#this ended up... way longer than i wanted

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[dudeitiskarev]

If You Only Knew | Aaron Hotchner

My One and Only prequel

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Broken hearts find each other and in the process, they mend each other.

Word count: 10.7k

Tags/warnings: season 10 Hotch <3; cheating (on reader); food and alcohol consumption; Hotch has a soft spot for reader<3; lazy case talk whoops; canon typical violence; one bed trope; smut: unprotected and dirty office sex (p in v); secret relationship; stolen glances and kisses in forbidden places!!1!

Author’s note: I don’t usually do second parts mostly because I wrap up the story in a single one shot, but while writing the first fic I had this prequel in mind because oh boy, they have HISTORY (which is why it ended up being longer than My One and Only). Both can be read as a stand alone. First fic was based on Dress by miss T. Swift, and this one is like a mash up of every Taylor’s ovulation songs (I listened to this playlist a lot while writing this) 🙂‍↔️ Call It What You Want x I Can See You being the main inspo. Or were the songs inspired by them???🧐 it’s just so sexy sexy. Anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!

MASTERLIST

There used to be an engagement ring on your right hand. 

A bright but simple ring that from the moment it was given to you, had you hopeful about your future. That future had always been uncertain. You rarely pictured yourself more than two years ahead, to begin with—for many reasons, neither worth mentioning—but no matter how long your future was, you were sure it was going to be just as bright as your ring. 

And how wrong you were…

It hadn’t been more than two months since your fiancé promised you the world when you caught him in a lie. You’d let it slip away, fidgeting your ring as a reminder that he was the one. 

If you hadn’t ignored the signs, you would’ve saved yourself from getting your heart ripped out. 

He cheated, and even worse, you caught him in the act, with another woman in your own bed. You stormed out leaving every door open. Zac came running behind you, yelling your name, but you didn’t stop. You ripped the engagement ring off your finger and threw it at him without looking back. That clink of the band bouncing on the pavement was so faint compared to the sound of your castle crumbling, and your prince kept yelling at you to come back.

You didn’t. You got in your car and drove off aimlessly. 

You’d been driving around the city blasting music since then, and yelling the lyrics hoping you’d go numb. You didn’t, but at least you had some clarity. 

You had nowhere to be. There was no home anymore, no bed to sleep on, and no arms to run to. The place you used to call home now was stained with lies and haunted by another woman. 

The only place that could shelter you for the night was the BAU. At the end of the day, that was your home. You spent most of your days there with the people you worked with. People who would take a bullet for you. They were your family—Derek being the one you loved the most—but you couldn’t run to him or any of them right now. The wound was too fresh and letting them see you like this would be disappointing and just… sad. They’ve always known you as a tough and reasonable woman. How were you supposed to tell them you weren’t that smart now that your entire relationship crumbled?

You parked at your usual spot and searched for your emergency go bag in the backseat. It was always stocked with everything you needed for at least a week. You weren’t planning on staying at the BAU for an entire week, of course, but also, you never knew. Your ex was capable of lighting your house on fire just to get rid of any evidence of his betrayal so for now, that bag was all you had. 

You took a deep breath and made your way inside the building. You walked through security as you always did and smiled at the night guard. It was Rick, the oldest of them all but you felt the safest when he was at the door.

“What brings you here at this hour, young lady?” Rick adjusted his ivy cap. 

It was past three in the morning. 

“Piled up paperwork,” you merely said. 

And he didn’t question you. “Oh, sure,” he answered politely with his old, raspy voice.  

You smiled at him and made your way to the elevator, pushing the number six as you always did. You kicked the bag with your knee until the doors dinged open. 

Not a single soul received you.

You walked past the glass doors and reached your desk, looking up at Hotch’s office that was right across. He had a couch there that you could use as your bed for a few hours. Everyone has slept there at least once— for whatever reason—and now it was your turn. You marched up the short stairs and paused. You knew his office remained unlocked (he once said that he’d lost the key, but deep down you knew he left it open in case anyone needed somewhere to crash for the night). 

You knocked, just in case, and once there was no answer, you twisted the knob. His perfume was faint in the air—soft and woody—so it was easy to assume he’d left not long ago. You closed the door behind you and walked to the couch, leaving your bag there and turning the lamp on. 

The dim light triggered the memories of the moment that tore you apart hours earlier: Another woman riding your fiancé. They even dared to light up romantic candles. 

Your fucking candles.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You wasted three years of your life and now with a cool head, you realized it was in your hands how you handled it. It could either be the best thing that's happened to you or you could let it drag you down. 

Right then, you decided the first option was the only one. You stood there, both hands on your hips, your chin up and took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air until your chest swelled. 

This was going to be the only night you’d let yourself mourn your relationship. No tears. Just you and a glass of scotch. It wasn’t your drink of choice but it was all Hotch kept in his office and you knew exactly where he kept the bottle (right under his espresso machine García had gotten him for his birthday a couple of years ago). You crouched down and opened the little cabinet. The bottle was almost full and you wondered if it was brand new or if he rarely drank. You shrugged it off. You poured yourself some and began pacing around his office.

You’ve been here a million times and you’d never paid much attention to all the things he had. There were quite a few awards granted by the bureau displayed on the wall behind his desk; a bunch of books, too. You ran your fingers through them as you walked from end to end. He had a picture of Jack and Haley over his desk and you looked around, searching for a picture of Beth. Your eye landed on her contagious smile, over the little table by his couch. You walked there to get a better look at the picture. She was looking at the camera and he was looking at her. You’d met her a few times and it was nice seeing Hotch in love again. After Haley, everyone thought he’d refuse to let someone in again, but when love knocks on your door there’s not much you can do. 

You sighed deeply and placed your empty glass in front of the picture. The alcohol was making you sleepy so you made yourself comfortable. You went to brush your teeth, put on your pajamas and fuzzy socks, made a blanket out of your blazer, and used your folded pants as a pillow.

You rubbed your feet together. It wasn’t a cold night, but you wished you didn’t have to spend it alone. 

The constant sound of a pen scraping on paper gradually woke you up.

Shit. 

You meant to sleep only a few hours and have Hotch’s office as it was before he got here; pretend you’d gotten there earlier than everyone. You must’ve slept through your alarm. 

You slowly squinted your eyes open and caught Hotch sitting at his desk, brows low in deep thought.

How long has he been there?

“Hotch.” You rubbed your eyes and sat upright. “Hi. Sorry, I— What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty,” he answered, never taking his eyes off the file.

So you didn’t sleep through your alarm. 

“When did you get here? I didn’t hear you.”

“A few minutes ago.” He put the pen down and lifted his head to look at you. His face softened. 

He didn’t seem upset about you invading his office but you still felt the need to explain yourself. “I, uh, stayed until late last night and I was too sleepy to drive and—” You realized mid-sentence how bad you were lying.

But he let you. 

“It’s not a problem, you can always sleep here. As long as it’s not already taken.” He stared at you for a moment, rubbing his thumb with the rest of his fingers. You wondered how bad you looked. How bad everything seemed. “It has a foldable seat,” was all he said, gesturing at the couch. “There’s a blanket under it.”

“Oh, thanks. It wasn’t that cold.” You braced yourself. 

It was cold now.

“You can sleep for another hour,” he added. 

“We don’t have a case?” 

“No.” He glanced at the open door and then back at you. “Not yet anyway.”

Then why was he here so early?

You smiled at him and began to gather your things anyway. “Thank you, but I still should go. I’m… invading your space.”

“Oh, please. Don’t worry about it,” he said before going back to work on his paper. 

Even if he didn’t mind you sleeping there while he worked, you did. You stood up, stretched your neck a bit, and began to fold all of your clothes, putting them back in your bag. 

You felt his eyes on you every once in a while and just when you grabbed the evidence of your late night—the empty glass of scotch—he asked, “Is everything alright?”

You looked at him. There was that soft look again.

“Yeah, I just…” you trailed off, fidgeting with your now invisible ring. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He didn’t have to say anything. He knew. You knew he knew just by that look he gave you. Wise. Emphatic. The ‘I’ve been there before’ look. 

He opened his mouth to add something, but his phone buzzed on the table, making him tear his eyes off you. He sighed as his brows lowered.

“Now we have a case?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ll put on some work-appropriate clothes, then.” You looked down at your pajamas.

“Take your time. We’ll meet in thirty.”

The jet took off and the clouds were never-ending. 

Two women had been abducted (and murdered) already in Fort Myers before you were invited to investigate. Victimology and M.O. were discussed and you barely said a thing. Your mind kept wandering off to the night before and how miserable you felt. The phantom of betrayal was still heavy on your shoulders. 

Hotch sat next to you during the three-hour flight, and the only thing he said to you that wasn’t work-related was: ‘Would you like some coffee’, to which you gladly accepted. His eyes, though, kept asking if you were okay. 

Minutes before the jet touched the ground, your phone caught some signal and began to buzz uncontrollably against the table. You already knew who it was so you didn’t bother to glance at the screen, you just sighed in annoyance and put your phone in your pocket. You felt Hotch’s eyes on you again and you tried your best to ignore him.

Right now, he was your boss, not your friend. 

The moment the jet doors opened, the dense, humid air stuck to your skin. Everyone groaned in annoyance.

“Ugh, I hate Florida,” Emily commented. 

You didn’t mind it. You needed a bit of heat and sun, hoping they’d woosh away the gray cloud over your head.

Hotch assigned everyone’s tasks for the day and partnered you up with Morgan to interview the victims’ families. Smart move. It was known that Morgan was your person inside the team, and even if he didn’t know about your heartbreak right now, he’d surely find out soon after spending the day with you. That’s what Hotch wanted. For you to have someone to talk to if you wanted.

You would’ve preferred to be out in the field instead of inside an office, that way you’d have more distractions. Right now, as you talked to one of the victim’s husbands, your only distraction was your phone. Your ex started to call you again and spam-texting you. He was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t quite focus on your job. The one that you considered was your forte—when it came to good people. 

These men weren’t good people. They were exactly like your ex. 

And they got on your nerves. 

Morgan shot you a frown as he walked the last person out of the office, “What’s going on with you? You almost punched the guy.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

“I would’ve if you hadn’t caught me.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m being dead serious, what’s going on with you?”

“He called his dead wife a whore, Morgan.”

“I’m not just talking about this. All morning you’ve been acting weird.”

There was his big brother attitude.

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t not tell him. So you told him. Some of it. “Zac and I are fighting. He keeps calling but I’m not gonna answer yet. He’s gonna have to wait until I’m back.”

“What did he do?” He asked, brows shooting up with concern. 

You walked to the small coffee station the sheriff had set up for the team. “We’re just fighting.” You poured yourself some coffee. You couldn’t tell him everything. He was friends with Zac—and a really good one. 

“I don’t buy that,” Morgan insisted. “I know what your fights look like. This isn’t a fight over how he didn’t do the dishes.”

You hated how well he knew you. You and Zac. It was sad to think there wouldn’t be any more double dates with him and Savannah. 

“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” you merely said.

Morgan let out a huff and glared at you in silence. “Alright.” 

He respected you and didn’t bug you any more about it. And neither did Zac, thankfully. The messages and phone calls stopped but even then, you couldn’t get your mind off whatever he wanted to say. 

The day went by painfully slowly. Not many leads were found and the unsub seemed to have gone dormant, which meant the investigation was done for the day. 

Hotch, JJ, and Rossi were still finishing up a few things with the sheriff, and you decided to wait for them outside, sitting on the sidewalk. There was a dinner reservation at the hotel at nine. It was thirteen past nine and you’d been running on five cups of coffee. 

Your stomach rumbled. 

Steps came from behind. Morgan silently sat next to you and handed you a protein bar. He sat close, his arm touching yours. “Zac called me.” 

“Good for him.” You didn’t bother to look at him. Instead, you began to pick your nails. You weren’t hungry anymore. 

“And he told me.” Derek placed one hand over yours, stopping you from destroying your nails. 

You shot him a look. “What did he tell you?” You asked because you didn’t think Zac would rat himself out to Morgan. 

“I’m on your side,” he said. “He’s my friend, but you’re my sister. He’s dead to me now.” He quirked his brows. 

“What did he tell you, Morgan?”

“That you caught him cheating.” 

The disappointment on his face was as clear as the night sky.  

You tore your eyes off him and sighed.

“I was so stupid.” You rubbed your forehead. “I caught him in lies multiple times and I brushed them all off. Like a part of me wanted that to happen,” you confessed. 

“What do you mean? That you didn’t want to marry him?”

“I… I don’t know.” You looked back at Derek. Now that the truth was out you needed to talk about it. Maybe that way you could realize it was all your fault. “I loved him, and he was a great guy but at some point, after the engagement and before the lies, I stopped seeing a future with him. So I guess it’s my fau—”

“Nuh-uh.” Derek interrupted you, placing a finger over your lips. “He did this,” then booped your nose. 

You couldn't help but smile. “Yeah but I stopped being… a girlfriend to him,” you explained, moving your hands around to make your point. “I came home late, he’d wait for me with dinner but I just… stopped seeing him.” You sighed. It really was your fault to some extent now that you talked about it. “He sought the attention I stopped giving him on someone else. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want… to be the person who just works and can’t balance it with personal life.”

“It’s tough.” 

“Yeah, but you seem to make it work with Savannah.” You nudged his arm.

They had the kind of love you aspired to have one day.

“It took us a while, but we made it work. Still do. It’s a good thing she also has a time-consuming job. She just gets it. But it takes a lot of effort from both parties.”

You nodded in agreement. “Zac and I are over. This isn’t something we can talk about and get through and forget or forgive. He betrayed me.” 

Derek hung one arm over your shoulder and kissed your temple. “I know.”

“At least I don’t have to plan a wedding anymore. It seems exhausting.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.”

You gasped and pulled away to look at him. He had a grin on his face now. That’s what you needed. A smile from him even if it made you forget for just a moment. “What? What does that mean? Did you propose?!” 

“Whoa, whoa.” Emily came from behind and joined the conversation right away, standing in front of you. “Who’s proposing?”

“Morgan,” you were quick to respond. Anything to avoid anyone else knowing you’d been cheated on.

“Shhh!” He stood up, signaling you both to shut up with a finger over his lips and looking around to make sure no one else heard. “I’m planning to, alright. Don't…. Freak out. She can say no.”

“She’d be silly to say no,” Emily laughed a little. “Are you kidding?”

“You’re already planning the wedding,” you laughed too while standing up. “Don’t pretend you expect her to say no.”

“Of course, she’s gonna say yes.” Derek grinned. “I’m just playin’.”

On the way to the hotel, the team split into two SUVs and Hotch kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror at every red light and stop sign, with that know-it-all look, a pinch of concern. He was worried about you (and soon to be pissed for the stunt you pulled earlier). 

You got a triple room with Emily and JJ and you didn’t give them a chance to make any conversation with them since dinner was canceled.  You threw your bag over your bed and headed to the rooftop. You figured it’d be the only place none of the team would be. You needed fresh air, and you felt ready to talk to Zac. You reached the rooftop and pulled out your phone. Just the thought of hearing his voice tightened your throat. But you had to. You needed to know what he had to say.

You dialed his number and some agonizing butterflies still managed to flap their wings at the pit of your stomach with that first ‘hey’ on the other line. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your only witness was the moon hanging above and she wouldn’t judge you, so you finally allowed yourself to feel it.

His voice was a stab to your heart and a soft sob got caged in your throat. He said he was sorry, that he missed you, that he loved you. That you will always be the love of his life and that he knew he’d lost you. You muffled your sobs against your hand and once he was done talking, all you could reply was ‘okay’. 

Then you hung up.

“Damn it.” You let your phone slip through your fingers to cover your eyes with one hand while you braced yourself with the other arm. 

You stood there—for who knows how long—until a pair of unfamiliar arms enveloped you from the front. Their scent, though, was like home—faint and woody bathing you whole. You nestled against their chest and it only made you cry even more. 

“Shh. It’s okay.” 

Hotch’s voice snapped the knife out of your chest and he wasn’t about to let you bleed out. With one hand he caressed the back of your head, giving you soft scratches. The other rubbed your upper back with short and tender strokes. You weren’t planning on crumbling and you surely didn’t expect Hotch to be the one comforting you, but it felt right. You needed a hug and a gentle voice telling you it was okay to feel like this. 

Your entire relationship flashed before your eyes. You were mourning its death, after all., and there was no going back from it. You wouldn’t do that to yourself and had to accept that his laugh would eventually fade away from your memory and his eyes would no longer shine because of you—they haven’t for a while.

You peeled yourself from Hotch’s chest and noticed how his shirt was damp with your tears.

“Sorry, I—” you sniffed; looked up at him.

His soft eyes scanned your face for a moment. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ they asked, a sweet frown taking over his face. 

“You look like you need a drink,” he said instead.

You chuckled, nodding, even when the after-crying headache was creeping up on you. You would’ve taken the elevator to the first floor, but Hotch guided you through the staircase. 

“Were you up there when I got there?” you asked him. 

“No, I went there to clear my head and… found you standing there.”

After all these years working with him, he was still the hardest to read. “Is something bugging you?” you asked him. 

“No.”

Okay, then. You understood it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about (with you). 

You reached the first floor and headed to the bar. It wasn’t crowded, and Rossi was already there. You two joined him, each at either side of him.

“Ah, FBI agents,” Rossi told the bartender, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re not gonna interrogate me, are you?” he then asked you two.

“I don’t know. Should we?” Hotch asked with a tint of humor.

“You should interrogate her.” He gestured at you by twitching his mouth in your direction. “I heard she almost punched one of the victim’s husbands.”

“Thanks, Rossi.” You glared at him, and he couldn’t have cared less. 

“Is that true?” Hotch asked you, leaning a bit forward to glance at you over Rossi, even when the wall in front of you was a whole mirror. 

“Goodnight, kid.” Rossi slid off his stool. “Night Hotch. Keep an eye on her.”

“Great.” You glared at him again. “Just throw the grenade and run away.” He just laughed and waved a dismissive hand. He had clearly had quite a few drinks so you couldn’t blame him much.

“Is that true?” Hotch asked again.

“He was a jerk,” you responded, sipping on your drink. 

“That has nothing to do with it. Jerk or not, you can’t be acting like that.” His frown grew strong but his voice remained as soft as when he was comforting you moments earlier. 

“He cheated on her, Hotch.” You shot him a look through the mirror. “That’s why she went out and got abducted. Murdered.”

“I understand that, but we push our feelings aside, you know that.”

“I know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just… let it go, please. You know I won’t do it again.”

“Of course you won’t.” He took a short sip of his drink and looked forward, making eye contact with you through the mirror. “You’d be off the case if you pull something like that again.” 

A light bulb lit up over your head right then. 

“Do you think that’s why the unsub is targeting the victims?” You grabbed his forearm with excitement. “Because they got cheated on?”

You were right and your tragedy helped save the last woman the unsub had abducted. You wrapped up the case with a bittersweet taste. 

On the flight home, Morgan sat next to you, and for some reason, you wished Hotch had sat there.

You searched for him on the jet and he’d chosen to sit farther back. You wanted to thank him for comforting you when he didn’t have to, and as if he’d read your mind—

Good job today—He texted—I know this was a particularly difficult case for you.

You lifted your head and caught him looking at you. You smiled at him as a response.

It was difficult, but it also helped you heal a little. 

Morgan nudged your arm gently, gesturing for you to take your headphones off. 

“Hm?” you raised your brows.

“Are you planning on going home now?” 

You sighed. “I have to.”

“You can stay with me for a few days. Savannah would be thrilled to have you over.”

“Thank you but I think that’d make me feel… small? I have to see him eventually. And I’d rather get it over with soon.” You smiled at him. “After that conversation, though, I’m not sure if I’ll have a place to stay so I’ll let you know if I need a place to crash for the night.”

“I’ll be there, then.”

When you made it to your place, Zac was waiting for you with dinner. You would’ve laughed, but you were too exhausted to even smile at him. 

“I’m just here to get my things,” you said, walking past him to your room.

You smelled fresh paint on your way there, and you really laughed then. He’d repainted the whole thing. Did he think changing the wall color would make you forget what happened there? 

“It’s your favorite color.” Zac stood at the door.

“You’re unbelievable.” You scoffed.

You threw all your belongings in two suitcases and left. 

To never come back.

“You’re getting discharged.” Hotch drew open the curtain of your cubicle.

“What? What about Morgan?” You sat upright, keeping the ice close to the bump on your head. You’d been in a car crash in the middle of a prosecution. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He just dislocated his shoulder.”

“Well, the doctor said I can’t fly, let alone drive.” You rolled your eyes. “So who’s driving me back to Quantico?”

“I am.” You couldn’t help but let out a huff. “Yeah, I’m not excited about it either.”

“It’s seventeen hours, Hotch. You don’t have to. I’m sure I can take an overnight bus or something.”

“You’re not taking any bus. You got a brain bleed. Someone’s gotta be there if something happens.” He glared at you. “Gather your things. I’ll bring the car. A nurse will walk you out.”

Your things were only your badge and gun. Everything else was still at the hotel, so you assumed you were going to make a stop there before hitting the road back to Quantico.  

You were officially discharged by your doctor minutes later and you’d underestimated Hotch’s efficiency. He’d already gone to the hotel to get your things. He even bought snacks—your favorite snacks. 

You reclined your seat and threw a blanket over you. Your head was much better but it still hurt despite you being high on painkillers.

“Are you cold? Do you want me to turn the heater on?”

“Not cold.” You assured him. You just wanted to make yourself cozy. “Hotch, I don’t know if I’m gonna handle a seventeen-hour drive.”

“I know.” He gave you a quick glance. “I don’t think I will either. We’ll make a stop if you need to. Just let me know.”

You dozed off and on during the first two hours—your eyes darting to Hotch’s firm hands on the steering wheel—until it started raining. Normally, you would’ve been on high alert since you weren’t a fan of driving when it rained, but it was Hotch who was driving. And he was a great driver. 

The sound of the thick drops hitting the windshield turned out to be a perfect lullaby and helped you fall into a deep and cozy slumber. A dream began to take over your mind at some point but it didn’t become one entirely. 

Loud noises dragged you out of it.

You blinked your eyes open. You were parked on the side road, and the rain wasn’t normal rain anymore. It was loud, hitting the rooftop like daggers. You feared it might fall through. 

“Are those hailstones?” You adjusted the seat back straight.

“Not yet,” Hotch responded. “But we can’t keep driving like this. I can barely see past the hood. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m no weather expert but I’m sure there’s a storm coming.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to make an emergency stop.” He pulled out his phone and typed something. “There’s a motel 3 miles away. We can spend a few hours there until the storm passes.”

“You just said it’s dangerous to keep driving.”

“It’s more dangerous to stay here or on the side of the road. Plus you need to rest. It’s been a long drive already.” 

Long? You glanced at the clock on the radio. 

“It’s been six hours already?!” Your eyes widened.

It didn’t feel like it, though.

“You snored half of it.” He teased, his soft dimples making their first appearance of the night.

“I did not,” you laughed a little. 

You knew he was just kidding, but you clearly needed those hours of deep sleep. Your headache was much better now.

Hotch kept the blinkers on as he started driving again, slowly until the map on his phone signaled him to turn right. 

There was a blue-light vacancy sign glitching. 

“This is it?” you asked. The place looked straight out of a horror film and the dark sky didn’t help.

“You stay here,” Hotch ordered. “I’ll check if they have any rooms.”

You didn’t disagree and locked the doors once he stepped out. Just in case. 

Minutes later, your phone buzzed.

There’s only one room available, Hotch texted you. 

Two beds? you texted back right away.

King, he replied.

Great. It was either sharing a bed with Hotch or staying in the car.

I don’t mind if you don’t, you texted. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Then you added, we’ll only be here a few hours until the rain stops, right?

Yes. Don’t move. I’ll come get you, he replied.

You gathered your things within reach, as gently as possible so your brain wouldn’t get all scrambled by sudden movements and unlocked the doors for Hotch.

He opened the door and ducked his head inside. “It’s the farthest room,” he raised his voice over the loud rain.

“That’s fine,” you matched his tone. “Let’s make one trip. I can carry my things.”

“You sure?” he frowned in an attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You nodded and stepped out of the car. 

Once you had your things and Hotch had his, he took the lead with you walking fast behind him with your head low. You both were already drenched so there was no point in running. 

The room was better than what you expected. It welcomed you with warm air, one bed, a small desk facing the window, an old TV, and a bathroom. They even had a small station with a kettle and tea/coffee, and the heater was on

You stripped out some of your clothes right next to the heater and changed your muddy shoes for your slippers. 

“Do you mind if I take the bathroom first?” You asked him.

“Not at all,” Hotch replied, ridding himself of some damp clothes.

You walked past him with your bag and locked yourself in the bathroom. You unlocked it right away. What if you passed out? It was going to be a quick shower to regulate your body temperature, but with a brain injury, you never knew. 

You were in and out of it in less than ten minutes and Hotch had already changed his clothes to sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was always so strange seeing him out of his suits.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, hanging his clothes on the improvised drying rack he made out of the single chair and desk and placing it close to the heater. 

“A little.” You sat on the left side of the bed.

Hotch grabbed the snack bag and displayed what he’d bought over the bed. Along with your favorite snacks were some fruits and two instant noodle soups. The first time you pulled out one of those, Reid told you all about them and how they were some of the most cancerous foods there could be, but they were a guilty pleasure and you didn’t eat them often. 

“Take your pick,” he said. “I’ll take a shower now.”

He was being a good caretaker to you and you trusted him so all you had to do today and tomorrow was obey him. You could shut your brain down when Hotch was around.  

You turned the TV on to have some background noise and put on the news. The weather had been catastrophic already in some parts and they said it was going to last at least eight more hours. It was 8 pm so you didn’t mind waiting all night for it to pass. It was a cozy room, after all.

You prepared yourself the instant soup and sat cross-legged on the bed. Your phone buzzed against the mattress.

How’s your head? Morgan texted.

Better. Your shoulder?

I have a good doctor at home so I’ll be alright. How’s the trip going? 

The sky is falling here. We had to make a stop for the night. 

Sharing a room with the boss? ;) 

You didn’t know why he would say that or why you would lie about your answer, but you lied. 

Of course not! We’re gonna wait for the rain to pass before hitting the road again.

You hit send right when Hotch came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. 

You put the phone down. “There’s still hot water in the kettle.”

You rarely saw him eat, and since all he bought were things you liked, you assumed he liked them too. He prepared his soup as well and sat on the other side of the bed.

“It looks pretty bad.” He glanced at the TV.

“They said it’s gonna last all night.”

Something was odd about him now. Maybe it was the fatigue of the trip that hit him after the shower. But he kept looking at his phone and putting it down. You saw him clench his jaw more than once. 

“Everything okay?” You had to ask.

He gave you a look. 

Everything was not okay.

He hesitated a moment, twisting the noodles with his fork but never taking a bite. 

“Beth got a job offer in Hong Kong.” Oh. “And she’s boarding the flight now.” Oh, no. “She asked my opinion before taking the job offer.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, I encouraged her to take it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

You didn’t want him to regret his choice about encouraging her—she put him between a rock and a hard place—but you had a string of questions about it. What if she asked for his opinion because she wanted to stay and settle, but needed him to say it?  

“So you let her go,” you said instead and he nodded. “How’s Jack handling it?”

“She talked to him, we took him to Orlando for the weekend and he understood it but”—he sighed—“I know it’s been hard on him, too.” You couldn’t imagine how his son was feeling. He was a kid and he’d lost someone, too. “But we ended it on good terms.” He raised his brows. 

“Why did you offer to drive me home?” You asked. “You could be there with her by now. At the airport.”

“We said our goodbyes.” He shook his head and looked down. “It would’ve made it more painful.” 

You hummed in agreement. “They say if you love someone, you let them go. If they come back, it means they’re truly yours.” He looked at you. “She could come back.”

His eyes were glassy. For some reason, you felt he was thinking about Haley, too. He was once again losing someone he loved—by choice this time but losing her nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he sort of laughed. “I’m talking about my heartbreak when…”

When you were recently heartbroken too. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’m—”

“Fine,” he finished your sentence. “Of course you are.” 

“I’m over it and I laugh about it now. I wasted three years of my life. My good years.” You chucked. “It's funny now.”

“It’s not. And you still have a few more good years ahead of you?” He commented, confused.

You talked as if your youth was already over but you had a good reason. “Yeah, but I’m not gonna be as hot as I was when I met him.” He smirked. “He went for a younger woman.” You then added. 

“Younger?” He raised his brows. 

“I know. I think that’s why I feel old. But she was a 25-year-old trainee.”

“That’s not much younger than you.” 

“You flatter me.” You let out a small laugh. “I just… Why do men always go for the younger woman?”

He took a subtle deep breath. “I—“

“Generally speaking,” you added. “Men who cheat go for a younger woman.”

“I don’t know but I’m sure Reid can give you all the statistics about it.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I don’t wanna hear them.” 

You let out a yawn, and soon Hotch did too. You two agreed in silence it was time for bed already.

“It’s not cold in here so I’ll sleep over the bed covers,” he commented.

“Hotch, you don’t have to. I don’t mind, honestly. I’ve shared beds with most of our team.”

“Alright,” he let out a small laugh, raising his brows. 

The rain stopped around 5 am and within thirty minutes you both were up and ready to hit the road again. There were ten hours ahead of you and this time you didn’t feel the need to sleep through it. You slept like a baby last night and also, talking to Hotch was really nice, and he seemed well-rested too. 

You stopped for a quick breakfast two hours in and had it in the car to optimize time. Throughout the drive, there were talks about the landscapes and weather and he’d throw in some random stories about his brother, or Haley and Jack when something reminded him of them.  

Your favorite was how he and Jack had a tradition whenever it rained: chocolate chip cookies. And how Jack had already decided that he was going to do the same with his kids one day. 

And the more the clock ticked, the more you wished he’d slow down his speed (even when he was going just below the limit). You didn’t want the trip to end, but it had to eventually.

Around 3 pm. Hotch was dropping you off at your place.

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” he commented. Only Derek had had the chance to visit your new place.

“It is. It’s mostly old people that live here so it’s very quiet all the time.” You smiled. Silence filled the air for a moment. You missed him already. “Hey, I know we’re both exhausted but… would you like to come in? We can make some decent lunch.”

Hotch took a subtle deep breath. “I would. I’d love to but… Jack’s waiting for me. I was supposed to arrive yesterday and he was excited to see me. I… I’m picking him up at school after this.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You gulped. Stupid.

Why did you feel nervous around him all of a sudden?

“Maybe some other time?” He asked.

Your stomach fluttered. 

“Definitely.”

Spencer was turning 33, and Penelope thought throwing him a surprise birthday party was a good idea. She asked everyone to show up earlier than usual to decorate a conference room. You were the first one to show, then one by one everyone arrived. 

The only one you wanted to see walking through the door, though, wasn’t the birthday boy. It was Hotch. 

After the gloomy night at the motel, Hotch became a permanent thought. You didn’t know if it was because he took such good care of you, or because he trusted you to tell you a personal thing—or both—but since that night, something changed.

You’d always admired him, but this was more than that. Your cheeks grew warm whenever he looked at you. You started to feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. And you felt ridiculous. He was your boss, he’d been your boss for five years so why had your feelings changed? 

The truth was, you’d always had certain feelings for him. Nothing ever happened before because you met him as a divorced man, who only had time for his kid and his job, so at the time, besides your boss, he was a nice face to look at (a very nice face). Then Haley's death came and he shut himself down, drowning himself in work. You started dating Zac soon after, then you didn’t have eyes for Hotch anymore. He became who he was: your boss. 

Now, that both were single, your true feelings for him were coming afloat. Of course, you didn’t let them show; how your stomach fluttered at his sudden presence and constant glances. You insisted those were in your head, that he’d always looked at you the same amount or the same way, but when the attraction is reciprocated, there’s a spark. 

That spark almost lit up a fire in your chest when he finally showed up. The lights were off, but you’d recognize his silhouette anywhere, and he was walking up to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, standing next to you.

“You’re late,” you whispered back.

“Is Reid here?”

“No, but we did all the work.”

“I’m… the boss for a reason.”

You held back a laugh. Thank god it was dark.

“Shhh, there he comes!” Penelope whispered loudly. 

Everyone moved to their assigned spot and your hand accidentally brushed his in the process. “Sorry.”

It’s okay, he whispered. 

That accidental touch was the first of many not-so-accidental.

You tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, but he looked at you, paid attention, listened to every word you had to say. He saw right through you. 

There weren’t many moments outside work, though, and that confused you even more. You couldn't ask him to see each other casually. It wasn’t something you or he did, and it made you wonder. You wondered. Always. Every day. Every hour. Every time you looked at him you wondered what was going through his mind. 

Weeks went by where unspoken words were said. Your feet itched to go to his office every time you knew he was going to stay until late. To offer him some coffee, or ask him if he needed help with something but all you always ever did was turn in your reports and linger there for a second or two, hoping he’d ask you to stay. 

And tonight was no exception. You had your excuse to stay late this time, though. A doctor's appointment forced you to clock in late, and for that, you had to stay to meet your weekly worked hours. 

Everyone had left, even the janitors. 

Everyone except for Hotch, of course. 

You glanced at your watch when you finally finished your last report. It wasn’t even an appropriate time to have dinner. You were dreaming of your bathtub and a glass of wine with some cheese.

You stacked your folders and adjusted your skirt before going to Hotch's office to hand them in. You knocked three times and waited for his Come in! to enter the room. 

You walked in and he wasn’t at his desk as he usually was. He was on his couch, with only the lamp lights on; he’d removed his jacket and had his sleeves rolled up right below his elbows. 

“Hey, I… I finished my reports.”

He looked at you—stared. You swore a faint smile was curling the corner of his lips. “Toss them on my desk.”

You slowly walked in and did as he said. “Are you… leaving soon?” you clasped your hands behind you.

“I don’t think so.”

“Is there… something I can help you with?” You gestured at the folder he was holding.

He paused for a second before replying, “Yes, actually.” He scooted to give you space on the couch. “Close the door.”

You did as he said and sat next to him, but not quite close. He put the folder on the coffee table and spread all the documents, filling in every gap.

“Choose,” he said. 

You laughed. “What?” 

“Our next case.”

“Oh, I’m not… I don’t think I’m qualified to do that, am I?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking you to choose.” He raised his brows to make his point. 

Your eyes flickered between pictures and reports. Neither was worse than the other. “Well, it’s not like I can choose, right? You have to… study each one of these murders to decide which one has more priority. Which is… a bit twisted. As if one is less important than the other.”

“It’s hard.” 

“And you do it every time.”

Hotch nodded. “JJ used to do it when she was the liaison. Now she still does when I can’t or ask her to since she has the right criteria, but it’s on me now.” He raised his brows as he spoke. 

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, a sudden urge to kiss him brewing in your chest. 

“I don’t know how you do your job without breaking down sometimes,” you said. He smiled, scanning your face up and down. God, you really wanted to kiss him. “I mean your unit chief job.” You tore your eyes off him and adjusted yourself a bit farther on the couch. You had the perfect view of the side of his head.  

Hotch leaned forward resting his elbows over his knees and lowered his head. “It’s… the one thing I’m good at.”

“Not the only thing,” you let out a breathy laugh. He turned to you, raising his brows as if he were waiting for you to mention another thing he was good at. “You’re a great dad, Hotch,” you said without hesitation. 

“I,” he licked his lips. “I could be better.”

“We all could be better at everything, doesn’t mean we’re bad at it.”

Hotch sighed. “You’re right.”

“You’re also… good at sports?”

“Stop.” He chuckled, lowering his head once again. 

You rubbed his back by impulse, and you withdrew it right away as you felt him tense up. Your hand tingled at that brief contact and it burnt when he reached for it and enveloped it with his large hand. Your heart rate skyrocketed and all you could hear was your pulse in your ears (not that any of you was saying anything anymore).

He turned his head to you, adjusting farther back so his back would rest on the couch. Your shoulders touched now, and his hand was still on yours and this time, his thumb caressed your knuckles, and his eyes were stuck on your face. 

The urge to kiss him was flush against your skin. 

“You should go home,” he said, swallowing thickly. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you licked your lips. “I really should.”

He let go of your hand and with the same one, you caressed the side of his head where a few satly strands of hair were gloriously shining. You put the short pieces behind his ear and cradled his face. You held your breath. What the hell were you doing? 

A pained frown took over his face and he shut his eyes for a second. You wanted to kiss the frown away so you leaned, kissing his cheek. He tilted his face until the tip of your nose was touching his. 

His shaky breath ghosted your lips. 

Would a kiss on the lips be so bad?

You were closing the gap before you thought about the answer. Your lips touched—a soft peck—and there was barely a sound when you pulled away.

“I’m sorry I”— You placed your fingers over your lips right away.

Hotch wasn’t giving you any signs of anything at all and panic began to take over you. 

God, what have you done?

Your name came out of his mouth in a whisper filled with longing. He was leaning closer. He studied your face from up close as he paused. His nostrils flared and he licked his bottom lip before going for a kiss. Just as tender as yours. 

At first.

One of his hands found a spot on the side of your thigh while the other went to the back of your neck, bringing you closer and allowing the kiss to intensify. His chin scraped yours with his barely noticeable beard and his lips were gentle despite his sudden urge. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this—him kissing you back or reciprocating any sign of affection. But he was, and he was getting so into it his tongue was already teasing yours. 

A small moan escaped you when he opened his mouth a bit more. Your breathing quickened with each kiss and when your tongues finally tangled together, you lost it. 

“C’mere.” He murmured against your lips.

You hopped on his lap and gave yourself in. You wrapped your arms around his neck tight and pressed your hips down. It became sloppy with each kiss already and only heavy breathing filled the room. His heavy breathing. 

He was so needy for you.

This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but you were ecstatic. No matter how far this went, it already was much better than your bathtub. 

You let go of his lips for a second. You needed to catch some air. 

“Aaron.” 

You’d never called him by his first name. Never, and right then you wished you’d done it sooner. It seemed to have awakened something in him. He groaned into another kiss and grabbed your hips tightly, encouraging you to move them. 

He liked it. He loved it. 

You obeyed, grinding him and going back for another kiss. His hands were still shy, hesitantly resting at the curves of your hips. You pressed your hips down. His hard bulge was right there. You couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip, cupping his face harshly with both hands as if he could go anywhere. He was a prisoner of your body; you had him caged with your legs and arms and he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

His hands raked down your curves, lower on either side of your hips and slowly traveled down, cupping your ass and guiding you back and forth. 

Hotch’s lap was heaven on earth. 

You moaned into a wetter kiss, tongues gliding together. You were embarrassingly loud now. He smiled against your lips. 

“Sorry.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, pressing your foreheads together.

His chest was heaving in and out as he tried to regulate his breathing. His hands went up to your lower back and he pulled you close into a tight and tender hug. 

A sudden clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. He was your boss for fucks sake. You were sure, that once you came out of his office, you would lose your job. The one you fought so hard for. 

“I… I have to go.” You slid off his lap and stood in front of him, adjusting your skirt. 

He was staring up at you through his dark lashes and you couldn’t look at him without feeling embarrassed. You wiped your lips clean and took a few steps back. 

“I am so sorry this—” You took a few more steps backward on your way to the door and turned all the way, giving him your back.

Hotch stood up, his broad silhouette taking a few steps towards you. He said your name with his deep, deep, oh-so-deep voice as your hand touched the knob. He was right behind you now, his torso glued to your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

You shut your eyes as he inhaled your hair.

You locked the door.  

“Are you sure?” he murmured next to your ear. 

All you could do was nod. 

He flipped you around by your hips, capturing your mouth, body, and soul. This time he groaned like an animal, hungry for you. God, he was desperate and your entire body fluttered. Your knees when weak right when he scooped you by your thighs and walked with you towards his desk, plopping you there while knocking everything down with one hand. 

No words were necessary. His hands talked for him and the kiss was never-ending. You were a fucking mess already. You were at his will, so open to let him do anything he wanted with you. 

To you. 

The air was getting hotter and the layers of clothes began to bother you. His body heat and breath were to blame. He was everywhere. 

He sneaked one hand in between your legs and gripped your inner thigh, his thick fingers sinking into your flesh. You squirmed over the wood, encouraging him to go a little higher. He did, the tip of his fingers ghosting your panties. They were damp with your arousal already (you’d felt it leak through you when you were kissing on the couch), and by the way he smiled, he could feel it. He lifted your skirt up to your waist and pressed himself onto you, his erection finding your cunt like a magnet. He cursed under his breath, looking down at where your bodies touched the most. But not quite. 

You wanted to touch him, feel how hard he was. You palmed his thick bulge and gulped. Your mouth went dry as you began to massage the outline of his erection while making eye contact, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered. 

There were so many clothes in the way, making it hard to focus but then he grabbed your jaw and looked into your eyes and whatever was about to come, was the best thing that would ever happen to you.

He sneaked his fingers from the side of your panties, the wet sound of your arousal against his fingers was embarrassing. But it made him drop his head to your shoulder. He cursed again and began to massage you, spreading your arousal all over with his thick fingers. Your cunt clenched, desperate to have him inside you. You cursed under your breath with pleasure as his fingers found your wet entrance. He made circular motions without entering, teasing you. 

He was driving you insane, too.  

“Hotch,” you murmured, I need you, you wanted to say, but he shushed you. Gently. Tenderly. Shushed you with an open-mouth kiss. 

You whimpered against his mouth and with clumsy hands, undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, sneaking your hand inside to touch his length. Finally. You whined again at that first touch. His skin was burning.

“Would you fuck me?” you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his length. They barely covered him. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Just give me a minute. Let me feel you.”

He moved his fingers up and down between your wet folds, feeling you as he’d said. He knew exactly what he was doing, he was skilled, gentle and put the perfect amount of pressure.

But you were growing desperate. 

“Please, Hotch.”

He didn’t give you any warning and in one fell swoop, he had his length out. Fuck. His cock stood on its own—thick and long—so close to your cunt. The tip glistened with his arousal. 

“Scoot to the edge,” he ordered. 

You did as he said and he lined himself at your entrance and barely pushed the head inside. You both let out a quiet moan at the same time.

God, it felt good. He felt good. You both looked down and watched as he slowly entered, inch by inch until he was all the way inside. He looked at you then and you lost it. 

Aaron Hotchner was fucking you. Aaron Hotchner, whom you admired and respected. Aaron Hotchner, the man who has been messing with your head these past few months. 

This was an eye-opening experience. Paradise on earth. How have you gone so many years without him? New feelings were brewing in your chest with each thrust, each stare, and each kiss. 

You gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer as he began to move, rocking his hips back and forth. You’d milked his dark and thick curls with your arousal already, making each slam sticky to your skin. 

His cock was exquisite, spreading you open and reaching every right spot. 

“You feel so good, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You couldn’t resist. 

He kept fucking you until your butt went numb, you needed to finish but you didn’t want this to end. Ever

You showed your discomfort by adjusting over the desk.

Bend over, he whispered on your lips. 

He kissed you one last time before you hopped off the desk and obeyed, bending over his desk and glancing at him over your shoulder, ready to take him. He squeezed your ass with both hands and lined himself again. He teased you, pulling it out and moving it up and down. You let out a needy hum, wiggling your ass, begging for his cock.

He entered again and this time, he was ruthless. He slammed into you, hard. Then again. And again. Over and over until the only sound in the room was the clash of skin against skin. You had to muffle your moans—and smile—by biting your forearm. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. God, Aaron Hotchener fucked good. So good you were seeing stars already and so close to grazing the sky. 

He bent down too for a moment just to bring you up close into a hug. “Come here.” You already knew he liked having you close.

He sneaked one hand from the front and massaged your clit as his thrust became sloppy. You threw your head back to his shoulder, and he captured the underside of your chin between his teeth. 

This was it. The beginning of an addiction you never wanted to rid yourself of.

There were a few more slams before he came. Hard. He was a vocal man. Grunting and groaning and cursing quietly as his cock twitched inside you. 

Your legs were shaking, and if it wasn’t because he was holding you, you were sure you would’ve fallen to your knees. And he didn’t let go of you for a moment, his cock still inside you. 

You needed to know what he was thinking, see his face. 

You took a sharp breath to speak, but he slipped his cock out and you gasped. His cum dripped down.

“Sorry,” he murmured and was quick to clean you with a tissue. 

You finally turned around and caught a look on his face you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t disappointment. But it wasn’t a positive thing. 

“This“—he began, buttoning his pants—“changes everything.” He glared at you. 

You adjusted your skirt and pressed your lips together. “I know.” 

“And it can’t happen ever again.” Your heart dropped to your stomach for a second as he added, “Not here.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lip

You pressed your lips together, hiding a smile.  

“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.” You walked up to him, placing your palm flat over his chest. His heart was still racing. “Not here.”

You kissed him, and he kissed you back.

“Should we, uh, leave together?” you asked, licking your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “You can leave first.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“See you tomorrow.” He nodded and stole another kiss before you left.

You walked out of the building so put together as if nothing had happened, and kept a straight face until you were inside your car.

“Holy fuck,” you laughed; squealed, almost.

That really happened. You covered your face with both hands trying to come back to earth. 

You decided to drive off before Hotch appeared in the parking lot, or else you wouldn’t resist taking him right there all over again. You replayed what had happened in your head the entire drive and as soon as you made it home, he texted you. 

I hope you know this isn’t something casual or unimportant to me. 

You smiled. You loved that he couldn’t hide his professionalism when texting. 

I know, you texted back, for me either. Believe me

Good, he replied.

Goodnight, Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and from the moment you laid eyes on each other, you agreed: no one could know about it. 

He explained to you, when no one was around, how relationships within the bureau had a reputation. It would’ve been different if he was at the same level as you, but since he was your superior, it wouldn’t be well seen. 

So this being a secret was more for him than for you, but you didn’t mind. It was such a rush. The whole forbidden thing did something to you, which caused you to be horny at work more than once. 

But he made up for it when you saw each other at his place or yours. 

There, it was different. You allowed yourself to be softer and he didn’t hold back any kiss or touch. His affection confused you, though, since the talk hadn’t come up yet. The ‘what are we?’ talk, and you didn’t want to be the girl who asked that after the second date.

There was sex—lots of it—, there were dinners, movie nights, and everything couples did, so it made sense if you asked, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to spoil the magic. 

Because it was magical, your lives took an awful turn when you got your hearts broken and you both were right at the curve to meet each other. He’d been there, in front of you this whole time and a fragment of you glued back together every time he stared into your eyes while nothing was said. While he caressed your face and kissed you just because he wanted to. He managed to heal you between the lines, with subtle words that’d get stuck at the back of your mind. 

And the more you two met outside work—whether it was at his place or yours, his bed, or a fancy hotel room—your feelings for him intensified. 

They were worse on nights like these, when you found yourself tangled between sheets with him after sex, talking about anything and everything. 

He often had an expression of everlasting love. 

At least, you liked to think that way. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked you with that glimmer in his eyes.

You sucked in a breath and brushed the front pieces of his hair with your fingers. “Did you get Morgan’s wedding invitation?”

You don’t know why, but he laughed. “I did, yes.”

“I think we should bring a date.”

“Why?”

“We have a plus one and… I don’t know. I’m gonna be wearing a dress so for your sake, I should have a date. That isn’t you.”

“Oh, really?” He teased, placing a kiss on your ear. 

“This is inappropriate, Agent Hotchner, I’m your subordinate.” You laughed. You were ticklish there.

“Not when you’re in my bed.” He adjusted himself on top of you, lowering to kiss you. “And don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

You laughed again. 

You loved it.

Loved him. 

I hope you liked it!!! I’d love to hear your thoughts about it too!🤭❤️‍🔥

[impactedfates]

Letters Unsent - Genshin + HSR Boys x GN! Reader

★ Summary: After their death, you find a letter. A letter he wrote. A letter he wrote for you, a letter he wished he could’ve given to you personally. A letter describing his feelings.

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Wriothesley, Cyno, Argenti, Jing Yuan + Gepard

★ Genre/Trope: Angst + Hurt/No Comfort

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (Not the Readers)

★ Extra: Angst is fun, angst is nice :)) // Might make another part with different characters if this does well // Not fully proof read // Motivation came back cuz of sad tunes/hj

He said he'd be back, that it'll be quick. Despite your worry, you knew he was strong, so he'd be able to protect himself right? So you trusted him. Trusted him so much that when his co-worker showed up to your door with an expression you couldn't exactly read, you were confused. It was about him but...he was fine right? Then why were they telling you he had passed? The injuries he sustained was...to much for his body to handle? The healers couldn't help him? But...he said he'd be back...you were snapped out of your thoughts when they handed you a letter with your name on it. "I think he knew he wouldn't be able to make it...so...he wanted you to have this...even if he couldn't hear your answer"

"To My Dearest,

If I'd ever be lucky to even call you that. Although this isn't ideally how I wanted to do this. I believe I can only get these things on paper, it's much too difficult otherwise. I was never good with words so I hope this alternative is alright for you.

Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not in a bad way. It took me way too long to figure out the reason for this was due to the fact I loved you.

I loved seeing your smile.

Hearing your laugh.

Loved the small talk we had that would end up with me taking you home. You made me feel something I didn't think I would ever feel, and I'm unsure if I even deserve it.

If I even deserve you.

Whether or not you feel the same way, I hope we can stick together as long as time allows us.

Sincerely

Diluc."

"To Y/N

Hope you're doing well, life in Meropide is still as dull as ever. Well, unless you decide to visit, you really do light up the room when you come by don't you? Or maybe that's just for me.

Anyways, preferably I would be telling you this in person, but more work has piled up. That's also why our little tea sessions have to be put on hold for now. Don't worry, as soon as this all clears up and I investigate this one area, then we can go back to the usual.

I have this one blend I think you'd really like!

Anyways, enough beating around the bush.

I like you.

Like like you.

I love you.

So much.

I can't even begin to describe how much I love you, and even if I did I feel you'd be gagging at how cheesy I was being haha!

But really, I love you so much. I want to be with you, of course I understand if you don't feel the same. But Sigwinnie would have my head if I postponed this confession any longer.

I hope to see you again after my work.

Yours Truly

Wriothesley"

"Hello Y/N

I never thought I'd be writing this kind of letter in my free time. Unfortunately for me, it seems as though fate likes making things harder for me and whenever I want to even try to talk to you about this, it's much more difficult than it was when I practised in the mirror.

Or...

Well...

Practised to Tighnari.

We can ignore that for now though as I'm still trying to put this all together in words.

I would let you borrow my TCG set, you can use it as you please and I'd even let you touch my limited edition cards.

If that's not making any sense then how about a joke?

How does a fruit confess?

They say "Olive You"

.

.

.

Get it, because an olive is a type of fruit, and olive sounds like "I love"

.

.

.

I love you"

"My beloved rose

As much as I'd love to tell you all these words in person, my search for Idrila is still ongoing and I am unsure when I'll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Ever since my eyes laid on your beauty, I thought I had found Idrila herself, but once I got to know you. Even if you weren't the Goddess, you could almost rival her.

The sparkle in your eyes.

The pretty little smile.

Your wonderful personality.

All those things you think are flaws? I love each and everyone of them. They are not flaws to me and it pains me knowing you think of yourself like that.

Once we meet again, I want to make sure you know how deserving you are of these words, how your 'flaws' aren't flaws and how much I love every bit of you.

Though I am aware I find many things worthy of praise. I want to let you know that you're different.

I don't just want to praise you, compliment you. I wish to love you, hold your hands and protect you with my life, no matter what it takes.

I love you so much, and if I could be so lucky to call you mine. Well, I think I'd be the happiest man alive.

I will return soon,

Signed

Argenti"

"Morning, Afternoon or Night

I'm not too sure when the Cloud Knight will give this to you, or when I'll give this to them. Whatever the case, I won't beat around the bush too much.

I love you.

Nothing could compare the feeling in my heart when I see you.

The smile that will never fade as long as you're there by my side.

You are just amazing. In all my years of living, never would I have thought to have met someone as perfect as you.

Even Fu Xuan herself can see just how enamoured I am for you, although for her. She's been using it as an advantage to do work.

'If you finish now you can see them quicker'

'How would they feel knowing that you're not working?'

'Stop dozing off or they won't come to see you ever again!'

I must admit, they all do work. Even if in hindsight, not only would I still see you even with work uncomplete, I'll see you plenty of times and more to come but I don't think you care all too much about my sleep.

But I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, take as much time as you need to consider my words and think about your own feelings.

I'll be waiting where I always am.

Jing Yuan"

"Dear Y/N

Aeons this is embarrassing. But it would be even more embarrassing if Serval kept teasing me about this. I've been putting this off for so long, worried about how you'd react.

Your answer.

And if this would change your view on me...but you're not that kind of person. I know you're not. And after a bit of thinking, to save me from stumbling on my words. I decided to write a letter.

Serval should be the one giving this to you, so I hope she didn't say anything to you, I would nearly die of embarrassment if she did. Anyways!

So...I know it's probably not much hoping Serval wouldn't say something actually, knowing her, she gave it away with one sentence but...

I like you, a lot. More than you could ever know.

And I'm more than happy to talk to you about this in full once I'm back from my mission.

I can only pray you feel the same, but even if you don't.

I hope we stay friends.

Until next time,

Gepard"

WOOO FINALLY GOT THIS DONE AFTER FOREVER.

Sorry if any characters are OOC, I tried my best with writing what I think they'd write in a confession letter, but I hope you enjoyed this anyways!

[toournextadventure]

hate crime

Summary: No one knows what happened to Ghostface after his initial onslaught on New York City. Unfortunately for the population, he didn't disappear; he just got better.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, Scream violence, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night & a novel life masterlist)

Rainy nights in New York City were the best. They gave way to those calm nights in the apartment that led to soft evenings and the best sleep of the week. If one was lucky, they would be able to grab a bite at Sofia’s and really live it up. A nice night, movies on the TV, and a half-finished pie on the counter? What else could a girl want?

A date. Cassidy wanted a date. Her boyfriend wasn’t a prick, but he was just stupid enough to not know the basics of a relationship. For instance, it was raining on a Saturday night? You invite your fucking girlfriend over so you can both get fucking laid. It wasn’t fucking rocket science. But no, he just had to watch the game with his fucking friends, and leave her to do absolutely nothing in her empty ass apartment.

Instead, she was alone. All alone, watching some shitty movie while he was probably having the time of his life.

Prick.

Well, at least she had ice cream to accompany her. A delicious pint of raspberry cheesecake. Just one bite was enough to transport her to heaven, and she would argue with anyone who thought otherwise. It had been long enough since Cassidy had put it in the freezer that it was just hard enough to make a nice bite, but not too hard to put up a fight.

It was perfect.

Cassidy’s phone vibrated loudly on the counter when she opened the cutlery drawer. It wasn’t all that unusual to get calls at odd hours; work, school, and friends made sure she kept her phone available at all times. And she answered them. So it was instinctual to pick up the phone and accept the call as she fished out a spoon and closed the drawer.

“I’m not interested,” she said before her friend on the other end could even speak.

“Uh, that’s good,” an unknown voice answered, “because I’m not selling.”

Cassidy’s brows narrowed. “Who is this?” She put the spoon in her mouth as she waited for an answer. A warm spoon was optimal for ice cream.

“A friend of a friend,” the voice said. It was hard to tell if it was a guy or a girl. “They dared me to call.”

“Friend of a friend?” She hummed, thinking about who it could be. “Was it David?”

The person on the other end of the line laughed. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“I knew it, that prick,” she sighed. It was no surprise it was David, he would do anything for a cheap laugh. “What do you get out of this shitty prank anyway?”

“Well, it depends,” the voice answered.

Cassidy leaned forward on her counter and smiled to herself. “On what?”

“How long I can keep you on the call,” they said, matching her tone. “Wanna split the $60?”

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out far longer than necessary as she grabbed her pint of ice cream and made her way to the living room. “I guess I can’t turn down $30.”

Cassidy pressed the phone between her cheek and shoulder while she moved. Her hip bumped against the recliner, but it didn’t phase her; she hit it more often than not. As she sat down in the chair, she could hear similar shuffling on the other end of the line. Nothing about it phased her.

“So,” the caller said, drawing out the “o” for far too long. “You doing anything exciting tonight?”

Cassidy chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah, me, myself, and I are really living it up.” She put a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and left it there as she turned on Scary Movie 5. How exciting.

“Well,” the caller said with a barely hidden laugh, “what are the three of you doing tonight?”

“A Scary Movie marathon.” She took another bite of her ice cream. “Probably for the fifth time this semester.”

“So you like them.”

“Love them,” she answered instantly. “I could watch them all day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then what’s your favourite Scary Movie?”

Cassidy looked down at her ice cream and scraped the spoon over the top. That was a pretty good question. The humour in each movie was top tier to her, and that wasn’t negotiable. She couldn’t compare them on that aspect because they all depended on which movies they were making fun of. But there was one movie that stood out from all the rest, she supposed.

“Probably the first one,” she finally said. “It’s a classic.”

“Isn’t that the one based on those Stab movies?”

“That’s the one,” she said with a singular nod that no one could see.

The movie continued to play on the screen.

“Have you ever seen the Stab movies?”

“Fuck no,” Cassidy said before the unknown voice could even finish the question. “Horror movies give me the creeps. Especially when they’re based on real people.” A minuscule shiver wracked her body as if to prove her point.

She heard a deep breath on the other end of the line. “You know, you really should watch the original.” Another breath. “It’s to die for.”

Something about the tone of that last sentence put Cassidy on edge. Perhaps it was simply because she was home alone while the storm continued to rage outside. None of her friends talked like that. Sure, this person was a friend of a friend, but it was still a bit odd.

This person was a bit odd. Was the $30 really worth talking to a weirdo all night? She could be settled with a blanket and paying attention to her movie. But no, she just had to answer the phone and accept a shitty deal. She would need to tell Heather about this whole weird situation later.

“Hey, how much longer until we get that money from David?” Cassidy asked. She couldn’t stop thinking about that last thing the person had said, but she chose to try and ignore it.

“Just a few more minutes,” the caller said in a breathy tone. It was creepy. “Which movie are you watching?”

“What?”

“For your marathon,” they clarified. “Which one?”

“Oh,” she chuckles humourlessly. Nervously.

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to tell the truth anymore. There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach. She hesitantly placed the half-empty pint of ice cream on the side table, soon accompanied by the spoon she had licked clean.

“The third one,” she finally answered.

“No you’re not.” A lump forced its way into her throat. “That’s the fifth.”

Her entire body was frozen while the words ran laps around her mind. What the hell was going on? Her nerves felt like they were engulfed in fire, leaving her simultaneously too hot and frozen. That wasn’t right. The words didn’t form any proper reason in her mind, but she understood the sinking feeling it left in her chest.

“How do you know which movie I’m watching?” She asked as she slowly stood up from her chair.

A heavy breath. “Because I can see your screen.”

As soon as the words pieced together in her head, Cassidy ran to her balcony window. The curtains were closed. They weren’t the only windows into her apartment, but they were the only ones that faced the TV. As far as she knew, no other window could see her screen; a deliberate furnishing choice on her part.

“Listen,” she said breathlessly as she stared at the closed curtains. “I’ll tell David we talked all night if you want.” There was no response. “You can even keep all the money.”

A taunting laugh.

“I never said I talked to David.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. She knew she should have hung up at first. Who the hell was this freak? It was New York City, there were plenty of freaks around, but this? This was just psychotic. Nobody in their right mind would do this shit!

She quickly tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder again and grabbed the curtains with both hands-

“-Open it and I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. How would they even get into the apartment? She froze and reconsidered. How else could they have known what was on her TV? God, what was going on? She thought about the ramifications for far too long before letting go of the curtains. They shifted for a few moments before finally settling back into place.

“Who are you?” Cassidy’s voice was weak.

“You assumed our mutual friend was David.” She waited impatiently. “But surely you haven’t forgotten our dear friend Anika.”

Cassidy laughed bitterly. “Are you fucking serious?” She stomped through the apartment to grab the ice cream and dirty spoon. “Did that loser and her freak girlfriend put you up to this?” She practically threw the ice cream back into the freezer. “Because it’s pathetic.”

Of course that freak had caused this. She hadn’t bullied Anika and Mindy for nothing. Cassidy was a patient soul, it was true, but even she had her limits. No one wanted to hear those weirdos talk about stupid movies 24/7, especially when it wasn’t necessary. Didn’t they know there were better, more important things in the world?

“Those are some strong opinions to have,” the caller said over the sound of the spoon hitting Cassidy’s sink. “Especially for someone in your position.”

She rested her hip on the counter. “And what position would that be?”

“You can open your balcony window now, Cassidy.”

The curtains of the balcony were swaying. If she strained her ears, she could hear the rain falling a little louder. Would it be smart to open the curtains and see what was out there? Or maybe she should just hang up, call the police, and let them deal with it. After all, the police had never done anything wrong to her, surely she could trust them.

But she wanted to know. She wanted to know what those freaks had managed to pull off all on their own. Cassidy wouldn’t have called them stupid; at least not Anika. But there was no way she would have said any of them were smart. They were all just a bunch of down on their luck kids who had gotten into Blackmoore out of pity, not intellect.

Whether she had fully intended to or not, she let her feet carry her toward the balcony. As she got closer, she could hear the rain and wind clearly; the balcony window was open behind the curtains.

“How do you know my name?” She asked even though it was a stupid question. If this person was friends with Anika, then that was how they knew.

Still.

“Everyone knows your name.”

She reached out and grabbed the curtain with both hands.

“Or they’re about to.”

Cassidy closed her eyes, threw the curtains open, and screamed. She used every ounce of breath and energy in her body to release the most blood curdling scream she could manage. But when she opened her eyes, the scream died down in her throat.

There was nothing on the balcony. The door was open, but there was nothing there. Not in the doorway, not on the actual balcony, and not across the street. Hell, the only thing she could see was the poor potted plant that she had let die last year and hadn’t thrown out yet.

This was all just some sick joke.

“You know, this is really pathetic,” Cassidy said calmly even though her heart was still pounding in her chest. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Fine, call them.” She grabbed her phone and looked for the “end call” button. “They’ll find out all about your dirty little secret.”

She froze.

“Turn around, Cassidy.”

Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. Mixed with the rain and wind coming in through the open balcony window that she couldn’t bring herself to close, it was deafening. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to see what could possibly be hiding behind her. It could all be some cruel joke and the apartment could be empty.

Or not.

She took a few short, quick breaths and braced herself before finally turning around quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet. There, in the middle of her apartment, was Heather. Heather, the best fuck she’d ever had, tied up in the chair like a piece of meat. There was a gash on her head that was dripping blood into her eyes, but aside from that there weren’t any other physical injuries.

“Heather?” Cassidy said in disbelief.

“Please help me,” Heather cried. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Cassidy dropped the phone without hanging up. She didn’t care anymore. All of this had gone too far. Those creeps had crossed too many lines. Messing with her? Fine. It was pathetic, but fine. But finding her secret hookup? Didn’t they know she had a reputation? What would her boyfriend think if he found out? Actually, he would probably think it was hot. Maybe that was worse.

“Did Anika do this to you?” She asked as she attempted to untie the knots in the rope. It was probably the first time in her life she had ever regretted having acrylics.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Heather said with a sniffle. A drop of blood fell onto the rope. “Her and her geek friends are obsessed with this shit.”

“We’ll call the cops later,” Cassidy said. “I’m tired of their freaky, “poor us” bullshit.”

The ropes weren’t budging, and her fingers were feeling raw. How had they managed to do such a thorough job so quickly? Perhaps because, like she had known from the very beginning, they were all a bunch of freaks. A bunch of freaks who had no lives, no real friends, and no chance of living like normal people. She smirked to herself. They’d have one hell of a time getting any sort of job after college if she had anything to say about it-

-the floor creaked.

Cassidy’s fingers froze. There was only one place in her apartment that the floor creaked. And it wasn’t underneath her or Heather. She looked up slowly. First she saw Heather, sitting there impatiently and waiting for her to get her out. Then the gash on Heather’s face.

Then the cloaked figure standing behind her.

Then the Ghostface mask shrouded in a black hood.

The Ghostface tilted his head at her. She couldn’t move. It felt like the air had frozen in her lungs. She just had to kneel there and watch as he lifted a gloved hand with a giant knife and waved at her with two fingers. The knife was huge. His free hand lifted just as slowly and pushed the mask back inch by inch until she could see the bottom of his face.

The smile was accentuated by the deep scars stretching across both cheeks.

Cassidy opened her mouth to scream before something came from behind her and pressed against her throat.

She never made a sound.

—---

The pool of blood slowly inched across the tarp that had been carefully arranged underneath the two college girls. It was wide enough to catch any accidental splatter, yet thick enough to keep it from spilling out. A wise purchase for a wise killer. Or two.

Ghostface stepped forward, standing over the corpses. It wasn’t their proudest moment; there had been a few hitches in the plan. But when the result was the same, well, they supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. They grabbed the mask and yanked it off.

“You jumped the gun,” Tara said breathlessly. The adrenaline was still running through her veins; she had grown to love it.

The second Ghostface removed their mask next.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.” You looked down at the corpses of your enemies with glee and disgust. “She’s just such a bitch.”

You both continued to stand there, neither one daring to make the first move. The silence after a kill was one of the more satisfying moments to you. No more screaming, no more steel cutting through flesh. Just the sounds of your breathing and the blood rushing through your ears.

“I didn’t know they were gay,” you finally said. “Or closeted, I guess.”

“I think Mindy said they were experimenting,” Tara speculated. “They both tried to hit on Anika at one point.”

You hummed in response and continued to look at them. Not that you had stopped. That was the one thing you didn’t think you would ever really get used to. Sure, your family business was… a bit risque on its own, but this was different. You would argue with Dicky all day every day, but knife wounds were more gruesome than gunshots.

“Does this make us homophobic?” You asked. “Was this a hate crime?”

“I-” Tara stopped and closed her mouth. It made you feel a little better that she had to think about it too. “No,” she finally said with a slow nod. “We’re doing the world a favour.”

You smiled. “God, I love you.”

“Love me while we clean up,” she demanded even though you saw her smile. “Get moving.”

The cleanup process, all of you agreed, was the worst part. It was methodical, time consuming, and boring. You would much rather spend the time with Tara, not cleaning up after the two bitches that bullied all of you like you were still in fucking highschool. Truly, it was almost embarrassing for them. You didn’t want to clean up after their mess again.

But you liked the time you got with Tara. Since the whole original Ghostface debacle, she had lightened up. She still bullied you, but honestly? It was a turn on. You wouldn’t dare tell her to stop. If there ever came a day that you didn’t want Tara Carpenter to bully you? It would be the end of the world.

Cleaning up with Sam, however, was a beast.

That’s why you stuck with Tara. Not just because you loved her, of course, but it was a wonderful bonding activity. You hadn’t wanted to bring her into the family business because, well, that was just dangerous. But this? It was nice. And honestly? It got the both of yours adrenaline going and usually led to some of the best date nights.

…

Maybe you both needed more therapy.

“The scary movie question was clever,” you said after you had finally managed to haul the tarp - and the corpses - to the trash chute.

“Thank you,” Tara said with a genuine smile. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

“You should be,” you encouraged. “I thought Cassidy was gonna hear me laughing.”

“You would’ve been sleeping on the couch,” Tara replied. She was serious, but you knew the truth; she would’ve slept on the couch with you.

The next stage of cleaning was far easier on the back. It was basic cleaning, to make the apartment look lived in, but not abandoned. And certainly not like a murder had occurred. Or, you supposed it was a double murder. God, you still couldn’t get over how much of a bitch Cassidy and Heather were. You really did feel a million pounds lighter now that they were gone.

“You know,” you said as you rested your hip on the counter while Tara made sure no fingerprints were anywhere. “Blood looks really good on you.”

“Shut up,” she said quickly. You still saw the blush on her cheeks.

You weren’t lying though. The dark, now-dried blood was a wonderful match to her eyes. It also looked lovely on her skin. You couldn’t really explain what it was; maybe it was the taboo of it all (you definitely needed more therapy). Whatever it was, it was almost like she was glowing.

Maybe you were just in love.

Tara was still checking the kitchen counter when you stepped up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist. Her body seemed to relax in your arms. Like instinct, she leaned back into you and you could hold her closer. You were like two pieces to the same puzzle; your bodies fit perfectly together.

“It’s kinda hot,” you said before placing a kiss on her cheek. She tasted faintly of copper.

“You’re just deranged,” she said softly.

“Only for you,” you said. Your next kiss was placed on her jaw.

“We can’t do this here,” she said with a sigh. “We’re almost done.”

“We haven’t cleaned the bedroom yet,” you offered. “And I’ve got another tarp in my bag.”

She didn’t argue.

“Think of it as an extra “fuck you” to Cassidy,” you continued. “We both know how much you hated her.”

Your arm pulled her tighter against you as you placed a third kiss right behind her ear. Just going off her silence alone, you knew she would cave. Tara did her best to keep things professional on the scene, but you knew how to win her over. And you knew how much she loved it.

“Okay,” she finally said. Whether she was aware of it or not, her head tilted to give you more access to her neck. “But only a quickie.”

“Seeing you like this?” You said as you bent down and swept an arm under her knees. She shrieked lightly before wrapping her arms around your neck. “I don’t think I could last very long anyway.”

You carried her to your bag and bent down so she could grab it before heading directly to the bedroom.

In the background, the credits of Scary Movie 5 rolled on the TV.

[dreamescapeswriting]

A Love Worth Fighting For ~ JJK

⤜WORD COUNT: 2.7K

⤜GENRE: Established relationships, angst to fluff, a little bit of toxic from Jungkook, feelings of being unwanted/unneeded

⤜PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The soft glow of the city lights spilt into the dimly lit apartment, casting shadows around the apartment as you stood by the window, phone clutched tightly in your hand. The familiar buzz of anticipation tingled in your veins as you waited for Jungkook's voice to fill the silence that had settled between you both. He'd been on tour for what felt like forever now and you were finally deciding that you wanted to talk to him. 

Usually, the two of you would stick to texting on occasion since you knew how busy he was and you didn't want him to think of you as "clingy" but the more you thought about it the more you realised it wasn't "clingy" to want to hear from your boyfriend. You stared out at the city and watched as couples together laughed and played together in the streets. You missed Jungkook and you weren't afraid to let him know that anymore.

When the two of you had started your relationship you'd been completely understanding of everything but as time went by and you saw how his band members kept in contact with their partners you wanted more from him. You at least wanted to speak to him more when he was away, to feel a little less lonely than you did right now.

When he finally answered, the warmth you'd been craving dissolved into icy silence, there was now happy greeting from your boyfriend, just a grumbled "What is it?" as he finally answered the phone to you after what felt like the tenth phone call.

"I miss you, Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling, anxiety beginning to bubble up inside of you as you thought about his reaction to it. Something you never should have had to fear with a boyfriend and yet here you were, second guessing everything you said and did.

"I miss us." You finished. There was a pause on the other end of the line, a pregnant silence that stretched between you like a taut wire.

"I'm busy, Yn," he said, his voice cold and distant, cutting through you like a dull knife that wanted to hurt you as much as it could but as slowly as humanly possible. This was nothing like the Jungkook you'd fallen in love with. Maybe he was tired or stressed but it didn't give him a reason to talk to you like this. The two of you needed to talk like adults and communicate what the other was feeling.

"You know how it is." He mumbled once again, his patience growing thin and your heart clenched at his words, the ache of longing swelling within your chest.

"But I need you," you pleaded, your voice cracking as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

"I need you here with me." But before you could utter another word, the line went dead, leaving you standing alone in the suffocating silence of your shared apartment. You couldn't believe he would even do this to you after you'd done everything you could to support him. 

You'd moved from your home country to be with him in Korea for the brief periods he was home, you upended your entire life because he had asked you to but he couldn't find five minutes in his day to even let you know he was okay?

For hours, you sat by the window, lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts as tears streaked down your cheeks. How could he do this to you? Sighing to yourself you made your way to the wardrobes and began to rifle through the drawers until you found what you were looking for, your passport ready to be used. If Jungkook thought you were going to stick around any longer to be treated as nothing better than a side piece then he was sorely mistaken.

Without a second thought about it, you dragged out some bags, your stomach churning as you folded and placed everything into your suitcase,  each item weighing down on you as a reminder of everything you were leaving behind. You knew you couldn't take much with you right away but you could ship everything else before you went for a flight.

You couldn't continue to live in the shadow of a love that had grown cold and distant, and you refused not to listen to your own heart anymore.  So you zipped up your bags with trembling hands and sighed to yourself, looking around at the now practically empty wardrobe and began to make your way out of the wardrobe and to your laptop, you needed to get a flight as soon as possible to get out of there.

As Jungkook stepped into your apartment, weary from the road and longing for the familiar embrace of you, he was met with an unsettling emptiness that sent a shiver down his spine. The flight had been awful and he was ready to crawl into bed beside you but for some reason the air seemed heavier, charged with an unspoken tension that prickled at his senses.

"Yn?" He called out, hearing nothing back except from the sound of a dripping tap in the kitchen, the house was freezing, as though you'd been gone for a while but it was 3 in the morning. You had no where to be at three in the morning. 

"Babe. I get you're mad but I'm back now, I'm ready to talk about it....I'm sorry!" He cried out, throwing his keys down onto the coffee table when he realised that there were things missing. Photos of the two of you were ripped from the frames. His heart quickened its pace as he called out your name again, the sound falling flat against the silence of the apartment. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind as he searched every corner of the place, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

You had left him.

The realisation struck him like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs as he staggered backward, his world crumbling around him. Images of your arguments flashed before his eyes, each word spoken in anger etched into his memory. The last time you'd spoken to him, you'd been begging for him to talk and he just ignored you. Choosing to hang up the phone and deal with his stress alone rather than talking it out with you.

Regret washed over him in waves, mingling with the bitter taste of remorse as he sank to his knees, his hands trembling with the weight of his own guilt. How could he have been so blind? How could he have let you slip through his fingers without even realising it? The two of you were meant to be, he knew that, anyone with eyes knew that and yet he'd let you slip away without giving it a second thought. 

He had been selfish, neglectful, and cruel, driving away the one person who had loved him unconditionally. Tears blurred his vision as he whispered your name into the emptiness, a desperate plea for forgiveness that hung heavy in the air. But deep down, he knew that mere words could never mend the shattered pieces of their love. As he sank to his knees, the weight of his regret crushing him like a vice, he knew that he had lost you but he knew that he was going to do anything within his power to get you back. 

The small café buzzed with the gentle hum of conversation, the soft aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries. You moved with ease behind the counter, your movements graceful as you prepared drinks and chatted with customers at the same time. You'd been home for almost a month now and you'd started a new life, you'd gotten a job and decided that this was your fresh start with everything.

As you worked, a group of old ladies settled themselves at a nearby table, their curious eyes lingering on you with a mixture of interest and intrigue. With mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you approached their table, a warm smile playing at the corners of your lips. You knew that all of them had been debating your arrival back home for weeks now and you wanted to tease them a little on it.

Not even your own family knew what had happened between you and Jungkook. You didn't want to risk a huge public blow out, you just wanted time alone and clearly he did too. 

He could have been home from tour for almost a week now meaning he knew you were gone and you hadn't received a single call or a text asking where you were. Meaning...he didn't care.

"Good morning, ladies!" you greeted cheerfully, your voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the café. 

"What can I get for you today?" The old ladies exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Yn, dear, we couldn't help but notice that you're back home. What brings you back to our little town?" Your smile widened as you leaned in closer, a playful glint in your eyes. 

"Ah, you know how it is, ladies," you replied with a wink.  "A girl needs a break from the hustle and bustle of the big city every now and then. Besides, who can resist the charm of our quaint little town?" You smirked at them, you hated small towns where everyone knew everyone's business, you preferred being alone in a big city where no one spoke to you. Where you'd never see your boyfriend. Or where everyone was so rude toward you for simply walking too slow or even too fast.

The old ladies chuckled at your response, their eyes twinkling with amusement as they nodded in agreement. 

"You tease us too much, you can't blame us for wanting to know what happened," one of them said with a smile. Your heart tightened in your chest, you knew everyone would have their own theories to it but you'd tried not to think about it too much.

"But we can't help but wonder if there's more to the story than you're letting on." Your grin widened as you leaned back, placing a hand on your hip and shaking your head at them all.

"Oh, you know me, always keeping secrets," You teased, your laughter ringing out like a melody in the cosy confines of the café. 

"We keep secrets." One of them smirked and you shook your head,

"My lips are sealed. Now, how about I whip up some of my famous cinnamon rolls to sweeten the mystery?" With a chorus of delighted nods, the old ladies eagerly accepted your offer, their laughter mingling with the warm chatter of the café. And as you disappeared into the kitchen, a sense of contentment washed over you. You liked being back but it was getting harder to hide the truth from people and a part of you felt lost without Jungkook. You missed what you used to have, part of you longed to go back but Jungkook had made it clear by never messaging that things were over between you both.

The soft chime of the bell signalled the arrival of a new customer, and you had flour all over your hands so you called out with practised ease,

"Welcome! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like." You called out without looking up, finally washing off your hands in the sink but as murmurs and gasps rippled through the café, your curiosity piqued, and you lifted your gaze, only to find Jungkook standing there, his presence like a sudden thunderclap in the peaceful atmosphere of the café.

Shock and anger surged through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. How dare he show up here, uninvited and unwelcome, after everything that had happened between you? What was he even thinking? Someone could see him, photograph him and it'd be all over the news.

Yet, under the anger you felt toward him, a part of you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that danced in the depths of your chest. Despite your hurt, there was still a part of you that longed for his presence, that yearned for the warmth of his touch and the familiarity of his voice.

For a moment, your eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, each word left unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you. And then, with a defiant tilt of your chin, you turned away, busying yourself with the tasks at hand, determined not to let him see the effect his unexpected appearance had on you.

Jungkook smiled at a few of the people in the cafe, sending a wink at the old ladies who were all smirking at him. They'd been the ones letting him know where you were. He'd been in your hometown for over three days now searching for you, your family refused to reveal anything to him so he went searching. Jungkook made his way into the kitchens and you sighed a little, refusing to look at him.

"Why are you here, Jungkook?" You asked, your voice soft yet tinged with a hint of steel. 

"After everything that's happened, why would you come looking for me?" Jungkook's gaze never wavered as he reached out to gently cup your trembling hands in his own, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

"Because I can't imagine my life without you, Yn," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, he'd planned everything he wanted to say to you but all of that had flown from his mind the second he saw you here. 

"I've made mistakes, more than I care to admit, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right." A tear slipped down your cheek as you struggled to contain the tumult of emotions swirling within you. 

"But what about your career, your dreams?" You asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.  

"You can't give any of that up. You're just bored now you're back from tour." You mumbled at him, harshly and he didn't blame you. 

"I'd give it up if it meant being with you," You scoffed at him, turning around to face him and you saw him properly for the first time. Bags under his eyes, his hair a mess, facial hair even growing, he was letting himself go.

Jungkook shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. It didn't matter if his dreams were in Korea, if you were here then he was here too. Being away from you for so long had given him clarity that he knew he didn't want that life without you.

"You are my dream, Yn," he said, his voice unwavering. Gasps sounded inside of the cafe as onlookers took int he scene in front of them, all of them interested to see what was going to happen. 

"Without you, none of it means anything. I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant I got to keep you by my side." And in that moment, as the weight of his words settled upon you, you felt something shift within your heart. With a trembling breath, you reached out to brush away the tears that stained his cheeks. It was going to take a lot of work to get back to being together the way you used to be but if he was willing to work then so were you.

"I'm tired of running, Jungkook. I'm tired of being second best to your job. I get that you love it but...I need more," you whispered, your voice barely a whisper in the hushed stillness of the café.

"But if we're going to do this, it has to be different this time. We have to do better, together." A smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook's lips as he pulled you into his embrace, the warmth of his touch a beacon of hope in the darkness. 

"I promise, baby," he whispered against your hair, his voice a fervent prayer. 

"I'll spend the rest of my days proving it to you." He whispered, prepared to do whatever it took to keep you in his life. 

It had been a month of you both alone in your home town and you were finally prepairing to go back to Seoul together, your things were packed and shipped but you were saying goodbye to everyone you'd grown to know in the cafe.

"If he hurts you again, you come get me." Red - one of the elderly ladies - said as she looked at you, arching a brow. Jungkook had grown to know all of them on a personal level but he knew they were all looking out for you,

"Yes, ma'am." You promised, hugging her tightly as Jungkook smirked from the doorway, happy that you'd made friends.

"You better bring her back more too! I want you both here for more 80th Birthday party!" She screams at him and he chuckles.

"I promise we'll be here," He told her, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into his embrace.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[lov1ngdrysdale]

could you write something where Jamie’s teammates chirp him for you having hickeys🫣🫣

vampire ✧.* jd9

pairings: jamie drysdale x fem!reader

summary: jamie's teammates bug him after an eventful evening with you.

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT !!! oral (m. receiving)

a/n: this sucks IM SORRY. not proofread yet !!!

"sheesh drysdale, have some fun last night?" cam inquires mockingly as jamie takes off his compression shirt.

some of the guys thought cam's comment was funny enough to chime in themselves.

"you dating a vampire dude?"

"does that not...i don't know...hurt?"

"someone got a little victory present, huh drysdale?"

"dude, you're never living this down."

jamie looks down at his chest and abdomen and turns red. the memories of last night come flooding back to him.

• • •

you push jamie onto the hotel bed and crawl towards where he's sat. he opens his legs wide enough for you to climb between them. one of your hands rests on his chest, while the other cups his square jaw. you pepper kisses all across his face and onto his lips. shortly, you move down his neck to your favorite part of jamie's body: his chest. jamie's hand snakes around your waist and slides down to your ass, giving it a few soft squeezes.

as much as you wanted jamie to scoop you up and slip you underneath him, it was his night. the flyers had just won an incredibly close game, and jamie had the overtime goal. it was his night.

giving your boyfriend your undivided attention, you start to suck on the tender skin of his pecs. he hisses when you sneakily bite the skin, but replaces that sound with quiet moans when you lick the sensitive spot.

you make a path of love marks trailing from his left pec to his right, winding from one side of his abs, to the other, and all the way down to his bulge. needless to say, this took a lot longer than you'd anticipated, but after seeing the end result you were quite pleased with your work.

jamie lays back between the pillows like an angel. his soft skin glistened from the thin sheet of sweat he'd earned from trying to remain calm as you nicked and sucked at his sensitive skin. he's left in his red plaid boxers that you'd recently gifted him.

"god, y/n. looks so sexy, but hurts like a bitch." jamie reaches to his side, swiping a finger across the raw skin and quickly pulls away.

"not done yet jam. was so proud of you tonight, want to show you just how proud i am. so lucky to be your girl."

jamie's head lulls farther back into the pillows at the sound of your voice and your words. you help him pull the boxers down, and his throbbing cock springs upright.

you do not hesitate to take it into your hand, giving it a few pumps before bringing it to your lips. to slightly tease jamie, you press your lips to the tip and kitty-lick it. you wrap your lips around the tip and swirl your tongue around it. jamie brings a leg up into a hinge and thrusts his groin towards your mouth, encouraging you to take his full length.

obeying your boyfriend, you press a kiss on his right thigh and slide his dick all the way into your mouth. you don't stop until you can feel the base of his cock on your lips. jamie whines as you take him. you begin to guide your mouth up and down his member, going at a steady pace.

you look through your eyelashes up towards jamie and he is in a state of pure ecstasy. his eyes are squeezed shut as one hand rests on the back of your head, the other over his mouth. he muffles his moans as best as possible to not concern the hotel neighbors.

"fuck angel, feels so good. so close y/n."

you quicken your pace and feel jamie's body begin to go limp. his knee falls and his hands both rise to grasp your hair. he's guiding your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. you take his warm cum letting it coat your throat.

jamie's catching his breath as you swallow his cum and get up from the bottom of the bed. you crawl up to jamie's chest and rest your head on it. he's still breathing quite heavily, and the layer of sweat only thickened while you pleasured him.

you run a hand through his sleek hair and plant a kiss to his cheek.

"I love you so much jamie", you blurt out.

"I love you so much more angel. thank you for tonight", jamie says as he runs his hand across your back, it is soothing.

"you made me so proud tonight babe, I love being yours." you look up at jamie and he gives you a wide, toothy smile--your favorite.

jamie places a kiss on the top of your head and looks down at his chest once more, "the guys are gonna chirp the fuck outta me tomorrow."

you laugh at his distress and innocently ask, "so...should i not do this again?"

he's quick to answer you, "absolutely not, it's worth it. but shit, cam is gonna never leave me alone."

"well at least you have a girlfriend." you roll your eyes at jamie; sometimes you're not sure if you're dating jamie or if cam is.

[leaderwonim]

unconditional love. ✧ park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: bittersweet fluff, coming of age angst

you liked park sunghoon, you truly did. he was kind, intelligent, and had that soft introverted persona on the outside.

when you got to know him, he became the most funny and loudest person to ever exist, which had your heart doing backflips.

it wasn’t him that was the issue. it was you. you always had commitment issues, never being able to settle down because of your past pulling you behind. i mean—how could anyone ever like you? you felt as thought you were too loud, too annoying, too irritable, just too much.

despite your brain constantly bringing you down, park sunghoon loved you. he loved every single piece of you, the way you’d blow your perfect hair out of your face as you concentrated on the textbook in front of you, the way your eyebrows would furrow when you didn’t quite catch a question or answer, the way you’d prop your head onto your knees as a way to comfort yourself.

god, park sunghoon swore you were the one. he didn’t care that his friends warned him about your earned title of being a ghoster when it came to relationships, he didn’t care that it felt like he was constantly putting in more effort than you.

as long as he’s got you, he doesn’t care. so how did the two of you end up in this situation?

“i don’t get it,” sunghoon frowns, “what did i do wrong?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say exasperatedly, “in fact, you were perfect sunghoon. you were everything i wanted and more—it’s just me.”

park sunghoon hated the classic it’s me not you excuse when it came to situations like these. but because it’s you, he lets it slide, even though he already feels the tears coming.

“i don’t want to hurt you any longer, hoonie. you have to understand i’m ending this because i care about you too much to put you through hell.”

sunghoon solemnly nods, knowing whatever he’ll say won’t change anything, that it’s already too late and you’ve already made up your mind.

it’s cruel, he thinks. life. how it could be so depressing and meekly all at once.

it wasn’t until a year later that sunghoon and you crossed paths again. you two were now sophomores in college, and had even attended the same university.

you had gotten a boyfriend, finally deciding to settle down after maturing and realizing how much of a piece of shit you were to all the boys at your high school.

his name was heeseung and he had treated you like a princess, reminding you of how sunghoon used to treat you back in senior year.

now here you were, sitting on one of the university steps with your head hung low. your parents had given you the call about them divorcing, right in the middle of your sophomore year. you were miles away, and was heartbroken knowing your family was splitting in two without you being there physically to support them.

“hey, you okay?”

you knew that voice better than anyone.

“hoon?” you sniffle. “i’m sorry—why am i even calling you that.”

“it’s okay.” he reassures you, patting your back as he takes a seat. “what’s wrong?”

“parents are getting divorce,” you scoff. “guess thats karma for all the things i put you through.”

“don’t say that.” sunghoon gently wipes away your tears, frowning when he sees more appear.

“you shouldn’t even be comforting me, i treated you like shit sunghoon, i got a new boyfriend right after i said i couldn’t settle down with you.”

“who cares?” sunghoon says, and for the first time, you don’t see the romantic love he used to have in his eyes for you. “we’re young! of course you’re going to find other people.”

you’re in awe at the maturity sunghoon is displaying. you knew it took a lot of courage for him to do so.

“why are you being so nice, sunghoon?”

“the world is already cruel, yn.” sunghoon sighs. “so therefore, i won’t be.”

and although his words won’t stop the divorce of your parents or the sadness filling your chest, it makes you feel a tad bit lighter, knowing that you had someone like park sunghoon in your life.

[psychesalcove]

WE WANNA TALK ABOUT SEX BUT WE'RE NOT ALLOWED

college au!percy jackson x fem!reader

⚠️: reader has anxiety, percy being too obvious for his own good, shitty writing (im sorry guys 😭), mentions of sex, cursing, emotional cheating (on percys end), not proofread at all, mentions of an anxiety attack, insecure reader

IN WHICH: you and percy have been dating for around a year. however, you feel like he is always choosing annabeth over you, even if he isn't aware of it. tonight, you decided to confront him about it, ending the night not knowing where your relationship stands with him.

requested: yes, by anon

a/n: GUYS IM SO SORRY IM KIKE NOT GOOD AT WRITING ANGST BUT I TRIES 😭😭 JUST MESSAGW ME ABAIN AND ILL REWRITE IT IN A DIFFERENT WAY BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!😔

you knew this talk had to happen at some point. it was inevitable. there was this unspoken tension between you and percy, and you weren't even sure if he was aware of it. for a while, you thought it was just your anxiety driven brain making you feel the tension—but you soon realized it was there and not made up.

percy and you had been dating for around a year, beggening right before your freshman year of college started. before that, percy had been in a relationship with annabeth. you were on neutral terms with her;you weren't best friends, but you also didn't hate eachother. but lately, that feeling of neutrality with her was slipping away.

you knew percy and her were close, but you didn't understand why they were as close as they were. you knew percy would never cheat, but you figured he didn't understand not being there for his partner.

anytime you wanted to be around him, he would say that annabeth needed him for something. reviewing notes for class, wanting help with decorating her condo, helping her with a new recipe she was doing, anything really.

at first, you didn't mind that much. you knew they weren't sleeping with eachother or anything, but as time went on, going into the last quarter of the school year, you knew that he would go back to annabeth sooner rather than later. his mind was always occupied with her, somehow managing to bring her up in every conversation you have with him.

ᝰ

you sat on the beige couch that you and percy had bought at Ikea last summer, looking out to the balcony area, waiting for percy to arrive. as much as you didn't want to talk to him about this, you knew the longer you put it off the harder the talk would be. you assumed he would be getting back in around 5 minutes, knowing the route he takes in his car to get to the condo from campus.

suddenly the old wooden door creaked open, disturbing the silence that blanketed the room. you sighed lightly, still wondering how to even start a conversation with percy.

percy soon came into vision, dropping his jansport backpack onto the floor before turning to you. "hi, pretty," he hummed. "how was your day?"

you decided to ease into a normal conversation between the two of you before asking the inevitable question that could determine the future of your relationship. "it was fine, english has been kicking my ass recently though, how about you?" you asked, moving around so you were in a more comfortable position.

"it was also fine, but if your having trouble with english, i could ask annabeth—" you cut him off with a sigh, knowing that was your que to steer the conversation in another direction.

"could you sit down percy, please?" you say, making eye contact with him for the first time since he came home. "we really need to talk,"

"uhm.. yeah of course" he says looking around the room quickly before sitting down on the sofa. "if this is about those mint cookies, i did eat them, didn't mean to though, promise." he explains quickly, looking at you with a small smile.

you press your lips into a thin line, knowing how different of a conversation this is going to be than that. "percy, where do you see our relationship going?"

there it is. the idea is out there, in the open, for percy to do anything with.

you watch his eyes widen slightly, looking at you with a questioning look. "what do you mean? i mean, obviously we're going to keep living together, maybe get a better place for next year, we could even make our new kitchen like annabeths–"

"there you go again talking about annabeth!" you said, raising your voice slightly. "i know that the two of you are friends, and i'm fine with that, but not if it's getting in the way of our relationship. almost every conversation you bring her up:annabeth this annabeth that. i know you two are exs, and again, i'm fine with that, but that also means you could have romantiic feelings about her still. i really don't think we should even be doing this if you do, percy."

he sat up straighter at the tone of your voice and what you said to him. "why would i still have feelings for a annabeth? that's why we chose to end our relationship, because neither of us had feelings for eachother!" he exclaimed, attempting to keep a calm voice.

"percy, i really just don't think you're in the mental place to be in a relationship with me, or maybe anyone right now. i don't know what to do—"

percy cut you off, "what do you mean you don't know what to do? i'm the one being told by my girlfriend of a year that she doesn't know if she wants to continue our relationship!" he sat up from the couch and started motioning with his hands. "I'm the one that doesn't know what to do. it's not like i'm going around and having sex with annabeth. you know i wouldn't do that to you!"

"there are other ways of cheating than that percy, and im not saying your cheating on me, I'm just saying that your mind is still on annabeth, which means I don't know if we should be a thing or not." you said. "and honestly, with the reaction your having, i wouldn't be surprised if you were cheating." you also sat up from the couch and moved to stand by him.

"i understand that, but like i said, i'm not going over there to have sex with her or kiss her or anything like that. all im doing is spending time with her, can i not chose who i spend my time with now?" percy spat at you, giving you a look that made you know he was starting to get pissed off.

"that's the problem percy! your spending time with her, which would be okay, if you weren't canceling on me, your girlfriend!" you said, continuing to raise your voice.

he scoffed at you. "name one time that i cancel—"

"last week, when we were supposed to go the cafe to study for an exam together. i was waiting for you at the door when you were grabbing your backpack, and then you come up to me and say that you can't go because annabeth had finished reviewing your notes. and, for some reason, you had to go to hers that moment to get your notes instead of saying that you could later and go to the cafe, with your girlfriend!" you rambled, getting more mad remembering the memory.

you saw a small flash of guilt in percys eyes, but you didn't let him speak. "every single week percy! its the same fucking thing! you cancle last minute to go to annabeth, even dates you've canceled. and i know that your not sleeping with her or anything, but you're still putting her first instead of me. and that hurts. it really hurts." your voice became softer, cracking when you finished speaking.

your eyes filled with tears, and you started blinking rapidly to keep them at bay. "so yeah, percy, that's why i'm wondering what's going to be our relationship in the future. because right now, i'm not seeing one at all."

you shook your head as you saw his mouth open, still wanting to talk and get through to him. "i love you, so, so much. and it hurts, knowing that i'll always be out second to annabeth. if you want to continue our relationship, you're really going to have to change, percy. and i don't know if you're willing to do that for me." your tears starting openly falling down your face, your brain thinking of what it'll be like to not have percy in your life.

you saw percys mouth open, so you quickly looked down, knowing whatever he was going to say will make you go over the edge and into an anxiety attack. "...why didn't you tell me you felt like that?" he asked with a soft tone to his voice. you shook your had again, knowing you didn't fully get through to him.

"if you were feeling like that, you could have told me and i would have stopped," percy explained, opening his arms to hug you.

you quickly stepped back, not wanting to touch him. "you know what percy? i shouldn't have even had to talk to you about it, because it shouldn't have been a problem. i would have talked to you about it sooner, but i knew it was going to go the way this is going." you said as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

"your not understanding what you did wrong, just saying that i should have done something. which i should have, but i was to nervous, i know that you're too good foe me, gods, i get reminded every single day! so i didn't bring it up to you because i knew that i could've lost you by talking about this!" you let out your first sob as you finished, now thinking of how your going to have to move all your stuff out and stay at your friends condo until you can find a new one.

"hey—hey, let's have you calm down first before we talk. i promise I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to," he said, attempting to make eye contact before you looked down again.

"can, can you just leave? just for a while, please? I–I need to think and it's just really hard being around you right now." you said through your sobs, feeling guilty of practically kicking percy out of his own home, even if just for a while.

you didn't hear what he said, but you watched through your blurred vision as he walked away twords the front hall, heard him grab his keys, and then heard the door close behind him. you quickly walked into your shared bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of your queen size bed.

you look over at percys nightstand, seeing a framed picture of the two of you on your 6th month anniversary. then, your eyes quickly go to a polaroid in front of the framed picture. you sobs grew louder as you grabbed the framed picture and threw it out of anger, sending glass shards across the carpeted floor.

the polaroid was of percy and annabeth, sitting at the campfire back at camp half blood, both having matching smiles on their faces.

you could never compete with annabeth, even in the form of a picture.

[loversmantra]

LOCK YOUR PHONE!

synopsis. a secret relationship. a fantasy.

content. itoshi sae x cisfem!reader. aged up characters (+20). fluffy but suggestive. implied sexy times. profanity. secret relationship. sending and receiving nudes. sae's kinda possessive in this but there's nothing crazy. lowercase intended.

wc. 1.3k

message from noe. i adore him i fear... listen to billie nossa nova by billie eilish for a better experience. been wanting to write something based on this song for a while and i thought sae fit perfectly! enjoy.

there’s a warm body in sae’s bed.

his still asleep brain takes a second to make the connection; the softness of you under him is no longer a feeling he’s used to. he puts two and two together, eventually, and wraps his arms tighter around you. awake, but unwilling to let the moment end, he buries his face into your neck.

too late. you stir, push yourself away from him. he can’t bring himself to blame you: it’s hot in the room, hot under the sheets.

there will be no more sleeping for him, but it isn’t too late for you — with that thought in mind he too rolls away, blinking once, twice, context coming back to him as his surroundings do.

the bed is neither his nor yours, though he could have put that together himself — the satin sheets gliding on his skin in such an alien way.

creams and soft pinks blur before his eyes, pale under the early morning’s light. paris. the hotel room he booked for you in a haze, almost feverish in his longing for you.

the downside of keeping a relationship under wraps, he supposes: his noose-tight schedule and the hawk eye of the public force meetings to be few and far in-between, the secret protected like crown jewels. he knows you’re tired of it; he knows because he is, too. it’s exhausting, constantly looking over his shoulder when taking you to his place, or on his way to yours. it’s exhausting, always having to find a different hang out spot, for fear of the media figuring him out. it’s exhausting, waking up and wondering: is today the day the world sinks its teeth into you?

sae’s never cared to keep secrets, at least never willingly — he says things as they are, does things as they need doing, full transparency, if it’s up to him.

it’s exhausting, it is. but that’s just one more thing on the list — and it’s so. damn. worth it. every downside comes with an upside, or else itoshi sae wouldn’t ever bother.

these hidden moments sae shares with you, no one else is privy to them. only he gets to know you like this, love you like this, warm and soft underneath him. no one knows because no one needs to know. just you and him.

no one gets to see you in your entirety: the shine of your eyes when they land on him; the loving curve of your mouth as you smile at him.

everything that belongs to you. for him only.

the face you made when you first entered today’s suite will stick with him for a while, he thinks. the pure delight and adoration shining in your eyes. your lips parting in wonder. all for him. all because of him. your princess room, that’s what you’d called it. a child’s dream, delicate in its simplicity, crushed and torn apart by the cruel world’s sharp, sharp teeth. stitched back together by him.

he knows how it feels, to be ripped to shreds. he’s glad he can do this for you, at the very least.

the world awakens and so does he; slumber slipping through his fingers as he rubs it away from his eyes, tiny sand grains leaving a small sting behind. he slept well. better than usual.

his phone is still on do not disturb. he doesn’t bother checking the time.

sae sits up, covers dropping to his thighs. beside him, you stir again, whine a little. maybe you can feel him leaving, even now in your sleep, feel the shadow of his absence. maybe you’re just bothered by his movements rocking the mattress. either way, you sleep. finding his pants in the mess of the suite bedroom, without the aggressive light of his phone’s flashlight to aid him, proves to be no easy task, but he manages eventually. he slips them on and slips away, closing the bedroom door softly.

it isn’t much brighter in the living space. the lazy sun is barely rising, only the idea of it permeating the gradual brightening of the sky.

phone still clutched in his hand, sae lets himself drop on the abnormally large leather couch, massaging the tender spots you viciously bit into his neck. with just a few swipes, he’s opened his camera roll. time to collect the prize: the surprise you leave for him after every passionate encounter.

the first time you did it, he didn’t even notice until a few days after the fact, when he went browsing through his pictures for a home screen-worthy photo of you.

there it was: a beautifully crafted souvenir of the time spent together. the flash of his phone camera punctuating every shot, barely noticed in the heat of the moment. the red of the set you wore that day.

selfies of you before, and after. your lingerie still intact — and the canvas of your chest painted purple by his loving mouth. not a single video, but at least a dozen pictures: of you, of him, of the two of you together.

a gift from you to him — one that had his blood boiling, had him flushed, aching, yearning all over again.

he sent you his favorite of the bunch — a mirror selfie of you, chest painted purple, a teasing finger pulling your bottom lip down — followed by a question mark. a wordless interrogation.

finally, thought you were never gonna see them, 11:22pm

-is the answer he got.

want more? 11:23pm

and he did. and he got more.

it’s been a while, since then — long enough for it to become a tradition, a little present left in his phone after a secret rendez-vous. so you don’t forget me, you joke.

but how could he?

he’s learned a lot, since that first time. the most important: you’re a fucking tease. lighting, cropping, outfit, pose, it’s an art form to you, down to the time it is for him, when you press send. more often than not, he gets the pictures in the middle of the day, when he can see but can’t do anything.

you’re decent enough to warn him beforehand, at least.

you better lock your phone ;)

and then the raunchiest picture he’s ever seen — you outdo yourself every time — is all over his screen. he’s had many, many close calls. you don’t stop. he never asks you to. he loves the damn pics.

always pictures, never videos — they’re not your thing, he’s learned. not that it matters.

sae would’ve never guessed you’d be such a great soft porn photographer.

the couch’s leather sticks to his skin as he moves, trying to get just a bit more comfortable. he’s about to open his camera roll, ready to unwrap his present, when shuffling near his head startles him out of his reverie.

“why’d you leave?” you murmur, voice still rough with sleep.

you’re completely wrapped in a thin sheet, the only barrier between his hungry eyes and your soft, soft skin. the only glimpse he gets is that of your ankles. a small golden chain rests there, snug. his name is spelled out among the links, hidden. for his eyes only. his chest constricts, almost painfully.

he doesn’t answer; only opens his arms so you can take your rightful place tucked against him. you lay down, covering the both of you with the sheet.

the sun finally peeks from below the horizon, warming your face. it’s peaceful.

“i didn’t want to wake you,” sae decides to say.

you shrug. “more time with you.”

he feels the same — still, your sleep and your comfort take precedence over anything, for him. over anything.

you look so beautiful, like this. waking the sun, blessed by its gentle glow. for his eyes only.

it won’t last. he knows it won’t — secrets never stay secret for long. but for now, simply living like this is enough, more than enough. enjoying the sun. enjoying you.

sae slept well. better than usual. you’re warm on his chest, traces of you warm on his skin. there’s a present waiting for him in his camera roll.

it won’t last — but it won’t hurt to enjoy it while it does.

you fall back asleep quickly, lulled by his steady heartbeat. he follows easily. his dreams are swaddled in creams and soft pinks, and the warmth of the sun on his chest.

LOVERSMANTRA © 2024, all rights reserved. do not translate, crosspost, or copy. steal my work and i'll steal your kneecaps. bitch.

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special, Part Two

(Part One is here)

Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.

But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.

He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.

He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.

When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.

The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.

He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.

Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.

Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.

He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.

Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.

“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”

“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”

“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”

“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”

“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”

“Fine!”

The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.

In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”

Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”

Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.

The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)

“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.

True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.

It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.

Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.

Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”

While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.

Then another, then, three.

Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.

No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.

Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.

This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.

Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.

Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.

Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.

“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.

“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”

“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”

“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”

Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.

He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.

Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out how to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.

Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.

They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.

He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.

And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.

Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.

Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.

They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.

“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”

“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.

The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.

Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.

Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.

“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”

“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”

“Nah, he can take at least two.”

Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.

Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.

“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”

“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”

“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”

“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”

“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”

Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.

He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”

“How in all the black holes—”

“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”

“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”

“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”

Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”

There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.

So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.

They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.

After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”

They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.

“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”

They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”

He got groggy approval to that.

Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.

I wonder what else I can do?

~~~~~~~~~

By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)

Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.

Onward!

[triluvial]

Imagine being a freman captured by feyd and just as you’re on the cusp of stockholm syndrome he spits on you. To him he’s just degrading you but you see it as an honor he’s giving you his water…

oh I love this. I feel like to fall into this the Reader has to be primed for it.

Like the Fremen seem to live in fairly small groups (aside from the deep south) so if Reader came from a bigger family then their romantic options may be severely limited. Reader, feeling lonely and longing to leave their small settlement just to find romance would be a great start for this AU.

Then when Feyd captures her, she knows he's probably going to be tortured and killed or turned into a slave. She may have read books and heard stories of dark lovers being soft for their one true love but she's not an idiot, she's under no illusions this will happen to her.

But then the first few weeks pass and Reader is unharmed. She's not tortured or raped and doesn't even see the face of any person other than Feyd.

Feyd is likely thinking he'll keep Reader like an exotic pet - the last of her kind once he razes Arrakis to dust - as he torments her with news of Fremen death. (Paul's rebellion is taking way longer ig)

Unintentionally, he's training Reader bit by bit to be totally dependant on him. He brings her food and water when he visits every second day so the relief of hunger and thirst becomes inescapably entwined with Feyd's presence. As he is literally the only other person she sees, he becomes the only thing she can think about, the only thing she ever dreams about.

This is when the spitting scene occurs. It's a declaration of love. Reader's thrilled. She swallows. Feyd begins to spend more and more of his time just thinking about Reader because no one ever reacted that positively to him just behaving however he wanted (this would probably work best if the Harpies weren't allowed to come with him, were killed right after he arrived on Dune or never existed in the first place).

Childish dreams of an Out-Worlder sweeping Reader off her feet and away from her inescapable family and into a life of dramatic romance begin to be mapped onto Feyd's face as Reader spends most of her time alone in the darkness of her cell.

Until I'm thinking Gurney and some Fremen scouts break into the Arrakeen palace for an assassination attempt and while they're there, they free Reader against Paul's orders (Hey, she has a big family at least two of them are on the team). She's ok with leaving until she learns they want to assassinate Feyd. The Harkonnen tactics advanced so much upon his arrival they think they can win if they take him out. Reader knocks them out from behind. This is how Feyd find her. Surrounded by the unconscious bodies of her would-be rescuers.

I couldn't pick an ending here so here's both:

Feyd tests Reader by "accidentally" letting her take one of his swords. She uses it to kill the scouting team to protect him. He proposes with the idea of stringing her along and seeing what else he could make her do for him before locking her up again. However, the horror that his fiancée evokes in the Bene Gesserit makes him so happy he decides to drag it out longer. Then, she tells him about the deep-south holdouts and stops him from relaxing when all the northern Fremen are seemingly dead he has to keep her on his arm a little longer. Then she wins a sparring match against him so he has to keep her around until he can soundly beat her, take everything she can teach him and turn it against her. Before he knows it they've been engaged for a year and there's legitimate wedding planning happening. He still wouldn't call it love but it might be as close as he gets. Reader still loves it when he spits on her.

Feyd gets Reader to fake a break-out and helps her move the unconscious rescuers out a secret escape. When they wake up she claims Feyd found them but she killed him and dragged them all to freedom. She's his spy on the inside and with the confidence of Feyd's supposed assassination Paul and the other Fremen will be overconfident. This would probably culminate in Feyd winning the knife fight against Paul and then saying, "You did perfectly, sweetheart." And Reader bolting like an Olympian into his still bloody arms.

[tj-dragonblade]

I SEE YOU HAVE A TAKE ON MER HOB MAY I HEAR ABOUT MER HOB

YOU ABSOLUTELY MAY, even if it took me longer to respond than intended, oops. But! Mer-Hob is slowly turning into a different fic than originally imagined last year. Which is fine, and good, because what I'd originally imagined just wasn't working. I think I can confidently place him back on the wip list now with a better idea of the shape he'll have moving forward. And for you, thank you for your patience, here is their freshly-drafted first kiss scene:

"Dream?"

Dream glances to where Hob sits beside him, tail fin drifting idly in the water near Dream's bare feet. Dream had brought chocolate, again; the delight Hob had displayed the first two times was something he wanted to see again, and again, and again. He wanted to find every way possible to bring joy to Hob, to make that warm smile light up, to bring his laughter bubbling forth.

The chocolate has been finished, though, and Hob sounds…tentative; Dream's brow creases. "Yes?"

"I've got a question for you. Or. Well. Not so much a question, as something I'd like to tell you." He's tilted his head slightly, is toying with the lowest spine of his ear-fin. "It's. It's—I've been trying to tell you, like I would another mer, but I don't think you get it. And why would you, culturally, you've got no way to know if I don't explain it first right? So I thought, maybe I should just. Try it the human way?"

Dream is perplexed, not sure he entirely follows what Hob is trying to say, but then Hob is leaning closer, leaning in, as if he means to—

His lips touch Dream's, and Dream's heart stops as his brain catches up. Hob. Is kissing him—

Except it's not exactly a kiss, has none of the common elements aside from two pairs of lips in contact; Hob is very still, holding that touch for another instant, and then he pulls back.

Dream's heart thuds in his chest, tripping faster; he can feel how wide his eyes are and how his mouth has fallen slightly open, but all he can see is the hopeful uncertainty in the warm depthless brown of Hob's eyes.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right. But a kiss is how you say you like someone, right?"

"I. Yes." Dream is drowning in the instant-replay inside his own brain. Hob. Had kissed him. Hob had kissed him. Hob had kissed him—

"Well. I like you. And I think maybe…maybe you might um. Like me too?"

Dream manages a nod. "Mmhm." His heart is racing.

"Well!" Hob looks delighted if still nervous, and his tail flicks up in the water with a splash. "That's good, then! Brilliant! Okay!" He smiles, all warmth and happy energy. "Okay."

"Merfolk do not kiss, then?" Dream is slowly processing, still catching up, still circling helplessly around the bright spot of Hob kissed me, Hob LIKES me.

"Not many, nope. And I've never. But I've seen enough humans and human stuff to get the idea. Did I do it right?"

"Right enough. However." Boldness surges up in Dream, riding the bubbling tide of joy curling higher within his chest. "Can I. May I show you, what observation alone does not perhaps convey?"

"Of course," Hob says, curiosity in the tilt of his eyebrows, and Dream leans in.

It's soft, sweet; he fits his lips gently to Hob's and presses, brushes them together and apart and together again, aching with the fulfillment of this long-held wish. He is kissing. Hob. And Hob is kissing back, tentatively matching the movement of Dream's mouth on his, and Dream is dizzy with it. His hands yearn to hold, to touch; he brings one up and lets his fingertips flutter lightly to rest on Hob's cheek, away from the delicate spread of his ear-fin, away from the curve of his neck where his gills are tightly sealed. And when Hob reaches carefully to touch him in kind, Dream's heart soars.

A long moment passes before he ends the kiss at last; he draws back just enough to see, to watch Hob's eyes blink slowly open.

"Oh," Hob breathes, voice full of softness and wonder, and his beautiful eyes shine warm with the same.

~ Mer-Hob wip tag for the other recent chunk and some older little bits that may just wind up orphaned

[lov3rgirllll]

Im wearing a miniskirt, but why are you the only one who doesn't notice?

Now playing: 'miniskirt'- aoa

Sypnosis- clarisse will do anything in her power for an ounce of your attention, but you just can't seem to notice her.

Desperate!clarisse x oblivious!fem!y/n

A/N: this is super short because i have writers block. lmk if you want a part 2 or if i should just leave it

clarisse was quite litterally down bad for you. Ever since your first day at camp, everyone could tell that you were special to her. For starters, you hadn't been dunked in a toilet by her half siblings, in fact, clarisse didn't try to intimidate you at all, She instead showed you all around the camp and taught you how to sword fight. People were seriously weirded out by this, they wondered why she took herself up to be your mentor instead of your worse nightmare like she had done to the other campers. You were kind of oblivious about this, seeing as you were treated like that from your first day, you didn't know any better, you thought that what the other campers said about her being a bully was either a lie or an over exaggeration.

clarisse had changed a lot since your arrival, not only was she dying down being a bully entirely, but she was also way more caring about her appearance. She started styling her hair, wearing more stylish clothes and even started wearing makeup. But again, this didn't surprise you as much as it did everyone else, who had know clarisse much longer than you. It seemed like you were the only one at camp that couldn't connect the dots, every Chiron and mr. D could pick up the fact clarisse had taken a liking to you. Clarisse wondered what on earth she had to do in order to get you to notice her

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚the end⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

[shares-a-vest]

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and – 

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for not telling my partner about the other people I'm with when I plan to break up with him soon?

I (19) and my partner (18) have been together for a few years. We are polyamorous, to be clear. His only thing is that he wanted me to let him know & let him meet any new partners of mine. However, for the past year and a half or so, he's barely been around. I'm lucky if I get to talk to him for maybe an hour per month. So in the past 4-ish months since I have had other people ask me out, I haven't gotten to tell him much more than letting him meet 1 of them and telling him there was others I wanted him to meet. And even there, I'm not entirely sure he got the memo that these were my *partners* and not just people I was close to.

However, I know this relationship isn't going to last longer. From the beginning, my friends, other partners (not the same as the ones I am currently with, although my other current partners also hate him) , and family + therapist have said my relationship is not healthy or even abusive and want me to leave him. But I never had the strength to walk away. I loved, and still love him, too much. He's made it clear that if I left, he would be completely alone, and feel isolated. That's not something I want to do to him. On top of that, although he hasn't done it in several years now, at the beginning of our relationship he would regularly tell me how finding me saved him from suicide, how he would be gone without having found me. Treated me like I was his reason for surviving. I know he didn't mean that in a bad way, but it still stuck with me, and a part of me worries for what will happen if I leave. Plus, he knows everything about me. I don't believe he would, but I know if he wanted to he could easily make my life hell, and that makes it terrifying to try to walk away from him.

So I'm not sure when we actually will break up. Just that we will. He's talked about breaking up himself before, but when I suggested we just get it over with since clearly neither of us where happy in this relationship, he said it "wasn't time yet". So I'm just kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Which makes me worry I'll be the asshole and cheating on him if I avoid telling him about my other relationships because I know ours is going to end. It feels heavy to tell him, between knowing we aren't going to keep being together, and the fact that he never reacts well to my other partners. Despite insisting he's okay with my polyamory and my relationships when I ask, he seems to almost always act aggressively when he meets my other partners. He acts rude towards them, and very possessive about me, often even siting how he was "here first". That's not something I want to put my partners through, especially not for someone I know is going to break up with me. Plus, a part of me feels guilty. Even though it's not going against boundaries, and I do really love all the people I'm with and do everything I can to make sure they all know that and feel loved and respected by me, it feels like I'm doing something wrong by being with so many people at once. It makes me feel ashamed to face my partner and go "hey so I'm with all these people too now! They all asked me out within the past 4-5 ish months yeah!" and like I'll have to find a way to justify it otherwise it'll look like I don't take our relationship seriously and am cheating.

WIBTA?

[acewritesfics]

Sweetheart | Tommy Shelby 

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x wife!reader

Request: No

Warnings: The word whore being used a few times. A threat made.

Word Count: 640

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Tommy enters his office and is taken aback to see his wife seated behind his desk, wearing a displeased look on her face. He lights his 6th cigarette for the day and moves to stand near the windows, knowing that whatever is about to unfold cannot be good. Her eyes follow his every move as she remains quiet waiting for him to speak first.

"I suppose I should ask if everything is well, but I have a feeling it would only anger you further," he says, observing her as she stares at him. "So why don't you tell me what I've done wrong so we can sort it out?" 

She continues to scowl at him, saying, "I know you are willing to do anything to get what you want, I just never thought I would have to witness it." 

His expression remains stoic, revealing nothing about what he's thinking or feeling. 

"Imagine now my amazement when I saw every man's favorite whore with her hands all over my husband only to see him do nothing about it. He seemed to be encouraging it." 

Tommy could see the sadness and the hurt in her eyes. He didn't miss the way her voice became strained at the end. It hurt his heart to know that it was his own foolish impulsive acts that caused her feel this way. But he could see she wasn't done talking. He remains silent, knowing that trying to apologise before she finishs would only make matters worse. 

"But instead of simply confronting you, I went and confronted her," she confesses. 

Tommy struggles to conceal his smirk. Y/N's headstrong personality causes her to protect what belongs to her and causes her to make sure people knew where she stands and where they stood. If he could be possessive over her, than so can she when it comes to him. Tommy was hers - him being the father to her three children, her husband and the love of her life - and she wasn't about to let anyone forget it. It's one of the many things Tommy loves about her. 

"Don't worry, she said you merely used her for information. That you flirted a little, got her hopes up, and that was the end of it," Her eyes never leave his while a smirk appears on her lips. She trusted him not to go any farther than flirting. It was the whores she was wary about. Her lover before Tommy was always persuaded by them . When they first started their relationship, she made it clear to Tommy that adultery would not be tolerated. 

"And what did you tell her?" Tommy enquired, slightly amused by her possessiveness. Y/N didn't typically take such action, but he admires that she was willing to confront anyone who threatened their family and marriage, even if it was against a lady of the night. 

"I told her, if she touches you with her filthy little hands again, I'll cut 'em off," she confidently tells him. 

"Sweetheart," he said not bothering to hide the small smirk that's forming, his head shaking side to side. "After all these years, you still surprise me with your words." 

"How else are those whores meant to know I won't tolerate them trying to seduce you?" She wonders aloud as he rounds the desk, standing in front of her. 

He pulls her up from the chair, lifting her to sit on his desk as he stands between her legs. "What if I need information from them? I can't have them scared of me." 

"Then you get someone else to do your dirty work," she tells him. "Preferably someone who isn't married." 

He smiles and kisses her, knowing she's no longer angry at him. "I love you." 

"I love you too," she replies pulling him closer to kiss him again.