#to say nothing of the fact that she could have fallen and busted her head open

[canislupus-exe]

Made for Each Other | eddie munson

fandom | Stanger Things

character | Eddie Munson

reader | he/him/amab (she/her/afab ver.)

requested | anonymous

warnings | smut/nsfw, mutual perversion, peeping, mild degradation

word count | 1,804

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | can u maybe do an eddie munson smut where the reader catches him masturbating to a polaroid of him and then the reader fucks him 👉👈

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

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You sighed as you checked your watch, the time read 9:17. The day had been surprisingly slow so you decided to hang out with your best friend, but found his company had barely changed that fact. You’d burned through two movies with him and were going to start a third when he suddenly realized something and bolted out of the room. 

That was a few minutes ago and now you were waiting for his return, sprawled out on his bed. You yawned and laid your head against the pillow. Nothing happened until finally, you heard the bedroom door open. You lifted your torso and leaned on your elbows, raising your eyebrows at him. A bright flash caused you to blink rapidly and groan.

“Dude, what the hell?” You asked, sitting up fully and rubbing your eyes. You could hear Eddie laugh before feeling the bed shift as he sat next to you.

“Ain’t he a beaut?” He asks. You stop rubbing your eyes and look at what’s in his hand. It’s a Polaroid picture of yourself. Your shirt is slightly lifted and your pajama bottoms are slightly misplaced, revealing a small bit of your hip area. Your eyelids are slightly drooped, making you look sleepy and even somewhat sultry.

“When did you get a Polaroid?” You asked.

“I found it at the thrift store just outside of town. I seriously couldn’t believe my luck. It was a little busted right here, see, but nothing some duct tape couldn’t fix.” He raved, showing you all parts of the camera. You smiled fondly.

“That’s awesome Eddie.” You say, handing him the picture. He looks at it for a couple of seconds before looking back up at you.

“You don’t want to keep this?” He asks. You shake your head.

“Nah, what purpose do I have for a picture of myself?”

“Wouldn’t I have even less of a purpose for a picture of you?” He asks with a laugh. You shrug and smile.

“I don’t know. Use it to remember me or if you miss me.” You say with a snicker.

“That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard,” Eddie replied. You laughed before standing up from the bed.

“I should probably go home now Eddie. It’s getting late and we have school tomorrow.” You say, grabbing your car keys from his nightstand. 

“Already?” He asks a twinge of sadness in his voice. You smile.

“I’ll be back, probably sooner than you even realize. Thanks for letting me hang and keep you company though.” You said. He nodded and stood from the bed, walking you toward his front door.

You said bye and locked up his door, hopping in your car and starting it up. Your house wasn’t too far from the trailer park, which you were thankful for. It made your visits to his place that much more convenient. You whistled to the song on the radio, mindlessly tapping your steering wheel while focusing on the road.

As you pulled up to a crossroad to take a right turn, you realized how cold you were. You always kept your windows rolled down when you drove but it was much chillier than usual. You were about to turn when it dawned on you that you left your jacket at Eddie’s house. No wonder I’m freezing, you think to yourself as you pop a quick U-turn and backtrack to the trailer park.

It doesn’t take long since you didn’t get very far. In a matter of six minutes, you’re putting your car back in park in Eddie’s driveway. You toss your keys in your jean pocket, knocking on his door. There’s no answer, and you can’t help but assume he’d fallen asleep. Normally, you wouldn’t intrude, but the freezing Indiana temperatures urged you to use the spare key he’d gifted you years ago. Just for emergencies, he told you, and if you stayed out there any longer without a protective layer you’d freeze your dick off, which was as close to an emergency as you could damn near get.

You opened the door and shut it quietly behind you, not wanting to wake him up. You quickly scanned the living room, searching for your jacket. It was nowhere to be found but you didn’t fret, you probably just left it in Eddie’s room. You walked toward his bedroom door, seconds away from pushing it open when you heard a noise.

Not just any noise, though. A very distinct type of noise that caused your feet to stay planted on the floor and your stomach to meet them there. It was a moan. A moan that no doubt belonged to your best friend. Your heart began to thump louder than it ever has but you tried to drown it out, listening for another noise to prove you weren’t going crazy. 

And there it was again. A whiny, high-pitched moan that sent tingles down your spine and blood rushing to your crotch. You clasped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to regulate your breathing, scared you’d make a noise and alert him that you were here. Which you should’ve done, you knew that. You knew how wrong it was to listen to someone get off, but you couldn’t move your feet.

And to make matters worse, your eyes found themselves drawn to the crack in the door. You weren’t just listening now, you were full-on peeping on your best friend jacking off, and God was it making you hard.

The sliver in the door was small but if you angled yourself just right you could see enough. His right hand rapidly moved up and down his shaft while his left held a picture that looked almost familiar. Further up you could see his shirt lifted and his left hand holding a piece of clothing to his nose, which he was no doubt sniffing with fervor. The item of clothing was also familiar. It almost looked like…

“(Y/n)~” Eddie whined breathlessly, and the air around you seemed to turn cold. That couldn’t have possibly been…

“Fuck- (Y/n)…” He moaned again, and you were sure of it this time. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, moaning your name. That wasn’t the only thing he was doing. As he continued to furiously pump his shaft with his fist you realized why everything looked so familiar. He was holding the Polaroid he took of you earlier and sniffing your jacket. Eddie was masturbating to the thought of you.

“God p-please I need you~” He moaned, panting heavily. You got so warm in the face and so fuzzy in the brain that you acted without thinking. You pushed the bedroom door open and walked in, causing him to yelp and throw everything off of him. He scrambled to pull a blanket over himself to salvage a shred of his modesty but you’d already seen too much.

“Don’t stop on my account sweetheart. In fact, let me help you~” You say, popping the button of your jeans. His face turns bright red, staring at you in utter disbelief.

“(Y-Y/n) I can explain-“

“Explain what? That you were jacking off to a picture of me? Mmm, what did you imagine we were doing Eddie?” You asked, pulling the blanket off as you licked your lips. 

“I-I wasn’t-“

“Come on Eddie~ You can tell me. If you ask nicely, I might even do it to you~” You whisper in his ear, gently placing your hand around his already twitching cock. He gasps and whimpers, covering his mouth to stop the needy noises from spilling out.

“You were so loud before, what happened to ‘I need you’?” You asked, moving your hand up and down his shaft. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lowered his hands, babbling for a second as he presumably tried to find the right words.

“I was i-imagining you- ah- fucking me into the- hng- mattress.” He gasped out, balling his hands into the sheets. You smirked, pulling your hand away and watching him practically chase your touch.

“That can be arranged.” You reply, pulling your pants and boxers off all the way. He watched with wide eyes as your cock sprung out, standing at attention and making his mouth water. He watched you bend and spit on his hole, gasping at the sudden cold sensation. You rubbed it into his asshole, expertly spreading him out in seconds and causing him to turn to putty once again. 

Once you were finished prepping him, you positioned your cock head at his tight asshole, teasing by gently prodding it. He whined, staring at you with pleading eyes. You decided to take mercy on him and finally push yourself inside, groaning as he enveloped you. He bit his lip harshly and squeezed his eyes shut, overcome with the pleasure of being filled.

“Look at you, you filthy little pervert. Getting fucked by the guy you were jacking off to.” You practically growled at him, an irregular dominance clouding your mind. He moaned and covered his face, too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“Maybe we’re made for each other though.” You say somewhat fondly as you pick up your pace. He moans, face still covered, but he manages to get out two words of inquiry.

“W-We are?” He asks meekly. You laugh almost sadistically as you grip his legs.

“We are… wanna know why?” You ask, slowing your hips just the slightest bit to grab his focus.

“Why?” He asks breathlessly.

“Because I’m a pervert too Eddie. I watched you jack off to me. I liked watching you jack off to me.” You say, giving him no time to process what you’ve said before starting to plow into him again. This practically sends him over the edge, whimpering and begging to cum as you fucked into his prostate like never before. He wraps his arms around your back and begins moaning frantically

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m- agghn!” He gasps for air and scratches down your back, body shaking as spurts of cum shoot from the head of his cock. The sounds he’s making and the tightness of his ass proves to be too much as your hips sputter and you let out a low groan, emptying your load straight into his suffocating hole.

You gasp in an attempt to regain your breath, Eddie still latched onto you like his life depends on it. You chuckle and let your body weight fall onto him, electing to clean yourselves up later. You do however decide to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek at the moment, and you’re glad you do when you see his flushed face fondly smile.

[jimblejamblewritings]

the imprint or the blood singer | part 16.

Summary: Y/N Black. All about La Push. Shy girl unless you get to know her. Not one to make friends easily despite the fact that she very well could. Friends with her brother’s friends until one Bella Swan comes back to town.

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light smut

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Embry Call x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The last thing Billy ever expected was that he would let a Cold One anywhere near him. But here Edward was, sitting on the couch with you propped up in his arms. You had finally fallen asleep and when you did, Billy and Jacob felt okay to go to bed.

You were first in the house to wake up the next morning. Edward helped you take off the wrapping that held your arm against your chest. Your arm was completely healed, your shoulder and ribs still very damaged.

It took longer than you would’ve liked to take a shower and get dressed. When you walked out of your room Edward was in the kitchen cooking. He smiled when you hugged him from behind. The hug was partly out of affection, mostly to numb your ribs.

“Were you as good at cooking as you are at playing piano when you were human?”

“On the contrary, I was complete shit. But Esme was amazing, I asked her when you first started coming over.”

Jacob and Billy entered the dining room area watching the scene between you and Edward unfold. They wanted to awe and gag at the same time. Jacob walked past to grab a bowl from the cabinet. He looked down in confusion when a plate of breakfast was plopped in front of him.

“There’s breakfast for everybody,” Edward said.

“Thank you?”

“Just take the plate Jacob, I’m never doing this for you again.”

You laughed a little until your ribs started to ache again. Billy accepted the food without complaint, knowing you would give him hell for it later if he didn’t. Edward removed your arms from around him and turned to face you with two plates.

“Embry’s outside. Slept there all night.”

You took the plates from Edward and grabbed some of Jacob’s clothes and went outside. The giant gray wolf on your front porch was still asleep. You set the plates down and shook Embry until the wolf woke up. Embry took the clothes you gave him and disappeared behind the house.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Embry said as he came jogging back around the house.

You both sat across from each other cross-legged on the deck.

“My arm’s fine. I’m going to Carlisle to check on the rest.”

Embry hummed in approval. He watched your careful and measured breathing. It wasn’t hard to tell you were still in pain even without the imprint.

“You stayed out here all night?”

“I couldn’t leave knowing you were hurt. I’m still your protector.”

“My fierce protector,” you joked.

Embry cocked an eyebrow at you before the two of you busted out laughing. He quickly mumbled sorry when you clutched your side.

“Don’t make me laugh,” you said once the pain subsided.

“You made the joke.”

Edward stepped out of the house. He held up the keys to your car and a small bag.

“Carlisle just called your dad. He wants you to stay overnight.”

“What are you not saying?”

“There’s an X-ray in Carlisle’s home office. He wants to monitor you properly and make sure you’re healing correctly, he’s worried the mid-shift is having your bones heal not fully human… he might have to re-break a few more bones.”

“Okay.” You nodded your head.

“I’ll just be in the car whenever you’re ready. Do you want me to pack anything else.”

“My art stuff. The markers and book are—”

“In the garage,” Edward said at the same time as you.

“If you could just read my mind why bother asking?”

Edward said nothing. He just laughed as he walked to the garage. Embry sighed as he watched the two interact. You looked at him shocked when he stole the bacon off of your plate. Embry grinned as he finished chewing. He reached his hand out and closed your mouth.

“He’s a good boyfriend,” Embry said out of the blue. You looked at him a bit surprised, this was coming out of nowhere.

“Embry you don’t have to pr—”

“I was so scared when you got hurt but I don’t think I saw anyone more scared than him. Maybe Jake… I’m not saying I like the leech or any of them but I want my imprint happy. He does that for you.”

“I’m sorry, Embry,” you got quiet.

“For what?”

“Edward. Not being able to love you in the same way. Not being what you want.”

Embry brushed some of your hair back that had fallen in front of your face. “After yesterday, you are everything I want and need just by being alive. We can’t control our imprint. A lover, protector, or friend. I think we all forget it’s just about our special person.”

You tackled Embry in a hug. Your friend laughed as he gently held you.

“Careful, careful, you’re still hurt.”

“You’ll find your person.”

“I know, but you’ll still be my best girl.”

“Is that a promise?” You held out your pinky finger.

“That’s a promise.” Embry interlocked his pinky with yours. Both of you kissed your thumbs, making the promise official.  

“Trampoline park when I get better? Just you and me. Plan?”

“Sounds perfect. Now, go get yourself healed. I can feel the pain, don’t even try to lie.”

You slowly sat up. “Em, did anyone tell you you’re the best person ever.”

“I know.”

You started to walk away when Embry stopped you.

“If the leech ever hurts you—”

“You’ll bite his head off?”

“It’s my job.”

“My fierce protector.”

Embry howled making you laugh before you walked towards the garage area. Your car was on the side. Edward started the car as you entered the passenger’s side.

“He’s not joking about my head is he?”

“You’ve lived a good one hundred and eight years.” You gave Edward a cheeky smile as he drove off towards the Cullen house.

~~

Your ribs were for the most part okay. Carlisle only had to re-break two. Once again you slept in Edward’s arm to numb the pain.

Edward and the rest of the Cullens came back from hunting to hear the shower in Edward’s bathroom running. He had left the minute you woke up, refusing to take a night hunt while you were still in pain. You had on music. The Cullens chuckled to themselves as they heard your voice and the speaker turned all the way up. You were clearly enjoying yourself.

Edward entered his room very loudly announcing his presence so you wouldn’t be scared when you left the shower, although he wasn’t sure if you heard over your music. He knew you did once he heard the singing suddenly replaced with humming. He sat down and picked up a book absentmindedly reading and occasionally looking at the steam escape from under the bathroom door.

Edward very abruptly lifted his head towards his bathroom door. He set his book down not believing the thoughts he heard. Once your thoughts appeared again, this time directly addressed to him Edward stood up.

“Everyone out,” Edward said, knowing the rest of the Cullen family would hear him.

You smiled as you heard the bathroom door open. Edward changed the playlist on your phone and lowered the volume a bit. The steam from your shower fogged up the glass. The blurry outline of your body became clearer as Edward stepped closer to the shower.

“You don’t want to enjoy your shower, little wolf?”

“I’d think I’d enjoy it more if you joined me.”

It was silent, except for the music. For a moment, you thought Edward would refuse. You smiled to yourself when the shower door opened. You turned around to face him. Heat rose to your face, this was the first time you’d seen him like this. The intimate moment was new to you, even with Embry it was never this intense. You shuddered as he ran his fingers along your shoulder. The contrast of your hot shower and his cold skin left your body feeling all sorts of ways.

“This is a waste of water,” Edward mused.

“It’s only a waste if you don’t clean up, I’ve heard sharing showers is very conservative. You just came from hunting anyway.”

You grabbed the washcloth and soap. Edward let you bathe him, he switched places with you and let the water wash down him. He removed the washcloth from your hand and hung it up. Edward kissed you slowly, enjoying the taste of your lips that he hadn’t had since graduation. You tried to place his hands on your waist but Edward wouldn’t.

“You’re still hurt.”

“Why’d you join me in the shower then?”

“Because I can’t say no to my little wolf.”

“Edward, I—”

His lips crashed against yours. Edward slowly kissed down your body, pausing and paying special care to your injuries. He smiled as you sighed enjoying the cool touch on your bruises. Edward looked up at you.

“Is this alright?”

“You already know what I think.”

“I want to hear you say it. Is this alright?”

“Yes.”

You leaned back against the shower wall. Edward revelled in how your thoughts were scrambled as he went down on you. His name was the only thing coming from your mouth. The imprint made everything more intense for you. It wasn’t just your pleasure you were feeling but his as well which just sent you over the edge. Edward held you up before your legs gave out on you. He stood up, his hands rested lightly on your hips as you still leaned against the shower wall.

You were breathing heavy as you slowly came down from your high. The scent of your blood flooded his senses. Edward kissed you hard to stop himself from wanting to bite you. With his lips still on yours, he reached over to turn off the shower. Edward finally pulled away when he felt in control.  

“I think we finished washing up a while ago,” he commented.

You eyed Edward up and down. He could hear your thoughts. Edward pressed his forehead against yours.

“When you’re fully healed.”

“But you didn’t…” you faltered off.

“Trust me, I’m satisfied… besides, and as a vampire we get… very rough. I don’t want to hurt you.” Edward laughed as he heard your thoughts. “I’m worried about your health and you’re excited?”

“I’m just curious how rough it can actually be.”

“Broken beds… you’re not scared little wolf… of course you’re not.”

“I’m cold… and hungry,” you deflected.

You and Edward got out the shower. You dressed in warm oversized clothes. You and Edward went downstairs to get you real food from the kitchen refrigerator. Edward sat on a high chair at the kitchen island watching you make your favorite snack. You stood on the other side of the island eating. The rest of the Cullens came in, saying hi to you. Emmett clapped his hands on Edward’s shoulders but kept eye contact with you.

“Did he do good, little wolf?”

Emmett laughed as you hid your face in your hands while Edward shoved him as hard as possible.

(Part 17)...

[over-active-imagination]

911 What's your Emergency? (Nick Goode x Fem!reader)

Synopsis: Nick sets his trap, although there are a few things he didn't account for.

Warnings: Slowish burn because I am impatient. Smut later, Dark!nick, abuse of power, mention of devil worship, typical cannon violence, mentions of blood.

A/N: I have fallen back into the beautiful dark hole that is this man. Also, I am a bit of a slut for red flag FICTIONAL men. I also have not edited this story so forgive me for some mistakes. I am a little rusty

Part One || Part Two

Y/n couldn't get Nick out of her mind. It was becoming extremely distracting. She was having trouble at the moment focusing on the papers on her desk at him, threading her fingers through her hair, attempting to figure out how the hell she was going to finish her work. Grumbling Y/n gets up wandering though her apartment to the kitchen, the sizeable german shepherd who had been sleeping on the couch perked up when the wine bottle clinked against her glass.

"Sorry, bubba, this isn't for you" The teacher calls, a soft grunt is all she gets in response. The woman turns back to the glass and takes a large gulp. Releasing a sigh her eyes fall shut for just a moment, that moment however was abruptly ended by the sound of scratching on the door.

Y/n's eyes open assuming it was her pup needing to go for a walk. That was until her eyes landed on the dog who was currently staring off down the hall toward the door. The hair on the back of his neck jumping up, a low growl leaving his throat.

"Murphy...stop I am sure it-" A loud bang cuts her off and she jumps. The normally docile companion starts to bark aggressively rushing down the hall causing Y/n to panic worried for his safety and starts running after him only to be met with a large man holding a knife standing silently in her doorway.

It feels like time slows for a moment, her mind registering that there was in fact an intruder, this wasn't nothing and that man was going to hurt her dog. So of course, y/n does the only rational thing that came to mind. Grabbing the closet thing which happened to be a decorative bowl and throw it at his head, hoping it disarmed him enough that she grabs Murphy's collar yanking him away to the bedroom. Locking the door and frantically dialed 911.

"911 what's your emergency?" A male voice fills her ears as she hides in the closet.

"Someone just broke into my house!" Y/n frantically whispers "H-he has a knife oh my god I can hear him coming"

"What is your address," The dispatcher asks quickly trying to act fast.

"782 Pembrooke Ave, Sunnyvale" She whimpers and lets out a small squeak when the man starts banging on her door.

"I'm Sorry did you say...Sunnyvale?" The dispatcher sounded confused like he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"Yes, asshole Sunnyvale! Please Hurry he's trying to get into my room" The teacher was starting to experience a panic attack her chest heaving with the effort.

"Ma'am making prank calls is against the law are you aware of that fact?" The dispatcher says back in an annoyed tone.

"What...what the hell are you talking about of course I know that! There is a man with a KNIFE and...OH GOD" she screams when the door is busted down and Murphy starts growling and barking again as the closet is ripped open and someone grabs her ankle. A scream erupts from her lips as her assailant yanks her from the hiding spot.

It dawned on the woman that there was no one coming to help. Attempting to fight back the best she could noticing the man was wearing a white mask that looked cracked on the side. There was something familiar about the man but she couldn't put her finger on it, just as the man was about to lower the knife a gunshot rang through her apartment. Suddenly her face was covered in a warm liquid the man fell to the ground.

It took a moment for the woman to understand what had transpired her body shaking when two arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into a warm body. Sobs wracked through her body once it all sets in that this stranger was going to kill her and someone stopped it.

Looking up through her wet lashes she finds her savior to be none other than Sherif Nick Goode, utterly unsure about her feelings all she knew was that his cologne brought a sense of comfort and safety his warm voice reaching her ears.

"It's alright...you're safe now, I've got you...he won't hurt you" Nick coos at the shaking woman in his arms smirking a bit at how perfectly this was turning out to be.

"I-I didnt think you would come, t-the person on the phone...they...they said I was going to get charged" The young teacher cries harder and hides her face against his neck, Murphy was still growling more pointedly at Nick. The sound was aggravating the Sheriff but he had to take it one step at a time.

"There is no need to worry not, I have you, no one is very going to hurt you again. I'll protect you" He sounded so sure, it sent a warm feeling through her body. "Come on we will get you out of here"

Nick pulls her up into his arms as a few more members of his squad arrive. He pushes past them out to his own cruiser gently laying Y/n into the back seat her dog following and staring at Nick suspiciously before curling at her feet.

"Sir...I can't believe something like this happened here...in Sunnyvale. Should we arm the community?" A deputy asks and Nick shakes his head.

"No that won't be an issue. This was an isolated event. I'll take care of the victim and her statement you go deal with this mess" He gestures before starting up his car.

Nick takes a deep breath and glances through his rearview mirror taking in the frightened young teacher. She looked so small and dainty in her position curled against the window. It was wrong of him to be so aroused by her current state but it couldn't be helped. He was on his way to making her his and this was a perfect first step. Making her be dependent on him after saving her life.

Perhaps this was going to be easier than originally expected.

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 6

Warning: Light smut but not all the way, a slightly longer chapter

“Well maybe if you two didn’t drink so irresponsibly last night you wouldn’t feel this way”

Bessie was scolding you two for drinking too much and now she was trying to help y’all get over your hangovers.

“And who decided it’d be a good idea to shoot at the sky like idiots?”

Arthur looked at you and you tried to avoid his judging gaze.

“My god Y/N I could see Arthur putting you up to this but you? Doing something that stupid is something only a boy would do. Girls shouldn’t be heavy drinking anyway it’s unladylike”

Immediately after she said that you burped really loud causing Arthur to laugh. Bessie quickly shut him up.

“Arthur when was the last time you took a bath? You smell like a wet dog”

“Nahhhh don’t wanna”

“Arthur that’s nasty. I bet the only time you’ll take a bath is if the tub is filled with beer”’

You joked, causing the young gunslinger to blush and look away.

Dutch came around to announce something important to us.

“Alright everyone listen up we’re going to Blackwater”

-

1 year later

“No I should get it!”

“I was the one robbed that stagecoach to buy us food and I’m much bigger than you so I should have it!”

You and Arthur were arguing over who gets the bigger tent. It’s been a year but nothings really changed. You and Arthur were still bickering like an old married couple. Dutch was still coming up with new plans to make money. And Bessie still wanted you to be a lady.

“Hey ain’t you two a little too old to be fighting like that?”

Bill Williamson, a new member piped up.

“Shut up!”

You and Arthur said simultaneously. Bill just put his hands up and walked away.

“Listen Y/N I will personally buy you a whole bag of chocolate if you let me have it”

You hesitated for a bit.

“Fine”

“Yes!”

“But let’s get that chocolate first”

You hopped on your horse, Cilly. You had her for a while now ever since Arthur taught you how to ride properly. Without busting your head again.

You don’t know why but seeing Arthur on his horse, handling it so easily made you feel something. Maybe it was just the fact that he’s the only boy around your age that you’re constantly around or maybe you’re actually beginning to notice him differently.

You two rode into black water where you saw a man begging for money on the ground.

“Please give mercy to the fallen. My house burned down with my wife and all my children”

The man was shaking a cup with a few quarters in it.

“Man I feel bad. Imma go talk to him”

“Oh just leave him alone Y/N”

“Why should I? With that uniform on it looks like he was apart of the Union army. He doesn’t deserve this”

You got off your horse and walked up to the poor soldier and saluted.

“Oh say can you seeee by the dawns early liiiight-“

You couldn’t even finish singing the star spangled banner and just bust out laughing.

“Oh I’m sorry. God now I feel bad. Listen we have a camp out somewhere. If you’re ok hanging around a bunch of bandits then you could come back with us”

Arthur came behind you off his horse

“You can’t just recruit people Y/N. Besides he’s a hobo. Do you really wanna keep him with us?”

The man stood up quickly and put his hands together.

“No please I can cook! Back in the navy I was the best chef around. I can cook for you guys just please give me a place to stay!”

“What’s your name then?”

“Simon Pearson”

-

Pearson was not lying about being the best chef. Man he could throw down in a kitchen. This was way better than what you’ve had in the last year. It was so good everyone was smacking their lips. Even Bessie who was so strict about being ladylike.

“Another one!”

Arthur demanded.

“Hold on now Arthur just because we have a cook now doesn’t mean you can eat as much as you want. We still have to ration”

Dutch explained.

“Then I’ll go find more food. Come on”

Although he didn’t say your name you still knew Arthur expected you to come with him. You two are pretty much inseparable. You stood up and followed him into the woods.

When you two got deep in the woods you realized you had lost Arthur. You looked all around yourself and couldn’t see him.

“Arthur? Arthur?”

Then he jumped out from the bushes and screamed.

“Rahhh! I’m gonna get ya!!!”

“Dammit Arthur you scared me. You’re not a kid anymore stop that shit. We’re like the same age yet I’m more mature than you”

“Oh really? I didn’t know you were 17 like me I thought you were like 12”

You stopped walking.

“There’s no way you’re actually 17. Say you swear to god”

“I swear to god I’m 17”

“That doesn’t make sense. I’m only 16!”

“Damn so that makes me older than you!”

Arthur walked in front of you almost as if to prove his dominance or whatever.

“As the oldest I’ll be leading this hunt. Got it kid?”

“Shut up I bet your balls haven’t even dropped yet”

Arthur stopped to turn around.

“Oh yea? I don’t see you with any boobs yet?”

“They’re under my dress that’s all…”

“My balls are dropped Y/N. That makes me a man and you just a little girl”

“Suuure”

Arthur just now realized the conversation the two of you were having and it made him feel something. Something inside of him wanted to escalate the topic.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No I don’t. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“How do I know YOURE telling the truth?”

You two just stood there looking at each other.

“Fine we’ll show ourselves on 3 okay?”

If Arthur asked him to reveal yourself to him a year ago you would’ve slapped him across the face and avoided him for the rest of your life but instead you just nodded.

“1… 2.. 3!”

You pulled your dress up and he pulled his pants down showing everything. He saw your boobs and they were definitely there and you saw not only his balls but his dick too. They were mature.

You two covered yourself up and brushed yourselves off.

“Well… now we know”

Y’all just continued walking not even caring about hunting for more food. Just walking in your own thoughts. You started to wonder about what Arthur thought about your body. It’s not like he saw EVERYTHING but you saw everything of him.

Arthur wondered what you thought about him too. He actually felt kinda bad for making you do that. He wanted to apologize because he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.

Soon y’all came across a lake. It looked clean and big.

“Let’s go swimming”

Arthur declared and power walked over to the body of water.

You guys started to remove your clothes for the second time that day and Arthur walked to the edge. You slowly crept up behind him and pushed him in the water.

“That’s for scaring me in the forest!”

You jumped in after him and swam to where he was and he wasn’t moving. He looked almost dead.

“Arthur?”

You poked him. And he didn’t move.

Oh my god.

“Arthur!”

Suddenly he jumped up and pushed you under the water completely.

“You asshole!”

You went back up and began splashing him.

He came behind you and grabbed your waist to pick you up. You started wiggling to get out of his grasp. Wiggling a little too much. It caused some friction on his dick and he began panicking a little. You didn’t notice this though. You were having too much fun so you just spun around and kissed him.

You could feel the shock on his lips but then he kissed you back. He had one hand on your hip and the other in your hair. After some time you two pulled away to catch your breath.

“Let’s get outta here”

Arthur took your hand and led you out the lake and on the grass. He grabbed you and kissed you again. You had never kissed a boy before but it’s like your lips matched perfectly with Arthur’s. You looked down to see a tent in his underwear. Arthur followed your eyes to see he had an erection. He tried to cover it with his hands but you moved them away.

You kissed him again running your fingers through his hair. He moved you even closer to him almost straddling his lap but not completely though. Still 5 seconds later you felt Arthur go stiff and he made a weird noise. You looked down only to see a wet spot on where his boner had been.

“I-I don’t know why I did that- I-“

“It’s ok Arthur. Let’s just go back”

Y’all put your clothes back on and made your way back to camp.

Back at camp everyone was sitting around a fire just relaxing.

“Where’re the kids?”

Hosea asked

“They’re in the wooooooods”

Bill answered

You and Arthur came out the forest and quickly let go of each other’s hands not wanting questions to spark up and joined everyone at the fire.

“You two were gettin down and dirty huh?”

Bill asked

“No we were swimming in a lake we found. Hence the wet hair”

“Uh huhh”

You and Arthur kept stealing glancing at each other’s thinking no one would notice. They did. Whenever you two made eye contact Arthur would blush and look away. Every once in a while you would knock your knees together with Arthur’s just to feel he was there next to you even when you knew he was.

After everyone had gone to sleep you were still awake in your cot just thinking about Arthur Morgan. Thinking about his abbs. The way he rides his horse. His stupid jokes. His face. The way he’s sneaking into your tent right now. Wait what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?”

“I just had to see ya”

He grabbed you and began kissing all over your face and down your neck. He backed you up until you laid on your cot while he hovered over you. He started sucking on your neck which caused you to moan.

“Shhh girl we can’t wake the folks up”

“Arthur… I want you.. but we have no protection”

Arthur sighed in disappointment and laid next to you. Then he perked up.

“I’ll sneak through Hoseas stuff while he’s sleep. He has to have something. I’ll be back���

He slipped out of your tent and was gone for about 5 minutes. He came back with a box and pulled out its contents.

While he was figuring out how to use the condoms you started kissing on his cheek and down to his neck. He was blushing real hard.

“I ain’t never done this before”

“Me neither”

“Well I guess that means we’ll just have to get used to each other”

[bye-bye-firefly]

NAMELESS - Chapter 29

↪ SUMMARY...

After drunkenly admitting everything, Shuichi is confronted by Maki and Kaito. The confrontation is cut short when Shuichi's house turns against the group and traps them inside.

excerpts under the cut!

"Do you remember what you told us last night?" "Huh? What did I say?" He opened one eye and chuckled. "Was it just me being sappy or something? I haven't been drunk since college; I don't remember what I'm like when I'm drunk." Kaito just stared at him. "You should get cleaned up. Maki wants to talk to you." He grabbed some toilet paper and held it awkwardly in the middle distance, one where it would be weird for Shuichi to take it and weird for him to suddenly jump into cleaning his face, like he was deciding what he wanted to do. He decided to clean him up and sighed. "Did...you really mean it? When you said that you know where Kaede is?"

She turned toward the stairs and stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. The stairs had expanded an unnatural amount, though they could still see the bottom. Shuichi and Maki looked at each other, and that was the first time Shuichi got a chance to actually look at her. There were lines where the wires had dug into her skin, some of the lines so rough that she started bleeding, making bits of blood run down her arm, but it was nothing too intense. It was just scary to think that was what was in the walls. Shuichi looked down the steps and called, "Kokichi!" Nobody came. That wasn't good. "Fuck it," Maki whispered, putting her foot on the first step. It suddenly jutted out and she would've fallen over if she didn't immediately step back to where she was. "Be careful," he warned. She panted and shook her head. "Fuck it!" She then threw herself down the stairs. We are not talking sprinting down the steps. We are not talking skipping steps. We are not talking any sort of strategy. She went down legs first, hitting her tailbone multiple times before finally rolling down the stairs, head over legs and legs over head and over and over, ad infinitum. Multiple cameras shot down from the ceiling to watch this in action. Shuichi watched in horror as Maki, who he previously thought was the smartest of the four, showed him that she was, in fact, just like the other three: a giant fucking bonehead. "Maki!" She could not respond. She was busy being juggled. By the stairs. "I told you about the stairs! I warned you!"

"Oh, shit- do you see the light?" "Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I'm coming to you!" He sprinted toward it and turned the corner. [REDACTED] stood there, facing him. [REDACTED] wasn't restrained in any way. [REDACTED] was standing, wearing a pair of jeans that had grown holes and one of the t-shirts he'd lost months ago. Over the top of it, [REDACTED] was wearing a jacket that had sat on the floor of his closet for years. In the light, [REDACTED] eyes gleamed like a cat's, reflecting yellow light at him. "I found you." [REDACTED] voice echoed through the empty room. Before he could reply, a piece of metal hit the back of his head with a loud crack. Then, it went black.

"What? So you assholes think you can just bust in here through my fuckin' window and that's it? I don't know if it ever occurred to you in your pea-sized brains, but I have a life and a job- hear that, Kokichi? J-O-B: JOB, dickhead!- being the most drop-dead gorgeous engineer around- like, the girls they bring in to shoot porn hot- and I don't exactly have time for whatever bullshit you people wanna bring in, so-" Kokichi stumbled over to her and grabbed her by her shoulders, trying to figure out what to say. Very quietly, he said, "Miu...shut your whore-ass up."

[therealvinelle]

If Bella didn’t exist, what kind of partner do you see Edward being with and settling down with? Do you think he would eventually find someone or just be alone forever?

Sorry that I took so ridiculously long to answer!

The answer to this one is bleak.

Because why, exactly, does Edward fall in Bella? What makes her stand out from the crowd?

Famously, it’s her blood. 

He smells it and just like that it became his highest priority in this world. 

“I hadn’t imagined that such a scent could exist. If I’d known it did, I would have gone searching for it long ago. I would have scoured the planet for. I could imagine the taste.” (Midnight Sun, page 12)

People tend to downplay a bit just how insignificant Bella’s scent is to Edward. This is past “she smells like freesias<3”. This is a predator who just found the greatest prey he’ll ever find. This is the core of Edward/Bella, and there’s nothing personal or romantic about it.

Further, Edward is a person who puts all his stock in reading people’s minds. It’s how he interacts with people, and he has based much of his personality and self-esteem on it. He fancies himself someone who knows and understands the people around him intimately. How could he not? He knows their every thought.

Enter now the girl he can’t keep his mind off because her blood is driving him mad. Chapter 2 of Midnight Sun opens with him trying to stargaze in peace, but he’s just thinking about Bella. 

(...) a face, just an unremarkable human face, but I couldn’t quite seem to banish it from my mind. (Midnight Sun, page 26)

Of course, this is intended to be because they’re mates and Edward is supposed to already be already in love with her. He just doesn’t know it yet!<3

Well, I don’t believe in mates, and this guy is not in love. He finds Bella plain (chapter 1), unremarkable (chapter 2), even her eye color is boring. Not to mention that he doesn’t know her at all and desperately wants to eat her.

Anyway, Edward ends up returning to Forks, and finds that he can’t read her mind. The girl with the irresistible blood that he is already obsessed with is now officially an enigma. It’s no longer just about the blood, it’s about the entirety of Bella Swan. Who is this girl his mind won’t stop circling around?

He decides to find out.

This is where the mess that is Edward Cullen comes in, because in spite of or perhaps because of his gift, Edward has a very poor understanding of people. He judges people based on what he gleans from their minds, assuming that his gift lets him see their true self. Taking Rosalie for an example, she thinks about her looks compulsively. Edward takes this to mean that she’s vain. He never asks himself why Rosalie would be like this, if perhaps she’s like this because when it’s what her family and everyone else in her life has valued about her, if it’s because she doesn’t feel she has any other value, or if she in any way has a reason for obsessing over her looks that runs deeper than vanity.

My point being, Edward doesn’t get people, and he doesn’t know that he doesn’t get people. He bases his understanding of them on what he reads in their minds.

And so, when he sets about getting to know Bella Swan, he does so by asking her a million questions, and analyzing every answer she gives him. One example, he asks her which CD she’s listening to, she tells him, he asks which tune she likes best, she tells him, he runs through the lyrics in his head looking for some kind of clue.

He asks her questions that ultimately mean nothing, but they allow him to feel he’s getting closer. The result here is that he doesn’t know her at all, but he thinks he does. More on that later.

We also get him observing her. She’s nice to others, she doesn’t do the shallow teen things he disapproves of like fawning over him or gossiping with Jessica Stanley, and it totals to him quite liking what he sees. More on this later as well.

So, we have three components here that draws Edward to Bella. There’s her blood, her mystery, and the fact that he likes what he sees.

And that last bit is what the whole ship hinges on, for obvious reasons.

But what exactly does he see?

When Edward is drafting out her personality, he draws conclusions based on what he wants to see. He likes Bella, and more, he wants her to be special. He ends up imagining someone who is of course much too good for him, who probably won’t even give him the time of day, a person who couldn’t care less about his inhuman beauty. He projects a persona onto Bella that is saintly, and honestly quite similar to Carlisle. This persona has little to nothing to do with who Bella is. A good example of how far removed Edward’s Bella is from the real Bella is that he’s surprised to learn she finds him attractive.

Cut to Twilight, and Bella spends 90% of the book fawning over his inhuman beauty, and being very much a mortal teenager who has a crush on a boy. It’s just that she doesn’t gossip with Jessica, and Edward can’t read her fangirling mind, so he never has to find out that his version of Bella is made up.

There’s also the fact that Bella is very much the ideal woman to Edward. Frail, ladylike, naturally beautiful without makeup, kind, nurturing, aloof and above the other, menial teens. Edward very much has a Madonna/Whore complex (look at how he treats Rosalie), and Bella is the ultimate Madonna.

Then there’s the fact that Bella is human, which is a whole other can of worms best reserved for another post. I’ll just say this, Edward is deeply disgusted by vampires, and would not have fallen in love with one.

So, I think Bella was a perfect storm. Delicious enough that he became obsessed with her based on that alone, being around her is torturous which in turn makes it a challenge he can’t resist, a hidden mind he can project whatever personality he like onto, and she’s the kind of woman he approves of. Even her taste in literature is something that a snob like Edward can agree with.

It was Bella or bust.

More, as you’ve perhaps guessed from this rant, I don’t believe Edward loves her. He thinks he does, and he wants to because he has this whole romantic fantasy he’s living with her, but he doesn’t. There are a lot of things he would have done differently in this series if he did, such as not taking her to that meadow in the first place when there was a good chance he could kill her.

[aetherarf]

Hi hello i saw your requests are open!! And i dont know if this is allowed but can you do genshin boys caught cheating and they played it off and later on they started to regret what they did and when they found the reader, the reader is now happy or disappeared or idk ITS UP TO YOU TO DEICIDE HEHEHEHE IM SORRY I LOVE READING ANGST SM SO ITS OKAY IF YOU WONT TAKE IT !! YOUR WORKS ARE REALLY GREAT BTW!!! (more than great i mean *chefs kiss*)

Yes I've finally gotten to this one! I hope it's angsty enough for you 😘

[[ WARNING: CHEATING, NON-LETHAL INJURY, ALCOHOL ]]

[[ Summary: Kaeya, Childe, and Diluc end up cheating on their partner... They get caught, not by their partner, but someone else. As the days pass, they begin to regret it... only for their little secret to get back to their lover...

Note, Kaeya's is longest/wordiest cuz I didn't realize I should probably be a bit more brief... Kaeya favouritism lol.

Overall Word Count: 3'602 [rip me]

Kaeya Word Count: 1'841

Childe Word Count: 950

Diluc Word Count: 811 ]]

Kaeya

Distantly, he remembers an old saying from Crepus, in response to his question-- "Why do people drink so much?"

"Well... Alcohol doesn't solve anything, but it can make you forget questions you'd rather not think about."

He understood that as he got older. Why stress, and think about things he could not control? ... Well, maybe he should deal with them, but that's easier said than done when his entire life was on the line. Every night, in the tavern, he drank to forget. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

And, somehow, he had forgotten more than he'd like to admit. On his lap, a beautiful woman, and he was tugged to a back closet of the Angel's Share. She tasted sweet, like wine and sugar. If it wasn't for an intruder, ( despite the fact that he was the one intruding into staff-only area ) he likely would have had a far better time, to completely lose himself in his inebriation.

"K-Kaeya!" Uh oh, as his vision focused, he could see Diluc's unmistakable silhouette, with that fluffy red hair and broad shoulders. "You," he pointed to the woman, "Out." The woman, not wanting to envoke the wrath of Sir Ragnvindr, running out immediately. But, Diluc didn't let Kaeya out, not that he was fighting to get out. Instead, he walked closer.

"What have you done?" he asked, voice low and full of rage. However, Kaeya could only smile,

"What do you mean, Master Ragnvindr?" He asked, all sly.

"You cheater," he snapped, "You do know that wasn't your partner? The one you swore yourself to? They were just looking for you, you know." He was nearly yelling, forcing his voice low...

And that, that idea, the realization of everything hit him harder than even the biggest bomb's that Klee had ever made. He... did.

"Look," The world was no longer warm an fuzzy, just a little shift away from his normal reality, everything crashing down. The thoughts that haunted him when you slept so peacefully in his arms, when he would see the knights laughing and smiling together, the ever-haunting knowledge that he was alone amongst them...

The way only you did not have that odd look in your eye, of wonder upon seeing something unique, or of something alien that terrified... You only looked at him as what he wished to be seen-a person.

And here he went, fucking it all up.

"Look," he said again, tears in his eye, "You, you can't tell anyone," He all but snapped at Diluc, who's eyes widened in shock, "I-I wouldn't tell if you did it, you have to do the same for me," he promised, desperately trying to think of what to do...

"Kaeya, this isn't about me, this is about you and-and them," Diluc didn't even need to say the name, "You're better than this, I won't tell, but only if you do."

Kaeya's brows furrowed, he wasn't used to feeling so... betrayed. Normally, it was expected, but this... but this was different! Wasn't it...?

"It has nothing to do with you, I... I can deal with it on my own, 'Luc." He insisted, straightening out his back. He was only a tiny bit taller than Diluc, but he wanted to hold it over him, to prove he wasn't going to let him use him over his... his mistake.

"Kaeya," his voice was... softer. Kaeya didn't want to hear this voice, this consoling voice. Not after everything, not... not like this!

"Fuck off, Diluc," he snapped, pushing him to the wall as he stormed out, "You made it clear you want nothing to do with me, don't try now. Not like this," he demanded, seeing Diluc look at him, eyes wide... shocked.

"Fine. Get out and don't come back." Diluc hissed, voice much lower, his eyes glazed over. Kaeya almost wanted to yell at him, to keep fighting... But, no, no, he didn't. He couldn't do that here, not when he was too desperate to figure out what to do, leaving through the front of Angel's Share, slamming the door behind him.

And he ran. He didn't know why, he wasn't headed home, but he just... he felt like he was running from his mistakes, the wind biting at his face, until he finally skidded into an alleyway, his back against the wall, his hand put up to his mouth, biting at the base of his thumb to stifle the sobs that wanted to burst from his chest. It hurt, oh, it hurt, but it felt... right, it felt like he should hurt, his teeth clasping harder onto his hand, tears rolling from his eye as he roughly breathed through his nostrils, his brain desperately trying to figure out what to do, what to say, what to think... But it all only ended up in a jumbled mess, of black and red and tears and crying.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time he stopped biting his hand, it felt... hot, for some reason, and as he looked at his hand...

Red. Bite marks. His teeth had sunk in so deep, his skin was broken and reddened and bloody. He couldn't even feel the pain, like when the burning fire had turned to grey, dead embers... he felt nothing, his own bodily sensations distant in an odd way.

He doesn't even know why, but upon seeing his blood ooze from his flesh, he swing his fist towards the brick, hearing it clatter against it. He stared at his hand, pulling off his glove to stare, dazed, at his busted knuckles.

Holding his fist close to his chest, he finally walked home.

If I don't tell them, he thought, I can live with it. I've lived with worse. I live with worse.

He didn't want to.

But he did that-he cheated. He cheated on the one person that could make everything feel okay, like he never hurt anyone, like he wasn't from a distant corrupt land, like he wasn't the monster he was told to be.

Should he say it? Tell directly?

...

It wouldn't matter if he told immediately or in a week. He-he trusted you'd understand, he could... He could figure it out. He just, his brain was both sinking and floating, drunk yet sober, he wasn't in his own body right about now. He was somewhere gone, and he couldn't be making any decisions.

Shambling his way home, he opened the front door... And hesitated, listening. Looking. You weren't in eyeshot or earshot, so... He could wrap up his hand before he gave everything away, or at least, his temper tantrum of sorts. He rummaged around before finding that small first aide kit, cleaning the wounds of his own cause, and bandaged up his hand... for a second, he tensed, hearing your footsteps, but he opted to finish wrapping it before you could see.

"Kaeyaaa..." You whined, "You didn't come to bed..." You walked over, hugging him from the side, resting your head on him. How sweet you were, how cuddly... As though nothing happened.

"I'll come to bed in a minute," he said, "I just need to finish this real quick."

You peeked over to look at whatever he was messing with, and woke up in an instant, reaching over to his hand as he was tucking the end of the bandage away, so it wouldn't unravel so easily. "What happened?" You asked, tenderly holding his injured hand with both of yours.

"Nothing to be worried about," he reassured, trying to hide how his voice shook, "Just wanted to patch it up."

With one hand, you gently stroked his, and then lifted it to your mouth to give a loving kiss atop it. "Are you okay to come to bed?" You asked, still tired from the late hour.

"Of course," he wanted to kiss you, badly, but he refrained. You shouldn't, Kaeya, your mouth is dirty.

The two of you walked to bed, he undressing just enough to comfortably lie down...

Feeling how you snuggled up to him, sighing in such comfort now that he was home, and how you soon became a weight upon him as you sunk back into sleep...

However, he did not sleep that night. Or the next, or the next... Or the next.

Days, truly, passed. He did not sleep, he was not sleeping, Jean even scolded him for blacking out more than once, stunned when one second he was standing, and the next he was on the ground, no memory of having fallen, with the knights consoling him.

He started staying later, he had not gone back to the Angel's Share. Many mornings, he was not there when you woke. You knew he was busy, but... this was horrific.

Eventually, two weeks have passed. He steeled his nerves, and he was going to talk to you about it. He didn't want to live like this, with this guilt and agony upon the things he could not fix--but he could fix this. He could-he could make this better.

But, as he walked into your shared home... an eerie silence. As he looked around, it felt like... a lot was missing.

Everything that was missing, from simple objects placed about to pictures on the walls, were all yours. Of you.

Save for a single picture frame, with shattered glass, and a picture of him and you, smiling. It was one of the more coherent pictures the two of you had made.

Beside it, a note.

Dear Kaeya,

A woman came to me recently, telling me of you. Of how you kissed her, and nearly slept with her at the Angel's Share. She was unaware of the fact that you had a partner, and had finally found and confided in me about this.

I don't know what made you cheat on me like this, but worse still you've been avoiding me, and you wouldn't even tell me. If I knew... then we could have talked about it, we could have gotten counseling. We could have fixed this--fixed us. But you were gone.

I don't want to hear you say it, say that you don't love me or you don't want to be with me, so I left. I'm not in Mondstadt, I've gone to live with someone I can actually trust. Please don't look for me, I need time. Your lack of communication was enough to tell me you don't care enough to fix this.

Sincerely, Your former beloved.

Tears truckled down onto the paper, and he nearly crushed it in a single fist... But, no, he couldn't, he couldn't destroy the last connection he had to you, no matter how badly he wanted to rip out his eye, so he never had to look at it ever again. He collapsed the floor, the letter, and the framed picture falling to the ground, a broken, loud laughter rung through the house as tears fells down his face, maniacal in nature...

He wanted to be alone, and gone, for a long... long time.

Childe

Childe didn't understand the meaning of 'exclusive' as well. He loved you, dearly, but to him, love was a thing to be given more freely. Maybe it was just a lack of communication, or maybe he completely misunderstood your words, but with an old friend he slept with time and time again...

When Scaramouche saw him sending off his friend with a goodbye kiss, it being a casual commoditiy in his mind, only then did he get utterly chewed out for this.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Scaramouche snarled at him, "You're not even shameful about this, you cheater." He snapped, as though he was truly angry for you, instead of just a generally very angry person. Childe shrugged.

"I wouldn't mind if they slept with someone else," he said casually, "Doesn't mean they love me any less, you know?"

Scaramouche tried to response, but he was simply flabberghasted. "Most people don't think that way, you airheaded moron."

Childe just laughed, brushing off the shorter harbinger, before walking off without a care.

But... in the end, the words got to him.

Maybe you didn't think that way? You two had spoken of marriage, a very possible reality that he was looking forward to... But, maybe there was a... culture clash, maybe? A clash of upbringings?

He found himself wondering these things at night, when you were snuggled up to him, unaware of the whirlwind of fear in his mind.

Silently, he resolved to simply stop--It would keep you happy, a little secret he didn't mind keeping. Maybe in many, many years, he'd mention it, but... he thought that was okay. That could be the last time he'd ever do something like that...

But, as he came home... You were sitting, waiting for him.

"Please, come sit down, Ajax," that morose tone, it made his heart ache... so he obeyed without question. You looked at him, face puffy and eyes red... "Tell me the truth," you asked, his heart sinking, "Did you cheat on me?"

He froze, but... "Y-yes, but-"

"I don't need an explanation," you admitted, a small, broken smile on your face, "I knew I wasn't loveable enough."

"Wait, no, no, that's not it at all-"

"No," you interrupted, "I don't need an explanation. I'll be out by tonight," you looked down at your lap, his heart shattering into even smaller pieces,

"Babe... please, please, let me explain, I'll never do it again-"

You stood,

"If you'd do it once, you'd do it again. Don't talk to me," you hesitated, "If you want me to be happy, don't look for me ever again."

He was trying to reach for you... but, he couldn't make himself grab you, not when you so delicately shied away...

Eventually, he gave up. No amount of fighting would stop you, and... and he... he couldn't keep seeing your pain as you cried for him to just leave you alone.

Was this love? The pain of another, the terror not of considering spending the rest of your life with them, but the terror of not spending the rest of your life with them?

Before he knew it, he was staring at a mirror, shards of glass in his fist, more than a few holes in the wall and a broken door, the shattered mirror distorting his expression...

Upon walking through the house, he saw that there was... it felt so empty, without your delicate touch and presence making it a place he lovingly called home.

"No," he whispered, hoping... were you here? Did you see... whatever he blacked out and did, the tantrum he did not remember? Did he, oh gods above, oh gods, he didn't hurt you, did he?

...

But he never got an opportunity to find out.

By the time he had sobered up from his tantrum... you were gone. Only a note, left behind, Don't look for me.

Because, you both knew, if he really wanted to find you, he could. He could capture you, trap you... hurt you.

But he didn't want any of that, as much as it hurt to have you away... to make you hate him anymore than you already did was enough to drive a man to near insanity.

Even after you had been gone, he would sit, whenever he was not forced to work, to fulfil his duties to the Tsaritsa... he would wait. He would cook your favourite dishes, read the books you liked, go to the places you enjoyed...

Only after weeks of this, did it hit him that you truly were never coming home. He knew that, but... but, somehow, his heart, his emotions hadn't caught up.

For a second time, he had destroyed your shared, no... his home.

It just wasn't home without you.

Unable to endure the idea of still being here, of a place where he had held you so many times, kissed you, loved you, and suddenly you were all but gone... He tried to do anything to avoid it, to avoid that demon that desperately tried to crawl out of him, threatening to burst from his chest.

Even the other Harbingers had noticed this, how... awful he had been, how he had lost himself. Even Scaramouche, the one most openly said to be the easiest to hate amongst them all, with an uncanny talent to bring even the most pacificistic souls to pure rage, had done well to stay his tongue, never kind, never sweet, but he would give him the isolation he craved, only speaking as much was necessary.

He didn't know what to do with himself, but whenever that happened... he'd just throw himself to the maws of death and, unluckily, crawl his way back out.

Diluc

Everything felt hot and fuzzy and...

Red.

Was red a feeling? His face was red, his body burned, and he could scarcely breathe, he definitely had accidentally drunk some alcohol, but for once, the effects of inebriation hit him. However, while he couldn't understand why people would devote their lives to this sensation, he could appreciate reality being distant, when he knew if he wasn't drunk, he would have spit up the wine and some extra blood, making it an even richer red color.

A warm feeling around his dick, he saw a pretty, if not distorted, face. It didn't take long for him to explode with sensation, his eyes shot wide... and a kiss pressed to his lips.

He almost chased that pretty face, only to see it disappear, he falling to his knees, rasping for air. Moments later, he felt hands on his shoulder's, shaking him. He shot his head up, seeing Kaeya looking at him in fear, and distantly, he heard his name...

"Diluc. Diluc. Diluc! Say something!"

Diluc stared at him, and opened his mouth to speak, but he only ended up jerking his head down, coughing into his elbow, seeing blood on his black coat... Kaeya noticed, too, frozen in shock.

"What happened?" he asked, his eye wide in shock.

"I..." Diluc rasped out, and his eyes widened in shock.

He realized what he had done.

He. He slept with someone who was most definitely not the one he had sworn himself to. Some-some random woman who was likely enchanted by the prospect of a rich man.

"Diluc!" Kaeya shouted, afraid, "What happened?"

Diluc shoved himself up, his hand on Kaeya's shoulder, already rushing to run out and all the way back to the Winery-but not before Kaeya grabbed him, stopping him, strength near equally matched.

"'Luc, I'm not letting you go anywhere until you-"

"I did," Diluc was still gasping for air, "I did something terrible." He admitted, with no small amount of pain.

"What did you do?" Kaeya asked, "Don't run, don't run, you're going to choke on your own blood-"

"No!" Diluc shouted, throwing Kaeya off his arm, running on pure adrenaline, even as his face was beet red, and his vision blurred.

But he needed to confess his sins, immediately, he needed to... now, now, now!

He heard Kaeya shout, but in the end, as he had to stop just to rasp for air again, the burn of alcohol still in his throat, he heard no shouting, nothing but the sound of his thundering heartbeats in his own ears.

Finally, he got to the Winery. You saw him, shocked, seeing his red face and how distressed he was, his hair nothing short of a fluffy mess.

"Diluc," you run over, he leaning on you, just to not collapse from the lack of air, "Diluc, what's wrong?"

"I-I..." He shuttered out, sucking in a breath, "I cheated on you."

You were reeling, "You-What?"

"I-I accidentally drank wine. I was drunk, I can't..." He was still heaving, "I can't breathe... I don't... I don't know what happened, but... She... a woman, she..."

He couldn't finish, but he didn't need to.

"You cheated on me and the first thing you did was come home and brag about it?" You asked, equal parts anguish and anger,

"No," he rasped, his knees buckling as the world tried to disappear on him, "I can't..." his hand went to his throat, "Wait..."

He didn't know what happened, but he only saw flashes after that--Your tears, his bloodied hands, you leaving.

And he was alone, on the ground, barely able to breathe, to think... to do anything.

You left him.

You were gone.

And, somehow, he wasn't mad at all. Having breathed long enough to move again, he stood... and he found the half-empty bottle of wine left on the table, the wine you adored so.

He grabbed the bottle and drank straight from it, feeling his throat and tongue swell, it crashing to the ground as he fell, unable to rasp even the slightest breaths,

I deserve this, he thought, I deserve this. This is all I deserve.

...

...?

For some reason, despite his better wishes, he woke up. He lay in bed, a cool, wet cloth over his forehead... his flesh burned, and his tongue was still swollen, he unable to wiggle it in his mouth. His breathing, still, was labored, but it seemed that he was still breathing, despite everything.

He watched as Adelinde cautiously walked over, looking down at his face, "... Master Diluc, are you alright?"

No, he wasn't, but he could not even sob and cry, for he could not breathe enough to do so.

A cruel twist of fate, but he was not deserving to cry, he was the one who hurt you. You did nothing but love him.

He didn't deserve anything right now.

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[favoniuscodex]

you get kidnapped by the fatui headcanons (diluc & kaeya)

prompt: Diluc and Kaeya headcanons for reader getting kidnapped by the Fatui before they have a chance to confess that they’re in love with her, as requested by @lohai-of-favonius​ word count: 2.1k (lol “headcanons”) characters featured: diluc, kaeya reader: gender-neutral/female/male (can be read any way, it’s in second-person pov) style: headcanons w/ angst then fluff warnings: possible spoilers for diluc & kaeya related info, light descriptions of injuries, kidnapping, light descriptions of violence

a/n: i made these into headcanons, i hope that’s okay! i was getting a little longwinded on the both of them and i feel like the scenarios would’ve turned into full length fics otherwise haha. i definitely need to learn to write less. i hope i interpreted the prompt well! 

“I have a commission awaiting me,” You stated, refusing to make eye contact with the man in front of you as you absentmindedly fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt. “In Liyue. Looking for a missing person. Should be routine stuff, I’ll be back in a week, max.”

You glanced at the man in front of you. If you could notice the concern he wore on his expression, you failed to verbally acknowledge it and instead took one of their hands in yours, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. You don’t have to ring the alarm bells just yet!” You joked, plastering a small smile. As the man in front of you realized his expression was morphing into one of worry, he smoothed over his expression and composed himself.

He knew he couldn’t control your actions, nor had any room in stating which course of action you should take when it came to accepting your commissions. Missing person cases, while a valiant cause, often led to bad news. But, you were a hero at heart and here he stood, merely a friend of yours. Now wasn’t the time for a heartfelt confession of love that he desired to send your way. Doing so would only unfairly manipulate you into staying and he knew you were strong enough to make it back on your own.

But, a week later, as he awaited your arrival at the gates of Mondstadt, worry plagued the man who had fallen in love with your heroic, dutiful spirit over the last few months. As the hours ticked by, he realized he needed to have a new course of action...

KAEYA

Upon you going missing with little to no information, Kaeya would notify the Knights of Favonius, first and foremost. In fact, he speaks to Amber first, as he believes her to be trustworthy and her status as an Outrider makes her most likely to encounter you first.

However, despite his growing concern, he remains optimistic. You’re a strong fighter who has helped him clear countless hilichurl camps. He knows you can handle yourself well. You’re likely just taking longer than expected or picked up extra work in Liyue before returning.

A few days later, Fischl, one of the Adventurer’s Guild’s investigators, approaches him with information on your whereabouts. However, after lots of back and forth between the two, he finally understands (with the help of Oz’s translations) that you’ve been kidnapped by the Fatui.

Kaeya immediately panics, but manages to keep his cool, charming facade up until Fischl leaves his presence. Now left alone in his office in the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Kaeya paces around, trying to think of a plan.

Kaeya wants nothing more than to ride a horse straight into Liyue and search for you, taking down anyone that gets in his way. However, there’s one thing that limits him: Diplomacy.

Kaeya’s a part of the Mondstadtian government, meaning that any action he takes in Liyue directly reflects on the nation of Mondstadt as a whole. It wouldn’t look good to dirty his hands with Fatui blood in a land that isn’t his own. Not only would it be detrimental to his well-being, it would also put the freedom of Mondstadt at risk, which goes directly against the promise he made when being sworn in as a Knight.

Therefore, he has to use the next best thing: Connections. The Adventurer’s Guild has been extremely helpful on intel, he has friends in the Liyue Millileth, and he’s even willing to swallow his pride and reach out to Diluc if it means your safe return.

Diluc, despite his tense relationship with his brother, has always had a soft spot for your presence, so he’s more than willing to help by spreading word around the tavern.

As days go by, Kaeya gets antsy and right when he’s about to say fuck it and mess up the entirety of Sneznhayan-Liyuean-Mondstadtian geopolitical relations by murdering some Fatui to get you back, Amber bursts into his office and doubles over, trying to catch her breath after sprinting to the Knights of Favonius headquarters.

“We found her. With Barbara,” She manages to wheeze out. Without caring for the state of the Outrider’s lungs, Kaeya shoves past her and immediately sprints to the cathedral.

He rushes to the back where he’s met with your figure lying in a hospital bed. As he enters your room, your eyes flutter open to give him a bleary-eyed smile, despite all of your injuries.

He opts for sitting next to you and taking your uninjured hand in his, hesitant to move you a lot in fear that it would only hurt you. However, he wants nothing more than to wrap you in his embrace and never let you go. But instead, he simply brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles lightly, whispering a thank you to Barbatos for your safe return as his lips ghost along your skin.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes as Kaeya plays with your fingers, trying to think of the words to say. You, on the other hand, are content with sitting in silence, far too tired to explain everything that had happened to you over the course of your adventure.

“Who rescued you?” The first words out of Kaeya’s mouth are not a love confession, but rather embittered words, laced with jealousy. He wants nothing more than have to been the knight to bust down the door of wherever you were held captive and whisk you away to safety, solidifying the image of him in your eyes as a protector.

“I rescued myself,” You speak softly, a smirk spreading across your lips. “I beat up those Fatui jerks and escaped myself.”

Kaeya looks up from gazing absentmindedly at your hand and makes eye contact with you. Before he can stop it, a proud laugh escapes from his lips and you begin to laugh with him too. Despite all his worries, you had come back alive and in one piece, just scraped up. You didn’t need him to play protector -- you had yourself. He was just designed to be your cheerleader. As this thought settled into his head, his laughter subsided and a content smile graced his lips.

“I’m in love with you,” He confesses in the comfortable silence between the two of you. Kaeya was normally the type for bald-faced lies, but tonight, he felt as if he wanted nothing more than to peel back his layers of mystery and be honest with you.

You beam at him, rotating your hand in his grip and squeezing back. “I know. Aren’t you lucky that I feel the same way?”

DILUC

When you go missing, Diluc immediately expects foul play. He’s definitely more worrisome than Kaeya, but Diluc is more fearful of losing the one he loves. He’s experienced loss before and has built up walls around himself to avoid losing that again and, while Kaeya does the same, Diluc is far less charming and suave with his words.

Diluc has let you in as both a friend and has fallen in love with you. He doesn’t want to lose you before he can tell you how you’ve broken down his walls.

He trusts you to be able to take care of yourself, but even the mightiest of warriors can be kept off guard. Therefore, Diluc begins using his wealth to find information out about your location and what happened to you. While it might not result in the most reliable information, Diluc knows money can get people to talk more than anything.

Diluc quickly learns that the Fatui are holding you hostage and finds out where. The location is in Liyue, so Diluc does what Diluc does best: He sets out to rescue you himself.

He doesn’t take much with him besides a horse, his claymore, some food and medical supplies, and your weapon of choice. He doesn’t know what shape you’ll be in, but he knows that if you’re even remotely conscious, you’ll want to help him fight.

When he infiltrates where the Fatui are holding you, he’s filled with rage upon seeing your bruised and beaten form in the corner, chained to the wall, as if the Fatui had tried to get information out of you but failed.

Determined to rescue you safely, Diluc realizes that he’d have to fight the multiple Fatui that were now alert to his presence as well. The four Fatui members in the vicinity look like they had already had a rough time capturing you and are less than thrilled at the prospect of fighting Mondstadt’s Darknight Hero.

However, Diluc will be damned if he lets them run. He makes quick work of the Fatui members, thanks to your assistance in fighting as hard as you could before being captured.

Once the Fatui are defeated, Diluc immediately crouches by your figure, breaking the shackles holding you with his claymore.

“My hero,” You sigh in a dreamy voice as a mischievous grin forms on your face, causing Diluc to both sigh in exasperation and flush red at the same time. However, your voice becomes sincere as you utter your next words. “Thank you.”

“You would do the same for me,” Diluc responds, his words filled with truth. Diluc trusts you more than anyone else in Teyvat. He scoops you up bridal-style and carries you over to his horse. The two of you ride back to Dawn Winery in silence, with you sitting in front of him as he holds the reins. His arms around your waist prevent you from falling and the rhythmic motions of the horse lull you into sleep.

You awake in one of Dawn Winery’s beds with fresh bandages. At your bedside, fresh water and fruit had been placed for your consumption upon waking, but you’re not too concerned with either at the moment. You decide to eat some before going to find Diluc, realizing that he’d probably chew you out for not taking care of yourself if he found out.

As soon as you’re finished, you hobble out of bed, determined to find Diluc. You spot him on the balcony and as you creak open the door, Diluc whips his head around and frowns at you.

“You should be in bed,” He chastises, immediately rushing over to you. He notices the fact that you have to lean against the doorframe for support and sighs. “Why would you ever get out of bed with your injuries?”

You let out a small giggle. “I wanted to see my charming hero, who is just as excited to see me too,” You croon, enjoying the way the tips of his ears flush red at your teasing. You reach out your arms to him. “Carry me back?”

Diluc sighs and picks you up once again. “You have me wrapped around your finger,” He murmurs into your hair as he carries you back. You’ve latched onto him like a koala, with his hands supporting your thighs and your arms around his shoulders. You bury your face into his neck and sigh with content, causing him to flush an even deeper shade of red.

Despite his embarrassment about the current situation coloring his face, Diluc realizes that he doesn’t mind if everyone else in the winery sees him carrying you like this. It would showcase that you were clearly his.

As the two of you return to your room, Diluc gently lays you down on the bed and turns to leave, but you grab his wrist before he can make his escape. His face is still flushed a deep scarlet when he turns around to face you, causing you to let out another laugh.

As the morning sun filters in through the window, your eyes twinkle with delight as you stare up at Diluc, happy to be in his presence. Diluc looks down at you, entranced by how carefree you look, despite the hell of what you had just gone through. Despite all the bandages that cover your face, arms, legs, and torso, Diluc views you as a sculpture crafted with the finest materials by the gods themselves.

As he brushes the hair out of your face, Diluc realizes that he would rescue you a thousand times over if he could relive this moment of you being happy, without any of life’s typical worries etched into your face. That’s when he fully realizes how he feels about you, embracing the feelings he had long sought to push away.

“I’m in love with you,” He states, gently cupping your face in his hand. You reach up and cover his hand with yours, smiling softly at him.

“I’m in love with you too, Diluc,” You murmur as he closes the distance between the two of you and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips.

[diegos-butt]

Unnoticed (chapter one)

Summary: He had watch her grown up. He had seen her transform into a beautiful woman, with a strong will but insecurities. Despite being away from time to time, he had fallen for her, hard. She on the other hand, had seen him become a big, strong man. But deep down she knew he had a soft side. She had fallen, hard, for him too. Another thing they have in common? The believe that the other will never feel the same. Will their feelings for each other always stay unnoticed?

Captain Daniel Syverson x Kathy Davis (plus size/curvy/thick OFC)

Warnings: none. bad writing maybe. mention of beer?

Wordcount: 5.4k 👀

A/N: I tried something here so bear with me. Honestly curious of what y'all think.

•••

I was walking to my brother Tim’s house as the sun was settling down. He was throwing a barbeque for his best friend’s return, Captain Daniel – Dan – Syverson, or just Sy, as we usually called him. I smiled as I thought of him. I had known him for so long. He and my brother had been friends since I was born. So, I grew up with them, teasing me but when someone bullied me, they were there faster than the blink of an eye, ready to knock the bully down.

They always stood up for me, even though they knew I could take care of it myself. But they insisted. Every time. And that was nice, to know they would. To know I always had someone who would be there for me.

As we got older, our groups of friends intertwined, and we became one larger group of close friends. Me, Tim, Sy, Holly, Shane, Benjamin, and Brianna. We all lived in this town, went to the same high school. Some of us even went to college together. Now we were all working in this town as well, except for the captain. He was away from time to time. And I would never admit it, but I missed him so much while he was gone. My brother’s house came into my sight, and my heart skipped a beat. After all these months, I was finally seeing him again.

When I fell for him? I can’t even remember; it is like I have always been. However, I have always tried to hide it, so he doesn’t know. At least, that’s what I think. If he does, he’s being a good friend and doesn’t treat me any differently.

What our friendship is like? Teasing, and full of sarcastic comments. Unlike everyone else, he calls me Kat instead of Kathy. I’d never want to change that, so I will not ruin that by confessing my feelings. What’s the point? He does not and never will feel the same. Right?

I took a deep breath and opened the door of my brother’s house, hoping Sy would already be there. I walked through the hallway and living room until the garden came into my sight. Sy just disappeared into the shed, so I walked through the doors outside, and said hello to my brother.

“Hey sis,” he welcomed me and gave me a hug. “He’s already here you know. I’m sure he showed up early for you.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s not true, he is just happy to see his best friend again,” I laughed and slapped Tim on his arm.

“You might be able to fool him, but I can see the nerves in your eyes Kathy. Just admit you’re happy he’s back,” Tim teased. I wanted to smack him when we heard noises coming from the shed. Sy walked out carrying two lawn chairs.

Tim released me from his hug. “Go say hi to him,” he whispered. I took a step towards Sy, and felt my heartbeat increasing. He dropped the lawn chairs and proceeded to walk to me. Our steps became faster, and quickly he was close enough to wrap me in his arms. He lifted me up and I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a little squeal. He smelled good, manly, but so good. His buzzcut was starting to grow out, and I couldn’t help myself but to stroke his head. He buried his face in my neck, and I giggled. He was home.

“You’re back,” I said softly, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy. Contain yourself, he doesn’t need to know you missed him that much.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here darlin’,” he answered, and I could see in his eyes that he was happy to be home again.

“Welcome home you big idiot,” I grinned, I loved teasing him.

After squeezing me tight one more time, he’d put me down again. Suddenly I realized the sounds that disappeared when my eyes met his for the first time in so long had come back. The sound of the flock of birds came back, just as the noises Tim was making while meddling with the barbeque.

“Oh, that’s how ya welcome me back home?” Sy said. I laughed and walked past him, while picking up one of the lawn chairs.

When he’d lifted me up, it was just me and him. He always does that when he comes back from a tour. I don’t even know how it started, but it had become a thing. He knows I like that, that I love that. He is the only one I trust enough for that, because I know he will never let me fall. I did fall though, but in a different way.

“I could also have started by saying you should trim your beard. It looks like shit right now,” I mocked, and walked past him. He’d placed his hand on his chest and pretended I had hurt him. His chest though, how on earth did he get even bigger? Quickly, I moved towards the sitting area, and placed the lawn chair down. He followed close behind, and when I looked around, I saw his eyes moving up. Was he looking at my bum? Why? I tried to not look puzzled, but I felt like I was failing hard.

“Ya know, being disrespectful in the army can get you in a lot of trouble,” he said and handed me a beer. His hand touched mine slightly, and I pulled my hand away quickly.

“Really? You’re going to punish me then?” I raised an eyebrow at him. You can punish me in a couple ways captain. No Kathy, he is your friend. He is just your friend.

“Who knows.” He cocked an eyebrow at me and finished his beer. I nearly chocked on mine, and thankfully Shane and Benjamin busted through the door and stepped outside onto the terrace, preventing the continuation of the conversation between me and Sy. They were cheering loudly, screaming Sy’s name, and hugging him. I chuckled and took a few more sips of my beer.

I watched as Shane and Benjamin tried to tackle Sy, they obviously failed. To be fair, Shane and Benjamin weren’t small guys either, but Sy was definitely bigger. I took a sip of my beer and watched as my brother joined them.

While watching the boys I noticed Sy’s physique, he looked even more broad than before. I had no idea that was possible. He currently had Shane in a headlock, flexing his bicep. I wanted to crawl under that arm myself, not in that headlock, but still. He could choke me though.

I was rudely awakened out of my daydreaming when Holly and Brianna suddenly stood next to me. The two girls tried to hug me at the same time, which failed due to their hight difference. Me and Brianna were both quite tall, while Holly was smaller.

“Kathy! Let me guess, the captain has already said hello to you?” Holly said and wiggled her eyebrows. Trying to hide the fact I had a thing for the captain from them was useless, these girls knew me better than I knew myself.

“Did he do that cute hug yet were he lifts you up?” Brianna added while hooking her arm through mine.

“Hello to you too, and yes he said hello to me, and yes he did that hug thing. Don’t make it look like it’s a big deal!” I said and took the last sip of my beer.

“No, did I miss it? That is my favourite part of Sy’s return!” Holly pouted. The brunette took the beer bottle out of my hand and placed it on the table. “Sy! Aren’t you going to say hello to us or what?” she shouted. The boys stopped talking and closed the gap between our groups.

“Hi girls.” Sy opened his arms for Holly and Brianna and gave them both a hug. The chatter immediately started, everyone asking Sy questions about how he was doing, and how happy he was to be back.

“Stop! Everyone, stop talking for a minute!” Brianna shouted. “Since Holly and I were a bit late, we missed the famous welcome back hug between Sy and Kathy.”

“I was there,” Tim laughed. “Maybe you should’ve known they would both be here early.”

“We were planning on being early, but sweet Holly over here was being incredible slow,” Brianna said and gave Holly a death glare which turned into a little smile.

“I think they should do it again,” Holly grinned. Oh no.

“I think they should too, apparently we all, except Tim, missed the highlight of Sy’s return. We should not be robbed of that moment,” Shane agreed, and a playful smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, come on guys!” I said. “The man has just gotten home! Give him a break.” If he lifts me up again, I might faint. This actually made them cheer even louder.

“C’mere darlin’. Let’s give the audience what they want.” He gave his beer to Benjamin and winked at me.

He caged me in his strong arms again, lifting me up, effortlessly. I threw my arms around his neck, and I heard everyone around us cheer. This was my happy place. I don’t know if it is the being lifted part, of just being held by his strong arms.

Far too soon for my liking, he had put me down on my feet again. His eyes locked with mine, and I nearly drowned. The blue in his eyes looked even brighter than ever before.

I was rudely pulled away by Shane, who cheered loudly while putting his arm around my shoulder. Everyone was laughing and cheering. Benjamin walked inside to grab the speaker, and a few seconds later music mixed with our noises in the garden.

“Hey guys, who wants to eat?” Tim shouted.

“Better give me a sausage, I’m in the mood for some meat,” Holly answered with a mischievous grin. I laughed at her; she was never afraid to speak her mind.

After we had finished eating, we all sat around the firepit. The sun was already gone, and the moon and stars shone above us. While we were eating Sy wanted to know what we had been up to. We were all doing great, we had jobs and nothing major had happened. Unlike last time, no pregnancy scare for Holly. Me and Brianna did start our own business, after our last employer went bankrupt. We were now the proud owners of our own interior design business.

After we were done telling Sy about the last months, Brianna had asked Sy about his. I saw the look in his eyes change, he looked down at the glass in his hand, and avoided the question. I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Thankfully, Benjamin understood it as well.

“Sy, a toast to you!” Benjamin said, and raised his glass. “Welcome home man.” We all raised our glasses as well.

“Thank ya Ben, it’s good to be back. And I’d like to thank y’all for writing me those letters. They mean a lot to me,” Sy said. I thought about the letters I’d send him. There were many, so many. A few years ago, I had no idea what to write, but eventually I figured I would write what I wish I could tell him. I wished I could talk to him about my day, about things that bothered me, about things that made me happy.

Quickly I learned he liked it. When he got home the first time I did that, he had thanked me in private. He had told me it helped him get through tough days, that it made him feel like he was home. In that moment, I was so close of telling him how I felt. Yet I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk losing him as a friend.

He did write me back, but his letters weren’t as long as mine. They were usually a paragraph or two. He wasn’t that much of a talker, I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from teasing him.

“Well, next time you could try and write longer ones back you know,” I began. “I have put so much effort into my pages long letters, and all I get back is a paragraph from you just thanking me.” I attempted to pout but started laughing. “Nah, just kidding. We know it means a lot, so we’re happy to write them.”

I smiled at him. The letters kept him sane, and I was happy to send them. Just like the others. I looked at Sy, he sat opposite of me, and I wished he’d sat beside me. His body radiated a warmth that was always welcome, even if he just sat a meter away from me. But from this distance, I could not feel it.

“Don’t be funny darlin’. Might not answer yours next time,” he joked and pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Like you would ignore her Sy,” Shane mocked. Wait, what? What is that supposed to mean. Everybody started laughing, while I was starting to freak out. I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the conversation around me continued, and the moment to ask a question about it was gone. My mind was going crazy, and I pretended to listen to the conversation, but I didn’t hear a thing. I know he wouldn’t ignore me, but why did Shane say it like that? And why did Sy suddenly look so awkward?

The fire slowly went out, and that was our cue to head home. We all stood up, and helped Tim clean the mess we made.

“Guys, why don’t you all just go home. I’ll help Tim clean up the rest!” Brianna suggested. I knew she had a thing for my brother, and this was her way of getting close to him. Of being alone with him.

Everyone laughed but agreed. A very nice thing of living close to each other, was that we were all able to walk home. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin walked home together, and Sy suggested he’d walk with me, since we both had to go in a different direction than the others. I walked inside to grab my cardigan, while Sy lifted two lawn chairs back to the shed. When we were out of reach, the others started talking.

“Are they seriously never going to notice they like each other? Or is it just obvious to me?” Shane said.

“Oh dear, it is painfully obvious,” Brianna added.

“I think we need to help them a little. They need a little push,” Holly suggested. They all agreed, but they couldn’t continue discussing their little plan because Sy and I appeared again. Completely unaware of the conversation that just happened.

We said goodbye to Tim and Brianna, and walked home. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin took a left, and Sy and I took a right. It was just us, walking next to each other. It felt nice to be in his presence again, and because I was so close to him, I could finally feel his warmth again. We spend the way walking to my home talking, he wanted to know everything about the business I started with Brianna and how my family was.

Far too soon, we reached my home. We stopped in front of the house, a small 2-bedroom home. But it was nice, and cosy. I liked it there, but I was ready for the next step. To settle down with someone. With him, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

We faced each other, and fell silent. I looked at him, the moonlight highlighted his face, and I spotted some new scars. I wanted to trace them with my fingers, but I restrained myself.

“Alright, well, it is so nice to have you back Sy,” I said.

“It is nice to be back here,” he smiled. We fell silent again, and I smiled back at him.

“I should go inside,” I spoke softly, and opened my arms to hug him.

He hummed and wrapped his arms around me. He squeezed me tightly, and I nuzzled my face in his neck. He smelled so good; I loved his cologne. We broke up the hug, but he kept me close and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. My heart was beating fast, and my breathing started to get heavier.

“Goodnight darlin’,” he said and winked, or at least he tried to.

“Goodnight captain,” I answered, and gave him a smile. He laughed, and started to walk away backwards, and watched me until I was inside. I waved at him before I closed the door and saw how he waved back and turned around to walk home.

I leant with my back to the front door and sighed. Will he for always not notice my feelings for him?

I watched Tim as he prepared the barbeque. The soft rays of sunlight spreading through the garden. The sunlight reminded me of her, Kathy, or Kat as I liked to call her. Especially the last time I saw her before my deployment. The sun shone on her face, and lit up her hair, making her look like a goddess. I almost broke my promise to myself and told her how I felt. I could never tell her; I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

The teasing, the banter, the sarcastic comments. Even though I pretended she annoyed me sometimes, I missed her and our dynamic the most while I was away. She kept me sharp, a goal to come back to. Thanks to her I got through those months. Especially her letters. Those long letters.

She was actually the reason I had shown up early at Tim’s house. I was hoping she would be here early too, so we’d have a little moment of privacy. Well, Tim was there, but he knew how I felt. He had known for a long time. I had always seen Kat as Tim’s little sister, but the moment she started to become a woman, that changed. I had always fancied her presence, her humour and we got along very well. But ever since she had grown into a beautiful woman, it had been different. I wanted more, but I knew that would never happen. Nevertheless, I settled for being her friend because I could not bear not having her in my life.

I grabbed a beer and opened it, quickly taking a few sips. Too caught up in my own thoughts, I nearly missed Tim asking me to grab a few more lawn chairs from the shed at the end of the garden. I set my beer down of the table, nodded at him and walked to the shed.

The shed was dark, but I spotted the lawn chairs without any problems. Those nights in the dark desert had increased my night vision. I was about to step outside when I heard it. A laugh, but not just a laugh. Her laugh. It was like music to my ears. She was here, finally. Kat.

Hastily, I stepped outside, and my gaze immediately fell on her. She hugged her brother as they laughed. When Tim let her out of his embrace, her eyes locked with mine. Completely forgotten about the lawn chairs, I dropped them and started to walk towards her. Her feet moved as well, making their way to me, speeding up a little.

Before I knew it, she was in arms reach, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squealed. One of her hands stroked my hair that was starting to grow out, and she nuzzled her face in my neck while I smelled the rose scent of her hair. Even though she might not be the smallest, I could lift her up effortlessly and I loved reminding her of that. I could think of another few ways of throwing you around darlin’.

“You’re back,” she said softly.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here darlin’,” I smiled. She removed her face from my neck and looked at me. She looked even prettier than I remember. I had no idea that was even possible. Don’t get mushy man, damn.

“Welcome home you big idiot,” she grinned at me, and I put her back down on her feet. Uh, not even back for a minute and she’s already teasing me.

“Oh, that’s how ya welcome me back home?” She walked past me and started laughing. She picked up one of the lawn chairs.

“I could also have started by saying you should trim your beard. It looks like shit right now,” she mocked as she walked past me. I placed my hand on my heart, pretending she’d hurt me.

Shaking my head, I picked up the other lawn chair and followed close behind her. She looked good, really good. The jeans she wore hugged her in all the right places. She placed the lawn chair down and looked at me. My eyes immediately left her behind, and I placed the lawn chair I was carrying down as well. She better not be standing with her ass towards me again, or I will smack it.

“Ya know, being disrespectful in the army can get ya in a lot of trouble,” I said and grabbed a beer for her. I handed it to her, our hands lightly touching. Quickly, I grabbed my own beer from the table.

“Really? You’re going to punish me then?” The sunlight caught her face, making her look like an angel. She tried not so smile, but the glistering in her eyes gave her away.

“Who knows.” I chugged the rest of my beer and cocked my eyebrow. I know a few ways I’d like to punish ya darlin’.

Before our conversation could continue, the door to the terrace busted open, and Shane and Benjamin stepped outside. Cheering loudly, chanting my name. They walked over to me and threw their arms around me. They tried to tackle me, but even though they were strong, I was the strongest one of the group. Tim joined us, and they let me go so we could talk.

“Welcome back man,” Benjamin said and slapped me on my back. “We missed ya.”

“I understand, my presence is gift. Y’all should be glad I’m back,” I declared.

“Whatever Sy. Don’t get too cocky,” Tim said, he stood beside me and lifted his arm to smack me on the back of my head. I simply shot him a look, and his arm fell down next to his body again. I chuckled, and from the corner of my eye I saw Holly and Brianna had also arrived. I liked the girls, they were nice and sweet, but most of all good friends.

“Sy! Aren’t you going to say hello to us or what?” Holly shouted. I walked over to them, the other men following close behind.

“Hi girls,” I said and opened my arms for them. I gave them a hug, and everyone started asking me questions. I tried to answer them, when suddenly Brianna yelled.

“Stop! Everyone, stop talking for a minute!” she shouted. “Since Holly and I were a bit late, we missed the famous welcome back hug between Sy and Kathy.” Might have been a reason I was here early.

“I was there,” Tim laughed. “Maybe you should’ve known they would both be here early.”

“We were planning on being early, but sweet Holly over here was being incredible slow,” Brianna said, and I noticed how she looked at Holly like she would kill her. Soon the look turned into a smile nonetheless. Thank you, Holly.

“I think they should do it again,” Holly grinned. I had to try not to grin too much. Being close to her, felt so good. I would love nothing more than to hug her more often, or to cuddle up on the couch together. The chances of that happening, were very slim, and my heart sunk a little in my chest.

“I think they should too, apparently we all, except Tim, missed the highlight of Sy’s return. We should not be robbed of that moment,” Shane agreed, and a smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, come on guys!” Kat said. “The man has just gotten home! Give him a break.” Her comment made them cheer even louder. Doesn’t she want me to hug her again? Well, that’s not my problem ‘cause I’d hug her anytime if it were up to me.

“C’mere darlin’. Let’s give the audience what they want.” I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around her. I could smell her perfume, and I didn’t know what kind of scent it was, it just smelled like her. It smelled like home.

Every time I hugged her, there was just one thing I was afraid of. That I would not let her go again, because that’s where she belonged. She belonged in my arms, and I wished she would realize that one day. But I had to let her go again. Shane immediately wrapped an arm around her, while everyone cheered. Soon I noticed someone had put on some music.

“Hey guys, who wants to eat?” Tim shouted. I’m starving but not for that kind of meat.

“Better give me a sausage, I’m in the mood for some meat,” Holly answered with a mischievous grin. She was a sweet girl, always joking around, but don’t you dare mess with her. Don’t you dare mess with Brianna or Kat either, they will make you regret it. I liked that about them, that they were strong women.

An hour later we had finished eating, and we sat around the firepit in Tim’s garden. The sun long gone, the moon and stars providing us some light. The last hour I had mostly asked them how they’ve been, and it did me good to hear everything was going well. Tim’s construction company, where Shane and Benjamin also worked, was doing great. They were happy I would soon be joining them again. Holly’s clothing store has made a big profit in the last month.

I was happy to hear that Kat and Brianna started their own interior design business after the company they worked for went bankrupt. Kat’s eyes lit up when she spoke about it, and I loved seeing her with this passion.

After they were done talking about what they’ve been up to, it was my turn. I told them quickly a few things I could tell them. That I wanted to tell them. Thankfully, none of them asked anymore questions. They knew I preferred to not talk about it.

“Sy, a toast to you!” Benjamin said, and raised his glass. “Welcome home man.” Me and everyone else raised their glasses as well.

“Thanks Ben, it’s good to be back. And I’d like to thank y’all for writing me those letters. They mean a lot to me,” I said. It was true, getting letters while being far away from home, is the best feeling ever. Especially her letters, she had written me long letters, talking about the little things in life. She’d wrote about the weather or an awful client at work. She would just write about her day-to-day life, like she would if I were there. I had kept every single one of her letters, safely stored away in a box that was now underneath my bed.

“Well, next time you could try and write longer ones back you know,” Kat spoke. “I have put so much effort into my pages long letters, and all I get back is a paragraph from you just thanking me.” She pouted, and looked incredible cute, but started laughing. “Nah, just kidding. We know it means a lot, so we’re happy to write them.” She gave me a smile, and I wished she sat closer to me. Instead, she sat across the firepit from me.

“Don’t be funny darlin’. Might not answer yours next time,” I joked.

“Like you would ignore her Sy,” Shane mocked. Shut up Shane. Everyone but her started laughing. Oh no, what is she thinking? Kat looked confused, and I knew she wanted Shane’s comment to be explained. Thankfully, Holly started telling a story about a client in her store, so the moment to address the comment was over. Thank god.

Soon, the fire went out and that was the universal sign for us to go home. We stood up, and started helping Tim clean the plates, cups, and cutlery. I looked at Kat, I liked watching her move. The way her hips swayed when she walked, was one of my favourite parts about her.

“Guys, why don’t you all just go home. I’ll help Tim clean up the rest!” Brianna suggested. I chuckled. Smooth Brianna. I had known for a while she had a thing for Tim, and I knew he felt the same. We all laughed and agreed with her plan. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin walked home together since they lived close to each other. Kat and I had to go the other way.

“I’ll walk you home darlin’,” I said to Kat, and she nodded in response.

“I’m going to grab my cardigan from inside, and then I’m ready to go,” she added, and quickly walked inside. I noticed the lawn chairs still had to be carried back to the shed, so I lifted two up and walked to the end of the garden. I heard the others talk behind me, almost whispering, but I didn’t pay any attention to it.

When I came back, the conversation between them stopped immediately. What were they talking about?

We said goodbye to each other, leaving Tim and Brianna behind. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin went to the left, while me and Kat started walking to the right. It was nice, to be alone with her. Calmness washed over me, while at the same time a fire inside me burned.

During our little walk, we talked. I wanted to know everything about her business, and she happily answered my questions. I watched her from the corner of my eye, when she talked, she uses her hands to gesture around, and it was an adorable sight.

Way too soon we reached her house. We stopped in front of it, and we fell silent. The moon provided a little light, bringing out the beautiful features of her face. I wanted to cup her cheeks and kiss her. Sy, dude, get yourself together. She is a friend. A. friend. You don’t kiss friends like that. Right?

“Alright, well, it is so nice to have you back Sy,” Kat said.

“It is nice to be back here,” I smiled. We fell silent again.

“I should go inside,” she spoke softly, and opened her arms for a hug. I could also go inside with you.

I let out a hum and wrapped my arms around her thick waist. I squeezed her tight, and she nuzzled her face in my neck. I loved it that she wasn’t fragile, and that I could just hug her like I wanted to.

We broke up the hug. I did not let her go yet, I wanted to kiss those soft lips so bad, but I settled for kissing her cheek instead. I hoped she did not hear my heart beating fast, or my sinful thoughts. She let out a little whimper, and I knew I had to let her go before I would drag her into her bedroom.

“Goodnight darlin’,” I said and winked. Shit, forgot I can’t wink.

“Goodnight captain,” she said and laughed at my attempt to wink. I shook my head and took a few steps backwards. I watched her go inside and waved before she closed the door.

I turned around and starting walking to my parents’ house. A few years ago, we had built a cabin at the end of our property. While I was serving, I lived there at the times I was back home. I was now back for good, but I still had to tell Kat, and my friends. It was time to come home, I was ready. I was ready to settle down. With her preferably, but I knew that would never happen.

I sighed, and dropped my head. Why won’t she notice me the way I notice her?

•••

> chapter two

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[canislupus-exe]

Made for Each Other | eddie munson

>>gif credit to @/rpvisualosities<<

fandom | Stanger Things

character | Eddie Munson

reader | she/her/afab (he/him/amab ver.)

requested | anonymous

warnings | smut/nsfw, mutual perversion, peeping, mild degradation

word count | 1,804

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | can u maybe do an eddie munson smut where the reader catches him masturbating to a polaroid of her and then the reader fucks him 👉👈

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

You sighed as you checked your watch, the time read 9:17. The day had been surprisingly slow so you decided to hang out with your best friend, but found his company had barely changed that fact. You’d burned through two movies with him and were going to start a third when he suddenly realized something and bolted out of the room. 

That was a few minutes ago and now you were waiting for his return, sprawled out on his bed. You yawned and laid your head against the pillow. Nothing happened until finally, you heard the bedroom door open. You lifted your torso and leaned on your elbows, raising your eyebrows at him. A bright flash caused you to blink rapidly and groan.

“Dude, what the hell?” You asked, sitting up fully and rubbing your eyes. You could hear Eddie laugh before feeling the bed shift as he sat next to you.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” He asks. You stop rubbing your eyes and look at what’s in his hand. It’s a Polaroid picture of yourself. Your shirt is slightly lifted and your pajama bottoms are slightly misplaced, revealing a small bit of your hip area. Your eyelids are slightly drooped, making you look sleepy and even somewhat sultry.

“When did you get a Polaroid?” You asked.

“I found it at the thrift store just outside of town. I seriously couldn’t believe my luck. It was a little busted right here, see, but nothing some duct tape couldn’t fix.” He raved, showing you all parts of the camera. You smiled fondly.

“That’s awesome Eddie.” You say, handing him the picture. He looks at it for a couple of seconds before looking back up at you.

“You don’t want to keep this?” He asks. You shake your head.

“Nah, what purpose do I have for a picture of myself?”

“Wouldn’t I have even less of a purpose for a picture of you?” He asks with a laugh. You shrug and smile.

“I don’t know. Use it to remember me or if you miss me.” You say with a snicker.

“That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard,” Eddie replied. You laughed before standing up from the bed.

“I should probably go home now Eddie. It’s getting late and we have school tomorrow.” You say, grabbing your car keys from his nightstand. 

“Already?” He asks a twinge of sadness in his voice. You smile.

“I’ll be back, probably sooner than you even realize. Thanks for letting me hang and keep you company though.” You said. He nodded and stood from the bed, walking you toward his front door.

You said bye and locked up his door, hopping in your car and starting it up. Your house wasn’t too far from the trailer park, which you were thankful for. It made your visits to his place that much more convenient. You whistled to the song on the radio, mindlessly tapping your steering wheel while focusing on the road.

As you pulled up to a crossroad to take a right turn, you realized how cold you were. You always kept your windows rolled down when you drove but it was much chillier than usual. You were about to turn when it dawned on you that you left your jacket at Eddie’s house. No wonder I’m freezing, you think to yourself as you pop a quick U-turn and backtrack to the trailer park.

It doesn’t take long since you didn’t get very far. In a matter of six minutes, you’re putting your car back in park in Eddie’s driveway. You toss your keys in your jean pocket, knocking on his door. There’s no answer, and you can’t help but assume he’d fallen asleep. Normally, you wouldn’t intrude, but the freezing Indiana temperatures urged you to use the spare key he’d gifted you years ago. Just for emergencies, he told you, and if you stayed out there any longer without a protective layer you’d freeze your tits off, which was as close to an emergency as you could damn near get.

You opened the door and shut it quietly behind you, not wanting to wake him up. You quickly scanned the living room, searching for your jacket. It was nowhere to be found but you didn’t fret, you probably just left it in Eddie’s room. You walked toward his bedroom door, seconds away from pushing it open when you heard a noise.

Not just any noise, though. A very distinct type of noise that caused your feet to stay planted on the floor and your stomach to meet them there. It was a moan. A moan that no doubt belonged to your best friend. Your heart began to thump louder than it ever has but you tried to drown it out, listening for another noise to prove you weren’t going crazy. 

And there it was again. A whiny, high-pitched moan that sent tingles down your spine and blood rushing to your crotch. You clasped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to regulate your breathing, scared you’d make a noise and alert him that you were here. Which you should’ve done, you knew that. You knew how wrong it was to listen to someone get off, but you couldn’t move your feet.

And to make matters worse, your eyes found themselves drawn to the crack in the door. You weren’t just listening now, you were full-on peeping on your best friend jacking off, and God was it making you wet.

The sliver in the door was small but if you angled yourself just right you could see enough. His right hand rapidly moved up and down his shaft while his left held a picture that looked almost familiar. Further up you could see his shirt lifted and his left hand holding a piece of clothing to his nose, which he was no doubt sniffing with fervor. The item of clothing was also familiar. It almost looked like…

“(Y/n)~” Eddie whined breathlessly, and the air around you seemed to turn cold. That couldn’t have possibly been…

“Fuck- (Y/n)…” He moaned again, and you were sure of it this time. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, moaning your name. That wasn’t the only thing he was doing. As he continued to furiously pump his shaft with his fist you realized why everything looked so familiar. He was holding the Polaroid he took of you earlier and sniffing your jacket. Eddie was masturbating to the thought of you.

“God p-please I need you~” He moaned, panting heavily. You got so warm in the face and so fuzzy in the brain that you acted without thinking. You pushed the bedroom door open and walked in, causing him to yelp and throw everything off of him. He scrambled to pull a blanket over himself to salvage a shred of his modesty but you’d already seen too much.

“Don’t stop on my account sweetheart. In fact, let me help you~” You say, popping the button of your jeans. His face turns bright red, staring at you in utter disbelief.

“(Y-Y/n) I can explain-“

“Explain what? That you were jacking off to a picture of me? Mmm, what did you imagine we were doing Eddie?” You asked, pulling the blanket off as you licked your lips. 

“I-I wasn’t-“

“Come on Eddie~ You can tell me. If you ask nicely, I might even do it to you~” You whisper in his ear, gently placing your hand around his already twitching cock. He gasps and whimpers, covering his mouth to stop the needy noises from spilling out.

“You were so loud before, what happened to ‘I need you’?” You asked, moving your hand up and down his shaft. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lowered his hands, babbling for a second as he presumably tried to find the right words.

“I was i-imagining you- ah- riding me into- hng- oblivion.” He gasped out, balling his hands into the sheets. You smirked, pulling your hand away and watching him practically chase your touch.

“That can be arranged.” You reply, pulling your pants and panties off all the way. He watched with wide eyes as your soaked pussy was revealed, dripping with arousal and making his mouth water. He watched you bend and spit on his cock, gasping at the sudden cold sensation. You rubbed it down the shaft, expertly lubing him up in seconds and causing him to turn to putty once again.

Once you were finished prepping him, you positioned your entrance over his hard cock, teasing by gently prodding it. He whined, staring at you with pleading eyes. You decided to take mercy on him and finally sink down, groaning as he filled you up. He bit his lip harshly and squeezed his eyes shut, overcome with the pleasure of being inside you.

“Look at you, you filthy little pervert. Getting fucked by the girl you were jacking off to.” You practically growled at him, an irregular dominance clouding your mind. He moaned and covered his face, too embarrassed to look you in the eyes.

“Maybe we’re made for each other though.” You say somewhat fondly as you pick up your pace. He moans, face still covered, but he manages to get out two words of inquiry.

“W-We are?” He asks meekly. You laugh almost sadistically as you rest your hands on his stomach.

“We are… wanna know why?” You ask, slowing your hips just the slightest bit to grab his focus.

“Why?” He asks breathlessly.

“Because I’m a pervert too Eddie. I watched you jack off to me. I liked watching you jack off to me.” You say, giving him no time to process what you’ve said before starting to bounce vigorously on him again. This practically sends him over the edge, whimpering and begging to cum as you intensely rode him like never before. He grabs your hips and begins moaning frantically

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m- agghn!” He gasps for air and digs his nails into your skin, body shaking as spurts of cum shoot from the head of his cock and nestles deep inside your pussy. The sounds he’s making and the feeling of him releasing inside you proves to be too much as your hips sputter and you let out a loud moan, shaking as your own orgasm so intense takes over your body and leaves you trembling.

You gasp in an attempt to regain your breath, Eddie still latched onto you like his life depends on it. You chuckle and let your body weight fall onto him, electing to clean yourselves up later. You do however decide to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek at the moment, and you’re glad you do when you see his flushed face fondly smile.

[missymurphy1985]

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

[drabbles-mc]

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust​:  Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​​ @lexondeck​​​

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

--

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

--

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

--

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

[ssahoodrathotchner]

There is a Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get kidnapped by an unsub and needless to say, it’s not fun

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: swearing, blood, injuries, stabbing, panic attacks, kidnapping, hospitals, angst and fluff

A/N: wanted to write something angsty with a happy ending and here we are! the longest thing i’ve ever written

Masterlist

---

In hindsight, things could have gone better. The case itself was pretty straightforward, with the biggest complication being where the hell Michael Robertson was hidden away. However, no man can hide from Penelope Garcia and within six hours of figuring out Robertson was the unsub, she had his location narrowed down to a small farm in the middle of nowhere. Of course, you thought, where else would a guy like him torture and kill seven women.

Pulling up to the seemingly small farmhouse, you and Reid exchange looks before tightening your bulletproof vests. Double—triple—checking your gun, you tune in to Hotch and Rossi giving directions to the team and local PD about breaching the home. Hotch and Prentiss will take the front door, Morgan and Reid the back, while Rossi and JJ have the barn—you’ll take the side door and meet in the middle, easy. Local PD will secure the perimeter and provide backup as needed. Giving Hotch a reaffirming nod, you disperse to your entry points.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your weapon and prepare to bust this door down in hopes that Robertson will surrender peacefully and you can all go home because fuck do you want to get out of Iowa. Hearing Hotch’s signal, you kick down the door in front of you—a welcome plus of your job—and announce your presence. However, you’re met with a hard elbow to the face. Reeling backwards and tasting blood, you only have the sense to cup your now bleeding—and most likely broken—nose with your free hand.

“Motherfucker,” you spit out in pain, the comms in your vest picking up your voice.

“Y/L/N, report,” Hotch demands, voice scratchy through your earpiece.

However, you are unable to respond as Robertson moves towards you and, taking advantage of your dazed state, hits you over the head with a fucking two-by-four once, twice, nope three times before the jagged wood floor is rushing up to meet you as you collapse into darkness. Oh, fuck. You’re out before you hit the ground.

---

As soon as Aaron hears you swear, he knows it’s bad, but one look at Emily has him forging ahead and clearing each room like he is supposed to. Checking in with the other duos, Hotch can’t help but worry when you don’t respond immediately. When he finally gets to the mid-point of the house and the exact spot where you were supposed to rendezvous with him, Emily, Derek, and Spencer, his worries spike exponentially.

“Where’s Y/L/N,” he spits out.

“We didn’t see her,” Morgan answers carefully. “We assumed she found you guys,” he adds, and Hotch grits his teeth.

“Clear in the barn,” he hears Rossi report, and he sighs.

“Y/L/N is missing,” he says, surprisingly calm. “Report to the house.”

Police officers shuffle through the house, and Aaron tries not to let his irritation show. Turning back to the team, he can’t help but notice how worried the rest of them are.

“Our one and only priority is finding Y/N,” he states.

“I’ll get Garcia onboard to coordinate what happens next,” Morgan says, excusing himself from the tension of the farm house sitting room. “Expect some very distressed calls in your futures,” he finishes with a shake of his head.

“Emily and I will re-check the rest of the house, just in case,” JJ supplies, and Hotch nods. Reid, looking uneasy, makes some excuse about double-checking the floor plans of the property before skirting out the door, leaving Dave and Aaron—and some police officers—to survey the bland artwork on the walls.

Grasping the bridge of his nose, Aaron tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t; not with you missing on the property owned by an unsub fucking known for mutilating women.

“Hey,” Rossi approaches from Hotch’s left. “We’ll figure this out. Y/L/N’s a smart girl; she won’t go down easy,”

Hotch can only hope that Rossi’s right, but he trusts you; trusts your instincts as an agent.

---

You come to in bits and pieces. Some part of your brain recognizes that you’re being dragged by your armpits down some rickety stairs and deep into the earth; another part recognizes that your hands are free, which means your gun is no longer in your grasp. Fuck fuck fuck. A particularly harsh blow to your head from the hands of your captor stops any further thoughts. Fuck you, Robertson.

---

Regrouping with the team outside the house, Hotch starts to get agitated.

“What do you mean there’s an elaborate tunnel system beneath the house, Garcia,” he almost yells. “How did you not catch this before.”

“Well,” Reid steps in, “the only plans that include this system are dated between 1910 and 1924 which means that they were built in at least the 1900s and the fact that they do not appear in any property plans since those dates suggests that the subsequent owners either didn’t know about the tunnels, or they actively chose to not include them for some reason which—”

“—which means that we don’t really have a clue as to what the current tunnels look like,” Morgan finishes for him, and Hotch internally blanches.

No, he thinks to himself. I will not lose her like this, not after Haley.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch tries to re-assess the situation, but finds himself unable to breathe deeply. At all. Gasping, he tries to communicate to the team the severity of their situation, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. Vaguely, he hears Morgan clear the room as JJ gently takes his upper arm and steers him out the back door of the house on to the porch.

“Hotch,” he can’t stand to listen to her voice; her calm demeanor only increasing his anxiety about your current situation.

“Hotch,” JJ tries again, harsher this time. “I need you to take a breath; only one, just now, that’s it.”

I can do that, he thinks. And he does; he takes one solitary breath.

“Good,” she encourages, “now do it again, just once.” And so he does, again, and again, for JJ.

Once his breathing is under control and JJ steps back with an appraising eye, he speaks.

“We need to find her,” he gasps out. “We have to; I can’t—” he trails off.

With a softness he has yet to comprehend, JJ looks into his eyes and sighs.

“We’ll find her, Hotch,” she reassures him. “She’s on the property, she has to be, and we’ll find her.”

With a shaky nod, Hotch allows JJ’s words to take hold of him, and he goes back to being the BAU’s Unit Chief. Gazing out on the field behind the house, his resolve is firm; Aaron Hotchner will find you, Michael Robertson be damned.

---

The next moment you remember—thanks broken nose and probable concussion—is your body being roughly thrown into a plastic chair, sans bullet-proof vest, and then your arms and legs being tightly tied down. A rag of some sort is crudely stuffed into your mouth, and you can’t help but gag because fuck does it do nothing to replace the gross taste of blood in your mouth. At least it’s me, you think to yourself, I’d hate to think of anyone else from the team in this position. And with that thought, you drift out of consciousness with Aaron’s face in the forefront of your addled mind. Love, I hope you find me soon.

---

It’s been three hours and Aaron Hotchner is losing his mind. Garcia, to her credit, is working furiously to uncover literally everything she can on Robertson, his family, friends as well as the closest neighboring farms to the one the BAU is currently ripping apart. Prentiss and Morgan have taken to meticulously going through each and every room of the house and barn in hopes of discovering some new and hidden passageway to the tunnel system that resides under the structure. Reid is creating an enhanced geographical profile of the property and those that encompass it, while JJ and Rossi discuss the nuances of Robertson’s profile somewhere with the local cops. Aaron, however, can only seem to scowl at the field of corn behind the house and remember the last moments he had with you before you disappeared.

“Hotch,” he turns when he hears Morgan’s voice. “We’ve got something.”

Heart racing, Hotch nods and follows Morgan out the side door—the one you entered—before stopping just short of the man in front of him.

“Local crime scene techs just confirmed that there’s blood here, and judging from the placement of the drops, it seems that Robertson got the drop on Y/L/N,” he states with a grimace, and Hotch can’t help but scrutinize the ground where your blood has fallen.

“Reid’s got a better handle on what might have happened, but I thought you’d like to see it for yourself,” Morgan finishes, and Hotch nods tightly before moving off in search of Reid. Finding the young profiler in the front room of the farm house, Hotch only has to look at him before he’s revealing all that he’s learned since your disappearance.

“It seems that the blueprints for the house were updated once since the 1920s, which was in 1953, so that’s our most recent map of what the whole underside of the property looks like,” Reid continues. “From what I can tell, there are at least five entrance points, three main walkways, and eight different chambers that appear to function as some form of bunker for the previous owners, and so my guess is that Y/N is being kept in one of the rooms, just like the previous victims most likely were,” Reid pauses. “Not that Y/N will become another victim, I’m just saying that for the sake of the case it appears that—” Emily enters the room and Hotch has never been so grateful for her presence in a room, ever.

“Hey, I don’t mean to disrupt Reid’s briefing, but local PD has found a possible way into the fuckin’ labyrinth out in the barn,” she states, curiously looking over at the map Reid has scribbled onto the property blueprints.

Turning his head sharply, Hotch nods at Prentiss and uncrosses his arms as she leads him out of the farm house as Reid continues to ponder the blueprints in front of him.

---

The next time you rise to consciousness, Robertson is dragging an ugly hunting knife across your collarbones, shoulder to shoulder, and cooing at you to wake up. Weirdo.

“Ah, there you are baby,” Robertson says sweetly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up for me.”

You let out a groan and through the gag in your mouth—holy fuck does it taste like dirty socks—you attempt to cuss out your captor.

“Now, now, Sweetness,” Robertson chides. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” and with that terrifying statement, he leans closer to you and pulls the knife across your left shoulder, effectively slicing open your work shirt. Damn, you think to yourself, this was actually one of my favorites. But that’s the last coherent thought you produce because the combination of Robertson’s knife, the searing pain of your broken nose, and your own possibly concussed brain are unable to completely comprehend any more information as the man in question leaves light slices across your upper chest. Thankfully, the rag—sock? —in your mouth muffles your whimpers as you jolt in pain. Aaron, please find me soon you think before the feeling is all-encompassing and your mind shifts to merciful blankness.

---

“I wish I could do more,” Garcia states, but Hotch can only sigh in agreement.

“You’ve done well, Garcia. Let me know if you find anything else,” Hotch states, eyes darting over to the geographical profile Reid is standing in front of, conversing with Emily. The tunnel found by local PD had been a decoy, and they were no closer to finding you.

“Of course, Sir. I’m on it like Sergio on tuna. Garcia out,” and with that statement, the line goes dead.

Putting his phone in his pocket, Hotch walks towards Reid and Prentiss with purpose.

“Reid, have you found anything else about the tunnel system?”

“It appears that there are a series of false entrances that don’t actually connect with the full network of passageways,” Reid states gesturing wildly at the map. “The full system can only be accessed from four different vantage points, but given that this map hasn’t been updated since the 50s, I only have a general idea of where the entryways are given that the buildings on the property have shifted since the last accurate map was compiled.”

“The good news is that two of the entrances seem to be contained within this house, the bad news is that they may have been bricked over by renovations to the building,” Prentiss says with a grimace. “The other two entries are somewhere out in what’s now the fields, so we’ll have less luck finding them, even with all the extra help from the PD.”

Hotch’s shoulders sag under the weight of the new information and he frowns at the agents in front of him. Squinting hard at the blueprints haphazardly tacked to the board in front of him, Hotch tries to make sense of the possible entry points in the house he’s currently standing in.

“Get Morgan in here,” Hotch finally says. “He’s got experience with restoration work and may have a better idea on where the unsub could have taken Y/N from within the house given the structural changes.” And with that, Hotch strides out the front door of the house and leans on the porch railing. Y/N, I’m coming for you, just hold on a little longer.

---

Robertson is a bitch. And he has the knife to prove it.

“So, you’re impotent, that’s why you’re using such a big knife, right?” you taunt him after who knows how fuckin’ long. “You see, we thought you had, mmm, issues, but we didn’t know for sure; this just confirms it.”

He took the gag out of your mouth to hear you scream, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing so. However, instead of responding to your jabs, Robertson just drives the knife a little bit deeper into your torso and you let out a hiss in retaliation, throwing your head back.

“God, you sure know how to treat a girl, don’t ya?” you grit out between pained breaths. “No wonder a charmer like you had so many lady friends.”

“They didn’t appreciate me!” Robertson yells. “Just like you don’t appreciate me!”

The next slash glances off your ribs and yikes does it fuckin’ hurt. Jerking away as best you can, you contemplate your options. At this point, you know your only way out is to either escape—as if—or to make Robertson see some semblance of reason. Otherwise, you aren’t going to make it out of here alive. Fuck, you think, I’m so sorry, Aaron. I promise I’ll find you. Or you’ll find me. A particularly vicious cut to your cheekbone draws you back to reality, and once again, you are only able to focus on the pain and Robertson’s maniacal laughter. Creepy motherfucker.

---

Hotch has never seen Morgan so focused. Scouring the blueprints with Reid and Prentiss, Garcia on speakerphone, Morgan works to figure out where the hell Robertson could have disappeared to inside the house. With you. Hotch has taken to pacing the length of the house in order to keep his nerves and his temper somewhat under control; he needs to be alert and ready to get to you as soon as possible. Running a hand through his hair and over his face, Hotch sighs which draws the attention of Rossi and JJ who slowly drift over to him from their place by a window.

“Hotch—” JJ starts but is cut off by a hard look.

“We’ll find her, Aaron.” Rossi tries. “You know that she’s here somewhere, probably giving Robertson all sorts of hell.”

“We’ve seen what Robertson does to his victims, Dave,” Hotch retorts. “He basically slices women to pieces and beats them,” taking a breath, he tries to calm himself. “We need to find her alive,” he finishes softly.

JJ and Rossi share a concerned look before Rossi sighs and steps forward to place a hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her. There’s no way—” he’s cut off by an excited yell and the three of them swing around towards the source of the noise which happens to be Prentiss.

Morgan’s already moving, stalking into another room and Reid, accompanied by Garcia on the phone, hurries to catch up.

“We found the door Robertson most likely used to take Y/L/N and we’re pretty sure it connects to the full system under the property,” Prentiss explains and that’s all it takes for Hotch to stride off after Morgan and Reid.

Head spinning, Aaron fluctuates between hope and hopelessness. He knows they’ll find you; Robertson can’t hide in the tunnel system, no matter how well he knows them, but he’s most worried about you. We’re coming for you, Y/N. I won’t let this bastard get away with this.

---

Your whole body fucking hurts and you’re pretty sure it’s not just because you started off your captivity with a broken nose and concussion. Your mouth tastes like blood again from how hard you’ve clamped down on your bottom lip to resist screaming as loud as you can. Robertson is cruel, there’s no question about that. You’d seen the photos of his other victims, and now you were undergoing the same things those women did in their last moments. Your entire body feels heavy, and if you weren’t tied down to a chair, you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself up. Between the blood loss and head trauma, you’re surprised your thoughts are still relatively coherent.

Robertson is pacing in front of you, muttering to himself, shooting looks your way, and absentmindedly gesturing with the knife in his hand. Fantastic, you think hazily, he’s most likely devolving and I’m the only one around. Yay. Sucking in a breath, you wince as the action reignites a dizzying pain in your torso. Letting out a groan, you flinch as Robertson turns towards you, eyes shining with something that makes your heart race a little quicker. 


“Now, baby,” he states with a twisted grin—grimace? —that makes you grit your teeth even harder. “I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry. I still wanna hear you scream for me.”

Here we go again.

“Do your worst,” you snarl at him, and while that’s probably the worst thing to say to a devolving unsub, you’re too fed up and tired to care at this point; you can take it, you have to take it so you can survive. C’mon, Aaron. Where’s my knight in shining armor? Robertson descends on you with renewed vigor, and after the fourth slice to your leg, your ears rush and your head drops to your chest as you pass out. Fuck.

---

The trap door Robertson dragged you down can only be accessed by sliding one of the wooden floorboards back half an inch before it clicks into place and the adjoining boards lift slightly, revealing the way into the tunnels. How Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss figured that out is beyond Hotch’s current thought process because how many times had he paced over that exact spot? As soon as the hatch is lifted, all he sees is blood—your blood—sprinkled on the steps that descend into the darkened passageway. He takes a sharp breath and somewhere behind him, he can hear JJ gasp and Morgan swear.

“Medics are on stand-by,” comes Rossi’s voice from his shoulder.

Nodding tersely and setting his shoulders, he turns to the team.

“Stay alert and stick together. We don’t know where Robertson is, so clear the rooms and move on.” His voice is hard and leaves no room for debate.

“Let’s go get our girl,” Morgan adds, and with that, the team takes careful steps down into the hallway, following Aaron.

---

The first room they happen across is empty, as are the second, third, and fourth rooms. Forging ahead, knowing that they’re only closer to where you are, they continue. Turning a corner, Hotch can hear movement and his heart speeds up. Robertson. Signaling to the team to pause, he gauges the best course of action. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, or Robertson for that matter, and so he has to approach the situation with caution. Gun in hand and stepping to one side of the door, he lets Morgan and Prentiss move to the other. Backed by JJ, Reid, and Rossi, Hotch nods and Morgan kicks down the door before moving quickly inside, yelling at Robertson. Prentiss follows him and then Hotch steps through and freezes.

Robertson is crouched over your crumpled and bloody body looking wild-eyed at the agents in front of him. Hotch can’t breathe. You aren’t moving.

“She’s mine,” Robertson snarls, brandishing a knife at Morgan as he tries to get closer. “Mine!”

“Okay, Michael,” says Rossi calmly, “Let’s figure this out.”

“No. She’s mine! I’m not done,” Robertson’s reply is harsh, bordering on a yell.

“What do you mean you aren’t done, Michael?” Hotch’s voice is cold and flat. What more could Robertson possibly want?

“She didn’t scream! I need her to scream for me!” and with that, Robertson runs the tip of his blade down your already bloody cheek.

The team is stunned, but then Robertson raises the knife in the air over your chest and—

He falls.

Looking slowly to the right, Hotch sees Prentiss, gun raised, and then to Robertson splayed on the ground, blood pooling under his head. Vaguely, Hotch hears Reid calling for medics and alerting the local officers to what just happened. Morgan’s already at your side, turning you slowly, carefully, gently on to your back, and that’s when Hotch rushes to you, gun holstered.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. There’s blood everywhere. Aaron can’t tell if you’re breathing. He chokes back a sob. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.

“Hotch, she’s alive,” Morgan breathes, and with that, Hotch lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself to fully look at you, blinking a few times to rid his eyes of tears.

Your face is littered with shallow cuts. Your nose is bloody—definitely broken—and there’s already bruising around your eyes. Your shirt is torn and bloodied in so many places, as are your pants. He can see blood leaking slowly multiple places on your thighs, and even more from your arms and midsection. Your eyes are closed.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Hotch presses down on one of the lacerations to your torso, Morgan taking another, and JJ appearing to apply pressure on a cut that’s just a little too close to your femoral artery.

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” his voice shakes. “I need you to open your eyes, Y/N. Have to know you’re okay.”

There’s yelling from down the hallway, medics bustling into the room and taking over. Aaron can’t make himself let go of you, and it takes Rossi’s gentle but firm hand to guide him back and away from you. He can’t stop shaking.

---

You wake, briefly, when you feel yourself being lifted. Squinting, you try to turn your head, as the rest of the world comes crashing back in a wave of sound and movement. Vision blurred, you try and make sense of what’s going on around you.

“She’s awake!” calls a voice from your left, and you can make out the outline of… JJ? They’re here.

You’re shifted around more, and you get the idea that you’re being strapped down to a gurney as medics begin to wheel you out of the hellhole where Robertson held you.

Suddenly, there’s a hand grasping yours, and before your mind can comprehend what’s happening, all you hear is—

“Sweetheart…?” in the most relieved, reverent, adoring, tone you think you’ve ever heard in your life and it’s Aaron holding your hand. He’s here he’s here he’s here. He found me.

“Aaron,” his name leaves you in a sigh. “Y’found me,” you say softly, looking him over.

“Of course, I did, Sweetheart,” he says, just as soft.

“Where’s…?” you don’t want to say his name.

“Dead. Emily shot him,” Aaron answers in a low voice. Good fucking riddance.

You hum and ease back as the gurney jostles you particularly hard. Gritting your teeth, you groan as you head starts to pound even harder. Feeling yourself losing consciousness, you squeeze Aaron’s hand.

“Love you,” and before he can respond, you vision goes black and all is quiet once more.

---

After you get loaded into the nearest ambulance and speed towards the hospital, Rossi confirms that local officers have secured the scene. With not a moment to waste, the team takes off after the ambulance. Morgan calls Garcia to update her on your status and spends a majority of the ride to the hospital convincing her that she doesn’t need to fly over to see you. Hotch stares blankly out the window and replays the entire interaction with Robertson. He saw the damage Robertson did to you—I need her to scream—and can’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the fact that you didn’t give in to Robertson despite the obvious pain you endured.

The SUVs pull up to the hospital, screeching to a halt, before all the doors are thrown open and the team hurries into the lobby. The nurse at the desk looks up to find six disheveled agents crowding around the counter, worry across all of their faces.

“We’re here for Agent Y/L/N, she probably arrived twenty minutes ago,” Hotch states, voice surprisingly calm.

“I can confirm she arrived and that she’s currently being attended to, but I don’t know any more than that at this moment,” the nurse replies, looking at the computer screen.

“Do you know if she’ll be okay?” asks Spencer in a subdued voice.

“The severity of her injuries is yet to be determined, I’m afraid. She has obvious head trauma, numerous lacerations, and possible internal bleeding, but until I get another update, that’s all I can share,” the nurse says with a sad smile.

Nodding, Aaron steps away from the counter. C’mon, Sweetheart.

“Thank you,” comes Rossi’s voice from Hotch’s left, and with that, the team migrates to the largest cluster of chairs where they promptly collapse in exhaustion.

Sitting down heavily, Hotch rests his elbows on his knees and runs a hand over his face. Prentiss drops in to the chair on his left, Rossi settles in on his right. Across from them, Reid and JJ sit on either side of Morgan. Looking down at his hands, Aaron realizes that they still have your blood on them. He glares at them, somehow wishing that if he stares hard enough, it’ll vanish on its own. A hand closes around one of his, and he looks at Emily.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says softly, then, louder, “You guys too, Morgan and JJ. Let’s go.”

It’s then that Aaron looks—really looks—and sees that like him, Morgan and JJ have your blood on their hands as well. With a nod, they all stand. Morgan and Hotch walking into the men’s room while Emily follows JJ to keep her company. Mechanically, the two men stand side-by-side and turn on the taps, starting the slow process of washing away the blood that’s dried on them. Glancing to the side, Hotch sees Morgan, brow furrowed in concentration, as he scrubs under his nails.

“Thank you,” he says, stopping his own motions to fully look at Derek, who turns at the sound of his voice.

“For what?” Morgan asks, slightly confused.

“For going over the blueprints with Reid, Prentiss, and Garcia. For figuring out where in the house Y/N had disappeared. For going above and beyond to find her and— “

“Hotch, you don’t have to thank me for that,” Morgan cuts him off. “I will do everything in my power to make sure this team is okay, you know that,” and with a small grin, he adds “I’m just happy that one of my hobbies was useful for the case.”

Hotch can’t help but smile a little in return, and with that, they go back to washing their hands in a more comfortable silence.

---

Walking back into the waiting area, Hotch is confronted with the sight of Reid and Rossi surrounded by a pile of snacks from one of the vending machines. He pauses for a second, shakes his head, and then continues back to the chair he was sitting in earlier. Once he’s seated, Reid tosses him a bag of something—chips? —which he dutifully opens under the watchful eye of Rossi. Morgan snags his own snack and then leans against the nearest wall, content to stand. A short while later, Emily and JJ return, Emily’s arm secure around JJ’s shoulders, before they too are digging in to the veritable mountain of food that Reid and Rossi managed to accumulate. Sitting in silence—save the crunching of whatever food they were eating—the team takes a second to contemplate and reassess the day.

The sound of Velcro breaks Hotch out of his trance, and he looks over to see Morgan undoing his bulletproof vest. The vests which the rest of them are still wearing. There’s a scramble after that, to rid themselves of their exterior layer, which are then haphazardly stacked on an open seat. Taking a deep breath for what feels like the first time in days, Hotch sinks back in his chair and closes his eyes, head tipped back against the cool wall behind him.

“Anyone want water?” Reid is the first to break the tenuous silence. There’s a chorus of hums and head shakes before he stands and wanders off, presumably in the direction of the vending machines where he first got the food.

“She’ll be fine, you know,” Rossi says looking at Aaron, whose eyes are now open, staring at the ceiling. “She’s tough, tougher than I think we gave her credit for.”

Hotch sighs in response, but Emily is the next to speak up.

“Robertson said she didn’t scream, which…” she trails off, looking at the floor before meeting Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t think I could have done that, not like that. I can’t imagine what that was like for her...”

“I wish we had gotten there sooner,” Hotch finally says. “I wish—”

“No.” Morgan says, a hard edge to his voice. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hotch. Or any of us. We did what we could and we found her alive.”

“I know, but—” Hotch is cut off by JJ this time.

“But nothing, Aaron. She’s going to be okay.” And with that, JJ moves from her chair to the one next to him and gently puts a hand on his shoulder. “She was awake and talking before they took her away, you know that,” she adds softly.

“Hey guys, so I talked to the nurse and—” Reid returns and with those words, Hotch sits straight in his seat, JJ’s hand falling away as his attention and that of his teammates focus on what Reid has to say next. “—and apparently, Y/N only needed minor surgery to repair some internal damage from three of the stab wounds and the other slashes were relatively shallow, so they just needed to be stitched up. She also has contusions on her head from where I’m guessing Robertson hit her to initially subdue her, and she does have a concussion and broken nose, but according to the nurse Y/N only has to stay here for a maximum of three days to make sure that there are no serious effects from the concussion and to keep an eye on her sutures before she’ll be cleared to leave.” Reid’s final statement hangs in the air, sinking in, and once it does, Aaron hangs his head as tears fall down his cheeks. You’re okay. You’re alive you’re alive you’re alive.

Derek immediately calls Garcia to give her the good news and her scream of excitement can be heard by the rest of the team even though Morgan did not have her on speakerphone. Rossi chuckles to himself before looking over at Aaron and his shaking shoulders. Putting a hand on his back, Rossi doesn’t say anything, but instead, provides silent support to the man who almost lost what little he had left.

“Agent Y/L/N?” comes a voice from the desk, and Aaron wipes his eyes before taking a breath and standing and turning with the rest of the team.

“Yes?” It’s Prentiss who replies.

“We’ve moved her to a room; you can see her now,” and with that, the nurse beckons for them to follow her through the set of double-doors that lead further into the hospital. Coming to a stop, the nurse turns and fixes Hotch with a look. “I’ll warn you now, she looks worse off than she actually is, so don’t be put off by her appearance. She shouldn’t move too much because there’s a risk she’ll rip her stitches, but other than that, she’ll be okay,” and with a nod, she opens the door and ushers them inside.

Aaron’s eyes rush to take in your appearance—butterfly bandages across your nose, a few on your cheekbones and forehead, bandages up both arms, and he’s sure there’s more hidden from view. For a moment, he’s taken back to the last time he saw you laying this still. Crumpled on the floor, bloody and unmoving, Robertson with a knife crouched over you, going to kill you—

Prentiss pushes past him, breaking his train of thought, as she moves to your side and gives a low whistle before gingerly taking your hand. Aaron walks to your other side, bending down to place a kiss on the top of your head, and the rest of the team surround your bed, everyone gazing down at your sleeping form.

---

The first thing you notice is the pain in your head, followed by pain that slowly pulses through your whole body, and for a moment, you remember. Robertson, the knife, slicing, slashing, taunting, yelling, don’t scream can’t scream—

But then you feel it. The familiar pressure of Aaron kissing your head and it clears your head a bit. Not with Robertson, not with Robertson, I’m not with that fucker.

“Fuck,” you groan, mind still hazy, pain more intense, as you return to consciousness. “Wh’re am I?” you slur out next, as you blink away the tiredness in your eyes and try not to squint at the fluorescents or the shadows that are sharpening into your team.

Looking to your right, you lock eyes with Aaron, who pushes hair off of your face before smiling sweetly at you and you try to smile back.

“Hi, Love,” you say, voice low and rough. He leans down and kisses your forehead this time, before gently holding your hand.

Realizing you aren’t alone, you look around at the rest of the team, squeezing Emily’s hand in yours.

“You killed ‘im?” you ask, searching her face. She nods. “Good,” you sigh. “He was such an asshole.”

With that, Derek laughs, followed by Rossi. Emily’s shoulders drop as she lets out a chuckle, Spencer smiles, and JJ rolls her eyes with a fond grin. Almost the whole team.

As if summoned by the power of thought, Derek’s phone rings and he answers the call, Garcia’s voice coming through loud and clear on speakerphone.

“Y/N! My poor, poor, goddess divine how are you?” she questions. You clear your throat and attempt to speak, but before you can say anything Morgan is passing the phone to Aaron, who holds it closer to your face. You shoot him a grateful smile before responding.

“I’m fine, Pen. Just some cuts and scrapes,” you joke.

“That’s a lie, Y/L/N and we all know it. Don’t make me ask you again!” she chastises and you roll your eyes, holding back a wince as pain twinges through your side.

“I’ll be okay, Penelope,” you say softly. Another jolt of pain, this time in your arm, almost makes you whimper, but you bite your lip instead. An action which does not go unnoticed in a room full of profilers.

“It’s nice to see you awake, Y/N,” JJ says lightly before shooting a glance at Aaron and then looking at the rest of the team. “But we should get back to the hotel.”

“Bye my lovelies! I’m happy you’re okay, Y/N. Get home safe, please! Garcia out,” and Derek puts his phone away before smiling at you. Reid give you a small wave and Rossi claps a hand on Aaron’s shoulder before they all turn to exit.

With one last squeeze to your hand, Emily lets go and follows the rest of the team, save Aaron, out the door with the promise that they’ll return later.

When everyone is out and the door shuts behind them, you finally let out a pained breath and scrunch your eyes shut with a groan. You feel Aaron smooth a hand over your hair and you try to control your breathing, but it’s hard when your entire body hurts. Slowly, tears make their way down your face and Aaron’s quick to softly brush them away. Turning to look at him, you allow yourself to breakdown in the safety of his presence.

Your breath hitches as the tears fall faster, your head hurts, your chest hurts, everything hurts and you try not to break into a sob, but the tears won’t stop and eventually sobs wrench from your body and you let them. Aaron has tears of his own falling down his face and he holds your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles, fingertips, palm, whatever he can as he watches you break. He wants to hold you, wrap you in his arms and shield you from the pain but he can’t because your injuries prevent him from doing so and it pains him to see you this way. So he does what he can.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. I didn’t get to say it before you passed out and—” he pauses to take a breath. “I love you so much. So so much.”

“I was so scared—” you gasp through a sob. “Terrified, Aaron. I couldn’t—” you can’t speak through the force of your tears. Aaron shushes you and kisses your cheek, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I know, Sweetheart. I know, but you were so brave, so brave and I am so proud of you for being so strong and—” he breaks off in his own soft sob. “—and for staying alive. You’re alive.”

Lifting a hand to scrub at your face, you take a few deep breaths, but more tears escape.

“I can’t—” your breath hitches at what exactly Robertson had done to you. “He wanted me to scream so I didn’t, I couldn’t. I knew what he did to the others, and I just thought that—” you take another breath. “I just thought that if I could deny him that, not give in, it would buy you guys time to find me,” you pull Aaron’s hand to your lips, resting them on the back of his hand and closing your eyes to ground yourself.

“And you did,” he replies softly, gently. “When we found you—” he takes his own steadying breath. “When we found you, Robertson was angry, he said…he said he needed to make you scream, and hearing that…I just,” he moves his hand to cup your face, softly moving his thumb over the bandage on your cheekbone. “You astound me, Sweetheart. Everyday,” he finishes in a whisper.

“I love you,” you say just as softly.

“I love you more,” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile back.

You lean forward, then. And he meets halfway, hand disentangling from yours so he can cradle both sides of your face as he sinks into the kiss. One of your own hands finds its place on his cheek and you sigh into his lips. This. This is what kept me alive, you think when he gently tilts your head. I love you I love you I love you. Thank you. With tears slowly drying on both your faces, you and Aaron revel in the comfort of each other. In the words you don’t have to speak, and the touch of the one you love. Through the worry, pain, and fear of the day, this is how it always ends. You and Aaron. Together. Safe. Loved.  

[nationalharryleague]

Dog Days Are Over

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU

Word count: 4.8K

A/N: Hi all! This is something I’ve been working on for a little while now and I’m really proud of it! As usual, a massive thank you to Miss Lu (@meetmymouth​) for being the best and beta reading. You can read more of my work in my masterlist and please please please send feedback to my ask! Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!! 

***

Jagger was a good boy. He was a massive Great Dane with a shiny black coat and goofy wide eyes that softened his overall intimidating appearance. Great Danes had been bread as guarding and hunting dogs, but the gentle giant was nothing like his ancestors. He trapesed around the park every morning with his clumsy oversized paws and a tail that never seemed to stop wagging. A sunshiny yellow collar sat around his neck with a leash connecting him to his owner, a curly headed man with kind eyes.

She had built a rapport with Jagger over time, always willing to spare a few of the treats she kept in her pocket for her own dogs, Annie and Hallie. The pair of speckled Dalmations always looked up to give her a disappointed look that seemed to ask “Why are you giving our cookies away, Mom?” when she offered the chicken flavored morsels to the charming brute. She would lean down (not very far due to his massive size),  give him two cookies, a scratch behind the ear, and a kiss to his forehead every morning, murmuring a “Good morning buddy.”

While she greeted Jagger, the man would always give her spotted ladies the attention they loved and a couple treats of his own, earning a few thankful and loving licks from the dogs. After the affectionate moment with the dog of a perfect stranger (she didn't even know his name), the pair would always give each other a smile and move on with their days.

This was their routine for months, meeting briefly every morning through falling leaves of a New York autumn that eventually gave out to the first snowy mornings and the charm of winter in Central Park. They never spoke more than a friendly morning greeting, occasionally commenting on the weather, but always taking a few moments to say hello to the endearing animals that accompanied them.

Her favorite coffee shop was especially busy one morning when they accidentally brought her two hot coffees with cream and sugar, instead of just one. When she had tried to return it, her favorite barista, a girl with golden skin and eyes to match, told her to take it anyway because it would just be thrown out. After the barista herself declined to keep the drink with a light chuckle, Y/N was sent on her way, each hand holding a coffee and both her wrists each looped through a leash.

Y/N, Annie, and Hallie made their way into Central Park, a surprisingly difficult task on his specific morning.  She struggled to maintain control over the hot liquid and the two strong dogs with strong opinions of where they wanted to walk. Inevitably and like clock work, they ran into Jagger and the man with the kind eyes, Y/N slowing to a stop to greet her giant furry friend. It wasn’t long before her K-9 balancing act gave her an idea.

“Do you drink coffee?” she quickly questioned, the words leaving her mouth without permission and directly addressing the man with the kind eyes about something other than the weather or their dogs for the first time since they had known each other. Jagger bumped his oafish head gently into her hip, seeming to ask for her attention back, just as surprised as she was with her uncharacteristic interaction with his dad.

“Uh, yeah,” the man answered, eyes locking with hers and seeming to be just as shocked that she spoke to him as she was. His deep and velvety voice was a sharp contrast to the sweet and fairly high pitched tone he usually used with Annie and Hallie.

“Well, the cafe gave me two instead of just one by accident. Do you want it?” She offered the cup to him with a hopeful shrug and a smile spread across her face when he took it.

They continued on with their routine of saying hello to each other’s animals without another word, the man with the kind eyes taking a sip of the coffee to test it out. She was pressing the usual kiss to Jagger’s massive head when she watched a ring clad hand offering itself towards her in the peripheral of her vision. “My name is Harry, by the way,” he said with a friendly close lipped smile playing across his lips. “We never really did introduce ourselves, did we?”

“I don’t think we ever did,” she said with a chuckle, reaching her hand out and connecting it with his. His hands were soft, but felt strong like he worked with his hands and his palms felt hot despite the freezing temperatures from where he had been clutching the coffee. “Y/N.”

“It's nice to formally meet you, Y/N. I usually just think of you as Annie and Hallie’s Mom.” His lips saying her name made it sound like it was sung by a million angels and she just couldn’t get over the idea of him thinking about her outside of the park. Of course she thought of him, a British beautiful man with kind eyes who loves her dogs was like finding a unicorn, but it had never crossed her mind that the thoughts could be mutual.

Before she had a chance to respond, Jagger began to walk forward, ready to take on the rest of his walk. “I guess it’s time for you to go,” she joked looking down as the giant animal who began to pull Harry forward.

“I guess so,” he agreed, jerking forward as he tried to slow Jagger down. “Thank you again for the coffee.”

“No problem!”

“Next time,” he said over his shoulder, a teasing smirk on his face, after Jagger had led him a considerable distance from her. “I take my coffee black!”

***

She thought about him all day after the park. She couldn’t believe that the tiny conversation had with him was all it took for him to occupy her every thought. She wondered if he enjoyed the rest of the coffee, if she would ever run into him at the cafe that had its logo drawn across the side of the drink she had gifted him, or if his girlfriend was suspicious when he came home holding a coffee order that definitely wasn’t his. What if he thought what she had done was weird? Would he change Jagger’s walking schedule? Or maybe change his route completely to avoid her?

Y/N ignored every one of those thoughts the next morning when she attended her usual coffee shop; and especially when she ordered one hot coffee with cream and sugar, and one without. She even asked her favorite barista with the golden eyes to write a little ‘H’ on the black coffee so she wouldn’t get them mixed up.

“To make up for all the treats you’ve given to Annie and Hallie over these last few months,” she lied when she handed the coffee over to him, relishing slightly in how his fingertips brushed hers when he took the drink from her hands. She knew that she didn’t get him the coffee for the treats; she got it because she had a crush.

“Oh, thank you so much!  You didn’t have to do this,” he insisted as he took a sip. “You even had a little ‘H’ put on it for me?” His eyes lit up at the possibility and from that second forward Y/N pledged to herself that she would do anything she could to see his eyes sparkle like that again.

“I just wanted to make sure they didn’t get mixed up.”

“H is what all of my friends call me.” She watched his plump pink lips move as he spoke, his warm breath creating a small steamy cloud in the frosty air.

“That’s really sweet,” she said smiling like a fool, endeared by the nickname.

“You can call me H, ya know?” he spoke and her heart just about stopped. “I think if our dogs are friends,” he said, gesturing to their dogs as their dogs played amongst themselves, “we can be friends too.”

She knew she would be unable to contain herself as soon as she got out of his line of sight in a few moments. She might bust out into a happy dance, or maybe even let out a small squeal;  but for the moment she just nodded her head. “I think I would really like that, H.”

“So,” he began with the smirk she had already begun to fall in love with, “friends don’t let friends buy them coffee two days in a row without returning the favor. Tomorrow is on me.”

“Sounds good, H,” she said as the pair of dalmations began to pull her forward. “I take my coffee with cream and sugar!” she shouted over her shoulder, shooting him a wink as she went on with her walk.

“I know.”

She was unable to contain herself and did, in fact, do a little wiggle when she was out of his sight.

***

Of all places she thought she could end up this Saturday morning, she didn’t think it would be in Harry’s apartment.

She had casually mentioned that morning when they met up in the park, more to make conversation than anything else, that the heat in her apartment was out but she had never expected him to invite her and the girls back to his place to warm up.

They had fallen into a delightful rhythm of bringing each other coffee over the past few weeks, taking turns and spending a few fleeting moments speaking to each other before one of their pets decided it was time to move on with their walk. She had learned that he was a physical therapist and that he had rescued Jagger from a puppy mill when he was a baby, but to be completely honest, she didn’t know much about him beyond that. They could only learn so much about each other  in 5 minute bursts before the dogs got bored and pulled them apart once again.

What she did know about him for sure was that his eyes didn’t lie when they said he was kind. He never missed a day getting her coffee and he always profusely thanked her when she brought him his. He always asked about how her day was going, and seemed to be genuinely interested in when she spoke about her work, hobbies, or whatever else ended up being the topic of their short conversations.

While she wouldn’t go as far as saying he cared about her, she knew that she cared about him.

“It’s not much,” Harry said, opening the door for Y/N and her dogs to pass into his home, “but it’s mine.”

As most New York City apartments were, it was a tiny shoe box of a living space; but it felt cozy, and most of all, warm. It was a small studio, with all the essentials packed in tight. His sofa sat up against the right wall of exposed brick, mirrored by a small kitchen on the left. She had to admit it was well styled; dark woods and stainless steel decorated the apartment and various posters and framed pictures on the walls made it his own.

The most breathtaking feature was a massive bay window that sat above his bed on the far back wall. The window directly overlooked Central Park and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sentimentality because that’s where they had met. His bed was perfectly made with dark charcoal grey sheets all she could imagine was being wrapped up in them with Harry.

Walking through the door, she was intoxicated by the most delicious smell that she could only assume was Harry’s cologne, but she was brought back to reality when he asked for her coat. Their hands met as she handed it over to him and a flash of concern immediately flashed through his face, bushy eyebrows furrowing. “You’re absolutely freezing, love.”

Once again, her heart began to burst with joy. Just that little word, the little pet name and term of endearment. It made her feel like a kid on Christmas, like she was ready to burst.

“Oh, I’m okay,” she managed to get out, still overwhelmed by his words.

“We’re gonna get you and the ladies all warmed up, okay?” She watched from her spot by the front door as he began to run around the apartment with one goal: to warm his friend up. He moved gracefully from the thermostat to a chest of drawers, making a small triumphant noise when he pulled out two dog sweaters that were Jagger’s. “They’re a little big, but I think they will work,” he said with a helpful smile.

She watched as he knelt down in front of Annie and Hallie, asking for their paws. Both of them quickly responded, clearly trusting the curly man in front of them as much as she did. He delicately slipped the knit over both of the dogs, and with anything he did, Y/N’s heart swooned.

To her, those dogs were her everything. She had moved to the city completely alone and had rescued the pair of sisters from a kill shelter only a week after arriving. She named them after the twins from The Parent Trap, her favorite movie growing up. She felt it was symbolic; like she and the dogs had been brought together by some twist of fate but had known each other in a past life. Those dogs were her everything and watching them interact with Harry ignited a fuzzy warmth within her; a sharp contrast to her still frozen nose.

“You next,” he teased, beckoning her over from her spot at the front door. She took careful steps over to him, trying her best to stay respectful of his space, already feeling intrusive for being there. She met him in the middle of the room, where he had grabbed a blanket off the couch, placing it over her shoulders and enveloping her in soft warm fabric and the smell of him. Shocks were sent up her arms as he rubbed them in an attempt to generate more heat. It was the first time he had ever really touched her other than light brushing of their fingertips, and she had never felt like anything was more right in the world than the way she felt in his arms.

She watched his face closely as he held the blanket tight around her frame. He had a light stubble peppering his strong jaw and his eyes were the most vibrant yet soft shade of green she had ever seen. His brows were still slightly knitted together in care for her, trying his best to accomplish his goal of warming the woman who had become his friend. Her eyes narrowed in on his plush pink lips and it took everything in her not to learn forward and press her lips to his; but she wouldn’t. They were casual friends; nothing more, nothing less, and her school girl crush didn’t change any of that.

His hands on her arms slowed and their eyes finally met, the deep green feeling like it had penetrated her soul. “I have soup in the fridge,” he said softly, eyes narrowing in on her still cold nose, “let me heat it up for you.” And as soon as the moment had happened, it was gone, him walking away from her in a flurry and starting his next task of making her soup.

“H, I promise I’m okay,” she said with a light chuckle. “I will warm up, eventually. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

“You have been in a frozen apartment for four days. You’re going to get sick,” he said, head still stuck in the fridge out of her line of sight.

“What do you care if I get sick?” she teased. “Won’t get your coffee?”

“No,” he said in an exasperated tone, popping back out from behind the fridge door to connect his eyes with hers, “because then I won’t get to see you.”

Despite the chill still present in her bones, she felt her cheeks heat with his words. “Oh, okay,” was all she could muster before he returned back to his search for the soup.

He did eventually find the soup and nearly force fed her the hot liquid, insisting that “you’re not getting pneumonia on my watch.” And while she kept up the act that she was totally fine and didn’t need him to fuss over her, it felt so good to be cared for like this. She had been on her own for so long now, lacking the care and affection that came with an overbearing mother-hen-esque friend, and she was honestly loving it.

It was later that day, while they were sat watching a movie on his couch, Y/N still wrapped up tight like a burrito in the flannel blanket that smelled like him, when he informed her that she wasn’t allowed to go back to her apartment until the heat was fixed. “H,” she had playfully groaned, “I am a big girl and will survive a little chill.”

“There’s a cold snap coming,” he justified his demands. “Saw it on the news this morning.”

“H, this is all too much. All of this has been so kind and the dogs and I appreciate it from the bottom of our hearts, but I can’t let you put your life on pause because I might get a little cold.”

“Please stay,” he began gently, almost pleading with her in a deeper and softer voice than he had ever used with her before, “for Annie and Hallie,” he finished. Her heart sank, reminding herself that the pair were just friends. He was just doing a favor for her out of the goodness of his heart; nothing more, nothing less.

“Maybe,” she murmured. “I’ll have to see if it gets fixed tonight.”

It didn’t get fixed. Apparently, New York City landlords, especially the one that owned her very tiny, and very shitty, apartment didn’t care much about their tenants turning to icicles. Around 10 PM, she finally gave up hope of anything getting fixed today, much to Harry’s delight.

She had accepted the sweats Harry had offered for her to sleep in, enveloped by soft worn fabric that spelled like him. A dark blue crew neck with ‘Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School’ written across the front swallowed her frame and Harry laughed at her when she had to roll up the legs of the sweatpants so she wouldn’t trip on them. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant,” she giggled, poking him in the chest and sticking her tongue out at him like a child.

“You’re lucky you look cute in those or I would be taking them back after a comment like that.” Her cheeks reddened for what felt like the millionth time since she had entered his space this morning. They had fallen into a charming banter, a rhythm of teasing jokes and kind words intertwined with each other that made her heart sing. While she still felt like she was intruding on his space, there was a growing part of her that was glad her heat wasn’t back yet. She didn’t want to leave his warmth and light just yet.

When a yawn left her lips later that night, Harry decided it was time for bed. “We’re in the middle of the episode,” she had argued through another yawn, “we haven’t even seen who wins the technical challenge yet.” They had watched almost an entire season of Bake Off over the course of the day, both of them curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets and dogs.

“We have to be up for our walk in the morning,” he smiled as he lifted Jagger’s massive head off his lap to get up. “I’ll even buy the coffee.”

“Okay, I guess so,” she agreed gently. “Can I just borrow a pillow?” she asked as she adjusted herself and the dogs on the couch under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a confused face.

“Getting ready to go to sleep?” she responded with an equally questioning tone.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. Come on, get into my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re my guest.”

“Harry,” she spoke gently but was met with a lift of his eyebrow like using his full name was an insult. “H,” she began again, “I’m not going to come into your home, inconvenience your entire day, steal your clothes, eat your food, and then make you sleep on the couch.”

“Please, just let me sleep on the couch, Y/N,” he nearly begged.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” she repeated with a stern tone.

“Then neither are you.” Her breath caught in her chest and her eyes flashed to the dark charcoal sheets she had imagined being wrapped up in with him when she first entered the apartment. “It’s a big comfy bed and I want you to actually sleep well. I’m perfectly okay with it if you are.”

While her heart was beating out of her chest at the opportunity of being that close to him, all she said was “sounds good,” unable to come up with anything more than that in the moment.

She reverted back to her careful steps and bated breath as she left the couch and made her way over to the bed, suddenly so aware of the respectful boundaries she had created for herself when she first arrived. She lifted back his heavy comforter and slid herself inside, pulling the blanket to her chin as she watched, mesmerized, as the man walked around the apartment getting ready for bed.

He walked around the apartment on the pads of his bare feet almost silently, turning off lights and pouring them both a glass of water before refilling the dog bowls on the ground. He led Jagger to his giant dog bed and invited Annie and Hallie up onto his couch to sleep, gently coaxing them onto the cushions and laying the blanket Y/N had been wrapped in for most of the day over the speckled sisters.

There was only the light coming off the street lights streaming through the window above her head to illuminate the silent apartment and she watched as Harry made his way to the tall chest of drawers on his side of the bed. He lifted his sweater over his head to expose his muscular back and elaborately tattooed arms, and she prayed he didn’t hear the small gasp that left her lips. As quickly as his back and torso were revealed to her, they were hidden once again when he slipped a large tshirt back over his body. She had only ever known him in the colder months, always wrapped up in a sweater or a coat; she had never expected the beautiful illustrations that decorated his body or his broad muscular shoulders that stayed hidden under layers of clothing.

“Stop staring, ya perv,” his deep velvety voice joked with a laugh and she felt her cheeks burn worse than they had all day. “I’m only kidding, love,” he spoke softly when he turned around and connected their eyes.

“I was just looking at your tattoos,” she stammered while she watched him slip into the bed next to her, trying to wipe the adoring look from her face. “I like them a lot.”

“Thank you.” He settled into the bed, far enough to be respectful but still close enough for her to feel the warmth off his skin. He brought his arm out from underneath the covers, allowing her to get a closer look at the ink that illustrated his skin and she rolled herself on her side to face him. She carefully traced the veins of the anatomical heart on this bicep with her finger tips. “Your fingers finally warmed up,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes flashed up to meet his eyes in the darkness, his irises still seeming to glow in the limited light. She felt his warm minty breath fall over her face and the sweet smell of him that had been enveloping her since she entered his space intensified with her proximity to him. He smelled of sandalwood and vanilla, mixed with the smell of clean linen coming from his bed sheets.

“I guess they did,” she said under her breath, like if she spoke too loudly the moment would be scared away. “We should get some sleep,” she said regretfully, remembering the respectful rules she had set for herself. She withdrew her hand away from his arm and rolled back to her previous position to stare at the ceiling until she fell asleep. If she hadn’t been so tired and if it wasn’t so dark, she would have thought she saw disappointment on his face before she dozed off.

When she began to wake the next morning, she was warm. Not a sweaty or sticky warm, a cozy warm that makes you want to curl up and spend an entire day in bed, seeking respite from the cold air that lives outside the cocoon of blankets you’ve created. She snuggled further into the warmth, and further into the arms that held her close. Her consciousness was blurred with sleep as she buried her face deeper into the warmth between someone’s shoulder and neck. She wouldn’t have woken up if she didn’t feel the body holding her release a light chuckle at her sleepy huffs.

Coming back to life, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to the strong jaw peppered with stubble that she had studied so intensely for months now. A gasp left her throat and she tried to pull herself away, wracked with guilt for passing a boundary she had set. But her movements were stopped when the pair of arms around her waist only pulled her closer, a deep gravelly voice next to her mumbling “don’t go.”

For the first time, she let herself occupy the thought that her fascination with Harry may be mutual. He had gone above and beyond for her and had always been kind and accommodating, always ready to take care of her any need or want. He had let her stay in his house for god sake, let her stay in his bed, and was now holding on to her like if he let go the little world they had created together would fall apart.

“Okay,” she whispered softly into his neck, melting back into his warmth once again. Her drowsiness must have clouded her judgement when she pressed a gentle and soft kiss over his pulse point.

It was Harry’s turn to pull back, a drowsy chuckle leaving his lips as he made eye contact with her still half closed eyes. “Did you just kiss me?” he asked incredulously.

“No, definitely not.” She buried her face in her hands, blushing uncontrollably and feeling her whole face heat up.

“You liar,” he grinned. “Come here.” He pressed his hands to either side of her face and pulled her mouth to meet his. It was a soft kiss, both of them unable to control their smiling lips. Her heart raced and so did his. Their lips moved together in a rhythm that was occasionally interrupted by excited giggles, and Harry pulled her closer to him than she ever had been before.

They stayed in that bliss for as long as they could; cheeks hurting from smiles, gentle laughter released often, and enjoying the warm cocoon they had created together. It was only a matter of time before they were interrupted, both of them letting out loud laughter when all three of their animals joined them on the bed. It was only then Y/N peaked out the window above them to discover Central Park covered in a bright white blanket of snow, flurries continuing to fall outside.

“I have been obsessed with you from the first day I saw you walking the girls,” he confessed as the dogs curled up around them both. “I thought you were so special and beautiful. I about lost it the day you offered me that coffee. I couldn’t believe you were actually talking to me and not my dog for once.”

“Let’s be honest, I fell in love with Jagger first,” she teased. “His hot dad was just a bonus,” she giggled against his lips as he pressed their faces together once again, bodies held apart by the dogs that had wiggled between them.

This moment felt like a fairytale. She wasn’t sure how long it would last or what would come from it but she knew that this was what pure joy felt like, and she would hold onto it for as long as she could.

They only had the dogs to thank.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean to the world!!! 

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of jake and amy hand holding before dating (i’m convinced they did a few times before they ever dated) and also in the beginning of their relationship + getting teased by the squad 🥰

(this has definitely turned out far more emotional than you’d probably thought, anon, but I don’t make the rules when it comes to fic inspiration)

Amy Santiago is sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of her friends has said, and she feels a warm hand slip into hers under the table. Jake Peralta is laughing next to her, too, but then he’s also smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them.

-*-

He’s lying in a hospital bed, and Amy thinks she’s never seen something more unsettling than a quiet Jake Peralta. The only sound in the room is the beeping of some monitors he’s hooked up to, and the only movement is his chest rising slow and steady. Something it didn’t do about two hours ago, when she was kneeling over him in some alley and screaming while the medics finally arrived and brought him back. It was a fairly ‘minor’ injury in the end, one bullet wound that the doctor’s had to close up, but it had hit some sort of vein that was important and that lost a lot of blood and that stopped his heart for the few moments she remembers stretching like hours in her mind. She doesn’t remember much else, especially not the medic’s or doctor’s explanations. They’d taken her along in the ambulance, because she was his partner, and she was allowed to sit in the hospital room he was recovering in now, because she was his emergency contact, too. She could’ve been nothing after today. Because the bullet from that gun wasn’t aimed at Jake before he pushed her to the side.

Amy looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, pinching each other to remind her she’s awake, she’s here, and so is Jake. Not awake, but here. Still here. They’re squeaky clean, her hands, because she’s spent a good fifteen minutes in the hospital public toilets scrubbing them free of his blood after he was rushed into surgery and she was left behind, alone in the waiting room, her sensible grey pantsuit coloured red all over her arms. She had a list of things to do in her head - contact Captain McGintley to follow the chain of command, and Terry so something would actually get done. Figure out how and who can transport Peralta home and take care of him, if he gets to go home. (He will. He has to. She will take him.) Call Rosa to find out if they booked the perp properly, and that they add assault with a deadly weapon to his rep sheet (not murder, although that’s what he did, that’s what happened). But she couldn’t do any of that, because she was still shaking, her heart was still racing, and all she could see was his blood on her hands, warm and sticky and dark and drying into a rotten brown shade already. So she washed them clean, and then scrubbed some more, and some more, until she felt as red and raw as the wound in his chest had looked in the ambulance when they got his shirt off. (The jacket of her suit is rotting away in the toilet trashcan now, and she’s shivering ever so slightly in only her short-sleeved blouse, but it is clean and there is not a hint of Jake’s injury anywhere anymore, except in his gaunt cheekbones and the pale colour of his face, and the silence of the room.) His hand twitches while she’s staring at her own, and if it’s instinct or reflex of whatever that makes her reach out and grab it immediately, she doesn’t care. His hand is warm under hers, and it twitches again and then wraps its fingers around her and holds her, steady and calm. He blinks awake, a little disoriented, but then he focuses on her and - smiles.

“You’re okay.” He says, and that’s what breaks her in the end.

She doesn’t outright sob or anything, but she does let her head drop so her hair is hiding her face, hiding the tears he doesn’t need to see first thing after waking up from literal death. She feels his hand pull on her to make her look at him, though, and she can’t deny him, even if her tear-streaked face is probably not a good view.

“Hey, no- don’t-” He rasps, his voice still coming back, “I’m okay too.”

She laughs through her tears, a short little snort, but it helps calm her down - and him too, it seems, because he smiles again.

“You’re far more than just okay, Peralta.” She smiles back, and feels his hand tighten around hers, three little, but distinct squeezes.

-*-

She shouldn’t feel this nervous. She’s a cop, a detective. A good one. She’s done this before, and it’s never been nice, but it’s always something she’s gotten through.

But she fears tomorrow’s court date more than anything else in her life right now, which is why she’s trying to drown the thought of it at Shaw’s. The hangover will probably not be helpful with her witness statement that could possibly make or break this ruling, but her panic demands more alcohol. However, the next beer she orders at the bar is intercepted by a larger, more calloused hand than hers.

“Alright, Santiago, that last one was your sixth, and I really don’t need to deal with Seven Drink Amy tonight.” Jake says as he settles down next to her, hands the beer over to Rosa, who leaves them alone at the bar before Amy can whine and complain.

“I need that drink, Jake. It’s my only friend right now.” 

“We both know that’s just Six Drink Sadmy speaking.” He pats her arm as she spreads out over the slightly sticky bartop and whines some more.

“You’re worried about tomorrow.” He continues, reading her thoughts like he sometimes does, which is such an annoying thing he can do. His hand is still on her arm. “You don’t have to be.”

“That girl’s entire life is at stake. And the gang boss is going to kill me and her if he gets off-”

“He’s not going to get off. Not if you tell them exactly what you told the lawyers taking your written statement.”

“Says you.”

“Says Sofia.” There’s a weight to those words that hits her stomach, and it’s only partially the fact that a damn defense attorney is on her side. The other part of why those words from the woman Jake started dating just recently hurt her, she doesn’t want to think about. “Look, I’m gonna drive you home, you’re gonna take a hot shower to detox, then you’re gonna get your perfect 8 hours of sleep, show up at court tomorrow in your best, darkest pant suit, and rock this like you rock everything else.” His hand has wandered down her arm to her hand, now, flips it over to hold it, and it’s pure coincidence that their fingers spread and interlock, surely. “Okay?” He asks one more time, and she sighs.

“Teddy can pick me up-”

“Teddy’s at that conference, remember.”

Oh, right. Something that had been lost to memory between drink three and four, the fact that her boyfriend had booked himself into a seminar the week the court date was announced. It’s a really good one, he’d said, if she wasn’t already busy he would’ve asked her to join, too. Already busy. Regular Amy doesn’t get punchy a lot, and maybe it’s her closeness to Seven Drink Amy right now that makes her want to knock him out for that, but she felt that way when she helped him pack his luggage two days ago too, and she was stonecold sober then.

“Okay.” She nods and tries to get off of the barstool, wobbles quite heavily. “Take me home, Peralta.”

He snorts a laugh and obviously swallows down some sort of joke as he pulls her into a standing position, their hands still locked together. She thinks she imagines it at first, but even after she’s sobered up the next day, she remembers those three short, tight, almost painful squeezes before he let go and steered her to his car.

She doesn’t have much time to think about it, or about how she basically held hands with her best friend while both of their partners were out of town, either. Or how he helped her into her apartment and waited until she was showered and had downed some water and aspirin before tucking her into bed. She can’t think about any of that, because she has to get ready for court.

And when she sits down in the witness’ chair, the gang boss on the bench before her staring her down with murder in his eyes, she notices a set of dress blues in the otherwise thin crowd of people who were allowed in to watch the trial. Three rows down, Jake gives her a silent thumbs up when their eyes meet, and she feels the phantom of his hand again, squeezing hers three times before she begins to speak.

-*-

They’re gonna die. She’s certain. They’re gonna die in here, in this cramped little closet, wedged between some industrial shelving and a broken down sink.

Jake had pulled her in and locked the door behind him, squished her against the wall and himself against the door, and killed the radio on her shoulder as well as his own. The last thing they’d heard crackling through it was “four officers down”. Someone had fallen behind her when she ran for safety, and for a second she thought it had been Jake. That he was standing here now, almost pressed against her in the tight space she would usually panic in, that she could feel his erratic breath on her ear, his racing heart under her hands, was pretty much the only comfort she had left.

She wonders how long it’ll last.

The mission had been an absolute bust. They had expected a gang. They had not expected a well-armed mafia. And now officers were wounded, or dead, and they couldn’t use their radio to find out anything, for fear of being discovered. She can hear gunshots and shouts from further away, and it’s only her paranoia that make them sound as if they're getting closer, but Jake is listening just as intently. Amy thinks of Rosa and Charles, who were on the other side of the building. She thinks of Terry, who’s probably trying to reach any of them by radio from his station in the surveillance van. She thinks of Holt, and can’t see where he might be right now, still next to Terry or commanding whatever backup might be coming in or-

She feels Jake’s hand wrap around hers, still pressed against his chest, and realises that she’s been hyperventilating. If she gets any louder, she’ll give away their position. His forehead against hers is cold, colder than he usually is, clammy with sweat, but the simple pressure of it helps her focus. She can hear him breathe deep, slow, exaggerated, and understands that he’s doing it for her. He probably thinks she’s having a panic attack because of her claustrophobia, or maybe all things at the moment combined. He’s not that far off. She breathes with him, feels the air from their exhales swirl between the few spaces were they don’t connect. There aren’t many. If she looks up, she could kiss him. She’s not quite that sure that she’s going to die in here anymore, but she would definitely hate herself if she did and never found out what that felt like, or if her last kiss on Earth was really from Teddy the night before they broke up. But when she moves her head, she meets his eyes instead, pupils blown wide in the darkness around them. He looks scared and terrified, and his heart under their combined hands is still racing, and the last thing he needs is for Amy to confuse him before they go out in a hail of bullets, action-movie-style, which he’d probably love if it wasn’t so real right now. She wants to say something, anything to calm him down, but she can’t speak, and not just because there are footsteps approaching outside their door.

She feels his hand tighten around hers, three times, faster than before. And then he pulls her into a close hug when the door behind his back opens to reveal blinding light, and she realises he’s shielding her, has been ever since he pushed her first into this storage space. He only lets go when they both hear Terry’s voice, and the Captain’s, the first telling them they are safe, the second immediately trying to update them on the situation with the SWAT team. He holds her hand a second longer than the rest of her, and the three squeezes that follow are far softer and slower than the ones before.

-*-

Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta are sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of their friends has said, and she feels his hand slip into hers under the table. For only a split second, she’s tempted to pull her hand away. It’s still so new and shaky and unsure, their whole thing, yet at the same time it isn’t. It’s been growing for so long, between them and around them, it feels like it’s always been there. But the rest of the squad is still pulling excited faces whenever they get a little closer, Charles still squeals at every mention of their ‘evenings together’, and Rosa has rolled her eyes so hard she almost strained a muscle the first time she heard Amy refer to Jake as ‘babe’ in front of her. It’s all a little bit embarrassing, and sometimes she wishes they’d stuck to just one of their rules, of not telling anyone until they figure it out. But then she wonders, what was there left to figure out? She was with Jake, and she wanted to be with Jake, and deep down, she could see none of that change at any point in time. Forever, possibly.

Charles is still talking, riding the wave of getting their laugh, but then Jake’s smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them. She remembers them from before, from tense moments and situations of fear, from where he’s been there for her at the worst parts. Holding on tight and feeling the three little bursts of pressure, only wondering a long time later if he did it on purpose, or if it was some sort of reflex.

She feels it again now, and she can finally hear it.

I. Squeeze. Love. Squeeze. You. Squeeze.