “Gods, I hope I am.”

Kakashi frowns. “Have you been having night terrors like this since you moved in?”

Iruka doesn’t answer immediately, but eventually shrugs. He takes his hands away from his face. “Not always… like that. Sometimes I remember the dreams. Those times are worse, honestly.”

“You don’t remember what happened just now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “Just the fear. The horrible, overwhelming fear.”

Kakashi sits on the bed beside Iruka and lays a hand on his shoulder. “What do you dream about, when you remember?”

“I… Kakashi, I’m just tired, can we do this tomorrow?”

“Not if you’re just going to have another nightmare or night terror as soon as you fall back asleep.” Kakashi usually wouldn’t press, but that… that honestly shook him a bit, seeing Iruka in the throes of his night terror. Talking about it won’t make it magically go away, but maybe Kakashi can help ease his mind a little.

Iruka sighs. “It’s so stupid.”

“Love.”

“Just. It’s Sato, okay? I don’t know, a change of scenery and now I’m just. Thinking about it again.”

Kakashi glowers. He leans down and presses a harsh kiss to Iruka’s hair, his temple, gently nudges him to his back so he can reach the rest of his jaw and face. “We never have to worry about that again.”

“I know.”

“I’ll never let that happen to you again.”

“Don’t promise me that,” Iruka says. “You can’t promise me that.”

“I’ll promise you what I need to to make you feel safe.”

“Promise to try your best. Promise to do everything you can.” Iruka sniffles, and wipes at his face, and then with his other hand he carefully cups Kakashi’s face. “I love you, but you can’t always be at my side. You can’t promise to keep me perfectly safe; that’s not how the world works.”

Kakashi leans into Iruka’s hand, turns his face and kisses his palm. “I’ll keep you in one of your own barrier seals if I have to,” Kakashi whispers with a grin, knowing Iruka will hear the humor in his voice.

Iruka, indeed, chuckles. “If you can even use them.” He tugs on Kakashi’s hand, and Kakashi comes back to lay down next to him. “I don’t remember having more than one dream each night,” he mutters. “We should be okay for the rest of the night.”

Kakashi hums and leans his head on Iruka’s chest. His pulse is finally settling down. He closes his eyes again and falls back asleep to Iruka pushing fingers through his hair.

~

Iruka gets the mail again the next day, finally feeling mildly refreshed after sleeping most of the night. Kakashi left before he was supposed to leave for school, so he didn’t have to explain himself at least. There’s only one letter in his box, unmarked with a forwarding stamp and in a standard white envelope, not the blue ones in which utility bills are sent. It’s been twelve days in this new place; maybe it’s from his landlady. She mentioned sending her tenants bills for rent around mid-month, to remind them to pay by the first.

It’s not.

He gets inside, and the letter is return-addressed from the Konoha prison. Iruka leans his back against a wall and scrubs a hand down his face. Looks at the letter in his hand, then to the ceiling, and back to the letter.

He puts it down on the kitchen table. This is going to need some pre-emptive cleaning.

After the kotatsu has been vacuumed and the quilt changed, all the floors swept and mopped, and every piece of wooden furniture Iruka owns has been polished—only then does he dare look at the contents of the letter, undoubtedly from Mizuki.

He takes it in quickly. And then he drops the paper and slides back out of his chair and turns to tuck his face into the sink to throw up.

Mizuki wants him to visit. For a conjugal visit, specifically.

He can’t… he can’t keep this to himself now.

He rinses his mouth, gathers his wits and the letter, and then also grabs the letter from under the table in the genkan. He takes his time putting his vest and hitai-ate on.

Iruka heaves a sigh, and leaves his home.

Rikona-sensei said he can visit anytime in an emergency. This… this feels like an emergency. He feels floaty and loose, like he could slip away and dissociate at any time. He hopes he makes it to the hospital first.

~

Kakashi is just about to take the mission scroll from Tsunade when a rapid, unrepentant knocking comes on the office doors. Tsunade motions for Shizune to let whoever it is in, and keeps holding the scroll out for Kakashi regardless.

“My apologies, Tsunade-sama,” the hospital messenger says, bowing deeply. Then, she turns to Kakashi and says, “I have a message for you, Kakashi-san.”

Kakashi turns and gives the messenger his attention, leaving the scroll hanging from Tsunade’s fingers. “Go ahead.”

“As of 14:21 today, Umino Iruka has checked himself into mental health crisis care with Rikona-sensei. He’s listed you as his emergency contact for the duration of his stay.”

Kakashi dropped his hand away from the scroll. “I’m needed elsewhere,” he says, and waits only until Tsunade gives him a single nod before jumping out of the window and bounding across the village to the hospital.

What the fuck happened between last night and this afternoon that Iruka felt the need to-to—

He should have stayed. He should have slept in, should have held him longer, tighter. Whatever happened, Kakashi could have stopped it. Could have prevented it.

...Right?

He stops at the front doors and walks in, waving to the nurses at the administration desk while he moves to the stairs. Rikona-sensei’s office is on the third floor, along with the rest of the mental health clinic.

When he gets there, it’s quiet. Not many people use the mental health services the village has, himself included. But there are a smattering of civilians, and a single pre-teen genin bouncing her knee anxiously while she sits in a corner. The admission desk has a receptionist filing paperwork in manila folders. Kakashi taps on the desk to get her attention.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks.

“No,” he says, “I’m here to see Rikona-sensei about my partner, Umino—”

“Rikona-sensei is in crisis management right now and is unreachable,” the receptionist drawls. “If you want to leave a message I’ll see that she gets it as soon as she’s available.”

“Miss.”

“Hmm?”

“Please look at me.”

She rolls her eyes behind her glasses, tosses pale blonde hair back over her shoulder, and picks up her chin to finally look at him. Her eyes bulge and her mouth drops open—just a bit, just enough to notice.

“Hatake-sama,” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“I’m here. To see my partner, Umino Iruka. He’s with Rikona-sensei. Please, could you point me in the right direction, that I could go see him?”

She visibly collects herself, and then says, “I’m very sorry, Hatake-sama. But Umino-sensei is in crisis. That means he can’t be disturbed until Rikona-sensei gives him a clean bill of health, or unless the Hokage overrides and calls him to service.” She ducks her head and pulls out a folder, opening and seeming to reference it. “He did list you as an emergency contact, so if his health takes a turn for the worse you’ll be notified, and if he becomes unable to make decisions regarding his own care you’ll be brought in to conference with Rikona-sensei to decide the direction of his treatment. Until then, the best thing you can do is be patient and wait for a messenger.”

Kakashi sighs. It was worth a shot.

He shrugs, and turns away. He takes a careful, chakra-enhanced sniff; Iruka’s scent is faint, but here, and tinged with fear-sweat. Kakashi leaves the clinic waiting room like he’s going to follow the receptionist’s instructions, and once he’s in the hallway he ducks out a window and walks along the outside of the building until he comes to the window where Iruka’s scent is strongest.

He stays beside it, not daring to look inside yet. The fear-scent lingers in the air here. Rikona must have aired out the room recently.

Kakashi flares his chakra, knowing that Iruka will feel it.

…

And then a small flicker comes back in return, and Kakashi can breathe easy again.

~

“I need. I need to know how he found me.”

“As soon as you’re calm, I will find that out for you,” Rikona says.

She closes the window and sits back down beside him. He'd needed air flow just a minute ago, but now that the panic threat has passed, he asked her to close it again.

He should have grabbed his fūinjutsu kit before leaving the house. He needs to seal the room.

“I am as calm as I'm going to get,” Iruka says.

“You have been having a moderate anxiety attack since we settled in this room. You are safe here.”

“I was supposed to be safe at home!”

“Iruka-sensei, please. I understand your frustration, but yelling is only going to work yourself up even more. You need to settle yourself.”

“When can I see Kakashi?”

“When you’re out of crisis.”

Iruka gets up and paces the width of the small office. “What if. What if he never stopped.”

“Iruka—”

“What if he has other people following me, watching me. ‘Did you really think leaving would rid you of me.’ Of course not,” Iruka laughs. “Of course he wouldn’t let me just-just move—”

“Mizuki is in prison. He has had no control over you for years, if he ever had any at all,” Rikona says. “Moving was a choice you made, not only to get away from the memories of Mizuki in your old apartment, but there were other reasons, were there not?”

Iruka pants, his rant having been halted but his heart still pounding. He stops his pacing and taps his fingers against crossed arms. “I… yeah, but—”

“What were those reasons?”

“I really don’t—”

“Saying them aloud again would be beneficial. Please, sit. Fidget, if you must. But sit.”

Iruka takes the other chair and faces the window. Drumming his fingers along his arm and fighting back a flush, he says, “Naruto is going to need a bigger room when he comes home.”

“That’s right. What else?”

“Kakashi likes to cook, and my old kitchen wasn’t… he commented that it didn’t have a lot of counter space.”

“And the new house, you made sure it has plenty of space in the kitchen for your partner.”

“He loves the new kitchen,” Iruka says.

“Anything else?”

“The yard.” Iruka stops fidgeting, shifting forward to put his elbows on his knees. “Kakashi’s ninken ran laps around it the first day for three hours. The whole pack. They’re so sweet. You know they call me ‘Boss’s Boss’?”

Rikona laughs. “High praise, I’m sure.”

“Kakashi hates it,” Iruka chuckles along softly. “He was like, ‘My boss is the Hokage?!’ and Pakkun—he’s the pack beta, I think?—he says, ‘yeah, for missions. At home, Sensei’s Boss.��”

Rikona reaches out for his wrist. He lets her touch his pulse quietly for a few seconds. She smiles.

“Keep going. You’re doing great.”

Iruka leaves his hand palm up on his lap within easy reach. With his other hand he rubs at his scar. “It just… it felt like the time. I’d been in that apartment since after the Kyūbi attack. Mizuki moved out as soon as he could, but I… I stayed. I liked the stability. Until I was chūnin it was subsidized by the village, so I could spend my money how I needed instead of worrying about rent. Now, though…”

“Now?”

Iruka sucks in a breath. “Now I’m moving forward. I have Naruto when he comes home, and I have a place for him when he gets here. And… and if I’m ever ready to take the step to ask Kakashi to move in with me, I’ve already secured a house that I know he likes.”

“You’re providing for your future. That’s amazing progress.”

“But Mizuki—”

“Is behind bars in the village prison. He is not a threat.” Rikona takes his wrist again, frowns, and says, “I want you to say that aloud for me.”

“He sent me letters. He knows where I live. The prison shouldn’t have been updated on my address change before the post office—”

“Deep breaths. I understand your concern, and I will help you figure out what has happened. But Mizuki is not a threat. He is in prison. I want you to say that.”

Iruka hugs himself with his free arm. “Mizuki is not a threat. He’s in prison.”

“Can you trust in our system?”

“Yes, but—”

A brief flare of chakra interrupts his thought. He knows that chakra. He fights the smile that tries to creep onto his face.

“But?”

Kakashi

He can see Kakashi once he’s out of crisis

“Yes, I’m sorry.” He flickers his chakra, directing it to the window. “I’m. Yes. Okay. Please, just… I need to know how he found me.”

Rikona nods, and takes his wrist again. She smiles. “I’m going to get you some medicine, to help keep you relaxed. And then we’ll go see Tsunade-sama.”

She leaves and locks the door behind her from the outside, like he’s not a shinobi and doesn’t know how to pick a lock. Once she’s gone, he darts over to the window and opens it. He sticks his head out and looks to each side, but Kakashi’s not—

“Hello, Love.”

He smiles and turns his face skywards. Kakashi holds himself to the hospital wall with one hand and both feet, and then eases his way down to the open windowsill and perches on the edge. Iruka backs up and makes room, but doesn’t let Kakashi come into the office.

“Are you alright?” Kakashi asks.

Iruka’s instinct is to say that he’s fine, and he opens his mouth to say it; but a glance at the deeply worried look in Kakashi’s eye changes his mind. “Not… no.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Don’t do anything rash?”

“Don’t do… Iruka, what happened?” Kakashi's eye turns dark and he lifts his palm to press along Iruka’s cheek.

He shakes his head. “Please, just—”

“No, Iruka.”

He is stopped, both of Kakashi’s hands on his face now.

“You. You’re in crisis management. I’m not even supposed to be here, not even allowed to see you yet. You don’t—you don’t get to just tell me to hold off, or stay back. I’m here to help you. Please, gods, let me help.”

Did you really think leaving would rid you of me

Sucking someone else off doesn't mean I don’t still own you

…Conjugal visit…

“I need to do this myself, Kakashi,” Iruka murmurs. He leans forward to press their foreheads together and continues, “Just keep… keep being steady for me. I need you to be a safe, sturdy place for me to fall in case this all goes wrong.”

Kakashi whines softly. “I don’t like it. I want to help.”

“You are helping.”

“More. I need to help you more.”

“Kiss me?”

Kakashi doesn’t take down his mask, but presses their lips together anyway. Iruka melts into the kiss regardless, and then trails his mouth up to Kakashi’s eye and kisses his brow.

“Please trust me. I’ll tell you everything once it’s over.”

“I do trust you.” Kakashi sighs. “Please, though. If you need me, send for me. I’m going to stay in the village until you’re okay.”

Iruka nudges their noses together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turns to the door. “Rikona-sensei is coming back. I have to go.”

“Water my plants for me?”

“Of course, Love.” Kakashi leans in and kisses him once more, and then falls off of the windowsill. Iruka watches him go, crossing his arms and resting his shoulder against the open window.

The office door opens and Rikona comes in. In one hand she holds a cup of water, and in the other a small orange pill. “Are you ready, Iruka-sensei?”

He sighs quietly, and closes the window, then turns to her. He takes the pill, drinks the entire cup of water, and then sighs, “Yes. Lead the way, please.”

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

Session 1

The Joker x Gull Hagley

Word Count: 1165

Tag List: @heavenshipped @the-schizotypal-cryptid @fangedwife @ghostlyvenus-selfships

Summary: Gull Hagley gets a job as a psychologist at Arkham Asylum after a few years of retirement. For the most part, his patients are the common, mostly non-criminals... except for one. The Joker.

Warnings: Brief mention of Joker’s past psychologist, Harleen Quinzel, smoking mention at the end.

Like my writing? Consider Reblogging 🔁 or leaving a nice Comment 💬 when you can! Thank you!

Gull Hagley had worked as a psychiatrist for many years before taking a break from the profession when it began to wear him down. He lived in peaceful retirement until an old colleague of his told him about a job opening in Arkham, Gotham City’s notorious insane asylum; the place they kept the worst of the worst, when it came to criminals. None of it intimidated Gull, however. He’d seen a lot in his day.

“Why do you want this job?” The interviewer had asked. Gull smiled crookedly, resting an elbow on the desk and resting his chin in his open palm.

“Truthfully, retirement’s just been too damn serene. I had my fun ignoring the atrocities around me, but when you live in Gotham you may as well learn to embrace the darkness as part of your life.”

Within a few weeks, Gull got his placement and his first few patients. Mostly standard mental patients, not those big-league criminals, it was quite boring and predictable… until he came across a familiar face in his files. The Joker. Surely, it was a mistake, but maybe the higher-ups were humoring his experience. He showed the file to a fellow doctor;

“So, does he come to me, or do I go to him?”

“You go to him, under heavy observation, no doubt. You know what happened to the last one.”

“Poor Harleen,” Gull sympathized. He had heard the story, being fascinated and chilled by it. The Joker was no joke. But Gull was different from Harleen Quinzel, or rather, Harley Quinn, so he supposed he had some sort of advantage… wasn’t like he’d do something as unprofessional as being charmed and courted by his patient.

He arrived at The Joker’s cell, teeming with guards. Gull swallowed, psyching himself up for the difficult task ahead, before entering. There had only been one person Joker had opened up to, and it had all been lies from the beginning. He couldn’t trust anything, and yet he had to explain to his directors why Joker is the way he is.

“Afternoon,” he greeted, pulling up a metal chair. Joker sat on his bed, wrapped in a straightjacket. “I’m Gull Hagley, I’ll be your new psychiatrist.”

The mad clown leered at his new doctor. “Is that what time it is? Well, besides that, you don’t look much like a doctor. Get much sleep, Hagley??”

Gull admitted to himself he’d never been good at making himself pleasing to look at. His chin was scruffy and his eyes sagged with dark bags, and he never had great posture.

“Listen, when you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, you stop worrying about your appearance so much and start worrying about what the hell you’re doing with your life.” Gull shot back.

“Oooh, experienced in the disturbed?”

“I took a break. I got bored. Besides, I’m the one asking the questions, Joker.”

Joker rolled his eyes, studying the ceiling and leaning back against the wall beside his bed. “Ho-hum. You won’t get anything useful out of me,” he grinned, “but maybe you can find those marbles I lost so many years ago.”

“Uh-huh. Do you remember anything outside of crime? A name? Faces? Anything at all?”

“I’ve used the name Jack Napier before, but I doubt it means anything. Oh, believe me, I certainly tried to find out who I was at one point… I gave up searching because it’s more fun being who I am in the present!”

“Fun. You find pleasure in what you do?”

“Of course! Isn’t it obvious?”

“What would you say are your motivators? Outside of fun and chaos.”

“No, no, that’s about it. Rules are meant to be broken, we’d all get along so much better if we broke a few rules…” His voice dipped, “and a few bones, every once in a while.”

“Elaborate.”

Joker sighed dramatically, returning his gaze to Gull’s face. He let out a short chuckle before continuing. “Your questions entertain me. You’ve seen a lot, Gullie. I can see it in your… you. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to do more? Isn’t this a dead-end, talking to people plagued with ghosts and trauma?”

“Joker…” Gull inhaled before repeating himself, “I ask the questions. You do your best to respond. I listen to you vent. That’s how this works.”

“Poppycock. Let’s talk about something less boring! Tell me about you. I’m sure I could figure out more about you in a shorter time it’d take you to learn one personal thing about me.”

“Oh yeah? What experience do you have with psychology?”

“I’ve watched people all my life, doc!” Joker laughed. “So, not your traditional education, but I know how emotions sway people’s decisions. Even the oh-so-‘logical’ Batman is weak to feelings. It’s nearly everyone’s downfall at some point or another.”

“… Are you playing with me?”

Joker shrugged. “Who’s to say I am? Who’s to say I’m not? That’s up to your own intuition, Gullie.”

“… I want to believe you. Your words wouldn’t be illogical. You use emotions and knee-jerk reactions to your advantage all the time, especially when intimidation is involved.”

“Don’t flatter me too much, it may go to my head!”

Gull paused. He had been taking notes the entire session, though he knew there was also audio and video recording being done with a hidden security camera.

“Tell me more about myself.” Joker hummed. “Or, what you perceive as myself.”

“Narcissist much?” Gull wisecracked. Joker laughed.

“See, you’re not this uptight thing you’re trying to persuade me you are! Have fun with it, Gullie, you won’t be here for long anyway. If you don’t make headway with me, they’ll either send you back to the common patients, or they’ll fire you entirely.”

“Let me propose that question to you. What do you perceive me as?”

Joker leaned forward, looking deeper into Gull.

“I see a tired little man who needs a single reason to say ‘screw it,’ and leave this entire life behind.” Joker started coldly. “Your sanity is tied with thin threads. A few more nights of chugging coffee and staring at a static TV screen and you might just snap. I will happily watch and encourage the spiral.”

The men’s faces were inches away from each other, now. Joker popped up and placed a quick kiss on Gull’s forehead before falling back onto his bed in a laughing fit.

“Session is up.” A guard reminded Gull from the door. Bewildered, Gull stood.

“Er. Goodbye, Joker.”

“Goodbye, Gullie! I can’t wait to see you again!~” Joker called between cackles as Gull left the room.

“How was it?” His coworker asked when he returned to the personal offices. Gull gestured to the faint lipstick mark on his forehead.

“He kissed me.”

The coworker stared at the mark. “I… hm.”

“Yeah. We had an interesting conversation, I guess, I don’t really know if it got us anywhere… well, just see for yourself.” Gull handed his coworker his notes. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 3

previous | next

series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 3.9k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | here we gooooo!! part threeeee c: can’t believe I actually churned this out when my life has been in c h a o s also this is barely edited im so sorry

Percussive knocks rap crisply on your apartment door. You fling the door open and your heart leaps in your chest at the sight. There he stands.

Up and rising dance instructor. Groove personified. Ball of literal sunshine.

And in your experience, the best big brother on the planet.

The overnight bag hits the wooden floor with a hollow thud as he abandons it in favor of yanking you into a tight embrace. A grin widens on your face that you're certain mirrors his.

"Hoseok," you breathe into his chest, your face smushed against his oversized yellow shirt. The enveloping warmth of his arms around you has you melting. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. Let me take a good look at you." He puts you at arm's length. "You've grown so much in the time we've been apart."

"Hoseok." You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. "It's only been a month."

"Hey. A lot happens in a month."

The truth of his words, unknown to him but oddly relevant nonetheless, has you biting your lip before you can stop yourself.

"Here, I'll help you with your bag," you say, hauling the duffel bag off the ground, giving you something else to look at. You can only hope that Hoseok hasn't already picked up on the nervous blips. "It's been a long ride for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead," he jokes, but follows after you without further comment. Guess you're in the clear.

But you steer the conversation to a topic that you know will engross him for sure. Y’know. Just in case.

"So, what classes did you sign up for this weekend?" you ask over your shoulder, managing a tone so casual that you celebrate internally.

"You'll never believe it.” The words come tumbling out, voice shimmering with excitement. Even without turning to look at him, you can picture the way his eyes are surely set alight. You know this tone, and it has you hooked now, the anticipation of amazing news builds in your chest. "Y'know that choreographer, Jo? The one that's completely booked out every single weekend?”

You nod quickly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Well.” The smugness in his tone is thick. “Guess who got a slot for her class!”

Genuine surprise elicits a gasp from you. "No way! How'd you even manage that?"

"Hard work and sheer determination.” A fist pump punctuates his words. “I camped on the booking site on multiple devices with multiple accounts so I could snag a spot the moment the slots open."

You snort at his antics.

"I can't believe I'm going to be learning from such a giant in the industry," he says, unable to resist breaking into a little dance as he pushes the door to the study cum guest room open. "It feels like I've won the freaking lottery."

The effervescent excitement is uncontainable. Even the task of unpacking can’t interrupt his rave about the choreographer who shot to cyber fame with her fluid movements. You let him let it loose, leaning against the doorway, watching him.

"Ok," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "That's enough about me. How did your lecture go today?"

The breath catches in your lungs, the shock of seeing Namjoon coming back in a second wave.

“It was alright,” you attempt to mask it in the same casual tone you mustered up just minutes ago. But there’s an unmistakable tightness to your words.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into you. Damn. There’s no escaping now.

“____?” he probes, his tone laced with the same concern lying in his gaze.

"Hey, um," you rub at your arms, "we have an unexpected dinner guest tonight. Is that ok with you?"

“____,” he repeats, firmer this time. “What happened?"

You exhale heavily, grounding yourself with the feel of the carpet underneath your scrunched up toes as you tell him, "I bumped into Joon today. At the lecture."

Chancing a glance at him to gauge his reaction, you watch as he schools his features into an expressionless mask. But his eyes widen by just a fraction, betraying his surprise as he processes the information.

After a second, he nods stiffly, and turns back to the duffel bag on the bed to take the last of his belongings out. His tone is measured and even as he asks, "How was it?"

The plush mattress provides you marginal comfort as you plop onto the bed next to him.

"Honestly? Like a punch in the gut." The laugh that escapes you is bitter. "When will I stop being winded just by the mere sight of him, Hobi?"

The smile he shoots you is empathetic but sad. He reaches over to muss up your hair, the action tender and fond. "It'll happen in time," he promises.

The restrictive tightness in your chest is uncomfortable and you attempt to expel it in a sigh as you lean backwards, propped up by the elbow. Staring at your toes as if they’re a source of endless fascination gives you an excuse not to look your brother in the eye.

“But would you care to explain what convinced you to invite him to dinner?”

“Hobi… I just…” Your back hits the mattress as you flop back entirely, groaning up at the ceiling. No choice but to spit the truth out now. “His eyes, they just do things to me.”

Craning your neck to look at him, regret hits you when you catch sight of his frown. You drop your head back down. The ceiling's a much better option to look at.

“You have a soft spot for him.” It’s less a question and more a statement. A statement that you assent to with a strangled noise.

“Look. I get it. It’s just, I worry for you. The state you were in when you came back that night…” This time, he lets out a sigh of his own. The bed shifts, accommodating his weight where he takes a seat next to you. "You were a wreck, ____.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I don't want to have to relive those days.”

He’s not speaking out of turn. Guilt gnaws at you and you turn your head to face the wall. Bringing Namjoon back into your life implicated Hoseok too. Your brokenness had not been yours to bear alone. On the nights when you felt like you were falling apart, it was your brother who’d held you as you sobbed damp spot after damp spot into his t-shirts.

“Do you think it's too soon?” Your voice sounds small even in your ears. “Even though it's been years?”

“I can’t answer that for you, ____.”

You remain quiet, still staring at the blank wall.

“Well." He slaps his hands on his thighs and hauls himself off the bed, breaking the silence. "I owe him a long overdue meet-up anyway. He's been bugging me to have a meal together with him for the longest time now- which is next to impossible, y’know, with the way the studio just keeps getting busier and busier.”

A hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and waiting. "Dinner?"

You grasp it and he pulls you up. His grip is a firm anchor, both physically and emotionally.

"Dinner," you echo. "I can do this."

You can’t do this.

Whatever idealism you had possessed an hour ago within the safe confines of your apartment was gone now, mellowed out and boiled down to unforgiving reality.

At least you have Hoseok.

Despite your earlier hesitation to tell your brother about the events that had transpired through the day, you're now relieved you did and infinitely thankful for his presence. If any iciness remains from whatever lingering unsaid tension that exists between you and Namjoon, it quickly melts away under the warmth that is Hoseok's affability.

It was awkward at first, no doubt. As you slid into the booth to sit across Namjoon, it definitely didn’t escape your attention how he was unable to keep eye contact with you, his shifty eyes stoking the nervousness that simmered in the pit of your stomach.

The conversation had been polite but stiff, filled with small talk about each other’s jobs. As if you didn’t already know all about how he’d made it as a published author from all the times you eavesdropped on Hobi’s phone calls. He was in the middle of narrating his book’s main plot when your mind’s eye jumped, involuntarily, to the books guiltily buried away in the corner of your closet underneath a bunch of t-shirts. It was an impulse buy, you lie to yourself.

Yes, you’ve read his books. Multiple times. Pored over every word and analyzed every character in search of snippets of yourself. Hoping to know whether he’s forgotten you and moved on from you or whether he’s still affected by the breakup in the same way you don’t dare to admit that you are.

But that’s just in your times of weakness. Everyone has those, you reason, and you’re allowed to too.

Make no mistake- you did get over Namjoon. The box of letters sits in your desk drawer as the fruits of that. There’s a reason why you can’t bring yourself to dump those letters out after all these years. They’re unfiltered and ugly and raw, but they’re an archive of the journey you went through. You’re over it.

Or you were over it. Being in this city and seeing him triggers something in you and seems to throw you back a couple of steps somehow.

Maneuvering your way through the exchange, carefully feigning ignorance about the plot of his novels, you were walking a tightrope. But thankfully, before you could get caught in your self-spun web of lies, the conversation takes a sharp left.

In a sudden outburst of, “Why are we speaking as if we’re at some corporate networking event?!” accompanied by a smack on the table, Hoseok shattered the cordial but fake and, frankly, uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the booth. The three of you broke into genuine laughter for the first time in the evening. And finally, the dinner conversation took a more casual and informal turn.

In spite of your wariness, the pull that Hoseok’s words exerted was irresistible and you found yourself gradually loosening up. It began with unbidden smiles that progressed to quiet giggles- not unlike the one that followed Hoseok’s earlier outburst- that quickly gave way to carefree and unfiltered laughter.

And now?

"Remember when you broke the swingset at our house?" Hoseok jabs his fork at Namjoon who sits across from him at the table.

"That was not on me,” he quips. “That swingset was rickety before I sat on it."

Your throat constricts around your food slightly painfully with the way you gulp down your food to interject, "No way, Joon. We only had that swingset for two weeks before you broke it."

Hoseok nods in corroboration, his features colored in a grave seriousness. “She’s right. I remember my joy on that swingset being extremely short-lived.”

"Can't believe you care more about that swingset than me." Namjoon pouts. "My butt was bruised for at least a week from that accident."

But Hoseok dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "Bruises heal. Swingsets don't."

You smile around the rim of your glass, taking a swig. Cheeks sore with how much you’ve been smiling, you think, you really can’t do this.

You've missed this. You’ve missed the days filled with this innocent and untroubled feeling of happiness. When it was just this pair of best friends and you were the little sister that just tagged along at first, but got pulled in as a real member of the trio. You were the little sister that Hobi adored, and the little sister that Joon had always wished he'd had, and you looked up to both of them so much.

The playful teasing between mouthfuls of food and the easy laughter shared as all three of you let loose over a couple drinks has you warming up in a way that's not just from the alcohol.

You’ve missed this. But you can’t.

You glance upwards and the softness in Namjoon’s eyes all crinkled up by his beaming smile has you realizing just how much you’ve missed him. But you can’t, you can’t, you ca-

Next to you, Hoseok’s movements interrupt your internal self-admonishment. He sets his utensils down with a clang on his empty plate. "Hey, I’ll go pick up the bill."

"Let me." Namjoon fumbles for his wallet as he gets on his feet. But Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder to sit him back down.

"Nah man, you paid the last time and I've been meaning to give ____ a treat too. This one's on me."

Hoseok disappears off to settle the bill, leaving just you and Namjoon. In stark contrast to his earlier inability to maintain eye contact, he’s now staring intently at you. The intensity of his gaze has your cheeks growing warm.

It’s your turn to struggle with eye contact. Unsure what to do with your hands or where to look, you're just about to succumb to the urge to start fidgeting when Namjoon sighs, inciting a stolen glance at him. His gaze is on his hands now where they sit on the table, a gentle smile gracing his features.

"I've missed this,” he says softly.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

"Me too," you admit. You’re weak.

His gaze darts back upwards to look you in the eyes, and your heart rate picks up.

“I've missed you.”

It’s shy. It’s barely audible. But you catch it. It startles your heart into a racing pulse, pounding in your ribcage.

"Namjoon.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly at how you revert to his full name. “You can't-"

He leans forward as he shakes his head. "I'm not... I..." He cuts himself off with a huff of frustration. His long fingers tap rapidly on the table the way they always do when he’s collecting his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry for what happened, ____.” His eyes bore into yours with a pleading sincerity that has your hands fidgeting under the table and out of sight. “I'm really sorry that things ended the way they did. And I know I don't deserve to be asking this, ____. But I've really missed... all this." He gestures to the booth, to your trio. "And I guess what I'm asking is, will you forgive me? And... will it be okay to see you again? Just as friends. Nothing more."

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You fold your hands in your lap, still hidden away from sight so he can’t see the nervous energy they exude as you deliberate your next words carefully.

"Joon, you really hurt me the last time. Really deeply.” The temptation to avert your gaze is immense, but you power through. But that leaves you to witness the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And as nice as tonight was, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to have you back in my life completely yet."

“Ok, I understand. That's fair. I have no rights to make any demands on you when things ended the way they did.”

His eyes are downcast and he trails off into silence.

But just as you’re about to heave a sigh of relief, thinking he’s dropped it, he starts again, the hesitation clear in his shaky voice, "Can I give you my number? So you can think it over and text me if you ever want to be friends again. Like what you said, tonight was really nice."

His hand hovers over where your phone sits on the table, tentative without your go-ahead.

“Or you can just decide to throw it out and delete me from your life forever,” he begins rambling nervously. “I'll respect that too. I just can't leave things the way they are without doing anything I can to attempt to make reconciliation happen.”

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eye. The way he's looking at you…

You can’t. Or can you?

Like what you told Hoseok, you’re close to powerless when Namjoon looks at you like that.

Relenting, you flip his hand around and place your phone into his waiting palm.

"Okay. Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you,” he says breathily. His dimpled smile and eyes aglow send your heartbeat stuttering.

As Namjoon's keying his phone number into your phone, Hoseok returns. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him, and the way he eyes your phone in Namjoon's hands has you squirming in your seat slightly. But Namjoon, gleeful with the hope of possible reconciliation, is none the wiser.

You, meanwhile, know that you’re in for a lot of explaining.

“It’s just a number, Hoseok,” you say the moment the subway pulls out of the station and away from Namjoon’s waving figure. It’s been sitting heavy on your tongue ever since the restaurant, and you take the first chance you get to spit it out. Never has the walk from the diner to the station felt so long.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” you fold your arms, stumbling slightly on the rickety carriage, but you maintain your indignant expression, “but your look said everything.”

You exhale heavily as you grip back onto the grab pole. You continue, softer this time, “He’s just asking to be friends.”

Hoseok purses his lips and the silence sits for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just… a lot. What happened between us was a lot.”

You clear your throat and continue, “But the years of friendship in our little trio were a lot too. And tonight was a huge reminder of how good things used to be… of how good things could be.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” You repeat, looking back at Hoseok now. “What should I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.”

What a classic Hoseok response. Why did you even ask?

“He’s genuinely sorry,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to your brother.

“He is,” Hoseok affirms, his eyes softening now as he nods in agreement.

“And it’ll be just friends, nothing more.” Again, you’re not entirely sure of whether your words are meant to be consoling your brother or yourself.

“Do you want that? Being friends with him again and having him in your life again?”

Do you?

You try to consider it rationally, you really do.

But the emotions overtake you. Perhaps it’s from tonight’s dinner, a sampling of what it’d be like to have him as a friend again. Perhaps it’s the recognition of how wasteful it truly is to dump decades of friendship out the window.

Or perhaps it’s the revelation that you could never be angry with Namjoon, as much as you want to be. And you really want to be. He deserves it. After the way he let your relationship end without putting up a fight, after he left you shattered and the way you had to piece yourself back together shard by shard in the aftermath, he deserves your wrath.

But you can’t do it.

Especially not now when his repentance is so sincere. Not when he’s earnestly trying to make things right.

So do you want him back in your life? It’s irrational, it’s dumb, it’s risky, but you honestly could never help yourself when it comes to Namjoon.

“Yes,” you decide. “I’ve missed him, Hobi. I know it’s dumb to miss him after all these years and after what he did, but I still do.”

Hoseok slings an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” he says, and you snort as you swat at his chest. “But if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel.”

“It’s been so strange,” comes your quiet admission. “He’s just always been there, y’know? And not having him around feels like having a limb missing.”

“Mmhm.” It’s barely a sound, but you know it’s Hoseok’s way of saying he understands, and it fills you with a deep sense of assurance and validation.

The train pulls to a stop, and you realize with a jolt that it’s your station. Reluctantly, you pull away from the hug and tug Hoseok out the doors. “C’mon.”

The apartment is just a few streets down from the station and, with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, your fists rubbing against the rough denim, you walk along silently. The sound of Hoseok’s footsteps beside you fades into rhythmical ambient noise the deeper you fall into thought.

It’s when you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, keys jangling, that Hoseok asks the very same question that you’ve been mulling over on the walk back.

“Can you forgive him?”

It’s surprising. Even to you. You always imagined it’d play out in either one of two ways- cutting words or punishing silence. But now that the moment has really arrived, you realize just how willing you are to extend forgiveness to him.

“I think I have to,” you begin slowly. “Not for him, but for me, y’know?” You nod, your certainty growing as you verbalize your thoughts. “Yeah. I have to do this. It’s getting tiring carrying all this resentment and bitterness around.”

The lock clicks open and you move to enter the apartment.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on your shoulder gently that has you pausing. “Whatever decision you make, just know that I support you.”

You wrap your brother in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Hobi. That means a lot to me.”

Rolling over to switch your alarm off, you nestle back under the covers to catch a few more winks.

That’s when it all comes rushing back to you, and your initial plan to snooze is screwed. Did all that really happen? Did you really sit down to have dinner with Namjoon?

And did you really not reject his attempt at a peace offering? Young ____ would be so disappointed.

It feels a little unbelievable. I mean, sure, you’ve run into him more than a couple of times now. But never would you have imagined you would have him truly in your life again.

That is- if you would let him in. You haven’t replied to him, wanting to sleep on your decision for extra clarity.

Clarity, your ass. Through the thick fog of heavy sleep, it all feels like it could be nothing more than a fever dream.

But you can hear Hoseok’s snoring coming from the next room. And the memories of last night- the yellow lighting of the diner, the overly salty fries you kept picking at regardless, the jab of Hobi’s elbow into your side as he teased you, the way your sides ached from laughing so hard, the way those obsidian eyes pulled you in as they set on you from across the table- they’re too vivid to be made up.

And the one thing that will conclusively prove it- you prop yourself up to scroll through your contacts list. There. Sitting in your contacts is his name. The name you’d deleted off your phone all those years ago in a fit of anger, but now restored to its rightful place.

[8.03am] ____: hey joon, it’s ____.

You chew on your lip as you type and delete and re-type and repeat.

[8.07am] ____: do you have any plans for today? wanna do something?

[darks-ink]

Commission for @kaiofficialdp, featuring Dan and their OC Kai. Thank you Tumblr for eating the linebreak, please don’t do it again when I go to post this please

---

Kai slowed his already casual flight as his eye caught on a speck of sharply contrasting white and black. Neither of those colors were rare in the wastelands around Amity Park, but together? Together, they were most commonly found on Dan.

He steered towards the speck. And, as he had expected, found Dan. The ghost was sitting on the edge of some ruins that Kai didn’t care to identify. Dan’s posture, slumped forward and leaning his elbows on his knees, with his face down-turned, suggested that he was moping.

Or so Kai thought, at least, until he came closer. Now he could more clearly see the set of Dan’s shoulders, the tenseness in his muscles, the emotional flickering of his hair. Even with his face hidden from Kai, it was clear that Dan wasn’t just moping. No, he was genuinely distressed.

Well, he can’t let that lie, can he? If something was serious enough to distress Dan, maybe Kai could help.

Touching down on the same crumbling ruins as Dan was sitting on, Kai landed almost silently, bar the quiet patter of debris stirred by his boots. Dan didn’t respond in the least, but this was not particularly surprising, as very little in the wastelands was a threat to him.

“Dan,” Kai greeted him, crouching down next to Dan. He only got a grunt in response.

“You look…” Kai paused, digging for the right word, “…troubled. You look troubled, Dan.”

A black gloved hand flapped vaguely in his direction. “It’s nothing,” Dan hissed back, but it felt dispassionate, without heat.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Kai countered, narrowing his eyes. “Tell me what happened. Was it Valerie? Something in Amity?”

Dan snarled, his lip curling, then shook his head. Remained quiet.

Kai sighed, placed his own gloved hands on the edge of the ruins, and kicked his feet out in front of him, sitting down next to Dan. The dust would doubtlessly stain his black coat, but that was easy enough to fix later.

“What can I do to help?” he prodded, since Dan still hadn’t answered his prior question. What could possibly stop that ghost from answering?

Dan just sighed, deeply and heavily, before flapping his hand at Kai again. “Go away.”

Now that was just weirdly out of character for Dan. Kai wavered for a moment before setting his shoulders and, unable to meet Dan’s eye, settled for staring at him earnestly. “No. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Dan said, after a long pause. “Nothing new.”

Kai clenched his jaw, but Dan still didn’t look up at him, and likely didn’t even realize. “So it’s something old?” He wasn’t sure what to do with that information. If something had just happened, he could help, could maybe fix it or something. But something in the past? That had never bothered Dan before.

Or had he just kept it hidden from Kai?

Dan sniffed, twisting his head towards Kai, finally. His red eyes were narrowed, his mouth drawn in a grimace, fangs glinting in the low light. “You’re still not leaving?”

“I wanted to help,” Kai countered, shifting slightly to sit more comfortably. “And that’s still true. If it’s something in the past I probably can’t change it, but talking about it might help.”

He got a skeptical snort in return for that. “It happened a decade ago,” Dan said, faux casually. “I highly doubt that you could change that.”

Well, fair enough. “Talk about it, then,” Kai insisted. Even if he wasn’t the best at emotional stuff, he could at least sit down and listen. That alone might help some.

“It’s stupid.” Dan grunted, as if displeased with himself. “It happened so long ago. What’s the point of all this if I’m feeling emotional about it now?”

“Sometimes it takes a little time for something to settle in,” Kai offered, but it felt silly even to himself. That usually meant hours, or perhaps days. He couldn’t imagine it taking years, but, well, he wasn’t exactly an expert, was he?

Dan snorted, clearly just as convinced as Kai himself was.

“I thought I had gotten away from it all,” Dan finally said, voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I had pushed it all away, gone through all that just to get away from this stuff. And now…” He made a sharp, derisive noise. “Now this.”

Kai cast around for the right words to use, to comfort his partner. “You can’t heal from the past just by ignoring it,” he finally settled on, fiddling with his fingers and wondering if touching Dan would help. “Tell me, Dan. Let me help.”

“All the stuff that happened years ago finally caught up to me,” Dan said, his black-clad fingers combing through his flaming hair. “Everything that I pushed away, that I thought I’d gotten over… It’s finally hitting me.”

Dan shook his head suddenly, jerkily, then snarled, “It’s hitting me again.”

---

It was stupid, was all it was. After all he’d done to separate his weak, pathetic human side, to get rid of those hindering emotions, they just came back? Absolutely ridiculous. What was the point of becoming an all-powering full ghost if he could still be haunted by his memories, by emotions he had left behind a long time ago?

Just obscene. That’s what it really was. Horrifically stupid. He was supposed to be beyond this! He had moved past it all years ago, when he split his human side away and merged with Vlad’s ghost instead. So why did it come back now? Why was he suddenly overwhelmed by events that transpired a decade ago?

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fireball that took out the Nasty Burger, and his loved ones with it. Every moment of silence was filled with the phantoms of their screams, the pressing silence that followed the explosion.

Whenever he approached Amity, his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the place where it had all happened, to the charred place that, to this day, remained untouched by Amity’s survivors.

To the statues that rested in front of it. The permanent marks of his friends, his family. Set in stone, forever the same. Unchanged and unchanging.

He made a sharp noise, aware of Kai watching him. Keen vermilion eyes were set on him, impossible to dismiss. Despite his earlier attempts at getting his partner to leave him alone, Kai insisted on being here.

Well, if he wanted to hear it so badly, why not?

“A decade ago, my family and my friends died,” Dan said, his voice low and rough. He stared ahead of himself, not meeting Kai’s eyes. “My father, my mother. My elder sister. My two closest…” He scoffed, harshly, then corrected, “My only friends.”

Kai didn’t speak, so Dan continued on. “They were at the Nasty Burger, all five of them, because of me. Do you know how much extremely flammable and explosive material they keep there?” A sharp humorless cackle. “Let me tell you, they had a lot of it! And most of it not particularly ghost-proof either! So if a ghost fight ever happened there, like for example, if amazingly heroic Danny Phantom shot a few ecto-blasts while chasing a ghost…”

Dan snapped his fingers. “Whoosh, just like that. Just one spark, and then everything goes. Like a big chain of fire and explosions.”

They sat in silence for a moment, as Dan’s mind relentlessly replayed his memories of that day. Sometimes he wished he could reach into his core and just rip out those pesky thoughts, the recordings of the whole chain of events. Why would he ever need that information, anyway? It had happened. It had led to this, to the here and now. That was all he needed to know, wasn’t it? What good was it for him to remember all of it to such a degree? To get caught up in emotions over it?

No good, that was the answer. It was absolutely pointless. If anything, it was actively harmful, a distraction and a bother.

“It’s not your fault that Nasty Burger didn’t properly secure their material,” Kai pointed out, finally, breaking Dan out of his chain of thoughts. “If they possessed material that so easily caught on fire when exposed to ecto-rays, they should have guarded it better, especially in a town such as Amity Park.”

Dan scoffed, unconvinced. “Yeah, right. The other ghost didn’t fire any rays. It was only me, and only because I was so focused on chasing ‘em. If I had held off until we were away from the restaurant, from the people… Or if I had behaved better, and none of them had come to the Nasty Burger in the first place!”

He forcibly snapped his mouth shut, teeth loudly clacking. What on Earth was he doing? Spilling emotional garbage all over his partner? Ugh. Bad enough that he was feeling these dumb emotions that he should’ve been over, but now he was spewing them at Kai as well? What was next, telling Valerie? Yikes.

“There’s no point in blaming yourself,” Kai told him, posture stiff, clearly uncomfortable with the task of making Dan feel better. “Perhaps you could have prevented it, but you can’t take the entire blame for it. And you have learned from it, haven’t you? It was a mistake, but one you won’t make again.”

“Hard to repeat it when I only had the one family to get killed,” Dan scoffed, shaking his head.

“You have me,” Kai pointed out, raising a challenging eyebrow at Dan. “Or do I not count as a loved one?”

Dan hummed at that. Well, Kai wasn’t wrong, was he? Instead of acknowledging that, however, Dan changed the topic entirely. “It’s not like I can repeat what happened afterwards, anyway. Hard to split off my ghost half when I am already full ghost.”

Kai made an agreeing sound at that. “And even if you could, where would you find a second half to stabilize yourself with?”

“Hm.” Looking back, it was rather stupid of Vlad to not have considered that. Dan hadn’t even needed to overpower the older half-ghost, as the element of surprise had been enough, both to split Vlad and to merge with the separated ghost half. “Once was enough.”

“Are you feeling better, then?” Kai leaned forward to catch Dan’s eye, but he looked away. “Now that you’ve talked?”

Dan harrumphed, unwilling to admit that it had helped at least a little. He still felt terrible, still felt haunted by the past, but… talking about it had eased the strain some. “I could’ve managed,” he retorted instead.

Kai caught his eye, staring at him intently, like he was trying to find the words to tell Dan in Dan’s own eyes. Clearly Kai didn’t know what he was doing either, struggling to find the right things to say, to find a way to comfort Dan. “You’re allowed to miss them, you know?” Kai settled on. “Even if you’ve been around so long without them, there’s nothing wrong with missing them. Acknowledging it, being willing to process the pain instead of shoving it away, that might help.”

“Oh, how would you know?” Dan dismissed with a flap of his hand. “I’ve been fine so far, and I’ll be fine for longer.”

“Will you?” Kai countered, leaning back slightly. “What do you want me to tell you instead, then? That at least your parents and friends aren’t suffering? That they would be proud of how strong you’ve become?” Kai scoffed. “That you’re better off without them holding you back?”

Dan huffed, squinting at his partner. “You’re not the type to tell me things you don’t sincerely believe.”

“Fine.” Kai shifted suddenly, standing up next to Dan. With a few short movements he dusted off his black jacket, then with a jerk, offered his gloved hand to Dan. “Come on. Moping around here clearly isn’t going to fix it.”

“And what do you plan to do instead?” Dan asked, raising an eyebrow but already extending his own hand to grasp Kai’s.

“I’m sure we could find something to do that would make you feel better,” Kai said, pulling Dan up. “Shall we?”

Dan looked at the navy fingers tangled with his own. “Yes,” he agreed. “Let’s.”

[minchanslut]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin x f!Reader

Word count: 3k

Includes sexual themes, such as: degrading, overstimulation, oral, praise kink, slight orgasm denial, dirty talk, idk dude there’s a lot

While hanging out with your friends on what was supposed to be a chill Saturday night, you ended up spouting some drunk criticism that they had not particularly taken too well. And now, a week later, you found yourself before three men whose egos had been bruised and were itching to teach you a lesson. You wanted to say that it was an honest mistake, that you were just talking crazy as a side effect from all the alcohol in your system at the time, but you couldn’t. Seeing as you had reinforced your statement a few days prior, this time while sober, there was no way they’d let you off the hook. It was also too late to play it off as a joke as they were determined to teach you a lesson. 

It all started after you had hurt their pride by accusing them of being “A bad fuck.”

This was of course a baseless accusation. You had never slept with any of the three guys in front of you. You just somehow believed that they wouldn’t exactly be the best in bed. Once those words had left your mouth they all began shouting and denying it in unison. This resulted in a brief debate in which they attempted to defend themselves, and you refusing to be convinced otherwise. It was then that Chan brought up what he described as the perfect solution, a simple and straightforward one at that. You were going to sleep with them. It was the only way that you could find out who was right, at least so he claimed. You drunkenly agreed, not thinking they’d actually go along with it, after all, they were just as intoxicated as you. Your assumption was proven wrong when you were boldly approached by Chan a few days later, asking if you were still on board. You hesitated and he noticed. He used this to his advantage to get you agitated. Knowing that you did not like to be toyed with and always needing to get the last laugh. You ended up agreeing, thinking that you refuse to lose to the likes of him, not realising that was exactly what he wanted. 

Fast forward to the following Saturday night and you were sitting on your bed, mouth agape as you tried to understand what was going on. You were aware that you had agreed to sleep with them, but you assumed that it’d be one at a time. You were only expecting to see Chan, so the presence of Minho and Changbin was not something you were prepared for. When you questioned them about it Minho spoke up, explaining that since you were so sure they’d all be very disappointing, it was only fair that they got to, quote unquote, team up. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up. You had to admit that you found the idea of all three of them taking you at the same time very arousing, but you weren’t ready to tell them that just yet. Instead you only scoffed, saying that it didn’t matter to you if you had to deal with all three of them. 

“It’ll probably just be three times as disappointing.” 

Your words definitely got their blood boiling. You smirked, leaning back on your elbows as you cocked your eyebrow before speaking. 

“So, which one of you actually has the balls to make the first move.”

Chan, bold as ever, was the first one to react. He approached you as he discarded his shirt, nestling himself between your thighs. One arm supporting his weight beside your head and the other trailing up your body, the silk fabric of your babydoll being the only thing keeping his warmth separated from yours. Soon after his hand was on your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. You captured his digit in your mouth, sucking harshly as you maintained eye contact. Chan hissed as you released this thumb from your lips with a loud pop. 

“You seem eager to have a cock in your mouth.” you can’t recall ever hearing Chan speak in such a seductive manner. The gentle touch of his hand on your face was replaced with a much rougher one, almost as if to force you to look at only him. “Who would you like to suck off first?” 

He asked before stepping away, giving you the opportunity to make a choice. You scanned over each of them and noticed that Changbin in particular seemed like he was struggling. He was looking at you with hungry eyes, his bulge prominent through his tight jeans. You needn’t say much for him to understand you, a quick glance was more than enough. You crawled over to the foot of the bed on all fours, stopping right before him as he met you halfway. He was surprisingly quiet, not speaking a word as he unbuckled his belt and tossed his jeans to the side. You started planting wet kisses on his length through the thin fabric, your hands playing with the band of his boxers. You also took the liberty of kissing up his navel before directing your attention back to his erection. Once you finally pulled his underwear down, his dick quickly sprung up, slapping against his lower abdomen. He finally spoke, seemingly have grown tired of your slow and steady approach. 

“Fuck, just do something already.” 

No further instructions were needed as you wrapped your lips around his cock, sucking harshly on the head and hollowing your cheeks as you went lower. You had little trouble deep throating him, his overall length not being anything you couldn’t handle. Still, you found it challenging to keep up a rhythmic pace. His cock was thick and veiny and it made your mouth feel incredibly full. Your fingers dug into the skin of his waist as tears formed along your eyes. You noticed that Minho had taken a seat on a chair beside the bed and was eyeing you with a smug look plastered on his face, occasionally palming himself through his pants. Chan, however, was nowhere to be seen. You tried not to let your mind wander too far and focussed on the task at hand. Changbin decided to take control, coiling his hand into your tresses and keeping you still. He removed his length from your mouth, placing the tip on your lower lip signaling you to stick out your tongue. He slapped his dick on the wet muscle before nearly ramming back into your mouth. He wasted no time building up speed, his hips snapping rapidly as his hands tangled into your hair further.

“You like having my cock in your mouth, hm?”

If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sensation you were currently feeling, you’d have rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t possibly be expecting you to respond. Chan, on the other hand, did. He had seated himself behind you some time ago and was waiting for an opportunity to remind you of his presence. You suddenly felt a harsh stinging sensation on your rear, and heard Chan speak from behind you. 

“He asked you a question, babygirl.”

You could only whimper in response. You could still feel Chan’s hands roaming around your lower frame, muttering something along the lines of “such a pretty ass” before spanking you once more. One hand continued resting on your ass, kneading the skin as the other pushed the flimsy fabric of your dress up and began pulling your panties out of the way. He groaned at the sight of your glistening folds, pushing your legs apart and delving his tongue into your wet pussy. The sudden action made you jerk forward to which Chan retaliated by holding your hips in place. He licked and sucked on your heat loudly, repeatedly telling you how sweet you taste, the vibrations of his voice sending tingles up your spine. Now mostly focused on the pleasure you were receiving, you briefly forgot about Changbin. Whose own climax was drawing closer thanks to the help of your moans which vibrated around his dick. He pulled out, tugging on his dick repeatedly as he instructed you to open your mouth. You complied, but struggled to keep your mouth open as Chan was still devouring your pussy. Thankfully it didn’t take Changbin much longer before he finally came, strings of his hot cum landing on your tongue and face. He collected whatever he could on his thumb, transferring it onto your tongue. You looked up at him with teary eyes and saw him smile. 

“I didn’t take you for such a cumslut, but what’s the fun in knowing what to expect, right?” he said with a wink.  

You had a remark on the tip of your tongue, but it was quickly forgotten when Chan pushed two fingers inside of you, his plump lips wrapped around your clit. Instead of a sassy comment leaving your mouth like you had hoped, all that came out was a somewhat high pitched moan followed by several curse words. You felt your toes curl, your hands clutching onto the bed sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching. The other two eyed you from a distance, the quiet room only being filled with the sound of your wet cunt and your occasional moans. Minho caught your attention, at some point having fully undressed himself and was now stroking himself to the sight of you getting your pussy ate. Quite frankly, you’d be lying if you said the view alone wasn’t enough to make you cum. Minho must have caught on, leaning forward a bit he looked at you and asked. “Are you close, kitten? Can you cum for us?”

You wanted to hold off a bit longer, purely to be defiant. But you were betrayed by your own body, cumming almost as soon as he spoke. You heard Chan sigh, lapping up your juices then kissing up your spine. He gave you one last kiss on your shoulder before praising you with “Good girl.” 

You tiredly plopped down onto the mattress, only to be disturbed by Minho’s voice. 

“We’re not done yet, kitten. It’s my turn now.”

He signaled you to roll over onto your back. Once you did, he quickly grabbed both your legs, pulling you closer to him and only leaving your upper body resting on the mattress. He ran his index finger up and down your slit, making you squirm from the slight oversensitivity. Minho, who had been quiet for most of the time, seemed to have finally gotten his voice back.  

“Do you think you can handle me, kitten?” 

Too prideful to even respond, you opted to simply avoid his gaze to which he replied with a simple “Okay.”

Compared to Changbin, Minho’s dick was longer but had less girth. Still, you found yourself admiring his stiff member. The few veins that ran down the length and the glistening reddened tip all making you want him even more. He pulled you closer, one arm hooked underneath your leg and the other gliding his cock up and down your folds. He tugged the flimsy fabric of your panties off and slid into you with ease, and chuckled. 

“How are you already so wet, are you that excited for me to fuck this tight pussy?”

His pace was slow, but he made sure to go as deep as he could. Your heels dug into the small of his back as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. You felt the bed dip and saw Changbin kneeling beside you. He started kissing down your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples through your clothes. His mouth felt rough on your skin, as if he had every intention on marking you up as much as he could. All the while Minho began fucking into you faster. His grip on your waist felt unbelievably tight and would likely cause bruises to be seen the following day. Changbin kissed all the way up to your ear, stopping to whisper how much he’d like to fuck your mouth again. He sat up and rested each of his knees beside your head. He angled himself forward so that his dick could easily slip into your mouth as he supported himself on his elbows. He slowly started thrusting, gravity helping you take all of him so well. You felt Minho’s speed begin to slow down and figured he must be growing tired of the demanding position - it was actually because Changbin was spreading his ass in his face - but that didn’t stop him from stimulating your clit. You also opted to take matters into your own hands, somewhat literally, and reached up to cup Changbin’s balls. You toyed and fondled them as he continued to fuck himself with your mouth. Minho had changed position slightly, your legs now resting on his shoulders, allowing him to reach your sweet spot with much ease. Chan was keeping himself busy with his phone, pacing around the room recording the other two males having their way with you. Despite Minho having a head start, Changbin was the first to climax. He groaned loudly as he spilled his seed down your throat. You continued to suck, cleaning him off before he pulled away from the growing sensitivity. The moment he pulled away Minho dropped your legs and leaned forward, his chest pressed against yours as he began fucking you at an incredible pace. Your hands found themselves woven into his hair and your teeth sunken into his skin. The headboard banged against the wall and the room filled with moans. You were so close, the sensation of being filled to the brim felt like ecstasy. And then it was all gone, you suddenly felt empty. Looking up you saw that Minho had pulled out, and was now standing up straight and jerking himself off. You muttered a barely audible “What the fuck.” that still managed to catch his attention. He asked you what was wrong, seemingly unbothered by the almost hateful look you were giving him. Not long after, he came all over your stomach and chest, looking down at his work proudly. You took this as a chance to ask what the hell that was all about. 

“I was so close!” you exclaimed. 

“I know, but I only let good girls cum.”

He walked away unapologetically, satisfied with his revenge. You heard Chan chuckle. Now only in his boxers he made his way to the bed, resting himself against the pillows and the headboard.  

“That’s so cruel, Minho. Come here, babygirl. I’ll let you cum as many times as you’d like.”

He patted his lap and you weakly crawled over to him, settling yourself on top of his constrained erection. He ran his hands up your sides and finally ridded you of the dark red babydoll, immediately capturing one of your nipples between his lips. His hands started guiding your hips, your throbbing clit rubbing against his clothed member. As he sucked on one breast, his hand reached up to grope the other. If your eyes hadn’t been screwed shut from the pleasure, you’d have noticed that he never once took his eyes off you. He halted your movements and instructed you to turn around. 

“I want to see that pretty ass of yours bounce while I fuck you, and” he leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder his hand pointing at Changbin and Minho “show them how it’s really done.”

You lifted yourself up for a moment allowing him to remove his boxers before he guided you onto his dick. You immediately noticed that Chan had more girth than Minho, feeling him stretch you out as you slid down his cock. He allowed you to adjust, telling you that you could move whenever you were ready. You slowly began winding your hips, moving them in a circular motion and building up a rhythm. Chan had his hands resting on your hips and ass, kneading the flesh and even landing a few spanks when you’d least expect it. Every so often he would lean in and place a kiss on your shoulder, and give you some slight praise. “You’re taking me so well, good girl.” “That’s it, don’t stop.” “Fuck, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

Despite your legs growing tired, his words encouraged you to go faster. His breathing became erratic and you could feel his dick twitching inside you, signaling that he was close. You pushed two fingers into your mouth, coating them with your saliva and reached down to rub your clit. All while Minho and Changbin watched you in awe. Chan pushed you forward so that you were once again on all fours. He rammed into you, the sudden roughness and speed almost making you scream. One of his hands held onto your waist while the other replaced your own that was rubbing your clit. His movements were a lot more faltering and his voice got deeper, though he could barely form complete sentences. He wasn’t saying any more than two or three words at a time, but you were still able to make them out. 

“So close.” “Gonna fill you up” “My tight pussy.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself unraveling, face buried in the covers to muffle your moans as you came. That didn’t stop him though. Your legs started shaking, twitching as he took you passed your orgasm. His hand still rubbing your throbbing clit, his dick stretching you out. You felt as if your head was spinning and yet you could still hear him when he instructed you to cum again. As you reached your second orgasm, you felt him spill inside of you. His seed coating your insides, making you whimper as you felt it drip down your leg. 

You collapsed onto the bed before Chan could even completely pull out. Your breathing was ragged but with some effort you managed to finally speak words that essentially admitted your defeat. 

“That was amazing.”

The room was silent until Changbin decided to ask you a question. 

“Okay, but who was the best?”

[tae-cup]

.hamartia. ‘Part 6,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 3k Words

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I sorta like it.

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Next

Hamartia

~ The word hamartia refers to a flaw or mistake that leads to a fictional character's downfall. Classical tragedies revolve around the main character's hamartia, the tragic flaw that sets a series of disastrous events in motion. Achilles' heel was his hamartia – his fatal flaw.

-

-

“What do you mean they’re gone.” Yoongi never raised his voice, but there was a steel to his tone. 

“We searched everywhere on the property, hyung.” Jungkook pleaded. 

“No. No they can’t have just up and left, now could they?” Yoongi stayed absolutely still, not willing to give away the flame broiling inside. He still cared for you. Of course he did. He couldn’t bare to see you in pain. He left...for you. The man believed it was for the best. He just hadn’t expected you to then throw yourself into your work. 

“N-no.” Jungkook stammered. The poor boy had already been traumatized enough after seeing Mark being shot in front of him. 

“And it’s boss, to you.” Yoongi continued, his words cutting deep into Jungkook. They had known each other for so long. They grew up together, yet here Yoongi was, souring and severing the relationship he held so dear. With striking clarity he realized he did this a lot; pushed people away. He was wrong before. He was the selfish one. Self-preservation was the issue. 

Jungkook flinched at the man’s words. Jimin stood quietly in the corner, heart breaking at the sight before him. He hadn’t known the two as long as they had known each other, but that didn’t stop him from feeling pain for the ties he saw being cut. The short man still didn’t move to intervene the fight beginning. 

“I know you care for them, but what if they left voluntarily?” Jungkook pondered, instantly regretting the words as they tumbled out of his mouth. Yoongi instantly narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward and place his elbows on the desk, interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on them. 

“And why would they do that?” 

Silence. 

God awful silence. 

The younger male made the wise decision to remain silent. Yoongi slowly stood, pressing his palms into the table as a power play. 

“Find them. You’re dismissed.” He said with a wave of his hand. The young boy scurried off, seemingly wanting to leave the office as fast as possible. 

Only Jimin remained. He didn’t move from his spot in the corner as the silent observer. He watched Yoongi rake his hand through his hair. Then the dark haired man called out to the silver haired one. 

“Jimin, sit.” He sighed. Jimin nodded and swiftly took a seat. The tension from earlier lingered, but it wasn’t quite as intense. “I like that about you.” 

Jimin looked up slightly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His hands subconsciously went to his hair. Yoongi scoffed at the action. 

“Not your hair, dumbass.” Then he took a seat as well. “I mean, you follow directions well. You never do what you’re not supposed to and you keep your head down, not asking questions.” 

The other male’s ears pricked up at the sound of his companion’s words. He smiled slightly to himself, but tried his best to keep a neutral face. He just dipped his head in a swift nod. Yoongi looked at him, intrigued, before continuing. 

“I don’t trust Kook to find them whatsoever.” He addressed Jungkook with a casualness that seemed odd given the earlier fight. “So, I’m also sending you to find them. We have some men tied up downstairs that may have answers and since my darling Y/N is missing, you will need to take the task of getting their information.” 

Jimin swallowed thickly. He realized that maybe he was the monster between You and him. After all, he had been in this business far longer than you and he had yet to lose his head. Maybe that’s why Yoongi trusted him without a doubt. 

“Of course, boss.” 

-

-

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” You said, a teasing tone at the back of your throat. Taehyung sat in front of you. For the past 10 minutes, he had just stared at you, not speaking a word. And you tried to as well, but it was hard to with your swollen eye. The not speaking issue wasn’t really an issue as you had dealt with it for months. 

“I trusted you. You betrayed me so easily.” You sneered. You hated him. Hated him. But you just couldn’t get the words out. “And I thought you were a man of honor.” With that, he let a laugh escape. 

“You really think there are men of honor in our business, Y/N? I have-”

“Killed a thousand people, blah blah blah. Haven’t we all?” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, I know the intimidation tactic.” You groaned. His eyes grew darker. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I can and will if necessary. And I may not be a man of honor but,” He turned around, seemingly not wanting to meet your gaze. He stopped himself short, remembering the audio was still running. The man sighed and turned back around. If you had seen his eyes in the short in the short time he had turned around, you would see him break. He knew you were observant and he didn’t want you to see him like that. Taehyung wasn’t honorable in any sense, but he wasn’t a complete monster. He had grown an attachment to you; you, who was so complicated it made his head spin. 

“But?” You frowned. His eyes swept the room. Then he leaned in. 

“Please pretend I’m saying something nasty.” His breath fanning against your neck and his proximity made your heart race. You gave the slightest of nods in agreement. “Okay, I didn’t want to turn you in.” 

“You bitch.” You played along. He paid you no mind. 

“We were caught, but I realized I couldn’t help you out of here if I was also incapacitated.” He mumbled against your skin. You felt your breath hitch. Was he telling the truth? Was he playing a game with you? 

“Fuck off.” You spewed out. Then you whispered back with the same ferocity, “Why haven’t you gotten me out then.”

“I had some complications.” 

You looked at him questioningly. He waved you off. He knew he had to hurt you in some way to appease them. So he went with a good ‘ole sucker punch to your fucking stomach. Of course it didn’t please him to see you in pain and he shot you a pained look, one that you couldn’t see from how quickly your eyes closed in shock.  

You gasped for air as he left. This man really just promised to help me escape and then punched me in the fucking stomach. You hissed to yourself. What an ass. 

-

-

“Why do you push people away?” 

Your eyes snapped to Taehyung as he sat, once more, in front of you. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Yes, you do.” he could tell from your instinctual reaction. You looked around, eyes sweeping the room again, as if the walls would somehow disappear. They didn’t, obviously, and you decided that there was no point in hiding. You weren’t sure what Taehyung’s intentions were. He seemed like he was trying to get to know you, like how you had approached him, except he made the mistake of also letting his comrades in to have fun torturing you for information. Luckily, you were a lot more soulless than you let on and you managed to endure the pain. Blood dribbled from your mouth from the earlier beating. You spat this blood onto the floor. 

“Like hell I would tell you.” You shuddered. You knew you were close to breaking. It had been weeks. Yoongi probably didn’t spare you a thought, the heartless bastard, Maybe you were a quick fuck for him and that was all.

“You have nothing left to lose.” He shrugged, reading you easily. He had gotten better at this, slowly worming his way into your mind. 

“You’re right, but I still have some sense of sanity.” Not much. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.” He laid a soft hand on your knee. You didn’t even realize you were shaking. 

“I think you’d change your mind really quick if you actually knew me.” You shook your head. The rest of your body hurt too much to even consider moving. 

“Tell me...What’s wrong, Y/N, with the word selfish?” 

Instantly, you growled lowly at the word. “Don’t say that word with my name in the same sentence ever again.” 

He grinned, knowing he hit a nerve. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Fine. But at least tell me why.” 

You thought it over a moment, having a battle in your head. The way he stared at you almost made you feel obligated to tell him. You didn’t have the strength to both fight his advances to know you, and to keep yourself fucking alive. So you gave in, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You always broke your promises to yourself. 

“I’m selfish because I don’t want to be selfless.” You emphasized the last part. “I don’t want to give all of myself to someone else or something else because if I gave away a piece of me to every person I’ve ever cared about,” You hesitated before hanging your head low. “I’d have none of myself left. So instead I forcefully rip myself back from their prying hands, even if it breaks them in the process.” 

You were a naturally selfless person. Being selfish was a learned behavior after a long time of being in this world of crime. Taehyung nodded slowly, but there was no pity in his eyes, you hated pity, but he did have understanding. 

“I get it.” He muttered. Then he took your bloodied hand, still tied to the chair, and held it softly. “I’m selfish too.” 

You almost relaxed until those last words. Yoongi flashed across your mind, reminding you of your situation. You jerked your hand back, as much as you could in your situation. He noticed. Taehyung slowly withdrew. 

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He apologized, his deep voice its own kind of relaxation. 

“You can do what you want. You’re not the one tied up to a chair. And frankly, that was better than being punched in the gut.” You said with an accusing tone. 

“Ah right.” He scratched the back of his head. “Sorry about that. I just can’t leave you unscathed or else there will be issues.” He glanced at the security cameras. Taehyung usually had great self control. He never said more than he needed to and his co-workers would describe him as short and blunt when speaking. So why did he go to the extra lengths of formalities and apologies when it came to you? He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“Yeah yeah. As long as there’s no permanent damage, Yoongi might save your life.” You only half joked. 

“You still think Yoongi is coming? It’s been weeks.” He chuckled bitterly. You swallowed thickly, reality dawning on you. 

“I’m sure he is.” You felt your jaw clench. Maybe he was right. Maybe no one was coming for you. 

“I see your resolve wavering. I’m working on...a plan.” His voice dipped low at that last part. You coughed, rolling your eyes. 

“Does that matter now? Why don’t you just kill me already? I’m not giving you information and it’s clear they don’t care enough about me for you to use me as a bargaining chip.” You spat blood onto the ground, too tired to do anything else. You just wanted it all to be over with. 

“Hey,” His voice was gentle, almost soft. “Look at me.” His hand went out to your cheek as you lifted your heavy eyelids to look at him. 

“Come on, Tae, stop dragging this out. I did nothing but keep you captive the entire time you were with me. You owe me nothing.” 

The handsome man nodded. “I know.” He murmured. 

There was a loud bang from somewhere outside. “I just wanted to make sure you know I’m sorry for everything. If we had met under better circumstances, I would have liked to get to know you. But I can’t, not now, and we will probably never meet again.” 

“What do you mean?” Your voice was hushed as another bang came from outside. There were footsteps and loud voices. Taehyung didn’t answer, he just donned a serious expression. Your breath hitched as you watched him take out his gun and flick the safety off. 

“I’ve got to go.” He held up his gun and rushed outside the room, his feet joining the beat of many others. 

-

-

Sitting in the dark is not fun. Your eyes strained against the pitch blackness of the room. There was the smallest sliver of yellow light from under the doorway. It was giving you a headache. You shut your eyes, growing increasingly annoyed by the tightness of the ropes. 

“Could have at least loosened the ropes.” You grumble to yourself. Then you slowly opened your eyes, hearing the commotion die down. Your sense went into overdrive, eyes trapped on the door. Slow, heavy set, footsteps walked down the hallway. It was way too quiet. Your body shook, a natural reaction. Anytime someone stopped outside your door, it had been to beat you until you lost consciousness. Your breath caught in your chest. 

“Y/N?” A deep voice murmured. “Are you alright?” 

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether or not to answer. You didn’t really get a choice, however, because the door flew open to reveal two men you really didn’t want to see. Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi was stiffly standing there, drinking in your appearance, while Taehyung panted, clearly from running. 

“Are you alright?” Yoongi asked, swallowing thickly. Then he turned to Taehyung. “You were supposed to keep her safe, you prick.”

Taehyung simply shrugged. The two ignored your bewildered expression. “Hold on. So Taehyung...was a double agent?” 

“This is a dangerous business.” Taehyung smiled wolfishly. 

“I trusted you.” Yoongi grabbed the man’s shirt. You cleared your throat, finally drawing attention to yourself. 

“While I’d love to see this go down, I’d also like my freedom back.” You mused, a smirk on your face. As Yoongi hurried over, untangling you from your ropes, you added more flames to the wildfire of issues between the two men. “You know Taehyung was so good at acting, it fooled me. Especially when he punched me in the gut.” You tried not to wince and you could see he looked away, ashamed. 

“He what?”“ Yoongi turned, staring at Taehyung incredulously. “I should have you killed for this.”

Yoongi helped you out and you felt your legs fall from under you. They were numb, not responding to your desperate wishes for them to move. After all, you had been strapped to that chair for weeks. Yoongi caught you, rough hands running over your bloodied arms. 

“Fuck. I never should have trusted him to keep you safe.” Yoongi murmured, shooting Taehyung a glare. 

“It’s okay, I just...I need some explanation.” You breathed. How long had you been toyed with? Who else knew? Did Jimin know? Why would Yoongi send one of his own to be tortured? 

-

-

“I should kill you right now.” Yoongi held his gun out, finger twitching on the trigger. 

“Now what good would that do?” Taehyung’s mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly. “You’ll never know why I’m here.”

“I don’t need to know.” The shorter man eyed the other’s stance. Taehyung was casually standing there, hand resting on the holster that held his handgun. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung watched Yoongi. 

“Like hell we do.” Yoongi held a blank expression. His eyes roamed Taehyung’s face and body, sizing him up. 

“Come on.” Taehyung ran a hand through his hair. “I’m willing to be your little spy, a double agent against my own gang.”

“Why?”

“I want protection. Total protection when you attack my gang. I’ll even protect Y/N if that’s what you wish.”

That made Yoongi hesitate. He had been looking for a bodyguard. You were of the utmost importance. Jimin stood to the side, ever the shadow. He nudged his boss, “I think it’s a good idea.” He murmured into his ear. 

“I think you know more than you let on, Taehyung. But I’ll give you a chance.” He snapped, waving off the taller man. “You’re dismissed. I want you back here, Friday, to discuss new information.” 

Taehyung bowed his head and left. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi commanded, eyes flicking to the seat in front of him. Jimin took a seat. “I want you to watch Taehyung. Be discreet.” 

The younger man nodded. “I will.” 

“Great, and try not to tell Y/N. She’s stressed out enough as it is.”

-

-

Another punch. Blood flew from a nose. 

“Rot in hell.” 

Blood was spat on the floor. 

“That’s where you’re mistaken. I thrive in hell.” Yoongi bent over Taehyung, studying him. He tilted his head before standing, wiping the blood on his hands onto a rag nearby. “Our deal means nothing. You have no use to me anymore.” Yoongi chuckled darkly, moving to the exit. “I hope you never see the sunlight again.” 

The door slammed shut. 

-

-

I forgot to put this in before I posted, but I’m writing through my iphone hotspot and It’s so slow. - Marria

Previous | Next